by Carian Cole
He brushes his thumb across my lip, smiling when I lightly bite it.
"Let's go home and plan our honeymoon. I'm not sleeping on the couch this time. And you're wearing your dress again so I can rip it off you. And I want the gardener belt again, and one of those lace teddy bear things. And the magic lip balm. I want all the good stuff this time."
I can't stop laughing at him as he rattles off his list.
"What do you want?" he asks. "Rose petals? Champagne? Name it, it's yours."
"Just you and your smile. Forever. That's all I want."
He smiles and kisses my lips. "Consider it yours, jelly bean."
And they lived happily ever after…
The Real Talon & Asia
Once upon a time, I had a beautiful Norwegian Forest Cat, named Talon. I called him Tally or Tally-Ho for short, and he would always come running when I called him. Tally was a very regal kitty, with big, powerful paws, long, flowing fur, and a sweet, loving personality once he got to know you. When he was in an extra good mood, he would trill at me, like he was singing, and it was a beautiful, unique sound.
He loved to sit by the window and watch the leaves blow by and also steal the straws out of my iced coffee and hide them in the basement. I had to pretend I didn't know he was going to do this, because it wasn't fun if I just let him do it. :)
One day, I brought a little white, blue-eyed Birman kitten home. I named her Asia.
Talon wasn't happy about this at all at first and completely ignored her. He took all the kitten toys away from her and hid them in the basement with the rest of his treasures.
But Asia was enamored of Tally. She followed him everywhere, chasing his tail, jumping on his back, and waited until he fell asleep every night to quietly curl up against him and cuddle him.
Soon, Talon couldn't resist her charms anymore, and they became best friends. He shared his toys with her, and they slept cuddled up together every night. Sometimes they touched paws while they were sitting looking out the window. They did everything together. They watched the leaves together, they ate together, they played their own little game of tag. Sometimes they would have little fights, and Asia would go off and pout by herself, and Tally would wait a few hours and then go curl up with her, licking her face. And all was forgiven.
For ten years, they were inseparable. They had a bond like I've never seen in two cats before. They were like a little married couple. They ignored all the other cats in the house—only wanting each other.
Last year, my beautiful Talon started to have trouble breathing. It happened very suddenly, seemingly overnight. Asia sat by him, refusing to sleep, with a funny look on her face, and I knew—something was very wrong.
Tally had a tumor in his chest, pressing against his heart and lungs.
Inoperable. Terminal.
The doctor drained fluid from his chest, and Talon felt a little better, and we took him home to give him lots of love and chicken.
Asia cuddled him and rubbed her face against his and glued herself to him even more.
Unfortunately, the tumor grew quickly, and Tally began to struggle to breathe.
There was nothing we could do.
On the outside, he was still handsome, with his beautiful mane and bright eyes.
It broke my heart to see this incredibly sweet, gorgeous boy suffering. He had so much life and love in him, and I was devastated at the unfairness of it all.
And still, all he wanted was his Asia.
Asia refused to leave his side. I had to pull her away from him, to take him away from her.
She chased us to the door, and she was still there when we came back, without her beloved Tally.
Poor little Asia went into a severe depression. She walked around the house crying nonstop for weeks. She refused to eat. She wouldn't let us pet her or go near her. She refused to go into her and Tally's little cat beds. She hid in the basement next to his toy pile.
She's never been the same. Now, she stays in a room by herself, staring out the window. She eats and drinks, naps, and goes back to the window. Nothing else.
I know she's waiting for him to come back, and nothing is more heartbreaking to see.
True love never dies. Not for anyone.
Also by Carian Cole
Storm - Ashes & Embers book 1
Vandal - Ashes & Embers book 2
Lukas - Ashes & Embers book 3
PLANNED BOOKS:
Loving Storm - a Storm sequel
Vandalized - a Vandal sequel
Mikah’s story
Rayne’s story
Asher’s story
Plunge - a dark romance (stand-alone)
Sevan - a dark romance (stand-alone)
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About the Author
I HAVE A passion for the bad boys -- those covered in tattoos, sexy smirks, ripped jeans, fast cars, motorcycles, and of course, the sweet girls that try to tame them and win their hearts. My debut series, Ashes & Embers, follows the lives of rock band members as they find, and sometimes lose, the loves of their lives.
Born and raised a Jersey girl, I now reside in beautiful New Hampshire with my husband and our multitude of furry pets. I spend most of my time writing, reading, and vacuuming.
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Acknowledgments
I’m not going to list out names of everyone that I want to thank, because I’m a totally awkward scatterbrain and I’m afraid I’ll accidentally forget to type a name because one of my cats will of course walk across my keyboard and distract me while I’m typing.
That being said, I am overwhelmed by how many people have helped me on this journey. I’m a loner by nature, I’m not used to talking to lots of people, or asking for help, or trying to get myself out there. So many people have reached out to help me, pimp me, beta for me, share my posts, etc. - just to be nice and to help. That blows me away and I am so incredibly grateful and appreciative - I just don’t have the words to describe it. Especially during the writing of this book - I had a handful of people that went above and beyond to make sure this book was as awesome as it could be. It means so much to me that people believe in my writing and invest their own time and efforts into it.
So, huge heartfelt thanks to all of you - whether you read my books, chatted with me, left a review, beta read, edited, proofed, pimped, commented, liked, attended a take over, supported my models, or just listened to me - thank you!!!
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And of course, thank you to my husband, Eddie, for bringing me gelato to keep me happy while I wrote and for being so patient with me. xo
Recommended Reading
Sketch by Laramie Briscoe
Prologue
Sketch
“I love you, but I’m no longer in love with you, Devin.”
The words echo off the hardwood floor I had paid to have put in our home, they bounce off the walls Nina and I had painstakingly painted yellow. I remember the argument we got into about the trim color; an argument I won by tackling her to the, then carpeted, floor and fucking her into submission. What had happened to that couple? When had that changed?
“I don’t even know what to say.” And I didn’t. Shock and something akin to anger boil in my gut. I want to scream and punch, ask what the fuck is wrong with her, but those words won’t come. I can’t push them past my lips.
She sighs. “That’s precisely the problem, Devin; you never know what to say. You never know when you’re going to be home, you never know what your schedule is going to be. I can’t do this. When was the last time we had sex? When was the last time you told me that you love me? Devin, I’m done.”
There it is again. My real name. For the past seven years I’ve been Sket
ch. Through my apprenticeship and now at my own shop. Most people don’t even know my real fuckin’ name, and here she’s used it twice in one conversation.
“You’re done?” I sound like a parrot, but I can’t help it. This shit is coming out of left field for me. I’m standing here like a chump, holding a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of wine, and a box of chocolates. Following her out to the driveway, I watch as she walks awkwardly, holding duffel bags in each arm.
“Yeah, Devin. Done.” She rolls her eyes and continues putting her stuff in the car. The car, I might add, I bought her with the first profit that my shop turned.
“Do you even see what I’m holding, Nina?” I ask, thrusting my hands towards her.
“It’s too late,” she tells me, finally showing some emotion.
There are tears in her eyes and I wonder why. It’s not like I’m the one leaving her. I still have no idea where any of this is coming from. “Too late? This is me telling you that I finally have the time. Babe, we’re gonna live our lives.”
“I’ve been living, Devin.” She stomps her foot. “It’s you who’s had your head up your ass at that goddamn tattoo shop.”
That’s it. My stomach drops, and I see for the first time the ungrateful bitch she’s become. I feel anger overtake me. “That goddamn tattoo shop has provided you with a good life, Nina,” I yell.
Throwing the stuff down I have in my hands, I let it smash into a million pieces and watch it roll towards the car. Just like my life, it’s a jumbled up mess of shattered hopes and a river full of broken dreams.
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Sketch by Laramie Briscoe