Third book in the Daryk World Series
Erotic Fantasy Romance
February 16th, 2011
Published by and available from Ellora's Cave
Available on Barnes and Noble Nook!
Daryk World, Book Three
Her fever for him has always burned high... Daryk One Aknada Tyrus helped destroy Admiral Aramus' slave trading ship, but now she must resurrect her shattered life and discover if love can repair three years of deceit.
Aknada is a warrior, her unique ability to fight men on equal footing a talent few women can boost. Three years ago she lost faith in herself after surviving a horrible attack. Now she cannot abide a man's touch, even the tenderness of Marc Gampia, the man she's craved forever. She returns to Marc's compound to restore her inner peace and hopefully turn her fears away.
His craving for her has never died... Marc hides his own mangled heart. When he learns Aknada is alive, the fire in him burns hotter and more fiercely than it did before. He will do anything to have her as his wife.
Desire forces her to reach for him, to discover his body one touch at a time. One stroke and there is no going back.
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"The emotional aspects of the novella are wonderful..."
~ -
"Join Agnew as she enriches our lives with the tale of love never lost and how love can heal all things. A great fantasy romance for those who love the genre and those who love romance books in general."
~ The Pen Muse -
"Daryk Craving is a wickedly hot novella but it is also beautiful. Marc and Aknada have a sweet romance. Marc definitely had me swooning. His understanding and gentleness with Aknada is stunningly delightful. Aknada's story could have become very dark but Denise A. Agnew has gifted us with a gorgeous uplifting story with Daryk Craving. Desire reigns supreme in Daryk Craving; it will leave you smiling!"
~ Joyfully Reviewed
Aknada winced as lightning flashed over the compound. She glanced apprehensively at the clouds gathering over the large stone structure situated on a hill not far from where it gave way to the beautiful cream, black and white Ithaycan desert. People already crossed over the drawbridge into the castlelike structure, leaving the market below with quick steps, eager to escape the approaching storm.
As she looked at the imposing compound that had become her new home, she noted a figure staring at her from the drawbridge. No matter what she did, he always lurked around the corners and appeared when she least expected. She couldn't ignore Marc Gampia, though she'd been trying to all week. But how could she disregard the striking figure he made commanding everything around him?
His tall, broad-shouldered frame showed his strength. He wasn't a Daryk One, but he stood taller than her. A wild rush coiled low in her stomach as she dared peruse him. She felt feathery light, sweetly uncoiled at the sight of him-a sensation she'd never experienced in the presence of another man.
Anger raced through her. Then longing. Then incredible craving to know him in a deeper sense. It didn't matter that she'd known him since she was a child. She had to experience more, find the essence of what made Marc who he was. It seemed imperative and painfully urgent. She didn't know why, but it was always this way with him. It terrified her. She'd seen how her brother looked at his wife, as if she moved the planet and the heavens, and how Xandra gazed at Rayder with a worshipful love. Undoubtedly Rayder had found his mate. Aknada didn't know if she could experience what her brother had with Xandra.
Marc's gaze cut to Aknada, and when he saw her gazing intently at him, his mouth curved and he waved. Involuntarily she waved back then scowled that she'd given him that much attention. Damn his hide. But she couldn't tear her gaze away just yet. Since Aramus' ship had been destroyed and sunk in the bay, Marc had changed his appearance in subtle ways.
He'd cut his waist-length hair until it lay just below his shoulders. Instead of hanging straight it now waved in a glorious silvery blond tangle. Few men would have looked masculine with such hair, but harsh features, his dark brown brows, the slash of his mouth...well, no woman could fail to appreciate his attributes if she had a single living thought in her mind. Marc wasn't pretty-though Rayder had often teased Marc that he dressed like a dragon in heat. Colorful. Marc was a ruler, a slaver if she took his occupation most literally. He wore red tunics over buff or black trousers. Today he wore an unusually tame dark brown tunic with tan trousers stuffed into boots that came to his knees. He didn't wear armor, but a huge dagger was stuffed into a sheath at his waist. He wore knives far more often than swords, though he'd been talented enough with a sword when they'd raided Aramus' filthy slave ship. She wanted to reach out and feel the texture of that thick hair, wrap the strands around her fingers. Wanted to-what?