Book
Description:
Her
voice is enchanting; his soul is black…
Madison
Carter has been terrified of Scott Lee since the night he saved her
from an evil sorcerer – then melted into a man-eating monster
before her eyes. The werewolf is a slave to the moon, but Madison’s
nightmares are not.
Despite
her fears, when Madison’s brother, Clinton, is bitten by a
werewolf, she knows there is only one man who can help. A man who
frightens her all the more because even in her nightmares, he also
thrills her.
Together
for the first time since that terrible night, Scott and Madison drive
to Clinton’s home only to discover that he’s vanished. Frantic
now, Madison must overcome her fears and uncover hidden strengths if
she hopes to save him. And
she’s
not the only one fighting inner demons. Scott’s are literal, and
they have him convinced that he will never deserve the woman he
loves.
*Stand-alone
companion to the Cassie Scot series
Excerpt-Prologue
Madison
couldn't move. The only muscle in her body capable of stirring at all
was her heart, and it felt like it was trying to make up for the
rest. No ropes bound her. Nothing visible pressed her back and legs
into the coarse beige carpet of her new rental home. Yet even as she
writhed and twisted against unseen restraints, she knew she was
trapped. Tied to the ground in a way that made her feel like a virgin
sacrifice atop an altar.
The
man looming over her, chanting spells and arranging crystals, didn't
look like a powerful sorcerer. David McClellan had too weak a chin
and beady little eyes. Those eyes, brown as mud and just as
compassionate, told her without words that they would be the last
thing she saw.
She
didn't even understand why! Not that it would make a difference if
she did. But she wasn't anyone special. She wasn't important. She was
just an elementary school music teacher – or would be after she
finished a semester of student teaching. This kind of thing didn't
happen to her. To her friend, Cassie, scion of a powerful family of
sorcerers, maybe. But Madison had no family connections and almost no
magic aside from her beautiful, subtly enchanting voice. Why would
anyone hurt her for a song?
A
tear fell sideways into her sweat-dampened hair, joining countless
others and doing exactly as much good. How long had she lain here,
helpless? Minutes? Hours? It
might
only have been seconds. The box of “Card and Board Games” she had
been carrying into the house lay on its side a foot or two away, some
of its contents now strewn across the bare living room floor. There
hadn't been any warning. One second she was on the way to her new
bedroom to unpack her tenth or eleventh box, the next instant she was
on the floor. Immobile. Helpless. Confused. Terrified.
Oh
Lord! Why hast thou forsaken me?
There
was magic in the air, growing stronger with each new crystal David
arranged into a pattern only he could see. Cold, deadly magic that
reinforced her every childhood fear. Her father had told her that
magic was from the devil. Was this what he'd meant? Was this her
punishment for brushing up against the world of sorcery, no matter
how
lightly?
David
placed one last crystal before ceasing his chant. The silence felt
ominous, like a lull before the storm, and when he moved away, out of
her sight, a fresh wave of panic seized her. She strained anew at her
bindings until the scent of incense filled the air. She had a sudden,
vivid memory of Palm Sunday Mass, and of Father Owen making the sign
of the cross as he wafted the same scent over his congregation.
Father Owen didn't believe magic was evil; he had told her more than
once not to listen to her father's “superstitious nonsense.”
The
time had come to pull herself together. To think. She wasn't
helpless. She had a little magic of her own, even if the thought of
using it made her feel sick inside. God had not forsaken her. He had
given her a tool if only she could rein in her stampeding heart rate
long enough to search her memory for what little knowledge she
possessed.
First,
she had to find her quiet place. Madison drew in a deep, shuddering
breath and started to close her eyes, when a glint of something
metallic caught her attention. She stared at the long, lethal dagger
in David's hands, an ornate golden hilt largely hidden within his
iron fist. His eyes drifted up and down the length of her bound body
before settling on her midriff. He lowered the blade.
He
was going to cut her. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself
against the expected pain. Or worse.
Think,
Madison. Focus!
She
took one last steadying breath. Then she counted. Breathe in one ...
two ... three ... four ... breathe out ... five ... six ... seven ...
Her
concentration snapped when cold metal bit into warm flesh. Her eyes
popped open, her muscles strained once more against invisible bonds,
and she screamed.
Wait,
she could scream? She had a voice?
“Silence,”
David commanded.
Her
throat continued to work, but no sound emerged. She felt like a fish
being gutted, choking and spluttering as David returned to the work
of cutting into the soft, sensitive flesh of her belly. Yet even as
tears refilled her eyes and fear devoured her heart some part of her
recognized that her guts remained intact. Whatever David was doing to
her with the dagger involved tracing shallow patterns across the
surface of her skin.
Fight
the pain. Take deep breaths. Ground and center. She was not in the
empty living room of a house she had not quite moved into yet, she
was at church, singing in the choir. Above her, Jesus hung from a
cross, a crown of thorns atop his head, a soft glow surrounding him.
She usually found the magic within that glow. She reached for it...
“Stop
that!” David slapped her hard across the face.
Once
again her eyes flew open. She saw the dagger dripping with blood –
her blood. Had her feeble grab for magic actually made a difference?
David seemed to have noticed something, but what?
“You're
just making this harder on yourself,” David said.
“What
do you want?” Madison tried to ask. Her mouth moved, her lips
forming the question, but no sound emerged.
She
didn't think he would answer; he couldn't even have heard the
question, but to her surprise he only hesitated a moment before
saying, “Your soul.”
About
the Author:
Christine
Amsden has been writing fantasy and science fiction for as long as
she can remember. She loves to write and it is her dream that others
will be inspired by this love and by her stories. Speculative fiction
is fun, magical, and imaginative but great speculative fiction is
about real people defining themselves through extraordinary
situations. Christine writes primarily about people and
relationships, and it is in this way that she strives to make science
fiction and fantasy meaningful for everyone.
At
the age of 16, Christine was diagnosed with Stargardt’s Disease, a
condition that affects the retina and causes a loss of central
vision. She is now legally blind, but has not let this slow her down
or get in the way of her dreams.
In
addition to writing, Christine teaches workshops on writing at Savvy
Authors. She also does some freelance editing work.
Christine
currently lives in the Kansas City area with her husband, Austin, who
has been her biggest fan and the key to her success. They have two
beautiful children.
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