Strength (Mark of Nexus #1)
Page 1
Strength
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Praise
“Carrie Butler's Strength captivated me from page one. She created an amazingly unique world that drew me in until I was up way past my bedtime reading.”
~ Lynn Rush, author of Violet Midnight
“Carrie Butler has an amazingly unique voice as a writer that reads so naturally you forget you’re reading ... Butler doesn't try and put a new spin on Vampires or Werewolves. She invents her own world of secrets and superpowers. It's refreshing to read something with a new and creative plot in the paranormal romance genre ... I was literally carrying the book around with me everywhere. To my delight, it just kept getting better and better.”
~ Jessica Therrien, author of Oppression
“Carrie Butler’s debut novel is brilliant, riveting, imaginative and seamlessly written.”
~ Lisa Regan, author of Finding Claire Fletcher
“I love when a ‘bad guy’ has me feeling unsure about his ‘bad guy’ status. I won't say more, as to not give anything away, but Butler does a fabulous job walking this line.”
~ Kelley Lynn, author of Fraction of Stone
“I devoured this book in two days - staying up until the early hours because I didn't want to stop reading!” ~ Kyra Lennon, author of Game On
“I freaking loved every last word on every page.” ~ Scelest's Journal
“...This is Carrie Butler's debut novel, and I have to give her full praise for the way she writes. The characters really came alive for me, and I could totally 'hear' their voices. The storyline moves quickly, without any slow points, but isn't rushed. I was really hooked on this book from the very first pages.” ~ Read It, Reviewed It
MARK OF NEXUS BOOK 1
Strength
CARRIE BUTLER
Copyright © 2012 Carrie Butler
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the publisher.
Sapphire Star Publishing
www.sapphirestarpublishing.com
First Sapphire Star Publishing ebook edition, March 2013
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Names, characters, places, and plots are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN: 978-1-938404-36-8
Cover Image: Yuri Arcurs
This is a dpgroup exclusive.
Acknowledgements
First, a shout-out to God. Without Him, none of this would have been possible.
I would also like to thank:
My parents, whose unflinching love and support have always meant the world to me. I hope to one day be half as cool as you guys. My sister, who sparked my imagination by convincing me our living room was home to carpet-dwelling crocodiles; my brother-in-law, who helped me stay on target—round after round; my nephew, who provided the comic relief; and the rest of my family and friends who lent their support. You believed in me, even when I didn’t.
Amy Lichtenhan and Katie Henson, who led me by the hand from 2,000 miles away; the Sapphire Star Publishing family, who never ceases to amaze me; and the many editors, critique partners, and beta readers, who shared their time, knowledge, and feedback. You shaped Strength into the book that it is, and you’ll always be a part of it.
Dave Taylor, who suffers the beast; Melissa Maygrove, who shall henceforth be known as the Goddess of Grammar; Lisa Regan, who has waited over a year to sport her Team Wallace t-shirt; Nancy S. Thompson, whose candor makes me grin on a daily basis; Laura Callahan, who taught me how to count (chapters); Iain Carter, whose reactions are priceless; and two of Wallace’s first fangirls—Lindsay N. Currie and Trisha Leaver.
Last, but not least, high fives to the blogging community, my NA Alley sisters, and the #NALitChat crew!
Chapter One
I plastered myself flat against the wall, straining to distinguish footsteps from heart palpitations. He was close now; he had to be. My shoes gave a little squeak as rubber met linoleum, and I inched toward the corner. Come on...
For the millionth time since I’d gotten to the seventh floor, I had to wonder if coming up here was worth it. I mean, I hadn’t even been back on campus for twenty-four hours, and here I was—caught in a game of hide-and-seek with the madman. What did that say about my sanity?
I threw a quick glance over my shoulder.
Okay, so maybe this wasn’t the best time to consider it. Whether I liked it or not, I was halfway to his suite and I needed to stay under the radar.
“All right, Madman,” I muttered, peering around the edge. “Ready or not…”
It took two quick scans of the hallway for me to finally drop my shoulders and let out the breath I’d been holding. Thank God. Brave face or not, I would’ve shit my Vicki-Secrets had he actually been standing there. The guy gave me the creeps, and we’d never even met.
It wasn’t like I needed to see him to know his type. He was probably some scrawny little recluse in pedo-glasses, lurking around the dorm in one of those throwback tees from the ‘80s. Or at least, that’s how I pictured him.
See, word got around last semester that muffled screams and thuds were coming from this guy Wallace’s room every night—and not the kinky kind, either. He’d been isolated since his roommate went off the radar in September, and from what I’d heard, never had visitors. For all any of us knew, he’d built a torture chamber in there and smuggled his victims in at night. What were we supposed to think with all that noise?
Complaints were issued, but only resulted in a dorm-wide e-mail reminding everyone to be considerate of their neighbors during evening hours. God only knew how much of our tuition went into that brilliant solution. It had no effect whatsoever.
Fear threaded through the spreading rumors and wove the tapestry of our own, personal urban legend. Right here in freaking Wilcox, Ohio. By the time winter b
reak rolled around, the story had been stretched and pulled beyond all recognition. Believe me. I knew all too well how it started.
The reason I’d heard so much, and the reason I was braving the seventh floor at all, was Wallace’s next-door neighbor, Aiden—one of my very best friends. He’d been the one to tell my roommate, Gabby, and me about the commotion, long before it became public knowledge. We might’ve shared that story with a few friends, and...well, things snowballed from there.
I shook my head and stole another glance down the hallway. No use dwelling on it now. After being apart for a month, I wasn’t going to let a little anxiety keep me from checking in on Aiden. Not during the day, at least. It was time to get serious.
There had to be some way to get down the hall, through the suite door, and into Aiden’s room without attracting any unwanted attention. All things considered, the maneuver should’ve been easy. Auto-pilot.
Every suite in Reid Hall has the same formulaic layout—a common room with two double-occupancy bedrooms and an adjoining bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary there. I’d been in their common room more times than I could count, squirming and waiting for Aiden to answer the door. But it still managed to freak me out. Every. Time.
Waiting in their common room evokes a whole new level of awareness. Somehow, I always feel Wallace’s tunneled gaze as I stand there—his eye tracing my every move through the peephole. At any given moment, he could rip his door open, clamp a hand over my mouth, and drag me inside.
Rena Collins—another virgin sacrificed to the gods of campus chaos.
I wiped my hands on my pants and drew in a shaky breath. Okay, with that mindset, maybe I deserved to become a statistic. Idling here wasn’t going to make this any easier. If I didn’t rip off the Band-Aid, I’d lose my nerve.
Pulling my shoulders back, I lifted my chin and strode around the corner. It wasn’t like I’d taken those self-defense classes for nothing. If Wallace jumped out and tried anything, I’d give him a taste of my heat-seeking knee. The poor fool wouldn’t know what hit him.
I straightened my spine and took another step toward the door. Heh. Yeah. Maybe if someone actually stood up to—
Hinges creaked and something slammed into me full force. The impact burned my nose and forehead as the world tilted back in a sickening blur. It all happened so fast. I hadn’t even seen the door open.
And, just like that, everything stopped.
Something—no, someone—grabbed my shoulders in a death grip and steadied me on my feet. I lurched forward, struggling to right my balance, and found myself nose-to-chest with a stranger.
Damn, that hurt...
Concern tightened his features as he bent down and tried to meet my eyes. “Are you okay?”
My pulse protested, hammering in my ears. Was I okay? I opened my mouth to speak, but it was as if every word, every unintelligible utterance, had escaped me. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move. My breaths were way too shallow.
Was I having a panic attack?
His eyes narrowed, dark lashes obscuring an electrical storm of emotion. I’d never seen anything more caged—flickering and surging beneath the surface. Brooding cerulean one moment, hypnotic blue the next.
It was all I could do to suppress a shiver as the warmth of his breath danced over my skin, his scent clouding the air between us. God, it smelled so familiar, like the air before a downpour. I took a deep, shuddering breath and forced myself to look up.
Raven hues played across hair that’d been spiked without any obvious effort. Overlooking the lack of product, his haphazard style could’ve probably been described as a faux-hawk. If he cared enough to label it.
I shook my head, letting my gaze slip past the hardened planes of his expression. A silvery line stood out from the rough, morning stubble that peppered his jaw. I swallowed. A small part of me was intrigued beyond measure, but it was so foreign I couldn’t place it. Instead, I let a much more familiar emotion run rampant through my system, the one that’d been building for the past thirty seconds—panic.
“I-I...” I stammered, unable to form a coherent thought to save my life.
Something changed in his eyes, and for the briefest of seconds, I thought I caught a glimpse of hurt. Just like that, the spell had been broken. He tore himself away from me as if I’d burned him, straightening to his full height.
I hadn’t even realized I’d been leaning in until he pulled away, and I barely caught myself. Stupid. As I looked up to gauge his expression, I felt another jolt of alarm. The man towered over me in a way I wasn’t accustomed to. I mean, sure, at only five foot two, most people have a head on me, but I didn’t even come to his shoulder. He was—
Wait.
What was I doing? I’d been standing there, gawking, and had yet to utter anything resembling English. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how depraved I looked.
“Sorry,” he muttered in a low voice, catching me off guard.
“I-I, uh...no, it was my fault.” I took a step back, so I didn’t have to crane my neck. “My bad.” My bad? Who says that?
“No, I didn’t—” He seemed uncomfortable, looking past me. “Sorry.” Without another word of explanation, he edged around me, taking long strides down the hallway.
I blinked—not once, but twice—at his retreating form. Who was that guy?
And what the hell just happened?
I took my time, retracing my steps to the elevator. Aiden would just have to wait. I couldn’t face him like this, not after the embarrassing stutter-fest I’d had with his visitor. Since when did he have hot friends, anyway? He could’ve freakin’ warned me.
Mid-morning light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, tingling against my burning cheeks. In the few minutes I’d been gone, the sunlight had transformed last night’s dusting of snow into sparkling white glitter. The campus looked picturesque—a nice little postcard impression for the parents moving their kids back in.
It was what they were paying for, after all. Buildings, a mix of old and new, conforming to the same, brick standard. White columns and wide, cement staircases; modern lobbies and pretentious adornments. As the brochures say, a blend of tradition and innovation.
Without those things, or maybe because of those things, Wilcox is just another dot on the map—one of a dozen sleepy college towns in Ohio’s northeastern snowbelt. Houses are modest, crime is negligible, and football is a widely practiced religion. Not the most exciting place to live.
Unless, of course, you share a dorm with a madman.
I shook my head and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass. Jade eyes cringed and peered back, rimmed with exhaustion. I looked like crap.
I tried to run a hand through my hair and got caught in a tangle. The edgy layers had already dried into a blond haystack. Aiden’s friend probably thought I looked like some mangy, wet dog who’d wandered in off the street; or, at the very least, someone too lazy to dry her hair.
Great.
I heaved a sigh and forced myself to go call for an elevator. There was no use pressing my luck if I didn’t have to. The doors parted with a mechanical hiss, and I slipped inside.
Later, Madman.
With the press of a button, the car began its slow, grinding descent to the fourth floor. Gabby had been sprawled out, dead to the world, when I left, and I hoped to find her in the same, semi-conscious state. I wasn’t ready for her interrogation. Not yet.
The numbers lit in measured succession, and finally, the doors chimed open. I stepped out into the hallway, took a deep breath, and began to creep down the hall like a ninja. No interaction for me, thanks. Things to do, people to avoid.
Before anyone could notice me, I was already past the suite door. Why couldn’t I have been this stealthy upstairs? I fit my key into the lock and gave it a gentle twist, easing the door open. The TV was on, blaring a teaser of the news to follow at noon. Another drunk had been found beaten in Columbus. Surprise, surprise. Thank God I didn’t live in the capital—
“Girl, please tell me you did not leave the dorm with that hair.” Gabby looked up from her magazine, lifting one perfectly arched brow.
Crap.
“I just went to see if Aiden was back yet. What’re you doing up?”
She shrugged, fishing her hand around inside a box of Lucky Charms. “Eating.”
“Thanks. I would’ve missed that.” I crossed the room, rolling my aching shoulders.
She went back to mindlessly flipping through the magazine as she ate, collecting marshmallows in the crease. God only knew how she’d missed her mouth. “So, how was geek boy?”
“I didn’t get to see him.”
She paused and tilted her chin, probably half-listening. “Why?”
Childish as it was, there were times I hated the girl as much as I loved her. She was the only person I knew who could wear wrinkled pajamas and still look like an extra from a Gap commercial. Thin, without looking anorexic. Dark hair falling in waves around her shoulders. If the chick from “La Vida Loca” has skin the color of mocha, Gabby has skin the color of a caramel freakin’ macchiato. Her perma-tan makes me look like I’ve never seen the light of day.
I blew out a sigh and stretched my arms over my head. “I met this guy. Well, I didn’t meet him exactly. I just sort of—”
“In sweats?” I had her full attention now.
My lips pinched together. “Yeah?”
She slumped with an exhale. “Rena, we just came back after a month off. Everyone’s going to be between Christmas loneliness and Valentine’s Day desperation. Do you really want to be seen running around in sweatpants?”