Daring Hearts: Fearless Fourteen Boxed Set

by Box Set

  While Travis looked more like a dream in this strange place, Abran was crystal clear. In fact, seeing him here made me think that how I saw him in the dark world was like seeing Travis here. I always thought him handsome, dapper, refined, but the man who stood before me was a perfect painting of some Greek god—ethereal, divine.

  His scowl was crisper, more chilling, his eyes cutting. His body was lean and elongated in a perfection I hadn’t understood before, his facial features sharp and chiseled.

  I couldn’t put my finger on what was so different, what made him so perfect, but I also couldn’t look away, either. He was a normal man—I knew that—and yet, what stood before me was … more.

  His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I could see the man from the dark world, and then everything shifted. His facial features changed, darkened, his eyes going dark as the light that came from inside of him began to dim.

  “You can see me, can’t you?” I heard his voice. I heard the rich, accented tones that I knew all too well, but it didn’t come from him. His lips didn’t so much as move. His eyes didn’t leave mine. Still, I heard him. I had heard the sound whisper from inside of me rather than out. It filled me with a fear, with power, with a lust I couldn’t even begin to grasp, the feeling almost a feral scream inside of me.

  “Can’t you!” he screamed, his lips moving this time as I noticed the waving colors of Travis flinch beside me, the shimmering shape shifting as, I was sure, he looked between us, but I didn’t dare check. I only sat on the ground, staring at him, the heat in me growing as my defiance did.

  In the dark world, the heat felt like it controlled me, but here it was opposite—the heat made me feel powerful.

  I slowly uncurled myself from the ground, narrowing my eyes at him as I took a step in front of my brother.

  “I’ve always seen you, Abran.” The words were more taunt than confidence, but I let them flow. I let the heat guide me as I moved toward him again, only stopping when the smeared colors of Travis’s hand wrapped around my arm, keeping me in place.

  I turned back to him quickly, facing my brother who was little more than color to me, everything about him shifting like oil in water. I stared at him, wanting to see him, expecting to understand, but nothing solidified.

  “It’s not Bridget,” I whispered, hoping he could hear me. However, his grip on my arm only tightened, the hold almost panicked.

  I guessed he couldn’t hear me. I wondered what he could hear. What could he see?

  “She has ascended,” Abran’s voice came from behind me, and I flipped around to face him, the anger that had been so prevalent replaced by fear. The fear in his expression was so strong that, for the first time, defeating him seemed like a real possibility.

  I didn’t know what I had done or how I could control whatever had scared him so badly, but I wasn’t going to lose it, not if I could use it against him.

  “Kill her!” he suddenly screamed, his voice rippling like it was on a delay as it moved through both worlds. “Kill her before she completes it!”

  Well, unless he did that, of course.

  I didn’t know what he was talking about, what could be completed, but it didn’t matter, not right then, not ever if I didn’t find a weapon … and fast.

  Before Abran had even finished speaking, all of the bone white creatures we were surrounded by began to move forward, blood dripping from their faces as they advanced, the same cruel smile replacing the horrified scream on each and every one.

  They moved closer as Abran stepped behind them, his smile the last thing I saw before he disappeared, running away to let his minions do the job.

  I didn’t blame him. This was going to be a massacre.

  And we were stuck right in the middle of it.

  July 29th 2021

  * * *

  Here she came again with that steady tap of those damn high heels.

  It was like she wore them specifically so we could prepare for her arrival, so the fear of what she would do would begin to pump through us, her sugar sweet voice echoing in our ears and increasing our heart rates just enough that the blood pulsed faster.

  The machine ran quicker.

  The change came steadily.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  I never knew anyone to walk in such a perfect rhythm before.

  That alone was probably more frightening for me.

  The taps grew louder as she walked right up to me, the sound echoing in my ears the closer she came, the more she bared down, and then they stopped.

  They stopped right beside me, the echo ricocheting through me in a resounding memory that only frightened me more, the silence behind it terrifying.

  I watched the tubes above my head, waiting for the taps, waiting for her to say something.

  But there was only silence.

  Somehow, silence was more terrifying.

  My heart rate sped up further, the machine following suit. I could have sworn I heard her smile from where she stood somewhere beside me.

  I wished I could punch the look right off her face.

  The machine sped up again.

  “Hello, Bridget.” If I could have jumped, I would have. The voice came out of nowhere, sugary sweet and toxic.

  I tried to turn to look at her, desperate to see the enemy that was stalking me, my eyes straining in a desperate attempt. However, I saw nothing except the curtain of wires that surrounded me, part of me wondering for a moment if she was even there. That was, until I felt her hand against my forehead, the appendage in my vision for only a moment before she moved to comfort me like a friend.

  Her touch soft.

  Her voice sweet.

  If only I didn’t know what she was up to, it might have worked.

  “Hello.” I barely got the word out, but it didn’t matter. Though it was one drowned word, I was still going to say it, still stand up to the demon.

  That’s a good word, too. I would have to work on it, as well.

  Demon.

  “Good. I see you have been working on your talking.” She tried to cover her mockery with that same baby voice she used on Cohen. It didn’t work. “I would tell you it’s no use, but knowing you …” She trailed off like she was alluding to something. In fact, I knew she was. Her voice was just prodding enough that I knew there was something else she wanted to say, something she wanted to tell me.

  And worse, she wanted me to beg for her to say it.

  Beg the bully for my punishment.

  Why did girls always have to be so catty?

  “What?” I knew I was giving into her little game, but I simply didn’t care. It was the same as before. I would take her taunting if it meant information, especially now that there was the tiniest glimmer of being able to use that information against them, to get us out of here, to share with Travis later. To share with Owen and Blood Rose and somehow bring Azul down.

  Bring it on, Erica. Lay it all on me.

  “ ‘Knowing me’ what…?” I prompted her, the words drowning in the blood a bit.

  “You just always want the last word is all.”

  Well, she nailed it perfectly on the head that time, and I was going to get it this time, too. She just didn’t know it yet.

  “Too bad it’s pointless.” This game was already becoming irritating and clichéd. “We changed our minds, Abran and I.”

  I tensed even further. There was only one thing her and Abran had told me, and that was their plan to change me and what to do with me after that was complete. All I could hear was my heart beat as she paused, the matching rhythm of the machine making it all the more grating to my ears.

  “What did you change?” The words barely made it past the fluid that had filled my mouth.

  “To change you, what to do with you once we have them ... What to do with Travis and that creature he is traveling with.”

  Everything was lead inside of me. I would have been sure my heart had stopped beating if it not for the machines.

  “You see, we thought it
would be nice and ironic for you to do away with your husband, but where’s the fun in that if he doesn’t know it’s you and the Criart? It only hurts if he knows, you see.” She was talking so low that, if I hadn’t been completely focused on her, I would have missed it. As it was, I lay still, each word seeping into me like the poison it was.

  “What…?” I began, the word fading to nothing as her hand pressed against my forehead, her icy fingers trailing over the skin as they moved hair and sweat and who knew what else around.

  “We want him to see you, Bridget. Isn’t that great? We want him to see you in your big moment, when we cut your skin, when you bleed out, when you become something more and forget everything. We want him to watch it. We want him to be your first kill. We want him to know it’s you since you won’t be able to stop yourself, anyway.”

  I tensed, her low whisper hissing only inches from my ear, her stagnant breath moving over me as the words seeped into me. I could feel them, feel the dread as words that were meant only for me infiltrated my heart, crushing it to pieces.

  “No.”

  “Your brand new, shiny claw slicing through his skin, turning him into nothing but ash. It’s wonderful, isn’t it? I know you are excited. I can tell … because the machine is speeding up … because you are trying to change yourself faster …”

  It was a taunt, and I knew it, but I didn’t care. It still hurt, still dug into me exactly as she had hoped. They were painful, little words that sliced me apart. It still alerted me to the reality I was caught in, epic escape plans or no. I was still paralyzed, strapped to a machine that was turning me into a monster with no way to slow my heart rate down enough to make a difference.

  I was under their control.

  I wanted to fight them. I wanted to fight her—that much was clear in the pace of my heart, in the movement of the blood and poison that ran through the tubing above me. I knew I couldn’t, however. I knew there was nothing I could do.

  Unless my impossible plan worked, this would happen. They had all the cards, and they knew it. I was aware they knew it from the smile I could hear in her voice, from the way her fingers dug painfully into my leg as I jerked.

  I jerked.

  I tried to move away from her, my muscles flexing, my toes curled.

  I moved.

  They had both told me I was paralyzed, that the bullet had sped through my spine. I had felt the bullet. I could feel the pain. I could barely talk. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even feel anything.

  Until now.

  Until my toes curled, unseen to her, my big toe moving in time to the beating of my heart.

  I was sure Erica was still speaking. I could still feel her ridiculously hot breath move over me. I could still hear the shadows of words echo in my mind. I simply wasn’t focused on that.

  I was focused on the life that was moving back into my toes. I was focused on the fact that I could move them.

  The plan changed in my mind with that realization, the ridiculous hope of escape seeming much more real.

  I was going to get us out of here, and I was going to do it on my own two feet, looking Abran right in the eyes as I ended him.

  Author’s Note

  This novella is part of an ongoing novella publication.

  A new episode of the Through Glass Series is released in timed intervals throughout the year.

  You can discuss the stories, cast your vote for what happens next and stay up to date on release schedules by joining our Through Glass Based Discussion group: http://on.fb.me/1krnvM1

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  About Rebecca Ethington

  Rebecca Ethington is an internationally bestselling author with almost 700,000 books sold. Her breakout debut, The Imdalind Series, has been featured on bestseller lists since its debut in 2012, reaching thousands of adoring fans worldwide and cited as “Interesting and Intense” by USA Today’s Happily Ever After Blog.

  From writing horror to romance and creating every sort of magical creature in between, Rebecca’s imagination weaves vibrant worlds that transport readers into the pages of her books. Her writing has been described as fresh, original, and groundbreaking, with stories that bend genres and create fantastical worlds.

  Born and raised under the lights of a stage, Rebecca has written stories by the ghost light, told them in whispers in dark corridors, and never stopped creating within the pages of a notebook.

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  Sketchy Love

  by Lila Felix

  Copyright

  Copyright@ May 2015 Lila Felix / Rebel Writer Productions, LLC

  P.O. Box 1711

  Denham Springs, Louisiana 70726

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  Sketchy Love, the novel, the characters, names, and related indicia are trademarks and © of Lila Felix

  All Rights Reserved

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  Published by Rebel Writer Productions, LLC / Lila Felix

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of the book. For more information or permission please contact the author/publisher: authorlilafelix@gmail.com

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  Publisher’s Note:

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  1. Young Adult Romance 2. Paranormal 3. Teen Romance 4. Soul-Mate

  Fasta

  “How long,” my dastardly guidance counselor demanded in a tone befitting her station in life. It was rumored she teetered on the cusp of becoming the next Assistant Principal, but had been thwarted by her own sister, the Director of the Magnet Program.

  Bugging her coal eyes out, she made a motion with her hands that read,
‘Spit it out.’

  “Three weeks—maybe four.”

  At my admission, she threw both arms into the air in a dramatic fashion. Her too tight wrap around white blouse rebelled against the action, loosing itself from the right side of her perfectly pressed pencil skirt. She then crossed her lithe arms and turned around in her chair. I assumed the gesture was to show me her back in disgust at my refusal to answer the college acceptances. Instead, her chair kept turning around on its axis until she faced me again.

  I couldn’t help myself. A savage laugh broke free from my chapped lips. It was the biggest fail of a power play I’d ever seen.

  She cleared her throat and tried unsuccessfully to tuck her blouse back into her skirt in a discreet manner. Glancing at the clock, I saw there was still ten more minutes in the student planning period. Ignoring the aggravated paper stacking of the small woman in front of me, I pulled a worn paperback from my messenger bag and picked up where I’d left off. Nothing she said to me would make any difference anyway. I’d been told all my life that my talent was brilliant, but that my laziness would be my demise.