Bound by Prophecy (Bound Series Book 3) (29 page)
Read Bound by Prophecy (Bound Series Book 3) Online
Authors: Stormy Smith
R
ead on
…
Enjoy an exclusive excerpt from Stormy’s next project, a contemporary clean new adult story.
Who She Was
Part One
Trevor
August
“What exactly is the point of us being here, Sam?” I asked my new roommate.
Sam shoved his shaggy red hair out of his face and looked hesitantly around the crowded back yard of Sigma Alpha house.
There had to be a hundred students between the house and the yard. Flasks were passed and innocent grimaces, immediately followed by hacking coughs, followed.
A parade of sorority pledges were being auctioned off one by one, with shouts of “Twenty five bucks” and “Fifty bucks” interrupting the chatter of commentary on everything from their hair to the their heels.
“I’m pledging. I’m doing this,” he replied, narrowing his eyes and standing taller.
“You convincing me or yourself?” I muttered. We’d only been on campus for a week and with the cliques already forming around us, college was starting out just like high school ended. Great.
Sam and I stood awkwardly in the center of the yard as he looked between the punch I assumed was spiked and the stage, deciding which way to go.
His nervous look reappeared and I threw him a bone. “Come on, man. Let’s check out this dating auction. I won’t explain how archaic and ridiculous it is since they are at least shaming the freshman under the guise of donating to charity.”
Sam’s relief was evident as he led us toward the stage. Though, stage was probably too nice of a word. It looked like someone who failed shop class nailed a bunch of pallets together. Still, the freshman sorority pledges did their best to strut their way from one end to the other and pray some frat boy would save them from their own humiliation. If I were them, I’d hand over the fifty bucks and call it a wash.
We stood toward the back of the crowd and my eyes wandered the area. I was a music major, a loner, and though they didn’t know it, the last person a frat wanted in their mix. I would ask questions they didn’t want to answer. I had a tendency to challenge the rules, whatever they were.
The crowd erupted in claps and cheers just as Sam exclaimed, “Wow. Look at her. I mean, just,
wow
!”
I did look at her and my breath froze in my lungs. Like ice forming on a rainy windshield, it quickly locked the air in my chest. I couldn’t move. My heart thundered behind my ribs and I heard the echo between my ears.
It was the look on her face that broke the spell. The smile she’d plastered on to cover the panic. The way her eyes moved over every head in the room with focus. How her shallow breaths expanded and deflated her chest rapidly. She was terrified. She didn’t want to be here, and she was my best friend — at least, she used to be.
“One hundred and fifty dollars.” My voice cut through the noise of the crowd and heads turned to see where the sound originated.
But I wasn’t looking at them. I was looking at her.
Charlie’s tight smile and perfect posture relaxed by a small degree, her nerves obvious to me and likely no one else. The small stage she stood on wobbled beneath her sky-high heels as she peered into the darkness where I stood.
She couldn’t see me. I smiled to myself as the emcee announced my next two months of spending money won the bid. I hoped the Animal Rescue League would buy decent dog food with it all.
As soon as Charlie released the hand of the half-drunk frat boy who helped her down from the stage, she made her way in my direction.
She was ten feet away when I came out from the shadows.
I knew every inch of her face and knew the moment she recognized me. I saw the slight widening of her eyes and the flare of her nostrils as she tried to breathe. She forced herself forward until she finally stood a short foot from me.
“Hey, Charlie. How goes it? It’s been awhile.” Rocking back on my heels as I pushed my glasses up on my nose, I gave her a relaxed smile — one I certainly didn’t feel.
“Charlotte. My name is Charlotte. And what are you doing here, Trevor?” Her voice was cold, but I caught the shake in it, and she looked everywhere but at me.
As soon as she realized her scowl was on display for everyone watching — and they were watching — Charlie forced a smile. Stretched lips over too-white teeth that didn’t belong to the girl I knew.
“Charlotte,” I said, drawing out the last syllable. It felt wrong coming out of my mouth. “You hate being called Charlotte. And why did you raid Katie’s closet? Is this a joke?” I waved my hand around at the sorority rush dating auction I just saved her from.
The fake smile fell from her face and she paled.
“Th-these are mine,” she sputtered, smoothing her hands over her bright green, skin-tight skirt. "I’m not the person you used to know, Trevor.”
I waited for more. There had to be more of an explanation than that.
“I…it…this is pointless.” She turned to walk away and I grabbed her elbow.
“No, stop. I want to know whoever you are now…Charlotte. It’s been too long.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “I miss you.”
She froze, her exhale rounding her shoulders.
“Fine. Fine, Trevor,” she conceded, not even turning back to look at me. “One dinner. You bought it, so I’ll give it to you. But that’s it.”
“I’ll take it,” I responded quietly, and then I let her walk away from me — this time.
I turned to find Sam giving me a surprised look. Then his eyes trailed over my shoulder.
“Dude, I like you,” I warned, “don’t make me punch you.” I refused to turn around, but if Sam didn’t pull his eyes from the skirt hugging every inch of Charlie from the waist down, we would most certainly have issues.
I ground my teeth together and shoved my glasses up again. I had been protecting Charlie my whole life, but back then, she had been a tiny girl with a big attitude.
Charlotte
was something else entirely.
Charlotte was still small, but she had curves that hadn’t existed when we were fourteen. Charlie’s chin-length black hair and rock-band T-shirts were gone. Instead, Charlotte wore her hair long and light brown, which I knew was her natural color. Her green skirt matched her green heels. Her black button down was tucked in and unbuttoned just far enough to make a guy wonder without showing anything she shouldn’t.
She was putting on a good show, but I wasn’t buying it.
“Care to explain?” Sam asked, his eyes flicking back and forth over my shoulder.
The best I could do was grunt as I walked around him through the Sigma Alpha house. I needed away from the noise and all the people.
“I’m paying my tab and then I’m out of here,” I threw over my shoulder. I felt Sam fall in line behind me.
The day I met him, my only thought was his name was perfect because he looked like Sam from Lord of the Rings. His hair was shaggy and he was quiet; the kind of kid who probably got picked on in high school. It was one of ten reasons I used to explain why a frat might not be the best place for him, but Sam was determined to be a different guy than he had been.
I hadn’t meant to tell her I missed her. Those words were my secret. For four years, I held them close and refused to voice them. When she walked away from me just now, fear shot through my system and I couldn’t help but try to convince her to stay. She had been the one constant in my life and those words were the only thing I could say with utter certainty.
I could still feel her bony shoulders pressing into my chest and hear her sniffle as she told me goodbye for the hundredth time since my dad announced our move. Her fingertips gripped my back and for the first and only time, I kissed the girl I’d been in love with since I was five years old. It was just the top of her head, but for that brief second she had been mine.
Then she disappeared. In the four years since Charlie stopped talking to me, apparently Charlotte emerged.
I didn’t know who she was, but I was going to find out.
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A
be
– This one was particularly brutal, wasn’t it? But you stuck with me, like you always do. And you pulled me from the creative abyss so many times, reminding me to take care of myself, and remember my life outside the writing cave. Your support means more to me than I can describe. I love you so.
K
ristin
– You knew
how important this book was to me and even in the madness of your own life, gave it so much of your time and attention. As always, you saw through my first draft attempts and asked all the right questions to get me to the heart of the real story. I’ve said it before and I’ll probably never stop saying it, you’re so much of the reason I’ve made it this far. Thank you for everything.
R
achel Higginson
– The past six months have been such a huge time of “What am I trying to do here?” introspection for me, and you’ve been there for every random question, every gut check, every “please talk me off the ledge” moment. I made some big decisions about what I want from this career and your mentorship was invaluable. There aren’t enough thank yous in the universe to tell you what it means to me.
R
egan
– You are truly
the yin to my yang, my friend. I don’t know how many brainstorming sessions we had over the time I was writing this book, but you saved me from my own mind more times than I can count. I love every part of your whirling dervish personality.
T
he Rebel Writers
– This was a crazy time for so many of us. So much happened from the time I published Spells until now. One thing stood out to me amongst it all - even when the words were hard to find, and there was no time, and it all seemed to be going to hell, we were all there. We did it together. Let’s not stop doing that.
M
y street teams
(both the Rebels and the Storm Troopers)
– So much happens behind the scenes. You let me bounce ideas, you celebrate my wins and you share my dreams with your friends and the world at large. You give me a place where I know I am talking to passionate readers, intelligent women and kind souls. Thank you for all of your efforts and know that I deeply appreciate each of you.
Y
OU
.
Books are an investment, both in time and dollars. The fact that you found my work valuable enough to invest both simply blows me away. I couldn’t pursue this dream without you and every message you send me or review you leave only fuels my passion for this craft and this life. The words “thank you” will never be enough.
A
nd
, no acknowledgement would be complete without a massive, humungous, asteroid-sized THANK YOU to every blogger, vlogger, and/or instagrammer out there who has talked about this series. Your passion for books is contagious and without it, authors of all kinds would suffer. Each post, tweet, comment, like or share is an affirmation that I did my job and my story touched you somehow. I couldn’t do this without you.
Stormy Smith calls Iowa’s capital home now, but was raised in a tiny town in the Southeast corner of the state. She grew to love books honestly, having a mom that read voraciously and instilled that same love in her. She knew quickly that stories of fantasy were her favorite, and even as an adult gravitates toward paranormal stories in any form.
Writing a book had never been an aspiration, but suddenly the story was there and couldn’t be stopped. When she isn’t working on, or thinking about, her books, Stormy’s favorite places include bar patios, live music shows, her yoga mat or anywhere she can relax with her husband or girlfriends.
Bound by Duty (Book one in the Bound series)
Bound by Spells (Book two in the Bound series)
Bound Together (Book three and a half in the Bound series)
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