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Havenwood Falls High Novella: Awaken The Soul



Description ajoutée par feedesneige 2017-12-10T23:33:54+01:00

Résumé

Breckin Roberts has known Vivienne his entire life. Born and raised in Havenwood Falls, they attend the same school, eat at the same restaurants, and enjoy the same festivals. But they aren’t friends. They’re merely two classmates—her human and him not so much. Until one fateful December afternoon.

When Vivienne Freeman awakens late that night, disheveled and disoriented, the last thing she remembers is going for a run, but something feels . . . off. It’s not until the gorgeous but ever elusive Breckin Roberts approaches her out of the blue that she learns she almost died. And he’s the one who saved her.

Or so he thought.

Turns out, saving Vivienne has opened her to a whole new kind of danger. Breckin is an angel who interfered with Death. It’s a slight easily forgiven, if not for the connection he awakens while healing her. A connection one Reaper finds highly appealing. A connection that could turn Vivienne into a pawn in the battle of Good versus Evil—a battle about to descend on Havenwood Falls.

This is a Young Adult paranormal romance in the Havenwood Falls High series of Young Adult fantasy stories featuring a variety of supernatural creatures. The series is a collaborative effort by multiple authors. Each book is generally a stand-alone, so you can read them in any order, although some authors will be writing sequels to their own stories. Please be aware when you choose your next read.

Other books in the Havenwood Falls High YA series:

Written in the Stars by Kallie Ross

Reawakened by Morgan Wylie

The Fall by Kristen Yard

Somewhere Within by Amy Hale

Bound by Shadows by Cameo Renae (Jan. 2018)

Books are released on a monthly basis. Coming soon are stories by Randi Cooley Wilson, E.J. Fechenda, AnnaLisa Grant, J.L. Weil, and more.

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HOLD ON FOR YOUR LIFE

BRECKIN

White.

Everywhere I look. Pure, undiluted, untouched.

Colorado in December.

Banking left, the tip of my wing disturbs a snow-laden pine bough, scattering ice crystals. The mountain forest is peaceful this late in the afternoon, though the threat of a storm lurks in the gray sky. A gust rolls in from the north, and I snap my wings, letting the airstream guide my path toward home.

How long will this peace last? This morning’s message from Elias served as an eerie reminder of my time limit. Four months. Tucking my wings, I shift, free-falling toward the ground, dodging trees as I dart in and around the woods. Freedom. I arch skyward, shooting high above Mount Alexa. The ground, the falls, the trees—they are blemishes on a snowy white canvas.

A scream penetrates the peace. I twist, levitating among the clouds, my gaze narrowing on the ground far below.

The crimson trail, smeared for yards before the dense forest covers the evidence, is hard to miss.

Blood. Thick, human blood.

This is Havenwood Falls—it’s not an abnormal occurrence in the forest. But . . .

I dive, lured by a scent that burns my nostrils and confuses my senses.

I’m on the ground within moments of her scream. Her keening death cries prick at my skin, sending an unfamiliar sensation skittering up my spine and across my wings. Angry snarls join her moans. I should leave, yet I press on—following the blood trail. The creature drags her instead of making a clean kill. Most shifters kill, rather than play with, their food. I maintain distance, preferring to remain in the good graces of the other supernatural beings within Havenwood Falls. Angel or not, minding my business keeps the peace. History has proven this. The world is a better place when all creatures, good and evil, play nice together. That type of thinking will be my downfall in four months, if I’m not careful.

An unnatural calm claims the still woods, and my senses sharpen. I move forward as an ache builds up in my chest. Her cries diminish, but her scent strengthens. It’s familiar. The spicy combination of ginger root and mint. I duck beneath low branches and break through thicker brush, my steps quickening as I track them. Another growl disturbs the woods, and I pause. Twenty feet ahead, a shadow of fur and menace crosses my path—retreating. The feeling in my chest intensifies like a fist crushing my heart.

Ginger, mint, and something—more. They inundate me as I maneuver around a thick tree and come to a stop.

She is bathed in blood. Her long golden hair spreads around her head, a silken halo on a snowy pillow of white. From my vantage point, I cannot see her face, but her scent—her perfume—gives her away.

Vivienne Freeman.

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