by Eden Ashley
Publication date: November 18th 2014
Genres: Paranormal Romance, Young Adult
Sometimes great evil is necessary to keep what you love most.
After centuries on the run, Rhane can avoid justice no longer. Primes have called him home and now he must finally answer for the sins of his past. But the situation in Rhane’s homeland is far worse than anyone could have imagined, and the judgment Rhane faces is a brutal one. Even relying on the strength of the immortal Banewolf, the man he has become may not survive.
Kali and the other kin work tirelessly to secure Rhane’s freedom, but many obstacles stand in their way. Wesley offers a solution that hinges upon resuming a dangerous search for the Siren’s Heart. Trusting him, she and the kin set out once again to find the elusive artifact, believing Rhane and Warren’s freedom can be bartered in exchange for the statue. But other creatures are searching for the Heart. And with greater resources and a head start, their enemies may reach it first.
The sound of her screams reached him as he neared the dorm. Pausing at the threshold, the man stepped inside. Death and the wind were at his back. Dozens of hollow-eyed students turned to observe his presence. Fear had twisted their youthful faces into horrific masks. A few of them wept. Others clung together as another scream echoed into the night. The man flinched. Then he steeled himself against all emotion. His kind was supposed to feel nothing.
He made his way through the crowd, students eagerly shuffling aside to let him pass. It was as if somehow they sensed in him the power to end her suffering. When a young man dressed only in boxers and a lettered shirt stepped forward from a cluster of solemn dorm mates, the man stopped. He recognized the boy.
“You are William. You are the one who called.”
“Yes, sir,” the young man said while nodding. His eyes were wide and frightened as he pointed ahead to a closed door painted prison grey. “She’s in there, sir.”
The man looked at the door, and then back at the boy. “Is she alone?”
William’s shoulders slumped with embarrassment. “I tried to stay with her but…” his voice trailed, dropping to a hoarse whisper. “She looks bad, sir. She wouldn’t stop screaming for me to get out. I got scared. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, son. You have done well.” The man laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder with an encouraging smile that reflected none of the sadness he felt. “She’s going to be okay.”
But her cries were becoming more tormented by the second. He quickly continued down the hall to the grey door. Behind it, he found her all alone. Her thin, pale body was curled on a beaten sofa in the center of the room. She was drenched in sweat. Dark hair plastered against her face, framing a beautiful canvas contorted with anguish. He placed a hand gently on her forehead.
Her eyes fluttered open. “Daddy?”
“I’m here, sweetheart. Everything is fine now.”
Sobbing in relief even as another surge of agony ransacked her strength, she gritted her teeth. “It hurts.”
Squeezing her hand, he spoke in a voice thick with regret. “I know. I’m sorry. Letting you come here was a mistake. I’ve waited too long.”
She was lost in the pain and didn’t seem to hear him. “I see horrible things. I did horrible things. There was so much blood.”
It hurt him terribly to see her in such distress. No matter what the others said, this girl had truly been his daughter. But right now, his love for her could not matter. He had a job to do. There were things he needed to know. There were questions he had to ask.
“What do you see?”
“Bodies, hundreds of bodies littering the ground…” The words broke off as she rolled with another wave of misery. “They’re burned…old and young, women and children.” She sobbed again. “I think I burned them.”
“I’m going to give you something to stop the pain. It will help you sleep.”
“Please hurry, Daddy. Make it stop.” Her body shuddered. “I can’t take any more of this.”
She lifted her head, giving him a good look at her face. Surging veins had crept like black spiders from the corners of her eyes, transforming the surrounding skin into dark pools. She was deteriorating rapidly. If the process wasn’t slowed, the human form would soon be lost. He kicked himself for making such a foolish mistake, for letting emotion get in the way of duty. It could have jeopardized everything. He hurried into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later carrying a red mug filled with steaming liquid. “Can you sit up?” She nodded and struggled upright. She took the mug. “Drink all of it,” he said and helped steady her hands.
The liquid smelled awful. But after the first sip, her violent trembles began to subside. She downed the rest without hesitation, draining the mug until the last drop was gone. The grey tint that had taken over receded as the color of her skin returned to normal. The girl peered at her hands. They no longer shook.
An uncertain smile spread across her face. “It’s over.”
He shook his head. “No. We must start over,” he said sadly.
“I don’t understand.”
He stood from the couch and held out a hand. “Come with me.”
“What?” She yawned sleepily. Everything about her was like a normal teenager again. “Dad, I can’t. I have finals tomorrow.”
“Come with me,” he repeated.
She took his hand and let the empty mug fall to the couch. He led her out into the hall where everyone waited anxiously, some visibly grateful to see the young woman leave. Averting her gaze to the floor, she avoided their eyes. “Everyone’s staring,” she muttered.
“They were worried about you.” He reached back and drew the girl forward to his side, planting a kiss atop her hair. As they reached the front door, he saw her try to stifle another yawn. Even the crisp night air couldn’t shake the veil of drowsiness that would lower over her mind.
“Dad, I’m really tired.”
“You can sleep on the way.” He smiled again. To him, the reassurance felt forced and painful because on the inside, his heart was breaking. He hoped his daughter wouldn’t know it.
Wrapping her arms about him, she hugged him tightly and buried her head into his shirt like she had when she was little. On this night, he couldn’t hug her back. Afraid that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to let go. What he had to do was cruel. He wished he didn’t have to. To have so much power and still be powerless was a wretched existence.
It was daylight when she awoke. The car wasn’t moving and the girl was alone inside. She recognized nothing of the surroundings, had no idea how far her father had driven. It wasn’t unusual for him to whisk her away on a spur-of-the-moment weekend getaway to the beach. Her father’s spontaneity was one of the things she loved most about him. But this wasn’t the beach. And the girl was positive she’d mentioned to him that she had a final to take—she glanced at her watch—in three hours. Sighing, she opened the door and slid out of the car. The sound of a child’s laughter came drifting through the trees. Joined with it was another voice she easily recognized.
With growing curiosity, she started up the hill. Her feet sank into the moist carpet of undergrowth as she walked beneath trees of brightly changing foliage. Fallen heralds of orange, red, and yellow hues blanketed the ground. Not far away, on the other side of a patch of dense forest, the girl found her father. Oddly enough, he was entertaining a small child. The two of them sat in an amply filled sand box, busily constructing a castle with the aid of a small bucket and plastic shovel. The little girl’s hair was like her own, as black and shiny as a raven’s feathers. She was four years old at most.
Looking up, her father saw her. No emotion crossed his face. “Hello.”
She stopped a few yards short. “Hi.” After the mostly uphill hike, her reply was somewhat breathless.
“Hi,” the child greeted her happily. Deep brown eyes and a winning smile made her truly a rare beauty, even at such a young age.
The young woman turned to her father, her entire face a question. She waited for some sort of explanation.
His golden hair ruffled in the breeze as he nodded toward the child. “I found her for you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Where are we?”
“Please come and sit,” he said quietly.
Hesitant at first, her feet didn’t move until the little girl echoed the man’s words, “Please come and sit with us.”
She accepted the invitation and sat in the sandbox. Her legs automatically folded to mirror the child.
“Did you dream last night?”
“Good. I’d hoped the tea would help.” He took her hand. His grasp was both tender and desperate. “I promise you, this will be the last time.”
“What’s going on?” Although she trusted her father with her very life, his behavior worried her.
As they conversed, the little girl had never paused at play. “And this is the tower for the princess,” she announced proudly, while molding a lopsided chunk of sand.
Her father gazed down at the child fondly. “Why does the princess need a tower? Shouldn’t princesses be allowed to be free?”
The child paused thoughtfully. Then she shook her head, sending a mass of radiant curls bouncing in the morning sun. “No. The prince can’t find her unless she’s in a tower.”
He smiled and turned to his daughter again. “Yes…it is time for the prince to find her.”
He took the child’s hand and pressed it into his daughter’s. The young woman stared in bewilderment as a warm glow filled her inside and out. Then, as if someone had flicked a switch, everything went dark. She slumped forward. The man caught her lifeless body, easing it down gently onto the sand. Then he leaned over and kissed the child’s forehead softly. “I will always be close.” Not moving, the child sat wide-eyed, staring blankly at nothing.
Hoisting the body of the young woman into his arms, he quietly strode away with tears streaming down his face. The trees hid him from view as the little girl blinked twice and resumed building the tower in the sandbox.
I'm Eden Ashley and I was born and raised in a small, sunny town in South Carolina. However, it's the thunderstorms that inspire my best ideas. There are few things I love more than curling up with a good book and a cup of coffee on a rainy day, (except maybe chocolate cake. I love cake.) often reading into the wee hours of morning when something really grabs me. I pretty much love anything with supernatural elements, so writing paranormal romance and fantasy romance seems to be a natural fit.
My first novel, Dark Siren, is best described as paranormal romance artfully wrapped within a plot chock-full of action, adventure, and edge-of-your-seat suspense, while the series has evolved to become a journey of redemption and second chances as two characters understand that sometimes committing evil is necessary to protect what is loved most. I took the siren from Greek mythology (and borrowed a little from mermaid lore), creating an entirely different creature, with its own mythology, and one that Publisher's Weekly praised for its passion and complexity. This is not just another werewolf/shapeshifter romance or vampire romance. I think this is a story that both adults and teens can enjoy, full of characters to fall in love with!
I love getting feedback! For the latest news on upcoming sequels and other novels, find me on my website: http://edenbynite.blogspot.com
Twitter: @Eden_byNite, for writing tips, publishing help, and daily updates.
Is this your first book? How many books have you written?
Blood Chained is not my first book. It’s actually the third book in a planned four-part series. Rhane and Kali’s journey begins in Dark Siren where they first find each other and try to figure the many secrets standing between them. Banewolf was released last year and continues their story. I’m extremely happy with how the second book turned out. It’s getting a lot of great reviews right now.
What inspired you to write your first book?
I’ve always been a pretty imaginative kid and had this story (more of a daydream) circling in my head for several years that kept growing and developing into something bigger and more complex. But this was pre-Twilight. People weren’t devouring paranormal romance then as they are now. So, after the craze hit, I thought, hey, maybe I’m not so weird after all, and started putting those words on paper…well onscreen!
What are your expectations for the book?
I want people to walk away from this series feeling as if the characters are real to them and really caring about what happens next in their story.
While you were writing, did you ever feel as if you were one of the characters?
Actually, yes. But oddly enough, it’s one of the male characters. York is the outlet for every sarcastic, wildly inappropriate, and snarky comment I’ve ever wanted to make. I put a lot of my own twisted sense of humor into writing his parts.
Do you have a specific writing style?
From what I’ve been told, my style tends to be very simple but very descriptive at the same time. Readers have said reading my work is like watching a movie.
What does your writing process look like?
It involves lots of post-its and scratch paper for random flashes of inspiration that I really, really, really don’t want to forget. With the Dark Siren series, as things got more complex, I had to make a reference chart of characters, their relationships and motivations—I also ended up crossing them off as they died, so they didn’t accidentally make it into future scenes!
Is there a certain type of scene that’s harder for you to write than others?
Action scenes take the longest. And this series has a lot of action. I like to keep things interesting, so it’s worth the struggle.
What are you working on now? What is your next project?
I’m currently finishing up the final book in the Dark Siren series. It’s tentatively titled Primed Son and will be released next year. At the same time, I’m working on another paranormal romance. It’s a separate book that follows entirely different characters. I’ve put some excerpts online and have gotten some really good feedback, so I’m pretty excited about it. Look for it next year as well.
If you had a super power, what would it be?
I would have to say telekinesis, but on a Dark Phoenix level. Being able to move things with my mind would be invaluable during my morning commute to work.
Do you have any advice for other writers?
Plan your first book as a potential stand alone novel. Write every day. And don’t give up!
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