Sing For Me is a paranormal romance novel set within an opera house. The main character, Madeline, is the supporting soprano for the Eden theater company’s production of The Magic Flute. She also happens to be a specific breed of angel called a Choir, which, in the mythology of Sing For Me, means she is a creature created specifically for music and the entertainment of the angelic realm.
Published: January 23rd, 2015
Madeline Noel fled war-torn Heaven to hide within the mortal world, but the blessing that could protect her from evil is the holy realm’s forbidden power.
As a talented soprano for the Eden Theatre Company, Madeline hides among prima donnas and tone-deaf flutists. Her perfect voice may entertain audiences, but a careless laugh may shatter glass, and her greatest scream can kill. To control her unrestrained voice, the angels forbid Madeline from embracing the emotions that strengthen her song. Anger. Fear.
Love.
The demon-hunter Damascus vows to defend Madeline from Hell’s relentless evil, but he cannot protect her from her own feelings. Though they deny their dangerous attraction, her guardian becomes her greatest temptation.
Surrendering to desire may awaken the gift suppressed within Madeline’s soul, and neither Heaven nor Hell will allow such absolute power to exist.
EXCERPT
She flicked the
light to her bedroom and dropped her towel in the hamper.
“Magdala.”
Her hand merely
muffled the screeched yelp. Madeline fell backward, smacking against the
closet. She tripped and clattered into the hamper. Damascus apologized, but her
gasp shattered the perfume container on her vanity.
Madeline yanked
the towel from the laundry. The wet scrap of material wove over her body, and
she clutched the fraying edges.
Damascus’s
silence stole any sound she might have uttered.
His muscles
bound, tight and tensed, more prepared for war than the glimpse of her bared
skin. The gold in his eyes burned molten. Madeline shifted, her bare toes
gripping the carpet to prevent her from toppling over once more.
She shivered. It
wasn’t the wet hair that whispered the goose bumps along her spine. Damascus
saw far more than the thin strip of cloth hid. His gaze warmed her curves and
tickled the swell of her breasts. Her nipples hardened. She prayed he hadn’t
noticed.
He did.
The memory of
the soap in the shower tortured the twisting in her lower belly. For a single,
blissful, blasphemous moment, she imagined it had been Damascus’s hand washing
her.
She exhaled.
Damascus
growled.
His every
movement strengthened with need. The wild, uninhibited, dangerous desire would
claim them both. Madeline clamored backward, the apology shrill and muffled by
her hand.
She hadn’t
needed to speak, drop the towel, or offer any secrets. The heat smoldering low
escaped in a sigh. The soft puff promised more than she intended. She breathed
an invitation.
A seduction.
And he answered.
Damascus
shuddered. He blinked, hard, and rubbed his head.
“I apologize.”
Damascus forced his words. “I… I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”
Madeline tugged
the towel lower over her thighs. “You didn’t know.”
“I should let
you—”
“Don’t worry
about it. Here.” She hobbled toward the
robe lying over her bed.
“Let me—”
“I’ve got it.”
Damascus’s
motions stiffened. He retrieved the robe as Madeline lunged for the fuzzy pink
arm. Her toes banged against the bedpost, and the surge of pain toppled her
into Damascus’s waiting arms.
He smelled of
the Realm, of warmth and radiance, citrus and holy incense.
Fire.
The towel
shifted, and his fingers brushed over her bare back. His calloused hands
heated, as if he wielded his sword. The heat lashed her—a punishment seared
within a delicious reward. The towel tumbled, and she pushed against him to
hide what nearly exposed.
His embrace was
everything as she imagined, the heat, the intensity of his grip, the fluttering
within her stomach and her body upon his. His hands bound a supreme authority
over her. He pressed her skin with possessive fingertips. He handled her as if
she were delicate and precious.
The shock of it
all drove her to silence.
He protected
her, but he never held her.
Watched over
her, but never touched her.
Saved her from
demons, but never reassured her.
He never mourned
with her when a Choir was killed.
Every moment
hidden far from the Realm passed in painful isolation, and he was the lone
simple comfort of home. The sweet, dangerous touch protected her more than his
sword or his distant promises. The heat settled the dissonance capturing her
mind.
The Realm forbid
their touch. A hug cried sacrilege.
Madeline closed
her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder.
*******
Singing while
Veiled was a travesty. Her words might have mumbled, her vocal cords strained,
and the warmth of her pitch muffled without the range and complexities she
studied in the Realm.
She searched the
bar and found him.
Damascus always
listened—within the Realm or within a tiny bar with a tinny karaoke machine
sputtering a melody.
And, for him,
she’d sing forever.
The song blended
between their voices, though Madeline’s warm harmony unintentionally
overpowered Danielle’s tired lead. Usually, she wove caution within her notes.
Prevented the beauty from striking each beat and bursting within the measures.
Usually.
Her gaze strayed
to the table. To him.
The blessing of
chastity corrupted with a glance to the one listening so intently. The Realm
created the Choirs to entertain all, and yet, Madeline meticulously sang each
note for one being only. All her songs echoed only for him.
His attention
forged a fire that sliced her body and razed every bit of her defenses in
consecrated, dangerous heat. No alcohol was that intoxicating or that sensual.
She hummed over
the notes, layering each word in sultry meter. An unintentional seduction
molded from the very thoughts she fought to hide. The emotion trapped within
her voice. Swelled. The feminine growl in her melody suppressed with her
weakening resolve.
He’d hear her
longing, and she wanted him to understand it.
The bar shifted
and sighed. Hands brushed arms. Whispers passed in the shadows. Giggles yielded
to hushed promises. Her song led them all. The power of her voice broke the
inhibitions of even the sober cast and crew members. In the corner, a couple
kissed despite the wedding rings on their fingers. A chorus girl hopped onto
the bar while another woman embraced her.
A cool shudder
teased her flesh with the prickle of forbidden goose bumps. Her voice wavered,
but not from weakness. The secret delight caressed the music from her lips and
presented the song to him like a soft kiss. The shadows of the room concealed
what she could not. The heat touched her brow, and she flushed a damning pink.
It was time to
stop. Before everyone in the pub abandoned modesty and gave into the one
passion she created in them but never experienced for herself.
The music
resonated within her, but she couldn’t steal her gaze from Damascus. Every
moment only teased her with the promise of his song, the cadence of his breath,
and the drumming of his need.
The song
crescendoed.
Her body ached
to feel the same.
But the music
crackled and sizzled into silence. Madeline’s music lost in a shuddering gasp.
The song
affected more than the mortals edging close to one and other, holding hands.
Leaning into the shadows. Whispering. Touching.
Damascus’s steps
thudded the very earth beneath his feet.
The heat flared from his body. Or maybe her own. Music had never dizzied
her so much.
He moved, drawn
by the promise of the melody. A thrill cascaded through her, sobering and
affirming all at once.
The warrior
submitted to the maiden.
About the author:Gracie Madison would spend every day, all day writing…if it were socially acceptable. Ever since she was a little girl scribbling with a crayon, Gracie’s dedicated herself to her books and all the supernatural and paranormal, creepy and beautiful stories and characters born within the pages. Now Gracie is committed to finally sharing those books with the world. When the laptop is pried from her hands, Gracie is probably working her day job, rooting on the Steelers, or out with her husband searching for Pittsburgh’s best sushi.
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