One curse . . .
Christian, a nineteen-year-old reaper-human hybrid enslaved to the Other World to harvest souls, earns his freedom by making a bargain with the Goddess of Death. As part of the bargain, he’s been cursed with the kiss of death.
One kiss . . .
The only way Christian can break his curse is for an angel to kiss him. Willingly. He finds Brooke, a nineteen-year-old descendant of a Naphil whose destiny is to hunt rogue reapers, suffocating in a semi-agoraphobic cocoon since witnessing a reaper steal her brother’s soul.
Two destinies . . .
Christian has found the angel who can break his curse, and the seduction begins. To break her phobia’s hold, Brooke embraces her angelic role and makes it her mission to kill rogue reapers to avenge her brother’s murder. Christian can break his curse by kissing Brooke dead . . . but will she figure out his game and kill him first?
“Get out!” She crab-walked backward into the wall, wishing she could close her eyes and he’d be gone.
He grabbed her arms. “Stop it.”
“You liar! You’re a soul stealing thief, aren’t you?”
“I never said I was a saint.”
One look at the silver in his eyes, and she erupted with an anger that burned her from the inside. She hauled back her arm to slap him. He caught her wrist and pinned it against the wall.
Silver danced along the blue horizon of his eyes. Breathing hard, he said, “Calm down before you get hurt.”
“You’re the one about to be hurt.”
“I didn’t kill Ryan. Okay? It wasn’t me.”
She glared at him, her hand growing cold, the numbing sensation riding along her wrist and up her arm.
“I’m begging you, please calm down. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Before she could respond, he leaped up. Studying her from the far side of the kitchen, he leaned against the counter, gripping the edge until his knuckles turned white.
Feeling started to return to her fingers. Chafing her hands, she paused a moment before speaking. “Have you stolen souls before?”
“Yes.”
“But not his?”
“No.”
“When’s the last time you’ve stolen one?”
“Decades ago.”
“Do you want to kill me?”
“No.”
Her heart resumed a normal pace, the heat of her anger receding. Christian’s shoulders relaxed, and the silver in his eyes faded to slate gray.
She massaged the finger marks he left on her skin. “Why should I believe you?”
“Why would I lie?”
“To trick me?”
“Into doing what, exactly?”
Good question. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”
Light leaped into his eyes, a flash of sun on an angry sea. The trembling fear and anger morphed into a liquid heat. He looked oh-so-cute with his hair tousling around his cheeks. She tasted her lips, breathed in a fairly fresh breath of air, and then swallowed.
He’d saved her life. He said he didn’t kill Ryan. And he said he didn’t want to kill her. She loved him, believed him.
Christian said, “I’ve done things I would change if I could. Things I regret deeply. Haven’t you ever done something you wish you could do over?”
“Of course.”
“I’d like to prove I’m not such a dick. I’d like a second chance with you.”
Her muscles relaxed a fraction. Everyone had good and bad sides. Everyone deserved a second chance. Everyone should be allowed to fix the mistakes of their past.
She took a breath. Another. “Okay, I think I’m done tweaking out.”
Holding out his hand, he said, “Shall we talk?”
Brooke hesitated, then took his hand.
Dale Ibitz was born in Connecticut, grew up in the state of Washington, and then re-located back to Connecticut as an adult, where she studied English at Central Connecticut State University. Always a lover of books, she spent much of her childhood reading, visiting the library (her best friend’s mother was a librarian), and writing. In sixth grade, she placed 3rd in a writing contest, and she’s never stopped.
Dale’s a fan of hiking and the outdoors, seriously good writing, and she never, ever starts the day without chocolate and coffee (preferably together). Music inspires her, and she likes to listen to alternative metal.
If you were to visit Dale’s house, you'd meet her husband, 2 kids, their dog Lea (most people simply refer to her as The Beast...and for good reason), their cat Luna (affectionately known as Loony Luna), and a couple of loud-beaked parakeets.
No comments:
Post a Comment