Deacon hops up. “What the hell? I knew Lily was too good for that dipshit.” He stands in front of Cal. “Please tell me you hit him.”
Cal looks over at his brother. “Believe me, I wanted to. And it took considerable restraint not to knock that asshole off his feet. But I couldn’t make a scene and draw attention to the fact that the son of the famous D.A. Garcia was a cheating slimeball. Lily doesn’t need that crap.” He looks sheepishly at Ari.
Deacon looks like he’s struggling to accept that logic. “Please tell me you did something!”
Cal nods. “I told him he had two days to break things off with Lily. I told him I didn’t care what he told her once he let her down gently. I made it clear that if he didn’t do it, then I’d have no choice but to tell her the truth. I said if he ever cared for her at all, he wouldn’t want to hurt her any more than was necessary.”
“What’d he say?” I ask.
“Asshole tried to protest that he really loved her.” Ari places a reassuring hand on Cal’s shoulder, and he immediately pulls her into his side.
“What then?” Deacon asks.
“Then I hit him.”
Deacon high-fives Cal. “Respect, bro.”
“Deacon, that is not something to look up to. Cal should have shown more restraint. We’re lucky the D.A. wants to sweep all this under the carpet, or he’d more than likely be facing charges,” Ari says.
“Ariana is right,” Cal tells him, “But I’m still glad I nailed the bastard. He deserved it for treating Lily with such little respect. I still want to kick him six ways to Sunday whenever I think of how he led her on.”
“How on earth does a guy live a lie for a whole year?” I ask, shaking my head in disbelief.
Everyone is silent until Deacon speaks up. “It’s actually far easier than you think,” he admits quietly. Draining his beer, he walks back inside without another word.
It’s ten minutes to midnight, and the kids are safely tucked up in bed, while most everyone else has retired for the night by now. Cal, Ari, Mom, and Nate are conversing quietly in front of the fire. I tiptoe to the couch and take a long, luxurious look at my gorgeous sleeping wife. I hate to wake her, but I can’t let today pass without sneaking a kiss under the mistletoe.
Snuggling into her side, I trail delicate kisses over her cheek and neck, and she stirs. My lips still. “Mmm. Why’d you stop?” she murmurs sleepily.
I chuckle. “Open your eyes.”
Her eyelids flutter open, and she smiles dreamily at me. I pull the branch over our heads and lean in. “I can’t let today pass without kissing my beautiful baby mama.” Her finger traces the line of my jaw and I sigh contentedly. “Pucker up.” She laughs and the sound fills my heart with so much joy.
As I press my mouth to her lips, I savor the familiarity of her taste and her warmth and the unflinching loyalty of her love. My arms hold her tight to me as I deepen the kiss and pour every ounce of love I feel for her into each brush of my lips.
And I make a silent promise to myself as I cradle her in my embrace. To always find time at Christmas to cherish her under the mistletoe.
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LILY’S REDEMPTION (The Skyee Siblings #1)
Subscribe to my special reader review team here to claim an advance, free copy of Lily’s Redemption, Book 1 in The Skyee Siblings, a New Adult spin-off series to True Calling.
“The heir to the Lux series.”
“The X-Files meets Twilight and blows them both away!”
THE TRUTH DOESN’T ALWAYS SET YOU FREE
I’ve fallen hard for an alien, but he’s harboring secrets.
Massive secrets that threaten the very essence of humanity.
How can I give him my heart when his race plans on taking my future?
Sadie Owens has been slowly dying inside. Bit by bit, piece by piece, day by day. Trapped in a life she hates, she relies on only one person—herself.
Despised by her family and betrayed by an unscrupulous government, Sadie dreams of a different life. When she is chosen to participate in the government’s new social experiment, she is ecstatic at the prospect of spending six months in Thalassic City, the shiny new city under the sea.
Immediately drawn to Logan Chandler, Sadie is captivated by the beautiful boy with the ocean-blue eyes. Logan seems to embody everything that has been forbidden, but he isn’t all he appears to be.
Confused over Logan’s true intentions and concerned when best friend Jenna starts transforming in front of her eyes, Sadie partners with newcomer Jarod in a bid to uncover the government’s real agenda. The truth is more shocking than anything she could ever have imagined.
When Sadie finally understands why the Saven walk among us, will it be too late to save her heart and the human race?
TURN THE PAGE TO READ A SAMPLE OF SAVEN DECEPTION.
SAVEN: DECEPTION SAMPLE
Prologue
Dr. Evana Taylor locked her office door and walked briskly out of the building. Tugging the collar of her brown cashmere coat up over the nape of her neck, she strode across the empty parking lot, the wind whipping her long copper-colored hair in a mass of tangles all over her face.
Though it wasn’t yet November, the cold weather had arrived with a bang. The icy layer snaking through the dark night air slapped her skin as brutally as a punch to the face. Wincing, she picked up speed and walked with renewed vigor, desperate for the warmth and safety of her car.
Her thoughts flipped to her husband and she sighed. Her recurring tardiness angered him. It was becoming more of a regular occurrence as her client list grew, and she sensed his mounting frustration. Since she had received the coveted NextGen Psychologist Award, she was in high demand. Her research on cognitive behavioral therapy continued to win her numerous accolades, and she was cresting a wave she’d only ever dreamed about.
This was her once-in-a-lifetime chance to develop the type of career she’d always desired and an opportunity to build a nest egg that would secure her family’s future. Although it required personal sacrifices—most of which she was willing to make—she deplored missing her son’s bedtime. Peeking at her watch, she sighed loudly. She would have to wait until morning now to see her little Glenn.
An ominous sense of foreboding swept over Evana and she instinctually glanced over her shoulder. The Psychiatric Facility was bathed in eerie darkness; the only visible light a dim glow from the small security desk in the front lobby. Shaking off her paranoia, she picked up her pace and strode with purpose toward her car.
A monstrous gust of wind swept the length of the lot, and tiny hairs rose to attention on the back of her neck. Inexplicable fear sent her heart rate skyrocketing as blood stampeded through her veins. In her haste to reach her car, Evana tripped over her feet and took a tumble. Silently cursing, she pushed off her hands as a blinding ray of light immersed her form on the ground.
Shielding her eyes, she looked up and froze. An icy tremor ripped up and down her spine as her body became weightless, and she began to float off the ground. She tried resisting the pull, but her muscles stubbornly refused to cooperate. She opened her mouth to scream, but her vocal cords were paralyzed, and the scream lay dying on her tongue. Trapped within herself, she had no way to release her panic.
As she ascended, she fought the urge to close her eyes. But her lids grew heavy and cumbersome, and eventually darkness swooped in and laid claim to her.
Heat radiated underneath Evana’s body, and she was cocooned in a heady sensation that feathered skin deep. A steady thrumming sound reverberated around her, and the gentle swaying motion of her surroundings, combined with the pleasurable warmth, enveloped her in a heavenly blanket. A satisfied moan escaped her lips.
“She is conscious,” a voice said in a lilting, heavily accented tone. Evana’s heart slammed against her ribcage as renewed panic set in. Parking lot. Lights. Body fl
oating upward. Too afraid to open her eyes and confront reality, Evana prayed, as she’d never prayed before in her life.
“Dr. Taylor,” a strange voice said, “open your eyes.” Her eyes fluttered open upon his command despite her reluctance and fear.
A man and woman loomed over her, scrutinizing her as if she was a mutant insect or a science experiment gone wrong. Anxiety prickled underneath the surface of her skin, but she was immediately drawn to the man, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
He was tall—well over six foot—and in his early forties, if she had to hazard a guess. His jet-black hair was graying at the temples, and fine silver lines weaved an artistic path across his head. It gave him a distinguished look, a regal presence, as if he was a member of old royalty or some lauded dynasty. The curve of his taut jawline and the smooth even lines of his skin revealed a face that was remarkably well preserved for a man of his years. Frowning, she wondered if her initial assessment of his age was wide of the mark.
One thing she was sure of: He was the most beautiful man she’d ever met. Mesmerized, she couldn’t look away.
That assessment held until she zeroed in on his eyes, which were a startling azure blue at first glance. Upon closer inspection, she spotted the cold, harsh, inhumane glare lying underneath. His eyes scanned the line of her body with barely contained disgust, and she shivered despite the warm blanket of air encasing her on all sides. When his eyes fixed on hers, she drew in a sharp gasp at the blatant hostility reflected in his stare.
Outwardly, he may look like a man, but she knew, deep down inside, he wasn’t human.
Terror spiked inside her, yet strangely, she found herself taking his offered hand and swinging her legs off the elevated bed.
“We’re so glad you could join us, Doctor,” he said in that weird intonation, his words clearly at odds with his chilling facial expression. He made it sound like she’d accepted a formal dinner invite when this was a clinical case of alien abduction. Fear battled with acceptance in her mind as she placed one foot in front of the other.
She walked alongside him, the woman trailing at their heels. He led her down a sleek passageway and brought her into a huge room, which appeared to be a personal chamber of sorts. Only then did Evana heed her surroundings.
Large tinted glass windows rimmed the perimeter of the room on all sides, granting her a breath-stealing front row seat. Earth was clearly visible in the frame, like a gigantic circular blue ball with sporadic green and white streaks crisscrossing the circumference. Stars twinkled and sparkled against the inky black backdrop of outer space.
She stumbled clumsily as the reality of the situation hit her full force. The man slung an arm around her waist and steadied her. “Take a seat.”
She slumped down on the narrow couch.
The woman moved her hand in a graceful sweeping motion, and a holographic screen materialized in the space in front of them. Evana tried to swallow her fear at the displayed image of her husband and son. Failing, she let out a strangled cry.
“Cooperate and they will come to no harm. Refuse and you will never see them again.” The woman spoke without any trace of emotion, any hint of hesitation.
“What do you want from me?” Evana asked in a shaky voice.
“We require your psychological expertise,” the man responded.
“For what purpose?” Wrapping her arms around herself, Evana fought to stave off the violent trembling taking hold of her.
“We need you to train us how to behave like humans. How to emulate their actions and thought processes.”
“Why?” Evana asked the question though she dreaded the reply.
“Because, when the time comes, we want to blend in without detection.”
A messy ball of emotion pressed down on Evana’s chest as his words sunk in. Staring at the image of her husband and son, a single tear slid down her cheek. An amused grin tugged up the corners of his mouth.
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”
He shook his head.
She paused considerably before responding. Knowing she was making a deal with the devil, she also understood she was damned no matter what choice she made. “Okay.”
“Perfect.” He rose to his full height. “Leave us, Leandra.” He dismissed the woman with a disrespectful wave of his hand.
“My king.” She bowed at the waist.
As she walked out of the room, she threw a scathing look at Evana. It was a look loaded with vengeful promise. Evana’s whole body shuddered as repressed fear surged into every cell, every tissue, every nerve ending.
“This way,” the king said, gesturing with his hand. “Let me introduce you to your students.”
CHAPTER 1
The stench of stale sweat, unwashed skin, and rancid body odor assaults my nostrils and I gag. The temperature in the carriage must be pushing ninety degrees, and a steady line of sweat coasts down my spine, gluing my shirt to my back. A craving to crawl out of my skin hits me like a bullet to the chest.
It’s not a new sentiment. It’s an urge I feel at least once every hour.
A potent desire to be anyone but myself.
To live any life but this one.
Heat rolls off the large body behind me, and the man grunts. The desire to shed my skin accelerates, and I shudder uncontrollably. Everywhere I look, I’m confronted by a sea of grimy bodies in dirty, sweat-encrusted work clothes. Being short sucks almost all the time, but being stuck in the middle of an overcrowded, bursting-at-the-seams subway carriage, during one of the hottest heat waves New York has known, sucks butt on a stratospheric level, and has me cursing the genes that stalled my growth at five feet one.
Claustrophobia swoops in, surrounding me in an anxiety-laced cloud. I know I’ve reaching my tipping point.
I can’t bear this a second longer.
With my lungs screaming for air, I push my way forward and fling myself out onto the platform in the nick of time. The train eases out of the station as my legs make a break for freedom. I bound up the stairs two at a time, my entire being straining for release.
Bursting out of the station gate, I slow my pace, and my breathing returns to normal. I set out in a westerly direction. The setting sun leaves a dull orangey-red trail in its wake as it rapidly falls in the advancing nighttime sky. Nevertheless, it’s still hot as hell.
My eye flits to the holographic Commi-Reel projected in the sky against the backdrop of the fading day, and I shriek when I spot the time. Dammit! I’m going to be late. If I breach curfew again, that will make it three times this month.
My parents will literally kill me.
My body clearly understands the criticality of the situation as my legs move of their own accord, and I start pounding the pavement.
High-rise residential blocks encroach on all sides as I run. The tall, gray concrete slab constructions fill the skies as far as my eyes can see. Intermittent, drab storefronts are the only break in the monotony of my surroundings. Each Sector mirrors the previous one. Dense, thick smog fills the air and I splutter at regular intervals as my lungs claw for something clean and fresh to inhale.
There isn’t a sinner in sight.
Of course, there isn’t.
Most of them are already crammed into their boxy apartments or en route home via the sweaty death trap they call a subway. A rapid-transit high-velocity transportation system has been in operation in the Core and Midi Circles since before my birth, but here in the Outer Circle, we have to resort to using the old New York subway system despite the safety risks and considerable concerns.
Last year’s massive subway crash cost thousands of lives, but the government stubbornly refuses to extend the Velo network to the Outer Sectors. Lack of finances was spouted. A likely story. Irrespective of protests to the contrary, the lower classes are more than expendable and don’t we know it. I’d bet my miserable life the government arranged the crash themselves.
That’s one unique way of tackling the mounting overpopulation crisis.
I round the corner into Sector Seventeen. Three more to go but my legs already ache. Squinting up at the Commi-Reel, I clock the time and mentally calculate the distance. Twenty-four minutes until curfew. Two miles to run. If I can maintain this pace, I might make it. If I’m lucky.
But Mother Luck never shines on me.
Wiping my hand across my moist forehead, I stumble sideways as my body slams full force into an Imposer. Landing unceremoniously on my ass, I wince as a dart of pain shoots up my spine.
A metallic hand is extended and I’m pulled to my feet. “Wrist, please,” he commands. This one talks in a human voice, so I know he’s part of the Robo-Police force—part-human, part-robot, and not one of the pure cloned kind.
Flipping my arm, I reluctantly obey, thrusting my wrist upward as the Imposer scans my skin. “Sadie Owens. Seventeen years of age. Sector Fourteen. Medi-Tech employee number 133779. It’s twenty-three minutes to curfew. What are you doing out on the streets?”
I’m reluctantly impressed. He said all that without drawing a breath. “Um, I … I felt sick,” I lie, glancing at the dwindling time ticking away on the digital clock. I need to get out of here and fast. “So I had to get off the subway and make it home on foot.”
“Two infractions already this month.” He scans the holographic report skimming over the film of his eyes. “Don’t make it a third. Move on.”
True Calling: The Short Story Collection Page 6