Witchblood by Lissa
Kasey
Blurb:
Sebastian Volkov, a fox shifter raised among
werewolves, ran from everything he ever loved after a brutal attack that left
him fearing his own shadow. That night a single kiss saved his life and left
him with fantasies of a man whose face he couldn’t remember. When Sebastian’s
car breaks down in a small Washington town, he meets an Alpha werewolf who
reminds him vaguely of a stranger’s kiss.
A year ago Liam Ulrich, Alpha of the Northern
Cascade’s Pack, shared a magic filled kiss with a virtual stranger, the
infamous Witchblood child of the most powerful werewolf in the world. Since
that night, Liam has been waiting for Sebastian to find his way home. Liam
knows that Sebastian doesn’t trust easily, or at all, so he’s going to have to
give his prickly mate time and space.
The past Sebastian tried to escape still stalks
him and slowing down gives it time to catch up.
When the werewolves’ ultimate enemy rises up to
cast its shadow over them all, Sebastian realizes he will have to stop running
or risk losing everything…. including his hope of a future with Liam.
Excerpt
The wind shifted. The scent of werewolves filled my nose. Dammit.
I knew I shouldn’t have taken the free food. The bread had been plain, not
easily tracked while stuffed away, but the sugar? A highly trained wolf could
probably smell it from miles away.
There were few options. Run, which would attract the wolves and
bring chase, forcing their beasts to hunt me even if that wasn’t what they had
come for. Hide, which was unlikely even with my strongest wards. Or surrender
and possibly die. Not the greatest selection of choices.
I chose the first and ran toward the car, praying I’d get it to
start. Determination could often give magic an added edge. Seconds later the
sounds of snarls and huffs of a chase filled my ears. I ran until I could hear
the claws ripping through the brush, snarls and snorts edging closer behind me.
There was more than one. My sensitive nose differentiated at least three
different scents, none of them familiar. I didn’t stop to ask their names and
looking back was only something people did in the movies right before they
died. Instead I envisioned my legs and arms pumping hard enough to make me fly.
I couldn’t actually fly, but the visualization spell did increase my speed a
little. The balance of weight and resistance was all the spell changed. Maybe
it would be enough.
They should have been able to outrun me. I was human, mostly. On
two legs I was slower than most weres, but had years practicing just what I was
doing now. My adoptive father had always told me not to run as it only made an
aggressive werewolf worse. When the other option was death, it wasn’t much of
an option. Rational thought told me that if they were sent by my adoptive
father they didn’t want me dead, probably just good and scared. If they weren’t
sent by him then I was just a trespasser and no one would miss me.
I reached the car in record speed, glad I’d left it unlocked. Not
like there was anything in it to steal. I dove in through the passenger door,
closing and locking it behind me and struggling out of the pack. The windows
were up as I’d been unable to get them to work properly the entire time I’d
owned the car. It was a small barrier, but all I really had. I flopped into the
driver’s seat and put the key in when metal screeched as one of the wolves
landed on the roof hard enough to dent it.
Fuck.
It was a gray beast with endless fangs and claws that scraped at
the windows. Werewolves were about twice the size of normal wolves. Bigger
often than the human they’d been, and about a hundred times deadlier. Inside
the car I’d drawn wards. Just minor protection spells to keep the glass from
breaking and lend strength to the frame. It wouldn’t hold for long.
The car didn’t start. Didn’t even sputter like it had any life
left in it. I cursed it and kicked the dash. Now was not the time for it to
ignore my magic.
One of the wolves jumped on the hood and lunged at the windshield
with claws and fangs. Another scraped along the side of the car, producing the
horrible high-pitched squeal of tearing iron. My wards would not stop them from
tearing the car to pieces around me. The windshield began to splinter. Too much
weight threw the whole car out of balance as the roof caved in, the sides were
torn away and the windows smashed.
Choices. Life is filled with them. Some of them easy, like what to
have for dinner. Others were a matter of life and death. Not really choices at
all. I was out of choices. The car was coming apart around me. No one shifted
to talk to me, so these wolves hadn’t likely been sent by my adoptive father.
Not unless he wanted me dead. And didn’t the idea of that just burn like a
knife to my guts? The only choice I had left was to abandon it all, change, and
run.
As a human, I was slower than most werewolves even with my supply
of spells. As a human, I was also limited in resources. My magic wasn’t strong
enough to hurt them so my spells focused on defense more than offense. I
suspected that was the only reason I’d been allowed to live among the were for
so long. For a time, I avoided changing because it seemed to attract the others.
Like they could sense me pulling on whatever invisible magic that tied me to
the universe. The only real power I had was my own change. Nothing so
spectacular as a wolf. Not vicious or even all that predatory.
My alternate form was no match for a werewolf.
“My beautiful little fox,” Felix had often said
with a smile on his face. “So wily and quick witted.” Only now did I
realize how much he’d viewed me as a possession. Just a pretty toy to be set on
a shelf.
I wasn’t a toy. I was witchborn. Sometimes the only
advantage I had from a change was that it startled others, gave me time to slip
away, or even masked my scent. Often surprise and speed were all I really
needed.
I wriggled out of my clothes as the windshield began to crumple and
the driver’s side door squealed as it was ripped away. Weres took time to
change, as long as a half an hour for some of the lesser wolves. The stronger
wolves could shift in ten minutes or so. My change was seamless, a gift of
magic born, not a curse of blood exchange.
One second I was human, the next I was fox. Small, slippery, and
zipping between the legs of the wolf with the door under his fangs. Darting
under his belly, I bolted, propelled by magic and fear. I crossed the road
running, under, over and through, squeezing myself through openings that the
wolves would never fit and zig-zagging to confuse whatever route they thought
I’d take. They were behind me. I could hear them, but had to focus on my
escape.
Run! My little fox brain didn’t have all the
same higher functioning I did as a human, but it was close. Panic, however, was
still panic, and my fight or flight mode was stuck in all out flight. Run,
run, run, I chanted to myself, not really paying attention to the path.
Even as a fox I was only barely faster than them. I wove through
roads, brambles and trees, hoping to slow them down. One of them leapt, close
enough to brush my tail, and I ran that much harder. It was a game to them now,
I realized. Two off to my sides, herding me in for their alpha to catch. I
wondered again if it was the alpha from the bakery. He’d seemed nice. Had
pretty eyes and dimples. It was only fitting that he be a monster since I’d
wanted him. A reminder of how bad I was at choosing men. A curse of my family
maybe. My mother had the same hard luck. Falling in love with a Native American
man who died before he could know I’d ever been conceived. She’d always told me
that love was something people wrote about in books. Lust was what happened in
real life and got people in trouble. Once again I thought she might be right.
I ran out of road. There was a wall of some kind. Like the sort
built on the side of roadways, only there was no grade to it, it was just
straight up and down as far as I could see. The two werewolves closed in from
the sides, and the final one’s claws crunched on gravel behind me. I hadn’t
even noticed we’d found a gravel road of some sort. A place for water runoff
maybe. The place I was probably going to die.
Bracing myself with my back to the wall, I turned to face them, my
fangs and claws no match for three werewolves, but I’d go down fighting. Better
a fox than a human to be ripped apart and left for the crows. At least in this
form I had fangs and claws too. The burning in my left arm intensified. More wolves?
Fuck.
The large gray wolf growled at me, inching closer slowly. He must
have been enjoying the scent of my fear. One of the other wolves boxing me in,
took a swipe, which I dodged, but it caught the edge of my flank, opening a
gash along my right hip. I yelped as pain flared. I expected them all to attack
and end my run.
Only something flew overhead, landing with the force of a truck on
top of the gray wolf. Another launched itself from the top of the wall into the
wolf who’d injured me, tearing out its throat. The gray wolf battled a huge
black wolf now. The two of them rolling, snarling, and tearing at each other.
The third wolf came for me. I ducked and rolled beneath him, turning until my
tiny claws were up to rake open his belly.
Hot blood poured over me, but the were just huffed and did a
little skid-turn to raise a paw at me. I felt the hit before I really saw him
move. Pain exploded through all of my senses. Stars, and swirls of color
overflowed my vision as his claws connected with the side of my head. I was
sure he punctured my skull, and I flew into the wall, body blossoming into
pain. It was an explosion through my spine up into my brain. The world faded as
I lay in a broken heap on the ground beside the wall, watching the black wolf
fight the gray, and the second wolf, a pale brown one, launch itself at the
wolf that had hit me.
This was it, I thought. So much for ever going home. Or finding a
home. So much for the dreams of freedom. My heart pounded. I felt blood seeping
from my head. There were tattoos on my left arm and right wrist that were
supposed to help speed healing. It wouldn’t be enough. Not if my spine was
broken and my skull fractured. My body couldn’t hold enough energy to heal
bones and keep me from bleeding out at the same time. At least it would be
fast, I had enough time to think as the darkness overrode my vision. I sank
into the darkness, to the growls of the werewolves fighting, reminding me of home.
5 out of 5 stars
Lissa Kasey is back with a brand new book in a brand new urban fantasy/paranormal series... And what a wild, extremely addicting and satisfying ride this book was from start to finish! Witchblood is the first book in the Kitsune Chronicles. If you've never read this author's books before you're in for a treat. If you were already a fan, be prepared for a book that you won't want to put down. I got so sucked into this book while on lunch at work one day, I was late clocking back in.
While I won't delve too deep into the plot because I don't want to spoil it for anyone. So, Witchblood features a kitsune raised as part of a werewolf pack. Now of course Kitsunes are not normal shifters, so Sebastian hasn't had the easiest time of it. Too many in the Volkov pack fear him and/or hate him but also want to use him for his omega calming powers. All of this shapes Sebastian into who he is, and leaves him with scars and issues to overcome.
The story is told completely in Sebastian's voice, which worked rather well for this story and these characters. The pace of the story was tight and kept me engaged from start to finish. This could easily be a one sitting read for so many readers but I caution reading it too fast as you might miss some of the subtle things that happen in the book. There are many elements to the story from Sebastian being in a werewolf pack, working in the bakery, and even digging and planting his herbs for his alchemy projects.
I'm completely hooked on this series and honestly can't wait to see what the author has in store for her characters next. I highly recommend picking up this book and indulging in a fantastic urban fantasy read.
Blog Post #1: Angst and Interesting Reading
Reading angst-filled stories can be heartbreaking because we, as
humans, connect to pain in a very emotional way. Often on social media, you’ll
see someone who posts about how a book made them cry, or even something as
small as a meme. Some wonder why anyone reads the stuff if it effects them
emotionally that way. Masochism? Probably not. More likely we identify with a
character, their story, or even a situation, and it gives us just a tiny bit of
hope for ourselves. Books are an escape from our real world problems. As a
voracious reader I grew up spending my days lost in made up worlds, learning
about people who had never really existed and wishing I were there. Not much
has changed now that I’m an adult and a writer as well as a reader.
I wrote my first novel in the sixth grade. It was called Ship
Wrecked and featured a group of teenagers who had been ship wrecked on an
island which was full of booby traps. At the time I’d been reading a lot of
Christopher Pike books, so the story had a pretty grim outcome. In fact
everything I wrote for the first twenty years of my life erred on the side of
total destruction to my characters. Lots of rejection later, I learned that
destroying a character might be fun, but it was the rebuilding that made for
enjoyable reading. How often have you read a series in which the author killed
off a favorite character and you angrily said you’d never read them again, only
to buy the next book anyway?
Growing up in a less than ideal family I had a lot of hardship
that I poured into my writing to ease some of the daily sadness. I read a lot
of romance, but didn’t starting writing it until I was in my late twenties.
Romance was candy. It was easy for my brain to attach happiness to it because
it didn’t mirror anything I’d ever experienced in real life. Until that point
I’d been writing urban fantasy, and thought, well let’s see if I can add a bit
of this candy to all my angst. Which was how Inheritance was born. If you
haven’t read it, the Dominion series was my first urban fantasy romance series.
It was also my first published books. I learned a lot from the dynamic of
damaged characters. All the expectations of life and fear of failure I dropped
into Seiran and let him run with it. Poor guy. He’s come out okay. And to those
who’ve asked, yes there will eventually be a book five.
My latest urban fantasy romance, Witchblood, has some
similarities. Sebastian has been running from his past and himself for a long
time. He’s got so much self-doubt that he expects everyone to stab him in the
back, even people he’s never met before. His personal growth is not so much
about trusting again, that will take time. Often a lifetime. It’s more about
having hope to try. None of his problems are solved overnight. When Liam tells
him they are fated mates, Sebastian is wary and ready to run again.
I recently did a poll in my author group. What would people do if
they found out they had a fated mate? The major of them answered: Research the
hell out of them. Our suspicious world demands knowledge. But if they didn’t
have hope that it was real, would they look at all? I think that’s why angst is
such a beloved genre in the romance niche. Everyone loves the brain candy every
once in a while with the simple boy meets boy and they fall madly in love,
happily ever after. But we know that’s not how life works most of the time. And
hope for a character who’s a little damaged like us to find love, is a pretty
big motivator.
One of my favorite lines from the book is one of those that just
free-flowed from my life. Sebastian had just found out that Liam has a grown
daughter. So Sebastian assumes that Liam is the typical alpha, married with
kids. His thoughts are: I sighed, fantasy
bubble bursting into shards of emotional glass. Reality is that Sebastian
has made a wrong assumption and caused himself pain. Sebastian is an untrusting
bastard who runs into a wall that is his fated mate. How he reacts is based on
his upbringing and personal choice. He could run again. Or he could take a
chance. We as readers enjoy the angst taking that chance brings the story. Even
if it cuts us along the way.
Bio:
Lissa Kasey
is more than just romance. She specializes in in-depth characters, detailed
world building, and twisting plots to keep you clinging to the page. All
stories have a side of romance, emotionally messed up protagonists and feature
LGBTQA spectrum characters facing real world problems no matter how fictional
the story.
Social Media Links:
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/44100736-witchblood
