Hi everyone. Today I am featuring "The Cities Below Series," by: Jen Colly. You can find her guest post, book details, sneak peeks, and a giveaway throughout this post. Hope you enjoy and purchase your copies today. Happy reading :).
Pen or type writer or computer?
Definitely computer. My handwriting is trash, and I can't get the thoughts out fast enough when in control of a pen. Fast and legible is a necessity.
Tell us about a favorite character from a book.
Dev. Devlin Savard. Captain Savard. I love him. I am so biased. Initially, I didn't understand him. I knew I needed him, as captain, to clean up the broken pieces of the city after the attack. I never expected him to rise to the occasion while carrying the massive burden of a dark secret on his shoulders. He has saved so many lives, guarded his city tenaciously, pulled the strings of fate for so many people. When it was his turn in The Guardian, I had no idea what was in store for him. He was dying, tired of fighting, and he'd given up. He needed light. Joy. A shining beacon of hope in his life. I gave him Sera.
A day in the life of the author?
I'm so sorry, but it's pretty normal. I get up, take care of the inside and outside critters, make sure the youngest kid is where he's supposed to be, then go to work. I work an 8-5 job an average of 40 hours a week. When I get home, and if the kiddo doesn't have a piano lesson or quiz team match, regular daily household stuff needs done. Laundry, dishes, etc. I'm just like any other working mom. Now, I do commit to writing on my lunch hour every day, and I certainly try to make an hour happen every night at home. When I do get a day off, I will pack up my stuff and head to our local coffee shop and park it in a booth. All day. Writing is always my 8-5 love affair on my days off. Hubby recently finished my writing attic, and it's lovely. I now have a secluded place to tuck in at home, and I make it a point to plug in and write any chance I get, especially on the weekend. I've found that if I make writing feel like a guilty pleasure rather than work, my brain naturally makes more time to do the thing I love.
Describe your writing style.
We've all heard of plotters and pantsers. I'm neither. I'm more of a quilter. I see a vivid scene in my head and write it down. There are times when an entire book hinges on one significant scene. Once I have three to five scenes with the same people, I can usually shuffle the pieces around to find some logical order. Then I sew them together and bridge the gaps. When I'm done, I'm usually up to 70k words. Going back and adding details and little nuggets I've discovered along the way can easily bump it over 80k, and now I have a book. Or at least the first version of a book.
What is your writing process? For instance do you do an outline first? Do you do the chapters first?
I'm all about scenes. Only when I have between three and five scenes for the same two people, do I step back and assess where this might go, or what needs to happen for them to reach the happily ever after. Necessities get penciled in at the appropriate spots, and then I fill the gaps.
What are common traps for aspiring writers?
I don't know any aspiring writers personally, but I would assume focusing too much on editing a single chapter to death. I used to do that and it killed my momentum. It's easy to go crazy over the page in front of you and try to perfect it, while the remainder of the story never gets completed.
If you could tell your younger writing self anything, what would it be?
Stop feeling guilty. The kids will be fine, the dishes and laundry can wait, and Hubby is totally okay with you taking time to write. Everything is fine.
How long on average does it take you to write a book?
Usually around six months for the first draft. The time needed to completely finish it for publication depends on the beta-reader's input, the changes needed, and the success of any needed re-writes or alterations.
Do you believe in writer’s block?
Nope. No such thing. Am I stuck sometimes? Absolutely. Writing 80k words per book is a lot, and if I get lost in there somewhere, it just means I'm human. The trick is realizing there's a reason my words stopped flowing. Usually I'm doing something wrong, whether I'm writing the chapter in the wrong person's head, or I need to finish scenes deeper in the story before knowing what isn't workin.
Secrets, demons, lovers and murder…
Who can you trust?
In the Dark
The Cities Below Book 1
by Jen Colly
Genre: Paranormal Romance
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At the scene before him, he shook his head. Faith lay sprawled on her stomach across his bed, her right arm folded over her heart, left arm pressed somewhere between her stomach and the comforter. The sight of her hair completely covering her face, her nose peeking out, almost made him laugh out loud.
Regaining his composure, he covered her with a blanket. He should have turned around then, walked away, found the couch and let sleep take him. Instead he remained there, smiling.
Something was wrong with her, or maybe him. He rarely lost his temper, and never with a woman. But he had with her. When he'd seen her running across the grass, his heart nearly stopped with fear. Steffen had been close by, ready to kill. Yet he remained thankful Steffen's shift hadn't ended. No one else would have recognized Faith.
Then he'd yelled at her. He hadn't meant to raise his voice, but he couldn't control himself at the time. She put him on edge. He'd been insanely jealous of Steffen simply speaking to her, and ready to fight a council member over his right to keep her. She unhinged him.
Soren controlled the urge to brush her hair from her face. He wanted to lie next to her and pull her against his chest, and just hold her. As strange as it sounded, sleep held no appeal if he couldn't have her beside him.
He couldn't recall standing over a woman as he did now, wondering if she needed anything he could provide. Did she need another blanket? Had she gone to sleep hungry?
What kind of daily rituals did she have? Would she mind if he lay beside her?
With a growl, he closed his eyes, and turned away from her. His instincts screamed at him, demanding he bind her to him as his mate. Those internal impulses always had a reason, a solid need for being present, but this time he couldn't understand them. Faith already belonged to him. According to his laws, he could do anything he wanted with her, but it wasn't enough.
If he mated her, she'd have to become vampire. It would be an all or nothing deal. She couldn't be turned without being his mate, and she couldn't be his mate without being turned. This kind of thing should only be considered if...
Most vampires mated, binding themselves to someone they loved. Rarely, though, did a vampire find their true mate. Histories and legends said the only thing more potent than the calling of the sun was the pull of your other half, the one meant to save you from death and give you life.
Staring at Faith, he couldn't believe it possible. Not after all these years, not with a human.
Placing his hand on the mattress, he leaned closer, wanting to somehow test his theory.
Faith woke with a start as the mattress dipped, and rolled onto her back. She peered up at him, but her eyelids remained mostly closed, as if she were unprepared for the bright light of the room.
“What is it? What's wrong?” she mumbled, still half asleep and groggy.
“Nothing, get your rest.” He'd forced out the words, unsure if he lied to her, or himself.
She flopped back onto her stomach. Readjusting herself on the bed, she tucked her hands under her body. Before long, her breathing became even.
Soren pulled a thickly cushioned chair near the bed and watched her sleep. The possibility she was his one true mate could not be denied, but he would ignore that hope and be pleased with reality. She chased away the loneliness in his life, even if fate hadn't handpicked her for him. Caring for her gave him a new purpose, a different reason to live.
BLURB:
Fate will not be denied.
Faith should be crowned "Queen of the Wrong Place and Wrong Time." Her impulsive, solo trip to Paris seems like a genius idea – until she loses her way back to the hotel. In the rain. At night. When the two men she flags down for directions shove her into the nearest alley, she fears the worst.
Soren was irritable. Not surprising as he'd held off feeding as long as possible. The thought of feeding from someone he knew turned his stomach, and so he ventured above to become just another body in the chaos of Paris. But when the cries of a female in distress reach his ears, everything inside him demands he protect her, and he is unable to hide the true nature of his species.
Soren has no choice but to keep her and bring her to his underground city. It doesn't take him long to realize why he'd been drawn to Paris, to that street, that alley...Faith. She is the other half of his soul. Admitting the truth to her could damage the fragile connection they built, but when an old enemy, lurking in the dark attacks, they are separated. Now, he may never have the chance.
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Bound
The Cities Below Book 2
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Heavy footfalls of a Guardian approached, and Keir vanished. He’d easily taken his Spirit form, moving freely without being seen, even among his own kind. The only downfall of using Spirit was the chilled air it created around him. It would tip off the Guardians to his presence. Backing away from Morley, he tucked his invisible self into the far corner of the cell.
The Guardian glanced left and right as he sped through, no doubt rushing his turn to check on the prisoners. He’d just passed the cell when his steps faltered in mid-stride. He backtracked, leaned closer, and studied the man on the floor.
“Quint! Morley’s dead!” He yanked the keys off his belt, fumbled through them. The cell door swung open just as Quint came racing down the narrow aisle, his freckled face flushed.
“It’s the same knife. Red rose on a white hilt. It’s him,” the Guardian whispered, glancing over his shoulder. “But he’s never killed in the dungeons.”
“Or slit a throat.” Quint motioned the Guardian into silence and brought a radio to his lips. “Captain? We have a situation in the jail.”
The radio buzzed briefly before the captain’s steady voice broke through. “Go ahead. What is it?”
“Cancel the execution. It’s already happened.”
“What?” the captain roared. “Who killed him?”
Quint stared down at Morley’s corpse. “I don’t know, but he was killed with a very familiar knife.”
Ten seconds of silence suddenly gave way to the captain’s controlled voice. “I’m about to enter a council meeting with an unexpected guest from Balinese. I can’t leave. Handle it, Quint.”
“Yes, sir.” Quint clipped the radio to his hip. “Seal the jail. No one goes in or out, including Guardians. I want a full head count first, Guardians and prisoners, then a thorough search.”
For nearly half an hour Keir watched the Guardians methodically check the jail from cell to cell, top to bottom. The captain’s second in command possessed an altogether entertaining tenacity when thrown into action. Keir hated to walk away, but the lady waited.
In his invisible state, he sent Quint a mock salute, then turned, moving through the jail without giving his path much thought. He’d been here time and again, and he’d be back. Blocked walls, iron mazes, and wasting life. Home, sweet home.
Keir skirted along the walls, keeping the cooler air of his Spirit clear of the Guardians. Often that chill could be felt nearly two feet away from his location. Being captured was not part of his plan. Best not to take the chance.
The stairs carried him away from the prison to freely search for Morley’s intended target. Galbraith was an oddly constructed city, the cylindrical structure diving deep into the ground with a dozen levels. Originally designed to separate nobility from the lower classes, it remained true to its purpose. The layout made finding Lady Arianne a simple task.
As Keir had just eliminated the need to execute Morley, the lady had no reason to make an appearance at the arena. Tonight being Monday, he scratched the chapel off his list. It wasn’t mealtime, which excluded the dining hall. By process of elimination, if she wasn’t in the council room, she’d be home.
Still cloaked in Spirit, Keir paused not far from the closed and guarded doors of the council room. Relentless bickering seeped through the doors. He cringed and turned away. Her home waited two floors above.
BLURB:
His heart belongs to one woman, his life to another.
Keir didn't exist. Not anymore. The Lady of Galbraith had saved him from death. Forever indebted to her alone, Keir had become her confidant, her spy, her assassin. He was her secret weapon against those trying to remove her from power. When Keir is ambushed by a pack of demons, he used the last of his strength to return home and warn the Lady of impending danger.
To say she was stunned when a dying man fell to her feet, was an understatement. For the first time in her life, Cleo acted on instinct and without hesitation – their lives now undeniably bound together. Her single act of benevolence left her reeling, confronted with the knowledge that a stranger had more care and consideration for her well-being than her own family.
Political upheaval is sweeping through the city of Galbraith, splitting alliances and stoking discord. When Cleo is abducted, taken in retaliation from the side she's chosen, only Keir can get her back. And he will, even if he must start a war.
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Beneath the Night
The Cities Below Book 3
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Now he spoke to his people, his voice reverberating off the arena walls. “I am Lord Navarre Casteel, and this is my city. Live by my laws or die. The demon is hereby sentenced to death. High Justice, carry out my decree.”
Cheers rose again as Navarre took his seat beside Savard and settled in to watch the execution.
“Yes, well,” Vidor said, pausing to take a sip of wine. “If they didn’t know you’d woke before, they certainly do now. Impressive showmanship.”
“As long as its death is equally impressive, then I’ve made my point,” Navarre said over his shoulder. He turned then to Savard. “And who have you chosen for my High Justice? Caradoc perhaps?”
Captain Savard didn’t answer, but the crafty smile on his face meant Navarre would be in for one hell of a surprise.
High Justice was not a sought-after position, though one greatly respected. The men who flourished in the job were a different breed entirely. They believed firmly in what they did, and the laws they upheld. Even so, they had the uncanny ability to shut down all emotions once inside the arena, and to kill.
Cat stepped from the Justice’s door, her panther at her side, guarding her like a sentinel. Navarre stood, helpless to do anything but watch her stride purposefully toward the demon, her steps sure and stable in the uneven sand.
“I don’t want her near that thing,” Navarre said, not caring who heard him.
“She’s doing it again,” Vidor complained, pointing at Cat. “It’s bad enough the woman wears pants and those corsets with nothing over them, but red? Blood red? Inappropriate. Navarre, you must do something about this.”
“Perhaps you’d like to jump into the arena and kill the demon for us. No? Then leave it,” Savard said to Vidor, then stood. “Please sit, and trust me, my lord. Your demon will be killed. She’s High Justice for good reason.”
Navarre reluctantly sat. Savard’s unconcerned observation of the happenings below helped, but still Navarre sat on the edge of his seat.
Steadily, Cat began to stalk toward the demon, the panther on her heels. Titus and Graydon shoved the demon down until its knees dropped to the sand. When Cat neared the demon, she snapped her fingers and pointed to her right. Barro obeyed, separating from her side and heading in the direction she’d commanded. The panther was intimidating, as was her control over him.
Leisurely, she circled the demon and the Guardians holding it in place. The demon’s red eyes and disdainful sneer followed her.
Cat drew her sword, a heavy, well-built blade, fit for a High Justice. She seemed to hold it easily in her hand, as if she’d done so a thousand times. But instead of taking a stance in the sand and driving the blade through the demon, she walked away, her back to the demon as if the creature was no threat.
Eight, maybe ten feet away from the demon, Cat flipped her sword, stabbing the blade into the sand. The crowd erupted, leaping to their feet, cheering wildly.
“What is she doing?” Navarre asked, afraid he already knew.
“Proving your point,” Savard said, his words and bearing proud.
Titus and Graydon released the demon, intentionally setting it loose. The demon never spared a glance at the two armed Guardians behind it. Instead it raced for the sword in the sand. The demon tugged the sword free, making a show of swinging the blade in wide, arching sweeps.
The crowd hushed as the demon closed in on her. When the demon was within striking distance, Barro snarled, crouching low in the sand, but he didn’t strike. Quick as lightning, Cat dropped her hands, smoothly lifting the short swords from their sheaths on her thighs.
Cat spun around, finally facing the demon as it raised the sword overhead. It brought the sword straight down, intending to cleave her in two. For an endless moment, fear gripped Navarre’s heart, but then Cat crossed her short swords above her head and blocked the blow.
The crowd roared their approval.
Locked at an impasse, the demon towered over her, its wiry body straining to make the blade connect with her flesh. Try as it might, it could not.
Navarre tilted his head, studying her. Cat, a slender and rather short female, was matching, if not besting, a demon male double her size with sheer strength. The kind of strength a demon might possess. Leaning back into his chair, Navarre no longer worried for her safety.
The power she demonstrated was effortless. Yes, her leg braced her weight, and the demon’s, and her arms trembled when the creature pushed against her, but her power wasn’t simply physical. She held her swords like she’d never taken them off in her life, like they were a part of her.
With the sword in her left hand, Cat kept the demon’s blade at bay long enough for her to disengage her right and punch the demon in the face with the hilt. Black blood sprayed from its nose.
The unexpected blow forced the demon back. As she spun away, the demon shouted in pain, its eyes flaring red. It grabbed for a noticeable gash in its leg, black blood seeping through its pants. It pinned her with a glare, angry and injured.
Cat sheathed her swords and with both hands, motioned for the demon to come here.
BLURB:
Demons are not the only enemy among them...
Waking from a seven year healing sleep should have been the biggest shock of Navarre's night. It was not. The brave female standing before him was, without a doubt, his fated mate. That wasn't the stunner either. She'd been sent here to feed him, to bring him back and restore his strength, risking her life to save his. Still, not yet the biggest surprise. What had Navarre reeling was her red hair. She was decidedly not his kind.
Cat had responsibilities. Five, to be exact. The children in her care were not hers, but she would do anything to protect them, and that meant staying in Balinese. The evidence of her mixed species was something she could not hide. As this city belonged to Navarre, only he has the authority to allow her to stay. Cat willingly faces her greatest fear, and with it, her past.
Beneath the night, a dark plot unfolds, and Navarre finds himself in danger of losing not only Cat, but his entire city.
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Sheltered
The Cities Below Book 4
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His shift was nearly over. Rollin drew in a deep breath, savoring the fresh night air. Of all the posts he’d rotated through, picking up the slack for other Guardians, filling in where needed, the gate was by far his favorite. Though standing beside Ivan for the entire night had challenged his patience.
“Not much longer,” Ivan warned quietly, his connection with the rising of the sun much stronger than Rollin’s.
A muffled cry suddenly floated through the night from the forest before them. Both men froze. Rollin scanned the tree line. “That was no animal.”
“I’ll check it out,” Ivan said.
“There.” Before Ivan could take a single step, Rollin pointed to the trees. “You won’t have to.”
A dark-haired woman raced toward them. Her hand grasped her polka dot dress, lifting it above her knees as she ran, the loose fabric whipping wildly behind her. She was moving fast.
Ivan crossed his arms over his chest, studying her approach. “You don’t see that every day.”
“No.” Rollin’s eyes widened in disbelief. “She looks…”
“She looks like a 1950's American pinup,” Ivan said, sounding intrigued.
Rollin couldn’t disagree with Ivan, but he’d meant that the woman looked terrified, racing toward them as if the devil himself was on her heels. When her feet touched the wide stone walkway leading to the gate, she didn’t slow. Her strapless dress wasn’t made for this kind of activity, and every time she took a step, her breasts nearly broke free.
“Oh, hell.” Rollin’s words came out on a breath.
Ivan laughed, an oddly dark sound. “Close your eyes, boy. You’re not old enough to see those. She’s too much woman for you.”
Rollin brushed off the insults and ignored Ivan. This frightened woman needed help, and though he was always ready and willing, there was no reason to leave his post. She was coming to them, with no visible danger surrounding her, and the sun had not yet brightened the sky. There was time. He trusted his training, allowing events to play out while he remained observant. Prepared.
She glanced at Ivan, then her wild-eyed gaze settled on Rollin. Rollin gave her a nod of encouragement and motioned for her to keep running, and when he opened his arms to receive her, she ran headlong toward him.
Suddenly Ivan stepped between them, preventing the woman from reaching Rollin. She looked up at Ivan and screamed, sheer panic in her movements as she twisted to break loose from her captor. She freed one hand from Ivan's crushing hold and reached for Rollin, those beautiful doe eyes wide and pleading, her lashes wet from tears.
“Help me!” she gasped through heaving breaths. God, he could hear the desperation in her voice, felt it as she reached for him. Why was she so afraid of Ivan?
She twisted again, turning away from Ivan, squeezing her eyes shut so she couldn’t see him. Rollin couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped forward and took her cold, shaking hand in his, her fingers biting into his flesh as if he were her very lifeline.
“Ivan, you’re scaring her. Let her go.” His sharp command drew Ivan’s attention. “She means no harm.”
“Famous last words,” Ivan muttered, but didn’t protest as Rollin pulled the woman away and into the circle of his arms.
Rollin didn’t stop to think, didn’t second-guess his actions. He pulled the woman against his chest and hugged her tight, never once thinking he shouldn’t, as she was infinitely more comfortable with him. Though her breathing remained ragged, she melted into him, seeming to calm by the second. At least until he covered her bare shoulder with his hand in an attempt to warm her. She gasped at the skin-to-skin contact, and at first he’d thought she’d only shivered, but her trembling didn’t stop.
He pulled away slightly and curled a finger beneath her chin, tipping her face up. Her watery eyes shimmered in the dim light. “Are you hurt?”
“I… I don’t…” She’d begun to answer him, but then turned her focus inward, seemingly speaking to herself. Though her words were mumbled, he heard her say, “I wasn’t supposed to cry, was I?”
Rollin tried again, gentling his voice. “What are you running from?”
The woman’s focus returned in a flash, her eyes meeting his, her fear suddenly gone. Something just clicked into place, as if she’d caught a passing memory. Her jaw dropped ever so slightly, and then her lips trembled as she whispered a single word, “Demon.”
BLURB:
When the enemy is your mind, there is no escape.
Bette feared the city, and for good reason. Valenna had become corrupt, targeting citizens with any substantial amount of wealth or power to their name. Her self-imposed solitary confinement caused her to lose track of time, and her sanity. She could no longer live this way. Only three solutions existed: allow Valenna to dictate her fate, die in the sun, or flee to the fabled city of peace. Bette ran.
Rollin was a Guardian. His job defined his life, the man he'd become, and his core beliefs. Everything he did was in service to the city of Balinese and the citizens within. When a terrified female crashed into his arms, begging for help, he did not hesitate. Everyone and everything seemed to frighten her, except Rollin. He took her home, and once safe under his protection, she began to flourish.
Problem was, in her plea for sanctuary, she claimed a demon chased her toward Balinese, but none had been found. His affection for her grows rapidly, as does his concern over her lie. Then, the arrival of a demon forces Rollin to question his beliefs, his place among the royal family, and the motives of the woman he so lovingly sheltered.
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The Guardian
The Cities Below Book 5
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A total of twelve Justice had been slaughtered in less than two nights by a single Forbidden. None of them had been prepared for the violent force of unholy power and honed skill that was Devlin Savard.
When it was done, the Forbidden didn’t bother to look around, to make certain none had enough life left in them to make a second attempt. Savard knew he’d finished them.
Stepping over the bodies and twisted limbs, the Forbidden strode to the trees, toward Gideon. In a flashing moment of panic, Gideon looked down at his body, made certain he remained concealed in his invisible Spirit form. He was, but the confirmation only gave him a marginal sense of security. Savard still advanced up the hill in his direction.
The slippery layer of snow on the grass didn’t slow the Forbidden, his injuries didn’t affect him, and Gideon couldn’t help but wonder if there was anyone in this world who could take down Savard.
Savard walked into the forest, never slowing, weaving around the bare trees at the top of the hill until he faced the spot where Gideon stood, still invisible and undetectable, or so he’d thought. How the hell had Savard known where to find him?
“Afraid to face me?” Savard asked, but not at all in a taunting manner, as Gideon had expected. Then, seeming somehow disappointed, Savard turned his back on Gideon, casually surveying the carnage he’d left in the clearing. “I can understand why.”
Gideon didn’t care for confrontation. Never had. It was a ridiculous trait for a man in his position of both Guardian and Justice to possess. Some would say he’d chosen the wrong profession, but few were aware he’d had no choice in the matter. Releasing his Spirit, Gideon appeared not eight feet behind the infamous Forbidden.
“Ah,” Savard said in a satisfied manner at the sound of Gideon’s boots sinking into the snow. Turning slowly to face him, Savard looked him over as if he’d already known what he would find. “The man who commanded the Valenna Justice.”
Not caring for Savard’s usage of the word command in the past tense, Gideon assured him, “My captain will send more men.”
“He always does,” Savard said, his gaze drifting off to some distant point. As his body turned slightly, it was clear the Forbidden’s shirt glistened wetly in the moonlight, sticking to his side.
“You’re bleeding.” Gideon smiled, tight-lipped. Behnam had made a damn good strike.
“Am I?” Savard said easily, as if he hadn’t noticed, and then his gaze caught Gideon’s sword still secured in its scabbard. “Yet I see you’ve no interest in rekindling the fight.”
Gideon shrugged. It was true. He’d tracked him down and set the Justice loose as instructed. Nothing more. He refused to risk his life when Captain Basteen’s betrayal of the very laws Gideon himself struggled to uphold lingered fresh in his mind. “I don’t see the point. This round has been won.”
“So the generals live to fight the next battle. Is that the idea?”
“Something of the sort.”
“Be honest. That was hardly a fair fight. You brought them here to die.” Savard turned his back on Gideon again, boldly walking away. Then, just before he went down the other side of the ridge, Savard called out, his voice echoing in the night, “Want me dead? Bring an army.”
BLURB:
Prepared to die...fighting to live.
Savard was in a mood to die, but when a human insists on saving his life, death is no longer an immediate option. He knew of no species – human, vampire, or demon – that could see him while in his invisible Spirit form. Unique to this world, this woman's singularity was a danger to the entire vampire race.
Waking behind bars in an underground vampire city was not how Sera envisioned her night drive ending. She has come to expect nothing from those who pass through her life, but this man, dying on the side of the road, proves to be different. Savard fights to free her from tyrannical vampire laws and to hide her unique abilities. What Sera doesn't understand, is why he would fight his growing love for her.
Savard's haunted past threatens to tear them apart. Soon, Sera discovers just how far her guardian is willing to go, and what he's willing to do, to keep her safe.
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Night Stalker
The Cities Below Book 6
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Dulcina allowed him to capture her wrist. The action had become his habit, his ounce of control. His fingers were hot, a sign his body was using a lot of energy to heal.
Gently, she swept his scruffy, dark blond hair off his forehead. He looked weather-worn, the deep creases on his face likely attributed to a hard life, more so than age. Rough around the edges. She liked a man with a little wear and tear on him.
If Rafe had decided to kill him, this defenseless human wouldn't have stood a chance.
Plus, the drugs she'd used to sedate and mellow his pain left him vaguely aware of his surroundings until the dose faded from his system. Normally, Dulcina wouldn’t give a damn, but not with this one. She admired his spirit and had a driving urge to know what kind of man could take on three demons and live. That is, if he lived.
She’d found no severe external bleeding, but while that would be a blessing for a vampire, the rules were different with humans. They were fragile. Torn vessels healed at a slower rate, bones took an eternity, and if an organ had been damaged? She’d never know until he died.
Even in sleep, he kept his left side guarded. Whatever pained him the most, it was beneath his palm. Slipping her hand under his, she ran two fingers over his protected side, applying a slight pressure as she searched. She found the source of his pain easily, and a strangled sound became trapped in his throat as he gripped her wrist tighter.
His hand locked around her wrist didn't hurt, but something about the intensity of his hold spoke volumes. His touch relayed more than physical pain. She looked up, and Dulcina held his gaze in the dim light. Those rich, hazel eyes, peeking through slightly swollen eyelids, were leery of her every move.
The desire to make him more comfortable with her presence led her to sit on the edge of the bed as she faced him. She allowed him to keep hold of her wrist. He couldn’t hurt her, and if he thought that less than formidable grip on her wrist gave him control in his vulnerable position, then he could keep that illusion.
“Ribs are likely fractured,” she offered on a whisper, having the need to reassure him. “Not broken.”
Scrunching his eyebrows, he looked up at her with an expression that said, 'Well, yeah.' He shifted his shoulders, making an effort to sit up in bed. She let him struggle, watching in silence as he valiantly held back any sign he was in pain. After a brief moment without much progress, he swallowed hard, beat back his pride, and without a hint of question in his voice, said, “Help me up.”
“Why?”
He pointed to the bathroom. With a nod, Dulcina gingerly helped him into a sitting position, then steadied him as he eased onto his feet. Nothing appeared severely damaged on the lower half of his body, and when his first two steps seemed sure enough, she released him. His shuffling walk across the floor was slow and deliberate, and after a short time alone in the bathroom, he returned at the same careful pace.
She moved out of the way, allowing him to approach the bed on his own. He eased toward the edge of the bed, and eventually sat. She watched the battle in his mind shine through his eyes as he remained there, sending the mattress a leery glare. It wasn't difficult to sort out his hesitation, and truly, there was only one solution.
Dulcina took over. She walked right up to him, placed her hand on his back, between his shoulder blades, and eased him down to the mattress. Surprisingly, he trusted her, and let his weight fall against her hand.
“Amazon,” he mumbled.
“Invalid,” she countered, her response too swift to pull the amusement from her voice.
The left corner of his lips twitched in what might have been a smile, until that last moment where his ribs shifting to settle against the mattress had him tensing in pain all over again.
Dulcina hadn't actually enjoyed anyone's company before, but this man? She looked forward to his moments of clarity, and the humor in his words. There was a fire in him she admired.
BLURB:
He had every intention of crossing a line.
In all honesty, Jake had to give his trip to Paris mixed reviews. Beaten and broken by seemingly invincible men with eerie red eyes marked the low point, but abduction by a sexy, knife-wielding vampire? Better than fireworks on the Fourth of July. She was the best medicine for a wounded man's body and soul. A few busted ribs cost him precious time, but he had to keep moving. Call it vengeance or justice, either way, Jake had a man to kill.
Dulcina had witnessed the destruction left in the wake of demons for far too many years to be rattled by a bloody body. She brought him home and catered to his comfort. Big mistake. The smart-mouth, irritatingly likable man pulled through, and was determined to leave, but with knowledge of other species in his head, the human is a problem.
To stop Jake from escaping, Dulcina promised to help him finish his mission, but the price was steep, and neither were prepared for what they discovered. Secrets are uncovered, and as a Night Stalker charged with protecting all species, Dulcina is forced to make a difficult choice.
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Jen Colly
Jen Colly is the rare case of an author who rebelled against reading assignments throughout her school years. Now she prefers reading books in a series, which has led her to writing her first paranormal romance series: The Cities Below. She will write about anything that catches her fancy, though truth be told, her weaknesses are pirates and vampires.
She lives in Ohio with her supportive husband, two kids, and four rescued cats.
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The excerpt sounds really interesting. Thanks for sharing.
It's absolutely gorgeous here! Thank you for hosting!