by Nicole Giles
Nichole Giles, the author of DESCENDANT, BIRTHRIGHT, and WATER SO DEEP, has lived in Nevada, Arizona, Utah, and Texas. She is a huge fan of all things paranormal and magical. Her dreams include owning a garden full of fairies, riding a unicorn, and taming the pet dragon she adopted at a recent local ComiCon. His name is Zane. She also loves to spend time with her husband and four children, travel to tropical and exotic destinations, drive in the rain with the convertible top down, and play music at full volume so she can sing along.
Only the strongest will survive…
Abby and Kye have lost everything but each other. They’re on the run and Abby’s wound from the Arawn Dagger is draining her power—which is also her life force—leaving her unable to access her Light or her Healing ability.
As Kye and Abby fled Mexico, her mother slipped her information that led her to believe her “dead” father might still be alive. While the hunt for him takes them back through Abby’s childhood homes, they’re forced to question everything they’ve been taught and everyone they’ve ever trusted.
Including each other.
When Abby’s best friend is kidnapped by demons, Abby and Kye launch a rescue attempt that morphs into a battle. Abby needs to prove she has what it takes to rid the world of demons, or the royal bloodline and the Gifted generation will be obliterated once and for all.
And now for the Cover!!!!
Once we’re checked in, I follow Kye to the elevator and down the hall to our room, dragging my suitcase behind me. He opens the door and waves me ahead of him. Dropping my bags on the floor, I stumble to the bed and fall backward onto it to stare at the ceiling. Kye’s face appears above mine. “You okay?”
I nod. “Exhausted. But I’ll live.”
His smile eases some of the tension between us. “I hope so. If you didn’t, I couldn’t.” He sits next to me and runs his fingers down my jaw, across my cheek. “I thought it would be good to have some time alone. We should talk before we get to Kiersten’s.”
We’ve been alone since we left. My stomach twists with anxiety, and I can’t prevent the catch in my voice. “More confessions?”
His fingers keep moving, tracing my collar bone and shoulder. “No. But I think we need to at least try to make a plan, figure out where we’re going—what comes next. Sleeping arrangements.” He glances meaningfully at the pillows. “Didn’t occur to me until now that maybe I should ask for a double. We’ve been sharing for long enough that I just assumed.”
I close my eyes, too exhausted, too confused to seriously think about anything right now. And the truth is that more than anything else, I need to be held. Our lives have been turned upside down and inside out. We’ve left behind everything and everyone we’ve ever loved except each other—and we have no idea when we’ll see any of them again—if ever. He’s all I have, and I’m all he has. Regardless of past hurts and mistakes and issues, we’re going to have to learn how to let go and depend on each other, regardless of whether we want to be together the way I once thought we would.
We’re going to have to figure out how to trust each other again.
My lack of response has him sighing as he stands. “I’m going to take a shower. Do you need to get in the bathroom first?”
“No, go ahead.” I don’t move except to turn my head and watch him go. Everything about him screams misery—frustration. I know the cure for his frustration could probably come from me. But I don’t know how to give it to him. Not in my current state of mind.
When he comes out twenty minutes later with wet hair, wearing his flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, I’m still lying in the same spot. He pauses next to me, a bemused expression lighting his eyes. “It’s all yours. If you want it.”
Sighing wearily, I stand, expecting him to move, but he doesn’t, and his position leaves us close. “Abby,” he murmurs. “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking. Please.”
I shake my head, not because I don’t want to talk to him—I know, know, I need to. But I’m exhausted, and overwhelmed, and my brain is so full, I don’t even know where to start. His palm cups my cheek, and I lean into it, eyes closed. His relief is nearly palpable as we stand there, close enough to touch, and yet miles apart, because the contact of his skin on mine—even palm to cheek—still makes me quiver, heats my blood. And Kye feels it.
Eventually, I cover his hand with mine and hold onto it as I step around him, keeping our fingers connected until I step into the already steamy bathroom and close the door.