(UNEDITED TEASER)
I woke up to the sound of my own moan.
My thighs parted as I arched my back, the textured feel of a tongue running up the slit of my pussy. It was hot and wet, applying pressure once it reached my very swollen clit. Hips rocking, I groaned again, my hands coming up automatically to cup my breasts, pinching my nipples that were already hard and sensitive.
Fuck, that feels good…
Wait a second…what feels good? Nothing should feel like anything…
My eyes flew open after a few seconds of ecstasy, once realization began to dawn on me. Darkness hovered overhead. Pitch blackness where the roof of the old house should have been. If I didn’t know any better I would have said my eyelids were still closed. I blinked several times as I tried to get my bearings. Still, the tongue laved at me, devouring my wet, contracting pussy until my thighs were quivering.
What a normal person would have done in this situation is get up and leave, maybe even kicking out a foot at whoever broke into their house to eat them out. But I never claimed to be a normal person, and to be honest…this wasn’t exactly my weirdest Saturday night.
After blinking the sleep from my eyes, the blackness that hovered over me deepened. It became somewhat solid, like a living mass of...something. Or was it…someone? I raised my head, trying to see down my body, which I assumed was still laid out in front of the fireplace that was long put out. A heavy weight pressed me right back down to the sleeping bag and held me still. I couldn’t move.
Fuck, fuck, fuck…
Heart in my throat, my breathing became labored. “What the hell is this?” My words were strangled as my clit throbbed with every wet swipe. The torment was building like a smoldering flame just under my belly button, traveling down and down until I could feel it deep in my core. “Who’s there…?” I gritted out, again strangled and halfway moaned, which I wasn’t proud of, but whatever was licking and sucking me was doing a far better job than about ninety percent of the partners I’d been with.
As I attempted to fight back, my hands were batted away by…shadows? That’s what it looked like at least. Forced to my sides, my arms were locked in place, but all I felt was a warmth covering every inch of my skin. It was like I was blind and paralyzed, save for every nerve ending firing at once.
I’d felt like this before. Well, aside from the licking. There was a name for it too, I believe it was called sleep paralysis. The logical part of my brain said this was just a dream, like so many fuckhead psychiatrists had tried to tell me, but it felt so damn real.
Above me, there was a sudden noise, like the creaking and cracking of steps on centuries old hardwood flooring, as if there was someone up there, walking around in what used to be Magnolia’s room. My heart thudded against my ribcage painfully as I tried to fight the pressure holding me in place, but the pleasure was glowing so intense that any moment my brain would be mush.
Sleep paralysis was somewhat common, and over the years I’d experienced it once or twice after a bad binge, but it never felt like this, nor had anyone in my grippy sock group a few years ago described it this way. Usually I saw shadows out of the corner of my eyes, or a mass of dark shapes in the crack of my closet door. This…this was something else.
It licked and sucked until I was a shivering, quivering mess, moaning as tears leaked from my eyes and down my cheeks. Slowly the shadow began to take shape as my eyes adjusted to the dark room.
I came hard. It hit me like a fucking brick to the face. My whole body locked up, thighs shaking, pussy clenching, clit throbbing and liquid squirting. Yeah, I was a fucking squirter, and it felt amazing. It was like an unbearable pressure had been released, leaving nothing but warmth and emptiness behind.
I screamed, physically unable to keep it in anymore. Wave after wave of molten pleasure rolled over me until I was a sweating, trembling mess.
I'd always been a fighter, even on the worst day of my life, but for some reason all I wanted to do was lay prone on the floor and let this…thing touch me again and again and again. There was still a good chance that all of this was just happening in my mind. If so, maybe I didn’t mind it so much. Maybe my drug addled brain had found a way to entice me into keeping it alive for a while longer.
Was I really as sick and twisted as everybody told me I was?
The shadow overhead started to recede, and I thought it would disappear altogether when suddenly it was shifting to the right, undulating like some sort of liquid blackness, as if the darkness was staring right back at me, waiting for my next move. I didn't know where to focus my eyes, nor could I move my body to defend myself. Even if I wanted to run there was no way I could make my limbs move.
“What the fuck are you?'' I asked, it. I felt like an idiot talking to shadows but I just knew that something was there. I wasn't alone in this house, even if I was dreaming. Something told me that I was the real intruder here and whatever this was, was alive and curious.
Again, a noise from above like the creaking and stretching of old wood made me look up even though I could barely see the ceiling. Something was walking up there, heading towards the staircase near the foyer, and the sound was way too heavy to be the cats.
“Is your flesh as sweet as your nectar?” came a deep, rumbling voice that had my entire body going still. It was low enough that I could barely make out what it was saying. I couldn't place the exact accent, but it sounded…wrong.
The voice sent chills down my spine and a coldness flowing through my veins. There was a certain edge to it that promised pain, madness and hunger. It was as if it were anticipating my fear, and hoping for it.
I was halfway tempted I'll let it have me, to let whatever this was consume me whole until I was no longer myself anymore. I had enough of being myself. I had enough of looking at the same old tired eyes in the mirror day after day knowing that in the end my life was worthless.
Maybe that’s why I wasn’t trying harder to run.
Something that felt oddly like fingers tipped in long claws flexed around my biceps as another deep rumbling sound filled the room. I got the distinct impression that whatever this was, was purely male, and whatever it wanted from me was purely carnal. It was hungry for me. I could feel it. I could hear it. But was it hungry for my…nectar? Or was it salivating for my flesh?
“Your pain is delicious, Sad One.” The words a little more clear this time. “Give me more…” it said, nearly begging.
My hip thrust again, seemingly the only part of my body that I could move on my own and I wondered if that was purposeful. The thing rumbled again, and pressing into my core was something hard and pulsing. There was a thick mass pressed between my thighs, spreading them wider, the way a man’s body might spread them as he filled me up. I allowed my thighs to fall open, welcoming the shadow into me.
The creaking from above stopped, replaced by footsteps behind me. They were heavy and purposeful, as if whatever it was, was used to slinking around in silence, but was letting me know that it was here. A voice. Not as deep as the last, but more jovial, maybe even sinister and wicked. It spoke from behind me where I couldn't turn to see.
“Spread out like a feast. Brother, you’ve outdone yourself.”
Brother?
The deeper voice chuckled in response to his...brother, dragging the tips of its claws down my thighs until I could feel the sting of my skin splitting. A hot puff of breath hit my core and a small sound of surprise left my lips. “Come for us, Sad One. Let me lick it up and savor it.”
Sad one… Why were they calling me sad one? Was it some kind of fucked up endearment? I blinked, and blinked again, narrowing my eyes to try and peer past the darkness. My heart pounded with excitement and adrenaline, proving to myself exactly how fucked in the head I really was. Was I really enjoying this? Would I really sink so far into insanity that I would fuck a literal shadow? A little voice in the back of my head said why not.
It wasn’t the usual voice that nagged at me. The voice that taunted me, and urged me to end it all. It wasn’t the laughter that constantly echoed behind my every thought. Thai was a voice I’d buried a long time ago, and it told me to take, take, take…
I believed in monsters, demons and hosts. I believed in the existence of evil. In the decade after losing everything that I loved, I felt haunted by evil, by monsters and ghosts. I felt stalked and taunted, like they were watching me, waiting for me to succumb to the voices. Maybe they were finally here to collect the debt I owed. I was never meant to live that night, and maybe now I could set things right.
I moaned as the weight between my thighs shifted, something hard and bulging dragging across my clit. Coming once wasn’t enough. I didn't consider myself sated until I was throbbing, soaking wet and ready to pass out. The decision to let this happen was already made, whether it be a dream or not. I came here to die anyway, so I might as well go out moaning.
I wanted these creatures to touch me. I wanted them to make me feel unspeakably dirty, to do awful things to me if only to make me feel something for once in my goddamn life.
There were footsteps behind me creaking on the floorboards and I stiffened. The second creature came towards me, stopping right behind my head as if they were kneeling there. Long fingers sifted through my hair, running claws over the strands and my scalp until I closed my eyes in ecstasy, tipping back my head, letting out a long moan.
The thing on top of me slashes a burning line along my inner thigh, and I felt the warmth of my blood trickling over my skin and pooling on the floor. The pain felt amazing, and nearly had my eyes rolling back. The creature smeared its palm in the blood before dragging it through my pussy lips, rubbing it around my swollen clit as if using my own blood as lube. My eyes flew open in shock, my lips parting in another moan that I couldn’t seem to control. I met the eyes of what I could only describe as a living shadow.
It had the body of a man, tall, strong and lean. Yet it had no distinguishable features other than undulating shadows that dissipated into the air around it as if a man were trapped inside a thick layer of smoke. It stared at me with glowing bright white eyes that didn’t blink. Its face was so dark that it almost didn’t have any features, but if I looked past the shadows for long enough, I could just barely make out the shape of a strong jaw, a defined nose and wide, grinning lips. The longer I stared the wider it grinned, until those lips parted, revealing rows of needle like teeth.
Clawed talons in place of fingers looked sharp enough that it could slash me in half as easily as a knife through warm butter. I swallowed thickly, running my eyes up and down the…thing, wondering if he was only playing with his food tonight.
My eyes widened when not one, but two pairs of arms reached for me from behind, hands cupping my breasts, while the second pair anchored me to the floor by my shoulders. I tried to picture the same shadow man I could see kneeling between my legs, only with four arms like some kind of insect, and I shivered, thinking of all the things one could do with that many limbs at their disposal.
The part of me that was long dead thought of screaming, or calling out for help to anybody who might hear. But who would hear me out here so far away from the nearest neighbor? Our property was vast enough that I could walk a mile and not see another soul. Nobody heard my family when they screamed for their lives, nobody heard my sister begging for hers, nobody heard my father pleading for…him to take his life instead. Nobody heard us and nobody saved us. So why would they save me now?
But did I even want to be saved? Maybe these shadow monsters would make this entire situation even easier. For years I tried and failed to kill myself. To rid myself of these incessant voices in my head that never seem to shut the fuck up. But I'd never been able to do it because I was a fucking coward down to my core. I was a goddamn fucking coward.
So maybe they would do it for me. Maybe they would have their fill of ravishing my body before devouring it whole and ripping me to shreds, leaving nothing behind but blood and bones the way that the universe had intended before I managed to cheat death the first time.
"Bleed for me, Iris. I need to taste it…to sip it from your pretty veins." His long claws dug into my arms from overhead, anchoring me in place as his brother’s tongue slithered over my clit again, flicking and laving back and forth.
Every muscle in my body quivered, my eyes rolling back as heat pooled between my thighs. I ached to rub myself against his shadowy face, to find relief from this suffering.
"Your suffering...I crave it," the one behind me said. I tilted my head back and peered up at him. His eyes glowed white against the void of his smokey black body. "Cut deeper, love."
Cut…? What was he talking…
I looked down, suddenly staring at the straight razor I clutched in my hand. Only seconds before, my arms had been locked in place.l I didn’t remember moving, nor had I taken my razor out of my overnight bag. That didn’t change the fact that I was holding it…pressing it to my other wrist now. When had I moved? What was going on? Time didn’t make sense, and my mind was scattered. Still, the shadow man only urged me on with the nod of his head.
I pressed the razor edge into my arm, relishing the feel of hot blood pouring down my elbow, dripping onto the wooden floor. The burn of it was ecstasy, and I closed my eyes, letting a moan slip past my lips.
“Lick it from her vein, Cyn,” the shadow man between my thighs said. I opened my eyes to see him staring at his brother, my blood still dripping from his lips.
Cyn… Why is that so fitting?
I felt his grip on my arm as he raised it to his lips, letting his long tongue lap at the blood. His tongue was forked, and he could move each point individually. My arm stung badly, but I could still feel the tickle down to my bones. I squirmed, rolling my hips as Cyn licked my arm, drinking my blood down greedily until my head started to feel too heavy.
“Make her scream, Cilas,” Cyn said, his voice strained and heavy with hunger and anticipation. “Her heart is racing, but not fast enough…”
I looked down at the shadow man between my thighs…Cilas. His white eyes watched as his brother lapped up the blood dripping down my arm, and again, I felt something hard shift against my core. I couldn’t help but grind against it.
Then I felt it. The thick head of what was unmistakably a heavy, pulsating cock pushed at my entrance. A breath caught in my throat as my entire body stiffened. Was this really happening? Could I even stop this if I wanted to? Something told me the choice was out of my hands. Instead of shoving inside of me, Cilas angled his hips upwards, letting the underside of his shadowy cock slide along my wet pussy. I groaned again, my back arching into him as Cyn played with my nipples.
So many hands…so many fingers, cocks and tongues. I was lost, and I didn’t want to be found.
#CoverReveal #preorder #hellsapocalypse #feralskies
Due to overwhelming demand, I have officially changed the cover for Feral Skies to my special edition cover. I am also officially announcing the pre-order for Dead Tides, the second and final book in the series!
This cover and the old cover will still be available at BABE, but will now be available everywhere else too!
Pre-order: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B8C5PZDD?ref
................
I found my family even in the chaos of this dead new world. Not many folks can say that. But somehow, I managed to collect a few more members of that family. I thought we were in the clear and that the Trappers we'd k!lled were the worst of our problems. Mac was gone for good and I could put all the trauma in the past.
Maybe I spoke too soon.
As if having the infamous Jessa show up out of nowhere, causing Alex to spiral, wasn't a sh!tstorm in itself, my father's base received a distress call from a settlement in California that needs help. The guys tell me to let someone else handle it. I've been through enough this past year and a half.
But...once a Marine always a Marine, right?
Eff my life.
COB!
Get your pre-order on! 🎡 Carnival of Bones is right around the corner!
𝐵𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑢𝑒 𝑎̀ 𝑙𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑛
The song beckons me. Haunting, tragic and utterly lovely. It calls me to a place deep in the Louisiana Bayou, where impossible things creep in the shadows.
Following the voice on the wind, I scratch at the blood coating my skin and dance along the swamps with the crickets. Hands caress my arms and lips coax at mine, begging for me to let them inside. Begging me to surrender. Two men...if you can call them men, tell me I'll never leave this place. These lights, this music, this nightmare... It scares me but it thrills me. Enough that I can almost forget about the blood on my skin.
My name is Moria Laveau, and I think I've done something very, very wrong.
#menageromance #whychoose #DarkRomance #carnival #NOLA #standalone #COB #CarnivalofBones #highheat #triggers #scary
This is a standalone dark ménage romance. This is a why choose book, in which the MC does not have to choose between two love interests. Not suitable for anyone under the age of 18 due to extreme violence, depictions of death, graphic sex and references to triggering subjects.
𝐶𝑂𝑉𝐸𝑅 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐵𝐿𝑈𝑅𝐵 𝑅𝐸𝑉𝐸𝐴𝐿! Plus a sneak peek!
My Peeps get to see it first!
...........................................
𝐵𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑢𝑒 𝑎̀ 𝑙𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑛
The song beckons me. Haunting, tragic and utterly lovely. It calls me to a place deep in the Louisiana Bayou, where impossible things creep in the shadows.
Following the voice on the wind, I scratch at the blood coating my skin and dance along the swamps with the crickets. Hands caress my arms and lips coax at mine, begging for me to let them inside. Begging me to surrender. Two men...if you can call them men, tell me I’ll never leave this place. These lights, this music, this nightmare... It scares me but it thrills me. Enough that I can almost forget about the blood on my skin.
My name is Moria Laveau, and I think I’ve done something very, very wrong.
𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑚𝑒́𝑛𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑦 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘, 𝑖𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝐶 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠. 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 18 𝑑𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒 𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐 𝑠𝑒𝑥 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑢𝑏𝑗𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑠.
#carnival #NOLA #menage #PNR #triggers #spooky #coverreveal #whychoose #darkromancereads
(Pre-order will be going up next week. I am aiming for an Aug or Sept release.)
Sneak Peek of Ch1! (unedited)
There was a horrible ringing in my ears that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake. The ringing escalated until my head pounded. It felt like needles at first, turning into a burning, and then quickly... to a dull pulse.
Cold seeped into my bones. It was a strange sort of cold. It felt—empty. But the moment my mind began to grasp the fact that I was freezing, I felt a warmth trickle over my feet. The heat was almost offensive against the stark, frozen sensations in my limbs. Shaking my head back and forth, I fought to clear my vision—fought to see past the shadows the encroached—that threatened to swallow me whole. I could hear nothing but that low sound, and it made me ache.
Awareness settled eventually, slowly, and the dark room came into view, the only visible light leaking in from below the closed bedroom door. Looking around, I realized I was standing in the center of my master bedroom, just at the foot of my beautiful king sized bed.
What time is it? My eyes flickered instinctively to the clock on the bedside table.
It must have been reset at some point, because instead of numbers, four short dashes blinked in the empty, dark room. It was night outside the bedroom window, covered in long gauzy curtains that billowed in the gentle breeze, carrying with it the smells of the city. Next to it, the balcony door was open, and noise filtered inside, as if someone had suddenly turned up the volume. I could hear music and laughter, and the honking of horns and the blare of trumpets. Still though, that ringing wouldn’t go away. It was, however, slightly duller than it had been before, growing quieter by the second.
I tried to make for the door, but my foot slid over the hardwood floor, forcing me to latch onto the nearest object I could find in order to keep upright. My fingers curled around the oak footboard, and my weak arms threatened to give under the weight. Old, original hardwood floorboards groaned as I pulled myself back upright, but my foot slipped out again.
Looking down, straining to see through the dark, I saw that I was wearing a long white dress, not something I even knew I owned. At least, I couldn’t remember buying anything that looked so delicate and beautiful. I was more of a jeans and t-shirt sort of woman. Confusion made my stomach tighten.
But it wasn’t the dress that made my arms give out as well as my shaky legs. It was the blood. So much of it. Too much of it. Well, in reality, any blood at all on the outside of a body was too much blood, i supposed. But that was beside the point. I was saturated in it. I would have thought it was simply paint if it hadn't been for the sharp, coppery scent that suddenly permeated the air to the point of making me gag. I’d never seen so much blood before.
Gods, Austin’s going to kill me.
The thought filtered in by accident. But it was true. If this blood left a stain on our beautiful floors, I’d be bruised for weeks… days if I was lucky. I choked, suppressing the violent need to gag, crawling across the floor of the bedroom. My arms and legs were shaking, and sobs began to pour out.
The thick, crimson liquid squished between my fingers and toes as I crawled. Even though I slipped and slid, I still managed to pull myself up using the aging brass doorknob, and yanked the heavy door open, practically throwing myself into the hallway.
The hallway was dark too, so I slapped a hand around, fumbling for the light switch, but in this dazed and panicked state, I couldn’t find it. Instead, I clumsily managed to knock down every single picture frame I’d meticulously hung on the walls and heard them crashing to the floor behind me.
“Austin!” I cried out, my voice scratchy and rough. “Austin!” I screamed again, and it hurt even worse the second time around. My throat felt raw and torn to shreds, and I could taste blood in my mouth now, making me retch again, but just like before, nothing came out.
Finally reaching the living room, I was about to call out my fiance’s name one more time, but I immediately knew he wasn’t there. The television was on, but it was only static. The fireplace next to it, however, was still smoldering. Next to the front door, Austin’s keys were gone. He probably went to the bar with his business partners—two men from the Chicago firm that I didn’t know all that well.
I shuddered at the thought of him stumbling home drunk once again—mad at the world and making me deal with the aftermath as he often did. He never was a graceful drunk. Alcohol seemed to make his dick limp, and his brain duller than normal, and he took out his frustration over it on my body.
So why don’t I remember him leaving?
It made no sense. Usually when Austin geared up for a night out with his men, he’d fuck me hard and rough, regardless of if I wanted it or not. He’d whisper in my ear all the things he’d do to me if I left this house while he was gone, and then he’d kiss my lips to the point of pain, whispering all the ways he'd reward me if I complied. Reward was an interesting word for what he blessed me with—just another night of fake moaning as he rutted against me like a fucking boy.
So, where is he?
Something frantic woke up inside of me. A need to get to him suddenly overwhelmed every other sensation. I didn’t know where the need came from, as most of the time I was desperate to get as far from him and his fists as possible. I knew I should be worried about the blood in the bedroom, still seeping into the porous wood, wondering if I should call 911 or feel myself for wounds. But it was like a single mindedness had taken hold.
Try as I might, I couldn’t remember anything about the night before. Everything was gone. It was a blur. According to the digital clock on the wall next to the key ring, it was October 1st, so that made sense. Just yesterday I’d gone to visit my grandmother.
I remembered spending hours chatting with her, drinking her famous oolong tea with spiced honey and enjoying a break from my new, miserable life. But beyond that was blank. No memories—nothing to tell me how I got from my grandmother’s place to the bedroom, and why I was covered head to toe in blood.
I stumbled to the front door, not bothering to grab my car keys. For some reason I just ran right past them and out into the hall of the historical building. The floor was made to look like cobblestone, and pillared arches rose up around me creating vaulted ceilings reminiscent of ancient architecture not often seen in America.
The halls were empty, but I could hear the thumping of music coming from every which way. Taking the staircase nearest the door, I quickly and shakily descended two flights before reaching the bottom level and coming to a stop just outside the front entrance. Humid air slapped me in the face, and so did the blaring sounds of music and laughter. It washed over me in a heavy, familiar wave, nearly making me stumble.
All around were people. Some wore grotesque looking masks, some wore wings or crazy hats. Some had beads around their necks or paint on their faces, but they were all smiling. It was October 1st, and the French Quarter—my home, was bustling with activity. There was confetti everywhere, telling me I must have just missed the parade.
That’s probably why I was wearing this ridiculous dress, I deduced, once again clutching at the bloodstained garment. Everyone dressed up for the parades, myself included, even though I wasn’t allowed to attend anymore.
Goddamn it, why the hell can’t I remember anything?!
I looked around at the many different faces as people passed by, hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone I recognized, namely my fiance. But I knew I wouldn’t find him among the happy faces. Austin hated this time of year. It was almost as bad as Mardi Gras in his eyes. The whole month of Halloween was revered in this strange and wonderful city, and it was celebrated all month long, mostly for the sake of the tourists in early October.
Austin detested it. He hated anything fun, actually—hated anything that reminded him of the woman he was about to marry. Anything that threatened to pull his precious prize back into the world she was born into. So, no. I couldn’t see him sneaking out of a filthy downtown bar he was probably lazing around in just to rejoin the fun.
Stumbling down the busy street, nobody paid me any attention. On nights like these, New Orleans was filled with oddities and gruesome yet beautiful costumes, enough that the sight of a bloody, barefoot woman wouldn’t garner too much attention. There were costumes everywhere, and people were drunk out of their wits. The witches were out tonight, too. Some the real thing, and others tourism witches, who capitalized off of our culture in order to make money.
But the real witches were easy to spot if you knew what to look for—what to listen for. I knew how to spot my people. I could spot them by the cadence of their slow words, and the sly, knowing smirks that matched the mischievous looks in their eyes. There was something ethereal and almost feral about witches, and they were often clad in simple clothing of lace or silk, with wild hair and even wilder smiles.
October was a practitioner's time to shine—when tourists from around the world flocked to our streets, just begging to be amazed and dazzled by what they perceived to be trickery and slight of hand. They visited shops for spells, herbs and crystals, but if they truly knew where to look, or if they were just that lucky, once in a while one might stumble in on a real witch and their wares. You just had to know how to tell the difference in people—people like my grandmother. People like my mother and myself. Or… who my mother used to be, at least. Who I used to be, before she practically sold me off to Austin and he cut off my connection to my people almost completely.
Am I losing my mind?
I contemplated the notion. One thought kept looping through my head like an endless carousel—I need to find Austin before he realizes I’m not home. He’s going to kill me if I don’t get back, but why couldn't I make myself turn around? It was practically chant now. I could feel it growing, the stark, bone chilling fear licking down my spine at the prospect of him walking through that door without me there to greet him.
But for some reason, I didn’t turn back around. I didn’t go back to our apartment, though my mind screamed and raged at me to get back. Instead, I wandered further down the busy street in a daze—only stopping for a herd of costumed people to pass in front of me, blowing on trumpets, harmonicas and singing wile some of them did cartwheels in the street.
A group of witches stood in a small circle on the corner, their eyes glowing brightly while they conjured hundreds of roses from nothing, letting them rain down over the festivities. Tourists would believe it was all part of the act, but I knew better.
Sex, magic and the smell of juniper tea was in the air, making my head spin—making me nostalgic for the days when my mother was a different person. When we’d join the witches on the street corner, and she’d encourage me to run with the other little girls through the streets in our lacy white dresses and beads in our hair. I missed it every day. Every moment my fiance kept me in that apartment. The quarter was my home… but if I ever chose to leave him, my mother would be the one to pay the price in the end. So twenty two years of freedom amounted to nothing more than suffering under a lunatics thumb while everything that used to make me, me, was slowly drained out.
Austin hated everything about New Orleans, and it made me wonder why he was so content to stay there, even when his family still remained in Chicago. Sure, the firm here was doing well under his partnership, but why force himself to live in a city filled with everything he despised? He hated my beliefs and my heritage. He hated the way my grandmother filled my head with her ‘nonsense’ as he liked to put it. Or, occasionally—the devil’s work. He liked to call it that. Little did he know that the devil didn’t exist in my world. The devil was a concept. A vessel in which humans personified fear they did not understand.
I was nothing but a superstitious girl who had her head in the clouds for too long, but the money my family provided was too enticing to pass up. We were wealthy, and my mother allowed herself to fall for the wrong man.
For a moment, my eyes unfocused and my vision went dark. My head felt too light. Flashes of light… heavy breathing… the taste of copper, and a pair of eyes in the darkness...
Whatever it was was gone the instant a kazoo blared in my right ear. The strange daydream dissolved and I yelped, clutching my hands to my chest as two men wearing black and white striped oversized suit jackets whizzed by on the tops of two colorful unicycles. Sparks flew from the massive wheels and the men whirled in circles as people laughed and cheered them on.
Dizziness made me sway, and still the need to find Austin was overwhelming.
Then, it was as if someone had dipped my head into a pool of water. The noise died down, and it was like time stood still. A voice on the air… a strange voice, accompanied by that same ringing. It was the only thing I could hear, and it was so beautiful. Haunting. But what was it saying? It was singing, the song making me dizzy and frantic. I spun and swayed, my dress trying to tangle around my feet. The noise of the celebration was coming in and out, silent one moment and loud the next.
I clutched my head when the pain came, doubling over with a shrill scream that was drowned out by the music. My back hit the brick wall of a building behind me as my fingers dug into my hair. Something was wrong. I could feel it. Something was very, very wrong.
Raising my face to the starry sky, my heart thumped slowly, my eyes rolled back, my fingers curled and my mouth opened wide as if to scream again…
Then, nothing...
Face Lift!
Dead End got a sexy new cover! Available on Amazon!
Teaser for no reason at all
It’s almost time for Hybrid Theory to drop!
oopsie
teaser time
Pre-Order ALERT!
Blood, iron and chains... Death, desperation and grief... This is my new reality. This darkness that eats me up from the inside out. When I woke up in this strange place with the memory of glowing red eyes in the shadows, I just knew I was never going home again. I fought my way out of one prison only to be bound again, this time to three creatures who claim I belong to them. Who claim I have a job to do.
I'm just a broken woman who's never felt a loving touch, and all I want is to claw my way out of this nightmare. But the world I once knew no longer exists and turning a blind eye would mean the end of so many lives. The choice I have to make isn't simple, and it's going to be bloody.
April 1st 2021
Blood Moon Release Party!
Join my reader group for an awesome takeover event on February 10th! There will be giveaways, signed paperbacks and a live video Q&A with yours truly!
