A peek into Awaken the Soul...
/ I confess. I have an obsession with angels.
When I was approached about writing for the Havenwood Falls community, it took less than one second for me to decide on angels as my paranormal ‘creature’. Awaken the Soul gave me the opportunity to take my signature romance and likable characters and kick them up a notch with special abilities. Win-win!!
Viv and Breckin’s story was the fifth released in the Havenwood Falls High storyline. If you’re not familiar with Havenwood Falls it is a collection of stories set in the same town by multiple authors. You will see character crossovers but each author (unless specifically stated) writes their tales as standalone.
Viv and Breckin have TWO books: Awaken the Soul and Avenge the Heart. You can comfortably read these two stories without diving into the other Havenwood Falls books.
I would love for you to take a chance on these two the next time you’re feeling in the mood for something a little extra.
Available on #KindleUnlimited and on Amazon.
Here’s a peek at the beginning…
White.
Everywhere I look. Pure, undiluted, untouched.
Colorado in December.
Banking left, the tip of my wing disturbs a snow-laden pine bough, scattering ice crystals. The mountain forest is peaceful this late in the afternoon, though the threat of a storm lurks in the gray sky. A gust rolls in from the north, and I snap my wings, letting the airstream guide my path toward home.
How long will this peace last? This morning’s message from Elias served as an eerie reminder of my time limit. Four months. Tucking my wings, I shift, free-falling toward the ground, dodging trees as I dart in and around the woods. Freedom. I arch skyward, shooting high above Mount Alexa. The ground, the falls, the trees—they are blemishes on a snowy white canvas.
A scream penetrates the peace. I twist, levitating among the clouds, my gaze narrowing on the ground far below.
The crimson trail, smeared for yards before the dense forest covers the evidence, is hard to miss.
Blood. Thick, human blood.
This is Havenwood Falls—it’s not an abnormal occurrence in the forest. But . . .
I dive, lured by a scent that burns my nostrils and confuses my senses.
I’m on the ground within moments of her scream. Her keening death cries prick at my skin, sending an unfamiliar sensation skittering up my spine and across my wings. Angry snarls join her moans. I should leave, yet I press on—following the blood trail. The creature drags her instead of making a clean kill. Most shifters kill, rather than play with, their food. I maintain distance, preferring to remain in the good graces of the other supernatural beings within Havenwood Falls. Angel or not, minding my business keeps the peace. History has proven this. The world is a better place when all creatures, good and evil, play nice together. That type of thinking will be my downfall in four months, if I’m not careful.
An unnatural calm claims the still woods, and my senses sharpen. I move forward as an ache builds up in my chest. Her cries diminish, but her scent strengthens. It’s familiar. The spicy combination of ginger root and mint. I duck beneath low branches and break through thicker brush, my steps quickening as I track them. Another growl disturbs the woods, and I pause. Twenty feet ahead, a shadow of fur and menace crosses my path—retreating. The feeling in my chest intensifies like a fist crushing my heart.
Ginger, mint, and something—more. They inundate me as I maneuver around a thick tree and come to a stop.
She is bathed in blood. Her long golden hair spreads around her head, a silken halo on a snowy pillow of white. From my vantage point, I cannot see her face, but her scent—her perfume—gives her away.
Vivienne Freeman.
And above her lifeless body, he is ageless and brings with him the kiss of death. A reaper. His corporeal existence remains unseen to the human eye.
Her name begs to be spoken. A kick to the gut, it is an urge unlike any other. The image of her, two desks in front of me in chemistry for the past few months, is superimposed on the gruesome scene before me. The wisps of hair framing her face, her elegant profile, the way she hunches over her desk while she works. Movement breaks the memory. The reaper’s swirling mixture of light and dark extends toward her face, and a thread of black touches her forehead reverently. The perceived intimacy compels me across snow and blood, my wings bared as a warning to this angelic host.
“Leave her be.”
Reapers have no affiliation with Heaven or Hell. They’re vessels of Death. Wardens sent to usher souls from this life into the next. I’ve had limited interaction with others of my kind, but I know about egos. I’m the son of an angel, with a human soul, thanks to the woman who gave me life. One of the Nephilim. In hierarchy alone, I win.
Dropping to my knees, I take in Vivienne’s shredded jacket and blood-soaked clothing. Her face matches the snow—pale, deathly. Her lips colorless. Her heart? My hand presses against her chest. The pulse is faint, but it beats. Barely.
