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LAST KISS OF THE CLAN DANCER
In this mystical world, a sinister leader has taken over and
threatens to destroy all that is beautiful, colorful and wild. Lars, a
captain in The Leader's army, rediscovers what it means to be free
when he comes across his lost love during a city wide raid. Rajiid,
the woman from his youth, turns up in a tenement house and he is
forced by duty to turn her over to The Leader and her inevitable
execution.
This is a tale of redemption and regret. Find out if Lars can gather
the courage to claim his destiny, or if his destiny will claim him.
In this mystical world, a sinister leader has taken over and
threatens to destroy all that is beautiful, colorful and wild. Lars, a
captain in The Leader's army, rediscovers what it means to be free
when he comes across his lost love during a city wide raid. Rajiid,
the woman from his youth, turns up in a tenement house and he is
forced by duty to turn her over to The Leader and her inevitable
execution.
This is a tale of redemption and regret. Find out if Lars can gather
the courage to claim his destiny, or if his destiny will claim him.
| Fantasy Romance |
| LAST KISS OF THE CLAN DANCER is available at: Lulu.com PDF Format Only |
EXCERPT:
-Twelfth Year of Our Beloved Leader
Lars ran his fingers through his unruly, auburn hair and gripped the leather bound hilt of his weapon with his
free hand. The sword made him feel connected to a world long gone. It was the only possession he brought
with him when the guards destroyed his home and killed his family years before.
An old memory surfaced as he pressed his shoulder against the door of the tenement house to listen for
rebels. He closed his brown eyes for an instant, the better to see the face of his mother. He was thankful she
smiled the last time he had seen her alive, for it was that memory that gave him strength when he did the
things he hated. Silence answered in its cold voice, no sound within the home to be wary of. He opened his
eyes and set his jaw.
I’m a captain, he reminded himself. He reached for the handle on the door, turned it, and sucked in a dry
breath. A captain of death and oppression, of hatred and lies. After The Leader’s army crushed the rebellion
in the highlands, they’d stolen the young men, the boys just past puberty. He cringed, remembering the day he’
d been taken and made into one of “Them”. Lars had become what he once loathed in his youth.
The door opened with a small squeak. Lars paused to take in the familiar scent of freshly baked bread, clean
linens and the perfume of the lily-of-the-valley bouquet that sat atop each and every tenement dweller’s door-
side table. The vase of white, bell-shaped flowers rested next to the iconic lithograph of The Leader.
This raid should be like all the others, he mused. His mind melded the task of rounding up rebels during The
Leader’s sermons into one long, tedious nightmare. Suddenly, a different scent wafted toward him,
something old, nearly forgotten and secret. He shrugged it off, blaming the feel of darkness that had settled
on his soul that day.
-Twelfth Year of Our Beloved Leader
Lars ran his fingers through his unruly, auburn hair and gripped the leather bound hilt of his weapon with his
free hand. The sword made him feel connected to a world long gone. It was the only possession he brought
with him when the guards destroyed his home and killed his family years before.
An old memory surfaced as he pressed his shoulder against the door of the tenement house to listen for
rebels. He closed his brown eyes for an instant, the better to see the face of his mother. He was thankful she
smiled the last time he had seen her alive, for it was that memory that gave him strength when he did the
things he hated. Silence answered in its cold voice, no sound within the home to be wary of. He opened his
eyes and set his jaw.
I’m a captain, he reminded himself. He reached for the handle on the door, turned it, and sucked in a dry
breath. A captain of death and oppression, of hatred and lies. After The Leader’s army crushed the rebellion
in the highlands, they’d stolen the young men, the boys just past puberty. He cringed, remembering the day he’
d been taken and made into one of “Them”. Lars had become what he once loathed in his youth.
The door opened with a small squeak. Lars paused to take in the familiar scent of freshly baked bread, clean
linens and the perfume of the lily-of-the-valley bouquet that sat atop each and every tenement dweller’s door-
side table. The vase of white, bell-shaped flowers rested next to the iconic lithograph of The Leader.
This raid should be like all the others, he mused. His mind melded the task of rounding up rebels during The
Leader’s sermons into one long, tedious nightmare. Suddenly, a different scent wafted toward him,
something old, nearly forgotten and secret. He shrugged it off, blaming the feel of darkness that had settled
on his soul that day.
| "...This is a sad tale, a reflection on many parts of the world. But it's also a hopeful tale as Rajiid shows what one person can do to change her world. This isn't for the faint of heart but it is an excellent read." -Dee Dailey Awarded 5 Hearts The Romance Studio |
| "...I think the best word that would descibe Anastasia Rabiyah's e-book Last Kiss of the Clan Dancer is Enchanting. A love lost in time has been renewed..." -Crystal Crystal's Book Reviews |