Luckless Eila is unknowingly the last of her kind: Rare. Gifted. Breakable. Stunning Raef is her kind’s historic enemy: Soulless. Lethal. Lost. A legendary death 160 years before would set their lives to collide, forcing a beautiful killer to become a savior, a simple wallflower to become a warrior, and ruthless destiny to become a death sentence.SUMMARY:
High school senior Eila Walker knows that good luck skips over her like an Easter Bunny on Speed. So when she inherits her grandmother’s million-dollar Cape Cod home, she is downright shocked. And yeah, her new town isn’t perfect: the cheerleaders are heinous clones, the local undertow can kill ya, and her Great Grams was supposedly fried by lightning in the harbor square. Still, Eila is hopeful her luckless days are in the past . . . until history decides to repeat itself.A self-proclaimed loner and previous-social reject, Eila thinks she’s hit the jackpot when drool-worthy Raef O’Reilly becomes her friendly, yet weirdly protective shadow. But being hauled beneath the waves by an unnatural undertow slams the brakes on bliss – especially when Raef storms to her aid with coal-black eyes and iron-like strength.
Eila, entirely freaked, demands an explanation and Raef comes clean, revealing that neither of them are average humans but rather the genetic remnants of an angelic pissing-match gone wrong. Eila supposedly can channel the power of human souls, while Raef is quite adept at stealing them. Even worse, the legend about her ancestor isn’t such a myth, since Eila’s grandmother was one kick-ass warrior until her lightning-like power backfired. A power that is written all over Eila’s DNA.
Now sought by Raef’s own family for her destructive ability, Eila must trust him to watch her back. But when a quest for information goes terribly wrong, Eila is suddenly left with only two options: become a weapon for the enemy or follow in her Gram’s fearless footsteps to save those she loves. Unfortunately she needs a willing enemy to ignite her suicidal energy and the only one she trusts has been guarding her butt and scorching her lips.
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About the Author
I have been a journalist for 15 years and serve on the Board of Directors for the Cape Cod Writers Center. I also drive a 16-ton school bus because I am ENTIRELY NUTS.In addition to working jobs that should come with a warning label , I hold a BA in Psychos (Forensic Psych), torment the tourists about Jaws, and occasionally jump from the Town Neck bridge in an attempt to reclaim my youth.
I live on Cape Cod with two smallish humans who apparently are my kids, my fishing-obsessed husband, two canines (adept at both flatulence and snoring), and a cage-defiant lovebird that sleeps in a miniature tent. Nope – that’s not a type-o. The bird is quite the indoor camper.
Raef’s POV
Standing in front of a long mirror in a pair of pinstriped PJs and a cropped t-shirt was Eila, methodically dragging a comb though her wet hair, separating her mane into rail-straight lines. She concentrated on her reflection, making sure not to miss a single ribbon of hair.
As I watched her, I was hit with a desperate desire to touch her and feel her coffee black hair stream through my fingers, leaving a damp, cold trail in its wake. I wanted to run my hand down the side of her neck, tracing the edge of her collarbone that rolled so perfectly under her delicate skin.
When she had been injured, I had come in and out of this room with things she needed, or simply sat and kept her company when Mae allowed. Back then I was filled with a brutal longing to see her well and on her feet again. Now, however, I was hit with a different kind of longing entirely.
She glanced over at me, and I noticed the t-shirt stuck to her shoulder because of a wet blotch from her hair. I envied the blotch . . . and the fabric.
“Are you planning on standing in the doorway like a stalker, or are ya coming in?” she asked, finally snapping me out of my trance. I moved into the room, my eyes drifting over Eila’s space as she began braiding her hair.
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