16+
Tilly is a witch…at least, she thinks she is. All she really knows is that she has powers she shouldn’t, and that the cruel women she escaped from – who definitely are witches – will stop at nothing to make her their prisoner again because of those powers.
Published: March 19th, 2015
Tilly is a witch…at least, she thinks she is. All she really knows is that she has powers she shouldn’t, and that the cruel women she escaped from – who definitely are witches – will stop at nothing to make her their prisoner again because of those powers.
But Tilly has fallen in with a strange group – a pack of werewolves. The pack wants to protect her; none of them more so than Dominic, the alpha’s kind-hearted son. Tilly thinks she might be falling for him, but she can’t help being fascinated by his brooding, mysterious half-brother Spencer.
Caught between the two, Tilly isn’t sure anymore what she’s most scared of: the witches hunting her down, or her own heart betraying her.
EXCERPT
Shame and guilt warred with anger inside me. After how he’d
treated me earlier, I should have hated Spencer. I didn’t. When I saw him
sitting by the stream, I should have wanted to go over and scream in his face.
I didn’t. Seeing him there, curled up with his head in his hands, clutching his
hair like he was in pain, I just couldn’t hold on to my fury and hurt. I’d never
seen him so discomposed, so rattled. It shook me, and I wondered what had him
so upset. Was it me? Was this because of me? Or was it egotistical – maybe even
stupid – of me to think that? To hope for it?
Abruptly he
started pulling off his shoes and threw them carelessly, one landing in the
stream.
He knew I was
there.
He was waiting
for me to make a choice.
I could walk
over there, or I could turn and leave.
I started to
turn, my feet muffled on the dirt and moss, and then I paused, thinking of the
way he’d been clutching his hair, growling, muttering to himself. I hesitated,
uncertain. Words fought in my head: You understand me, Tilly…I said I love
you…I don’t say things I don’t mean…I lied. I lied. He lied. He’d lied to me.
But I was starting to wonder, watching him now, which time he’d really lied. I
needed to know. I stepped out of the trees. Spencer didn’t turn, though I noticed his head tilted ever so slightly in my direction, listening. For a moment, I just stood and stared at his back, the tight set of his shoulders, the curled weights of his fists at his sides. And then he spoke.
“What are you
doing out here?” he asked, his voice flat. I recalled he’d asked the same thing
in the exact same tone the first night I’d found him by the stream, chucking
pebbles into the water. It felt like an eternity ago, though I knew it had only
been a few weeks. Hell, yesterday felt like an eternity ago. Everything in my
head was blurred, confused, jumbled. I rubbed my forehead, trying to focus, but
all I could think of was Spencer’s eyes when he promised on the night of the
full moon, after the attack, that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me for any
reason. He’d said so many things like that, been my saviour so many times.
GoodReads ** Amazon ** Barnes&Noble
About the author:
H.G. Lynch is a Paranormal Romance author from Scotland. She is an avid reader, and cat-lover. She spends most of her days writing, while wrestling her cat off her laptop. She loves horse-riding, Star Trek, and snow.
Her books are dark paranormal romances.
Author's Giveaway
a Rafflecopter giveaway
No comments:
Post a Comment