Kit Rocha

science fiction, fantasy & paranormal romance

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New title! Same good sequel energy!

By Kit Rocha Leave a Comment Jun 13

Hey y’all! Just a quick note to let you know that the title of the sequel to Daughter of Tides has gotten a brief update! Instead of Prince of Hearts it will now be known as Prince of Storms which hey, the heart is a stormy place, is it not?

Daughter of Tides Prince of Storms

The book got delayed because of… well, three months of end-of-life care, two cancer scares, and one surprise job loss. 2025 has been coming on pretty hard! But we are hoping to finish writing it by the end of this month, and then we’ll have a release date for y’all! We can’t wait to share the end of Naia, Aleksi, and Einar’s adventure!

Daughter of Tides is here!

By Kit Rocha Leave a Comment May 6

https://www.kitrocha.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/05/Trailer.mp4

Daughter of Tides

We’re so excited that the first book in our new duology launches today! Return to the world of the High Court and join the Lover as he navigates court intrigue, dangerous plots, former enemies…and the wickedly tempting presence of a sweet young water nymph and a deadly pirate lord! Naia & Einar & Aleksi were so much fun to write about, and their story concludes next year in Prince of Storms (yes, the title has changed! I need to update it everywhere else!)

Buy Daughter of Tides now!

Daughter of Tides

Aleksi, the charming and charismatic god of love, is dying. But nothing can stop the Lover from completing his final quest: a dangerous diplomatic visit to a former adversary.

Setting sail for a mystical kingdom of ice, Aleksi is joined by Einar the Kraken, infamous pirate lord, and Naia, a sweet young water nymph. Intoxicated by the pair’s electric connection, Aleksi vows to enjoy his last days by playing matchmaker, pushing away his own desires for the sake of theirs. But he’s unexpectedly caught up in a raging game of seduction.

As the trio navigates turbulent seas and the political perils of the Ice Queen’s court, dark secrets reveal clues to one’s tragic past and another’s epic destiny. Aleksi’s powers spin out of control while love and lust run wild. And when enemies emerge from the shadows, the Lover is forced to make a choice. Will he give away his heart to save all that he holds dear?

Buy Daughter of Tides now!

Queen of Dreams is here

By Kit Rocha Leave a Comment Sep 1

Queen of Dreams is a direct sequel to Consort of Fire, by which I mean it picks up shortly after the end of book one and follows the same protaganists. This also means that THE BLURB FOR BOOK TWO HAS SPOILERS FOR BOOK ONE!!! If you haven’t read CONSORT OF FIRE yet, and you hate being spoiled, go and get book one first! Do not read on!

In fact, here is a trailer to make sure you don’t accidentally see the blurb! If you don’t know anything about CONSORT OF FIRE, watch it!

For the rest of you…

Queen of Dreams

The cover of Queen of Dreams, which has a glowing round globe topping a scepter, on a blue and pink smoky background criss-crossed with silver spider webs and flames around the edges.

Buy the Ebook

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Three lovers with unbridled hope, uncanny dreams, and ancient powers join forces against the greatest evil in the world in a scorching fantasy by the authors of Consort of Fire.

Ash waited three thousand years for a consort who could break the Betrayer’s chains. Instead of one lover, he found two: Sachi and Zanya—the primordial powers that embody creation and destruction, reborn as humans. Now, his ancient enemy has returned to threaten everything he loves.

In the wake of her dazzling manifestation, Zanya seethes with magic and restless energy. Her command of the Endless Void will be a potent weapon in the coming war. To harness it, she’ll need to embrace the darkness within—but the scars of the past are holding her back.

Sachi’s unprecedented connection to the Dream deepens, leading her beyond the veil of reality… and into the heart of the Betrayer’s stronghold. Torn from her lovers, Sachi must use all her wit and cunning to survive the Betrayer’s treacherous court. Because he doesn’t simply want her. He covets the slumbering power she possesses—and plans to take it for his own.

Even if it ends their world.

Read Chapter One

A moon and scattered stars inside a circle

Their mistake had been taking the time necessary to burn the witch.

The smell of charred wood and fabric still blanketed the chill morning air in Emmonsdale. Zanya stood on the platform where the execution had been intended, ignoring the villagers’ occasional nervous whispers and sidelong gazes. Under any other circumstances, she would have been the sole focus of their agitation and unease. But not today.

Today, the man in front of her drew their enraptured attention. As reluctant as she was to admit it, he certainly deserved it.

The Dragon was spectacular when he was in his element.

Ash wore his usual armor, a style ancient before they’d started counting time. Leather and brass had been polished to a shine that couldn’t hide the hard usage over thousands of years and countless battles. The cuirass protected his massive chest but left his shoulders and upper arms bare, where light-brown skin stretched over dangerous muscle. The greaves covered his strong legs from ankles to knees, but the leather strips hanging from his thick belt did little to hide his massive thighs.

Facing down three dozen of the mortal queen’s heavy cavalry in their shiniest steel, he looked barely dressed. He hadn’t even bothered to unsheathe the sword that rode across his back.

Not one soldier seemed willing to charge him.

A weak cough rose behind Zanya. She stole a glance over her shoulder to where the Huntress was cutting the bonds of the accused witch. Elevia’s jaw was tight as she sliced at the rough rope, but she gave no other evidence of what must be considerable rage. The old woman’s smoke-induced cough was the only injury she’d suffered from the attempted execution, but if Zanya and the rest of the High Court had come even a few moments later . . .

But they hadn’t. They’d arrived at the village just as the flames surged toward the old woman’s legs. The fire licking at her heavy woolen skirts died with Ash’s first step into the square. The torches held by her would-be executioners had snuffed out next, the flames sucked away as if the world had inhaled.

By the time they reached the crowded square, the only fire left in Emmonsdale danced in the Dragon’s eyes. The Lord of Fire had not been amused. The weak cough—a reminder of the old woman’s suffering—was unlikely to improve his mood.

As Zanya expected, the noise shattered the silent standoff. Ash stepped forward, the entire weight of his formidable attention on the leader of the queen’s soldiers.

The man’s ornate gilded pauldrons marked him to the world as a guard commander. The stiff set of his shoulders, cruel ice-blue eyes, and familiar condescending sneer identified him to Zanya as Velez, the youngest son of House Sandrake. His noble blood combined with some natural ability had secured him a swift rise through the ranks of the royal guard to a trusted position near the former king’s right hand.

His gleeful sadism had made him one of Zanya’s most dedicated tormentors.

He had courage, Zanya would give him that much. The rest of the soldiers fought to control horses who had picked up on their riders’ fear and wanted to flee. Only Velez sat rock-steady in the saddle and drew his sword, leveling it at Ash.

“You were warned twice already,” he announced, arrogance dripping from every word. “When you murdered our king, you severed any duty we owe to your wicked and corrupt court. These lands are under our protection now. Leave this place, or die.”

Ash didn’t ask him how a handful of mortals expected to expel a dragon god who had roamed this world for over three thousand years. He didn’t point out that it had, in fact, been Zanya who thrust a dragon-hilted blade deep into the king’s chest, ending his life. He didn’t even raise his voice.

The low rumble of his words still made the earth shiver. “When you are burning healers at the stake, your protection leaves much to be desired.”

“We’re not burning healers,” Velez spat. “We’re cleansing this village of heretics.”

Zanya could not see the Dragon’s face, but from the way the soldiers inched back, she imagined flames had appeared in his eyes. His voice was gentle malevolence. “And who do you name heretic?”

“Anyone who speaks out against our gentle queen and calls for treason.”

This produced an uneasy murmur through the crowd. A handful of villagers already sported bruises and shackles—those who had tried to interrupt the burning, Zanya guessed. They knelt by the soldiers, hands bound at their backs. Those who still stood free gripped makeshift weapons—staves and scythes, one or two sizable kitchen knives. The blacksmith held a hammer loosely at her side. Several burly young foresters hoisted the axes they must have been using to chop wood.

The soldiers might have cowed this village before, but the arrival of the Dragon had strengthened their resolve. If his men came for the healer again, the people would fight back.

Velez ignored this obvious fact with true aristocratic hauteur. “Every villager must turn over false idols and any token of the traitorous High Court. The queen commands it.”

Zanya highly doubted the queen had done any such thing. Princess—now Queen—Anikke had celebrated her fifteenth birthday only a few moons prior. Zanya had been there, purportedly nothing more than the handmaid hired to accompany Anikke’s eldest sister when Princess Sachielle was sent to do the family’s duty by becoming the Dragon’s consort.

Anikke had been utterly ignorant of the undercurrents at that awkward family celebration. She hadn’t known that Sachielle was no more related to her by blood than the palace cook was. Or that King Dalvish II had found Sachi as an orphaned toddler and concocted a plan to spare his own blood from the magic that bound the royal family to the High Court when they sent their centennial sacrifice. Anikke had had no idea that the doting father who watched benevolently as his two daughters shared a slice of cake had been torturing Sachi from the moment he’d brought her into his household, doing everything in his power to hone her into a weapon of seduction and deceit.

Into an assassin.

Anikke had been oblivious to all of it, shyly excited from the kind attention of the older sister she looked up to but rarely got to see, and heartbroken when she realized this was the final birthday they would spend together. Sachielle was bound to the High Court, the latest in a string of sacrificial consorts. It should have been the end.

Only Sachi had lived, and King Dalvish II had died. And now Anikke was a child queen, sheltered and ignorant of the true conspiracies entangling her court and her family. It mattered little if her uncles Doven or Bodin, or her aunt Tislaina, were the ones issuing orders on behalf of the grieving queen. Whoever was in charge wanted vengeance for the life Zanya had claimed.

And they’d take it out on their own citizens if the High Court didn’t stop them.

Fortunately for this village, the Dragon alone was more than capable of stopping them. The backing of his fellow gods—the Huntress, the Wolf, and the Lover—was practically overkill. None of them needed Zanya at all. But Ash had asked her to come, as part of her training.

Zanya was a god now, too. Of a sort.

The restless murmuring of the villagers died as Ash took another step forward. He stood with his feet parted, like a wall with the strength of the earth that answered the call of his magic. “There will be no burnings. No confiscations. You will leave this village.”

Velez slashed his sword through the air—a flashy move that was more bluster than skill. “The heretic and the prisoners come with me. Unless you’d like to see how much of sweet little Emmonsdale we can bleed out before you can stop us.”

Was he a fool, or did he truly believe he could stand against a god? Of course, it had been centuries since the Dragon had walked casually among the people. Stories had twisted him into a vicious and rageful monster, a beast with no self-control who devoured the weak and defenseless. Zanya had learned the lie beneath those words over the past weeks—but only the cruelty had been a falsehood. Not his power.

The Dragon could erase Velez with a flick of his fingers.

The disdain in Ash’s tone said as much as he stared at the lord over his flashing sword. He hadn’t even deigned to draw his own yet. “This is your last warning. Turn around and go.”

Velez responded with a sneer. He thrust his sword into the air, and the men behind him drew their weapons in a clatter of steel. Over the sound, Zanya heard the softest sigh drift back . . . Ash, frustrated that he would be forced to violence.

Then one of the soldiers screamed. His horse reared, revealing the knife buried in the soldier’s throat. The soldier next to him whirled his horse and cut down the villager who’d launched the attack.

And chaos exploded as the good folk of Emmonsdale went mad.

If it had been Ash against the soldiers, it would have been no contest. He would have cut through them as if they had no more substance than air. Zanya had seen him do it before—deftly disarming and unseating cavalry soldiers with lazy ease, so precisely in control of the battle that he didn’t even need to kill them. Just a handful of painful bruises, a few broken bones, and the gut-deep reminder that they had no hope when they faced the Dragon.

The civilians complicated everything.

They were angry and desperate, and they had no intention of leaving the soldiers who had threatened their healer with mere bruises. They came at the mounted soldiers with murder in their eyes, and any whisper of remaining discipline collapsed as the knights scattered, each one fighting his own private battle for his life.

A child’s scream of fear rose over the clash of steel. Zanya pivoted, but Aleksi was already there, plucking the child out of danger as Elevia guarded his back. Magic exploded behind Zanya in a prickling wave, and a giant wolf leapt past her, its eyes glowing molten gold.

Ulric, she thought, but had time for no more as his growl rumbled across the square. The Wolf was the god of the forest and all wild things, and the horses of the queen’s soldiers answered his call with terrified obedience. One after another began to rear and buck, doing everything in their power to dislodge their riders. The deft ones managed to fling themselves clear of their saddles. The less fortunate . . .

Zanya turned from the sight of the two foresters descending on a soldier, axes flashing in the warm morning light.

The violence called to her, sweet and chaotic. The clash of steel, the harsh cries. The sound a sword made when it sliced through air. Through armor.

Through flesh.

People fought and died all around her, and a dark part of her reveled in it. No, not a dark part of her—the true part of her. The inner self with which she still grappled, even as the power of it pulsed in her veins.

For centuries, the High Court of Dreamers had been the most powerful entities who walked their lands. Gods in human form, each with power over their own domain. Earth and fire answered to the Dragon. The air and water obeyed the Siren. The Wolf called to the wild places, while the Witch walked those that bordered life and death. Anything the Lover touched grew, fertile and bountiful. And the Huntress never missed a mark, whether she hunted game or knowledge.

Their powers flowed from the Everlasting Dream, a place of pure hope. The heart of creation.

But destruction had a home, too. The Endless Void.

And Zanya was that elemental chaos, born into human flesh.

A handful of weeks wasn’t enough time to come to grips with the truth of something so unfathomable. Guilt still flooded her as she caressed the hilt of her sword, her blood singing with how good it would feel to draw it and strike down her enemies. Not the usual kind of guilt, either—not sickness at the weight of death. At the reality of causing it.

Zanya’s only guilt came from how little guilt she felt when her sword struck true and blood flowed. For her entire life, the world had been brutally, painfully simple: there were enemies, and there was Sachi. To protect Sachi, she would bathe in the blood of those who came against her.

But the world was no longer simple. She had power now, too much to use recklessly, and that was all that stayed her hand now as the violence sang to her. That had been the Dragon’s command to her: to watch. To learn. To not engage, unless she was called upon.

All of those noble intentions crumbled when she saw Velez melting through the shadows.

He’d abandoned his horse and skirted the main battle, leaving his men to their fates. His target was clear—the old woman and the cluster of apprentices still tending to her.

Thought ceased. Instinct took over. Zanya reached for the shadows that had always obeyed her, wrapping herself in their caressing darkness. The power to summon them when she stood in broad daylight was new. So was what she did next, an internal twist that carried her into the Void for a heartbeat. There was no time in the Endless Void. No distance. Every place touched it, and it touched every place.

She didn’t even have to take a step. But she did, bursting from the Void and her protective wreath of shadows directly into Velez’s path.

He recoiled, fear flashing through his eyes before rage replaced it. “Abomination!”

Zanya drew the sword the Huntress had gifted her, and it felt like a feather in her hand as she smiled. “Will you name me heretic, too? Try to burn me?”

“You should be burned,” he spat back. “Purged from this world. You were always unnatural, but now evil surrounds you like a dark halo.”

Yes, that had been the price of claiming the power she’d needed to save Sachi’s life. For twenty-five years, Zanya had known she was other, but for the most part she’d been able to hide it. Now anyone who looked at her could see the truth. Her mind and heart might feel fragile and human, but her body and spirit were anything but.

And her power came from the Void.

“I am what I am.” Zanya advanced. “What I have always been.”

“Foul and corrupt,” Velez snarled. “Just like your traitorous mistress.”

Ice crept through her, far more dangerous than the heat of battle hunger. He could insult her all day if he wished, but if he turned that poisoned tongue toward Sachi . . . “You will not speak of her.”

“Will I not?” he taunted, raising his sword. “The queen is still mourning the betrayal of her beloved sister, you know. But soon enough she will dry her tears and listen to the counsel of her elders. And on that day . . .” Joy lit his face. “Oh, the price on dear Princess Sachielle’s head will be legendary.”

It was all bluster and lies. Sachi was safe at Dragon’s Keep. The castle sat at the top of a mountain, in the middle of a caldera lake. It was so well fortified as to be impenetrable, and entirely self-sufficient besides. As long as Sachi stayed safely within its walls, nothing and no one could hurt her.

But Velez wanted to. The hunger for Sachi’s pain lit those blue eyes, just as it had when he’d done his best to beat Zanya into submission during her endless training sessions. Once, when she’d been just fifteen, her trainers had tossed her into the sparring ring with seven men armed with swords. She’d had only a simple wooden practice knife for defense. The soldiers had been promised one gold piece for every time they drew her blood.

The wealthy heir of House Sandrake hadn’t needed the fifteen gilded coins that had glistened in his palm at the end of the night. Oh no. He’d made her bleed for the pleasure of it.

The same memory shone in his eyes. “I still have my gold coins,” he murmured, swinging his sword in a lazy arc. Testing her. She swatted it away with a clash of steel that only widened his grin. “When I strike Sachielle’s golden head from her pretty little neck, I’ll put the reward next to them.”

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. But the ringing of steel and the low, tormenting sound of his voice twisted through her, dragging her back to that claustrophobic time during her training. Her heart beat faster. Fear tasted like ash on her tongue. When he lunged at her, her body brought her sword up out of pure muscle memory, her block jerky and uneven.

“She always was your weakness, wasn’t she?” Velez taunted, his eyes glinting as he circled, the tip of his blade flicking out in another testing advance she barely managed to block.

Where was the heat of battle she’d just savored? Where was that terrifying darkness that reveled in the kill? Her breath came too fast, and her limbs moved too slowly, as if the chains she’d slept in most nights in the capital still weighed her down. She could feel the cold iron around her wrists.

She’s little more than a feral wolf.

She could hear their laughter. The guards. The cocky young lords. Velez, smug and safe on the other side of the bars that caged her, his handsome face curved in a cruel grin.

The king would do better to put her down.

Zanya bit her lip and tasted blood, bright and metallic. The king couldn’t put her down. She’d driven a blade deep into his heart. She’d knelt in a puddle of his blood and watched the life go out of him. He could never hurt Sachi again.

He could never hurt Zanya again.

She knew that. Somewhere in her mind, she knew the truth. But her body wouldn’t obey, wouldn’t calm. Fear raged through her as Velez swung at her in earnest, his sword coming so close she barely managed to block the blow. His body pressed in, his face staring at hers across their crossed blades, the deadlock as intimate as a kiss.

“I always knew I’d be the one to end you.” In his voice, she heard the echo of every man who had promised her misery and pain from the first time they’d put a weapon into her hand at less than ten years old.

Rotten to the core, every last one of them. Twisted and wrong, willing to hurt Zanya and Sachi if it gained them lands and riches. Willing to hurt them just for the joy of having power over someone helpless and afraid.

Shadows curled up her body. Zanya tasted her own blood on her lips. Remembered Sachi’s blood on her hands, spilled in an attempt to escape the curse these mortal bastards had placed upon her.

They’d come so close to losing everything. So close Zanya still woke every night, sobs of terror trapped in her throat.

“No.” It hurt, like she was speaking through broken glass. Her entire body pounded with the frantic beat of her heart. She remembered being small and wounded and helpless—

But even when she’d been all of those things, she’d always fought back.

“No?” Velez mocked. He broke their stalemate with a surge of muscle, and suddenly a dagger glinted in his hand. A flick of his wrist scored a line of bright pain across her cheek, and his dark laughter curled around her. “How about I send you back to Princess Sachielle in pieces? A fitting gift for a traitor.”

Rage roared up from within, shattering her fear. Shadows enveloped her, and Velez hissed and stumbled back, all playful cruelty swallowed by superstitious hatred. “Witch!”

“Worse,” Zanya whispered.

Then she struck.

Her sword shimmered in the sunlight like black diamonds as she swung it with all her strength. Velez flung his own up to block it, but Zanya’s blade slid through it as sweetly as it would have cut through flesh.

“What—”

The choked word was all she let him have. He was still gaping at his cleaved weapon when she reversed her swing and sliced through his neck. But it wasn’t enough. She could still hear the pounding of that fearful heart—her heart, her childhood heart—and a snarl erupted from her lips as shadows caressed her fingers. She punched into his chest and tore his heart free, crushing it in her fingers as if she could silence the frantic beating inside of her for good.

Time wobbled. The top half of his sword bounced in the dirt with an odd clang. A moment later his head joined it, his face still twisted into an expression of horrified realization.

It took another moment for his body to topple over. In that quiet, stately heartbeat, she realized the rest of the village had gone deathly silent.

Zanya heard the creak of her leather armor as she stepped back. She heard her own harsh exhalation, as well as the sound of Velez’s blood as it dripped off her sword and splattered on the dirt. She forced her fingers open and released the mangled heart, letting it fall next to its heartless former owner.

She couldn’t hear her own pulse anymore. She couldn’t hear anything but the wind and the drip of blood and the unnatural stillness of so many people too aghast to even whisper.

Then gentle, insistent hands closed around her upper arms, digging into her armor and pulling her back. Elevia.

“Come away now, Zanya,” she murmured.

Velez’s empty eyes stared at the sky, his mouth twisted in shock. There was no thrill in seeing him vanquished, just the sick feeling that somehow, even in death, he would still manage to claim this day as his victory. Whenever she played the vile games devised by those at the capital, she always lost. One way or another.

“Come,” Elevia repeated softly. “He belongs to the vultures now.”

Zanya shuddered and turned her back on the nightmare from her past. “He always did.”

Consort of Fire is Here!

By Kit Rocha Leave a Comment Dec 12

It’s here! Our latest book, Consort of Fire, has arrived in a flurry of reviews so positive we’ve honestly been a little dazed! We’re just excited that so many of you are enjoying our story about gods and dreams, two star-crossed murder ladies, and the horny dragon they have to kill and/or fall in love with.

Next up for us on the schedule is Queen of Dreams, which finishes Sachi, Zanya, and Ash’s story! It comes out in August and you can read the blurb or pre-order it here. (WARNING!!! The blurb has HUGE spoilers for Consort of Fire!) And if you don’t have your copy of Consort of Fire yet…

Consort of Fire: An hourglass with blood-red (and sometimes flaming pink) sand sifts through an ominous hourglass. Dragon scales shine in the background.

Buy the Ebook

Buy the Audiobook

Buy in Print

For three thousand years, an ancient dragon god has protected the borders of the Sheltered Lands. In return, he makes only one demand: every one hundred years, the mortal ruler must send their heir to serve as his consort…for as long as they can survive.

Sachielle of House Roquebarre is the thirty-first consort to be sacrificed to the monster who guards the mountain passes. She is young, beautiful—and she has three secrets.

First: she’s a disposable orphan trained in seduction.

Second: her handmaid, Zanya, is an assassin and the only person she has ever loved.

Third—and most dangerous: she’s cursed. Sachi and Zanya have five weeks to murder the Dragon in his bed. If they fail, the mortal king’s curse will steal not just Sachi’s life, but her very soul.

The Dragon has only one secret: he is nothing like what they have been told. And he will do whatever it takes to possess them both.

Preorder Consort of Fire Now

By Kit Rocha Leave a Comment Jun 19

We are so excited to have a new book coming out this November! Consort of Fire is the first book we’ve written in over a decade that is set in a new world. Our hearts and souls needed a break from the dystopian apocalypse, so we imagined a world of powerful magic, where the people who dream and hope hardest become literal gods… and the people who want to keep others small will do anything necessary to slay them.

Book One features a fearsome dragon god, his sunshine consort, and her murderous girlfriend. Oh, yeah… and they were sent to kill him. How will the three of them work out their issues? Read to find out… (And while their story starts in Consort of Fire, it will conclude in Queen of Dreams, available next year! But we promise… there are no abrupt cliffhangers here… and plenty of spice.)

Pre-Order the Ebook Now!

Consort of Fire: An hourglass with blood-red (and sometimes flaming pink) sand sifts through an ominous hourglass. Dragon scales shine in the background.

Fan of Reading in Print?

Preorder your copy from one of our participating bookstores before release day and your book will arrive with a swag pack including an autographed bookplate, a map, stickers, and maybe more!

Once Upon a Time…

For three thousand years, an ancient dragon god has protected the borders of the Sheltered Lands. In return he makes only one demand: every one hundred years, the mortal ruler must send their heir to serve as his consort… for as long as they can survive.

Sachielle of House Roquebarre is the thirty-first consort to be sacrificed to the monster who guards the mountain passes. She is young, beautiful–and she has three secrets.

First: she’s a disposable orphan trained in seduction.

Second: her assassin-trained handmaid, Zanya, is the only person she has ever loved.

Third—and most dangerous: she’s cursed. Sachi and Zanya have five weeks to murder the Dragon in his bed. If they fail, the mortal king’s curse will steal not just Sachi’s life, but her very soul.

The Dragon has only one secret: he is nothing like what they have been told. And he will do whatever it takes to possess them both.

Want a taste of what’s to come? Read an excerpt below…

A sun surrounded by sunbeams inside a black circle.Chapter One
Betrayer’s Moon
Week Five, Day Eight
Year 2999

Sachielle dreamt of fire.

The flames licked at her limbs, undeterred by the spray dashing up over the barge’s bow. Carved wood dug into her palms as she gripped the railing and watched the blaze crawl slowly up her arms, obliterating the thick velvet of her ice-blue sleeves, leaving only crumbling char in its wake.

Such destruction. It tugged at something low in her belly. Plucked at the tight knot of her self-control, teasing. Taunting. This fire could burn her through, hollow her out and blacken her bones.

What would happen if she embraced it?

An attendant stepped closer and brushed surreptitiously at the flowing skirt of Sachi’s gown. Heedless of the roiling sheet of flame that had enveloped the fabric, she blotted at the droplets of river water that had soaked the velvet.

Sachi blinked, and the fire dissipated. Her waking dreams had been growing more vivid, but they’d never seemed this real. Even now, she was shocked to look down at pristine clothing and unmarred skin, without a blister in sight.

The attendant cleared her throat softly, and Sachi stepped back with a tight smile of apology. If they’d been alone on deck, she might have said the words aloud. But it wasn’t appropriate for a noblewoman to apologize to a servant, no matter how necessary or well-deserved it was.

“Oh, blast.” The light, musical curse heralded Naia’s arrival on deck.

Sachielle had met the newborn godling who’d been tasked with ensuring their smooth passage upriver, but they hadn’t really spoken. Unlike the blue- and green-skinned water sprites of legend, Naia looked human—rich brown hair and black eyes, with skin the color of sand at dusk, just a few shades darker than Sachi’s.

Right now, she stood, her fists planted on her hips, staring in consternation at Sachi’s wet dress. “I should have thought of it,” she murmured. “The river can get turbulent this close to the Falls.”

“What?”

“Your dress.” Naia held out her hand. Slowly, silver droplets of water began to pull free of the wet velvet, drawn by her hovering fingers. They danced delicately in the air, joining and separating as they rose.

It was beautiful, and Sachi watched, spellbound, as Naia turned her hand in a beckoning gesture. The water, shimmering in the sunlight, coalesced in her upturned palm. She bent closer, whispering to the rippling ball of water, then blew gently. The drops dispersed, floating over the railing to fall once more into the river.

“Thank you. That was—” Sachi’s voice cracked, and she took a steadying breath. “Lovely.”

Naia dropped into a deep curtsy. “My lady.”

It was a form of address that no god, even a young one, would typically offer a human, regardless of royal lineage. But Sachi was something more than that now: promised to their god king, fated to be his bound bride.

The Dragon’s consort.

She could scarcely acknowledge the reality of it, even in the quiet privacy of her own mind.

Finally, Sachi spoke. “I must thank you for the ease and speed of our journey. A trip like this should have taken two weeks or more, and yet here it’s barely been one. Just eleven days to travel all the way from the capital.”

Naia blushed. “It was the least I could do. A simple matter, really.” Her gaze turned dreamy and soft as she looked out over the water. “I merely . . . asked for help. She’s quite eager to please, you know. This river.”

It shouldn’t have been such a jarring thought, the concept that the river could be a living thing with feelings and intentions. Sachi was, after all, standing next to a living piece of the Dream. But no one spoke this way in the city. Sometimes it seemed as though they’d all moved away from the notion of an interconnected world, one created and ruled by emotion. There were people, and then there was the world around them, a dead world of sticks and grass and water—things that existed only as resources to be exploited.

Naia edged closer. “Are you eager? To meet the Dragon, I mean?”

The previous consort had died after three incredibly well-documented years of fear and misery. The letters he’d written to his parents, begging them to end his marriage and bring him home, sat in the royal archives. And his body, repaired and preserved by magic, still lay in state nearly a century later.

Prince Tislaine, his epitaph read. Duty, honor, and ultimate sacrifice.

The flames surged again, burning Sachi’s palms this time, and she clenched her fists tight to hide them as she waited for the fire to subside. All descendants of the mortal kings possessed a measure of magic. It was their claim, the divine right of royal birth. The reason they, and they alone, were fit to rule the people.

But never like Sachi—never this much, this hot. This close to the surface. The magic of the mortal kings was a whisper compared to Sachi’s, a glowing ember eclipsed by a wildfire. And if anyone on their voyage might notice, it was the lovely Naia—newly born, so fresh from the Dream that its tattoo likely lingered in her mind as an echo rather than a memory.

But the spirit made flesh only smiled. “We’re nearly there.”

The barge cleared the last bend in the river, and a huge waterfall came into view. Water cascaded wildly off the ridge, falling to swirl in a turbulent pool at the base of the cliff. The Midnight Forest grew thickly on either side of the river, the trees’ big branches strong even in the shadow of the mountain.

To Sachi’s right, the broad, solid walls of a castle peeked through the forest. Blade’s Rest, seat of the Huntress. Their river journey would end here. They’d be met by the Dragon’s delegation, feast and rest at the Huntress’s home, then travel on come daybreak.

Sachielle looked up. She caught a glimpse of the spires of Dragon’s Keep, nestled between the snowcapped peaks above.

“Come,” Naia murmured. “They’re waiting.”

A single sharp clap behind them made all the attendants flinch. “Don’t stand around gawking like day-old hatchlings,” a husky, impatient voice snapped. “The princess’s things must be packed and prepared for the journey.”

The young women clustered around her dropped a series of deep, abrupt curtsies punctuated by murmurs of my lady before they scrambled to obey. Zanya watched them go, her arms folded across her chest, looking more like a military commander than chief handmaid.

Sachi held out her arm. “Please accompany us, Zanya.”

Zanya tore her gaze from the attendants and managed to smooth her features. The boat rocked beneath them on gentle waves, but Zanya crossed the deck with effortless grace and silently extended a steadying hand.

The crew had already laid out the gangplank, a wide board hewn from a single piece of wood, painted royal red and gold. Sachi’s toes curled in her slippers as she crossed it as quickly and gracefully as she could in her heavy skirts.

She was immensely jealous of Zanya’s wardrobe, which mostly consisted of shorter split skirts meant to be worn over tight trousers. No one chose to wear four cumbersome layers for the comfort or convenience of it. Even Naia’s robe would be preferable, though Sachi blushed at the thought of being clad in nothing but the sheer, diaphanous fabric.

She breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the solid safety of the dock, though the feeling was short lived as she faced the crowd gathered at the end of it.

There were guards, of course. Merchants, sailors, and people in court attire. Two horses, one with an empty saddle and another carrying a smiling blonde. A huge cloaked man beside her.

No sign of their dragon god. Unless . . .

Sachielle stopped in front of the cloaked man and curtsied. “My lord.”

The hood shadowed his face. She caught a glimpse of a beard and firm lips curving into a slight smile. Then he was bowing to her, a low rumble edged with wildness rattling out of his chest. “Princess.”

When he straightened, his hood fell back, revealing a hard face made of sharp angles, disheveled brown hair—and eyes the color of pure molten gold.

“Don’t be a boor.” The blonde dismounted her horse with enviable grace—no doubt due in part to the fact that she wore trousers as well. “Introduce yourself, and correct the dear lady’s misapprehensions.”

It was odd, how that small smile failed to soften his features even a little. “Ulric,” he offered in that same rumbling voice. “The Wolf.”

Sachi’s cheeks heated. “Of course.”

The woman shook her head with a low laugh, stripped off one glove, and held out her hand. “I’m Elevia.”

The Huntress. Sachi had heard the whispered prayers all her life, seen the sacrifices on pyres in the countryside and offerings on the mountain altars. This wasn’t a woman at all, but the god of the hunt, patron of those who stalked their prey in the forest, stared down the shafts of arrows, and prayed for a good kill.

Sachi wasn’t sure if it was madness or inevitability that led the Wolf to stand at her side. Even in the absence of malice, they were mortal enemies. Their natures would allow nothing else. Then again, without the one, could the other exist?

Perhaps they were only two sides of the same coin.

“Welcome to my home, my lady.” Elevia bowed. “It is a sincere pleasure to celebrate your arrival.”

“Sachielle, of House Roquebarre.” Sachi mirrored her movements. “And the pleasure is mine.”

“I daresay there is enough to go around. And you.” Elevia smiled at Naia, opening her arms. “You must be the new little one Dianthe spoke of. There are too few of you these days. You are welcome, cousin.”

Naia beamed as Elevia folded her into an embrace, and Sachi shifted her weight from one foot to the other and back again as she surreptitiously surveyed the crowd.

A cold knot sank through her middle like a weighted net, only to settle low in her gut.

He wasn’t here.

The Dragon hadn’t come to greet her.

The Wolf’s knowing gaze landed on her. “There was an incursion at the border,” he said quietly. “My brother sent me in his stead.”

Relief and irritation clashed within her. Quickly, Sachi schooled her features into a mask of vaguely expectant cheer. She’d have to be more careful here than she had been in the capital.

“I appreciate your efforts on my behalf.” Sincerity was her best remaining line of defense, and she deployed it ruthlessly. “More than you can ever know.”

“Do you ride, my lady?” Elevia led over the riderless horse, a beautiful blue roan with a mottled gray coat. “Blade’s Rest isn’t far, but you must be exhausted from your journey.”

Zanya had already drifted closer to the horse, her gaze skimming the saddle. As if the Huntress would have to resort to covert tricks if she wanted to remove an enemy. The threats facing Sachi here weren’t physical, but that wouldn’t stop Zanya from expecting treachery.

Apparently satisfied by her examination, she turned and held out a hand. “My lady.”

Zanya helped her into the saddle, then lingered to properly arrange her skirts as Sachi gripped the pommel.

Elevia mounted her horse in one smooth movement and clicked her tongue. The animal responded immediately, turning away from the dock toward the road. “To Blade’s Rest,” she announced.

To my destiny, Sachi corrected silently.

She would meet the Dragon, would smile and blush and bat her eyes at him. They would be bound, and she would live with him, attend his court. Share his bed. And then, when the time came, she would kill him.

Her very life depended on it.

Dance with the Devil is here!

By Kit Rocha Leave a Comment Aug 16

Just your average book about an assassin who can't feel pain and a supersoldier with a heart of gold going undercover as fake lovers to infiltrate and evil tech conference (because they just want to dismantle an evil empire. and also build a library. and also bone.)

Dance with the Devil is here!

Get the Ebook
Kindle, Nook, Kobo, Google, iBooks
Buy in Paperback
The Ripped Bodice, Indiebound, Amazon, Barnes & Noble

Dance With the Devil

Mercenary Librarians, Book Three

Sunshine Supersoldier + Grumpy Assassin = !!!

In the aftermath of a devastating loss, the TechCorps is scrambling to maintain control by ruthlessly limiting access to resources to Atlanta, hoping to quell rebellion. Our band of mercenary librarians have decided that the time for revolution has come.

Maya uses her wealth of secrets to weaken the TechCorps from within. Dani strikes from the shadows, picking off the chain of command one ambush at a time. And Nina is organizing their community—not just to survive, but to fight back. When Maya needs to make contact with a sympathetic insider, Dani and Rafe are the only ones with the skill-set and experience to infiltrate the highest levels of the TechCorps. They’ll go deep undercover in the decadent, luxury-soaked penthouses on the Hill.

Bringing Dani face-to-face with the man who turned her into a killer. And forcing Rafe to decide how far he’ll go to protect both of his families—the one he was born to, and the one he made for himself.

Victory will break the back of Power. Failure will destroy Atlanta.

Help us celebrate release night with Nalini Singh!

Dance with the Devil comes out August 16th!

By Kit Rocha Leave a Comment May 20

Dance with the Devil

 

Sunshine Supersoldier + Grumpy Assassin = !!!

In the aftermath of a devastating loss, the TechCorps is scrambling to maintain control by ruthlessly limiting access to resources to Atlanta, hoping to quell rebellion. Our band of mercenary librarians have decided that the time for revolution has come.

Maya uses her wealth of secrets to weaken the TechCorps from within. Dani strikes from the shadows, picking off the chain of command one ambush at a time. And Nina is organizing their community—not just to survive, but to fight back. When Maya needs to make contact with a sympathetic insider, Dani and Rafe are the only ones with the skill-set and experience to infiltrate the highest levels of the TechCorps. They’ll go deep undercover in the decadent, luxury-soaked penthouses on the Hill.

Bringing Dani face-to-face with the man who turned her into a killer. And forcing Rafe to decide how far he’ll go to protect both of his families—the one he was born to, and the one he made for himself.

Victory will break the back of Power. Failure will destroy Atlanta.

Mercenary Librarians #3 Drops in August!

By Kit Rocha Leave a Comment Jan 1

Book #3 Is Coming!

We’re so excited to announce that we’re finishing up copyedits on Dance with the Devil, and Dani & Rafe’s adventure is just as dangerous and sexy as we hoped–though with a bit of sweet in between all the stabbing.

In the next few months we’ll be announcing our final pre-order campaign, but if you’d like to get a jump start you can pre-order the ebook: Kindle, Nook, Kobo, Google, iBooks

For more preorder options, and to read the blurb, check the main book page.

Answers to a few other questions:

Will there be more Mercenary Librarian books in audio?

Yes! Tantor audio is currently working on book #2 and hopefully book #3 will release a lot closer to the print/ebook release!

Will there be more Mercenary Librarian books?

We don’t know! We have a couple more stories we’d like to tell, but we’ll have to see how the numbers work out and if Tor thinks sales are strong enough to support them. If you want to help make it happen, requesting the books from your local library or preordering book #3 are the best way!

Where is Hunter?!?

On our minds, in our hearts, and tentatively on our to do list for the year–barring any more real life apocalypse hijinks. Please everyone cross your fingers for a peaceful 2022.

I am trying to find the rest of Defending Their Mate!

So are we! Hopefully now that things are calming down a little in our real lives we can pick it back up again.

Are you selling autographed print books anywhere?

Not right now. We haven’t had a lot of time to manage shipping or packing, but we’re looking at partnering with a local bookstore to see if we can arrange to do a mass signing of both our self-published and trad books!

Win a copy of The Devil You Know

By Kit Rocha Leave a Comment Aug 15

The first 400 preorders from a participating store get a necklace handmade by Kit Rocha + fun swag!

 

There are a few weeks left to pre-order The Devil You Know from one of our participating stores & get a bunch of cool swag pictured above! But I’ve got a hardcover copy here in my pretty little hands, and I’m going to sign it and send it to one lucky person along with Maya’s necklace, a ton of fun stickers and art.

All you have to do is leave a comment below and let us know who your favorite Mercenary Librarian character is, and why!

Farewell 2020, You Were A Decade And/Or A Week Of a Year

By Kit Rocha Leave a Comment Dec 13

Pre-Order The Devil You Know Now (out August 2021)

First: The Big Update

We are almost (almost! finally! finally!!!) finished with The Devil You Know, book #2 in the Mercenary Librarians series. You can pre-order the ebook now (Kindle, Kobo, iBookstore, Google) and it will land on August 31st, 2021. We will be doing digital & print pre-order thank you gifts again, including new art, new behind-the-scenes snippets, new exclusive stories and new swag for those of you who pre-order in print from one of our partner bookstores. (Those will be announced in a few months!)

If you want to know what The Devil You Know is about, you can read the blurb here!

What about everything else?

So… 2020. That was a year, huh?

We ended 2019 with Donna’s cancer diagnosis. With the help of our friends and community, she made it through surgery and radiation and recovery… just in time for both of us to (presumably, as our doctors now think, though we never were tested) catch early cases of COVID. That…sucked. Whatever we had, we were sick for months. We slept through April and May. Recovery was Not Great.

We did not get things done. None of the things we wanted to get done, honestly. That sucked, too.

That said, we’re crawling out of 2020 in slightly better shape than we came in. We are not exactly healthy but we’re holding steady, and with the support of our agent and publisher, we’ve come close to finishing the book that was starting to seem Like We Would Never Finish it.

In 2021, we’ll be working on Hunter and and Dance With the Devil, as well as writing some further serial parts for Defending Their Mate, which is currently available only on Radish. We are not putting any firm timelines on anything right now because we want to write good books and for the past few years… good and fast have been mutually exclusive for us.

That said… we’re hoping.

Some of you also may have noticed that we spent most of November working on Romancing the Runoff, which was a transformative and wonderful event where we helped raise almost $500k for voting organizations in Georgia. You can read about that in the New York Times, Pajiba, Jezebel, The Guardian, Vogue, Bustle, Glamour, Book Riot, Newsweek, Slate, and oh yeah Stacey Abrams is now our friend. (Not really, but let us pretend.)

A tweet from stacey Abrams thanking us for our work on Romancing the Runoff and offering us a book to auction off.

For all that 2020 was a year that disappeared in a flash while also lasting a decade, we are going out full of hope and with the conviction to keep fighting to make things better.

We will see you all in 2021. <3 Stay safe, and have a wonderful (masked, socially distant, safe) holiday season!

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The Bisexual Love Army

Recent Posts

  • New title! Same good sequel energy!
  • Daughter of Tides is here!
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  • Preorder Consort of Fire Now
  • Dance with the Devil is here!
  • Dance with the Devil comes out August 16th!
  • Mercenary Librarians #3 Drops in August!
  • Win a copy of The Devil You Know
  • Farewell 2020, You Were A Decade And/Or A Week Of a Year

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