From Wild Rose Press
Monsters are real, and they stand before me pretending to be human...
Caught in a world of vampires, dark desires and addiction, Angela Cross has walked on the edge of the surreal and found herself in a struggle for her own heart. Drawn to two dangerous men, Angela must make the choice between a life with vampires or a life against them. Will she succumb to the immortal's desire...or will she become the hunter?
“Please John, be home. I need you to be home,” I whispered through my tears.
The door swung open as my fist collided with it one last time, and John stood in front of me. His face was shadowed from the light behind him but I could see the surprise in his widened eyes before he caught me to his chest and pulled me into the house.
I didn’t fight his embrace, but melted into it. He was the strength that I needed, and I could feel his hands as they ran down my back give me strength. His soft whispers that everything would be okay sounded like the truth, even though I knew they could be nothing more than lies.
“I killed him,” I told his chest, and I wasn’t sure if he heard me because he continued to whisper and stroke my back. I heard the door close behind us and was sure that he had maneuvered me enough to get me fully inside the house.
The tears that had consumed me only a moment before faded, and I drew in the scent of his white dress shirt. From my vantage point, I could tell that he was still dressed as he had been at the cemetery, except for the shoes and jacket. I shuddered at how quickly the world changed and whispered again, “I killed him, John.”
He rocked me softly; the heat radiated from his body and warmed my cold hands. “I know, Angela. I heard you.”
I loved that I didn’t have to tell him who, or that he didn’t push me away. I loved that he accepted me, even when I had someone’s blood on my hands. He didn’t ask what happened but simply stood there holding me as I closed my eyes and let all the emotions I had held in check come out in a tidal wave. The tears I had thought were gone came back in a rush, and I cried. The entire time, he did nothing more than stroke my long hair and whisper that it was going to be all right. I believed him.”
“No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings.”