As some of you now know I have decided to
self-publish a couple of books. This isn’t something that I took too quickly,
in fact it’s something I’ve agonized over for a while now.
As you all know I once wrote as Honor James. I was with
another publisher and wrote a series called Knights of Ares. I loved these men
and when I left the publisher I thought that I would lose them forever. I
couldn’t do that however, but part of me needed a fresh start as well.
So….
All six books of the Knights of Ares series have been
re-written (I only saved the names of the men because they were so close to my
heart) and I’m going to self-publish the series. I hadn’t intended on this
series coming out yet – however I guess I uploaded it far too soon to the
retailers and boom, here it is!
So, without further ado here is the first book of the
series.
The
Knights of Ares are a joint Navy SEAL and Army Ranger team that has been tasked
with a new war. One that needs to be kept from being discovered, at all costs.
Mikhail “Wolf” Rossov and Gareth “Gunner”
Gruffyd are part of the team that are fighting a war no one knows is happening.
Out on the job, they end up saving a woman who turns out to be more than they
could have believed.
Morgan Berry is a kindergarten teacher. The
most dangerous part of her job is a wide spread flu epidemic in her class.
Being a teacher is all she’s ever wanted, she never thought she’d soon be part
of something bigger.
Kidnapped to become a pawn in a dangerous,
violent game, Morgan has only one hope. For her men to come to her rescue,
before it’s too late. She knows that they would walk through the fires of hell
for her. But will they make it in time?
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Read an Excerpt
Location: Classified…
It was good to be
back on American soil. While he thought of himself as more Russian than
American, America had been his home for all his life and would always be home.
Stepping out of
the steam from the bathroom, he finished toweling off as he padded into the
locker room. Nodding to his teammates who were scattered around in various
states of undress, he grabbed up a pair of jeans and pulled them on.
Three weeks since
their mission to extract the CIA operative from Greece without anyone, official
or not, the wiser. While it hadn’t been smooth, they’d gotten in and out
without alerting anyone that they’d ever been there. Bad guys notwithstanding
of course.
Buttoning up his
fly, Mik crammed his feet into a pair of boots. Grabbing his shirt, he hauled
it on before dropping to sit on the bench to do up his boots.
They’d been in
various meetings and sessions to debrief since they’d gotten out of Greece with
the operative. All they knew about her was her code name for the op, Sugar. Not
exactly fitting given the venom she’d directed their way the entire flight out
of the country and then back to the
States. But then again, she hadn’t looked all that happy before they’d met her
so, really, who was he to judge.
What her mission
had been in the country he couldn’t say.
But since they were, currently, on friendly terms with Greece, who the fuck
knew. Especially when it came to the spooks. Those guys just loved to root
around in the darkest of corners looking for enemies and, if they couldn’t find
one, making new ones.
Getting to his feet, he stomped them a little to settle the
boots in place. Just as he grabbed his leather jacket, the door into the locker
room crashed open and four MP’s came in.
“Sorry, sirs. The
Admiral has requested your presence, immediately.”
Shooting his team
mates a look Mik knew it wasn’t an actual “request.”
No one, an Admiral especially, needed four heavily armed MP’s to pass on a
“request”. No, it was an order that if not obeyed, he would bet the MPs had
very specific and detailed instructions
about what to do.
Shrugging into
his jacket, he leaned against his locker
as his cohorts got dressed. Not a one of them in any apparent rush. While the
MPs had said immediately, and he was sure the Admiral had meant yesterday, they
weren’t really going to just give in. That wasn’t how a one of them was made.
He watched his fellow team members as they all seemed to gravitate into their
duos, as usual. He wasn’t surprised when Gareth shot him a small crooked grin.
The men weren’t couples, but they all worked together very well and at least
where he and Gareth were concerned, shared women more often than not.
Rubbing a hand
over his mouth, he hid his smirk as James
“Fury” Ashton asked one of their team, Anton “Viper” Lueger, which shirt went
with his eyes better. Always pushing the envelope
that one. Catching the look on the MP’s faces and the way they were fiddling
with their sidearms, he cleared his throat. Catching everyone’s attention he
gave them a couple of signals out of sight of the MPs.
It got everyone
moving faster. If a bunch of highly trained military cops were that twitchy, something big was going
down. No need to provoke them more than absolutely necessary.
Leaving the
locker room as a unit, they all shared a look. No one had a clue what was going
on and not a one liked it. Especially since they’d all just been told they had
three weeks leave. Which, in their minds, meant they got to leave, no questions
asked. Not good.
*
* * * *
Twenty minutes
later Mikhail could not believe how fucking right he’d been. “Excuse me, sir. I
mean zero disrespect, sir, but are you off your fucking rocker?” he asked.
His teammates all
nodded. Yeah, every single one of them had been thinking it. He was just the
craziest of the bunch to actually say it out loud. But it was part of his rep,
and he so did love to live up to his rep.
“I wish,” the old
man said. He rubbed a hand over his military regulation cut and looked at them
all.
Mik couldn’t
believe how old the Admiral looked right then. Sharing a worried look with
Marius, he shook his head. “Sir, this is crazy. I might buy that Marius might
believe in the Greek Gods, growing up as he had, but coming from you,” he shook
his head again. “I’m sorry sir, but I’m not buying it.”
“You’d better,” a
new voice said. One that was deep, bowels
of hell deep, and sent a shiver down every man’s spine.
Spinning Mikhail
stared up, yeah up, at seven and a half feet of solid muscle covered in
leather. Holy shit, where the fuck had
this guy come from?
“Olympus by way
of Athens,” the large male said. He turned his blacker than night eyes to the
Admiral. “Andrew, sorry I’m late. Had a small family matter to attend to.”
“No apologies
needed, come on in and grab a seat. I think I’ll let you tell them the rest of
this, as they don’t seem to be taking me seriously.”
The large man
chuckled and, not kidding, Mikhail could have sworn the room actually pitched
and rolled like the deck of a battleship on high seas.
“They are trained
to believe what they can see, hear and touch, Andrew. Of course, they are not going to just take you at your word,” the
male said. He walked around them all, he was light on his feet too, and took the seat that the Admiral had
offered.
Shooting Marius a
look, he saw the same WTF expression he was sure was on his face. The guy was
on a first name basis with the Admiral and seemed to be buying into the same
delusion, too. This would be interesting to hear.
“It’s not a
delusion, Mikhail,” the guy said. “The Greek Gods are real, all of us.”
“So, we’re to
believe you’re one?” Meirion “Saber” Jamison asked.
“Yes,” the male
told them.
“Right,” Thomas
“Brick” Gordon drawled out in his Southern manner. “Which one, just so we keep
it all straight and shit?” he asked.
The Admiral
looked like he was either going to shit himself or be sick. Not a look one
expected of a career military man who’d
been through more wars than most could lay claim to. And all on the front lines
for the most part.
“Ares,” the male
said.
“God of War,”
Stefan “Orion” Patras said softly. “Son of Zeus and Hera.”
“Bingo,” the big
male said. “Got it in one. Which, considering your heritage, I’d be truly
miffed if you hadn’t.”
Shooting his
Greek teammate a look, Mik shook his head. “Okay, I have a question, if we’re
all going to play along with this delusion.”
“It’s no delusion
and yes, the Gods are real.” Ares, or whoever the fuck he was, got up from his
chair. He pushed it out of the way and settled with his feet spread so they
were right under his shoulders.
A flash of light
and they were staring at the guy in full battle regalia. As in, ancient armor
with one hell of a big ass sword in hand, tip to the floor. Oddly enough, the
guy even seemed bigger.
And he was
walking straight toward Mik.
Standing his ground Mikhail notched his chin up to keep eye
contact with the guy. Which was a lot harder than he’d thought now that they
guys eyes were silver swirling pools, much like a whirlpool, trying to suck him
in.
“Military men are
always the hardest to convince,” the God, or whoever he was, said. Then he
smiled, perfectly straight white teeth no less, and lifted a hand. “Let’s see
if I can’t convince you, shall we?”
Mik would have
protested, but he wasn’t quick enough. The Gods'
hand landed on his shoulder and suddenly he was being torn apart and then
rebuilt molecule by molecule. He saw the beginning of the world, Zeus’s
creation of man, the “birth” of the other Gods and times in history that even
scientists and the best historians could only make educated guesses on. He saw
battlefields where the God before him was in the thick, covered in blood and
other bodily gore.
He watched as
cities burned, crumbling into dust, and civilizations fell. He watched the
march of the Roman empire across Europe and their eventual retreat. Cities
rose, fell, changed, grew and then technology began to come into sight. Then
they were back in the room, in the present and he was staring up into a pair of
swirling silver eyes.
The hand on his
shoulder squeezed before falling away. “Believe now?” the deep voice asked
softly.
Stumbling back
Mikhail groped for a chair and fell into one when it was close enough.
Shivering he couldn’t tear his eyes off the guy. “What the fuck?” he asked.
Ares just nodded.
“Good. Now we’re getting somewhere.” Another flash and he was back in his leather striding back to the
head of the table to sit down once more. “Gentlemen, sit,” he told the rest of
the team. “We have a lot to discuss and very little time.”
He could feel the
worried eyes of his teammates on him, but he couldn’t say anything. His mind
was still fighting to resolve all he’d just witnessed and make sense of it. And
he was failing miserably.
