Trapped Blog Tour with ES Tilton

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Title Trapped
Genre Fantasy Fiction (ghost, paranormal, epic)


When the Red Pelican Assassin’s Guild offered Sarenka a job she thought she was getting a safe cottage to live in while she spied on philandering innkeepers.  She had no idea it would lead to wanted posters flapping in the ocean breeze and eating scraps from dog bowls. Branded a murderess, her only chance for survival is to escape Burmtin.

Without friends or allies she’s lonely, desperate. Yet she dare not reveal her true face for fear of what the slavers, mercenaries, pirates, and petty thieves will do. Caught within a broiling cloud of deception, where psychics and ghosts fight to control the twists of fate, Sarenka finds in the end that only one thing matters: Can the same illusions that doom her, save her?

“Enter a world of decadent opulence and primitive tribalism. Unleash your imagination and ride the tide of fantasy with shape-shifters and quicksilver demons. Lose yourself in a labyrinthine world, Kyron’s Worlde.”
This is a stand alone book in the Kyron’s World saga. Other books in the series include Foretold: Betrayal and Foretold: Seduction’s Blade.



ES Tilton

Avid gardener and costume enthusiast, ES Tilton spends her time petting cats, loving on family, playing with computers, and writing fantasy fiction. Despite a recent move to the country, she claims there is never enough time to follow her dreams, to whatever strange land they may lead. She is the proud owner of two cats, one lover, three children, and more plants than she can take care of. Her other interests include dancing, herbal healing, psychic phenomena, and, of course, pleasure.

Author Links

Buy Links – US
Buy Links – UK


I shouldn’t be… this is wrong. I should be… Her thoughts reeled, searching for answers. On my cot, clean and bandaged, not… sticky… and smelling like….
The pervading scent of blood burst through her mind, creating explosive tingles throughout her body. Sarenka’s scarlet eyes snapped open. The lights of her freni-kyn hair sparked, throwing off bits of glowing color. She threw herself backward, scrabbling to get away but the chain anchored her there. Too close. Oh god!
The master’s glazed eyes stared coldly across the short space. Her stomach wrenched into dry heaves, sending shards of pain stabbing through her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting off the morning-after-nausea of the foreveron drug. A single pain-tear trickled down her cheek before she forced her eyes open.
Dead… he’s… dead. Dizzying relief flooded her senses. She stared at the man’s broken body, lip lifting in a snarl. And he’ll never touch me again.
Sarenka squinted, darting glances from the uneven ground to darkened doorways to shadowy alleyways and back again. The narrow streets were strewn with refuse and sometimes excrement, forcing her to take care where she stepped in the scattered torchlight. Unsavory smells assaulted her sensitive freni-kyn nose, making her wish for a scented cloth to hold to her face. An impossibility; it would make her a target, or worse, reveal her identity. The buildings leaned drunkenly, supporting each other with rickety frames, as though they, like their inhabitants, found solace at the bottom of a drinking horn. Bits and pieces of wood and shell and cloth were tacked to the outside, not as decoration, but at a means for holding the buildings together.
The sound of children’s laughter drew her to a side street where scrawny bodies threw dice and shouted with glee over their winnings. Half-eaten biscuits, a wooden cup, threadbare shoes, and a pinch of copper shavings were piled in the center, ready for the winning roll. She walked past, pretending disinterest. Rounding the corner, she stopped to wait for the sounds that would indicate the end of the game. The shout of triumph that arose, mingling with a chorus of curses, signaled that the time to move was near.
She held her breath at the scuffing sound of approaching feet. A child rounded the corner, head down, walking dispiritedly. She grasped the boy and jerked him into the shadows.
She stopped in the tranquil garden to draw deep calming breaths before focusing on her freni-kyn illusions. Unlike earlier, when she could not control the color of her hair sparks, the illusions worked. Her face shifted into a nondescript h’euman, losing its telltale heart shape and blue coloring, while her hair fell to her shoulders in a coal-black mass, shedding the characteristic freni-kyn lights.
Good… foreveron wearing off… I’ve got at least a little control now. It wasn’t much of a disguise and she knew it. A simple face, designed to blend in, one she had been trained to make her first few days as an agent.
The spicy sweet scent of flowers rolled through the garden, reminding her of the blood. She sniffed her arm and grimaced. Finding a way to get rid of the blood before someone else smelled it would become paramount if she didn’t get out the main gates immediately. Meanwhile, illusions would mask the red smears and spatters, keeping her safe from detection.
If… I can hold the illusions long enough.
Sarenka raced across town for the city gates, grateful for the quiet slippers. Irritating beaded fringe slapped against her hands and chest in tempo with her stride, making her wish she had a knife to cut them free.
Time to flee… find a different… safer… place. Quickly! Before they discover the body.
(Explicit Edition only!)
“Now… enough soul searching…” Standing to turn towards him, Beth tugged her long skirt up out of the way and straddled his lap. Her legs wrapped about his waist and she used the leverage to grind against him.
Momentarily distracted by his body’s response, D’trav closed his eyes and moaned.
“We’ve an hour before we open, and you’re not having a problem… now…”
Lowering his head, D’trav resumed the trail of kisses she had interrupted, alternating back and forth between each breast. “I still oughta not done what I did to the girl. Takin’ advantage of her being chained and all. But you know how I am about that stuff. I felt… I don’t know… like someone else had control. Ever since then I’ve wondered if I’m right in the head.”
“You’re my kind of right.” Beth giggled. “You can chain me up any time you want, luv.”
Holding out her wrists, she pulled his attention away from the uncharacteristic introspection. He wasn’t the type to spend a lot of time figuring out why he did things and was glad to be brought back to the moment. His gaze traveled from her wrists to her face, then dropped back down to her breasts. The musky scent of her jasmine perfume wafted upwards, luring him in.
D’trav growled playfully and his kisses turned into nips. “You’re sooo bad. I might be forced to go to the considerable trouble of spankin’ you.”
“I know… I am.” Wriggling against him, Beth playfully pulled away.

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