Synopsis:
“Amelia
undoes me in ways that I can’t fathom. With her, I can feel the coils
of pain and memory that entwine so deeply inside me beginning to loosen.
Far in the back of my mind, I can’t help wondering what will happen if
they unravel completely. Will she know how to gather them up and reweave
them into something new and better? I sure as hell don’t.”
Amelia
and Ian's story continues in Book Two of this erotic retelling of
"Sleeping Beauty" set in the near future. Torn apart by the revelation
of Ian's tormented past, the lovers are caught in a web of deadly danger
they can only survive by confronting together.
As
the collective madness of Carnival descends on the glittering world
city of Manhattan, Ian's fight to redeem himself takes him into the
depths of the nightmare that has haunted him for so long. At the center
of it is Amelia, at once a pawn in a monstrous game of evil and the only
hope of ultimately defeating it.
In
a world ruled by sensual excess, the passion of these lovers holds the
power to transform despair into hope and betrayal into justice. But a
fateful decision will change the course of their lives forever.
*Contains sexual content. Intended for mature audiences.*
This
is a full-length novel of 99,000+ words. It is the second book in a
trilogy and as such it does contain a cliff hanger. But you won’t have
to wait long! ANEW: Book Three: Entwined, the conclusion of the trilogy,
arrives in May.
Excerpt:
The small gold plaque bears a single line of cursive script, “The Cabinet of Secret Delights”.
A
shiver of anticipation runs through me. I know this place. I recognize
it. I’m back at the palazzo where Ian and I first met. But it isn’t
real. It’s a dream.
I don’t care. Awake, I am forlorn and alone. Only in dreams do I come alive.
At
my touch, a hidden door beside the plaque swings open. The room I step
into is a study in beauty and opulence. Its intimate size is magnified
by the gilded mirrors hanging in ornately carved gold frames beneath a
soaring dome. The floor is covered by a finely woven carpet in shades of
hunter green, ivory, and ox blood red. The same colors are picked up by
the ceiling mural that depicts the god Zeus in pursuit of various
nubile females. Successful pursuit, it appears, as he is shown plunging
his impressive endowment into a succession of startled beauties.
But it isn’t the god who commands my attention.
In
the middle of the room stands a gilded cage, six feet in diameter and
at least half again as tall, constructed of roped wrought iron curled
into scrollwork. I stare at it as my heartbeat accelerates. Everything
about the room arouses and alarms me--the padded benches fitted with
discrete restraints, the armoire filled with exotic toys, the aura of
carnality that hangs thick in air lightly scented by leather and
sandalwood. But nothing effects me more than the cage. Aside from its obvious purpose, I have no idea why it is here.
But perhaps I’m about the find out.
In the world beyond dreams, the one we call real, I’ve only been in this room once before and then I was alone. Now I’m not.
A
man steps from the shadows. Black jeans hug the long length of his legs
and his narrow hips. Under a snug black T-shirt, I see the movement of
muscles across his broad shoulders and chest. His arms hang loosely at
his sides, the fingers of each hand curling inward as though he carries
weapons that are invisible to me. His hair is dark brown, thick and
slightly long. The sun has burnished his skin. He has strong,
symmetrical features, the facial bones angular and chiseled.
He
hasn’t shaved in a day…two? I wonder suddenly how the stubble along his
square jaw would feel against my fingertips. Is it coarse? Raspy?
Silken? The thought shocks me with its presumption of intimacy.
When
no more than an arm’s length separates us, he stops. This close, he
appears even larger, more formidable but also young, still in his
twenties. At last, I can see his eyes. Set under arching brows, they are
a rich golden amber shading to brown, framed by thick lashes. In them
burn the barely banked fires of heart-stopping hunger.
Distantly,
I am aware that this is how Ian appeared the first time we met. Such a
short time ago. An eon. The pain of missing him fills me with every
breath I draw, threatening to blot out everything else. I push it aside
resolutely. The dream is fragile. I can’t risk any thought that might
shatter it.
He
holds out his hand. Without hesitation, I step toward him. At that
moment, what I want most is to hear his voice. When it comes, the deep,
slightly husky timbre sends a shiver through me. I watch in unwilling
fascination as his full, surprisingly sensuous mouth--the only hint of
softness I can see in him--shapes a single word: “Amelia.”
My
name on his lips is at once an acknowledgement and a command. I obey
without hesitation and place my hand in his. At the first touch of his
skin against mine, pleasure sings through my veins. I am overwhelmed by a
sense of relief. This is where I belong. Where I want to be.
As
I move, I feel the thin sheath that skims my body from shoulders to
ankles. Beneath the diaphanous fabric, I glimpse blushing alabaster
skin. Ian’s eyes darken. His gaze lingers on my breasts, the indentation
of my navel, the small gap between my thighs that reveals my bare
cleft.
I
feel the wetness gathering in me, the excitement, the all but
unbearable need. I want so badly to touch him and be touched in turn. He
knows my body better than I do but even more, he reaches beyond mere
flesh and bone to the center of my being, soothing my fears, freeing my
hopes, fulfilling my dreams. In his arms, I have found the one place
where I am complete.
Without him…
A
wave of anguish curls through me. I flinch and instinctively step
closer to him, seeking the comfort only he can provide. But between one
beat of my heart and the next his hand slips from mine. He takes a step
back and smiles with gently chiding regret.
No!
My desperate effort to deny his rejection falters against my knowledge
of his implacable will. And with that, the edges of my dream begin to
fray.
Instead
of Ian’s embrace, the wrought iron bars of the cage close around me. As
I struggle to shake them loose, the mirrors that line the walls of this
sensual retreat suddenly begin to crack. Through the jagged wounds,
skeletal fingers of dank mist rush into the room. They spread quickly,
encircling Ian. Far from trying to elude them, he stretches out his arms
as they weave around him, swiftly cloaking him in darkness.
I
cry out, pleading with him to resist but it’s too late. He is vanishing
before my eyes. My sobs, my pleas, my curses have no effect. They fall
away, mere gasps on empty air, until at last nothing except the memory
of him remains. I am left alone, anguished and bereft, trapped in the
gilded cage.
The
coldness of the metal seeps into my skin. I begin to shiver
uncontrollably. Curled in on myself, I lie sobbing until the dampness of
my tears on linen pillow cases scented with lavender draws me back into
a reality from which no dream can grant release.
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