Hello, Sunshines, I have the huge pleasure to be today’s stop on this wonderful blog tour for; A Flame Through Eternity by Anna Belfrage. Not only will I be sharing this intriguing book, but I also have an exclusive excerpt for you all. Plus there is a chance for you to win a copy, I hope you love it as much as I do.
A Flame Through Eternity by Anna Belfrage
Publication Date: December 2, 2019
Publisher: Timelight Press
Series: The Wanderer, Book Three
Genre: Historical Fiction
It started 3,000 years ago. It ends now. Who survives the final confrontation?
According to Helle Madsen, being the protagonist of a time-spanning epic love story has some things going for it, primarily Jason Morris. Because seriously, meeting up with your fated lover after 3 000 years apart is not bad—at all. Unfortunately, where Jason goes, there goes Sam Woolf, yet another very, very ancient acquaintance—with the fundamental difference that Sam is not into Happily Ever After. He’s into destruction, more specifically of Jason and Helle.
Helle may believe in second-chance love, but she sure doesn’t believe in reincarnation. Okay, she didn’t believe in stuff like that until she met Jason Morris a year or so ago. By now, she has accepted that sometimes impossible things are quite, quite possible—like an ancient princess being reborn as an ambitious financial analyst.
Finding Jason was like finding the part of her that had always been missing—a perfect match. But handling Sam Woolf, the reborn version of their ancient nemesis is something of a trial. No sooner do you have him well and surely beat, but up he bounces again. Sheesh, will it take an oak stake to permanently rid their lives of him?
Sam Woolf is a powerful adversary. Too powerful, even. Jason and Helle will need help from unexpected quarters to finally bring this tangled, ancient love-and-hate triangle to some sort of conclusion. Question is, will they survive the experience?
Much later, Jason was watching Helle sleep. She’d fallen asleep with her head pillowed on his chest, his thumb in a firm grip, but now she was on her side, facing him. Her lips were slightly parted, a tumble of blonde hair obscuring part of her face. Jason moved closer, listening to her breathing. Closer still, and he placed his lips on hers.
“Jason?” she mumbled, stirring slightly. One eye opened, her mouth softened into a smile, and she groped for his hand, sighing when she found his thumb.
Jason used his free hand to brush her hair off her face. His fingers lingered on the contour of her face, traced the elegance of her ear. Almost a year since he’d found her again, a year of miraculous moments such as these when she was lying beside him. His Helle… Jason ran a finger down her bare arm. For so many years, she’d been nothing but an impossible dream, a fading image he had no choice but to try and find again. Truth be told, there’d been times when he no longer wanted to try, exhausted by endless lives, by repeated disappointments. But the love for her burned too strong, and so he’d died, been reborn, searched and searched for her, died…
He nuzzled her, inhaling her scent, and she squirmed and frowned, too deeply asleep to rouse. She smelled of sun, of rose petals littering the ground, of lime and lavender. Her skin was soft beneath his cheek, and when she rolled over on her back he followed, carefully resting his head on her breast, just above her heart. Helle muttered something, her arms came round him, and he relaxed against her, listening to the reassuring thudding of her pulse.
A year ago, he had almost given up on her. Then he’d found her, and all those futile miserable lives were vindicated by her smile, by the way her turquoise eyes glittered when she saw him. Now here they were, married and happy. Jason pressed his ear closer to her chest. Happy for now, he amended, because if Sam Woolf was back…Shit!
Once he’d allowed Woolf entry, there was no banishing him from his head. Jason extricated himself from Helle’s arms and rolled over on his back, pillowing his head on his arms. Moonlight spilled in from the uncovered windows, dancing across the ceiling in a swaying pattern of leaves and light. But what Jason saw was Woolf—Prince Samion of Kolchis as he’d been—his hands streaked with blood, one sandal-shod foot planted firmly on Jason’s chest. Moonlight caught on a raised blade. Woolf yelled in triumph and brought it down. Jason sighed and rolled out of bed. He needed a drink.
In that ancient life, Samion had killed Helle, not Jason. It had been Helle’s chest he’d sunk his blade into, it had been Helle’s blood staining Samion’s robes and hands. It had been Helle who died, while Jason was left incapable of any emotions but that of all-consuming anger.
The whisky splashed into the tumbler and Jason retreated to sit on the sofa where so recently he’d made love to Helle. He sipped, a rush of comforting heat travelled down his throat. This time, Woolf had no intention of killing Helle. No, if Sam Woolf was back, it was Jason he’d come after, and should he succeed, Helle would be dragged off to God alone knew what hellish existence.
That, Jason decided, could not be allowed to happen. He snapped his fingers and sparks of fire flew upwards. Again, and several miniature flames burnt merrily before he closed his hand around them, extinguishing them. If he had to, he’d incinerate Woolf. Or die trying.
Helle felt guilty as hell giving Tim the slip. But when she’d called John and he’d suggested they meet—he was in London for the day—she hadn’t stopped to think, she’d just grabbed her coat and made for the door, stuffing her phone into her pocket as she went. Stapleton had promised help and unless she got some, she feared her head would implode under the weight of her nightmares.
Jason had refused to discuss taking John up on his offer. He had fussed like a mother hen these last few days, offering warm drinks, hot baths and his warm embrace to help keep the darkness out. Didn’t work. Nothing worked—except self-induced pain. Difficult to administer when one was asleep…
It irked her that she felt insecure on her own. Every man she met, every sound at her back, had her doing a double-take, hand clenched painfully round her keys in case she should need to defend herself. Woolf’s legacy, she thought bitterly, turning her into a frightened shadow of her former self. No, this would not do at all. Helle lengthened her stride and straightened her back. But she still clutched the keys.
She took the tube to Bank, changed to the District Line and rode in a half-empty car to Westminster. She kept on throwing looks over her shoulder, but by the time she’d exited opposite Big Ben, she had relaxed somewhat. She cut through the crowds of tourists on Parliament Square and set off up Victoria Street, frowning at a group of Italian schoolkids sprawling across the pavement. ‘Pavement’, not ‘sidewalk’: she smiled slightly. A year in England, endless hours with Jason, and his Englishness was beginning to rub off on her. It helped that Mum was English to begin with, she supposed.
True to his word, John was waiting outside the imposing building that housed the Metropolitan Police.
“Starbucks or Snax?” he asked.
“Starbucks it is. I love their muffins.”
It showed, Helle thought uncharitably. DCI Stapleton had something of a paunch.
She opted for a large latte, shook her head at the offered goodies.
“Does Jason know you’re here?” John sipped at his coffee.
“No.” Yet another twinge of guilt. He’d go ballistic, worried out of his mind when he found out she’d taken off. She dug out the phone and swiped the screen, swallowing at the six missed calls, all from Jason. She unmuted it, and as if on cue, it chirped.
WHERE R U? Nice, shouty capitals all the way. She responded, he texted again, she replied, he texted—all the while in capitals.
John snorted softly, pulled out his iPhone and sent Jason a text. “There. Now he knows you’re safe—with me.”
Helle nodded, busy tapping out one more text. This time, there was no immediate reply. In fact, there was no reply at all. She placed her phone where she could see it, but it remained dark and silent while she and John drank their coffees.
“You’ve had a rough week,” John said once he’d finished his muffin.
“I have.” Helle twirled her mug, causing what little remained of her latte to slosh about. “Don’t sleep much.”
“Because of your headaches?” He gave her a commiserating look. “It seemed pretty awful.”
“It is.” The dreams were worse, but admitting to them would make her come across as half-demented, so she chose not to say anything. “Do you think this person you mentioned could help?”
“Yes.” He frowned slightly, folding and unfolding his napkin. “But I’m not so sure I should involve her. She’s old, uses a wheelchair.”
“Sounds just like the ally we need,” Helle said sarcastically. She’d made it all the way here for nothing?
“Oh, don’t underestimate her.” John chuckled. “She scared the living daylights out of us when we were young.”
“Me and my siblings, our cousins. We used to spend our summers with one of my aunts, and this lady is her paternal aunt, my grandfather’s youngest sister.”
“Sheesh! She must be pushing a hundred.”
“I’m not that old,” he told her in a dry tone. “Anyway, one year we amused ourselves by sneaking out at night and going skinny-dipping in the nearby lake. Until the night Chloe got her foot stuck in something and was pulled under.” He shook his head at the recollection. “We didn’t know what to do,” he admitted, “and Chloe—we couldn’t see her. Which was when Katherine suddenly came flying out of the house, pushed me aside and waded out into the water where she simply raised her arms. Moments later, Chloe was coughing and wheezing, on her knees on the muddy shore.”
“Wow.” She wasn’t that impressed. It had been dark, they’d been scared, and this Katherine had probably seen poor Chloe and grabbed hold of her. Her scepticism must have shone through. John laughed softly. “She lifted the waters. That still lake rose into a huge wave that deposited Chloe on the shore.”
“Oh.” Now it all sounded incredible instead.
John tapped at her mug.
“No thanks.” She fiddled with her oh-so-quiet phone. “Will she be willing to help us?”
“I’ll ask—if you want me to.” John twisted his napkin. “She may say no. One never knows with her.” He laughed darkly. “She’s a bit…I don’t know, aloof? Self-sufficient? A bit like Jason, if you know what I mean.”
“No.” Helle gave him a cool look. “I don’t.”
John rolled his eyes. “Fine, have it your way.” His chair scraped as he stood. “Time to take you home, I think.” He winked slyly. “That bodyguard of yours won’t be pleased, will he?”
“Probably not.” And neither would Jason. Helle followed John out of the café.
Had Anna been allowed to choose, she’d have become a time-traveller. As this was impossible, she became a financial professional with three absorbing interests: history and writing.
Anna has authored the acclaimed time travelling series The Graham Saga, set in 17th century Scotland and Maryland, as well as the equally acclaimed medieval series The King’s Greatest Enemy which is set in 14th century England. (Medieval knight was also high on Anna’s list of potential professions. Yet another disappointment…)
With Jason and Helle, Anna has stepped out of her historical comfort zone and has loved doing so.
Blog Tour Schedule
Monday, July 6
Review at Books and Zebras
Wednesday, July 8
Feature at Donna’s Book Blog
Monday, July 13
Review at A Chick Who Reads
Wednesday, July 15
Excerpt at The Lit Bitch
Friday, July 17
Review at andreajanel_reads
Monday, July 20
Review at Passages to the Past
Wednesday, July 22
Excerpt at Chicks, Rogues, and Scandals
Friday, July 24
Review at Pursuing Stacie
Monday, July 27
Review at The Book Junkie Reads
Tuesday, July 28
Feature at What Is That Book About
Friday, July 31
Review at Cover To Cover Cafe
During the Blog Tour, we are giving away 2 paperback copies of A Flame Through Eternity! To enter, please use the Gleam form here – A Flame Through Eternity
– Giveaway ends at 11:59 pm EST on July 31st. You must be 18 or older to enter.
– Paperback giveaway is open internationally.
– Only one entry per household.
– All giveaway entrants agree to be honest and not cheat the systems; any suspicion of fraud will be decided upon by blog/site owner and the sponsor, and entrants may be disqualified at our discretion.
– The winner has 48 hours to claim prize or a new winner is chosen.