Sydney Trousseau has always known she was a witch, but at the age of eighteen, she learns she is immortal as well. Orphaned, and time lost, she doesn't remember her parents and always wondered who she had received the gift of magic from, her mom or her dad. Learning she could summon the dead through dance, she unintentionally summons a female from a lost dynasty called Lafoa, from whom she learns, to save the man she loves from an ancient curse, she must travel thousands of years into the past.
OTHER
Every sweet has its sour, every evil its good.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
2010 Breaux Bridge, Louisiana
A bolt of lightning shot through the sky, shattering its tranquility as another bolt-the more adventurous of the two-struck out separately, her fingers stretching wider, longer, toward the ground, targeting the thick canopy of trees below. Then, with unfettered superiority, she chose her target, sparks of reddish-orange flames shooting out into the night as she met the ground.
Beneath the two sister's temperament, a figure moved through the night with no regard for their power; fear was not an emotion suffered, only hunger, the need to feast...
SYDNEY
The clouds surrendered fat drops of rain and pounded the wetlands as claps of thunder rumbled loudly, voicing exultation within the chaos. Beneath the spectacular moodiness, the moisture intermingled with the musty scent of the wetlands, creating a pungent, yet almost addictive fragrance. With a small inhalation of the familiar aroma, I shifted closer to the edge of the creek. I'd sought it out, needing to understand this edge of death, the insanity it built within my mind, and as I peered at the water, I caught sight of a small limb battling to stay afloat within the chaos all around it.
With curiosity, I watched its fight, its tenacious will to survive. Why? I wondered. Why fight so hard only to wash up on a sandbar further down the creek? There, the limb would only lay beneath the blistering rays of the sun for endless days. Hour by hour, it would shed what remained of its life. Its leaves, turning brown and crisp, until finally, with the slightest provocation from the wind, they would release, floating through the air until they landed, feet, yards-possibly even miles away, only to become mulch for future life. Was that what life was all about? Its purpose? To fight to survive, and then eventually wither and die? If that was the design of something alive, then what was the intent for something...other?
I shook my head, again feeling the pull to just toss myself over the bank and find out if I truly was immortal. I'd always known I was different, but I'd had no idea I was this different! Immortal. Really? How was that even possible? I mean, were there others like me out there? I couldn't possibly be the only one, could I? Surely others of my kind-whatever kind of immortal I was-existed? I wasn't a vampire, I knew that much-I didn't have fangs and I didn't need blood to exist, so I could mark that one, off. I hadn't changed into anything with scales or fur yet either, so I figured I was safe to mark that one off too. Maybe a Superhero? Nah, too afraid of heights. Angel? Demon? Don't be absurd. So, what the hell else was there? I'd poked, prodded, and begged for an answer, but I remained ignorant of what I was. Maybe I'd remained that way because no one else knew how to label me either. I'd never thought much of my ancestry, but I'd believed I was at least human-yet...I'd been told differently.
Slowly drawing my eyes away from the creek's churning madness, I noted the increase in the wind. The moisture it spat at me stung my face, and not much a fan of its aggression, I turned to make my way back through the dense growth of trees.
Restless, my gaze took in my surroundings as I walked. I'd felt the need deep in my bones the moment I'd opened my eyes this morning to explore the wetlands behind my home, though I couldn't help but wonder why now. Nevertheless, I still felt the need, as if my soul was looking for something.
As I made my way deeper and deeper into the marshes, a touch of the storm held reign over the wetland's inner growth, the fauna dancing within the storm's breath. Twisting and turning within the puppet-master like control of the wind, the Spanish moss-or Barbe Espangol as it was called in early times by the French, as it had reminded them of the Spanish conquistadors' long beards-fluttered across my face and shoulders, much as a hairy beard would have done.
Several minutes passed as I continued working my way forward until I finally pushed through the vast swaths of the bromeliad and gazed at the huge circle of grass that reminded me somewhat of a huge version of a fairy ring. However, my steps faltered, then ceased altogether as I sucked in a startled breath. Ripples of disbelief undulated throughout me as well did a battery of emotions.
With his eyes closed and face turned upward, Declan Guchereau stretched his arms above his head, paying homage to the storm as biting drops of rain bombarded the chiseled angles of his face and saturated the chocolate tone of his hair, making it appear rich, dark chocolate.
Fascinated, I couldn't look away. Instead, I watched as small droplets of rain tracked down his sculpted cheekbones, then past the curve of his jaw, where continuing to spiral downward, they traveled to the arch of his neck before pooling in the hollow of his collarbone. Then after a slight pause, they overflowed the barrier of bone and advanced onto his bare chest, as sprinting downward, they disappeared into the soaked waistband of his low-slung jeans.
As my eyes made the return journey up his body, I refreshed my memory, taking in the man before me; absorbing his chocolate hair, the boot-clad feet.
I still had my eyes pinned on his face when he gave a slight twitch before his nostrils flared slightly and his jaw tightened. Slowly turning his head, but otherwise remaining still as stone, he stared at me out of intensely-silver eyes. On impulse, I stepped forward but gave a slight squawk when, with a light growl and some weird static charge in the air, the ground shifted beneath me, landing me on my ass in a puddle of muck.
For seconds I sat, disbelieving what had just happened and not making even the slightest move to get myself out of the slick, gooey mess.
Finally, shaking myself out of my stupefaction, I placed my hands on the ground to either side of my hips and pushed upward.
Several minutes later, and many failed attempts, as I just kept sliding like a goose on ice, I finally managed to right myself, then as I began slinging mud off my hands I looked up and hissed, "Mother fucker-not again!"
Carefully climbing to my feet, I despondently brushed at the leaves, twigs, and mud clinging to my clothes. This wasn't the first time I'd seen Declan's image over the past two years, but it was the first time he'd looked back. All the other times he'd shown no indication he'd been aware of my presence.
Slowly my surroundings came back into focus, and an awareness of the unsettling hush within the marshes crawled through me.
The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood on end: the silence, eerie as I noted the storm had grown quiet, not even a rumble of thunder in the distance. The peculiarity of how fast it had ended sent a chill over my body, as did the fact no insects were buzzing, no animals chattering, and not even the Tree frogs were peeping.
The possible source stole through me, and after what I'd seen it do to Merrick, I made short work of getting out of the mud pit.
As I broke into a run, fear consumed me, and though I'd been told I was immortal, I'd never tested the truth of it, and no matter my earlier thoughts, I wasn't ready to find out now.
# # #
I'd only made it a few hundred yards before I was forced to slow, the moss-covered limbs creating a thick wall of no-escape. As the scent of damp rot hung in the air, surrounding me, small sprinkles of precipitation fell about my head and shoulders, my movements having shaken the moisture loose of the shelter they'd attained within the moss and leaves of the trees.
With a shift, I let my dress slip from my shoulders and to the floor, revealing the lingerie beneath. Nathan's eyes darken, as closing the small distance between us, his lips claim mine in a possessive kiss, his tongue tangling with mine, both hungry and tender. Then, slowly, oh so tantalizingly slowly, he backs me toward the bed, his kisses travelling down my neck, across my collarbone, before they move lower still... FBI Agent Brianna Hart had always wanted Nathan Pierce, and for several years they were lovers, but circumstances forced them apart. When Brianna returns to her former job within the FBI, she finds Nathan has married. When he once again becomes her team leader within the FBI, Brianna tries to maintain a professional relationship with Nathan. But after a tragic accident takes the life of Nathan's wife and unborn child, Nathan seeks solace within Brianna's arms. Old feelings flare to life between them as they delve into the world of a sadistic serial killer. Both struggle with their undeniable sexual attraction between them. Brianna's heart is torn over her love and need for the newly widowed Nathan, while he grapples with the loss of his family and his re-awakened feelings for a woman he never quite let go of.
With my fingers gliding across his flesh, I kept contact as I moved around to his back and across the broad expanse between each shoulder, afterward, I ran my fingers in a soft caress over the nape of his neck-God, how I'd always wanted to touch him in this way-and then began making my way over to the opposite shoulder, shortly coming around to his collarbone. Afterward, with a pivot of my fingertips, and practiced turns of my feet, I came a full one hundred and eighty degrees, facing him again. As I gazed into his eyes, my breathing increased, and I felt myself give a small pant as I moved my fingers down to his chest. Then, without so much as a pause in my actions, I lowered myself toward the floor. ******* Torin-Shattered:Way down we Go - A heart-wrenching tango of love, loss, and redemption unfolds as Marlowe Mills, the daughter of the president of the Sons of Morning Star MC, is unwittingly ensnared by Torin Montero, a member of her father's gang, who becomes her fathers rival and her silent protector. Their love, a secret flame in the shadows, is torn apart by the roar of a brutal betrayal. When the embers of their past ignite once more, Marlowe finds herself in the treacherous embrace of a Mob boss's son, entangled in a web of obsession and danger. But fate has a twist in store: Torin lives, scarred and driven by his own vendetta. As the lines between love and vengeance blur, Marlowe must choose between the comfort of the shadows or the tumultuous dance of destiny. Will she embrace love that's been reborn from the ashes, or succumb to the seductive whispers of power and temptation? This is a sizzling narrative of passion, deceit, and the indomitable human spirit, as Marlowe and Torin fight to reclaim what was stolen from them amidst the roar of engines and the whispers of a love that refuses to be silenced.
From the age of fifteen Rylee Cody has been receiving visions of a psychopath's victims. Choosing a career as a crime scene investigator she hopes to catch the person responsible for the horrible visions. Fatally injured during an investigation, her heart stops during surgery, but even death didn't keep her visionary from invading her mind again. When she is brought back from the other side, she has one intent; the visionary's own death.
"Then let's get a divorce!" With courage, Leora left her husband's house, after being accused of poisoning his mistress. Her in-laws and sister-in-law had planned various ways to kick her out of Peter's house and in the end Leora gave in. However, no one expected that things would turn 180 degrees after the divorce. When everyone who had hurt her was happy with each other's lies, Leora returned. This time, she was no longer the poor orphan girl from the orphanage. She has changed and not only that, she also carries a big secret that will make everyone turn to worship her feet.
Dear readers, this book has resumed daily updates. It took Sabrina three whole years to realize that her husband, Tyrone didn't have a heart. He was the coldest and most indifferent man she had ever met. He never smiled at her, let alone treated her like his wife. To make matters worse, the return of the woman he had eyes for brought Sabrina nothing but divorce papers. Sabrina's heart broke. Hoping that there was still a chance for them to work on their marriage, she asked, "Quick question,Tyrone. Would you still divorce me if I told you that I was pregnant?" "Absolutely!" he responded. Realizing that she didn't mean shit to him, Sabrina decided to let go. She signed the divorce agreement while lying on her sickbed with a broken heart. Surprisingly, that wasn't the end for the couple. It was as if scales fell off Tyrone's eyes after she signed the divorce agreement. The once so heartless man groveled at her bedside and pleaded, "Sabrina, I made a big mistake. Please don't divorce me. I promise to change." Sabrina smiled weakly, not knowing what to do...
"I, Sophia Addison, of the Crescent Moon Pack, deny your rejection, Jacob Carter." I smiled triumphantly at him and he just glared at me. I can hear loud gasps and whispers throughout the place. They cannot believe that their goody-two-shoes of a senior year president is rejecting me in front of everybody. What goody-two-shoes? More like a two faced jerk! That is why, here I am, denying his rejection. Oh well, I refuse to suffer alone. So...let us both suffer together my dear mate.
For two years, Ashton had poured his heart into his marriage, yet Emalee's heart remained cold. Despite his dedication, Emalee presented him with divorce papers. She bluntly stated she could not remain married to a man whose net worth was less than a million dollars. Ashton signed the papers, closing one chapter of his life and stepping into a new beginning. Then, Ashton revealed his secret identities: a music mogul, a medical expert, and a martial arts master—each persona impressive enough to stun the world. As Ashton’s true capabilities came to light, Emalee was overwhelmed with deep regret.
Kallie, a mute who had been ignored by her husband for five years since their wedding, also suffered the loss of her pregnancy due to her cruel mother-in-law. After the divorce, she learned that her ex-husband had quickly gotten engaged to the woman he truly loved. Holding her slightly rounded belly, she realized that he had never really cared for her. Determined, she left him behind, treating him as a stranger. Yet, after she left, he scoured the globe in search of her. When their paths crossed once more, Kallie had already found new happiness. For the first time, he pleaded humbly, "Please don't leave me..." But Kallie's response was firm and dismissive, cutting through any lingering ties. "Get lost!"
After three loveless years, Neil's betrayal deeply wounded Katelyn. She wasted no time in getting rid of that scoundrel! After the divorce, she devoted herself to career pursuits. Rising to prominence as a top designer, skilled doctor, and brilliant hacker, she became a revered icon. Neil, realizing his grave mistake, tried in vain to win her back, only to witness her magnificent wedding to another. As their vows were broadcast on the world's largest billboard, Vincent slid a ring onto Katelyn's finger and declared, "Katelyn is now my wife, a priceless treasure. Let all who covet her beware!"