Why Fighting is Sexy with Jeffe Kennedy

Posted August 10, 2015 by Jennifer in Stomp vs Romp 2015 | | 11 Comments

team_stomp

Why Fighting is Sexy

While I’m often on the side of Team Romp, I’m here to champion TEAM STOMP!!!

Why? Because Ursula, my warrior princess and heir to the High Throne of The Twelve Kingdoms is a total badass. Points to support this:

  • She sleeps with her sword, literally.
  • Besides the sword that she’s never without, she always has multiple knives hidden on her person.
  • She has shapeshifter blood, which makes her inhumanly fast and strong.
  • Her spine of steel means she never backs down.
  • Her iron will means she gets the job done.
  • Her soft heart means she always protects her kingdoms and the ones she loves.

So, how’s a guy to court a woman with so many sharp and deadly edges??

VERY carefully.

Enter Harlan—foreign mercenary, Captain of the Vervaldr, and a musclebound mountain of a man. He’s got the brawn to meet Ursula in a fair fight and the infinite patience to wear down her many prickly defenses. For them, their relationship is an ongoing duel, both of wits and of physical exchanges. Which means that, in order to seduce her, he must get inside her guard—one way or another.

Here’s a little glimpse:

 

 

“You’re buzzing like a lightning storm, Ursula—you’ll never sleep when you’re this worked up.”

“You think you know me so well.” Though he had a point.

His laugh rumbled low, his thunder to my lightning. “I’m beginning to, yes. You’re not so difficult to decipher. A bit of study and my strategy seems clear.”

“I’m not some castle for you to besiege.”

“An intriguing metaphor. I’ve scaled your walls—the lower ones—and penetrated the outer courts. Now, how to find my way into the heart of you?”

“If you’re planning to make me talk, you’d have done better to bring the wine.”

“To extend the analogy, a heavy-handed method like a catapult will not work in the close quarters of the inner courtyards. That requires a more delicate approach.” He stopped in a clearing ringed by trees. Unbuckled his sword belt and set it aside.

I cleared my throat of the rattling nervousness. The overwhelming tide of desire I’d felt earlier had receded, leaving sharp rocks behind. This was delicate? “Harlan, I, ah—”

He stopped me with an annoyed look. “I don’t plan to throw you to the ground and have my way with you, Ursula. Give me some credit. And take off your sword.”

“Why?”

“We’re going to spar.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “You must be the most single-minded man under Danu’s gaze.”

“Yes.” In two strides, he had his hands on my hips, unbuckling my sword belt. “I’ll have your respect, Your Highness. If only as a fighter.”

Unbalanced, I braced myself on his muscled shoulders. “I respect you.”

“Not enough.” He pulled the daggers from the sheaths, tossed them carelessly aside, and ran his hands up my waist, down over my hips, then settled, flexing. “Not the way you need to. What other blades do you wear?”

Taken aback by his ferocity, my heart accelerated. The way I needed to? “Will you strip me of all my weapons?” My voice came out throaty.

“Not possible. You need not tell me, then. It shall be my pleasure to search you.”

Firmly, thoroughly, he ran his hands over my hips and down each leg, removing the short blade I strapped to my left thigh and the set of throwing knives at my right ankle. Bemused, I let him draw off one boot, then the other, so I stood barefoot on the dew-damp grass. Away from the lamplight, the stars above glittered diamond sharp, a dazzling array of light and color as bright as moonlight, such as I’d never seen, lending to the unreality of the moment.

Working his way back up, he loosened my shirt and smoothed hot fingers over the skin of my back, then over the material down my arms, finding the second set of throwing knives at my left wrist and discarding them. Back to my shoulders, he slid calloused fingers of one hand behind my neck and set the other in the hollow of my throat, holding my gaze and pausing there for a long moment while my breath accelerated. Preparing for the match to come, I told myself.

The thrill, though, of his finger slowly trailing downward over my breastbone had nothing to do with fighting.

“Anything else?” His pale eyes glinted in the starlight.

“No.” I could barely speak for the tightness of my lungs as he caressed the skin at the opening of my shirt, down between my breasts. They weren’t something I thought about much, except to bind them, to keep my sword arm free. But now they ached, tight and full Ppart of me wanted his big, rough hands on them, but somewhere inside I tensed, afraid of that very thing.

He seemed to read that in me, because he stopped, the hand at the back of my neck kneading the tendons there with that magical deftness. Then he stepped back, handing me a blunt-edged practice dagger. “Ready?”

I was. He called it correctly—the tension and emotion of the day begged to be burned off.

I’d spent enough time assessing his reach to situate myself well outside it. I picked my spot, level ground without loose rocks or limbs, and moved my weight into the balls of my feet. The restlessness and worry settled into keen anticipation. Weighing the light bronze in my hand, I found its balance and planned my strategy. “What are the rules?”

“You take me down, you win. I take you down, I win.” He pulled off his shirt and kicked off his boots, then flexed, muscular chest rippling as he settled into a ready stance.

“And the forfeit?”

He grinned, sending a bolt of answering desire through me. “I think we both know that.”

He launched himself at me.

I spun, easily dodging the expected move. Men nearly always tried to grab, and I’d paid attention to how he wrestled. I hadn’t expected him to spend any time waiting for my blade to find him. His best bet lay in grappling me, and mine would be slicing him before he could get there. I evaded him, moving out and away, but—faster than I’d anticipated—he turned his momentum, rolled and grabbed me by the ankle, taking me down. He’d been watching me, too, to know where I’d plant that weighted foot.

Changing my fall into a dive, I reversed and neatly twisted out of his grip, arcing over to come up behind him. I’d done it fast enough to get the blade up near his throat, but he’d anticipated me in turn, rolling so his meaty shoulder deflected the blade, then continuing to surge to his feet, dodging the undercut I’d thought to bring under his guard and dancing back with surprising grace.

“So fast, my hawk,” he said in admiring tones. “Come a bit closer.”

I laughed, blood humming. “Not a chance, rabbit.”

“You don’t know the hares of Dasnaria.”

He leapt. How a man that size could spring so far, I’d no time to contemplate. Inside my perimeter in an unexpected flash, he seized me, pinning my dagger arm to my side in an unbreakable bear hug, taking me down and rolling so my head spun. He’d miscalculated—or been too soft on me—by taking the brunt on his shoulder and flattening onto his back instead of crushing me beneath him.

It gave me enough room—barely—to get the blade between his heavy thighs to press the flat against his man jewels. Not a killing strike, but one few men could fight through. Feeling it, he stilled.

I allowed myself the moment of triumph and smiled at him. “I win.”

“Do you?”

Before he finished the words, he’d broken the grip, clamped his hand over my wrist, flipping me and simultaneously pinning the knife hand over my head, crushing me as he should have to begin with. I didn’t bother to fight it. With an opponent of his strength and bulk, I’d truly lost the moment he managed to pin me.

“If I’d had my sword, you’d never have gotten close enough,” I panted. Oddly out of breath, given how quickly the match had ended.

“Had you used the dagger as you meant to, I’d have been in no condition to trap you like this,” he conceded. “As it is, I believe you’ve lost and are now my prisoner.”

“Do you plan to interrogate me?”

“No.” He stared into my eyes for an endless moment. “I plan to enjoy the spoils of war.”

 

See what I mean??

TEAM STOP FOR THE WIN!!!

 

The Talon of the Hawk by Jeffe Kennedy
The Twelve Kingdoms #3
Published by Kensington on May 26, 2015
Amazon | B&NGoodreads

A HEAVY CROWN

Three daughters were born to High King Uorsin, in place of the son he wanted. The youngest, lovely and sweet. The middle, pretty and subtle, with an air of magic. And the eldest, the Heir. A girl grudgingly honed to leadership, not beauty, to bear the sword and honor of the king.

Ursula’s loyalty is as ingrained as her straight warrior’s spine. She protects the peace of the Twelve Kingdoms with sweat and blood, her sisters from threats far and near. And she protects her father to prove her worth. But she never imagined her loyalty would become an open question on palace grounds. That her father would receive her with a foreign witch at one side and a hireling captain at the other—that soldiers would look on her as a woman, not as a warrior. She also never expected to decide the destiny of her sisters, of her people, of the Twelve Kingdoms and the Thirteenth. Not with her father still on the throne and war in the air. But the choice is before her. And the Heir must lead…

OPEN TO US/CAN
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Head over to Parajunkee to check-out Team Romp

 

About Jeffe Kennedy

Jeffe Kennedy is an award-winning author whose works include non-fiction, poetry, short fiction, and novels. She has been a Ucross Foundation Fellow, received the Wyoming Arts Council Fellowship for Poetry, and was awarded a Frank Nelson Doubleday Memorial Award. Her essays have appeared in many publications, including Redbook.

Her most recent works include a number of fiction series: the fantasy romance novels of A Covenant of Thorns; the contemporary BDSM novellas of the Facets of Passion, and an erotic contemporary serial novel, Master of the Opera. A fourth series, the fantasy trilogy The Twelve Kingdoms, hit the shelves starting in May 2014 and book 1, The Mark of the Tala, received a starred Library Journal review and has been nominated for the RT Book of the Year while the sequel, The Tears of the Rose, has been nominated for best fantasy romance of the year. A fifth series, the highly anticipated erotic romance trilogy, Falling Under, released starting with Going Under, followed by Under His Touch and Under Contract.

She lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico, with two Maine coon cats, plentiful free-range lizards and a very handsome Doctor of Oriental Medicine.

Jennifer
Find Me

Jennifer

Owner/Blogger at The Book Nympho
I coexist with my husband of 15 years, our 11-year-old son and two chilled cats in the Deep South.

After 17 years I've finally finished my BA in English (no I do not want to be a teacher). Before majoring in English I would not have touched anything labeled "classic", but I have enjoyed a few along the way in my college career.

While I hated to read growing up, I am now an avid book reader and audiobook listener. I love rejecting reality one book at a time. I only read fiction within my favorite (at least to date) genres which include: most romance (paranormal, contemporary, D/s, BDSM, M/M)Urban Fantasy, and a few YA (mostly PNR or UF from favorite adult authors, but I'm slowly stepping out of my comfort zone after enjoying a few contemporary YA novels in adolescent literature class I took).
Jennifer
Find Me

Latest posts by Jennifer (see all)


11 responses to “Why Fighting is Sexy with Jeffe Kennedy