A series of enormous explosions rocked the grounds and Jeremiah hit the deck, pieces of glass and other debris raining down upon him, pattering his shoulders. Thump! Ka-thump! Thump!
Now it is too late to turn back, he thought to himself, and wondered if Satyena, wherever she was, were laboring under the same yoke: the yoke of wanting to destroy a thing while at the same time yearning (paradoxically) for its embrace. Then he was up and running, running for the base of the cliff, wanting to look back and yet too terrified to do so, a Bible quote from one of Kill-sin’s sermons echoing in his ear: But Lot’s wife looked back, and she became a pillar of salt.
He went into the kitchen and poured her a glass of water. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”
“I’m not hungry,” she said. She seated herself slowly, tentatively. “Two, maybe three days. Ever since Sister Samain wrested control of the coven from the Council. Thank you …” She took the glass from Jeremiah, still looking at the paintings. “They’re all done by the same hand, aren’t they?”
He took off his wide-brimmed hat and studied them. “The same eye. Sometimes Jasper’s hand shakes uncontrollably and I have to steady it with my own. Other times I am his hand, and he tells me what to do.” He laughed a little. “He says that I am an artist, just as he. But even I know it’s the eye that sees, not the hands.”
She continued staring at them. “No, I don’t think that’s true. These pictures have lines of grace … look, see how the fingers are elongated, and tend to curve up or down depending on the position of the body. They dance upon the canvas … surely you can see that. I think you paint them together, Jeremiah.”
He swung the strap of the respirator over his head and set it on a mantle. “I’m just his hands.” He moved to leave the room again.
“Just? But hands are for feeling,” she said.
He paused at the entrance to the hall. “And they’re for killing, too.” Then he disappeared into the dark.
And she thought, It’s the heart that kills, Jeremiah. The hard one by slaying others … and the soft by slaying itself. Then she pushed it from her mind.
They were the kind of musical notes men and woman once swayed to—even worshiped to—or so Jasper had told him, ground from an instrument called an “organ”—which had once been common, or so he’d said, but had vanished from the face of the world. So, too, were there cymbals, which echoed throughout the crew compartment of the War Wagon like tinsel—if tinsel could be said to have a sound—and mingled with the steely whispers of their muskets and tanks and other gear as the truck rocked and their harnesses held them fast.
“When a maaan loves a woman,” sang a hearty and soulful voice both inside and outside the compartment, and Jeremiah knew they were close, else the driver wouldn’t have cued the music, and when he scanned the other Witch Doctors, strapped in six to a bench in the wagon’s cramped confines, he knew that they knew it too. What was more, he knew that, however fearsome they looked in their black jumpsuits and white flame-retardant vests, their goggled respirators, their buckled hats—they were frightened, too.
After the bloody murder of her brother, Rei finds herself on the run from the coven that killed him. A powerful Earth witch, Rei searches for a natural well of magic to avenge her brother’s death, even if it costs her life. However, standing between her and her goal is an alluring wolf.
Aidan never took the time or interest to look for his mate, but when the young witch shows up on pack hunting grounds his solitary life is turned upside down. Now, he must find a way to protect his pack and the woman that fate has handed him.
In a world where witch and werewolf merge, this odd couple must fight off challenges from both within and outside of themselves. Can they fight off the coven of blood witches who threaten not just Rei, but Aidan’s entire pack? Can Rei accept the help that Aidan and his pack offer or will she try to brave it on her own?
Rush Mullens saw her parents, Joseph and Carmen, being murdered before her eyes as an 8 year old child– ten cloaked figures destroying her once peaceful life. She did not know the men responsible, but she would find them. She wanted revenge…she needed it.
When Lord Justin Maston came to take her in to his care, she vowed she would use this opportunity to find the murderer’s she chased. She did not think she would also find a boy she could love more than her own life.
Bailey Maston had never supposed to mean any more to her than a friend, one who could protect her from the new lifestyle she had been forced into. What he had become though was a young man who could take her breath away, and steal her heart.
Rush knew Bailey knew nothing of her family, or the life she was raised to live. She doubted should he learn the truth that he would understand. She could not let him endanger the revenge she so craved to seek. Nor could she ignore that she was willing to risk all – her past, her life, her reputation – just to sample an ounce of passion from this man.
Bailey Maston wanted to find a woman – the perfect woman – to give his heart to. He wanted to trust that such a person could exist that would never betray him. Everything he had seen in his young life, both at home and in society, told him what a foolish dream this was. Such a woman could never exist. Even if she did, he doubted she would ever willingly give her heart to a love-starved boy like him.
Foolish though his dream was, Bailey could not help being drawn to the young orphaned girl his parents had taken in.
He wanted her friendship and the attention she so willingly offered to him.
He craved to feel the passion he knew was hidden deep inside her.
What he did not want was to fall in love with her.
When Bailey finally discovers the truth of Rush’s life, and the revenge she was enacting, he feels betrayed. Foolish though it was, he hopes that beyond this betrayal may yet lay the woman he has always yearned to find…a woman he craved to give his well-guarded heart to.