by Amy Miles
And then…the pain begins.
The End
Also by Amy Miles:
Reckoning
Gabriel is gone.
Roseline is left with questions that refuse answers and only the memory of a man she vows to hunt and kill. But to do so, she must call a truce with her sworn enemy.
Together, Roseline and Nicolae track Fane to the underbelly of London, in search of Gabriel’s kidnappers. But when Malachi—an immortal with mystifying origin—presents himself as their guide, Roseline discovers she is not the only one looking for Gabriel.
Buried within the secret chambers of the infamous Hellfire Club, Roseline discovers a grim truth: Gabriel isn’t just a pawn being used by the Arotas prophecy, and those who seek to control its power. He is Arotas.
Everything Roseline has ever known about her brethren is about to change. Emotions flare, friendships sever, and the newly formed bonds between enemies are tested as she delves into realms hardly conceived. They are trapped in the midst of a battle that has been waging since the beginning of time.
The prophecy binds them all together. But will they break before the end?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amy Miles was born and raised in a military family but has now settled with her husband and son in South Carolina. She is also the author of Defiance Rising, Reckoning, and Redemption. To learn more about her and her books, visit AmyMilesBooks.com
Shaken
by
Susan Hatler
Shaken
Copyright © 2012 by Susan Hatler
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
________________________________________
Cover Design by Elaina Lee, For The Muse Designs
www.forthemusedesign.com
Titles by Susan Hatler
An Unexpected Date
Better Date than Never Series
Love at First Date (Book #1)
Truth or Date (Book #2)
My Last Blind Date (Book #3)
Save the Date (Book #4)
A Twist of Date (Book #5)
License to Date (Book #6)
Driven to Date (Book #7)
Up to Date (Book #8)
Teen Novels
Shaken
See Me
Praise
“It was amazing, fast-paced and action-packed, with a little bit of teenage crushing in there too! Hats off to Susan Hatler for a five star book!”
Books Are Sanity!!! on Shaken
“A Keeper!!!! If you enjoy a YA Romance jam packed with adventure and the unknown. I would recommend this fantastic read.”
— Tifferz Book Reviewz
“Ms. Hatler has a way of writing witty dialogue that makes you laugh-out-loud throughout her stories.”
— Night Owl Reviews on Truth or Date
“Seriously you guys, you have to pick this one up if you are a romantic at heart.Deliciously sweet.”
— Getting Your Read On Reviews on My Last Blind Date
“Susan Hatler’s books make me laugh out loud while also touching my heart.”
— Virna DePaul, New York Times Bestselling Author
Shaken
by
Susan Hatler
Chapter One
Thursday, 7:05 a.m.
Mom,
I’m late! But, I HAVE to tell you what happened. Short version: I got an A on Mr. McKay’s pop quiz yesterday. You proud? Well, that’s NOT even the exciting part. Guess who was waiting at my locker after class? JOEL TEMPLETON!
Yes, Joel. Wow. Writing it makes it even more real. JOEL was leaning with his shoulder against my locker, looking totally hot. It made my palms sweaty being so close to him and I must’ve gotten nervous cuz I blurted, “Do you mind? I can’t exactly enter my lock combo with your elbow in the way.”
I may have a 4.0, but if they gave grades in talking to guys I’d get an F for sure. Why can’t I flirt like a normal sixteen-year-old?
What is it about being around a hot guy that brings out my sarcastic side?
Good news: He didn’t tell me off. Instead, his mouth crept into that sexy half-smile thing he does and he said, “I heard you got an A on McKay’s pop-quiz. If I need a tutor, guess I know who to come to.”
For future note, some quality responses would’ve been: “I’m the world’s best tutor,” “I’m free after school today,” or “Why don’t I tutor you, then we can go see a movie after?”
What I actually said was: “Just cuz I get math, doesn’t mean I can teach it.”
Lame! Lame! Lame! For some reason, he didn’t seem annoyed by my response. He just laughed and said, “Catch you later.”
OMG, I think he might like me. When I see him today at school, I swear I’m going to say something right for a change. Hey, weirder things could happen. Like maybe Joel will turn out to be a teen version of Edmond Dantés. BTW, why don’t heroes like him exist in real life? Every time I read The Count of Monte Cristo, I get chills. I mean, he was banished to a cell for years, lived in isolation for a crime he didn’t commit, and what does he do when he gets out? He goes to find his girl. Now, that’s true love if you ask me—plus he was pretty hot in the movie.
Uh-oh, doorbell just rang. Who in the world’s coming to our apartment this early in the morning? Gotta run. Will write more soon.
Love,
Kylie
I tossed my journal on my dresser and hurried down the hall as the doorbell rang again. “Dad, can you get that?”
No answer, so I peeked into his room. Not there. I wandered down the hall and hung a left into the kitchen where I found a sticky note on our fridge right next to a picture of Dad and me from my eighth grade graduation:
Morning Kiddo,
Got paged by a patient and had to leave early.
Love,
Dad
The doorbell rang a third time.
“Coming, coming,” I said, heading to the front door. I peered through the peephole and saw some guy’s profile. His dark hair was slicked back, he wore a corduroy blazer over jeans, and held a beat up briefcase in his left hand. Looked like a cheesy salesman. Figures Dad would leave early for the office today of all days.
I opened our apartment door, crossing my fingers that Sales Dude would go away quickly because I certainly wasn’t buying. “Can I help you?”
“Hi, there. I’m Mark Hernandez,” he said. His dark eyes studied me. “Are you, by any chance, Kylie Walker?”
Walker? I blinked. As in, my mom’s maiden name? Um, she died when I was four, Sales Dude. Way to get your facts straight. “Yes, I’m Kylie.”
Kylie Bates, but no point in correcting him. It’s not like I was going to spend a nickel on whatever he’s pushing.
His eyes lit up and he exhaled through closed lips. “That’s great. Really great. Is your Mom, Sandy, home?”
“No.” Not since she died of a brain aneurysm twelve years ago. Whatever salary he was getting, they were paying him too much.
His thick brows came together. “Can you tell me what time you expect her?”
“She didn’t say.” True enough. Besides, I’m not that confrontational. My d
ad can be the one to shoot him down if he comes around again.
“May I come inside and wait?” he said.
Okay, that was too pushy. “Uh, I kinda have to get to school.”
“I see. All right.” He reached into the breast pocket of his untucked button-down shirt and pulled out a business card. “Again, my name is Mark Hernandez and it’s absolutely urgent that I speak with Sandy. Will you have her call me as soon as she gets in?”
“Sure.” I shoved the card into my jeans pocket to make it look like I’d pass on the message.
“Even if it’s late.” He stared me down. “It’s really important.”
“Okay.” Can you say desperate?
He continued to stand on our doormat for a minute then shifted his feet. “All right then. I guess that’s all for now. Thank you very much for your time.”
He held his arm out to shake my hand.
Wow. Worried about impressing the kid? This guy was totally jonesing for a sale. I reached out and placed my hand in his . . . and it suddenly felt like I’d shoved my hand inside an electrical socket.
Heavy vibrations rattled up my arm, into my neck, and then slammed into my head. Images flashed in my mind as if a slideshow had started playing. The sales guy in an office. A brunette. Her eyes so red and swollen they’d lost their shape. White lights burst between the rapid frames. A big red desk. His pen poised above a yellow pad. Tears rolling down her face. “You have to find her fast,” a female voice echoed in my head like wicked laughter.
“Aagh!” I jerked my hand away, tripped over the porch mat, and fell back on my butt. The screen in my head went black and the voice faded.
“Are you okay?” Sales Dude knelt in front of me, his black, caterpillar brows crinkling.
I panted hard and tried to get a grip. What. Just. Happened?
“Miss Walker?” He waved a hand in front of my face. “Say something. Are you all right?”
I shook my head. Must’ve just zoned out for a moment, that’s all. What else could it be?
“Kylie.” He wiggled his fingers back and forth past my eyes. “I said, are you okay?”
I opened my mouth to tell him to chill, but then—boom!—the images burst into my head again as if by photographic memory. “You have to find her fast,” the woman’s voice shrilled. What was this? A depressing movie-of-the-week scene starring Mark Hernandez and some weepy heroine? “S-stop!”
“What’s going on?” He sounded frustrated.
I couldn’t repeat what I’d just seen. That I’d pictured him taking notes while some brunette sobbed her head off because, somehow, I knew the scene was real, that it had actually happened—that it’d somehow gotten from his brain to mine, which was obviously impossible. No, definitely wasn’t going to share that info. He’d think I was crazy. Oh, no. Was I crazy? Had some whacko poisoned my box of bran flakes cereal? “It’s n-nothing. I’m fine.”
He stared at me. “Are you sure?”
Most definitely not, but I had to get away from him before I heard that lady’s plea again. It sounded way too tormented. “Yeah, great. I have your card, so gotta go now. Bye.”
I threw the door closed, ran down the hall to my room, and dove face down on my bed. How could this be real? Hallucinating. I had to be hallucinating.
I mean, I’d seen a scene from the salesman’s life. Twice. But, how? We’d shaken hands, I’d felt buzzing course up my arm and then—bam!—images played in my head. Had my brain somehow peeked into his? Not possible, but what other explanation could there be?
I shuddered.
As with anytime I freaked out, I wanted to run to my dad. He gives pretty cool advice, probably because he’s a psychologist and all. He’d totally reassure me I wasn’t losing my mind and come up with a good explanation for what had happened.
But, he was gone. Left early for a patient. Well, what about his daughter? Left her high and dry, didn’t he?
I glanced at my watch. If I didn’t leave for school now, I’d be late. I’m never late. It gives teachers a bad impression and they can switch an A to an A- with the flick of a pen. There wasn’t time to freak. Besides, who cares that I’d seen a stranger’s thoughts? Had to have been a fluke. One of those weird, unexplainable psychic things you hear about on TV that only happen once and then that’s the end of it.
Pushing it out of my mind, I snagged my backpack from my bedroom, and bolted out the front door. To help forget this random encounter, I’d focus on my goal for today: Talk to Joel in a way that lets him know I’m interested. No sarcasm. Just proper flirting. Sounded simple enough.
If it were anyone but me, that is.
****
On the drive to Sacramento Valley High School, I played “I’m losing it . . . I’m losing it not” by counting the cars in the next lane. I ended on “I’m losing it.” Not good.
I pulled my car into a parking space at school, killed the engine, and nearly had a heart attack. Standing twenty feet in front of my car was Joel Templeton. Only it was my best friend, Julie, who was flirting expertly with him.
Reading Sales Dude’s mind had freaked me out, but watching Julie touch Joel’s arm truly rattled me. She’s my best friend and knows Joel’s my current crush (after Edmond Dantés, of course). So, what was she doing?
Wait a minute. I’d just had a very weird morning. Maybe I was making too much of this Julie-Joel exchange. It was only an arm squeeze, after all. Could mean anything. If only I could tell what Julie was thinking.
Huh. There’s a thought. If I’d seriously peeked into Mark Hernandez’s brain—and that’s a big “if”—then I should be able to see into Julie’s as well. Wait, am I seriously thinking my body’s switched on some kind of weird power?
Julie smiled up at Joel and my body went rigid. She was totally flirting and I had to find out why. Options. What were my options? Try the brain peeking thing or . . . or, what? Sit here drumming my fingers on the steering wheel and obsess?
I stared at my blonde friend, concentrated hard, and tried to read her mind.
Nothing.
I held my hands up and worked to control the energy from me to her. “Come on. Open her mind. Is she scamming on Joel or what?”
Nope. Still couldn’t see a thing.
This was hopeless. Like I could really read someone’s mind. What a joke. Unless, well, maybe I needed to be closer to her like I’d been with Sales Dude?
With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I got out of my car and headed over to Julie and Joel, hoping to get a rational explanation. That is, if I could get my peek-a-boo brain working again.
Julie didn’t notice me approach, probably because she was too busy gazing into my crush’s eyes. But, Joel saw me right away and waved casually.
“Hey, Kylie.” His mouth formed a lazy half-smile. “How’s it going?”
“I’ve been better.” The response didn’t fit my flirtation goals, but it was certainly true.
Julie looked startled, but then she smiled and flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Hi, girl. What’s up?”
“You tell me.” I stopped a foot away, gazed into her eyes, and mentally begged her thoughts to appear in my head.
She raised her eyebrows, which she had a habit of doing whenever anything piqued her interest, irritated her, bothered her . . . basically, she raised those penciled brows a lot. “Did one of your contacts fall out or something?”
“Huh?”
She leaned toward me and I could smell her bubble-gum breath. “Your eyes look all buggy.”
I stopped flaring my eyes and blinked. How had I seen Mark Hernandez’s meeting with that brunette? Because, it had to have been real. There’s just no way I thought up those images on my own. Thoughts of Edmond? Yes. Some lady crying? Not so much. But, if I’d seen Mark Hernandez’s thoughts, why couldn’t I see Julie’s now? It didn’t make sense.
Forget the strange phenomenon garbage I’d spouted earlier. Rationally, if I read someone’s mind once, I should be able to do it again.
And I needed to do it now.
I batted my fist against my thigh over and over. This was so frustrating. What had I done with Mark Hernandez that I wasn’t doing with Julie? He’d shaken my hand and then—whammo!—thoughts in my head like daytime drama. Hmmm . . . he’d shaken my hand and then those weird vibrations had gone up my arm. Physical contact! That must be the clincher.
Julie snapped a hot pink bubble. “You all right, girl?”
I smiled, happy to have discovered the missing link. “I’ll be better in about two seconds.”
Julie shot Joel a look, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was still looking at me with a smile worthy of a hot movie star.
I squinted, trying to figure out how to touch Julie without them thinking I was strange. “What the . . . ?” I put a hand on her rayon-covered shoulder and stared into her eyes. “Are you using new mascara?”
I waited for my hand to vibrate, for her thoughts to fill my brain, but all I felt was Julie shrugging. “It’s pretty new. I got it at the mall like a week ago. Why?” She pulled at her eyelashes. “It’s not clumpy, is it?”
“No,” I said, wondering if the fabric between our skin could be breaking the mind connection. I put a hand on her bare elbow. “Your eyelashes look fantastic.” I squeezed my eyes shut, anticipating the electrical jolt.
Nothing happened.
“How can you see my lashes with your eyes closed?” Julie sounded confused. “And since when do you care about make-up?”
“I don’t.” What I cared about was finding out why she’d been flirting with Joel, but this wasn’t working. I glanced at him and he was eyeing me strangely, probably thinking about how superficial I must be. I mean, what kind of girl can tell when her friend changes mascara brands?