He pulled back slightly. “You didn’t?”
I shook my head.
He gave me his pirate smile. “Who has the power now?”
I sat up, pushing to the side of him, but he stayed where he was. “Don’t get yourself in a fluster. This was bound to happen.”
“But we are not bound,” I said. “The bond no longer exists.”
I’d made sure of it. We had several schools where anyone could learn elemental weaving. Jett headed the department.
“Are you sure about that?” he said, smiling.
“Well,” I said. “No. No I’m not.”
I couldn’t hear his thoughts unless he sent them to me. This was not fair.
“Don’t blame me. It’s not my fault.”
I pushed him away, but he grabbed my wrists, hauling me closer to him. All humor had gone from his expression. “Don’t you trust me?”
I molded my hand to his cheek. “Of course I do, it’s just that—”
“You wanted some privacy?”
“Yeah! It shouldn’t be too much to ask for.”
“Rayla, just because I can do something doesn’t mean I will. You should know that about me by now.”
“It’s not like we’ve been together for that long,” I said, stiffening.
He chuckled, tipping my hand toward his mouth. One by one, he kissed the tips of my fingers. “You are the one that keeps insisting that whatever happens is meant to be.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No buts. You’re mine and always will be, and this is a great way for me to be able to keep track of you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Shut up.”
“What did you just say to me?”
“You talk too much. I know you want to argue for hours so we can make up later, but I have a proposition for you.”
“Yeah,” I said, way more interested than I should have allowed myself to be.
“Let’s say you won and skip to the good stuff now. Even if I have all night to love you, it won’t be long enough. It will never be long enough.”
“Good thing you’re pretty much stuck with me. You should know that when we have kids, things will change. I’ll be a mother and you’ll be a father.”
He stiffened, but his eyes were bright, not dark. “Do you really think it’s possible?”
“Yep,” I said, believing with all my heart it was true.
He pulled me beside him on the bed, settling himself over me. His eyes softened. “Well, then, we’d best get started.”
I laughed. “It would be nice to have at least a little time with you.”
“Time we have plenty of. I want more of you. I want all of you. I want you.” He smiled, his gaze traveling over me. “Rayla Tate, it will be my utmost pleasure to get you with child.”
“Shut up,” I said and he frowned at me. I pulled his face toward mine, but before our lips touched, I added. “You talk too much.”
THE END (KIND OF)
A message from the author:
I hope you enjoyed reading HORIZON as much as I enjoyed writing it. As an independent author, getting the word out about my book is vital to its success, so if you liked Elemental Enmity please consider telling your friends and writing a review of the books at the store where you purchased them.
If you would like to be contacted when I release a new book please send an email to [email protected] with New Releases in the title and I will add you to my New Releases list. You will only be contacted when I have a new book out.
As you can see I am not finished with this Elemental world. I will be working on other books based in this world and perhaps a few prequels to Elemental Enmity. My next series will be Netherworld. Keep reading for a sneak peek. I’m really excited about this one and I hope you are too after reading the sample.
Other books by Christie Rich
Five (Elemental Enmity Book I)
Dark Matter (Elemental Enmity Book II)
Genesis (Elemental Enmity Book III)
How To Contact Christie Rich (I love hearing from readers):
Blog: http://christierich.blogspot.com/
Email: [email protected]
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Chapter One
Seth
Not much surprises me anymore.
This girl does.
She is delicate in every sense of the word except in her bold stare. Instead of cowering in the corner pleading for her life, she hugs her knees to her chest and watches me.
I watch her in return, wondering if she could be my salvation. After a long while she lowers her face, not out of fear or rage; it is indifference I catch in her smoky green eyes.
What is even more interesting is no recognition toward me lingers in her expression, although this girl has seen me every night for the past few years. To be fair to her, she did not see me in my true form, but I somehow imagined she would recognize my energy.
Despite the calm exterior she presents to me, her heart thuds against her chest like a bird trapped in a cage. I stare, fascinated, as a single drop of sweat escapes her dark hair and traces a line down her forehead—the only outward hint of her reaction to her fiery surroundings, or is it to me?
She is beautiful—the most beautiful of those I had to choose from. If I am being honest, it is the main reason I have called her here; yet, something about her draws me nearer that has nothing to do with the fine outward shell she dons. Even in her dreams she was extraordinary.
Unfortunately dreams do not always represent well the dreamer. I never truly know who I have until they are in my domain. Pink lips move, but nothing comes out. I imagine her voice is as sweet as those lips muttering incomprehensible phrases.
Is she praying to a god that cannot hear her in this place? Is she saying goodbye to loved ones?
I shake my head. Impossible. She has no one. Another reason she is here with me.
Her body tenses when I step closer. Finally, I make out her words: Wake up.
I smile. She thinks she is dreaming still.
I can have fun with this. Fun does not come easily to the keeper of the Netherworld.
When I’m two feet away she shifts back and thrusts out a shaking hand. She finally speaks, and I am rewarded. Her voice is the sweetest sound that could ever exist, although her words are a harsh command.
“Stop!” she says.
I don’t.
She scrambles backward and jumps to her feet, facing me in a fighting stance. With the stealth of a cat she rocks to her toes and shifts her upper body as if for a quick escape. Eyes wild, body coiled, she might as well be hissing at me.
I want to laugh. There is no escape from hell.
Disregarding my impulses, I let her thoughts congeal before I destroy her hopes. The giant pendulum behind me punctuates the sound of her pulse. Schwoosh plunk, schwoosh plunk…the sound usually soothes me, but in this moment I cannot countenance another schwoosh.
She has to see this is real; I only have until morning to make her mine, and I have wasted enough time as it is hoping to calm her before I shatter the foundations of her existence.
Working to still my breath, my senses heighten, slowing time. She is not ready for my fake, and I easily catch her wrists before she can bypass me. She kicks at my shins and I let her momentum topple us over. Her eyes fly wide while we fall toward the carpet, and I know she expects pain from me. I eat her fear like a fine brulee, savoring each moment.
The instant we crash to the floor, she struggles to get away. Her scent surrounds me, intoxicating me, threatening to steal my focus. It’s been too long since I’ve held a woman in my arms. “There is no escape,” I tell her. If there were I would not be here.
For the briefe
st of moments our gazes merge. She swallows, her eyes searching mine as if she is trying to see my core. My muscles harden in anticipation of what she will do next. Even though I would never admit it, the next words she utters cut me to the soul.
“You’re a nightmare,” she insists. “You can’t hurt me.”
I hear the desperation in my voice; however, stopping my impetuous reply is impossible. “Nightmare I may be, yet I assure you I am as real as the blood that flows in your veins.”
Doubt flickers across her face. She still does not believe this is her new reality. I glance over my shoulder toward the fiery pit that abuts this room with no end—my prison.
My punishment.
Flames burst forth at my bidding, rushing toward us. She gasps, and I see the moment she feels the heat. I take pleasure in her realization and let it go too far. The inferno consumes the carpet, the sofa, even my prized hound succumbs.
She is unaware everything will reappear at my command—everything except her. Her expression morphs into one of utter terror. My own terror rises as a fierce cry escapes her throat. A few seconds more will find me holding a pile of ash.
The instant I sever my connection with the flames, they plummet into the abyss until the next time I call them. My blood freezes in my veins. Why have I done this?
Her voice rushes out in a gust. “What are you?”
I should be used to this question, yet it pierces my heart. A muscle in my jaw jumps, and so does she. “I am the darkness, and you are now mine.”
Amelia
A shudder finds me as I lie in the darkness remembering the last thing he said to me before he plopped me on his bed and left through the only door in this massive room.
He thinks he is the darkness.
No doubt he’s a monster, yet the world has never seen a more beautiful horror. Neither have I. An angel pales in his shadow—with his dirty blond hair, blue eyes that are deep as the darkest ocean one second then the next the color of a summer sky, combined with his strong jaw and towering height, he should grace the cover of a fashion magazine.
Yet in those eyes I see my death. I’ve been telling myself to wake up for hours. Unfortunately, the burn that covers the majority of my left arm keeps me from sleeping. Where his body shielded mine, the flames didn’t touch, but the rest of me aches from the contact. I’ve had worse sunburns, really, but it’s the idea of his actions as much as the pain that freaks me out.
I still don’t know what he is or, worse, what he wants from me. I have to find a way out of here. I have to find a way to escape him.
The light flashes on. My eyes squint in response. Not waiting for him to speak, I spin toward the wall even though his quiet approach tells me there’s no way he’s gonna leave me alone. A soft touch hesitates then rests on my shoulder. I shrug it away as if it’s acid.
His grunt makes my muscles bunch. If he were an ordinary man I might have a chance in combat. I’m quick when I need to be—even held my own with some of the roughest thugs in Seattle, Vegas, and recently the hopping metropolis of Provo, Utah. The mountains are stunning, but the nightlife could use some work.
Justine used to say, “Stay sharp, kid. No one knows when their time’s up.” Well, she sure didn’t. Justine was my grandma. She died last month at only fifty-eight.
I miss her fiercely. If she were here, she’d tell me to get over it, so I’m trying.
Thank my lucky stars she waited until I got my diploma to ditch me; although, I’m not quite sure how it’ll help me now. I still have no idea where I am, and it’s starting to worry me. No one’s gonna care if this psycho keeps me for the rest of my life or slits my throat.
I’m alone in this world.
My mom only made it to twenty-one before she overdosed on crack. My dad lasted to a ripe old age of thirty. He got killed by a rival gang when I was twelve. I never saw him anyway, so my life hasn’t been much different since he bit it.
Justine was my ticket to normal, and she left me with no money, no prospects—unless you count the hazy offer I got from Roberto.
I used to hang out with him when I had nothing else to do. He graciously asked me to share his pad under the viaduct when I told him the news. I gave him a swift “no thank you” even though I should have told him not even if I weren’t half his age and he had most of his teeth. I couldn’t hurt his feelings like that. He was nice enough, but seriously?
If I hadn’t just turned eighteen I might have found somewhere in the foster system to camp for a while. A grunt comes out of me even though I don’t want to make a sound. As horrible of a thought as it is, being here is probably better than wading through families until one stuck or I got kicked out.
My captor’s hand flits over my arm, rubbing in some sort of salve that takes the sting away but singes my nose. I would tell him thanks, but he did this to me so he doesn’t deserve it. My jaw clenches against the velvet strokes of his fingers. I’m gonna ignore his soft touch if it’s the last thing I do; there’s something seriously wrong with him.
His dark voice fills the room. “I—” His hesitation trips me up, and I almost turn around. Before I can move, though, he continues, “I hope you like it here.”
I face him in a nanosecond. “Did you really just say that to me? Hello, you seriously can’t be that wacko. I mean, come on. You stole me in the middle of the night and brought me to your lair like the freaking Phantom of the Opera then you set your living room on fire, torch your dog, not to mention almost me, just to make a point?
“Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I’m not one of those girls who thought Christine should have ended up with the Phantom, so you might as well let me go now. Save us both some trouble.”
He smiles, which makes me clench my jaw again. With a tight flick of his head, he motions toward the hallway. “You want to go?”
I jump to my feet, ignoring the sting of his hand sliding down my arm. I’ve seen weird. I’ve even seen freakish, but I’ve never seen something like him. “Where’s the front door?”
His thick brows hit his hairline. “Even if I could tell you that, you have nowhere to go.”
Strange answer. My mind flits over how much he knows about me, partly because I don’t want to acknowledge the shiver that travels over my skin, but mostly because I can’t believe he doesn’t even know how to get out of his own pad. I nod in his direction. “Exactly how long have you been stalking me?”
His eyes come alive, yet he gives me a casual shrug. “A while.”
I send him a disgusted frown. If I did find a way to ditch this place, would he find me again? “Don’t you know how creepy that is?”
A slow smile covers his mouth. “Creepy isn’t the worst thing to be.”
His world must totally suck.
I smack my lips together before I lock eyes with him. “So—are you ever going to tell me why you brought me here? I figure if you wanted to kill me I’d be dead.” I try not to let my hope or fear show in my eyes.
In the amount of time it takes me to process what he’s doing, he’s at my side. This sudden burst of speed sends panic to my veins, but his calm voice stills my pulse.
“I’ll tell you what. If you can find a way out, I’ll let you go.”
My heart stutters then speeds like a racecar toward the finish line. There has to be a way out—he came and got me for the love of bald eagles, and since he’s offering… “I’ll take that deal.”
He smirks a challenge at me. “Go ahead.”
I glide into the hallway puffing out my chest. Other than frying my arm, he hasn’t made a move to hurt me, so oddly enough I feel almost comfortable around him, like it’s okay to be myself. Besides, it’s just a matter of time before I discover the hidden latch to my freedom. He doesn’t know how tenacious I am. He’s also right behind me, and I’m hyper aware of his every move. We’ve got something weird going on between us, but heck if I know what it is.
I’m tempted to check his face to see if I’m headed the right way, but I keep my back t
o him. Flickering tapers settled into curly candelabras drape the space in a caramel glow. Although extremely cool, it’s not much light to go by, which, unfortunately, makes it twice as hard to see where this hallway leads. The super weird part is there are no other doors, just a dingy corridor that seems to stretch on forever. I stop to tug every one of the sconces, thinking one will give under the pressure. No such luck. I bristle at my captor’s dark laugh but keep going.
After a few minutes of getting nowhere, I sprint forward, running as fast as I can on the uneven surface. He follows behind me. His breathing is even while my lungs ache so bad I’m worried they might burst.
The hallway stretches forever in front of me like an endless highway to Nowheresville. One thing’s for certain: I’m getting nowhere, so I slam to a stop and bend over, sucking in wind.
This is the worst shape I’ve been in. I got kind of lazy when Justine took me in five years ago. At first, I made life pretty difficult for her, thinking she was just going to ditch me too. Wouldn’t you know it the minute I thought I’d have her forever is when she left me. Being with her was the only time I felt safe in my whole life. I should have known it wouldn’t last.
Psycho dude inches closer to me, and I snap up, facing him—the door is right behind us.
No way. There is no freaking way. I blink a couple times just to make sure my eyes are working right. When that yields the same result, I lower to my haunches to check the cobbled floor. If this thing’s a conveyor belt, I’m a red banana.
With as much composure as I can muster I say, “You’d better start giving me explanations, buddy. Why am I here? What is this place? Who are you? I don’t even know your freaking name!”
Deep blue eyes flit towards the door. When he looks up again, he holds out his hand.
Horizon Page 36