Shared Whispers is an anthology of short stories from an international group of fifteen authors who are published by Champagne. Whether romance, suspense, mystery, thrillers, paranormal, fantasy, or science fiction stories, romance is the common theme.
My contribution was “Nimue’s Daughter,” a contemporary Arthurian apocalypse tale. I enjoyed researching the old stories, then creating my own Arthurian tale in this century. The picture on the right is a representation of the story which involves Stonehenge and the Wild Hunt (Some really uncool paranormal folks from the ancient tales who you definitely don’t want to meet on a dark night). I’m sharing an excerpt in which Nimue & Myrddin (Merlin), who has just been called by the priestesses from his long sleep, meet for the first time (this century).
Nimue ran out the door as the car stopped. “Mother, where have you been? I was so worried. There are disturbances all over the country. I can’t believe you left without telling any …”
Her breath caught at her first sight of the man. He didn’t meet her standard of male pulchritude but he was so attractive that she was compelled to stare. Wavy black hair worn a bit too long, ice-blue eyes that hinted he knew everything about her at a glance, and an endearing, crooked smile. Perhaps she needed to change her standard of male pulchritude.
He appeared a bit thin and perhaps a little confused. She knew all of her mother’s friends and he was not among them. A stranger, then, that Mother had brought home in this dangerous time.
“Mother, Aunt. I’m glad you arrived home without incident.” She hugged each in turn.
Aunt Rhiann, her adopted second mother who was occasionally risqué, gave her an extra squeeze and whispered, “Look at him, Nimue, ain’t he a fine one.”
The man had moved closer and still hadn’t taken his eyes off of her.
“Who is our guest, Aunt Rhiann, and why is he here?”
The question seemed to put off Aunt Rhiann. When she hesitated and looked toward Mother for rescue, the man held out his hand. Nimue grasped it and wished she hadn’t. Attraction vied with lust. She tried to pull away. He held tight, then branded her hand with a sizzling kiss. She wanted to scrub her hands clean, to deny what had passed between them.
“Good day, Nimue. I am pleased to see you. I am Myrddin, late of Avalon. I am here to battle the Armageddon.”
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