“If the world is full of monsters, how do we know who wears the crown…”
Hendrix: In the dark of the night he bared his soul, delivering a shocking event that should’ve changed everything.
So why in the light of day, does everything appear the same…?
The further I’m immersed in this world he calls the ‘elite’, the more I don’t understand. And it’s not only his world I’m afraid I’m falling for, but the Golden Crown himself as well.
But Pax still has secrets.
And I want him to trust me, like a flame wanting fire.
Because despite his world being nothing as it seems, I’m not sure I could walk away even if I wanted to.
Because the truth be told, I don’t want to.
I want him.
Paxton: In the dark of the night I revealed a truth, delivering the brutal reality of what the elite really means.
So why in the light of day, does everything appear the same…?
It’s the same cat and mouse games, and the same political, power tricks where the Golden Crown is all they see. It’s all they want to see.
Except for her.
But there are things I can’t tell her. Things I don’t think she’ll understand yet.
And I need her to trust me, like a fire needing flame.
Because despite me knowing what this world does to those who fall victim to it, I’m not sure I could walk away from Hendrix, even if I wanted to.
I took my lip beneath my teeth before opening my soul up as much as I was capable of. The words I were about to ask, meant more to me than she would ever know.
“I need you to trust me.”
I held my breath. Ready to wait for her reply but was surprised at how fast it actually flew from her mouth.
“I do.”
I stilled. “What? You trust me?”
I didn’t believe it. I was almost angry at Hendrix’s answer.
How could she trust me after everything I’ve put her through?
Everything I’ve hidden. It didn’t make any sense.
What also made no sense was her reaction either because she shook her head before taking a seat on the edge of her bed (which was too far away from me) where she played with the hem of her tee that was resting on her lap.
“Crazy huh? That I trust you. But… I can’t explain why I do. I’ve just always….”
“You’ve always what?”
She glances up, piercing my heart with her hazel eyes honing in on me with so much raw emotion. “I’ve always…” she starts, before seemingly coming to some realisation within herself. “When I was younger… I always sensed when things were wrong you know? Like that sixth sense that something bad was about to happen, or when danger was nearby. Even when I was too young to really understand my situation, I always knew deep down the kind of dangerous situation I was in. That it wasn’t normal. Well, it wasn’t everyones normal at least. I don’t expect you to understand, but I’m sure from those photos you saw that you have some idea of what I grew up in.” She pauses and my fists ball at the reminder instantly. I don’t have time to let that anger consume me though before she continues. “But I’ve just always trusted my instincts. They’ve never let me down and I guess in a lot of ways I’ve relied on it since I had no actual family to have my back. And…” she pauses again, nervously this time, when she notices me taking slow, measured steps toward her.
“And….?” I whisper, until I’m standing over her causing her head to tilt back to look up at me.
“And my gut? For some reason it trusts you Paxton. Despite you making me nervous, despite the things you say and the things you do. I feel safe around you. Protected. Like the only person capable of hurting me when you’re near – is no one else. Only…. you.”
My hand finds her cheek, letting her warmth seep into my palm. A palm, that was capable of so much destruction. So much hurt. But everything she just said was true. Because I’d always had this sense to protect her, like somehow our souls recognised the pain and destruction we both endured in our lives and wanted to somehow heal together. In most of our time together though, I wanted to protect her from me too. But this girl….
I held her as delicately as a guy like I could, when she gave me something of hers that was beyond precious. Her trust. I almost couldn’t believe she was giving it to me but it was something I was determined to keep. No matter the cost.
“You never asked me you know.”
“I never asked you what?”
“If I had something to do with… You never asked me.”
Her small fingers wrap around my wrist that’s still cupping her cheek and her eyes never sway from mine. “I may not know everything about you Pax, but I know you aren’t capable of something like that. I’ve been around monsters my entire life and you aren’t one. You’re not.”
I suck in a breath, wanting so much more in this moment when I breathe, “You called me Pax.”
She tilts her head, a knowing smirk crossing her delicate face. “It’s your name isn’t it?”
“I guess I like how it sounds coming from you.”
Then for the first time in a long time, I let myself feel…
Kathleen grew up in the south-western suburbs of Sydney, where family holidays by the beach and tormenting her two younger brothers, was how she spent her early years. But at the young age of 11, when she submitted a short story to a talented writing competition through the NSW schools program, not only did she win it, but she quickly found a love for it as well.
Throughout her schooling, writing was a hobby, along with sketching and various sports. But fast forward to her adult years when she moved to Europe to follow her husbands field hockey dream, and her love for writing surged to the surface.
Her debut story, Cut, was penned over two years where her hobby seemed to lead to the completion of Pennys’ world. The rest of the series came the following year.
Kathleen enjoys writing stories full of self-discovery, emotional journeys and of course, love.
Something else she loves is hearing from her readers, so feel free to follow her blog or drop her an email.
For signed copies of her novels, more information about upcoming stories, or to follow her blog, please visit her website www.kathleenmaree.weebly.com
He might be one of the best riders in the world, but she’ll give him the buck of his life.
WOULD YOU RATHER… Go through your entire life without ever falling in love? OR… Have a rough-and-tumble cowboy stomp all over your heart with his sharpened spurs before riding off into the sunset like John f***ing Wayne?
Yeah, that happened. And frankly, I knew better. All cowboys are trouble. I’ve grown up around them my entire life, so I know how they operate. I’ve broken some of the toughest horses in the business. But for some reason, I found this thoroughbred impossible to resist.
A lot of good it did me too. Nothing but tears and comfort eating in the aftermath.
Suddenly, after a year away with no phone calls or texts to show for it, he’s back. He thinks we can pick up where we left off. But I’ve got news for him: His eight seconds with me are already up.
Little do I know, there’s a reason why he’s come back. And it’s the absolute last thing I expect.
“Does every cowboy on the goddamn planet want between your legs?”
I don’t know how or why, but I just knew I was going to have to do some sort of explaining regarding my conversation with Landon. But am I really obligated to? I don’t think I owe anyone, even Trace, any explanations at all.
With ire fueling my movements, I spin around, eyes full of warning. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
A muscle pops in Trace’s jaw. “Who was that guy?”
I’m surprised I’m actually willing to appease him by answering. “Someone I used to date. Which falls under the category of none of your business.”
Eyes narrowing to slits, he mutters, “none of my business,” as he backs me up against the concrete wall of the darkened hallway between the bathrooms and the concession stand. When he eventually has me trapped between his arms, he presses his fists against the wall and shifts all his weight onto one foot.
“I think I at least have the right to be annoyed by the fact that he couldn’t stop eye-fucking you as you walked away. Wouldn’t you say, Quinn?”
Oh, the nerve of this man!
My chin goes up in the air. “That doesn’t give you the right to be angry with me.”
“Whoever said I was angry with you?” he asks through clenched teeth. “I’m angry at him for looking at you that way. For ever having had the right to. Or maybe I’m just angry at myself for caring in the first place.”
How he always manages to make my anger pull an abrupt U-turn I’ll never know. Something about his unpracticed, candid reactions just get to me. Even if I don’t like what he’s saying, I’d rather be disappointed with the truth than be happy with a lie.
But this particular truth doesn’t disappoint me at all.
The fact that he’s jealous of Landon coils tightly around my chest, making it feel like all my insides are being squished together.
“Why do you care?” I find myself unwisely asking.
“Because, goddammit. If you’re going to ride any cowboy this summer, it’s going to damn well be me.”
Melanie grew up in the Midwest, but she loves living in the Southeast (where the beaches are!) now with her husband and daughter.
Melanie’s other passion is traveling and seeing the world. With anthropology degrees under their belts, she and her husband have made it their goal in life to see as many archaeological sites around the world as possible.
She has a horrible food addiction to pasta and candy (not together…ew). And she gets sad when her wine rack is empty. At the end of the day, she is a true romantic at heart. She loves writing the cheesy and corny of romantic comedies, and the sassy and sexy of suspense. She aims to make her readers swoon, laugh out loud, maybe sweat a little, and above all, fall in love. Go visit Melanie’s website and sign up for her newsletter to stay updated on release dates, teasers, and other details for all of her projects!
1) Unearth the truth about vampires and, 2) Become hella famous.
Nowhere on that list did I have “die” or “get turned into a bloodsucker.” But guess what? Life doesn’t always go according to plan. Now, thanks to an unfortunate back-alley encounter, I’m the newest member of the undead country club (fangs, coffin, and all). And my savior? Sire? Whatever…
Freaking. Dracula. Himself.
Even stranger, he claims I’m his mate. Like… eternal love. But come on! I don’t have time for that. Not only do I need to track down my attempted murderer, but I also need to learn how to be a vampire. Falling in love is the last thing on my mind right now.
Reality came crashing down, and I jerked back. I’d just kissed Dracula. Vlad. The Count. Whatever. The man had more names than I did panties at the moment. Which, speaking of, I needed to phone Lucy and ask her to go shopping, since we’d only packed weekend bags.
But that was a different, easily solvable problem. Nothing like this. Kissing Dracula had to rate stupider than busting into a vampire club to expose illegal bloodletting, which turned out not to be illegal. Impulsive, remember?
This right here was proof. Two nights under this man’s roof, and I was making out with him and swapping blood like we were lovers. Gah! I shouldn’t have thought that. I didn’t need the word “lovers” in my head right now. Not with him standing so close, eyes still blazing, and certainly not with my lady bits still waving their pom-poms and cheering me on.
Kissing Dracula was stupid, right?
Maybe?
Who the hell even knew anymore? “I, uh, should go.”
Vlad inched toward me. “Go where? This is your room.”
Right. My room. Because I’d just showered after attacking Harold. And here I was, getting my freak on with the Count himself. If he could just stop watching me like I was the cherry on top of a very delicious strawberry sundae, that would be greatly appreciated. I couldn’t think with him standing there, all smoldering eyes and swollen lips.
The invitation was clear, as were his desires. I wasn’t one of those women who was blind to the opposite sex. If I so much as gave the word, Vlad and I would tumble into that tiny bed next to us.
And damn, I was tempted.
On the one hand, I was a grown-ass woman, allowed to kiss whoever the hell she wanted. But on the other, this man was five hundred years older than me—which, ick—and a vampire. All right, maybe that last one was unfair, considering I was also a vampire. But if he’d never been turned, he would be rotting away in a grave right now. Then again, so would I. Not a very sexy thought. Why focus on the what ifs, though? He had been turned, and instead of a rotting corpse, he was a downright gorgeous beast of a man who I wanted to dry hump like a randy mutt. Decisions, decisions….
“Okay, then you need to go,” I told him. “I, uh, need to be alone. Is that okay? I need to think. And I can’t do that with you here.”
Vlad inclined his head and blinked, the heat fizzling from his gaze. “Very well.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course. I’ll be in my office, should you need anything.”
A shiver rolled through my body. I could think of one thing I needed, but my last impulsive decision had gotten me killed. I really needed to start thinking things through. And since I wasn’t allowed to go to a bar and get wasted—probably wouldn’t even work anyway—there was only one other thing I could think to do and that was call Lucy.
Vlad took my hand and kissed my knuckles before exiting my room.
I slumped against the wall and blew out a relieved breath. Man, he knew how to wind me up. And he hadn’t even done anything. Just walked into my room. Was that all it took now to get my engine revving?
Kinsley Adams is a thirty-something-year-old author who stopped counting when she turned twenty-five. When she isn’t writing uproariously hilarious romantic comedies, she’s raising her womb-gremlin with the hopes that he might one day become the world’s first Supreme Leader.
