#ReleaseDay Warlord’s Captive by Lisa Cach

Posted 10 August, 2015 by angypotter in Blog Tour, Books, Release day / 0 Comments

#ReleaseDay Warlord’s Captive by Lisa CachWarlord's Captive by Lisa Cach
Find the Author: Website, Twitter, Goodreads
Published by Pocket Star Genres: Erotica, Historical, Romance
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Source: Simon & Schuster

Fifty Shades of Grey meets Game of Thrones in this erotic, passionate novel—Part 4 of the 1,001 Erotic Nights series from nationally bestselling author Lisa Cach—about a Roman Empire sex slave on a journey of betrayal, seduction, vengeance, and love.

Beautiful Nimia, who was tutored in sexual arts by her first master, a king, is very appealing to powerful men in more ways than one: she has a prophetic gift that’s triggered by sexual encounters.

In Warlord’s Captive, Nimia’s quest to find her lost tribe and develop her prophetic power takes her to Britannia, to find a druid called Merlin who’s renowned for his sorcery…and his sexual perversions. Though Merlin is the one man who might understand her, it’s his half-brother Arthur whom she sees in her visions. But before she can go to either of them, she’ll have to escape the clutches of the scheming warlord Mordred.

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1

Frigid water splashed my face, jolting me awake. I wiped the spray from my eyes with frozen hands and tasted salt on my lips. Waves that had been high as my waist before I dozed off were now above my head, the bow of the open boat smashing against them and sending sprays of water back upon us.

“A storm is rising,” Terix said, glancing up at the darkening skies. He huddled beside me against the boat’s side, wrapped in a woolen cloak that had been sodden since we left the coast of Gaul eight days ago. His freckles stood out against the pallor of his skin; he’d been seasick for those eight days, too. “Neptune must hate me.”

“You should take it as a compliment.”

“Eh?” His weary eyes looked at me in question, the shadows beneath them deep gray. He needed dry land beneath his feet and a warm bed. I’d never seen him this drained of life, his usual spark smothered by the endless rolling of the sea—and of his gut.

“It’s envy,” I said, trying to cheer him. “Neptune knows what an enormous cock you have, and he wants it shrunken with misery as long as Salacia is near, lest she be tempted to ravish you.” Salacia was Neptune’s wife, according to the Romans, and goddess of salt waters.

A muscle flicked in his cheek, as close as he could come to a smile.

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