Highlander – Alpha Incarnate

Highlander – Alpha Incarnate

© 2012 by Kat Bastion

 

Those of you who’ve been following my adventure know that I’ve just finished my manuscript. This weekend, while doing my final read through, I’ve had the incredible pleasure of falling in love with my Highland and Pict warriors all over again.

As I described in an earlier post, The Lure of the Great Alpha Male, I have a love for a powerful primal man who is brought to his knees by love. He’s an impenetrable force of nature, yet no matter how hard he fights it or denies it, he is felled by one woman. In my opinion, the romance of such a story is unrivalled.

Great Alpha Males take many forms. Sylvain Reynard’s Gabriel’s Inferno has the tortured, sinful academic, Gabriel. {shivers} Karen Marie Moning’s Fever Series has the primal Barrons. {sighs} I could go on… and on…

There is one place and time on earth, however, where Great Alpha Males were born and bred. Unique among great warriors across the globe and through time, geography, circumstance, and lore shaped them.

The quintessential Great Alpha Male?

The Highlander.

The landscape had a great hand in shaping the warriors forged in the Highlands of Scotland. Unforgiving. Rugged. Harsh. Cold.

Agendas of other warfaring nations played a role. Centuries of Viking and English invasions bred strong warriors to defend home and land.

Men that lived hard? Played hard.

And, those kind of men? … Loved hard.

Nothing instigates my imagination more than envisioning a man who dedicated his life training and fighting to protect those he loves, until one true love takes him by surprise, and…

Knocks him down with a feather.

Destroys him with a whisper.

But first, the beast needs to be tamed. And don’t you want to be the one who breaks him?

Wouldn’t you love to be dropped into medieval Scotland, a damsel in distress, but feisty as hell at having been dumped there in the first place? (No coffee, internet, or movies, of course.)

In a dress with bindings too tight around your ribs and a neckline too low for modesty, you stand in the center of a castle’s Great Hall downing a goblet of ale, trying to make sense of why you’re there. Women eye you with barely restrained hostility. At that moment, the feeling is mutual.

The heavy oak door creaks open on iron hinges. A dozen men enter, arguing over a clan dispute. Their footfalls echo into the room. Massive chests and bared arms glisten in the firelight. For some inexplicable reason, one stands out from the others.

The air crackles with electricity like a charge before the storm. Power emanates from him.

A pulse of heat spears through you, catching you by surprise. You gasp.

His dark gaze locks onto you.

No one needs to tell you he’s master there. You feel it.

Did he just growl?

Your heartbeat accelerates.

He stalks forward.

Hungry eyes paralyze you.

You swallow hard.

A slow smile tells you he’s going to devour you whole, and it has nothing to do with food.

The cup falls from your hand.

Lightning reflexes catch it.

Your eyes close as you inhale the scent of earth and woods.

He is hunter.

You are prey.

Hot breath caresses your neck.

You sigh as heat travels down, warming more intimate places.

Fragments of thoughts fall out of your head…

Where has he been? What makes him tick? Who has his heart? Why has he locked onto you?

Wouldn’t you like to know?

{smiles slowly}

I know of a girl from California who found herself lost in the past. Stay tuned as I tease you all incessantly until I can tell you all about it… {smirks} 

For a tiny excerpt, please see my website Contest Excerpt and see what has the judges raving.  Here are some of the Awards & Comments.

Meanwhile, share your favorite Highlander in a movie or a book.

Me? I fell in love with Brodick in Julie Garwood’s Ransom. {sighs}

 

Your Favorite Shoe,

Kat

© 2012 by Kat Bastion

Sweet Saturdays…October by Robert Frost

talktotheshoe:

I love your love for fall, Tamie. I love fall, too! {AutumnalHugs} ~ Kat Bastion

Originally posted on Bookish Temptations:

Sweet Saturdays

Well peeps…it’s the first official day of my vacation…Yay me…and the first weekend in October as well. I’ve been taking a fall holiday for years now because it’s one of my favorite times of the year. The weather is cooler…which I love, the mountains where I live go from fluffy green to fiery reds, and oranges. To celebrate both my holiday and October I have a poem by one of my favorites…Robert Frost, and a few photos as well.

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Morgan Locklear Wordslinger…Shutting Up Now…

talktotheshoe:

Excellent post, Morgan. As always, I love your writing advice. Thank you for sharing it with us.
~ Kat Bastion

Originally posted on Bookish Temptations:

October has long been my favorite month of the year.  I like how quickly the world around us changes in just a few weeks.  Mother nature knows when to say when, and she makes a good show of sending our summers into the history books.

This Wordslinger will take a cue from the Fall leaves and focus on endings.  I shall call it…

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Trees Of Jasmine

Trees of Jasmine

© 2012 by Kat Bastion

 

Young lovers walking hand in hand,

Teased and laughed along cobblestone track.

They walked among trees of jasmine,

And spoke of a place called Tamarack.

Church mice happy to have a crumb,

Feasted at balls like faraway kings,

But at their cozy home and hearth,

The two alone cherished finer things.

Escape to a path few had tread,

Brought flowers by a rushing stream.

Curving trail… you lead, I follow.

In your loving arms is where I dream.

 

© 2012 by Kat Bastion

Death Is Never More Beautiful

talktotheshoe:

Such beautiful words for an amazing time of year. Lovely poem, Mit. I can’t wait to see more from you.

Originally posted on Miracles Unleashed:

Death Is Never More Beautiful

 

© 2012 by Mit Maras

 

In unwavering reverence,

We watch as she dances,

Hues of autumn adorn her ever reaching branches.

 

With a natural pluck,

Each canvas spirals down,

Until nothing but death now blankets the ground.

 

For so long we have sought,

The solitude of her darkest places,

Forced from shadows we now bare our own faces.

 

Death has now befallen her.

Yet, death … has not beaten her.

 

She stretches exposed arms,

Void of those she held dear,

Rooted against all threatening new life next year.

 

Standing bare and vulnerable,

Her loss is witnessed by all,

Heaven’s perfect example of our choice to stand tall.

 

Held captive in a place

Where heartache and darkness rule,

She towers the world,

All proof … death is never more beautiful.

 

© 2012 by Mit Maras

 

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