Ancient of Days: End of Perfection

Potiphera, an ostracized widow in the pre-deluge era of gods and demigods is sleeping out the wretch of her reality to the seductive wreath of a mysterious man in her dreams—unaware of how real her fantasies are and the danger it beckons...

Meanwhile, in the conclaves of supernal ramifications brews a cataclysm to end the reign of rebellious gods and their offspring, the demigods terrorizing their lesser counterparts: men. And corrupted men wielding the whips of forbidden knowledge.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         BUY NOW                                                                                                                                        

Read an Excerpt                                                                                                   

An excerpt from first chapter (The Watcher)

2513 B C

She found her bed to sleep out the evening. It was dark; full and heavy when she began to find sleep as the natural orchestral of the woods playing a concord of hooting, chirping and howling gradually died from her consciousness. It was then that he came. It was then that he always came—the mysterious man who made her want to sleep out the wretch of her days for the wreath of glory in her dreams.

Her dreams spieling, she found herself standing on a beach where the waves crashed against a golden shore, wearing nothing but a flowing chemise. The crashing waves echoed in her ears like drums from a distant, exotic land as she curled her bare toes into the wet sand.

She heard him call with that sonorous voice of his that never failed to send shivers down her spine.

Coyly, she spied through her shoulder, and there he was coming from behind. He rippled like a panther, oozing with charm—his steps emanating a swagger of both danger and sensuality as he stalked her. As ever, he was breathtakingly handsome—almost unnatural to look at. Lamping his face were eyes that looked like ice in blue flames, with cropped grey hair. Every angle of his face was hewn to perfection. His burly arms whipped around her as he pulled her against the pedestal of his bare chest that was a contour of tough muscles.

He was a bronze god.

And for now she was his goddess, all hers for the devouring...

END OF EXCERPT