Isabella lifted her head and pounded her tail against the bed, waiting for her goodbye scratch between the ears.
Colt leaned over and obliged her—more than he’d ever oblige me. “Don’t forget—”
“I know,” I moaned. “I’m not planning to step foot out from under these covers. I’ll stay out of trouble and keep Isabella spoiled.”
“I never spoiled the dog.”
“Bullshit,” I grunted, flipping to the next page in my book.
“I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“I got it,” I said, annoyed that he kept interrupting my story for no good reason. This was my escape time.
When he stepped out, I buried my hand in Isabella’s thick white fur, scratching her neck. “Ready to party, girl?” I asked, loud enough for Colt to hear.
He slammed the door in response.
I sank back into my haven of fiction, finishing a few more pages before my phone buzzed.
Aid: Mini you.
The text was accompanied by a picture of Breanna curled up on the floor in a sea of pillows and stuffed animals, but wide awake.
Me: Shouldn’t you both be in bed?
Aid: I repeat, mini you. Always gets her second wind when I’m about to crash.
I snorted. I had kept him up all the time when we were kids. He was never exactly the early morning type, but he preferred mornings to come after a long night of sleep, not before a long day of sleep.
Me: Good luck with that.
Before I could hit send, I heard something creak. I would have ignored it—dismissed it as a common household noise if Isabella hadn’t perked up. Her ears twitched, then she jumped off the bed and ran into the living room. She growled and barked. I stared down at my phone, my heart pounding so fast it felt like time slowed down around me, but I couldn’t get my damn fingers to work right.
Then, Isabella yelped. The shrill sound of pain pierced my ears and ate at my heart.
I jumped out of bed, looking for anything I could use as a weapon, but Tank came through the door, gun pointed right at me.
I put my hands up, slowly backing away, but he grabbed me and pulled me against his chest. His arm wrapped around my neck and he pointed the gun to my temple, then turned me so I could see Devlin in the doorway.
“No,” I whispered. “Colt did everything you wanted.”
“Problem is I don’t really care about any of that,” Devlin said, the grin never leaving his face. He saw my phone on the table and picked it up, smirking when he saw it was unlocked. “Two Scotches, really?”
He put the phone to his ear, and all I could do was wait. Wait to see what he planned. If I’d live.
“Not Aubrey,” he said smoothly. “No, it was your deal. You forgot how to be an effective villain, brother. As always.”
He pressed the phone to my cheek.
“Colt?” My voice was shrill.
“Stay. Alive,” he said.
“Colt,” I screamed again wishing he could come through the phone and do something.
But Devlin took the phone back. “Hope you enjoyed her while you had her. I’m not sure you will when I’m done.”
He tossed the phone on the bed.
“You had a deal,” I pleaded again, knowing he didn’t care. “You agreed. You got what you wanted.”
He cocked his head. “Wrong. Granted”—he pressed his index finger to his lips—“I got some of what I wanted, but Colt still seems amazingly sober. I think we need to push him a little harder.”
My stomach flipped in a move that would make professional acrobats jealous. “Fine, I’ll get him to—”
“You’re right,” Devlin said. “But we can’t have you spoiling the ride.”
He pulled out a rag and bottle from his coat pocket.
I squirmed, but the gun pressed harder against my temple until I stilled. Devlin wet the rag, then pressed it over my face. It’s not like the movies. I screamed. Gasped for air and struggled. Tank loosened the gun and his grip allowing me my final fight.
Seconds passed.
I thought about my family.
Whether Colt could or would save me.
What Devlin might do to me in the meantime.
And then, the world went black.
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First off, I’d like to thank you, the reader, because without you I could sit and write all day long, but I would have no one to share my dreams with!
I couldn’t make it through everything without the support of my husband, Sir Callahan. He has never questioned my love of writing and even when I drive him to the brink of insanity, he does everything he can to keep me motivated and working.
I have been fortunate to have no shortage of friends and family who have encouraged me to become a writer. Many thanks to…
My family: Mamaw, Papaw, Mom, Dad, Amanda, all of my sisters, brother, nieces and nephew for encouraging my insanity and giving me wonderful inspiration to work with.
My neighbors and their cats: Murray, Cat Cow, and Baby Cat for understanding why I’m always sitting in my backyard and staring off into space with what I sometimes expect appears to be murderous looks on my face (and for sometimes leaving me half-eaten birds that I suspect are intended as between scene snacks).
Pepper Winters, my late night writing partner and best friend. She keeps me working at a pace I never thought was possible, but even more than that I’m honored to call her my friend. Our sticker wars and chats prove every day that I always have someone who understands me like no one else—even if she does live on the opposite side of the world.
Krissy V was one of the first people I spoke to after setting up my author page. She was one of my first betas, and I’m so proud that she has also followed her passion for writing. She’s a wonderful person, and another of my international friends that I’m looking forward to meeting one day.
Diane knew me long before my debut novel and was also one of the first to help me improve my writing and storytelling before pressing publish that first time. She’s a supportive blogger, friend, and fellow writer and I hope that she continues to follow her dreams as well.
Sheila, another fantastic person, beta reader, and author who I would never have met if I hadn’t followed my dreams. Her words of encouragement from the very beginning have meant the world to me.
Sasha has been a wonderful friend and huge help to me as I’ve continued to grow. She always has words of encouragement and is willing to lend a hand when I get buried under my never-ending to do list. I’m also thrilled to add her to my list of trusted betas, and she provided some amazing suggestions to improve the story.
Vicki is also always around with her trained eye to help make sure that I’m not writing myself around in circles, and I really appreciate all of her help and feedback.
Lyra Parish, Rachel Brooks, Chelle Bliss, and Gemma James, my fellow authors and good friends who are always around if I need my ass kicked or a word of advice. As well as Silla Webb, and all of the authors in Authors Having Each Other’s Backs. It’s an honor to be a part of such a supportive and wonderful community.
Verna, Becky, Cassia, Drue, Summer, Philomena, Michelle, Allison, Shayna, Alissa, Tiffany, Shanean, Di—I’m sure I’m forgetting names, and I feel horrible because I could go on and on. But I want to thank every single book blogger who puts so much time into reading, reviewing, and promoting our hard work. These ladies deserve their own holiday! An extra thanks to the ladies—Becky and Amber who have helped me with my reading group, now known as Skye’s Darklings. And to Nicole who I recently met, but she has already been a huge help in getting folks motivated, events scheduled, and keeping me in tune with the promo that needs to be done to help these books sell.
Amber Vaughn deserves a book to herself. She’s an amazing blogger, pimper, and all around beautiful person. She saves my ass with every release an
d corrects my hillbilly grammar when necessary.
Every one of my fans, readers, and Darklings. You make this job incredible.
I wish I could include the names of all the people who have helped me along the way, but that would be an entire book in itself, and then all of you would get bored and annoyed that my acknowledgements are longer than the story.
That doesn’t mean I love any of you any less! Thank you for your support!
Skye Callahan is the bestselling author of Irrevocable a dark romance that ran away with her emotions and led her on a whole new writing journey. She enjoys exploring the darker sides of life through her fiction, whether through paranormal creatures or the depraved underbelly of human nature. Her other works include the follow up to Irrevocable, Bend Don’t Break, The Redline Series, The Fractured Legacy Series, and Bound and Unbroken.
Her love of reading and writing started at a young age and she has been blessed with a family that continues to support her dreams to be a full-time writer. She has lived in Ohio all of her life, where she enjoys taking long walks through cemeteries with her husband (when the insane Ohio weather permits), studying local history, and trying to make peace with the neighbor’s cats.
I’d love to hear from you!
http://skyecallahan.com
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Continue reading for information on some of Skye’s other books, including brief sneak peeks!
Dark Romantic Suspense
Irrevocable, Book 1
Release date: May 4, 2015
Goodreads
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.
“You HAVE to read this book…. I just cannot emphasis just how much I love this book!”★★★★★ Alicia, Mean Girls Luv Books
“Not only did Irrevocable gut me, it took me on a roller coaster ride full of emotions that I usually don’t experience while reading romances….”★★★★★ Shayna Renee’s Spicy Reads TOP PICK of 2014!
“Finally a goodDARK read, that has it ALL!!”★★★★★ Shelby, Wicked Reads
“A must read for all who dare to step out of the light and into the darkness!”★★★★★ Summer’s Book Blog
Chapter 1: Stolen
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.
“Did you make a decision?” Kyle asked.
I rolled over and pulled the comforter up to my neck. I had decided that I didn’t want to make a decision—mostly that I didn’t appreciate him trying to force me into a decision when I had told him time after time that I didn’t want him moving into my apartment even after six months together.
“You can barely afford the place anyway since your sister moved out. I don’t get why it’s such a big deal unless you don’t want to be together.”
I did, and yet, the threat of him leaving seemed like a relief….
Hands groped and pulled—rough against my skin and digging into muscle and bone. Too many hands. The bits of memory faded as I tried to retreat from the onslaught. 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. It shimmered in the distance, 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 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, 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 if 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 did 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.
This couldn’t be happening. All I wanted to do was curl into a ball and protect my body, but their hands kept me splayed. Helpless. I jerked, pulled, and squirmed with every bit of strength I had, but a five and a half foot girl against a circle of rabid men was a hopeless battle.
And, with my defense, I had broken the dam on their violence. Seven pairs of hands turned on me, spreading me across the table. Bony hands squeezed my arms and legs, and adrenaline took over my judgment.
I screamed and a hand clamped down over my mouth, half-covering my nose as well. Every time someone moved the wrong way, his hand slid up, cutting off my air completely. I clamped my mouth closed, not letting another sound escape in hopes that he’d get bored of holding my mouth closed.
Where ever I had ended up, all I knew was that I didn’t want to die in some dank concrete room at the hand of a group of ruffians. I’d just started living my life. I made it out of the small town to find a place where I wasn’t constantly answering to someone about every decision I made. At sixteen, I had dyed my hair blue and our minister told me I was going to hell.
Well, I had found it, but I doubted this is what he’d had in mind.
Threats, insults, and random profanity echoed against the cinder block walls of the room and roared in my head propelling my struggle.
One of my shoes slipped off, giving me an opening. As that attacker attempted to readjust his grip, I straightened my leg quickly, hitting him square in the chest. He grunted and took a step back, then slammed my flailing leg against the table. The impact sent a bolt of pain up my body and for a brief moment I stilled, letting the pain radiate through me and then pushing it to the back of my awareness.
I sunk back into my mind, trying to distance myself from the pain. I couldn’t believe it was real. How quickly I had gone from planning to have
dinner with my friends to being groped in some dank basement by a group of disgusting bastards.
They must have thought that my pause meant I was giving up, because the one holding my arm loosened his grip and I slipped free again, this time, planting a punch to the nose of another attacker. It took him a second to shake it off, but I was instantly restrained again by yet another. The man I’d punch snarled and ripped open my shirt, then pulled a knife from his pocket and flipped it open.
The room went quiet, and I froze, watching the silver tip of the blade move closer to my sternum.
Then, a single voice rose from the back of the room. “What the hell breed of trouble are you lot causing?”
Continue reading: Amazon US, CA, UK, AU
Dark Romantic Suspense
Irrevocable, Book 2
Release date: November 17, 2014
Goodreads
I thought I was done.
my End
I couldn’t take my eyes off her as the bullet tore through me, leaving me with nothing but the hope that I had done enough to save her. The darkness tried to engulf me—to brand me as its own and drag me to my fate.
my Darkness
Waking to see her tear-stained face above me was enough to make my heart stutter. I was alive and free from that place—but not from the toll it had taken on my mind and body.
my Strength
My story should have ended, but one woman kept standing in the way of that. The only way I could have her was to find a way to put the darkness to rest.
“BEND, DON’T BREAK was a dark, sensual, and at times, twisted and chaotic read that messed with my mind so good.”★★★★★ Shayna Renee’s Spicy Reads
Torque Page 9
