They had me in a deep hole, but sometimes light came in. It hurt.
I didn’t know how long I had been down here. It was warm now, and I smelled spring. I hated it. Time had the audacity to move on when my life had ended.
When I remembered how I’d felt after Tasmyn left me, I wanted to laugh. I’d thought that was pain, that was loss. That was nothing. That was a paper cut. A tiny splinter.
This was a gaping, sucking, constant wound that bled me day and night. When I could finally cry, I wept days and nights. I begged her to come back. I screamed to her in my mind, and then I kept silent, praying to hear her.
I was curled up in the bottom of my living grave when I felt something strike me. It was a knotted rope, dangling over my head. I groaned into the light.
“Grab it.” I didn’t recognize the voice, but I knew it was one of them. One of the people who’d been keeping me here for God only knew how long. I ignored the rope and rolled over.
The man standing at the top of the hole swore, and then I felt screaming pain in my arm as he landed on me with both feet. He gripped my other arm, the one he hadn’t landed on, yanking me up.
“Move,” he ordered. “We don’t have time to dick around.”
I stood blinking and disoriented as he tied the rope around my waist.
“Haul him up.” My body jerked toward the light, and every part of me wept inside. I went to black again, and when I opened my eyes, I was sprawled on the ground in the clearing.
“Keep him down until Mallory gets here. She wants to finish him off before Cara gets wind of it.”
The few people who stood around me were all part of Nathan’s in-group, I realized. I’d heard their voices from my hole. All had powers, all were part of whatever plan was going to wreck havoc on the world.
Not that I cared anymore. Let it all burn. Let it all go to hell.
As though I’d summoned it, someone from beyond my range of vision shouted out.
“Fire!”
There was confusion, as some people ran toward the lodge, others stayed near me, looking around in anger and impatience.
And then the trees began to fall. As though an invisible giant were stomping through the forest, they flattened, and I heard screams as flames consumed them, too. There was some kind of an explosion off in the distance. I smelled smoke and the acrid scent of rubber burning.
The ground began to shake, and behind me the lodge groaned. I heard the shattering of glass, the crash of a building falling. I wondered, in the still-functioning part of my brain, if the world were really ending. Earthquake, fire...yeah, it sounded about right.
The men standing near me screamed as the ground split open, knocking them off their feet. I didn’t move. I stayed where I was, lying on the dirt, waiting for the end to come, like I’d been waiting for months.
And then there was silence. Complete, utter, eerie lack of sound. No birds were chirping, no squirrels chattering, nothing.
So the end must be closer.
I closed my eyes, waiting.
Someone kicked my foot.
I squinted up, and blocking the sun from my eyes was a woman. Her skin was alabaster, her hair was a wild swirl of black and her eyes were the most vivid blue I’d ever seen.
“Hey. Rafe Brooks, right? I’m Nell Massler. I’m here to save your life.”
***
Coming Soon
Nell’s Story
FIRST THERE WAS blood. Then there was pain. And then there was fighting, and then, I thought, victory. Triumph, perhaps.
And then there was darkness, and in the darkness, there was peace. There was no sense of being or time, just darkness.
And then there was a light, and someone standing by the bed where I lay.
“Nell.”
She spoke, and I blinked, disoriented. My eyes could not focus on the woman addressing me.
“Don’t try to speak. You have been asleep for quite a long time, and you need to recover.”
She smiled, just slightly. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, I could see her more clearly. She had blonde hair so pale it was nearly white. It was pulled back from her face into a low twist. Her eyes were a vivid blue, and they met mine with interest.
“I’m Cathryn Whitmore. You don’t know me, but I promise, I’m a friend.”
My mind began to function again, and a few memories filtered back in. I sucked in a breath as scenes flitted across my brain.
Tasmyn. Marica.
Cathryn touched my hand as understanding flashed in her eyes. “Of course. Tasmyn is fine. You saved her, or at least you held off Marcia Lacusta until Tasmyn could save herself. She is well, I promise. I just saw her last week.”
I furrowed my forehead, and the movement felt odd, off, as if my body weren’t quite my own yet.
Marica. Where is she? What happened? Is she...gone?
“Yes.” Cathryn nodded, and it dawned on me that she was answering what I couldn’t say. I had some familiarity with that particular talent, though it wasn’t my own.
“Marica was taken into custody by the local police, and since those happened to be the police of King, she was sent away. Held in an institute for a short period of time, until someone from her own...ah...tribe came to take her home. She’s in Romania now, in the custody of her family.”
My heart beat just a little faster, thinking of my former teacher and the insanity I’d seen in her eyes. And trust me, I’m in a position to know madness.
“Please don’t be concerned about her. As far as we can tell, she won’t return to this country again. It seems, at this time, that she will remain, ah, confined, indefinitely.”
The way she talked piqued my curiosity, but before I could even form the thought. Cathryn was shaking her head.
“No, seeing the future is not my gift. You’ve already guessed what mine is, haven’t you? You’ve had a brush with it. No, I don’t know myself, but we have a precog at the Institute—let’s see, maybe you could call her a seer? And we have her check in on various people of interest from time to time, just to make sure everyone is where he should be. Or she should be.”
I blinked again. Everything was falling into place—my memories, where I thought I might be—but this girl was the one piece of the puzzle that didn’t make sense. Institute?
“There’s a lot of information we’ll give you once you’re ready to process it. For now, though, rest.” She glanced at the phone in her hand and muttered beneath her breath. “Damn. I’ve got to go catch a train.” She said it as though it were a communicable disease.
“Apparently I need a ‘vacation’.” The air quotes were implied by her tone. “At any rate, as I said, you need rest. There are people in place here to make sure everything you need is at your disposal. Your recovery will be rapid, though, and a friend of mine will be here, probably tomorrow, to meet with you. You’ll enjoy her. She will be tremendously helpful.”
Panic rose in me at the idea that this person, the one connection I had to the real world, was leaving.
She smiled a little and squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you again shortly. I don’t expect this vacation business to work out, and I promise, as soon as I’m back in Florida, we’ll be in touch.”
With that she turned and disappeared out the door, leaving me trembling and confused.
***
I’ve been waiting a long time to write Rafe’s book, and he’s been waiting, too. But it’s thanks to my readers who have asked me, persistently, when Rafe would finally have his story, that the book even exists. Thank you for falling in love with this character and giving him a chance to tell his tale. I hope it’s worthy of you.
None of my books would be possible, be as error-free as they are or as lovely as they are without the team of people who make me look good. Mandie Stevens, Amanda Long and Stacey Blake do it all, and I am so grateful.
Stephanie Nelson of Once Upon a Time Covers hit another homerun with Rafe.
To all the bloggers at Promotional Book Tours
who cheer me on and make me smile—thank you, with love.
The amazing ladies of Romantic Edge Books inspire, encourage and support me every day. Olivia Hardin, Mandie Stevens, Amanda Latzel, Melissa Lummis, C.G. Powell, Lola James, Stephanie Nelson and Liz Schulte--I love you all, and I’m ready for us to rock 2014. Shall we?
To all of my family, thank you for your patience and unending love. You make my life possible. Hugs, kisses and chocolate chip cookies all around.
***
Photo: Marilyn Bellinger
Tawdra Thompson Kandle lives in central Florida with her husband, children, cats and dog. She loves homeschooling, cooking, traveling and reading, not necessarily in that order. And yes, she has purple hair.
You can follow Tawdra here…
Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/AuthorTawdraKandle
Twitter:https://twitter.com/tawdra
Website: tawdrakandle.com
***
The King Series by Tawdra Kandle
Fearless
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The Posse by Tawdra Kandle
Best Served Cold by Tawdra Kandle
***
Meet the authors of Romantic Edge Books: Nine Authors Writer Romance with an Edge
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Undeniable Page 22