Fields of Thunder Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The Prophecy

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Totally Bound Publication

  Fields of Thunder

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-395-2

  ©Copyright Aliyah Burke 2015

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright January 2015

  Edited by Rebecca Douglas

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Sizzling and a Sexometer of 2.

  Astral Guardians

  FIELDS OF THUNDER

  Aliyah Burke

  Book three in the Astral Guardians series

  If you listen you will hear the heartbeat of the Earth…

  Roz Hill is a woman unafraid of her passion. So when she meets a man who gives her a visceral reaction, she doesn’t ignore it. One night leads to more… The discovery of her mate and finding her artifact.

  Altair Sagal has his own code. Roz intrigues him in ways no one has for years. As they learn to be mates, they get tossed into situations that very well may kill them both before their life together even begins.

  Dedication

  To my husband. Thank you for all you do. I love you.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Subaru Outback: Fuji Heavy Industries

  Jack Daniel’s: Brown-Forman Corporation

  Coke: The Coca-Cola Company

  Desert Eagle: Magnum Research

  Ford Fiesta: Ford Motor Company

  Old Yeller: Fred Gipson

  Where the Red Fern Grows: Wilson Rawls

  The Call of the Wild: Jack London

  White Fang: Jack London

  Big Red: Jim Kjelgaard

  Louis Vuitton: Louis Vuitton Malletier

  Louboutin: Christian Louboutin Ltd.

  Manolo Blahnik: Manolo Blahnik

  iPad: Apple, Inc.

  Glock: Glock Ges.m.b.H.

  Jell-O: Kraft Foods

  Quasimodo: Victor Hugo

  BUL M5 Commander: BUL Transmark

  The parts to waken the world’s hope have been scattered far and wide to the winds and throughout the stars.

  It is from there the chosen ones are marked, becoming Astral Guardians.

  Alone their individual defeat has a greater chance than when paired with the amaranthine and genuine love of their mate.

  Those Guardians must find, defend and bind the pieces to call forth the hope of the world.

  It will take courage, strength, love and sacrifice.

  If the Guardians fail, swift death will arrive to the one who calms the beasts.

  With this outcome, the world shall descend into darkness, chaos and anarchy.

  Chapter One

  Rosamund ‘Roz’ Hill forced a smile on her lips while she turned to face the man behind her. The briefcase she held glanced off her left leg as she spun.

  “Trent,” she commented. “What a surprise to find you in here… This courtroom where you weren’t in. The hospital finally kick you out for poaching their clients?”

  His grin—more of a leer—turned her stomach. “Ha ha.” He flicked a piece of lint from the right shoulder of his suit. “I wanted to take you out for a celebratory dinner.”

  His smugness had her itching to smack him. Repeatedly.

  She blinked a few times, flummoxed. “A celebratory dinner? What the frack could we possibly have to celebrate?”

  “My dear. This is the day you agreed to date me.”

  That was it. Her blood pressure had surely skyrocketed through the roof. She lifted her chin to glare down her nose at the much taller, arrogant prick watching her. She longed to lash out at him, despite the fact she remained in a rapidly emptying courtroom. Soon, it would just be the two of them.

  “I’ve tried being nice to you, but you are apparently unable to get a fuck-blasted clue. I will again make this as clear as I can for you. We aren’t dating. We will never date and I—”

  He peered over his shoulder to wave at someone and she caught a glimpse of a small tattoo positioned behind his left ear. It froze her blood.

  The New Order’s symbol.

  How did I not know about him being part of that faction?

  He returned his baby blues to her face. “What were you saying?”

  Like you don’t know, bastard. “Stay away from me, Trent.” With squared shoulders, she was ready for any sudden movement he might make. She flexed her fingers around the handle of her briefcase. “Keep away. Far away.”

  She whirled around and tramped off before she did something stupid and attacked Trent.

  Sure, jail time. That’s just what I need. Wonder how Lian would like me to call him with that bit of news.

  “Bitch,” he snarled behind her. “What are you, a fucking lesbo? You act all holier than thou but you’re just a piece of pussy.”

  Let it go, Roz. Be bigger than that tiny little excuse for a man who must assume that because you don’t want him, you must be a lesbian. I mean, what woman wouldn’t want him? Right? Oh, that’s right. Me. I don’t like slime.

  She forced herself to continue toward the large double doors—all that remained between her and freedom.

  “Probably can’t even please a man. I was trying to do you a favor, you whore.”

  Nope, she couldn’t. Roz pivoted back toward him and marched up. “Pick one or the other, you pathetic waste of sperm. I couldn’t be a whore if I didn’t know how to please men or women. No need to be so jealous. No one will touch you with a ten-foot pole. You just don’t have it.”

  His face, normally composed and collected, morphed into something ugly and cruel. Instantly her sign awoke, sensing her increased concern and irritation. Power danced along her skin as she instinctively readied for battle.

  �
�You little cu—”

  “Do not finish that sentence if you care to see tomorrow.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “I know who you are. You should take care not to piss me off. Had you been nice to me, I may have put in a good word for you. You didn’t. Do you know who I am?”

  Roz stepped forward until the open toes of her stilettos brushed against his dress shoes. “You’re a scum of The New Order.”

  “Then perhaps you should be nicer.”

  “Why? I deal with the big players. Gravett, Hara, Haley, Uma.” She sneered at him. “Not Trent.”

  “You bitch.”

  “Yawn. Got anything important to say?”

  “You think you’re so smart. You don’t stand a chance against us.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Us? What us? You are an expendable body to them. Nothing more.” Contempt dripped like acid from her words.

  “I’m important.”

  “In your own mind, I’m sure. Stay away from me, Trent. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

  “What decision is that?”

  “Walking away.”

  Roz had pulled a one-eighty and taken a step when his hand curled around her. She closed her eyes and counted. One, two. How do I do this without looking to the cameras as if I’m killing him? And enjoying it? Or am the instigator. Thirteen. Better question, should I care? Fifty-five… Oh fuck it. I’ll take my punishment.

  She growled low in her throat and began facing Trent when a deep voice cut in, “You need to let the woman go.”

  The timbre brought to mind long, drugging nights of sex, toe-curling orgasms and a whole other set of thoughts she didn’t need to be thinking currently. Forgetting Trent, she turned in the other direction.

  Oh hell. Where he’d come from, she hadn’t any clue. She knew damn sure the man hadn’t been in during the court session. She wouldn’t have forgotten him. Thick black hair was in a shorter clip, one that exaggerated his steely onyx eyes. His dark complexion boasted of his Middle Eastern blood. He moved with purpose across the floor, the fit of his jeans dragging her gaze to his crotch.

  Focus!

  She yanked her eyes up and found his full attention on Trent, so she had no clue if he had noticed her staring. He’d partially tucked a deep green tee into his jeans and it stretched over his broad shoulders. Large black boots covered his feet.

  “Stay out of this.” Trent’s tone was harsh.

  “Let her go.”

  A knight in shining armor. Damn, this man is something else if I’ve forgotten the jerk-off’s touch on my arm. She yanked her arm, only for Trent to dig his hold in tighter.

  “This doesn’t concern you.”

  “I’m in agreement, Trent. You need to let go of my arm. Now would be preferable.”

  Trent practically slammed her arm down.

  “Leave.”

  She refocused on her savior. All those lustful feelings swamped her once more. If Trent’s demand bothered him in any way, he never showed it.

  “I am leaving after the lady, not before.”

  With a voice like that, she was ready to leave now.

  “Listen up, you Taliban motherfucker.”

  The newcomer lifted his eyebrow. Roz shook her head at Trent’s stupid comment. She walked up to the man and smiled. He didn’t return it. Still it didn’t stop moisture from soaking her panties. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

  His gaze remained distant. “After you, ma’am.”

  Ahh, the strong, silent type. I bet he’s awesome in the bedroom.

  “You and I aren’t finished talking, Roz.” Trent’s tone was ugly.

  “We never started.”

  Her forward momentum took her right past her new meaning of tall, dark and handsome. He smelled like fresh sawdust and the crack of dawn, right when it’s all clean and new—a scent she knew well, for it was her favorite time of day. A time of purity and reflection.

  And now I will always be thinking of this man and I’ll be horny as well.

  Roz exited the room with brisk steps. She heard him behind her, soft footfalls but confident. She wanted to turn around and look at him once more. I want a lot of things—however, doesn’t mean I get them all.

  She checked her watch and hardly contained her curse. Thanks to Trent and his New Order crappy attitude, she had barely ten minutes to get to her next court case.

  I hate days like this.

  In her office waiting for her sat a lovely fresh fruit salad, full of kiwi, mandarin oranges, mango, blueberries, grapes—fresh from the vineyard—and more. She’d been looking forward to a few minutes of bliss, quiet and sustenance.

  Now what? I have to haul ass so I can look over case notes. No time to head back to my office, no time to eat. Hell, I doubt I have time to pee.

  She rubbed the corner of her eye, wondering if she could stave off this migraine until after court. Roz paused and peered behind her.

  The man had returned to the scaffolding and was ascending with agility and grace. Such a nice view from down here.

  “Roz!”

  Jefferson Gates ran up to her, suit askew and hair at all angles. Her concern for him rose to the top of her mind. Jefferson was a good friend. However, he was getting on in years and wasn’t in the best of health. His beet-red face and huffed breathing didn’t make her feel any better.

  “What’s wrong? You look horrible.”

  “I’m having a problem and need your advice.”

  Looks like you’re about to have an aneurism. “I’m due in court, Jefferson. Can we walk and talk?”

  “Yes.” His breaths were fast and shallow.

  Although she despised elevators, Roz knew he couldn’t make it to the third floor at her speed and talk, much less carry on an intelligible conversation. “Let’s take the elevator.”

  “Yeah, good idea.”

  I’m sure. She reversed direction to make her way to the small metal box. Oh damn. Her new erotic dream inspiration was right there on the scaffolding, all tight clothes and flexed muscles. His tool belt accentuated lean hips and a firm ass. She longed to root her feet into the floor and ogle the man. Damn job, getting in the way of my viewing pleasure.

  He looked at her in that second. She smiled at him, unashamed to have been caught staring. He merely gave a nod.

  Something about him wouldn’t let her just move on. She stepped into the elevator and took a deep breath. I can do this.

  “What’s wrong, Roz?”

  The comforting sound of Dracen’s voice lessened her tension like a rainbow vanishing into the air. “I am in an elevator. I’m okay—or will be once I am out.”

  “If you are sure.” Dracen’s presence vanished as fast as it had arrived in her mind.

  “What’s up, Jefferson?”

  He loosened his already loose tie even more. “This is the situation.”

  Despite her need to look over her notes for this next court case, she gave him her undivided attention as they shot up to the third floor.

  * * * *

  Altair Sagal released a breath he’d been unaware he was holding once the doors to the elevator slid shut, blocking his view of the sexy attorney with the ease of a brick wall. Normally a single glance at a woman did nothing for him more than Yes, she is hot. This one, however—this Roz, as the older gentleman and the scum asshole had called her—it was like all he could think of was shoving that tight skirt of hers up over that bubble butt and fucking her until they both passed out from exhaustion.

  Her light gray suit conformed around her fit body like a wet dream. No, it wasn’t more than a proper work outfit, but to him—on her—it was sex, pure and simple. Those damn long legs of hers, toned to perfection, carried her as a woman with purpose.

  He scowled when he spied the jackass who had bothered her. Something about him was off. Altair didn’t know what, but it was something. The urge to protect had swarmed over him.

  I am not even sure how I knew there was something going on in there. Something just told me to get in
there and do it fast.

  He got back to work. Replacing windows wasn’t anything exciting to many but, personally, he loved watching and being part of a building as it came to life—or back to life, in this one’s case. The old courthouse had been renovated a while ago but the contractors had supplied some shoddy windows. He’d been asked to come in and replace them.

  * * * *

  At the end of his work day, he undid his tool belt and draped it over his shoulder. Readjusting the ball cap on his head, he took three steps then froze. The tingling zipping up and down his spine told him all he needed to know. She was behind him.

  He pivoted and found his senses had been spot on. She stood there, her gray suit just as pristine as it had been earlier in the day. He, on the other hand, was sweaty and dirty.

  She flowed toward him in the manner with which water flows over rocks—surely and effortlessly. She gave a small shake of her head while she assessed him.

  “I’m Roz.” She offered her hand.

  Wiping his own off on his pant leg first, he accepted. “Altair.”

  Her grip was strong and warm. Spikes rocketed through him and, from her expression, he could tell that she was experiencing the same thing. From the corner of his eyes he swore he saw some lightning but when he turned to see, the sky was still blue outside.

  She released him and stared, eyes wide and pupils dilated. His cock hardened in his jeans. He’d never wanted to kiss a woman so much in his life. Curving his fingers into his palm, he glued himself to the spot.

  “I wanted to thank you for what you did today.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “Maybe not to you, but it was to me. Can I buy you dinner as a thank you? Or, do you have a Mrs. Altair waiting for you?” She pursed her lips. “Or Mr.?”

  He laughed. “No Mr. waiting for me. Never will be. Nor is there a Mrs.—or anyone angling to be.”