When a Sun God makes a prophecy, it’s best to heed the warning…
Katherine stands on the edge of ruin. With Ragnarok in full swing and her friends off finding their own lives she can’t find a purpose in her existence. When Baldir, their missing Sun God, kidnaps Katherine and entreats her to care for his friend, a wounded hellhound, Katherine makes a selfish choice for the first time in her life.
Arwan never expected to meet a God, let alone fight a group of them to begin the Apocalypse. After the battle between Bianca, the Horseman of Conquest, and Hel, the Goddess of the Underworld, Arwan, escapes home to the Welsh coast intent to die on his own land.
With Hel dead, the Horseman believe they’ve stalled Ragnarok. But Baldir has a dream that ignites the Horseman to take out the remaining hounds loyal to Hel, which includes the incapacitated Arwan.
Can Katherine go against her friends to save a man she promised to protect? Even if Arwan could end the Horseman for good?
For a moment Arwan merged with the haunting memories, and he found himself in the underworld ravaged by unidentifiable beasts of Fairy. Then the vision cleared and he focused to realize Baldir returned but not alone. He held a duffle bag in one hand, and his other clutching the form of a woman thrown across one shoulder, fireman style. Baldir bent and set the bag down before shifting the weight of the woman into both arms, and depositing her in an arm chair near the fire.
Momentarily stunned, Arwan gawked before recovering. “Who is that?”
Baldir glanced at the sleeping woman before casting his fingers through his shaggy blond hair and then throwing it out like he completed a magic trick. “That is help.”
Arwan doubted the ability of Baldir’s innocuous quarry. “Does she have magical healing powers?”
Baldir screwed his face in a look of contemplation. “I don’t believe so.”
It sounded more like a question than a statement of fact. “Did she come with medicine perhaps? Painkillers would do wonders right now.”
Arwan canted to the right but Baldir reached him before he slumped over, and helped ease him back to center. Then took the seat on the bed beside him.
“She doesn’t have painkillers but she is the most caring and gentle person I know. She will ween you back to health. You have to admit I have a lousy bedside manner.”
Arwan snorted, the pain radiating through him with the action. Baldir did make a terrible caregiver. The man had zero notion of waking and sleeping hours, for a start. Arwan supposed it was a side effect of being a sun god. The man woke at the strangest times spouting complete gibberish only to fall back asleep again and remember nothing the next day.
Baldir once told him he could divine the future and those dreams revealed the fate of the world. It’s why he slept as little as possible. The lack of sleep didn’t quell his charm, and Arwan loved that about his friend. Despite their relationship forming under horrific circumstances.
The woman shifted in the arm chair and then rocketed to standing. She blinked at the fire and then around the room, spinning slowly, until her gaze locked on Baldir. “YOU! What the hell is wrong with you? How could you just abduct me like that? I have a cell phone. You could ask for anything and I would give it if it were in my power.”
Arwan looked her over again from the soles of her scuffed up sneakers to the skinny jeans hugging the strong curve of her upper thighs and the purple tank top setting off the olive tone of her smooth skin.
“Are you a genie?”
Her gaze shot to him his and for a moment he could swear something shifted within him under that glare. “Who the hell are you?”
Baldir would bring home an American. “I could ask you the same question since you’re standing in my house.”
She threw up her hands. “I don’t want to be in your house. I was kidnapped.”
They both looked to Baldir who wore a sheepish grin and a pink flush. With an exaggerated sigh Baldir stood so he could see them both at the same time.
“Ok look.” He faced the woman. “If I had asked you to come here you would have refused. I know it.” Then he turned to Arwan. “And you would have been your surly self about the whole thing and died out of spite instead of letting me get help.”
Arwan glared at him. He’d been called surly, pig-headed, and any other synonym of stubborn over the years, and they all catalogued him correctly. He took a deep breath and glanced back at the woman. “Fine, again I ask who are you?”
She crossed her arms under her breasts. He couldn’t help but notice the full weight of them propped up by her forearms. He must be dying if a woman’s breasts could distract him from the pain. A last reprieve before succumbing. “My name is Arwan.”
She huffed. “Katherine.”
“So what are you then?” He prompted further.
Katherine shuffled from foot to foot, no longer glaring daggers at him. “I’m a barista.”
Buy Links can be found here: https://books.pronoun.com/on-a-black-horse/
Monica Corwin is an outspoken writer who attempts to make romance accessible to everyone no matter their preferences. As a new Northern Ohioian Monica enjoys snow drifts, three seasons of weather, and disliking Michigan. When not writing Monica spends time with her daughter and her ever growing collection of tomes about King Arthur.
Social Media Links:
Newsletter Link with Free Book: https://www.instafreebie.com/free/YClSg