🪨 It's Time For Some Rocks 🪨

Dec 21, 2022 4:01 pm

Guess what? I can finally quit writing extra newsletters all over the place in an effort to bring Gift of Fire to your attention! Yaaaay! 🎊

Now you'll want to know whether all of my extra blabbering newsletters—and author swaps—did any good. Just how many copies of Gift of Fire did we manage to move while it was on sale for 99¢? 🫢

Next week, I'll spill the beans—or rather, the numbers. And if you're rich? Now's the time to grab your copy of Gift of Fire. It's at its regular price of $3.99, which will grant your starving indie author a nice little chunk of change. 💰

Don't forget, if you buy Gift of Fire from my PayPal buy button (the BIG button at the link below), I'll get paid instantly. And keep more of the $$. You don't even need a PayPal account to use that button; it accepts credit cards, too.

https://bf.clcarhart.com/w721mjjj90

What's Next? 🪨 Gift of Stone 🪨

So now that Gabi & Lukas' love story is out in the wild, what comes next in the Elemental Bloodlines series? If you've read Gift of Fire already, you might have noticed a couple hints I dropped in the last chapter—hints focused on our sweet young Keyholder of Erlangen, Henning.

Gabi notices Henning sitting pensively upon a stone at the Teutonic May Festival and decides to offer a listening ear. She quickly learns that Henning has met his new Lady . . . but she's resisting their bond . . . for now. 😱

So WHO is the brand new Lady of Erlangen, Henning's fated mate? And why is she resisting her Keyholder—possibly the sweetest male character in the series thus far? Will they overcome their differences and seize love's wonders?

All the answers are headed your way in Gift of Stone, Book 2 in the Elemental Bloodlines series. Read on for an early look at the very first chapter.

Gift of Stone—Chapter 1 Snippet

Scorching agony consumed me from the inside out. The stench of rotting blood mingled with fires hotter than I had ever experienced choked my lungs. I could not think. Anguish clouded my reason, twisted my emotions into abject hopelessness. I tried to scream, tried to thrash against a torment barred from my eyes. This had to be hell. The eternity I deserved, as a former sex slave with a tainted body. I had always known this would come for me one day.

Heaven held no place for a maiden raped a thousand times over.

It will be the greatest suffering we’ve ever known. But only temporary.

Someone had told me that before this all began. Who? A spark of memory reawakened in my brain, somewhere apart from the trauma. A spirit that refused to capitulate to the fires, to the cruel drowning of blood. My soul, the essence of my inmost self. I had agreed to do this. So had he.

So had he.

Philipp.

My Truhtein. My magnificent, loyal, and gracious Teuton master.

When it’s over, you will be just as strong as I am. Maybe even stronger.

I hope I’m dark energy like you.

These infernal flames charred my spirit, not my body. This was not death, nor was it hell. Sorcery beyond anything I ever imagined before I met Philipp. A terrible magic, one that could transform my standard human blood into something more. Something supernatural. Something Philipp insisted stemmed from angelic forces, from the light that pointed all creatures toward the divine.

Something no ordinary human could attain without deviating to the dark.

The Teutonic blood-transfer.

My spirit continued to convulse with pain, my screams tapering off as I tried to reassert my will. Death would be an easy escape. I sensed it lurking within the shadows, just beyond my reach, calling seductively for my surrender. If I released my tenuous grip on life, on the prospect of a future together with my Truhtein as his true equal, heaven may yet welcome me.

No. My master and I had too much to accomplish on earth. Freeing my mother from a conclave of human traffickers topped the list. We needed to work as a team to bring those criminals to justice. We could not do that if I surrendered to death, no matter how desperately I longed for it.

I needed to embrace the torment, fight the urge to flee into death’s relief. To do that, I needed a distraction. Something to cling to while my spirit burned.

Philipp . . . .

For the first time since this awfulness began, I managed to project a name into the river of flaming blood, rather than mere cries of agony. Philipp was here, too. He had agreed to give his blood for me, to offer his elemental magic in hopes of awakening mine. Both of our spirits would drown in this crimson river until the ritual was complete. Until we regained consciousness as Teutons in full. Partners.

Unless one of us chose to succumb to eternity’s allure.

It occurred to me out of nowhere that maybe my Truhtein would fall prey to death’s call. Maybe he was not strong enough to resist. In my mind’s eye, he was invincible, his dark energy snapping in blackish-purple glory whenever he invoked his magic. But he was an old man. His spirit embodied resilience, but his mortal body? I had done my best to ignore its subtle signs of decay for months now.

Philipp!

I cried out his name again, shoving aside the torment of the flames. I could dissociate from this, too, just like I had done in my childhood, whenever wicked males raped me on camera. This was no different. Temporary. I needed to focus, to find my beloved master. Grant him a portion of my undying tenacity.

Another memory flashed across my brain, a conversation I had with Philipp several days ago. Lenz will put drops in our eyes to blind us both before he starts the ritual, Philipp had told me, his blue-gray eyes grim and serious. Teuton priests believe it’s best for those who undergo the blood-transfer to do so in darkness, for sometimes frightening images appear in the bloody river. But there’s a way to regain your eyesight if you want to, during the process. You must simply envision the blinding liquid as a shield draped over your eyes, and ignite your willpower to peel it free.

Are you going to do that, when we’re in the bloody river? I had asked him, nervous about the idea of facing torture while unable to see. Sometimes my rapists had blindfolded me while they committed their crimes—a demon that often haunted my nightmares.

Philipp pursed his thin lips, his gaze shifting from my face to the window behind me. I might. If only for the privilege of seeing your spirit.

Then I’m going to do that, too, I had pledged fervently, resolved to be just as strong as my Truhtein. That was what I needed to do right now, as fires ate away at my spirit. Peel the shield away from my eyes and find my master.

It took more effort than I expected to tear the curtain away. I was well versed in Teutonic magic already, thanks to a hefty stack of books and Philipp’s guidance. But knowing something and doing something proved far different traits. Twice, I caught a glimpse of vivid red at the edges of my vision, and then the veil dropped back in place. I flexed my fingers and uttered a growl, trying again.

My fight to regain my eyesight took a tiny edge off of the torture, though the flaming blood continued to singe my spirit into dust. It surprised me that I was still alive. How much more of me could this place find to burn? Enough to grant me the Teutonic magic I’ve wanted for years, I told myself. An instant later, the shield fell away from my eyes. Fire immediately reached out to sear them.

Red everywhere. Anguish everywhere. I screamed again, my reason failing me. My arms appeared translucent as I thrashed them against the thick liquid that drowned me. Translucent yet glimmering with blood red fires. Madness.

No. I have to find Philipp.

I managed to transform my wails into Philipp’s name, striking out into the river at the same time. I kicked my legs and worked my arms in the breast stroke, a talent my Truhtein had taught me. Water no longer scared me, because I could swim. This river of blood was just another type of water. And apparently, my lungs could breathe even in this place, even without discernible air.

Was this what it was like to be a Teuton?

Philipp! I cried out, pushing myself further, fighting against a current that sought to plunge me to the river’s depths. Philipp, I’m here! Where are you?

Somewhere in the distance, I heard his voice. The same one that soothed me when images of my past shackled me in iron, convincing me of my worthlessness. That no male could ever want me now that I had breasts. Now that my womb could nurture children. A broken maiden, a weak failure.

Throughout the past five years, Philipp had patiently taught me otherwise. In his eyes, I was strong, a victor, triumphant. Every day, I fought to see myself the way he did. Right now, he needed the powerful Zehra. The one who would claw her way through tides of smoldering blood to reach him.

So I continued to swim, pushing waves of blood behind me as I pressed on. A side corner of my brain began to wonder exactly how much longer this blood-transfer would last. How much longer must the two of us burn and drown? Had our priest placed two Teutonic arteries into my body and given my master two of mine? Would we wake to the morning sun and join our elements in mystical unity?

My eyes widened against the fiery blood as a strange new sense bombarded me from inside my spirit. I could feel my master’s dark energy, quivering as though its vitality had already chosen to succumb. To seize death’s sweet relief. Truhtein, please! I cried out in terror, desperation driving me toward him. Please don’t give in. I’m here with you. I’m here!

I could see him now, his spirit barely visible against the flaming blood. Just a faint trace of energy sparked along his limbs and torso, his teeth bared in agony, his eyes squeezed shut. He did not lash out at the currents, like I had done. His arms hung motionless, his life fading before my eyes. Philipp! I cried, reaching my right hand out to his left.

The eyes of his spirit opened and focused on me, dark energy draining from the rest of his essence to magnify their glow. Zeh . . . ra . . . my shining . . . star.

His mental voice sounded so feeble. If it were possible to cry in this place, my face would have been drenched in tears. I closed my fingers around his, silently begging him to stay, though the spark comprising his spirit dissipated in my grasp. Truhtein, don’t leave me, I pleaded, staring into his violet-black eyes.

Philipp’s thin lips stretched into the most brilliant smile I had ever seen in my life, and he expended all of his energy in his last words to me. Zehra, you are so strong! His pride washed over me, binding me in unconditional acceptance and love. His final gift to me.

Then his spirit crumbled away, his sentiments dissolving into hollowness. I shut my eyes, clenched my fists, and screamed out my desolation to the fire, to the blood, to the void, to the demon that had stolen my Truhtein from me. The blood-transfer was Wuotan’s ritual, and I would make him pay for this. Somehow. I would make him pay, and then I could seek the heaven Philipp had found.

* * *

Gotta admit . . . Gift of Stone has been ruining me emotionally for the past few weeks. And I'm only at Chapter 6 thus far. Now you've gotten a small taste of where Zehra—Henning's future Lady—is coming from. W.O.W. 😨

So the question is . . . do you want more? As in, RIGHT THIS SECOND?

Do you want to walk beside me while I struggle to do Zehra justice? (I've never written about a human trafficking survivor before, so this is new territory for me.)

🪄 Become A Teutonic Friend 🪄

Last month, I mentioned that I've been toying with the idea of starting a membership program for readers who'd like to support my indie author dream on a monthly basis. I recently started a page on Buy Me A Coffee, a website similar to Patreon, which other indie creators & YouTubers use.

So why did I set up my membership program on Buy Me A Coffee when almost everyone else uses Patreon? Well, I've got a few reasons.

Buy Me A Coffee takes a 5% cut of donations, all across the board. Patreon takes 8% once a creator sets up multiple membership tiers.
Buy Me A Coffee offers the option to pay for a yearly membership, along with the monthly option. Patreon does not offer this.
Buy Me A Coffee offers the option of one-time donations, in case you just want to toss me a quick tip. Patreon does not offer this.

So what's the plan, now that I've got myself a Coffee page? ☕

Right now, I have a $5 monthly membership tier called Teutonic Friends. If you become a Teutonic Friend at only $5 per month—or $50 for an entire year—you will get EXCLUSIVE, EARLY ACCESS to chapters from my works-in-progress in the Teutonic Fantasy Realm. For the next few weeks, that early access amounts to 3 chapters from Gift of Stone every Friday.

Along with that? You'll get your very own eBook copy of Gift of Stone as soon as it's finished, from a personalized BookFunnel link. That means you won't have to buy it. You'll get it, and every eBook novel or novella I release in the future, for as long as you're one of my Teutonic Friends. 📚

Best part? I've posted Chapters 1-3 of Gift of Stone on my public Coffee page for you to read RIGHT NOW. Without paying a cent. Take a look! 🤩

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/clcarhart/gift-stone-chapters-1-3

If you decide you want to become my Teutonic Friend after you read those first three chapters, you'll get Chapters 4-6 this Friday. And Chapters 7-9 on the Friday after that. First dibs for YOU to see my writing in all of its unedited glory!

Are you in???

If you can't make that kind of financial commitment right now, no judgment. You can still pre-order Gift of Stone so you can read all about Zehra & Henning's dramatic romance on February 10th. Right now, pre-orders are live on Amazon & Apple. I'll get them started on the other retailers within a few weeks. 🙂

https://bf.clcarhart.com/keag4pmhtb

Fun Photo

Do you like to drive FAST, or am I the only one? If you've read Gift of Fire, you know Lukas drives like a maniac whenever he's on an Autobahn.

During our summertime Great Western Road Trip, my husband and I came across the sign above. Not quite the 130 kph that Germany offers, but close. Too bad you can't find signs like that one in my neck of the woods—South Carolina. The eastern seaboard of the U.S. is too "densely populated" for real excitement on the highways. But out in Idaho? Now that's a different story!

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