The Queens of Merab: Nuriel's Wolf by Violet Summers

The Queens of Merab: Nuriel's Wolf


by Violet Summers

Cover art: Bryan Keller

ISBN: 978-1-60521-565-5

Genre(s): Paranormal

Theme(s): Werewolves

Series: The Queens of Merab

Length: Novella

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Blurb:
On the world of Merab, women rule, while men wield the magic. It's been an equitable system, until now. Nuriel had been so excited to join her foster sister, Temair, on her Tour of Emetra, the Elemental Continent. She never expected to get caught up in a violent rebellion as the men of Merab strike back against the women who have oppressed them. Captured and terrorized by one of the rebels, Nuriel retreated into herself, terrified of further abuse.


Now that Temair has found her four Consorts and ascended to the throne, Nuriel must begin her own journey, a journey that terrifies her. Ze'ev is just as wounded as Nuriel. Scarred by the loss of his sister and a year in chains, Ze'ev knows the Gladiator's Arena is the only route to freedom left for him. Victory means his life, but it also means marriage to the fragile Princess of Zirah.

Excerpt:
Queens of Merab 2: Nuriel's Wolf


Violet Summers

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2010 Violet Summers



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The fat fool with the greasy hair and foul breath was in his face again. Luthar, the manager of the Coliseum, had approached Ze'ev more than once, but until now Ze'ev had sent him unceremoniously on his way. He'd like to do so again, but resistance was no longer an option. Ze'ev had been sentenced, and his execution was scheduled for dawn. The only way out was to fight, so fight he would.

Never mind that the idea of the arena was repugnant to him. Never mind that he felt nothing but pity for his proposed opponent, a feral wolf so abused it was beyond his ability to communicate with it on any level. Never mind that his honor as one of the Canin, the Wolf Clan, and his pride in himself as a man was at stake. Ze'ev was determined to live, and the only way to do so was to suck it up and take his place in the arena this afternoon.



"You are one of the lucky ones," Luthar was preening, as if Ze'ev's so-called good fortune had something to do with him. "The Crown Princess will be in the stands today. She's seeking her First Consort, and today's champion, should she find him acceptable, will fill that role."



Oh Sacred Mother. Even if he won, Ze'ev wouldn't be free. He'd have a wife to contend with.



A low growl and flick of his hand sent Luthar scuttling out of his way, and Ze'ev moved to peer through the window of the anteroom and into the Coliseum. The battle space, a gentle oval, was fifty feet wide by seventy feet long; more than cozy enough for him to get a good look at the bride in question.



His first reaction to the sight was surprise. He'd seen the Princess Nuriel once, eight years ago as the fifteen-year-old beauty was paraded out of the capital on her way to foster with the Emetran Royal Family. Her expression had been vivacious, her hair a tumble of golden curls and her gown cut to best display her nubile young body. At almost twenty, Ze'ev had been utterly enchanted, and somewhat disgusted with himself. He'd have gutted any man who looked at his twelve-year-old sister the way he was looking at the Princess.



He'd proved it, too.



Ze'ev shook off the reminder of his crime and focused again on the Princess. Gone were the rosy cheeks and voluptuous curves. Instead a pale, thin shadow of a woman sat silently in the stands. Her hair, still a buttery gold in color, was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. The few tendrils that escaped the severe knot looked dull and lifeless.

Ze'ev felt a satisfied smile curl his lips. This woman wasn't looking for a mate, particularly a mate like himself. It would be easy to scare her off, and if she proved problematic, he had no doubt she'd be easily escaped.

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