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Felinar Chronicles
Felinar Chronicles
Felinar Chronicles
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Felinar Chronicles

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Discover the captivating world of the Felinar in this series of short stories. The royal line of shape-shifting Felinars may rule the human Provincial Unity, but their reigns are plagued by intrigue and danger. Not only must they contend with enemies at their borders, but they must also wage an interior war with the power-hungry Regents who govern the provinces across their land. Join the Felinar in these four separate tales as they rise to power, pit their skills on the battlefields of love and politics, and struggle with their inner savagery.

In THE FIRST FELINAR, the saga begins with a child half human and half Felinani, a race able to shift from human into cat form. A product of two worlds, Micah must find a way to reconcile the two halves of himself and protect the ones he loves.

In MARK OF THE FELINAR, Cyric first meets his Felinar as a young soldier, an encounter that alters the course of his life. From that moment, he vows to become Felinar Raelin’s First Arrow, her most trusted protector. To do so, he must find a way to defeat her current treacherous First.

In FELINAR'S CHOICE, Raelin faces the Alt Ceremony, a yearly demonstration of a Felinar’s ability to control their savage animal side and a time for her people to bring their concerns before her. The Regents use this opportunity to force Raelin to choose a mate who will rise to power at her side.

In FELINAR'S BLOOD, Arland and Edana are the first Felinani to rule together, a responsibility the young twins are forced to shoulder after the untimely deaths of their parents. Facing a court full of potential murderers and a country full of angry, grieving people, the siblings must find a way to survive what has become a deadly game of politics.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateAug 29, 2014
ISBN9781311979261
Felinar Chronicles
Author

Michelle O'Leary

Scifi fantasy romance author Michelle O'Leary resides in Marquette, MI which graces the shore of pristine Lake Superior. Born and raised in Upper Michigan, Michelle is a child of nature, enjoying all things outdoors.Originally published through a small e-publisher, Michelle became an independent author publishing her work through Amazon Kindle, CreateSpace, and Smashwords before being accepted into The Wild Rose Press family. Her titles include The Huntress, The Third Sign, Sunscapes Trilogy, Light of Kaska, and more.Michelle is a mother first, a dedicated chocoholic, a contented Michigander, and a delirious word lover. She loves all feedback and is always happy to hear from readers!

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    Book preview

    Felinar Chronicles - Michelle O'Leary

    Felinar Chronicles

    ~Michelle O’Leary~

    Copyright 2014 Michelle O’Leary

    Smashwords Edition

    Print Edition through CreateSpace

    All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Cover design by author

    ~~~~~~~

    Table of Contents:

    Other Titles by Michelle O’Leary

    The First Felinar

    Mark of the Felinar

    Felinar’s Choice

    Felinar’s Blood

    About the Author

    Michelle O’Leary Online

    ~~~~~~~

    Other Titles by Michelle O’Leary

    Novels:

    The Huntress

    Angels and Ministers of Grace

    Last Chance: Sunscapes Trilogy Book 1

    Here There Be Dragons: Sunscapes Trilogy Book 2

    Light of Kaska

    No Such Thing

    The Third Sign

    DeeDeck Design

    Short Stories:

    Stepping Stones: The Huntress Series of Short Stories

    Felinar Chronicles

    Lover’s Gift Regained

    Kernel of Creation

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    The First Felinar

    She saw him through the trees and froze, berries falling from her nerveless fingers and the basket sliding off her lax arm. It landed with a muffled thump at her feet but she didn’t hear it over the frantic pounding of her heart.

    Twilight is their time, her grandmother had told her. Time and again she had been warned to be home before sunset, but this patch of berries was so difficult to reach and yielded the best fruit. She hadn’t wanted to stop until her basket was full. It was a risk but she was young enough to feel more excitement than fear when taking such risks.

    She was afraid now, though. He was watching her in human form and that made it worse, somehow. If he attacked her in his animal form, it would seem almost a natural death, violent and tragic but not obscene. Yet there he was, green-gold cat-slitted eyes piercing her while he stood as utterly naked as when he was born.

    He began to stalk her with leisurely, cat-like grace, his every movement unhurried and confident. Her legs nearly buckled when she realized why he was taking his time—she had nowhere to run and no one would hear her scream for help. With a sob, she covered her mouth with shaking hands and watched her doom stride toward her.

    At least Death was beautiful. She had never seen such a finely made man with such synergy of muscle and grace. She’d never seen this much of a man before either—she was still a maid, though the regent’s son had begun courtship in earnest. She was a farmer’s daughter, though—she knew what an aroused male animal looked like.

    With a choked moan, she whimpered, Please don’t hurt me, behind her hands when she realized the extent of her danger. He would disgrace her before he killed her. She had overheard such whisperings from the matrons but hadn’t understood, hadn’t believed it possible.

    Her knees gave way and she stumbled back only to find herself in his arms suddenly, though she hadn’t seen him cross the last distance. He was hot as if he burned with fever and he smelled like singed cedar, sharp with a hint of flame.

    He said something in their language, something low and soothing, his voice like a rough purr as his glowing eyes captured hers. He lifted a hand, running his fingers lightly down her cheek and throat, pausing over her frantic pulse while shivers of terror and something else passed over her skin. Are you really so afraid of me? he asked with a smile that did strange things to her insides. I mean you no harm, little one.

    His hand slipped around the back of her neck, holding her secure and tilting her face to his. I want only your sweetness. In return, I’ll show you freedom and pleasure. His mouth brushed over hers as he pressed her close, coupling her first kiss with the shocking feel of hard, aroused male against her every curve. Will you give me a taste? he whispered against her lips, caressing the sensitive skin beneath her ear with his thumb.

    Quivering, she tried to think, tried to understand, but he didn’t give her time for either. His lips moved on hers in ways she’d never dreamt of and his hands moved over her with stunning familiarity and skill. How did he know such things about her when she hadn’t known them herself? He held her captive with discovery, fear and confusion ebbing away under mounting pleasure.

    When he lowered her to the ground, she was aware of nothing but his heated touch and the eager response of her flesh. As night fell true, he kept his promise to show her freedom and pleasure. And then he gave her a gift.

    A child.

    *******

    Micah knew he was in trouble by the tightness around his mother’s mouth and the steel in her normally warm brown eyes. It was so unfair—he hadn’t done what she thought he had, hadn’t changed into the form that haunted his dreams and called so sweetly to him. She’d made him promise and he hadn’t. He’d just needed to get away for a while. He’d just needed to be alone in the quiet welcome of the forest, away from the sidelong stares and the taunts of the other children. The normal children.

    "Mama, I didn’t," he protested when she reached for his arm.

    Her hold wasn’t painful but the disbelief in her eyes hurt. Hush, she murmured, propelling him swiftly through the narrow servant’s corridors. You forgot, didn’t you? I told you to stay around the castle today. I told you to be on your best behavior because the regent was coming home. You forgot again, Micah.

    He had forgotten. I’m sorry, Mama, he mumbled, staring down at his fast moving feet.

    She sighed, the kind of sigh that said she hadn’t much patience today. We need to get you in your best. He’ll want to see you.

    He kept his chin down so she wouldn’t see his lip sticking out in resentful rebellion. He didn’t want to be looked at, to be prodded and talked about and giggled over as if he was some strange pet that his mother had found. He didn’t like how they all looked at him, and he didn’t like how the regent’s son looked at his mother. Like maybe she was his pet. His mother went away at night sometimes, and the other children said that was because she was the regent son’s lily-girl and loose. He didn’t know what either term meant but understood that it was bad by the sneering tone they used. He’d hit the baker’s son square in the nose for saying it then got in trouble.

    His mother had turned red and grimly silent when he told her why he’d hit the boy. After that, she let him go in the forest as long as he kept his promise not to change.

    It won’t take long, Micah, his mother said in a gentler tone. It never does.

    She helped him to dress, ignoring his muttered protests that he could do it himself. Then she rushed him to the kitchen where she deposited him on a stool next to the fire with the admonition to be still, stay out of the way, and don’t get anything on his clothes.

    He perched in forlorn abandonment, watching his mother hurry to her station in the middle of the bustling kitchen. The head cook gave her a sharp word on the way by—Micah knew it was sharp by the expression on the beefy woman’s face and the hunch of his mother’s shoulders—but kitchen work continued without pause after that.

    The other outcast in the castle, the pretty girl with the twisted lump of a foot, snuck him a piece of sweetbread while she stirred a pot over

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