Hello, all! This week's #TeaserTuesday brings us an excerpt from the extended version of The Soldati Prince, the first book in the Soldati Hearts series. It's currently in edits and is due for release in November. Enjoy!
“Are you listening?” Khalon growled.
Riley rolled his head toward Khalon to deliver what his manager Clara once informed him was the most spectacular “fuck off and die” look she’d ever come across. Riley couldn’t help it. He’d been dragged out of bed at an unholy hour—ass-crack-of-dawn early—and after being awake long enough to remember where the hell he was, the servants brushed his teeth for him, got him dressed, tried to comb his hair—which was followed by him making grunting noises at them because it was too damn early for that—and the next thing he knew, he was in a dining hall, flopping down into a chair next to this asshole, and oh my God, was the guy still talking? Dude, stop. Just stop.
Khalon narrowed his eyes. “Did you hear any of what I just said?”
“Nope.” Riley grinned as Khalon’s nostrils flared. There was a good chance the guy was about to punch him in the face, but it would be worth it to see Khalon lose his shit. Let’s try this again. “Coffee.”
“Coffee.” At some point Khalon would learn. Then again….
“Nope.” Riley sighed. “Coffee.”
Khalon slammed a fist on the table, making the tableware rattle. “Stop saying that!”
“Sure. When I get my…. Wait for it….”
Khalon gave him an impressive “don’t you dare” look.
Oh, I dare.
Riley could practically see the steam coming out of Khalon’s ears. Seriously. All he wanted was some coffee. Was that too much to ask?
The ginormous elegantly decorated banquet hall came equipped with a table long enough to seat an army, and yet there was only the five of them having breakfast. The spread was incredible. They had eggs prepared every way imaginable. Scrambled, poached, over easy, over hard, fried, turned into omelets, quiches, frittatas, along with potatoes cooked up in all different ways, various types of bread, baskets of fruit, platters of meats, various fruit juices, but not one freaking cup of coffee. What kind of heathens was he dealing with?
Across the table from him, Rayner let out a snicker before quickly putting a fist to his mouth and coughing. Most likely as a response to Khalon’s indignant glare. Khalon sat at the head of the table in a throne-like chair that would have made any fantasy geek wet his pants. Riley kept wanting to touch the ornate tiger-claw armrest, but he had no desire to lose a limb. Khalon turned his attention back to Riley and leaned toward him with a menacing snarl. Riley leaned away slowly.
“Now you listen here. While you’re in my kingdom, you will do as I command.”
Riley opened his mouth when Adira jumped out of her chair and slammed her hands down on the table. “For the love of our ancestors, Khalon, get him some bloody coffee before I stab you all with my butter knife!”
Wow. Okay. Riley stared at Adira along with the rest of them. She resumed her seat, snatched a croissant off a platter, and began to tear into it like she was disemboweling an enemy. Note to self, do not piss off Xena.