Catching Eagles (Territory Walk #4) Read Online Kelsey Soliz

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Territory Walk Series by Kelsey Soliz

Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 92832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)


I finally found my mate from the Desert Hills territory, after walking nearly the entire length of its borders.
The problem is, he doesn’t count.
There’s a clause in the magical guide to mates that if a partner isn’t from your world, they can’t represent a territory.
Then there’s Donny, who insists on waiting for me until I find a proper Desert Hills mate, because he’s convinced the prophecy his family told him means the world will quite literally burn down if he doesn’t wait his turn. The problem with that thinking is, is that his family’s likely not completely with it and they forgot about the prophecy. So what place does that leave me in Donny’s life?

Full Book:


The scene: A quaint little vineyard in Italy. A castle looms in the background, a sunset swaths the sky. Our merry band of characters are wearing their lederhosen and prancing merrily along the forest floor. A feast is set out, the turkey steaming.

Who made the turkey? Some things are better left unsaid.

Next, let’s catch up with everybody, shall we? It’s been a while since we’ve done this.

When we last saw our characters, all the farm animals had just realized that the spider was going to die. They needed one last act of triumph to show their love for her. The pig had vowed to raise her hatchlings.

No, no that’s not right.

Hmm. The greaser had gone preppy in a nice cardigan in order to impress his lady? But in a funny twist, she was decked out in black leather to impress him?

Oh, I know. Jack had just reached the top of the beanstalk. Right?

*Tomato enters scene and stabs an invisible sword into the heart of the fake narrator. He was never going to measure up to that Morgan Freeman guy anyway. The narrator puffs away into nothing, screaming as he goes. Tomato wipes his hand in a ‘that’s that’ sort of way.*

Good, right. Now that that’s over and done with, let’s get to the real important thing here shall we? I was being lovingly planted into this gorgeous terra cotta pot. The most stable hands that anyone has ever seen were tending to me. My pretty green buds were beginning to unfurl, climbing up the side of the cage that ensconced us. The sun was shining, the light mist that had just fallen the night before nourishing us. Everything was set up to make me the most beautiful of tomato plant existences. I was going to live a wonderful life. Shiny red fruits were beginning to take form, hanging temptingly from the vines. My soil was rich. I wanted for nothing, really.

Except, maybe a puppy. Everyone needs a puppy. Even plants.

All was going swimmingly, until it wasn’t. I remember it like it was yesterday because it was.

Hmm. Or was it just a few moments ago? Is it possible my existential crisis has disoriented my linear comprehension of time?

There I was, minding my own business. There was a disturbance in the force, and some young yahoo with dark red hair came bounding out to the building my caretaker calls a house. He had a strange smile on his face as he looked around the yard. He seemed far too happy to be human. But who am I to judge such things?

There I was being all tomato-y and shit, being pollinated by the fuzzy bumblebees. Life was perfect. Until this yahoo wandered too close to the magic portal. If I wasn’t a tomato, I might say it happened in slow motion. But I am a tomato, and I’m far too intelligent to believe such things are actually possible.

Please don’t eat me.

I kept waiting for more humans to come out and save him, because I could tell something was about to go very, very wrong. The portal began to emit a sound, sort of like music. The red haired yahoo became entranced. He drifted closer and closer, with little regard to where my pot was.

*Explosion, tomato dies*

*Fairy family living out back that no one knew about, takes over the helm.*

Gross. It’s everywhere.

The real story began in a land far away, where some of my brethren were rudely displaced by-

*Donny goes flying through the glass, knocking all possible narrators unconscious, doing a fancy cartwheel midair*

*Donny lands with a satisfied plop right on the couch. Or no, that wasn’t a couch at all.*

“Sorry Brett,” he says in a pained voice. “I really thought I had that handled better.”


“What the fuck?”

That question is directed at both the stranger I find myself kissing, and the fact that one of my friends just flew through the window in a strangely acrobatic display.

Bennett’s head falls back onto the ground with a light thud, rubbing his eyes as if he needs to wake himself up. I’m really not quite sure how we just found ourselves in this position, but I’m going to have to come back and analyze it later.