by Anya Nowlan
When Time Stops
Anya Nowlan
Contents
A Little Taste…
Copyright
Prologue
1. Isobel
2. Aeon
3. Isobel
4. Aeon
5. Isobel
6. Aeon
7. Isobel
8. Aeon
9. Isobel
10. Isobel
11. Aeon
12. Isobel
13. Isobel
14. Aeon
15. Isobel
16. Aeon
17. Isobel
18. Aeon
19. Isobel
20. Isobel
21. Aeon
22. Isobel
23. Aeon
24. Isobel
25. Aeon
26. Isobel
27. Isobel
Epilogue
Lessons in Purrsuasion Excerpt
Also by Anya Nowlan
About the Author
A Little Taste…
“I said, I’m not interested.”
Aeon’s head whipped to the side, his gaze flicking golden for the briefest moment, before those intense grey eyes of his returned in full force.
Her.
He wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he did. It was her, the woman he had seen before. And by the sound of her voice, she was not having fun anymore.
Striding through the crowd, Aeon chose to push a couple of people out of his way this time instead of going for the easier, smoother option of following the flow. This time, he was in a hurry.
“Hey, watch it,” someone yelped, but when he glared at them, the guy quieted immediately.
Aeon wondered if his dragon had made an appearance again or if his own barely contained irritation was enough to incite the silence. Either case, he didn’t really care.
“Oh come on, we’re going to have a little fun,” a masculine voice said and Aeon didn’t know why, but he was absolutely certain that its owner was the cause of her distress.
When he caught sight of her again, she was pinned against the rock wall of the room, a big, beefy guy leaning over her, grinning a lecherous smile. Aeon’s eyes narrowed. She was obviously uncomfortable and when she made to make an escape, ducking under the guy’s arm, he grabbed her and shoved her back against the wall.
That was enough. That was all Aeon could take.
He rushed to the guy and his dragon practically roared within him, bringing a growl to Aeon’s lips. With one smooth, effortless jerk, he’d grabbed the man by the collar, turned him around and grabbed him by the neck. Aeon took one step and walked the man against the wall and with his clothes getting stuck on the stone and mortar slightly, Aeon lifted him up by the neck.
She watched with an equal mix of horror and awe in her eyes. Unfortunately Aeon couldn’t dedicate all of his attention on her yet.
“I think you owe the lady an apology,” Aeon pressed out between gritted teeth, his fingers coiling against the man’s flesh, crushing his windpipe slowly.
Copyright © 2016 Anya Nowlan
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
When Time Stops
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be used, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use. This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Anya Nowlan. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
Cover © Jack of Covers
You can find all of my books here:
Amazon Author Page
www.anyanowlan.com
Created with Vellum
Prologue
Aeon
The ground shook far below him as Aeon’s massive wings spread, creating a torrent of air below him that lifted him higher and higher. Fire swirled in the back of his throat, promising in its warmth and presence, licking at his massive tongue and the top of his mouth.
His golden eyes, slitted and shining with something obsidian in the flecks, searched for his opponents, the stormy skies doing well to mask their large, black and faded blue bodies. That’s why they had chosen this evening, after all. The sun would mark each of the three dragons far too easily, glinting off the wide, flat scales with the pointed edges and making them easy targets for their brothers.
He felt power swirling within him, the ancient magic that he carried within him the same as his brothers, though stronger as he was the Alpha to the family. The heir. The one that was to lead them into a new era.
A new era darker than the previous one, he caught himself musing darkly, whipping through the tendrils of clouds as he sped across the sky in search of his targets.
Thunder rattled close by after a lightning bolt flitted past him only a few feet to the right of one of his large, leathery wings. Aeon paid it no heed. As with all things, he could sense the subtle undercurrent of the event long before it happened. He simply ignored the ones that would not cause him harm, or were in his favor to be ignored.
Suddenly, he felt the world growing slow and sluggish around him. The wisps of grey and white that made up the rumbling clouds seemed to shift and mix slower, and the note of thunder in the air seemed to reverb too slowly in his ears.
The grin he felt forming on his jagged maw was an expectant one. As expected, the very next second, when his body was being thrown sideways by a blow to his side, the world sped up once more, now going three times as fast.
Fights between time dragons were never fair, in that sense.
Aeon struggled against it, letting his mind fall into the back and his instincts take over. The magic that crackled in the air was so sweet that he could almost taste it, but the tang of blood hit his tongue first. Hex was caught in his jaws, teeth chomping down on his younger brother’s left wing as they tumbled through the skies.
The ground could not be too far when Hex howled with pain and Aeon felt the hot surge of dragonfire snaking along his scales. Almost in unison, they broke apart, both allowing time to return into its natural cradle for a moment, to flow as it should. Hex glared at him, the large, stocky body of the dragon flying slightly lopsided as it circled around Aeon.
Inspecting himself quickly, Aeon noted a few scarred bruises on his chest from the burst of flame Hex had blown in his face when he tried to rip his wing off.
All in good fun.
Aeon’s eyes returned to search for his brother, now lost in the clouds, when the world warped around him once more.
Speed, he thought, sensing the change.
He pointed his own magic to work against it, trying to slow down the assault before it could take hold fully, but he was too late. Hex and Phase came flying at him from either side in unison, targeting him instead of one another. It had happened before that Aeon’s younger brothers tried to band against him to win their yearly match and each year, they would fail and lose.
There was something to be admired in the fact that they tried, though, Aeon figured.
He concentrated the flow of his magic with the beat of his wings, carrying himself upward as the universe moved faster than it should. He almost got away in time, breaking up high before his brothers could figure out what he was doing, but Phase’s mouth locked around his long tail and yanked him down at the very last second.
Snarling wit
h pain, Aeon whipped around, the wave of dragonfire hitting Phase in the top of his head and across his back as he hung on, tearing Aeon down. Hex used the opening to circle up above Aeon and then plummeted down, catching onto the base of Aeon’s wings and dragging him down towards the ground with dizzying speed.
Whereas Phase and Hex were trying to speed the descent down, Aeon used everything he had to slow it down. Between the three of them, they almost managed to return speed to what it should have been, stuttering and fraying at the edges.
Aeon could see the ground coming at him, both his brothers doing their best to plow him into the rocky mountains below. He gritted his teeth, Phase having practically balled up now to protect himself from the flames and Hex using his strong wings to give them more momentum as they tumbled uncontrollably towards the rocks.
Aeon took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing through the pain of Phase gnawing on his tail and Hex trying to rip his wings from his back. When it was too late for either of his brothers to do anything about it, Aeon suddenly moved his wings, almost in tune with the thunder, and flipped himself over so Hex was the one on the bottom.
With a deafening roar, the three of them collided with the side of the mountain, making the world shake and shudder around them. Snow broke loose from the tops of nearby peaks, creating massive avalanches, one of which threatened to bury the three dragons beneath it.
Aeon was the first to raise his head, feeling the telltale signs of the snow heading towards them in both the vibration of the earth as well as the subtle nervousness in the flow of time, the magic he possessed warning him of what was to come. Gingerly, he scooped himself up from underneath Phase, stepping forward to see an endless wave of white heading right for them.
He snarled, spreading his wings over Hex and Phase, lowering his head as he braced himself against the impact. The first moment the snow touched his tattered and scorched scales, it felt good. Cool, relaxing, easing and soothing the cuts and wounds he had received during the fall. But then the snow just kept coming and coming, loading on his back and wings, weighing him down.
It seemed to last a lifetime, but that was partially because Aeon needed to slow down the flow of time to be better able to brace against the pain and weight. It might have seemed counterintuitive, but had he gone the opposite route and allowed time to skip ahead, his bones may have simply crumpled from the impact.
Finally, the snow slowed and when Aeon opened his eyes, time returning to normal despite his attempts to control it, he found himself and his unconscious brothers in a cave of snow and ice. It was created by the protection of his wings and the fire he had breathed from his nostrils and maw to melt as much of it as he could, some of the snow evaporating on mere contact with his superheated scales.
Looking down at his brothers, their massive bodies covered partially by the snow, ragged and spent, he couldn’t help but beam with pride.
Another victory won. As crazy as it may have been.
The time dragons never played nice.
Isobel
“I can’t believe this,” Isobel’s mother was saying, holding her head with both hands. “I just can’t believe this. What do you mean he’s not here!? How can this be! He’s such a good boy!”
But he wasn’t.
He’s a fucking jerk, is what he is, Isobel thought, fighting the tears that threatened to well up and then splatter all over her cheeks and ruin her three-hundred dollar wedding make-up.
She was standing in front of the full-size mirror in her dressing room and it felt like the world was going to hell in a handbasket around her. Staring at her reflection, she almost felt like time was slowing down around her as she stared dully at the fluffy white folds of her expensive couture wedding gown, made up with endless pearls and little patches of lace she hadn’t even liked, but her mother and fiancé had absolutely adored.
Her bridesmaids, of whom there were too many, were flitting around Isobel like headless chickens, half of them already crying, and Joshua’s sister looking like she’d just stepped in a pile of dog shit. It was evident that she would have rather heard from Joshua that they were ditching this wedding, instead of having to be in the henhouse of drama when the news hit.
You and me both, Katie, Isobel mused, feeling a strained smirk spread over her lips.
Looking at her reflection again, focusing on that instead of the mayhem that was engulfing the dressing room, silk and satin and makeup everywhere, Isobel tilted her head. She was on the taller side at 5’8’’, long auburn hair made up in an intricate, pearl-encrusted bun, and her already too full lips made up in a shade of magenta that looked like something Lady Gaga would wear, but her stylist had insisted was totally in this season.
Isobel’s mother had agreed vehemently and so here she was, looking like some odd prop in a movie that never got the right kind of funding.
She ran her hands down the bodice of her dress, fanning out at the hips. Her figure was curvy and despite Joshua’s gentle nudging for her to lose weight for the ceremony, she really hadn’t. In her opinion, she didn’t need to and as much as she loved the man, she couldn’t agree with him all the time, right?
What had started as her wedding had turned into a clusterfuck that had little to nothing to do with her, and seemed to cater to the whims and desires of everyone around her instead. And now, she wasn’t even going to get to have her damn first dance and a sip of the champagne that she had been allowed to choose – one of the few concessions her rabid wedding planning committee had allowed.
She rolled her eyes wordlessly. How thankful she should have been to be allowed to make a decision for her own damn wedding.
“Oh, honey, maybe he is just late? Maybe that’s what it is,” her mother blabbered on, dabbing at the corners of her eyes before fussing with Isobel’s overly long veil. “That’s it! He’ll be here in a few minutes and everything will be fine and we’ll get to have the day you always dreamed of! Oh, honey, don’t look so pale, smile a little. It’ll be alright!”
Isobel caught herself frowning, her blue eyes stormy and unamused. That was the last straw.
With one flick of her wrist, she’d pulled the veil from her hair and tossed it at a nearby bridesmaid. The girl wasn’t even her friend, she was one of Joshua’s old classmates.
He probably fucked her too, Isobel thought, feeling as if a box had been opened up inside of her and suddenly the rage that she hadn’t known she possessed came pouring out of her.
“Mother, stop it,” she snarled as the veil somehow found its way back on her head through the stylings of the annoyed-looking bridesmaid and Isobel’s mother. “He’s not coming back. You saw the damn text. He’s gone. He left. He doesn’t want me.”
There it was, the hurt and the pain.
She twirled around, practically growling at her dress as it kept getting in the way, to face her mother. Alicia Evans was an enthusiastic, if difficult woman – ask anyone, that would be the kindest version you’d hear - but she’d turned into a bit of a momzilla during the wedding preparations.
Suddenly having millions of dollars at your disposal and your daughter slated to wed one of the wealthiest bachelors in the Tri-State area apparently did that to a woman.
The Evans’ weren’t from a difficult background. With Alicia working as a successful realtor – a job she was more than glad to give up once Isobel was happily married – and Isobel working as a lawyer, the family was doing well enough. Add in Isobel’s father’s role as a consultant for military branches and everything was looking pretty peachy.
Yet to Isobel, it seemed that in her mother’s mind, nothing had ever been quite as important as marrying her off ‘right’. Whatever that was supposed to mean. The sudden realization that this wasn’t going to happen, at least now, made Isobel envision ticking time bombs and an explosion of white wedding-themed chaos.
“Isobel, don’t say that,” Alicia started.
“No,” she said, wrestling with the endless folds and skirts and slips of her dre
ss, gathering them in her lap so she could take a proper step.
She kicked off her shoes for good measure.
“This is over. Done. Finito. He’s gone and good riddance for it. You and I both know he’s been sleeping through half the goddamn wedding party and I don’t even know why I let this go on for as long as it has. I can do better than this. Allie!”
“Yeah?” Allison Brightley asked, hopping up from her seat in the corner of her room and rushing over, a relieved look on her face.
I should have listened to her sooner, Isobel thought with more than a little bit of guilt.
“We’re blowing this popsicle stand. Come on, please help me with this ridiculous thing,” she said, motioning at her veil and the rest of her humongous dress with one hand while still trying to hold onto the endless fabric.
“You don’t need to tell me twice,” Allie replied with a wide grin, tossing the little bridesmaid’s bouquet that she’d still been clutching at Alicia.
If things had been crazy before in the dressing room, it turned into real bedlam now. Laughing, Isobel and Allie scooped up her dress and made a run for it, heading out the door and sprinting through the lavish church with the sound of their laughter echoing in the high halls.
There were five-hundred people gathered in the church, all there to celebrate the happy union of Joshua Cleaver and Isobel Marie Evans. They were going to be sorely disappointed.
There was no way to bypass the church hall and the first flash of a white dress had the organist starting to play and everyone jumping up on their feet, ready to welcome the bride and the groom. But there was no groom and there wasn’t going to be one.
Isobel stopped mid-step right where she would have otherwise stood before starting the slow walk down to the altar. The carpet they had laid down was pearly white and the flower arrangements at the ends of the pews were pink, violet and ivory. She was beginning to hate everything white with a passion.
