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Thea Guanzon Books

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“You were burning up earlier,” he whispered. “I reached out to you, and for a moment you were like the dragon. Nothing but flame against my skin.” She saw the fear then, fear that he had tried to hide before—not for himself, but for her. She reached out and touched his shoulder, and he melted, as though she really were fire, sinking his head toward her hand. “I’m all right. Because of you.” Talasyn dragged her fingers down the muscled cords of Alaric’s bare arm. “As soon as you touched me, it drew out the fever. It felt …” Like someone stopping her fall. Like the end of a long journey home.”

FearAlaricTalasyn
Book:A Monsoon Rising
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“I just wanted to say—” Alaric broke off. What did he want to say? Talasyn blinked up at him. “Yes?” I am sorry for everything. I liked writing to you. I won’t let my father hurt you. I know we agreed that it’s simply physical attraction between us, but sometimes—sometimes I think— Ever since we met, I have lived in a dream of what could be. But he could never tell her any of this.”

LoveHeartacheYearningAlaricTalasyn
Book:A Monsoon Rising
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“What happened?” she demanded, vehemence leaching into her tone. These weren’t battle wounds. “Who did this to you?” Alaric turned his head to the side, avoiding her gaze, his lips clamped shut. “Tell me.” Talasyn put her hand against his cheek, urging his eyes back to hers. “Or I’ll go to your guards and ask them instead.” "Don't." “It was my father,” he said hoarsely. Every word sounded ripped from his throat. “In punishment for my shortcomings—” He shuddered with a fresh spasm of pain, eyelids twitching as he closed them, long lashes fluttering against the tops of wan cheeks. “A lesson.” Talasyn had known, of course, that Gaheris was cruel, but it had never before occurred to her that this cruelty would extend to his son. This is how he keeps him chained. It had been ingrained in him to not fight back.”

HeartacheAlaricTalasynUnfair Treatment
Book:A Monsoon Rising
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“Alaric’s large fingers clamped around her wrist, dragging her back down. “No one else can see.” She hesitated, unconvinced and worried sick. He added, his tone uneven and his grip on her tightening, “Don’t, Talasyn.” His thumb brushed across the inside of her wrist in fretful strokes, and her free hand moved as though of its own accord, wrapping around his, squeezing in reassurance as she asked, "Do you have any bandages, then? I can-" "Leave it," Alaric told her through clenched teeth. "I'll take care of myself." “You’re in no condition—” “I can manage—” "No, you can’t!” He gave a start at her raised tone, his powerful body twitching as though it longed to curl in on itself in a protective ball. Thoroughly chastened, she cradled his cheek, the walls that she had so carefully built around herself in his presence crashing down. “Alaric,” she pleaded, “let me help you.” “You shouldn’t even be here.” Despite his rough, strained words, he leaned into her touch with a quiet desperation that made up her mind for her. “I am, anyway,” she retorted. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

HeartacheSupportiveAlaricTalasyn
Book:A Monsoon Rising
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“Alaric grabbed her elbow, despair surging from him in waves, and pulled her to him. She let out an indignant squeak as she found herself sprawled on top of his bare chest, her nose inches from his. She held still, careful not to disturb the bandages, and his hand darted from her elbow to her lower back, exposed by the cut of her blue dress, his warm fingers trailing static charges along the base of her spine. She hadn’t realized that she was so sensitive there. “Don’t go,” he murmured hoarsely, fitfully, a man caught in a fever-dream. “I won’t bring up the rebels again. I won’t breathe another word. Just—don’t leave me, Tala.” The name he had first called her on their wedding night sent a mess of starlit recollections swirling through her at the same time that it caught in his throat, along with what he said next. “Please.” Talasyn stared into the hollow desolation in Alaric’s gray eyes, the utter defeat. She knew this loneliness. She understood it in the marrow of her bones. “I was going to clean up, that’s all,” she whispered. “I’m not leaving. It’s just—the bucket and—” “Forget the bucket,” he told her, a hint of his usual imperiousness breaking through the valerian fog. “Stay here.” “All right.” Not her wittiest moment, but it was difficult to think when she was pressed up against his solid body, his hand on the small of her back. “I’ll stay.” He looked like he didn’t believe her, and it pierced her heart.”

SadHeartacheAlaricTalasyn
Book:A Monsoon Rising
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“Talasyn suddenly wanted nothing more than to assure Alaric of her presence. She sank fully against his form, holding him down with her weight, burying her face in the side of his neck in a chaste imitation of what he had done to her once, in another bed. “I’m here,” she vowed into his smooth, overheated skin. “I’m not going anywhere.” A sound between a groan and a hitch of breath caught in his throat. The hand on the small of her back rubbed compulsively, tracing the notches of her spine, and his arm tightened around her. His other hand tangled in her hair. “I couldn’t kill that rebel.” It was a choked, bewildered rumble in her ear. “One word from you and I let my guard down. I couldn’t kill you, either, all those times before … What am I, if I’m not a weapon? What have you done to me?”

HeartacheSupportiveAlaricTalasyn
Book:A Monsoon Rising
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“You’re not just a weapon,” she mumbled into his neck. “You have a sweet tooth and sometimes you make me laugh. I tell you things that I’ve never told anyone else.” The very air seemed to spin golden with each surge of memory, aether humming between their forms. “You helped me with my magic. You tackled me out of the way of that void bolt. Today you made sure I could run and fight. All of these things—they’re not what a weapon is, or does. You’re so much more than a weapon. You could be more.” She meant every word.”

HeartacheAlaricTalasyn
Book:A Monsoon Rising
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“Did—were you—” Alaric faltered, each word laboriously plucked out from his stupor. “Did you think that I … would strike you?” Talasyn remained silent a beat too long. Long enough for him to confirm that her answer, though unspoken, was yes. “I wouldn’t—” He hit the floor on his knees and shuffled toward her. She straightened up with the intention of nudging him to do so as well, but he flung his arms around her waist. “Tala, I would never”—he buried his face in her midsection—“never when we’re not sparring,” he said fiercely. “Never when I’m drunk, never in our room—” “I know.” She carded her fingers through his soft hair, in a tentative attempt to soothe him.”

HeartacheAlaricTalasynTalaDrunk Alaric
Book:A Monsoon Rising
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“First of all,” he said through gritted teeth, “I don’t know how to react to you. You are infuriating and self-righteous and you get under my skin. Secondly, there have never been any other women—there was never anyone before you—and much to my dismay you have provoked me so much that you’ve wormed your way into my dreams. You are the only one who plagues them. And one last thing”—his voice lowered into a growl—“the next time I kiss you, I want to remember it.” Raindrops dotted his cheek as he bent down. Lightning streaked the sky as he pulled her to him. The Eversea’s dark waves slammed against the shore as he crushed his lips to hers.”

KissConfessionAlaricTalasyn
Book:A Monsoon Rising
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“Alaric felt Talasyn take a shaky gasp of breath against him, and he hunched further down, further into her, stirred by an instinctive protectiveness that was all he had to give for now. He was rattled by how close she’d come to getting killed—by her former countrymen, no less. He could barely comprehend that she had saved his life, that she had killed a former comrade in order to do so.”

ProtectiveAlaricTalasyn
Book:A Monsoon Rising
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“Alaric’s lips gave a reluctant twitch. “What you did,” he repeated, overcome by the sense of vague affection that he only ever felt around her, “that was more than anyone else ever …” She bit her lip, her features crumpling with a pained sorrow that went far too deep for what she knew of his situation. Then she placed her hand over his, where it lay on the strips of woven rattan between them. He was struck dumb by the gentleness of the gesture, by how each touch of her slim fingers burned right through the leather of his gauntlets.”

SupportiveAlaricTalasyn
Book:A Monsoon Rising
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“He chucked her under the chin. The way he had at the Belian shrine. Everything about this moment carried echoes of before, painted in a new light. “I thought Queen Urduja might have told you what to write,” he admitted. “I assumed you told her about—about what my father—” “I didn’t,” she said quickly. Talasyn tried to step back. Tried to step away from Alaric and this jumble of emotions, this labyrinth. But she found herself frozen in place as relief softened his features, taking away the years. The corner of his mouth, mere inches from hers, lifted in what was almost a smile. “Write to me again, Tala.” There was a teasing lilt to his tone. “I’ll write back. I promise. We’ll endure your awkwardness together.” Her spark of annoyance was eclipsed by how close he was, close enough to kiss. And maybe she should kiss him, to erase some of that smugness …”

TensionHugAlaricTalasynTala
Book:A Monsoon Rising
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“Talasyn was burning up. Had it really been just thirty minutes? It had felt much longer. Her throat was parched and every inch of her body was on fire. Heatstroke, she thought groggily. Like the relentless summers on the Great Steppe. Too much light, too much warmth. She took a step toward the waterline with some hazy thought of drowning herself in the Eversea. She would do anything for even a moment’s relief, but the treacherous sand shifted under her feet and she couldn’t correct, she was falling— And Alaric was catching her. Strong arms wrapped around her, hauling her up against a broad, hard frame. The relief was instantaneous everywhere his skin touched hers, her fevered brow to the hollow of his throat, his bare hands on her shoulder and the small of her back. It spread, this cooling, the roar of light receding. And Alaric was shaking, too. No, he was shivering. His teeth were chattering and he was ice-cold. Talasyn burrowed deeper against his chest, tightening her own grip on him, no thought left to her but to offer him some measure of comfort. Her left hand slipped underneath the hem of his shirt, palm flat on the heaving muscles of his abdomen. His tremors abated and his breathing evened out at the same time as hers.”

AlaricTalasyn
Book:A Monsoon Rising
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“Hot. She felt too hot, too consumed by thoughts of Alaric Ossinast, her nerve endings scraped raw by the ghosts of touch. She closed her eyes in an attempt to meditate, to calm and center herself, but the darkness only brought him into sharper relief. She could almost smell him, all sandalwood and juniper and smoke. She could almost hear his harsh, ragged pants in her ear. As though he were there with her.”

YearningArousalTalasyn
Book:A Monsoon Rising
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