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, her stepbrother, 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, Brianna tries to maintain a professional relationship with Nathan. But after a tragic accident takes the life of Nathan's wife and unborn child, he 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 the undeniable sexual attraction between them. However, 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.
Kara Martin was known as Miss Perfect. She was a beauty with good personality and successful career. Unfortunately, her life changed at one night. She was accused of adultery, losing her job, and abandoned by her fiance. The arrogant man who slept with her did not want to take responsibility. He even threatened to kill her if they met again. What's worse, Kara was pregnant with twins and she chose to give birth to them. Four and a half years later, Kara returned to work at a large company. As the secretary, she would frequently face their notorious CEO. Kara thought it wouldn't be a problem, but as it turned out ... the CEO was the father of the twins!
It was supposed to be a marriage of convenience, but Carrie made the mistake of falling in love with Kristopher. When the time came that she needed him the most, her husband was in the company of another woman. Enough was enough. Carrie chose to divorce Kristopher and move on with her life. Only when she left did Kristopher realize how important she was to him. In the face of his ex-wife’s countless admirers, Kristopher offered her 20 million dollars and proposed a new deal. “Let’s get married again.”
Janice, the long-forgotten legitimate heiress, made her way back to her family, pouring her heart into winning their hearts. Yet, she had to relinquish her very identity, her academic credentials, and her creative works to her foster sister. In return for her sacrifices, she found no warmth, only deeper neglect. Resolute, Janice vowed to cut off all emotional bonds. Transformed, she now stood as a master of martial arts, adept in eight languages, an esteemed medical expert, and a celebrated designer. With newfound resolve, she declared, "From this day forward, no one in this family shall cross me."
"I've warned you from the beginning. Don't marry him, but you won't listen." She stood close to me and smiled with concern. "You are not a woman worthy of a man as handsome, rich, smart, and virile as Blaze." My whole body trembled at her words. "Have you no shame?" I asked in a quivering voice. "Take a good look at yourself, Heather." She looked at me in the mirror. "You can't even look at your ugly face. Do you think Blaze can endure a lifetime of looking at that face?" Heather Bailey had a surprise from her husband that night: a divorce agreement. After a year of marriage and facing ups and downs, she couldn't believe Blaze intended to divorce her. But she was devastated when she saw him gazing lovingly at another woman because that person was closest to her. Shortly after she put her signature on their divorce papers, shock waves caught her up. Her flower shop was severely burnt, beyond repair. Her father's company collapsed, and her parents blamed her. She struggled to rebuild her life from the ground up and became more successful than ever. Having many customers who came from influential families, she started her action against Blaze. She won the very thing he wanted. But that was just the beginning.
After three secretive years of marriage, Eliana never met her enigmatic husband until she was served with divorce papers and learned of his extravagant pursuit of another. She snapped back to reality and secured a divorce. Thereafter, Eliana unveiled her various personas: an esteemed doctor, legendary secret agent, master hacker, celebrated designer, adept race car driver, and distinguished scientist. As her diverse talents became known, her ex-husband was consumed by remorse. Desperately, he pleaded, "Eliana, give me another chance! All my properties, even my life, are yours."
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!"