SYNOPSIS
Sometimes when you can’t go back, the only way out is to descend into the darkness.
my Captor
When I woke in that place, I just wanted to survive. But survival came at a cost, for which they demanded my will and body.
my Master
With pain came acceptance. Fully-dependent on the man who claimed me, I learned to appreciate what I had-life and relative safety.
my Protector
I watched him spill blood and tend my injuries. With betrayal came a revelation.
The only way out was to bring them all down or die trying.
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EXCERPT
Through
the haze of sleep, I felt hands on me. Cold and rough. I thought for a fleeting
moment that it might have been Kyle. Then, I remembered our break up. It had
happened weeks ago, but maybe that part was the dream. My memory was fucked and
I couldn’t latch onto a thought long enough to ride it out of the fog. Too many
hands. They groped and pulled—rough against my skin and digging into muscle and
bone. I tried to retreat, my back pressed into a hard surface beneath me, and
my nostrils filled with the smell of musk and damp stale air. I had no idea
where I was, or how I’d gotten there. I kicked and gasped, trying to get back
to the surface where reality lurked, shimmering in the distance, but just out
of reach, like the sun on the surface of the water during a dive. A hand
latched onto my hair and held my head back. My eyelids were finally freed from
the sticky muck that held me in semi-consciousness, and I opened them to find
myself staring up into unfamiliar green eyes. I only held his gaze for a few seconds—if
that—but it seemed like it lasted for hours as my brain fought to categorize
the details. Its useless attempt to understand what was going on. The man
clutching my hair had vivid green eyes, but they may as well have been black
given the emotionless void they displayed. His hair was shaggy, brown with a
mix of grey, the same colors that stood out in his unkempt stubble. As if he
needed any help looking rough. He exhaled and his breath settled over my face,
reeking of booze and cigarettes. The smell made me queasy, but I didn’t have
time to dwell on that, as another set of hands tugged at my jeans. My gaze
traveled around the room, taking in the small crowd. At least half a dozen men
surrounded the table where they had me spread out like a holiday feast. All
dressed differently, from ragged tank tops to well-fitting dark button-down
shirts, but they all projected an air of unchecked danger. Necks marked with
tattoos, hands covered in callouses and scars. Scruffy faces accented their
sneers and smirks, as they stood above me staring down with eyes starved of
humanity and full of lust. Apparently, they didn’t expect me to put up a fight,
because aside from the hand tangled in my hair, no one seemed concerned with
keeping a tight grip on me. Probably because they outnumbered me, and I assumed
they would have no problem beating the crap out of me as I struggled. They’d
downright enjoy it. Unfortunately, I didn’t fully consider how that scenario
would play out. I bucked and managed to knee the one pulling on my waistband in
the face. He grunted, but I can’t imagine I inflicted as much pain as his
retaliatory blow to my ribs. I sucked in air and rolled, curling around the
injury and gasping for each painful breath as the sickening throb exacerbated
my confusion.
AUTHOR BIO
I’ve
been coming up with stories for as long as I can remember, and in elementary
school I began writing them all down. Ghosts and vampires, have always been my
favorite beings to write about. Maybe it was growing up with a grandma who
always told me about how she’d always rush home to watch Dark Shadows, and
growing up reading and watching anything paranormal that I could find.
My
debut, Fractured Legacy (Paranormal Urban Fantasy novella), was released on
October 22, 2013, and the sequel Beyond the Divide is currently in progress and
expected to release in early 2014.
I
am also taking a departure from the paranormal world with a BDSM Romance, Bound
and Unbroken, which will also be released in early 2014. I go where my
characters lead me, and Eric and Lena decided that I needed a definite break
from the paranormal.
When
I’m not spending time with the voices in my head, I work in business consulting
and hang out with my husband and all of our furry family members.
Random Stuff:
I
LOVE Rum, but that’s probably not a secret.
I
love sexy cars more than I love rum. My top picks would be a ’65 Mustang,
practically any Bugatti Veyron, or an Aston Martin Vanquish.
I
once based a character in a story on my husband, and the character died.
Don’t
bother trying to figure it out, I never released that book.
I’ve
never met some of my closest friends in person–some of them live on the other
side of the world.
I
never set out for anyone at work to know that I’m a writer, but now they buy my
books, so it’s a good deal.
I’m
not terribly good at being girly–I don’t wear makeup, only own 4 pairs of
shoes, and I’ve never had a manicure.
I
learned to handle a gun before I learned long division.
I
cuss like a sailor unless I’m around my grandma.
While
most of the people in my graduate research classes were buried in books, I was
glued to the TV researching the evolving portrayal of “Indianness”.
I’ve
seen Disturbed in concert 3 times.
I
still have a crush on Jason David Frank (aka Tommy Oliver the Green/White
Ranger)
I
work with my husband and it’s the 3rd time we’ve worked for the same business.
If
I’m not watching Top Gear, I’m probably watching something that was filmed
before I was born. Currently, Dick Van Dyke is in my DVD player.
I
have a phobia of crickets.
Should
I throw you one hell of a fact if you’ve made it this far? I was diagnosed with
PTSD two and a half years ago, and my doctor suggested that I
start writing again to help cope with the symptoms.
Where to stalk Skye:
Amazon
Author page: http://amzn.to/1gVX96i
Facebook
Page: http://on.fb.me/Hmwsrp
Google
+: http://bit.ly/1939pfs
Wattpad:
http://bit.ly/16hi2Sp
Pinterest:
http://bit.ly/19NyoTs
Goodreads:
http://bit.ly/18vzdMP
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