Hi, everyone.

I hope you’re well.

This morning, in Patty’s Worlds, I’ve got a #SizzlingSunriseSurprise for you!

Each Monday, I’ve been sharing a chapter of the first book in The Blended Lives Chronicles A Lady MoonWalker Series. I will continue doing so. The next installment of that will drop this evening at sundown.

For now, I’d like to share a bit of book III. This is the most I’ve allowed out, and it is subject to great change in the editing process. So whether you’ve read or not, this is a chapter you can enjoy.

It does contain things which will let you know some things out of order, but I don’t think it will put you out of countenance.

It also contains some erotica.

If that’s not your thing, I bid you pass this by.

It is not harsh, only playful and in my mind romantic.

Well, let’s go and see…

The image shows a white, ornate vintage key positioned diagonally against a dark red background. Behind the key, there are two circles: one deep red, partially transparent and overlapping with a larger, lighter pink circle. The overall style is minimalist, with the key centralized and standing out due to its bright color contrasted against the solid, rich background and the softer circles behind it. The image evokes a sense of mystery or a symbolic theme.

The Blended Lives Chronicles

A Lady MoonWalker Series

Book III

Chambers Between the Minds

Sides have been chosen, choices made. The war of the Purified is underway.

Derrick Gibbous, Second in Command of The Order’s double life finally has him on the run. His wife, High Priestess Laya MoonWalker Gibbous draws closer to her delivery date, which is said will produce the most powerful duel ever known.

With Derrick gone, Randall Jennings knows Laya must have a handler, and the only man for the job is one not seen in many moons.

Does Randall dare to delve into the past? Will the chosen soldier accept his mission?

Follow The Order through the portal into the chambers between the minds where you’ll discover a world where past, present, and future collide. A world in which only the strongest will survive, and outcomes are inspected, rejected, and finally accepted.

Chapter One: The Mission

April 1, 2062 — Moon Phase: Full

Laya stood at her dresser, tossing items from its glass top into a large carry bag.

Laya, you don’t need all that extra stuff,” Marcus chided as he stepped into the room. “I thought I told you to pack light.”

She spun to face him, eyes flashing. “Marcus, you don’t know what I might need—or not need. First, I’m a woman. We see need differently than you men. Second, I’m pregnant, and just so you know; I need all this. We’re going into a place where no one knows what’s available. Every guidebook for missions like this insists you take exactly what you believe you’ll need. I’ve done just that.”

Marcus lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I stand corrected. I suppose it won’t do me any good to say anything more about how we’re traveling?”

“We’re shifting,” Laya replied. “That shouldn’t be a problem—unless you have trouble shifting while carrying things. And for the record, I can carry my own.”

Isn’t that the same bag whose strap broke at convention in 2060?”

“Marcus.” Laya’s voice sharpened as the wind picked up outside.

“Laya?” he countered, and the wind dropped.

“Look, this really is necessary. I only brought one or two of everything. And yes, this is the bag—but it’s been reinforced. It won’t break. Test it yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“I’m not throwing out my back before we even get going,” Marcus teased, tugging gently on one of her short curls. “Derrick would die if he saw your hair. I can’t believe you cut it.”

“Derrick isn’t swollen with twins and about to step into a world with no hair services,” Laya said softly. Then her voice hardened. “Come to think of it, Derrick isn’t here at all. Derrick is off playing soldier of fortune, convinced he’s the only one for the job.”

The wind outside began to rise again, and the sky darkened with ominous clouds.

“Laya!” Marcus snapped. “Get control. Now!”

With liquid speed, he caught her arms. “I said—now!”

Laya closed her eyes and began to chant, “I am the river. Life is the bank. I must follow the path of life.” Slowly, her breathing steadied, and the sky cleared beyond the observation windows.

“That’s better,” Marcus said approvingly. “You know better than that. Tonight—two hours of meditation.”

“Tonight,” Laya retorted, “we’ll be in Korponious proper and”

“And you will do your meditation,” he cut her off. His tone sharpened. “Or the first thing the neighbors will know is that little Miss Brat gets her bottom spanked. There, it would be perfectly acceptable for me to do it on the porch. Is that how you’d like our cover to look? Husband dragging wayward wife into Korponious so he can live where no one questions his discipline? I can make that happen. I don’t care where we are or what we’re doing, you will keep control of yourself. Especially there. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Marcus,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. It’s just”

Her words broke off in a jagged pain filled sob. She turned away, covered her face, and began to cry. “I’m sorry, Marcus. Do what you wish.”

Marcus drew her gently into his arms. “Laya. Though it would be difficult to regroup, it was decided when I called an emergency meeting of the Order to discuss last-minute possibilities, if necessary, we can at any time bring this to a close and put another plan into place.”

Laya resisted for only a heartbeat before letting herself sink against him.

“No, too many lives are at stake. We’ve come too far, risked and sacrificed too much. It’s always the way for me. Even now, for the good of millions I must sacrifice, to make sure it is delivered.” she said in a voice heavy with defeat. “We must see it through. I agreed.”

“When you agreed, it was supposed to be you and Derrick.” His voice dropped low. “But we can’t let anyone there know we’re anything but a happy, loving couple escaping the horror of war, and working to restore peace. This mission will be rough, and there’s no promise it will succeed. So, I’ll ask again, are you sure?”

She rested her head on his shoulder in silence for so long that Marcus began to think she had fallen asleep. He was about to carry her to bed when she stirred.

“Let’s do it, Marcus. I can manage this—as long as you handle me like you just did. Don’t hesitate to correct me. You’re right. I could blow our cover in moments if I’m not careful. Maybe I really am your wayward wife.”

He kissed her cheek. “I know what my wayward wife truly needs to bring her back in line. No worries.”

With that, he swept her into his arms and carried her to bed. But neither of them slept.

At first their lovemaking had been clumsy, uncertain—Laya weighed down by guilt, Marcus afraid it was all illusion that would dissolve like smoke.

Then, about a week earlier, as he’d worked at his desk clearing files Laya had come to his office one evening wearing a long, flowing silk gown with lace at the cuffs, bodice, and hem. Her short cap of black curls, touched with strands of silver, framed a face bright with the glow of pregnancy. An unusual combination but on Laya it was gorgeous. Through the lace at the bodice, he could just make out the soft curves of the tops of her breasts, while the cotton-candy-colored fabric flowed over the gentle fullness of her pregnant body. The smiling pout of her lips completed the picture, and something inside him had simply flipped.

“Laya. WOW! You’re beautiful.”

“Come to bed Marcus. All work and no play makes Laya lonesome. Come and keep me company?”

She ran the tip of her tongue lightly over her lips and gave him that pouty, mischievous smile.

“Laya, what you’re doing is rather naughty,” Marcus warned in a low, mock-threatening tone. “You’re going to land yourself in trouble, Miss. Tell me—how long it has been since you have had to stand beside your chair at mealtimes?”

Her heart pounded. She longed for his guidance, for the stern affection only he could give—but the fear of showing that need twisted inside her. Still, her expression betrayed her, inviting him closer.

Rising to his feet, Marcus let a low, purring growl roll from his throat. With one deliberate motion, he swept her gown up, letting the fabric cascade over her glowing, expectant body before revealing the wickedly naughty underthings she had dared to wear.

“Well now,” he said, his voice sharpened with stern amusement. “These are troublesome. Wicked little temptations—and I like them all the more for it. But we’ll need to have a talk about them, Miss.”

His palm came down in a firm smack, sharp enough to leave a flicker of fire in its sting, yet gentle enough to remind her he cherished her.

“Marcus!” she cried out in a whiny, contrite tone, wriggling under the heat of his hand.

A second smack followed, sharper, delivering a fiery sting that made her gasp. Her body betrayed her, the burn turning her on even as it left her feeling every inch the naughty lady she was. Shame mingled with a dark thrill—this was what she craved, though she hardly dared to show it.

His eyes darkened with both affection and command. “Yes, my Miss,” he murmured, voice edged with promise. “We’ll talk.” Slowly, deliberately, he peeled the lacy fabric from her hips, baring the soft curve of her bottom. He let his fingers linger, tracing the warm skin.

“There now,” he said softly, his tone both proud and teasing. “A perfect handprint, glowing pink across you. My mark.” His palm rubbed gently over the sting, soothing and claiming at once. “You feel it, don’t you, Missy? Exactly where you needed it.”

A shiver coursed through her, and though her voice trembled, she whispered, “Yes, Marcus… I feel it. I feel you. And I” She faltered, caught between fear and longing, then let the truth slip out in a rush. “I want more.”

His hand stilled for a moment, anchoring her in the weight of his presence. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice firm yet tender. “If you need a sore bottom to remind you of who you are, and your responsibilities, I’ll give it to you without hesitation.” Then, his tone softened, rich with love” I’d much rather give you my heart, my touch, my love. That’s what I want to fill you with.”

As he spoke, his hand wandered lower, teasing with maddening patience. He pressed just enough to make her tremble, circling, brushing, drawing out every quiver and gasp. He lingered at the spot that made her breath catch, stroking slowly, deliberately, keeping her poised at the edge without letting her fall.

Her body strained toward him, desperate and aching, every nerve alive with the mix of pleasure and discipline. She wanted to beg but held back, caught between pride and longing.

Marcus bent close, his breath warm against her ear. “Say it, Miss. Ask me. I want to hear you.”

The command unraveled her. “Please, Marcus… don’t stop. Please, I need you.” The words spilled out, breathless and contrite, laced with both shame and desire.

He smiled, tender yet triumphant. “That’s my girl. Honest. Open. Mine.” He kissed her temple, then drew back just enough to meet her flushed face. “And remember this sweetie- never feel ashamed of what your body feels or does. Desire is not naughty. It’s part of you, and I love you for it.”

Gathering her against him, gown flowing over her glowing form, he carried her with care. The discipline lingered as a promise, but what awaited them was gentler.

In the quiet of their chamber, passion blossomed between them—slow at first, then rising into a fervent tide. Every kiss, every caress spoke of love as much as need, tenderness as much as hunger. They moved together as one, not only to satisfy desire, but to seal the bond between them—lover and beloved, guide and guided, each finding strength in the other.

When at last they lay entwined, breathless, and sated, every last doubt between them had been stripped away.

Now, as she slept soundly in his arms, Marcus could hardly believe she was truly his. They were being sent as diplomats for negotiations—a cover that could stand on their own. Yet the thought of playing the role of strict husband and wayward wife lodged in his mind. The danger, though, was real: Laya’s years of abuse at the hands of her dead mate Jack still haunted her. To live that way openly could undo everything. But what choice did they have?

Morning came too quickly. As they prepared to leave, Laya said, “I think we’ll be fine just as we are. The diplomat cover will work, and the fact that I sometimes lose my way and need to be brought back in line—that will fit too. Maybe we’re worker bees with doubts about our Federation’s motives.”

“That’s a good idea,” Marcus admitted. “See? I knew it! I knew you were going to be natural.”

“I only wish Wolverine could come. I hate being without her right now. I’m struggling.”

“Maybe once we’re settled. We’ll tell them she’s your midwife. But first, we make sure our cover holds.”

For a moment they stood in the small apartment they’d shared since their ceremony. Just for that moment, both wished to call it off. Marcus looked down at her—belly swollen with twins, face pale and resigned, eyes desperate and searching. Unable to find their way. He wanted nothing more than to take her back to bed and shield her from everything.

“Marcus,” she whispered, “a sunstone for your thoughts?”

“I was thinking how stupid we are. You have no business going into Korponious while pregnant—“

“Shhhh.” She touched his face. “It’ll be okay. I promise. We’ve got this.”

“Laya, if something happens to you or the twins… I’ll never forgive myself. Derrick wouldn’t have to kill me. I’d do it for him if you’re harmed. I love you. You’re more than my charge. Please—promise me you won’t take unnecessary risks. Promise me you’ll obey and be careful.”

“I will, Marcus. You’ll see. It will be fine.”

But it didn’t feel fine. Ever since the meeting in the Chamber of the Minds, Marcus had sensed it—an undercurrent of evil trailing them. A presence with no face, like a shadow lurking in the corner, waiting to leap. It was familiar, too, as if it had stalked him before.

“Marcus? Something bothering you?” Laya asked, slipping her hand into his.

“Do you feel it? That shadow. Something trailing us.”

She stood still, the feel of his hand strong and firm around hers, then nodded. “Yes. I’ve felt it since Derrick left the planet. I thought it was just my emotions.”

“No. It’s its own presence,” Marcus said.

“Should we tell Randall?”

“I’ll discuss it with him later. Right now, we’re expected elsewhere.”

They lifted their packs at the same instant and clasped hands.

“Ready?” Marcus asked.

“As much as I’ll ever be,” Laya said, her breath catching. “Let’s do this before we lose our nerve.”

King, who had been sitting calmly at Laya’s side, shifted to his feet the moment their bodies began to shimmer. Pressing even closer to her leg, he stood firm as if to anchor them all.

Marcus instinctively reached for the dog’s collar to steady him, and in the same heartbeat, the little family-to-be dissolved into light and was gone.

From the corner of the room, a shadowed presence stirred, then slid back into the darkness. Waiting, watching, and reporting.

Chapter Two: Change in Plans

Whoopsy. You can go no further. Please return soon to see more on the release of this title.

For now, we return you to your regular blogging.

May Harmony find Us All.

And Remember…

“It’s the darkness of night which makes the day seem so bright.”

Patty L. Fletcher – Author and Content Promoter.

About Patty L. Fletcher

Updated November 2024

Patty L. Fletcher is a woman of passion and exploration.

She studies the art of manifestation and is a seeker of knowledge and the wisdom to know what to do with it when it’s learned.

To learn more visit: https://pattysworlds.com/about/

If you have made mistakes, even serious mistakes, you may have a fresh start from any moment you choose, for this thing we call ‘failure’ is not the falling down, but the staying down.

Mary Pickford