Ballad of the Serpent God - The Water Hunter

Ballad of the Serpent God - The Water Hunter

57 13 13

When a wandering priestess seeks shelter from a sandstorm, Water Hunter Aman is assigned to watch her closely-and eliminate her if she threatens the clan. But Ishartu is like a hidden spring in the desert: once discovered, Aman cannot ignore her. She knows secrets about his home that even the Elders have forgotten. She heals with impossible skill. And the more time Aman spends watching her, the more he craves what he shouldn't taste.When his sister's life hangs by a thread, Aman and the clan have no choice but to trust Ishartu. To save his family, she awakens the sacred power slumbering in the Red Crag's depths-a power that demands an ancient price. A ritual where two bodies become one offering, where sacred and profane blur into something that will mark them both forever.Aman surrenders to it willingly.But when he wakes, Ishartu is gone. Vanished into the desert with words whispered to his sleeping ears: "I love you-thus, I must leave."She thinks keeping her secrets will keep him alive. He thinks she underestimates how determined a Water Hunter can be when he's found the spring worth dying for.…

Of Love and Duty

Of Love and Duty

102 14 8

When your Duty lies with your family, there's little space for Love. This is a lesson a young Prince has learned in the harshest manner -- This is a choice a young Witch has made to continue her line. They weren't supposed to know each other's name, only to stick to an agreement that would benefit both, in a manner or the other -- a warm body to chase Dame Death's coldness away -- a child free from ties to ensure the continuation of a bloodline of Magic.But everything changed when the names were spoken aloud-when the acquaintance was officially made. Because a known name bears the key unlocking the heart -- because a known name lets Love slip between the Prince and the Witch.However, that Love was not meant to be, or to survive across Time and Space...…

Lais of Dusk - the Song Thrush

Lais of Dusk - the Song Thrush

66 2 2

Albirea must be queen, her grandmother said. It is her birthright, her duty-her late mother's ambition. She will be strong, cope with humiliation, and swallow her tears to get there.But a song thrush among yellow roses hums of a different life, of a dream of her own, as tempting as a siren's song. And betrayal may lie where it hurts the most.…

The Child

The Child

42 0 1

A Man. A Child. and a Cat who wants its payment.A story in comic script format…

A Birthday To Remember

A Birthday To Remember

9 1 1

Check out my Wattpad birthday story to celebrate 10 years of stories!…

Not a date

Not a date

102 10 2

{Podestaria's 5k reads kirific}Finally, Detective Robert 'Bob' Bergman got the gut to ask the MILF-- ah-hem, lady out. Will he succeed in conquering her heart or will he stay a...... thirtirgin?No, wait. He's a thirtirgin?! NO WAY!…

Back to the Future

Back to the Future

149 20 4

Trueth never meant to cross the Portal, yet when she thought she was stuck in the Past, she gets a chance to go back home.…

wildflowers

wildflowers

115 13 6

An anthology of short, claimless stories.…

God of Cocktails

God of Cocktails

88 13 1

Once upon a time, he distributed soberness and drunkenness at whim. Now he’s the bartender at Camellia Hotel’s Lounge Bar.…

Va tutto bene

Va tutto bene

12 1 1

Eugene Sauveterne è un sedicenne insolitamente soddisfatto della sua vita: adora partecipare ai live di D&D, ha un ragazzo fantastico e, dopo tre anni di duelli a colpi di compiti in classe e interrogazioni, può considerare definitivamente suo il titolo di Primo della classe. Eppure, perché non riesce a fare a meno di sentire fastidio e disagio quando scopre il perché dietro ai brutti voti della sua rivale, Virginia Bergman?Questa side story di Podestaria, in cui esploro il passato di Virginia, partecipa al "Dispetto Contest" indetto dal gruppo FB Io scrivo su EFP.…

Wishing Well  { Les Retrouvailles des Amants }

Wishing Well { Les Retrouvailles des Amants }

124 5 1

He doesn’t have your family’s trademark weatherly eyes – not your Lady Aunt’s stormy or your own rainy-Spring-day grey, neither your father’s Mid¬summer-afternoon-bright-sky blue. He has his eyes, a blue so deep it almost looks purple, the colour of lapis lazuli or the indigo hue. And then you cannot avoid wondering… how much will he grow to look like him? Will he have his chestnut hair, so thick and soft it’s almost a crime? Will he stand like him, tall and proud and grave as a judge – a king – on the brink to sen¬tence a man to death? Will his stride scythe air and rain and fog like his? Will he have that switchblade smile of his, the smile you still fear and love and wish for you alone?{A Thalde ficlet, because Biagio's parents simply are *ç*}…