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Warlord's Storm (Warlords of Empyrea Book 3), page 1
Warlord’s Storm
Warlords of Empyrea
Georgia Lyn Hunter
GENRE: PARANORMAL/FANTASY ROMANCE
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, businesses, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warlord’s Storm
Copyright © 2021 by Georgia Lyn Hunter
First Edition: October 2021
Editor: Celia Breslin
All cover art copyright © 2021 by Georgia Lyn Hunter
Cover artist: Montana Jade
Images: ©iStockphotos.com
All Rights Reserved
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Foreword
Dear reader,
While this novel can be read as a standalone as far as the romance is concerned, it is highly recommended that you read book 1 & 2 first, since it contains an underlying plot that will continue throughout the series.
With that in mind, I hope you enjoy Warlord’s Storm.
~Georgia
GLOSSARY
Ancients: The mystical forces that watches over all realms.
Archangel: Michael: Leader of the Fallen Guardians (also referred to as “Arc.” A term coined by Týr, and used by the others)
Ater’s Hell: The Empyrean version of Hell.
Aehilion: A Misty Realm on the same plane (dimension) as Empyrea.
Celestial Realm: Home to the divine angels.
Darkreans: Name given to a domain of Empyreans, since their powers weaken when they leave Empyrea, and need to equate to recharge their abilities.
Dark Realm: Where the species with dark souls dwell, along with other amorphous entities:
Demonii: Demons who have consumed human souls, and in turn lose their natural dark souls. However, human souls fade within them, and they need to constantly replenish it with another. Human blood temporarily extends the life of the soul.
Demons: A species of supernatural beings with dark souls who resides in the Dark Realm.
Decuris: Governing body of Kalasder.
Empyrea: Made up of seven dominions.
Elyon: Supreme ruler over all seven dominions of Empyrea.
Empyreans: They were created in the image of the divine angels but enjoy a more carnal life. Two level denizens:
1. Higher-level: The High Lords (With vast powers)
2. Lower-level: The working class (limited or lesser powers)
Elysium: Like the mortal Heaven, but where dead Empyrean go to for eternity.
Exilum: A safe realm on a different plane (dimension), for exiled immortals, overseen by an unknown Being.
Fallen: Angels who fall, and give up their wings and stronger abilities when they leave the Celestial Realm.
Fallen Guardians: A formidable group of fallen immortal warriors, banished from their realm, who swore fealty to Gaia to protect humans from supernatural evil. And resides on Earth. Some of whom are referred to by their pantheon’s name.
Gaia: A powerful mystical Being who watches over Earth and mankind.
High Lords (Warlords): Rulers of the seven dominions of Empyrea. Some of whom are Warlords.
Others: A collective term for other supernatural beings, eg: gods, faes, vampires, etc.
Pantheons: Where the gods of various religions dwells.
Realm of the Gods: Subterranean worlds were the pantheon of the gods resides.
Rebels: Lower-level Empyreans/Darkreans who cause strife wanting power.
Stones of Light: The seven mystical Stones of Light resided on Empyrea since the beginning of time. Until one of them, broke the link and vanished. Without the artifact, everything in Empyrea is slowly fading.
Tartarus: Where immortals are incarcerated.
Urias: Spawned off Chaos, Creator of the Empyreans.
Whitefire: An immortal flame that can cause untold destruction. Used to destroy the wings and abilities of angels who fall.
***
Empyrean Wordlist:
Me’morae: my love
Me’seya: sweetheart
Fiyae: baby
Fosser: idiot
Lupa: slut
Lucis: my light
Caeni: filth, scum. Dreg of society
Vae: Damn
Venefica: witchwood
Adad: thunder
Name pronunciation:
Northaen: Nor-thane (North)
Rigel: Ri-gel (hard G)
Vodes: Vo-des
Nythe: Night
Taegér: Tay-jer
Aethan: A-thin
Reynner: Rainer
Aerén: Air- rey-in
Caetra: Sai-ey-tra
Galeia: Guh-lay-uh
Ioael: Eye-oh-ale
Saipha: Say-fa
BLURB
Can a ruthless warrior convince a broken woman to take a chance on love in his dying world?
Deadly warlord Northaen has fought for millennia to preserve what’s left of his angelic dominion of Kalasder. On the hunt to locate one of the prophesized women who will help save his realm and take her back with him—or steal her if he had to—he comes face-to-face with a fiery female with the wounded eyes, one who threatens his iron-clad control and turns his world upside down.
Cruelly betrayed, all Kataya Jamison wants is to lick her wounds someplace quiet, not clash with a maddening immortal who believes she possesses the mystical blood magic his world desperately requires. With her life falling apart, it’s the last complication she needs. But when rebels snatch her, and the intractable man comes to her rescue, the armor protecting her heart starts to slip.
Together on his bleak realm, and despite her wariness, neither can resist the desire blazing between them. A passion that is intense as it is forbidden. And North will stop at nothing to claim her as his. When his enemies target Kataya, a powerful darkness rises, and their burgeoning bond is viciously tested. But the sacrifice required to defeat it may very well break them both…
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Afterword
Acknowledgments
Also by Georgia Lyn Hunter
About the Author
Chapter 1
“Imagine, finally having Kalasder’s brutal warlord at my mercy.”
At the cool sword caressing the sun-warmed skin of his nape, North gritted his teeth. His head ached as if someone had used it as a punching bag. Exhaustion weighed him down, and the damn fosser would dare threaten him? As if he wasn’t aware of the pain-in-the-ass for the past several minutes.
North didn’t move, remained hunkered down on the pier of the cabin he’d leased in upstate New York, his gaze on the dragonflies skimming the waters of the tranquil lake. “You must truly have a death wish.”
“And yet I hold the sword.”
“You should have run.”
He sprang up as a blade whistled through the air. His own weapon summoned, he spun around and blocked the deadly strike, the clash of metal ringing among the trees. North flashed to the pine-fringed grassy patch, a better place than the narrow wooden pier to dual this out and hack the idiot into pieces.
His second-in-command charged, sporting an annoying smirk, his sword glinting with an otherworldly blue hue. He met the warrior head-on with a lethal swing to his neck—
Or it would have been, but a thunderous crack erupted as Rig countered. North’s blade shattered, the splinters falling onto the grass.
He glared at the broken, human weapon.
“Vae, Adad,” Rigel grumbled, swiping the plasma seeping from his injured neck. “That strike would have had my head flying into the lake!”
Adad? His enforcers persisted with the annoying Thunder designation.
“Did you think being on the human world, I’d be any slower?” North grunted, ignoring the ache on his thigh from an old battle wound as he picked up the metal shards, grateful for the momentary spending of energy. The fight had dropped his roiling power a notch.
“One can hope.” Rigel grinned, slamming his massive, unbreakable Kalasderian sword with the etched hilt into the ground.
“You look a little better after the last battle.” His second’s too perceptive gilded stare did a quick up-down of him.
“Being struck by a spelled arrow would do that.” Damn rebels. They’d used anything to take him down, like he was that easy to kill. Just as well his mage got the barb out in time, but the wound still throbbed.
“So, this is the human realm?” Rigel glanced around him at the tall trees and shrubs surrounding the cabin, then at the calm lake in front. His smile faded. “Our world resembled this once. Temperate weather. Tranquil. Verdant and colorful.”
North watched his old friend and second-in-command—one of the few males he trusted—through narrowed eyes and waited for whatever brought him to Earth.
Rigel exhaled and crouched on the lawn, his attention on the still waters. “We have a problem. The Rean Forest. Something’s wrong there.”
“How do you mean?”
“Oh, the trees are still standing, but they’re fading, too.” His brow furrowed. “It’s hard to explain. You can only feel it.”
“The Decuris are aware of the situation?”
“Aye.” Rigel’s mouth thinned.
The governing body of Kalasder usually oversaw every aspect of the realm. As nobles with higher-level powers, it fell on them to take care of this problem.
They hadn’t. Rigel had sought him out.
The Rean Forest was as vital to them as finding the chosen women now possessing their world’s mystical magic. They needed the forest’s roots to siphon the build-up of their powerful abilities, preventing any potential disasters.
“Just thought you should know.” Rigel exhaled wearily and rose to his feet. “Since you haven’t mentioned the artifact, I imagine the search still goes on?”
At the mention of their quest, a blast of power shot up into his skull, spiking the headache which started days ago. An anomaly that annoyed him to no end. North grunted, pulled the pain deep into him, and nodded. “It does.”
He’d arrived on Earth a few months ago to help find the missing mystical Stone of Light, the one housing the magic of Creation. And one they desperately needed back on Empyrea to stop their realm’s magic from fading further. Except, the Stone wasn’t whole any longer, having shattered a decade ago, choosing human females to safeguard fragments of its power.
At the rate the hunt was going, his dying dominion would be a hunk of gravel, rocks, and endless sand before they found all the chosen. And far too late for Kalasder.
His jaw hardened. He refused to let that happen.
He’d update his enforcers once he returned to Kalasder. “I’ll be there soon. I have something to take care of first. Keep an eye on the Rean Forest.”
“Will do.” With a wave of his hands, a shimmering portal split the air. Rigel stepped through, and the gateway hissed shut.
North headed indoors to change before leaving for Greenwich Village, hoping his suspicions panned out. If Eve and Brenna were both Chosen, then it stood to reason their other friend must be one, too.
All he needed was one of them to take back to his dying realm. And he hoped to the stars it wasn’t too late for Kalasder.
Man, sometimes she hated her job.
Kat strode for her small red Fiat parked a block away from the smelly job she’d just covered. Her photographer had already skedaddled, undoubtedly because of the wretched smell. Heck, she couldn’t blame him. She must stink like shit, too.
Six years and this was what her work life amounted to, covering a burst sewer pipe downtown.
“You’re still young, Kat. Your time will come.” Her editor’s words ricocheted in her head. Gerhard Jenkins of The Daily Journal was a darn stick in the mud when handing out hard-hitting assignments.
Young? In four months, she’d be twenty-seven.
She appreciated he’d given a just-out-of-college reporter a chance all those years ago, and she’d work her butt off since then. But her old insecurities dug their claws deeper every time Jenkins doled out another vapid story to cover. Not good enough for her parents, not good enough for Gerry. It wasn’t like she wanted to win the Pulitzer Prize or something. But, apparently, fashion shows, charity drives, and burst sewers were more her forte—
Wolf whistles erupted from the construction site opposite, hauling her back to the busy street. Her mouth tightened in irritation. To them, her height and stop-sign red hair were like a billboard saying, catcall me. Assholes.
As she reached her car, a small body went flying past. Instinctively, Kat grabbed the child. A little girl with curly dark hair and huge brown eyes looked up at her and grinned, revealing a mouth of tiny pearly whites.
“Thank you, thank you!” the mother panted, rushing to her, hauling a stroller along. “She just got away from me.”
Kat barely heard her, her gaze on the infant asleep in the buggy, her chest cramping. Even a decade later, the loss of her unborn baby hurt like a knife lodged permanently in her heart.
“No problem.” She forced a smile and handed over the boisterous toddler.
The woman sighed as she strapped a safety harness on her little girl. “She thinks she can get to the park faster without me. Thanks again,” she said, and the little family ambled off.
It took a moment before Kat could breathe again. The urge to light up took hold, but since she was trying to give up the nasty habit, she found a mint in her tote and popped it in her mouth.
Maybe spending time with Eve would help her refocus. She hadn’t seen her friend since Brenna came to visit them both a few days ago, shortly before an immortal—a dark angel—had flown off with her.
Jesus. Otherworldly beings in their world?
Kat didn’t even want to even think about it. But since both her friends had fallen for those angelic beings, she didn’t have much of a choice.
An hour later, she drove her car into the Village as twilight hovered, and thankfully, found parking close to Eve’s building. As she began the dreaded parallel parking, her cell rang.
“If it’s important, you can call again. My car doesn’t support hands-free,” she grumbled, maneuvering her Fiat into the shoebox space. The ringing stopped.
Kat switched off the engine and got out of her car. Darn, she should call Eve. Her friend could still be at her studio, which was just around the corner from her apartment. As she leaned in to retrieve her cell from the console, it rang again.
Frowning at the unknown number, she hip-bumped the door shut and answered. When she heard the male voice on the other end, relief flooded her.
Finally. After months of silence.
“Jake?”
North entered Eve and Reynner’s quiet apartment, shutting the door behind him.
Slouched in the armchair, Aerén, the youngest prince of Empyrea, glanced his way. Strands of his light blue hair escaped its tether to frame his brooding features. “You’re back.”
North arched an eyebrow. “You missed me. Good to know.”
Snorting, Aerén slumped lower, staring at the muted news on TV. “I can’t believe we lost a Chosen to the freakin’ Darkrean warlord!”
And that still annoyed the prince to no end. It had been two days since that warlord had left with Brenna back to Dregarus.
“We didn’t lose her, Aerén, she’s in love with him. She made her choice.” He headed for the coffee machine in the galley kitchen.
“Sometimes, I question the wisdom of human females,” Aerén groused, drumming his fingers on the padded armrest. “She could have done so much better than the blackguard, Sebris.”
North understood the prince’s ire since he’d blamed the Darkrean leader for all the troubles Empyrea faced. Most times, North would have agreed with him. However, he didn’t think Sebris was responsible for the disappearance of Aerén’s parents, the cause of the male’s current antipathy.
