Confessions of an Alli Cat (26 page)

My sleepy eyes do another quick sweep, and this time I notice the balcony doors standing wide open while the bright morning sun streams onto the mahogany floor and the white sheer curtains on either side flutter in the sea breeze. 

This is the difference and it slams into me like a concrete wall.  I didn’t fall asleep with those doors open. I would never do that now, not since I know what dangers lurk in the world, the darkness that can find me.

Immediately after I notice this inconsistency, I also see that across the room, my bedroom door is tightly closed and the bolt is still slid firmly in place.

Just as I left it last night.

My heart stutters as I realize what this means. 

While I slept, Luca must have climbed from my balcony ledge to escape.  But the drop is well over thirty feet and there are sharp rocks at the base of the house.  There are gardens directly behind, but beyond that, there is a cliff with a hundred foot drop to the sea below.  

I leap naked from bed and rush to the balcony’s edge.  My bare breasts press against the cold railing as I peer down at both the gardens and what I can see of the pristine sand beyond that.  Luca is not lying broken and bleeding there, so I try to still my racing heart.  I search the beaches and craggy landscape on both sides of my periphery and I still do not see him.

He somehow survived the fall.

A hundred different things run through my mind, but the one that stands out in the forefront is the image, the possibility, that he managed to drag himself, broken and bleeding, to a different location, somewhere where he is even now waiting for me to help him. 

Because I promised. 

I promised him that I would help him, that I would keep him from the darkness that plagues him, that I would heal him. 

That I would save him.

I swallow hard and as I do, I realize that my throat is tender from Luca’s hands last night. I know that if I look into a mirror, there will be a bruise in the perfect formation of his long fingers around my neck. 

As I softly touch it, I remember his face from the night before.  It was shadowed in the moonlight and like always, he was beautiful.  Luca is handsome in a very classic and beautiful way, dark hair and cut cheekbones.  His bangs are long and almost hide his magnificent dark eyes until he shakes his hair away.  And when he does, the sadness that dwells there is apparent to anyone who knows him.

But last night, I didn’t need to look into his eyes to see that his darkness had returned.  I knew it from the moment he stepped into my room.

I can always see it.  It changes everything about him, even the way he walks and moves.  The way he stands.  The way he speaks.  The way he feels. 

He is an entirely different person when the darkness comes. 

These are the moments that he dreads with every breath when he is himself; the moments when he is no longer Luca.  In these moments, he is filled with thoughts that are no longer his own. 

He cannot help it, he cannot control it, he cannot stop it.

But I promised him that I would.

And I have failed him.

I scramble to my wardrobe and pull on clothing, choosing a shirt with a collar, hoping to somewhat hide the bruise on my neck.  The only other people here at Chessarae are servants, except for Luca’s mother in her lonely wing.  But she is locked in so she never comes into the main part of the house.  No one will see me but the staff.  And they are used to seeing strange things.

I rush through the house, through the extravagant corridors and over the marble floors, the rich and polished surroundings that I would never have dreamed I would find myself in.  I don’t notice it now though.  It has faded into an insignificant corner of my mind.  All that matters now is Luca.

I make my way out the back of the house, through the gardens, through the English maze that is perfectly manicured and challenging to maneuver.  I manage it with ease, however.  I memorized its twists and turns on a happier day.

The weather is stormy today and the normally cheerful and bright Maltese sky is gray and thunderous. I can feel the electricity in the air, snapping the ends of my long hair with static.  This day looks as foreboding as I feel, which I hope is not a sign.

I search through the maze.  I search the beaches as my feet sink into the cool sand.  I search the gardens with their exotic and sweet-smelling blooms and then I search the garage.  His car, a shiny black Jaguar, is still in its slot and its hood is cool to the touch.  Luca has not driven it today.  I search the front lawns and the back.  And just when I begin to panic, to fear that he has not returned to Chessarae after all, I search the stables.

As I walk through the heavy wooden doors, the smells of the horses and the hay and the saddle-soap and leather assail my nose and I breathe them in.  I’ve always loved this place.  It is peaceful here.  And I suddenly know, because I can feel it, that Luca is here. 

I walk quietly down the main corridor, staring into each stall as I pass.

And finally, finally, when I come to the very last stall on the left, Luca is there and my breath hitches in my chest, freezing on my lips.

Luca is slumped on the ground, in the corner, his expression desolate. He is beautiful even here, even in this condition, and I cannot help but stare down at him as tears fill my eyes.   

He is dirty and his clothing is torn.  There are smears of blood on his shirt, dried now to a rusty dark brown.  I swallow hard, trying not to imagine where the blood has come from. 

Luca’s face is tortured as he stares up at me, his head in his hands.  There is blood on his fingers. 

“It happened again.”

His words are low and husky and rough, yet elegant at the same time.  He is always refined, always perfect, always Luca. 

His self-loathe is apparent and it breaks my heart. 

I nod mutely because there are no words for this moment.  I bend to help him to his feet.  At 6’3”, he towers above me.  He is slender and strong and masculine.  He is lithe and powerful, beautiful and graceful.

And sometimes, on his very darkest days, he is a depraved killer.

But I have gotten ahead of myself.  I should begin at the beginning.  If I don’t, you will never understand. 

* * *

To purchase Of Blood and Bone, you can find it on Amazon
 here
 or Barnes and Noble.com
here
.

*********

If you’re in the mood for something else awesome, check this out from my New York Times best-selling friend, M. Leighton:

You’re about to read an excerpt of Down to You, a contemporary romance.  My books can be purchased at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and in the iStore.  Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it!  Also, I’d like to give a  special thanks to Courtney Cole for inviting me and my book to the party.  I’m forever in your debt, my friend. 

Down to You

One girl.  Two brothers.  The love triangle…that’s not. 

Olivia Townsend is nothing special.  She’s just a girl working her way through college so she can return home to help her father run his business.  She’s determined not to be the second woman in his life to abandon him, even if it means putting her own life on hold. To Olivia, it’s clear what she must do. Plain and simple.  Black and white.

But clear becomes complicated when she meets Cash and Nash Davenport.  They’re brothers.  Twins.

Cash is everything she’s always
loved
in a guy.  He’s a dangerous, sexy bad boy who turns her insides to mush and, with just one kiss, makes her forget why he’s no good for her.

Nash is everything she’s ever
wanted
in a guy.  He’s successful, responsible and intensely passionate.  But he’s taken.  Very taken, by none other than Marissa, Liv’s rich, beautiful cousin.  That doesn’t stop Olivia from melting every time he looks at her, though.  With just one touch, he makes her forget why they can never be together.

Both brothers set her heart on fire.  Both brothers are off limits.

Black and white turns to shades of gray, however, when Olivia discovers the boys are hiding something, something that should make her run as far and as fast as she can.  But it’s too late to run.  Olivia’s already involved.  And in love. 

With both of them. 

And now they both want her.

CHAPTER ONE- Olivia

My head is spinning lightly, but happily.  I can’t even remember the name of the drink Shawna keeps ordering for us.  I just know they’re delicious.  And potent as hell!  Wow!

“When’s the stripper coming?  I’m ready to get my freak on!” Ginger shouts.  She’s the crazy, outspoken, cougar-of-a-bartender we work with at Tad’s Sports Bar and Grill in Salt Springs, Georgia.  She’s wild enough in her natural environment, but stick her in a strange new place in city like Atlanta and she morphs into a full blown tiger.  Rawr!

She looks at me and grins. Her bottle-blond hair looks urine yellow in the low light and her pale blue eyes are twinkling devilishly. 

I’m instantly suspicious.

“What?” I ask dazedly. 

“I talked to the manager ahead of time.  He’s gonna make sure Shawna has to help the stripper get out of those pesky clothes he’ll be wearing.”  She giggles maniacally.  I can’t help but laugh. She’s a mess.

“Ryan would kill her if she stripped another man’s clothes off, bachelorette party or not!”

“He’ll never know.  What stays in the VIP room happens in the VIP room,” she slurs.

“Don’t you mean what
happens
in the VIP room
stays
in the VIP room?”

“That’s what I said.”

I snicker. “Oh, okay.”  I giggle as I watch her take another sip of her neurotoxic drink.  I opt for my water instead.  Somebody has to remain semi-lucid.  Might as well be me.  Tonight is all about Shawna anyway.  I want to send her off into married life with the best party possible.  I doubt that includes her having to carry me home or clean vomit off her shoes.

A knock at the door to the private room has us all turning our heads in that direction.  The girls immediately start laughing and hollering and cat-calling.

Dear God, I hope it’s the stripper and not a cop or something!

The door opens and in walks the most incredibly handsome guy I think I’ve ever seen.  He looks like he’s in his early twenties, really tall, and built like a football player—wide chest and shoulders, thick arms and legs, tiny waist in between.  He’s dressed in solid black from head to toe.  But it’s his face that’s most impressive. 

Sweet hell, he’s effin’ gorgeous!

His short hair is dark blond and his face is chiseled perfection. I can’t tell what color his eyes are as he scans the room, but I can see that they’re dark.  He’s just opened his mouth to speak when his eyes finally make their way to me.  They click to a stop on mine and he stares.   

I’m completely mesmerized.  As I look into them, I still can’t determine a color, but the orbs look nearly black.  Even in the light spilling through the door behind him, they look like pools of ink.  Just barely, he tilts his head to one side as he watches me.

It makes me nervous. And excited.  I don’t know why. I have no reason to be, but he makes me feel twitchy. Squirmy.  Warm.

We’re still staring at each other when Ginger gets up and drags him further into the room, flinging the door shut behind him.

“All right, Shawna.  Come kick your single life to the curb the right way!”

The other girls start squealing and cheering her on.  Shawna’s smiling, but shaking her head.  “No way! Not this girl!”  The bridesmaids-to-be get more insistent, two of them coming around to take her by the hands and haul her to her feet. 

She leans back, away from them, shaking her head more vigorously.  “No, no, no.  I don’t want to. One of y’all do it.” 

She starts wiggling her arms to free herself, but the girls have a death grip on her thin wrists.  When she looks at me, her wide brown eyes tell me all I need to know.  She’s totally freaked by the idea. 

“Liv, help!”  I raise my hands in a gesture that says
what do you want me to do?
She nods toward the hunk hulking behind Ginger.  “You do it!”

“Are you crazy?  I’m not stripping a stripper!”

“Please!  You know I’d do it for you.”

And she would.  Dammit.

How the hell does the world’s clumsiest shy girl get wrangled into doing things like this?

As I so often do, I answer myself.

Because she’s a pushover!

Taking a deep breath, I stand and turn toward the Hot Hulk, purposely jacking my chin up another notch.  He’s still watching me with those smoky coal eyes. 

When I take a step toward him, he very slowly raises one eyebrow.  

Heat washes through me.

Must be those dangerous drinks,
I think
.  It has to be. 

I feel flushed and a little breathless, but I take another step anyway. 

Hot Hulk takes a step away from Ginger and turns to face me fully.  He crosses his arms over his chest and waits, that one brow still raised in curiosity.  He’s not going to make it easy.  He’s leaving it all up to me, just like Ginger asked them to do. 

As if on cue, the music that’s been pumping into the room all night gets louder.  It’s a sexy song, heavy on the bass.  It’s mood music for sure.  It seems to punctuate every intense beat of my heart as I get closer and closer to those velvety eyes.  

When I stop in front of him, I have to look up.  My five and a half feet of height is nearly a foot shorter than his towering frame. 

Up close, I see that his eyes are brown.  Dark, dark brown.  Nearly black.

Sinful.

I’m lost in wondering why that particular word would come to mind when the girls start chanting for me to take his shirt off.  Uncertainly, I glance at their excited faces then back to him.  Slowly, he spreads his arms, holding them out to his sides, away from his body.