Posted on by M. Raiya

2013 Charity Sip Blog Hop


Our Bloghop Starts Here: Torquere Press

Welcome to my blog! I’m very excited to be part of Torquere’s Blog hop. This is my fourth time taking part in Torquere’s Charity Sip Blitz. It’s always an honor to be included and to feel like I’m doing something to support the gay community in some fashion or other.

My contribution this year is Final Awakening, a sequel to my story last year, Slow Awakening, the story about the king who visits a cave and has the most incredible night of his life. Then he finds out in the morning that the man who’d been his master for the evening is none other than the new ambassador from a neighboring land, and that two the of them will have to work together publicly.

In Final Awakening, the king visits the ambassador’s homeland, which is even less supportive to men of their persuasion than his own. Not only does their love come to the test, but so do their lives.

And what does this have to do with uniforms? As the ambassador finds out, a lot can change depending on which one he’s wearing.

Here’s the blurb:

Forbidden love and the risk of execution dance together, a dangerous waltz of passion and terror. When the nightmare comes true for the ambassador, the king must use every bit of his cunning and wit or they will both face the sword.

And here’s an excerpt:
My lover was gagged and bound to a chair facing the door.
The wrongness of it slammed into me. It was like seeing — I wasn’t even sure what could compare. It was like that day when I was a child when the sun had disappeared at noon and everything turned black and the stars came out, the sun eaten away. The terror that touched me then was like the terror that touched me now. The sun had returned and been the same ever since, but I had never looked at it with the same trust.
My lover met my eyes for the briefest of instants. His blue eyes were full of things I’d never thought to see. Fear, guilt, anger. Then his gaze fell to the floor and I knew in my heart that he was ashamed. Ashamed for me to see him like this. He wore the brown tunic of one in service to this land, instead of the black of a freeman. Anger flooded me — who would dare do this to him? — and anger on top of terror was never a good combination. It took all the skill I had to make my face a mask as I turned to another man rising from where he’d been sitting in the shadows. A tall man in a rich, sumptuous brown cloak, edged with russet. Dark haired, dark eyed, fit, commanding, and wearing a gold circlet on his head that was nearly identical to the one that bound my own temples.
King Oban.
Oh, this was a whole lot of not good.

I admit that I had a little trouble coming up with an idea for this call when it was announced last spring. I honestly don’t have much experience with uniforms and all that they symbolize, though my father served in WWII and my great-great grandfather fought in the Civil War. And my daughter’s fiance is an EMT. But being able to be out and serve seems like a really good idea, so I wanted to come up with something. As usual, when reality is lacking, I turn to fantasy, and my characters from last year were haunting me, and then I suddenly had an idea and soon a story. I hope you all enjoy Final Awakening!



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