by Sarra Cannon
The sounds around me grew even louder. A mix of shrieks, breaking glass, and grunts had me fighting with my eyelids to get them open, but it was no use. I was too weak.
“Help me get her untied,” a male voice hissed.
I struggled once again to open my eyes, but I couldn’t.
“I’m doing it,” another man replied, “She’s the last one. We’re fine.”
The first voice sighed. “But she’s lost a lot of blood. The others haven’t.” I felt the gentle touch of someone sweeping me up into their arms. “We need to get her help.”
“Then get her to help. I’ll stay around to take care of things here.” The second voice was gruff and held none of the concern the first one did.
“If I hadn’t seen that vampire she’d been with we’d have been too late.”
“But we weren’t. I’ll see you later.”
I heard a scratchy sound, and then more shattering of glass.
I needed to see who held me, so I worked harder to open my eyes as I felt a moment of weightlessness. I forced my eyes open and closed them again quickly. I was dreaming. There was no other explanation for how we were airborne. I’d never dreamed of flying before, but then again I’d never felt so dizzy and out of it before either.
The next time I opened my lids I was staring directly into a set of beautiful blue eyes and we were definitely on the ground. In the moonlight, I took in the strong features and blond hair of the man who held me. Large, black wings spanned out behind him. It was him again. “It’s you.”
“Don’t speak. You can’t afford to waste any energy.” His words were terse, but not mean. “But you need to stay awake. I’m afraid if you lose consciousness again we might not be able to revive you again.”
“Revive me again?”
He still held me securely against him. “There’s no time to explain, we need to go. Just relax, we’ll get help soon.” He sounded like he was saying those words for himself more than me, but I nodded as I hung on to his neck. The action sent another searing pain through me.
The man winced as though he were the one who was hurt. He reached out to touch my face, but he dropped his hand before it could make contact.
“Wait. Where are my friends?”
“They’re safe and on their way back to New Orleans. I promise.”
I nodded. I had no proof they’d moved my friends, but I had to believe it. Why go through such effort to save me just to leave the others?
“I’m going to shift you slightly so I can take off.”
“Take off?” I asked with confusion.
“I’m sorry but it would take too long to get there any other way.” He moved me so that my back pressed against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around my waist. “We’ll be there soon.”
With that he took a few steps forward and then my feet left the ground. We were flying, and I was definitely awake. I’d have added wild hallucinations to the list of weekend craziness, only this couldn’t have been one—it was just too real. We moved higher up in the sky.
I looked down at the ground in time to see a big glowing area of red and orange with rising smoke. They’d burned the old house down.
My eyes closed, but I opened them long enough to make sure I hadn’t been imagining it. We were flying. I tried to look around me, but I couldn’t. I was far too weak. My eyes closed again, and I settled back against his firm chest.
***
“You have to help her.” My hero’s voice woke me up. He was holding me in his arms, and we were back on the ground. We were inside this time. From the looks of the hallway we were in, it was a house.
“Come, let me see.” A low female voice answered.
He started to lower me down, but I clung to him.
The woman chuckled. “It seems she’s attached to you, Owen.”
Owen? His name was Owen. The name seemed to fit.
“I don’t know her.”
“You just found her in a vampire nest?”
“I’ve seen her a few times, and I got suspicious.” He exhaled loudly. “None of that matters. Just fix her.”
“She’s not going to let go, so you’ll have to sit with her on your lap.”
“That’s fine.” He shifted us and sat down. I didn’t care where I was as long as he stayed. He gave me the only comfort I’d had all night.
Someone touched my face, and I opened my eyes. An old woman’s dark, brown eyes locked on mine. “You’ve been mixed up with a witch too, I see.”
“A witch?” Was I right? Did all the trouble start with that potion?
“Yes.” She brushed my hair back. “You were bitten by multiple vampires. That’s not common. Vampires don’t generally share their human prey. I sense a witch’s influence on you that is probably the cause.”
“I saw a witch in New Orleans, but it wasn’t real. It was one of those tourist spots.”
“Now that you’ve been kidnapped by vampires and saved by a Pteron, do you really doubt a witch could be real?” The woman asked.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to believe. And what the heck was a Pteron?
“The only thing strong enough to cause this would be Seduction’s Kiss, and there’s only one witch in New Orleans crazy enough to make that anymore. Did you see Kalisa at the Midnight Cauldron?”
“Yes.”
“Darn that woman. She thinks she can play matchmaker, but she doesn’t realize the other forces at work.”
“Matchmaker?” Owen asked.
“Any witch could tell this human is something special. She sensed she was meant for a paranormal and gave it a push.”
“A push?” Owen absently ran a hand through my hair. “Is that why I couldn’t stop thinking about her?”
Couldn’t stop thinking about me? At a time like this I shouldn’t have cared that he liked me, but I did. Then I thought about Reyna. “Are my friends okay?”
“Yes. They are all back at home. Don’t worry about them.” He paused like he was debating whether to continue. “And I might as well just get this out of the way. They won’t remember a thing, and neither will you.”
“What?” Why wouldn’t I remember?
“I’m afraid she’ll have to remember, Owen. Letting a witch into her mind could do damage right now. She’s weak, and that potion Kalisa gave her is potent.” She put a damp washcloth on my forehead. “And to answer your previous question, no, your thoughts have nothing to do with witchcraft. You’re a Pteron after all.”
An unreadable expression crossed his face. “Oh.”
“So if you’ve been thinking about this human, it’s because you like her.” The woman laughed.
“A Pteron?” I decided to ask out loud this time.
“Did you notice his wings, sweetie? He’s a crow Pteron, aligned with royals.”
Owen balled his hand into a fist. “Stop. Don’t tell her anymore, Mayanne.”
“Don’t you plan to introduce her to Levi?”
“No. I don’t plan to see her again.”
She made a grunt. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“But she knows our secrets. What do we do?”
“You don’t need to kill me. I swear I won’t tell anyone.”
“After all the work I’ve done saving you, I wasn’t planning to hurt you.” He smiled for the first time. “But can you tell me something?”
“Yes. Anything.” I felt like I could tell him anything. There was just something about him that made me want to spill out my life story. I also owed him my life. From the bits and pieces of my memory coming back, I knew that the vampires were close to leaving me for dead.
The witch laughed as she banged around behind us.
“Why were you with that vampire?”
“Duncan? I was trying to stay away from a creep I was staying with. I’m only here because my friend’s visiting her boyfriend.”
“So you don’t live in New Orleans?” There was a note of disappointment in his voice that made my heart soar.
“I l
ive in Atlanta.”
“Ok, drink this.” Mayanne brought over a cup of something red.
“What is that?” I was skeptical of drinking anything after the night I’d had.
“It’s not going to taste good, but it will rid your body of the magic and anything those vampire teeth left behind.”
“Go on, drink it. I promise Mayanne wouldn’t hurt you.” Owen’s words were enough. I took a sip. I recoiled, but cleansing my body of those vampires was worth it. I drank the whole thing down.
She smiled. “I’m impressed. I’ve never seen a human drink that without being forced.”
“I’ve had a rough few days.”
“Hopefully some rest will help.”
“Rest? But I have to get home.” I glanced around at the room. It looked like a kitchen that hadn’t been updated in decades. I still had no idea where we were.
She shook her head. “Not yet. You need to stay and rest a few hours. I need to make sure this worked.”
“I’ll stay with her.” Owen started to stand up.
“I would have insisted.” She took the empty cup. “I’ll get you something else to wear as well.”
I looked down at the ripped lace dress, remembering I had nothing else on under it.
She seemed to sense the direction my thoughts were going in. “Do you feel strong enough to clean up?”
I nodded, but then turned to Owen. “Will you still be here when I get done?”
He smiled. “I am your ride home after all.”
“Those beautiful wings are real?” I knew they had to be. We’d flown, there was no other explanation.
“You think they’re beautiful?” he asked with genuine surprise.
“Absolutely. I’ve wanted to touch them since I first saw them.”
“She’s made for a paranormal, Owen. That includes Pterons.”
An unreadable expression crossed his face. “I’ll wait here.”
Mayanne took my arm to steady me as she led me down the hall. She opened the door to a small bathroom and helped me wash off and change into some fresh clothes. “You were very lucky tonight.”
“I know. I could be dead right now.” The reality of how close to death I’d been was hitting me full force. I’d been living a nightmare.
“And he’ll come around.” She helped me slip into a soft cotton dress. It felt strange to have someone I didn’t know dress me, but I was too weak to argue. Besides, anything was better than that old lace dress.
“Owen?”
“Yes. I can tell your feelings for him run deep.”
They did. That reality was an easier one to accept. “I already knew he was attractive, and now he saved my life.”
“You really think your interest lies in his appearance? He’s a handsome young man—but that’s not it.” She put some sort of first aid ointment on my shoulder and neck.
“I barely know him.”
“And you’re going to have to work hard to find out more.” She took the old ripped dress. “For right now you need to rest before he takes you home.”
I nodded. “Thank you for all the help.”
“Of course.” She led me down to a small bedroom with a double bed. “Rest here.”
“Is Owen still in the house?” I asked.
“I’m right here.”
I turned, and he was in the hallway. “I can sit with you if you want.”
I nodded. “Please, do.”
I lay down on the white and red quilt, and Owen sat down in the chair next to the bed.
“Don’t let me sleep too long.”
“I won’t.”
I tried to keep my eyes open so I could enjoy the time I could with him, but my eyes were too heavy. My lids closed.
“What’s your name?” He asked in half a whisper.
“Daisy.”
“That’s a beautiful name.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m glad you’re okay. You scared me. I thought I was too late when we first got there.”
“We? So there was someone else there?”
“Yes. A friend.” He didn’t elaborate, so I didn’t push for more. The other guy didn’t matter.
“And he’s a Pteron too?” Even though I didn’t care who the guy was, I did wonder what he was.
“Yes, but you need to stop talking about us. You need to forget we exist.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” I opened my eyes as best I could.
He was turned to look at me. “I don’t know, but talking about us will only put you in danger or get you committed.”
“Both wonderful possibilities.”
“Great sense of humor.”
“What did Mayanne mean by my being meant for a paranormal?”
“I don’t know, but you need sleep. Rest up.” He turned away.
“All right.” I closed my eyes.
“If you need anything let me know.”
Need anything? How about want? I decided to be bold, to take one more chance. “Could I get a kiss? Something good to turn this whole weekend around?”
“You want me to kiss you?”
I kept my eyes closed, unwilling to see him laugh.
“If I kiss you, will you promise not to talk about us? To forget about Pterons?”
“I can’t forget.”
“Will you try? At least promise not to tell anyone.”
“I can promise to try.”
I felt the bed shift, and I stayed as still as possible. Was he moving closer to me?
His lips brushed against mine lightly, but that small contact set me on fire. I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck. The action did something to him, because the feather light kiss grew more fevered. I soaked up the salty-sweetness of his mouth. My entire body hummed and responded to his lips. His hands pressed into the bed on either side of me as he hovered over me, and I buried my hands in hair. In those moments I knew one thing. I was forever ruined for other guys. Forget the witch’s concoction—this was seduction’s kiss.
Want to read more about the Pterons? Check out Flight (The Crescent Chronicles #1)!
About the Author
Alyssa Rose Ivy is a bestselling New Adult and Young Adult author who loves to weave stories with romance and humor. Although raised in the New York area, she fell in love with the South after moving to New Orleans for college. After surviving law school and earning her masters in library science, she turned back to her creative side and decided to write. She lives in North Carolina with her husband and two young children, and she can usually be found with a cup of coffee in her hand.
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Kiss of Awakening
By
Jennifer Snyder
PROLOGUE
“Choose your own adventure.”
When I was a kid, I assumed my father’s motto was nothing more than a pun on the type of books I enjoyed reading. You know the kind—the type where, if you decide to go through the secret passage, flip to page twenty-two, but if you decide to bypass it and continue down the hall, flip to page forty-nine. Now, looking back on this motto as an adult, I realize that my father was the wisest man alive.
He understood that with every choice we make our ending changes.
The moment I opened the black envelope and read the blood red words scratched across the thick, cream-colored paper, I knew my father’s words would have suited the scenario perfectly.
If I chose to do as the letter prompted, then I might as well flip to the farthest page in the book of my life, because an end—of sorts—was exactly what I would find in doing so.
CHAPTER ONE
A mountain of boxes sat before me, each of them filled with material things that wouldn’t mean shit to anyone else besides me. It wasn’t the objects that meant something, though, it was the
memories attached to them—the memories that involved my father.
His entire life—everything he’d ever worked for, everything about him—rested inside cardboard boxes printed with liquor brand names across the sides. Gazing at the boxes before me, it somehow seemed disrespectful to have placed his belongings in something used to ship alcohol.
My father didn’t even drink. Ever.
Unsure as to why this thought had situated itself front and center in my mind so suddenly, I chewed my bottom lip while thinking of a way to justify my box choice. “They have sturdy bottoms, Dad,” I said into the air, just in case my father’s spirit happened to be around.
While I wasn’t a religious person by any standard, that didn’t mean I couldn’t hope there was some sort of an afterlife. Brushing a few strands of my dark hair away from my face, I hoped that my father’s afterlife consisted of something far more enjoyable than watching me all sad-faced and teary-eyed as I packed up his belongings.
Afterlife, what the hell? How was it possible that my dad was gone?
Sinking down into the recliner, my eyes skimmed the living room. The walls were now naked, and the entire room seemed eerily empty. My vision blurred with impending tears as I continued to gaze around the vacant-looking space. Zeroing in on the prescription bottles sitting on the end table beside me, I finally lost it. The tears I had been holding back spilled from my eyes as I thought of how painful my father’s final moments most likely were.
Dead at forty-eight. Even in my twenty-one-year-old mind frame, forty-eight seemed so young.
William Blake’s health hadn’t been top notch for years, but it still wasn’t horrible enough for one to think he would pass away anytime soon. Then again, that all depended on who you asked. Dr. Brenner would mention his various health issues—including the stage his lung cancer was currently in—when asked. Most likely, he would talk about my father’s poor lifestyle choices, like smoking and his not-so-healthy diet. Then to lighten the mood, Dr. Brenner would state that my father should have kicked the bucket a few years ago, but he’d held on a little longer than expected just to piss off the man upstairs. But, if you asked a friend or a coworker about my father’s death, they would all tell you how unexpected it seemed. One of them would probably mention how they’d rarely ever seen him take time off, and how he always seemed so chipper and happy, never once leading them to believe he had stage three lung cancer.
