Yay! My baby is finally on the shelf-- I can't tell you how excited I am that Xandra's story is finally out! And also, today is my real baby's birthday. My oldest turns sixteen today, which is really, really hard for me to imagine (yes, I was a child bride ;) He's celebrating with the keys to a car and I'm celebrating by freaking out, LOL.
But back to Soulbound. Here's today's excerpt. And don't forget to comment, tweet and/or FB about it to get extra points for the gift card and book giveaway!!!!
Have a great Tuesday :)
Excerpt #2:
“Is something wrong?”
he finally asks, letting his hand fall back to his side. There’s no impatience
in the question, no condescension. Just an honest concern that has me forgetting
the whispers about him. Or at least putting them aside for a while. Despite my
best intentions, I lower my guard.
“You mean besides the fact that I just humiliated myself in
front of my entire coven?” I answer, settling down beside him as he takes off
his socks and shoes.
“And what looks like a fair amount of outsiders as well,
don’t forget.”
“Gee, thanks. I was totally in danger of forgetting that,
so I appreciate the reminder.”
“I do what I can.”
“And not a thing more, I bet.” I narrow my eyes at him. “You
need lessons on how to pretend to give a damn.”
“Oh, I give a damn, Xandra. I just didn’t think you’d want
me to lie to you. I can try, but I warn you, I’m not very good at it.”
“Someone like you doesn’t have to be.” I, on the other
hand, have spent my whole life living a lie. Trying to be who my parents want
me to be no matter how hopeless I am at it.
“Someone like me?” There’s a dangerous note in his voice
now, but I don’t care. I’m feeling reckless.
“I’m not stupid. I know who you are. Someone like you doesn’t
have to answer to anyone.”
This time it’s his eyes that narrow. “You’d be surprised.”
To the side of us a peach tree bursts into flame. For a
moment, Declan looks stunned, like he can’t imagine how it happened. I wonder
what that would be like, to have so much power that it could just leak out like
that without me even noticing. I don’t think I’d like it—I’m too much of a
control freak.
A second later, the fire goes out as suddenly as it
started. He doesn’t say anything else and neither do I. Instead, we just sit
here, the tension between us ratcheting up with each minute that passes.
“So, why did you come?” I finally ask. “You don’t know my
family, don’t know me. You aren’t even part of our coven. So why did you travel
halfway around the world—”
“Halfway across the country, not the world. I was in New
York before this.”
“Whatever.” I couldn’t care less about semantics when there
are questions I want answers to. “So why, out of all the places you could be
right now, did you choose to be here?”
“Because you’re here.”
My gaze jumps to his. I’ve been careful not to look him in
the eye since those first moments, scared of what I might find. Now, I know
that fear is justified. Power—overwhelming, unimaginable power—swirls in the
obsidian depths and I can’t look away. I’m pinned, as trapped here as I was
back there on that stage. More so, really, because here it feels like there’s
no escape route. No back door to scuttle out of. Nowhere to run.
I desperately want to look away. But the pull is intense,
like he’s reached out and grabbed me and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I’m playing prey to his predator.
Even worse, there’s a strange lethargy pulsing through me. Pulling
me into him. Pulling me under. I start to fall . . .
No! I don’t know what game he’s playing, but I won’t be
anyone’s pawn. Not anymore. When I jumped off that stage tonight and ran away,
I started a new path for myself. A new life. Instinctively, I know that this
isn’t it.
I finally find the strength to wrench my gaze from his and
as I do, I feel this pop, like I’ve ruptured something deep inside. I gasp,
wrap my arms around myself in an instinctive bid for comfort. Declan doesn’t
react at all, doesn’t move a muscle, but I think he felt it too.
When silver sparks of energy whip through the air around
us, I’m sure of it.
Reaching a hand out, I capture one of the sparks. I can’t
stop myself. I want to know, for just a second, what that kind of power feels
like. It sizzles against my skin, crackling and spitting, burning me, until I
open my fingers and let what’s left of the spark fall back out into the air.
My palm throbs where it touched me, white hot and painful. It
takes all my energy not to flinch, but I manage it. It’s my turn not to react. Except,
Declan knows—just as I did with him. He reaches out, gently cups my hand in his
own. Strokes the fingers of his other hand lightly over the burn.
It should have been smooth, easy, but the second his skin
brushes against my palm, the entire world ignites. Fragments of memories I
shouldn’t have rush at me—terrifying, fascinating,
compelling.
I close my eyes, try to block them out, but they’re still there behind my
eyelids. Still there, deep in my mind as every nerve ending I have lights up
like it’s Christmas at Rockefeller Center.
I order myself to pull away, to break the connection this
one last time, but I can’t do it. The pleasure, woven as it is amidst the pain,
staggers me and I can’t do anything but sit there and soak it all in.
The pain dissipates as suddenly as it came, but in its
place . . . in its place is a silver Seba, identical in all but
color to the one on Declan’s neck.
“What did you do?” I gasp, looking at the new mark on my
palm. It shimmers in the moonlight, is the most beautiful—and frightening—thing
I’ve ever seen.
“That wasn’t me, Xandra.” But he looks shaken as his
fingers close around mine in a grip so possessive it makes my breath catch in
my throat. I start to pull back—this is too weird, even for the daughter of
witch royalty—but then I realize his hand is shaking even worse than mine. It’s
enough, that hint of vulnerability, to keep me here when every instinct I have
screams at me to flee.
“What—” My voice breaks and I clear my throat, try again. “What’s
happening?” The sparks aren’t stopping. In fact, they’re spinning all around us
like a freak, midsummer snow flurry—growing hotter, more plentiful, the longer
we’re touching.
Declan doesn’t answer, just shakes his head. I get the
impression, right or wrong, that for all his power and experience he doesn’t
know what’s going on any more than I do. I take a step back and electricity
arcs between us, flowing from him into me and back again.
Every cell in my body is vibrating with it, every nerve
ending screaming with the agony of it. Just when I think it’s over, that the
electricity is going to rip us apart, he does something even more unexpected. He
leans forward, and slowly lowers his mouth to mine.
Rockefeller
Center turns into Mardi Gras, the Fourth of July and New Year’s Eve all rolled
into one. Too bad I never thought to
wonder what happens after the ball drops.