A Soul to Touch: Duskwalker Brides: Book Three

A Soul to Touch Duskwalker Brides Book Three Opal Reyne Copyright © 2023 by Opal Reyne All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher. ISBN: 978-0-6455104-6-1 This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover art: Sam Griffin Trigger Warning Major spoiler below Please only read further if you have triggers, otherwise you will seriously spoil the book for yourself. Firstly, I will list what triggers AREN’T in the book so you can stop reading in order not to spoil it: No rape, non-con, purposeful harm done to the FMC by the MMC, torture, suicide/self-harm, depression, ow/om drama, abortion, mental/emotion abuse, incest, drug/alcohol abuse, or child harm. Please consider stopping here if your trigger has been detailed above as the rest are major spoilers. There is no pregnancy in the main story, however there is an epilogue pregnancy which is skippable. We delve into a wide variety of kinks in this book such as, breeding kink, dp, minor bite/blood play, minor strangulation play, tail play. This book does have detailed descriptions of wound and wound care, such as stitching, blood, gaping wounds. As always, my books have gore. There are descriptions of death, mourning before death, discussions of a possible upcoming death, and grief. A HEA is always guaranteed in my books. The FMC is a hunter and Demonslayer who uses animals to bait Demons. There are descriptions of wild animal deaths, although there is no maliciousness or torture. She tries to do so painlessly. Author’s note on language I’m from AUSTRALIA. My English is not the same as American English. I love my American English spoken readers to bits. You’re cute, you all make me giggle, and I just wanna give you a big ‘ol hug. However, there are many of you who don’t seem to realise that your English was born from British English, which is what I use (although a bastardised version since Australians like to take all language and strangle it until it’s a ruined carcass of slang, missing letters, and randomly added o’s). We don’t seem to like the letter z. We write colour instead of color. Recognise instead of recognize. Travelling instead of traveling. Skilful instead of skillfull. Mum instead of mom. Smelt is a past participle of smell. We omit the full-stop in Mr. Name, so it’s Mr Name. Aussies cradle the word cunt like it’s a sweet little puppy, rather than an insult to be launched at your face. Anyway, happy reading! To all the horny MonsterFuckers out there, this book is for you. For the people that the monster would be more afraid of you than you are of it. Where you’d grab that big badass by the horns and direct them between your thighs – doesn’t matter if it’s their otherworldly face, or their strange, fancy cock. Embrace your MonsterFucker heart, you know you want to. I would like to give a big shoutout to the wonderful sensitivity readers who helped to make this book a safe place for those I am trying to positively represent. As you all know, representation is a big part of what I want to do, but I want to do so in a way that isn’t harmful. Thank you Amanda, Careen, Charna, Emily, Marcella, PollyAné, Sue, Susan, Tracy, and Veluz for your contribution regarding Asian sensitivity. I would also like to thank Crystal for your contribution towards POC sensitivity. I appreciate all the time and effort you put into helping me with this book. You will forever have a place in my heart. The snow pressed against her flesh, causing goosebumps to flare up her bare legs until they assaulted her spine. Mayumi shivered, her little four-year-old legs sinking so far into the cold, dry powder that it came all the way above her wobbly knees. She didn’t have far to fall, constantly having to steady herself with her hands to dig herself out so she could press forward through the forest. It was dark. But she’d been marching through the night for so long that her eyes had adjusted to it. She could tell the difference between shadowy tree trunks, their leafy branches reaching down, and the shrubs on the ground. The sky was blue-black, helping her to know where darker obstacles were so she could avoid them. The glow of the moon bounced off the snow, aiding her vision as she searched. Should she, a child, be walking through the dangerous forest by herself? Definitely not, especially since her family resided outside of a village and its towering, protective walls. They were one of the rare families to live in the potentially Demon-filled forests, but her father guaranteed them they were safe – even more so when she was scared and in need of comfort. Did her parents know where she was? She sincerely hoped not – otherwise her father would give her a stern talking to. He was comforting and yet very scary. He was strict; he had to be with such a curious girl as his daughter. So, what was she doing outside in the forest by herself on one of the darkest nights of winter when she very much knew she’d be in trouble for it? Her tiny breaths came out as huffs that fogged in front of her face. They tickled her freezing nose, giving it a moment of warmth before fading. One nostril was dripping, and she constantly sniffled it. Her feet felt frozen in her night boots, and they ached with a numb kind of pain. It was the same in her hands and fingers. One of her hands pulled the jacket she’d thrown over