by Theresa DaLayne
Limitless Publishing
Summary from Goodreads:
Tara may have spent years in an asylum, but that doesn’t make her crazy–just fearless.
Dropped in Moscow with a the group of enchanted Mayan descendants, seventeen-year-old Tara is forced to wait on the sideline while her best friend—the Stone Guardian— battles to reclaim a friend’s soul trapped in the underworld.
It sucks being ordinary when everyone else is superhuman…
A mortal girl with a tainted past, Tara is left to deal with an overwhelming sense of inadequacy. Her boyfriend, Peter, is a healer. Her best friend is The Guardian, and everyone else is a powerhouse of awesome strengths. Meanwhile, she struggles to leave her childhood of abuse in the past, and while Peter picks her up every time she falls, it becomes clear he deserves better.
When they opened Pandora’s Box, hell came pouring out…
When she’s given a chance to aid in the group’s mission, Tara is eager to pull her own weight, even if it means uncovering buried memories of being held prisoner by the underworld general. Now haunted with flashbacks of torture, Tara wanders from the safety of Peter’s arms into a city of depravity and corruption. And amidst all this evil is a young man with an agenda of his own, who leads her down a road that will either prove she is a hero at heart, or drag her into a world she’s always feared.
He wants revenge, she wants redemption. And in an underground ring of missing girls and bloody sacrifices, only the fearless can survive…
Pre-order Link (click on image for link):
Book One (click on image for Goodreads link):
PROMO;
Tara rested her head
on Peter’s chest while they lay in his bed, watching TV. She kicked
the blanket off of her, and then sighed. She should be happy. She
finally had a family of sorts—a boyfriend who would do anything for
her, and a best friend who was more like a sister. But she wasn’t
happy, and she couldn’t tell anyone.
Peter’s bed was
somehow more comfortable than hers, and he seemed to want her there.
That didn’t stop her from feeling terrible over waking him up—for
the third time that week. Her plush bed looked inviting, but it was
home to her horrible nightmares. At least she wished they were
nightmares…
She used to find
solace in Zanya, back in the orphanage, when they were all each other
had. Funny how life had changed so much, so fast. Best friends, they
spent their entire lives dreaming of a future outside of the
orphanage’s walls, only to be sucked into a reality that surpassed
even their
idea of insane.
Back then it was
Zanya whose dreams were filled with terror.
They’d been taken
from the orphanage to Renato’s estate in Belize, where they’d
experienced so much, and discovered Zanya’s dreams were real. Then
they traveled to Moscow. That’s when things had gone from bad to
terrible for Tara.
Her throat
tightened. She curled her fingers around Peter’s T-shirt. Half
asleep and with the TV on, he didn’t seem to notice.
She fought to stay
awake out of fear of reliving her time spent with Sarian, the
underworld general. The nightly reminders hadn’t gone away. In
fact, they had only gotten worse.
It was just like
when she was a kid, before she was taken from her mother by child
protective services. Then, the fear of another encounter with her
mother’s “boyfriends” had coiled around her in a paralyzing
way, stalking her day and night.
Her eyelids grew
heavy, and her muscles ached for just a few hours of sleep. Being
close to Peter somehow made it all better, for the moment. He chased
away her demons and made her forget.
Peter pushed one of
her curls aside and placed a soft kiss behind her ear. “How are you
feeling?” he said in a groggy whisper.
She shrugged. He
nudged her shoulder with his chin and rested his lips on the curve of
her neck. His breath teased her skin.
She smiled and
cringed away. “Knock it off. You know I’m ticklish.”
“Mmm.” He
trailed kisses down to her shoulder.
The tickling
subsided, and Tara’s eyes fluttered closed. Her lips parted,
fingers tightening around the blankets underneath her.
The smell of fresh
rain filled the air. God, she loved his scent. The first time Peter
had stepped close to her at Renato’s house, it had washed over her
like a wave of relief. After that, she just couldn’t stay away.
“You think you can
get some sleep?” he whispered. “You need it.”
Tara composed
herself and nodded. Even though he didn’t push the issue, a tiny
piece of her wished he’d keep kissing her neck to see where it
went—see if she felt comfortable, without committing to anything
from the beginning. After all, it was she
who didn’t want to take the next step in their relationship. Peter,
however, would never put her into a situation she didn’t ask for.
He loved her too much. It was the first time she had experienced that
kind of commitment from anyone. There was no way she’d risk ruining
it with sex.
Tara sat up, rubbing
the tight muscles in her neck. Every nightmare threw her body into a
more tense and agitated state. Her appetite was all but gone, her
sense of humor dimmed, and since the flashbacks had become more
vivid, she’d nearly lost the ability to smile.
Peter’s hands
replaced hers and worked around her shoulders, massaging the knots
into submission. Warmth radiated from his fingertips and spread
through her body, soothing the tension. His healing ability had come
in handy more than once over the last few weeks.
She exhaled and
melted into him. “Thanks.” She glanced at the digital clock. It
was almost four in the morning. Guilt tore at her. “I really have
to stop coming in here every time a memory breaks through. I’m not
five.”
“No, what you
really have to do is tell Marzena that you’re remembering more.”
Marzena, the group’s
dreamwalker, had helped Tara unlock the hidden door in her mind,
allowing them to find the memories to locate Sarian. If only she
could go back in time and block that door with concrete and chains to
seal the memories inside...
“I won’t do
that,” Tara said. “Not yet anyway. It’s not that bad.” Only
bad enough to wake her in a cold sweat with her stomach knotted and
muscles so tender she was achy for days. “Besides, she isn’t even
in Moscow, so it’s not like she could do anything about it.”
“She would come
back if you needed her.”
“Well, I don’t.”
Not if that meant putting her issues on display. “She already
reached into my head once. I don’t need her doing it again.”
Peter leaned forward
and wrapped his arms around her. “Even if it’ll help?” He
kissed her temple. “Come on, Tara. You know you can’t keep doing
this.”
He was right, but
she couldn’t admit it aloud. She had been so selfish, staggering to
his bedroom, shaking like a leaf. Not exactly a romantic midnight
rendezvous. “I’m sorry I keep dragging you into this.”
If she could just
leave him alone, at least one of them would get some rest and not
feel like a zombie.
With her stomach in
knots, she scooted to the side of the mattress and stared blankly at
the wall. Lights from the TV danced, casting shadows over the room.
“Whatever you’re
dealing with, I’m here for you.” His voice was soft and
comforting.
She swallowed down
the urge to cry.
Zanya was still
working to counter Sarian by travelling decades into the past with
Renato, Arwan, Hawa, and Jayden, leaving Marzena, Tara, and Peter
behind. Tara had tried to curb her bitterness about that, especially
since she had nobody to channel it toward. It wasn’t Zanya’s
choice to leave them. That’s what she kept telling herself, anyway.
Tara rubbed her
throbbing eyes. It was probably good that Marzena had gone back to
Belize to manage the workers while they patched up the damage to
Renato’s house. It needed to be done before they all went back—if
they went back. Renato’s house had already become her home. Her
heart ached at the memory of it under attack. And with Marzena gone,
no one had to know Tara was steadily losing her mind. Again.
Peter grabbed the
remote and flipped through the channels. “There’s nothing on
that’s not in Russian.”
She glanced at the
screen. Had the actors been speaking Russian? Showed how much she’d
been paying attention. He stopped on a news station with a woman
speaking English in a heavy Russian accent. Behind her, emergency
lights from police cars and ambulances flashed. Tara sighed and
slumped her shoulders forward. “The news?”
“There’s nothing
else on.” He lifted the remote. “You want me to just turn it
off?”
She shook her head.
“Nah. Leave it. At least it’s in English.” She tuned in for the
first time.
“Officers
responded to a call of a suspected gang clash outside of the Moscow
Academy of Science. Authorities say a confrontation occurred between
a student and an alleged gang member when the student’s younger
sister was forced into a gang-marked vehicle. The victim, who was
wounded at the scene, was a freshman. Sadly, he died before the
ambulance could respond, while the alleged attacker, who was also
wounded, is now being treated at the Yakimanka Hospital where he is
in critical condition.”
Tara pushed the
power button on the remote and the screen winked off. “I changed my
mind. Even if it is in English, that’s just depressing.”
“Yeah. Seriously.”
“Poor guy,” she
whispered, imagining the look of terror on the brother’s face while
his little sister was being dragged away. “I hope they get her
back.”
Peter moved to the
far side of the bed. “Get who back?”
“The girl who was
kidnapped.”
“Yeah.” His yawn
deepened her guilt. “Come on.” He patted the mattress. “Lie
down next to me.”
It was still dark
out. If she left now, he could catch at least a few hours of sleep
before the morning. She stood up and walked toward the door.
“Where are you
going?”
She paused with her
fingers wrapped around the handle. “I’m letting you get some
rest. I’ll be fine until morning.”
Whether that would
prove true or not, only time would tell.
About the Author
Theresa DaLayne is a north-south-east-western kind of girl with a quirky personality to match her nomad life. Born in California, she migrated to three different cities in Washington State, a tiny island in Alaska, North Carolina, and finally to the suburbs of Ohio where she currently lives with her husband, three kids, vegetarian cat, and her ungrateful fish.
Always on the lookout for a new story, Theresa is a shameless eavesdropper and will take anyone who provides inspiration and mold them into a character without a second thought. She enjoys writing both paranormal and contemporary stories, considering her mind wanders between worlds of fantasy while she’s forced to live in the real world, very much against her will.
Always on the lookout for a new story, Theresa is a shameless eavesdropper and will take anyone who provides inspiration and mold them into a character without a second thought. She enjoys writing both paranormal and contemporary stories, considering her mind wanders between worlds of fantasy while she’s forced to live in the real world, very much against her will.
Author Links:
No comments:
Post a Comment