Author C. Desert Rose is happy to bring you "If Death Should Love Me; Fate's Endeavor Series Book 1" absolutely FREE for the first and last time this year.
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Here is what readers are saying...
"Can a love story come from death to the living or from the living to death? You'll have to find out... As a paranormal romance series, I would recommend this one." A. Lopez Jr, Goodreads.
"If Death Should Love Me is a wonderfully written paranormal romance that offers a mixture of love, humor, and adventure." Carol Cassada, Goodreads.
"... I must say this book is WONDERFUL!!!!! I love it! I am currently reading it a 2nd time. You will not regret reading this book." Drandie Dodson, Goodreads.
If Death Should Love Me
Fate's Endeavor Series
Book One
Excerpt
Copyright C. Desert Rose & AAPH
Comoros, Africa
197 A.D.
I was eighteen. A
man in both body and mind. No longer was I the boy that wished to prove himself
a man. There was no doubting it—everyone knew the man I had become. My wife,
family and friends were proud of the person I now was.
Everyone knew, as
did I, that as the first born son I would be the inheritor of my father's
reign. Unless of course, something should happen to me.
Now, in being a
husband and a prince, I was of the right mind to have many sons. This was,
after all, the way of my people.
I was hunting,
readying my wife, soon to be born child and myself for the winter that was
quickly approaching. From afar I heard my sister's voice calling me. “Amari!
Amari! Come... come quick! It is time!”
The thought came
that I must have lost track of time, I had not realized that I had been away so
long. That morning Sulika mentioning that she felt some discomfort. When I
asked her if she would be alright, she assured me that she was fine, that there
was nothing to worry about as she still had another two weeks before her child
baring day. So clenching my teeth, I went ahead and left to hunt, deciding
against my better judgment.
And yet, here was
my little sister, gravely calling for me to return.
There was no
denying it, the time had come. I would be a father. Today.
Running fast
through the jungle, making certain that I would not miss the big event, I
practically flew through it. All of the women gathered together in Sulika's
birthing hut call out to me, urging me to hurry. Sulika had been calling for
me. It was not customary that a man enter the birthing hut, but this time the
women made an exception as I was being insistently requested by my wife.
Sulika's mother
came to me, “Amari. Please, hurry. She has been calling for you.”
Sulika?” I called
softly, she heard me and looked over in my direction. Her skin so very pale—a
thin blanket of snow upon rich chocolate skin, it was. Completely flushed of
color. Her lips were dry and cracked.
She saw me and
reached to me, “Amari,” she spoke, so softly, so void of strength, that I
barely made out what she had said. “Come.”
Closing the
distance between us, I sat at her side and took her hand in mine. Then grabbed
a rag that was beside me and wiped her head. “I'm here now. Fear not.”
She smiled a very
weak, fragile grin, “Yes. Thank you.” This birthing was indeed taking a toll on
her.
“No worries love,
soon it will all be over and you will be holding our baby in your arms in no
time at all,” I smiled at her and continued chatting, hoping inwardly that it
was making her feel better. “It will be a boy. Strong, like his father. His
mother's eyes. We will walk around the entire village displaying his greatness.
Everything will be over before you know it.”
A contraction. She
squeezed my hand with whatever strength she still contained. She moaned and
whimpered. My heart broke for her. With my other hand, I rubbed her back, “I am
here, love. I am right here.” She breathed, trying to ease the pain. Still it
was of no use because she had no strength. No fight was left in her. So once
again I commenced my babbling, hoping that to a certain extent it would help
her feel better—even if just the slightest bit. “When he grows, I will make
sure that he becomes the tribe's best hunter. And, he will be the tribe's
strongest man,”
She looked at me
with hopeless eyes. “What if it is a girl?”
“Well if it is a
girl, she will look and be everything like her mother. Nothing like her father.
I would not want to ruin a perfectly good thing.”
Another
contraction. She tensed. I could feel the pain that ran through her also run
through me. I wished and prayed to all the tribal gods that they would help me
ease her pain somehow.
My mother pulled me
aside for just a moment. “Amari, she is not well. We are doing everything we
can. But, her labor is not normal. The child is breached. She is losing too
much blood.”
My hands began to
shake, I was irrecoverably unnerved. “What is going to happen, Mama?”
“I do not know my
son. We are doing all that we can. I hope the gods help her through this.”
For a long time, I
did not leave her side, not letting her hand go for a second. I could feel the
life drain from her with every breath. I worried deeply for her and my unborn
child.
After several hours
of agony and pain, it was time.
All the women
scurried around her, cheering her on as best as they could. Some ran about
trying to collect cloths, others gathered hot water, some had tools in their
hands. And Sulika, was weakened— flimsy and lifeless. I panicked. They were
screaming, yelling, fussing about.
All of it seemed
like a blur. My eyes were fixed on my wife, observing that she was even paler
now, than just a little while ago. I
bent over her. If it was a reflex of protection or desperation, I do not know.
I needed to collect my emotions. Then I kissed my wife's forehead and whispered
into her ears. “Everything is going to be alright.”
“No... it is not.” was
her reply, and her words seeped out of her lips like soft, supple smoke from a
dimming candle. Barely audible, barely there.
“Push, Sulika,
push!” Someone demanded. She used whatever strength she had and pushed. This
went on for just a few minutes. At one given moment she pushed with all her
might. Then, I heard my wife take a long aching breath, and breathed no more.
My heart dropped to
my stomach.
I looked at her,
staring, hoping that what I had just seen was in my own imagination. I heard
more commotion. The women were running amuck. They began to yell and scream to
each other.
Everything turned
into slow motion. Muffled voices, screams and cries. Yet my eyes were fixed on
my wife.
For a split second
I looked down at the child. A girl. She
was right, but the babe was
lifeless as well. She flopped like a wet rag in the arms of my mother-in-law.
Just like that, it
was all over. My wife and my child were gone. I had lost everything that meant
anything to me in a matter of a day. I was broken. Destroyed.
I named the child
Alala, meaning like a dream—for that was all that she had been. A dream...
We buried them together,
the tomb read; “My FIRST and ONLY wife,
Sulika and our little angel Alala. You will never be forgotten.”
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