The Sovereigns Reign (The Venturian Chronicles Book 2)

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  3. Joseph Ratzinger's Theology of the Word | Christopher Collins - irogyrikewyx.tk

The author's world-building is exemplary, the characters continue to grow and evolve through their trials and successes in an engaging and enjoyable read. The story stays more firmly in pov than the first book, and succeeds where many 'middle' of a series books fail. This is no saggy middle but a fast-paced and entertaining story stronger in its own right than its predecessor. Some readers seem to doubt Davros and his intentions as this part of the trilogy comes to a conclusion I will leave that to the reader, but I think in the end he will remain true to himself and his destiny Loved the book it was well written and a easy read.

I wanted to kick Davros's ass for what he did to Jesse. I cant wait until I get to read book One person found this helpful. See all 3 reviews. Amazon Giveaway allows you to run promotional giveaways in order to create buzz, reward your audience, and attract new followers and customers. Learn more about Amazon Giveaway. Set up a giveaway. There's a problem loading this menu right now. Learn more about Amazon Prime.

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He was a majestic creature, standing before her with no fear, and, Jesse noted, no weapon. She met his gray gaze, finding patient curiosity in his expression.

His eyes unnerved her as they followed her progress with a turn of his proud head. Davros admired the careful way she sidestepped the perimeter of the cell. He found her ginger movements graceful. One small hand lay over her bandaged side while the other brushed the wall as she moved, leg over leg, considering him. Her dark blue eyes narrowed, suggesting deep thought--Davros wondered if she would respond to him.

He realized that she was summing him up, as one appraises an adversary, and taking her time to reach a conclusion. Perhaps, this female possesses a great deal more intelligence than the others do. She came to the end of her circle to stand in line with him beside the bars. Practically trembling, Jesse fought to compose herself.

He appears so relaxed. I can easily surprise him. Sinking to one knee, in a bogus effort to tie her shoe, she felt the sheath still strapped to her ankle. She prayed the knife was still within it. The Venturian still watched her. Jesse settled on one foot, her weight heavy on the other leg, ready to jump. She shrugged, crossing her arms over her bent knee. It was time to act. The Venturian took a step toward her. As Davros headed out the door, Jesse sprang at him while pulling the knife from its sheath beneath her high-top sneaker.

It was amazing how quickly the Venturian reacted.


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Grasping her upheld wrist, he crushed her bones in a vice-like grip. The knife clattered to the floor as Jesse struggled to free herself from his hold. Too stunned to think, Davros could only react. Pinning both arms behind her back, he pulled her thrashing form against him, grabbed a fist full of hair, and yanked it back until she was still. Fortunately, those were the extent of her physical attributes.

You will not attempt anything like that again. Despite the frightening fury he felt, the human was undaunted. Davros tightened his hold around her but released her hair to close his hand around her throat. Davros did not go to the lab the next day. He had to sort out a few things. In the rooms where he had set up his household, he spent the day mulling over his notes. He had found a staggering number of people at the lab still faithful to the throne, were the rightful heir present to claim it.

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Through casual conversation, he had discovered many people loathed Gar and all he stood for. His thoughts of Jesse were more troubling. He had tried to dismiss his original thoughts but could not deny the recurrent memory of her face nor his own jealousy. Ultimately, he denied himself any carnal pleasures. Everything about Jesse pleased him. Even her differences appealed to him. Her skin, uncovered by soft fleece, was as lovely and as smooth as any young female; and her hair, flowing around her like a golden waterfall, was as silken as any feathery mane.

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He longed to touch her, to please her, as much as she would please him, and he could. She was not unaware of him as a male. Of that, he was sure. Her cheeks had turned bright red on those occasions, a tendency he also found most becoming. She had also not argued over the proposition of mating. Her concern had been for the life of the child that could result.

Davros admitted he must confront her again. When he entered the facility in the morning, he found it in a state of chaos. People scurried through the halls in animated awe. He found Rankin in his office. His confused young squire was searching his desk. Rankin froze and looked up at the prince, relief washing over his features.

He is demanding your notes on Jesse. He and his commander are interrogating her. He could be recognized. Davros had not seen Gar since his fourth stage, but Riker would know him. Was the human worth losing his cover? Davros hesitated at the door. If not, all would be lost and Gar could easily kill him.

If she was The Chosen One, he had to save her. Jesse licked her bleeding lip and glared at the Venturian standing over her. If her legs were free, she would kick him so hard. After twenty-four hours in that stinking solitary confinement where she sat curled in a ball, fighting a stubborn rat for the measly five feet of black, cold space, she was dragged out, only to be tied to a chair and beaten. A sharp blow across her already black and blue brow interrupted her thoughts.

In fact, she felt removed from her entire body. How long could this go on? How many times would they ask her about The Phoenix? Maybe she would pass out. The abject horror on his face when he saw her told her he had not arranged this interrogation. His expression cleared as the two other Venturians turned to him. After that, he made a point of avoiding her gaze. The one asking the questions seemed to be the one in charge, even though Davros seemed reluctant to acknowledge his supremacy.

He was taller, broader, better formed and his wing coloring was midnight black. His pale gray uniform was simply a wraparound shirt, similar to the one Davros always wore, and his trousers were stuffed into high black boots.

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An insignia bar of crosses dangled from four chain hoops pinned over his left breast, which Jesse assumed designated his rank. If not for the maniacal look of pleasure whenever he hit her, Jesse would have thought him good looking, even attractive. He had that twisted grin across his lips now and sheer hatred in his black eyes. Jesse wondered if it was hatred for her entire race or just her. She had never been the recipient of such hate nor of such probing scrutiny.

Those eyes, so black you could scarcely pinpoint the irises, were sharp, cunning.


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Jesse hated them already. His smile faded and his expression filled with ominous anger.

Joseph Ratzinger's Theology of the Word | Christopher Collins - irogyrikewyx.tk

As Jesse knew, calling any Venturian male a bastard of his line would certainly upset them. The commander muttered something to her and Jesse searched her mind for a translation. It was a threat of sorts, a painful one.