About the Book:
Title: TWO THOUSAND YEARS
Author: M. Dalto
Pub.
Date: December
11, 2018
Publisher: Parliament House Publishing
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 310
Two thousand years ago, the Prophecy of
Fire and Light foretold the coming of the Queen Empress who would lead the
Empire into a time of peace and tranquility. But instead of the coming of a
prosperous world, a forbidden love for the Empress waged a war that ravaged the
land, creating a chasm between the factions, raising the death toll of innocent
lives until the final, bloody battle.
Centuries later, Alexandra, a twenty-two-year-old barista living in Boston, is
taken to an unfamiliar realm of mystery and magic where her life is threatened
by Reylor, its banished Lord Steward. She crosses paths with Treyan, the
arrogant and seductive Crown Prince of the Empire, and together they discover
how their lives, and their love, are so intricately intertwined by a Prophecy
set in motion so many years ago.
Alex, now the predestined Queen Empress Alexstrayna, whose arrival was foretold
by the Annals of the Empire, controls the fate of her new home as war rages
between the Crown Prince and Lord Steward. Either choice could tear her world
apart as she attempts to keep the Empire's torrid history from repeating
itself. In a realm where betrayal and revenge will be as crucial to her
survival as love and honor, Alex must discover whether it is her choice - or
her fate - that determines how she survives the Empire's rising conflicts.
*********************
Excerpt:
1
The
streets were quiet for a Friday night in the city. Alexandra Ross clenched her
collar tighter around her neck as the wind began to pick up, unseasonably cool
for so early in Boston’s September. Her heels clicked along the damp
cobblestones of the old sidewalks as she headed towards her apartment. She had
to take extra care while walking in her four-inch heels.
Especially
when she knew she was being followed.
The
city had been her home for three years now, so the late-night trek home
remained familiar, almost a comfort. In the now twenty-two years of her life,
maintaining her independence was as much of a priority as the switchblade in
her jacket pocket was a security. There was a part of her that truly enjoyed
the peaceful solitude these walks could bring, but she wasn’t stupid enough to
do it without protection.
She
was aware he remained a short distance behind her ever since she left Faneuil
Hall.
This
evening was no different, except that she was celebrating her twenty-second
birthday, which also may have involved too much alcohol. Perhaps it was the
intoxicated appreciation of her city within the quiet of the early morning
hours that distracted her from her surroundings.
Even
the reflections in the familiar storefront windows she passed by reminded her
of the fact she that wasn’t alone.
Either
way, her attention was focused anywhere but where it belonged. It wasn’t until
her heel caught in the sidewalk, and a hand grabbed her arm to keep her
upright, that she realized she tripped and started to fall.
And
that the one she believed to be a stalker turned out to actually be a rescuer.
His
grip remained firm as his other arm wrapped around her waist to steady her on
her feet. As she composed herself, trying to clear her head, her hand went
towards the knife in her pocket while she glanced towards the individual who
just saved her from needing a nose job.
The
stranger’s hair was dark under the streetlights, side swept and held loosely in
a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He was dressed casually: wearing a dark,
button-down shirt over clean denim jeans and sensible dress shoes as if he,
too, had just emerged from the bustling social atmosphere that brought so many
to Boston’s Faneuil Hall Marketplace.
His
features were thin with chiseled cheekbones beneath skin too tanned to be
local, but then she looked into his eyes. They were the most piercing blue she
had ever seen—almost too blue, especially without the sunlight’s shining
assistance. They radiated with their own luminescence; which was odd at first,
but the color was as though they were refractions off of the ocean’s waves. As
she continued to stare, the more familiar they seemed. Looking up and into his
eyes felt as if she had stared into those eyes before—been lost within them too
many times to count.
The
feeling was almost nostalgic, though she was certain she’d never met him
before. She would have remembered those eyes, regardless of how many
cosmopolitans she may have drank.
By
the time she realized she was staring, he had already released her from his
grasp.
“I—”
She blinked, struggling for words as her grip tightened around her knife.
“A
simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.” His words purred with a foreign accent—familiar,
but she couldn’t place it. Irish? Scottish? Perhaps Welsh, she thought to
herself, though she wasn’t even certain if it was European at all.
“Oh,”
she spoke, clearing her throat. “Thank you.” She moved to smooth out the short,
black dress she wore, awkwardly running her hands over her legs, her
ass—anything she could do to avoid his gaze. “I didn’t even hear you behind
me.”
"I
know.” He smirked. Again, that sense of nostalgia clenched at her chest, her
stomach, lower. Before she could inquire further, or at least find out where he
came from, he had already moved past her, continuing on his way down the
street.
“Happy
birthday, Alex.” He waved back to her without another glance.
How
did he know?
“Hey,
wait!” she called after him, her voice laced with panic, but he disappeared out
of sight as quickly as he arrived.
Deciding
she had had enough excitement for one birthday, Alex slowly, and far more
cautiously, finished her walk home. Occasionally, she would chance a glance
behind her to ensure she wasn’t followed again. He was just some creep who must
have been too close for comfort while they were drinking the bar, she convinced
herself as she turned the corner onto the street that led to her apartment. Or
merely a lonely someone who overheard her saying her goodbyes to her friends on
the way out and thought he’d get lucky.
She
came to the gate that barred the walkway leading to her apartment, the skin on
her neck prickled and the hairs on her arms stood on end. Something was off.
The familiarity of home felt wrong, like a lost memory, just within reach
moments ago, now nowhere to be found. Her hand had been stuffed into her jacket
pocket ever since her encounter with the dark-haired stranger, and she
continued to grip the knife tightly as she opened the gate and she headed down
the final stretch.
Her
apartment was situated in one of the older colonial row houses within Boston’s
North End that later converted into apartments and condominiums as the years
went on and the economy grew. She rented out the bottom floor of the building,
with her ground-level entrance beneath the building’s main stairway barred
behind a wrought-iron gate. Taking another look around her surroundings, she
approached her door as her other hand managed to find her keys, but nearly
dropped them as she stopped to survey the scene before her.
The
light from a nearby street lamp shone on the damage that had been done. The
gate was bent in a fashion that looked as though a gorilla took a bar in each
hand and spread them apart. Through the warped iron, she could see the lock to
her apartment had been destroyed, the surrounding door blown apart with it,
shattered beyond easy repair.
“Fuck,”
she whispered, taking a step back to as she glanced to see if there was anyone
around, but not a soul was in sight. With a shaking hand, she reached for her
phone. Did she call the police on the off-chance her father’s colleagues would
report back to him and have to hear another lecture from her about the horrors
of living in the city? Or hell, ensure the potential of seeing any of them the
next morning while she was at work, having them remind her of her
over-exaggerations while she served them their overpriced coffee?
No.
No, she did not. So, she rang her best friend instead.
“Hello?”
Crystal answered on the third ring.
“Crystal!”
Alex whispered harshly into her phone. “Someone’s broken into my apartment!”
“So,
call the police,” Crystal reminded her lazily, her tone muddled by the
evening’s inebriation.
“You
know I can’t do that,” she snapped. “Besides, what if they’re already gone? It
would be a waste of time and effort.”
“And
your pride?”
“That
too.”
“What
if they’re not?” Crystal queried. “Your father will be pissed, and your
mother—”
“You
are no help; do you know that?”
“You’re
the one calling me, thinking someone broke into her house!”
Before
Alex could continue to interrogate her friend, the slightest sound of movement
from the other side of the door caught her attention, and her knife was out of
her pocket and at the ready, her heart pounding.
“Crystal,
I’ve got to go,” she murmured into the phone.
“What?
Wait—” Alex hung up before Crystal could finish her sentence.
Reaching
the warped gate, she slowly pushed open the ruined door that led into her
apartment. She listened again, waiting for a repeat of movement, and quietly
stepped through and into the mudroom once she decided it was safe to do so.
Everything was dark and quiet, just as she left it, which gave her even more
cause for concern. Whoever was there, whether they remained or not, they
weren’t there with robbery as their intention…not that she had much to steal,
anyway, beyond an expansive collection of epic fantasy books and Harlequin
romance novels.
Liquid
courage—that was stupidity. At least that’s what she convinced herself as she
tiptoed through the kitchen, her ears still perked when she heard a subtle
creak of a floorboard and she tightened her grip on the knife. Peeking around
the corner, she noticed a dull light emitted from her living room, appearing as
though a flame flickered in the darkness.
Except
Alex’s fireplace was only decoration and never once actually contained a fire.
Despite
the nauseating curiosity that gripped her and tightened her stomach into knots,
she approached the living room, lingering just outside the entryway. The
flickering light made it difficult to adjust her eyes to the darkness, but she
was certain she could hear bits and pieces of a conversation within an unknown
language between two individuals whose voices she didn’t recognize.
Holding
her breath, Alex glanced into the living room. Crouched before the fireplace
was a figure in black with its back turned to her. Male in appearance, he was
too focused on an orb floating before him to notice her. The swirling red
flames neither burned nor emanated heat as they hovered over the ground, and
her attention was caught upon their pulsating beat as it communicated with her
apartment’s intruder, like the blood flowing through her veins.
And
the foreign language, unfamiliar to her in every possible manner, resounded
through her like a jolt—as though a part of her memory had been previously
locked away, and hearing it again was the key. No different to her mind than
English, she could understand every word they were saying as if it was her
native tongue.
“You
are certain you’ve secured the perimeter?”
“Yes,
my Lord,” the figure spoke into the flame-less conflagration. “There’s been no
sign of the Empress. She will be none the wiser that the Key is in place.”
“You
best hope so, for where she will be, the Prince will follow. The Empress must
be in my possession before he can make his next move.”
“Of
course, my Lord, but what shall I do in the meantime?”
“Be
patient. Be vigilant. And so help me, when the Empress returns, do not allow
her to leave that apartment.”
“And
the Key?”
“You
will wait until it activates within the next moon cycle. Until then, remember
that she will be your only way home. Do you understand me?”
The
figure bowed his head. “Understood, my Lord. And should the Prince interfere?”
Alex
could almost feel the simmer through whatever allowed such a floating object to
exist, and a shiver trickled down her spin as she watched the dark figure
finally stand and turn in her direction.
Red
eyes glowed in the darkness, like dying embers fighting to remain lit. Being
distracted by the earlier conversation, she hadn’t noticed how far she stepped
into the room. Whatever courage she may have had before entering her apartment
dissipated as those red eyed focused on her. She tried to take a step back, but
hit the wall, jarring her elbow in the process and hissing of pain at the
impact.
“Well,
it appears my job just became a hell of a lot easier,” he slurred in English,
though drawling with an accent both foreign and familiar.
Not
unlike her would-be stalker-savior’s.
“Sorry
to interrupt,” she announced as she pushed off from her spot against the wall,
remembering the knife in her hand and willing her fingers to steady themselves
as she pointed it at the head of the intruder. “But I think it’s time you
removed yourself from my apartment.”
“The
Empress?” The voice from the flames sounded pleased, and the orb’s size and
power intensified as it emitted an almost demonic chuckle.
At
the words of whatever master presided on the other side of that communication
device, the intruder rose to his full height as he turned around to face her
fully. The amplified light from the orb finally displayed his features. Other
than his eyes, there was nothing extraordinary about him. Pale in the pulsating
red light, with a shock of black hair and thin lips. He wore unremarkable
clothing—a black shirt over black pants that could have come from anywhere—but
still it was his eyes that held her attention, creating an otherworldly
presence about him.
He
paused his approach, however, when he saw the knife, cocking his head to the
side as though in silent challenge. Instinctively, she sliced it through the
air in his general direction, and the unexpected action seemed to surprise him
as much as it had her. Taking a reflexive step back, his legs hit a side table
next to her couch, knocking a lamp to the floor.
The
orb ceased its laugher at the commotion.
“It’s
a pleasure, Empress Alexstrayna," the voice said while the intruder
continued his retreat, falling into the fireplace as if the orb would give him
protection or a quick escape out of the room.
Alex
rolled her eyes at the intruder’s pathetic attempts to escape through a brick
wall, though her attention was caught at the greeting from the orb. It wasn’t
her name, but it was close, and she didn’t want to know how or why. Before she
could inquire, the voice behind the floating ball of flame seemed to realize he
was losing his local support, and the fire erupted once again. “Where the hell
do you think you’re going? The Prince is following her. Find him before he
finds you first! Do not let the Empress out of your sight!”
The
flaming orb allowed his threat to linger as its flames continued to rant and
rave, all while the intruder composed himself and again began to approach her.
The orb’s light now reflected off of claw-like talons extending from each
finger on both hands of the intruder, and his teeth grew into a predator’s
fangs. Every bit of his deadly intention was focused solely on her.
Alex
felt the sweat form on her brow as her heart beat with a terrified fury. Even
as she held the knife up to defend herself, it shook between her fingers. The
intruder merely gave her a knowing smirk before he reared back on his legs and
leaped into the air with feline grace, lunging across the room with his claws
extended, aiming directly for her over-exposed chest.
Frozen
in the spot where she stood, Alex’s eyes were wide as she watched death
approach. She remained where she was even as a sudden bolt of cold, blue flame
shot over her shoulder, knocking the attacker hard against the wall next to the
fireplace. The plaster splintered on impact, causing the intruder to crumple to
the floor, unmoving once he hit the ground.
Alex
thought her heart was going to pound through her ribcage; she made herself take
one deep breath, and then another before she looked over her shoulder toward
the direction of the flash. In the lingering blue glow stood the stranger who
helped her in the street. Those same cold flames appeared to grow from his
right hand as he was poised in a battle-ready position, preparing for another
strike as his attention focused deeper within the room.
Following
his glance, she saw that the intruder remained still and motionless, remnants
of the blast that sent him there the only movement coming from his body. She
wanted to say something—perhaps she should thank him? Too many questions began
to cross her mind as she shifted towards him, needing to know more, that same
pull of nostalgia almost drawing her in. No sooner had she opened her mouth
than did the red orb cease its ranting to greet the new arrival.
“I
was wondering when you were going to show your face, Treyan. Unfortunately,
you’re too late. My Key is in place, and come the next moon cycle, the Empress
will rightfully be mine.”
“Sorry
to disappoint you, Reylor, but my Key has been in place for years.” Treyan
walked forward, outstretched his right hand where again blue flames sprung from
it, this time engulfing the red orb. Not a moment later, it was extinguished.
Without delay, he turned towards her and began to approach her. “I am sorry
about all of this, Alex—”
“You!”
She raised her knife between them, the point hitting his chest before he could
move another inch. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
Sighing,
he brought his hand to the blade, his blue flames warming the metal to the
point of nearly burning Alex’s hand, forcing her to drop the knife. She moved
to run, but he grabbed hold of her forearm and he pulled her face to him.
Alex
caught herself getting lost in his blue eyes again and he watched her with an
enthusiasm that was unwarranted given their sudden meeting. It was a feeling of
intense warmth throughout her body, akin to the comfort of a lover’s embrace. A
feeling she had met him before but knew their paths had never crossed before in
her life. And yet, some part of her knew him, or knew of him, and that
terrified her.
Who
are you?
Unfortunately,
the question never left her. Before she could break his intense stare and begin
to protest further, he brought a hand to her face, gently cupping her cheek,
and after a few murmured words, Alex’s world fell to darkness.
********************
About M.:
M. Dalto is a Young
Adult / New Adult fiction writer of adventurous romantic fantasy stories, and
her debut, TWO THOUSAND YEARS, won one of Wattpad.com’s coveted Watty Awards in
2016. She continues to volunteer her time as a Wattpad Ambassador, where she
engages and hopes to inspire new writers, and also mentors authors through the
#WriteMentor program.
As a mentor, MB is on
the lookout for YA and NA novels heavy in plot with the ability to make her
fall in love with its characters. Her favorite tropes include love triangles of
all kinds, enemies to lovers, dream sequences, and prophecies. She always wants
villains you can’t help but be attracted to, redemption arcs or otherwise. She
loves novels with deep character development, a setting where she can get lost,
and plot twists that make her want to throw the book across the room. Give her
main characters you love to hate, but can’t help but hate to love.
She spends her days as
a full-time residential real estate paralegal, using her evenings to hone her
craft. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading fantasy novels, playing video
games, and drinking coffee. She currently lives in Massachusetts with her
husband, their daughter, and their corgi named Loki.
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