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Albert Camus

Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.

Friday, April 24, 2015

What good is immortality when every moment is agony? - Red Tide Rising (Immortal Touch #3) by Allie Gail

18+.This book is the final installment in the Immortal Touch trilogy.
The vampire Ash has returned from his watery grave, proving that death is merely a minor inconvenience. Picking up where he left off? That might not be as easy. Because someone else is vying for Sami's attention - the last person he ever would have expected.

Description:

What good is immortality when every moment is agony?

The vampire Ash has returned from his watery grave, proving that death is merely a minor inconvenience. Picking up where he left off? That might not be as easy. Because someone else is vying for Sami's attention - the last person he ever would have expected.

Fulfilling her desire for immortality seems the surest route to winning her favor. But for Sami, this gift will come at a terrible price. One simple lie of omission is all it takes to send her spiraling into a terminal state of madness. And as the last remnants of her sanity slip away, Ash can no longer deny that her maniacal behavior is putting them all at risk. His perfect angel has become a perfect liability.

But can he find it in his heart to destroy her?

EXCERPT





“Haven’t you ever been in love?” She didn’t say not counting Ash, but the implication was there. His impalpable presence, even when left unmentioned, remained a tangible constant hanging in the air between them.

“I’m not sure such a thing exists.”

“Ah, c’mon. In all these years, you gonna tell me you never had a solid healthy relashumship?”

Tristan snorted a laugh. “You don’t even know what you’re saying. Look at you, drunk off your ass trying to talk to me about relationships.”

“I’s just askin’.”

“What would you know about a healthy relationship anyway? You seem to gravitate toward the toxic. There is nothing remotely healthy about any of the decisions I’ve seen you make.”

“So forget relashumships, Mister Grouchy Pants. Izz all about sex then, right?”

“Apparently.”

“Okaayyy…” Sami pursed her lips, trying to hide a smirk. “Then why don’ you tell me ’bout the guy from Comic-Con. What’d you say his name was?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Oh, sure ya do.”

“I don’t.”

“I don’ belieeeeeve yoouuuu…”

“I don’t caa-aaare…”

“But see, now I gotta know. Gimme the lowdown. Were you gettin’ it on with the comic book guy? Did Superman put it to you?” For some reason, the whole idea struck her as screamingly funny. Clutching both hands to her stomach, she began to giggle uncontrollably. “Did he wear his cape? Wuzzee faster than a speeding bullet?”

Raising an eyebrow, Tristan shot her a derisive look.

“Wuzzee more powerful than a locomomo…locomum…” She tried to stifle the next eruption of giggles and failed. “…choo choo train?”

“You’re pushing it, little miss.”

“No, I really wanna know! I’m totally serial. Whassit like to get pounded in the ass by th’man of steel?”

In barely the time it took for her to blink, he rolled over on top of her, trapping her between his arms as his silvery gray eyes glittered down at her defiantly. She stared back at him in wide-eyed surprise, her urge to laugh instantly squelched. There was something decidedly wrong here. And that something was pressing against her nakedness with rock hard force.

His mouth mere inches from hers, he whispered, “Would you like for me to show you?”

“Huh?” she squeaked.

“Well, you just asked…” Never taking his eyes off hers, he moved his lean hips to grind against her slowly and rhythmically. “…what it was like to get pounded by the man of steel. I took that as a request to find out. Or did I misunderstand?”

“H-huh?” she echoed.

“It’s possible that I did. But no, I don’t think so.” Transferring all his weight to one arm, he slid the other hand beneath her to grip her bare ass. “I think that was an open invitation. So…should I turn you over on your knees and demonstrate? Hm?”

******

Almost simultaneously they blinked, the two heads bobbing about in disoriented confusion as they struggled to assimilate. Straightening, Ash took a step back and spread his arms open with a haughty smile.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the freakshow! I am your host and master of ceremonies. Tickets are nonrefundable and the rules here are simple. There are only two, so please give me your undivided attention as I will not, I repeat, will not be going over these instructions twice. Listen up, here we go. Rule number one. Do. Not. Scream. First motherfucker in here that wigs out on me gets their gray matter painted all over the walls. Unless you want this place redecorated with your brains, I suggest you take ol’ Sparky’s advice here and – how’d you put it? Oh, yeah. Keep. It. Down.

“Rule number two. I am in charge here. In case you illiterate hillbilly dumbasses don’t know what that means, I’ll clarify. You will do what I say, when I say it, without asking why. These rules are non-negotiable and subject to change at any time, without any warning, in accordance with my whim. Do we have any questions from the audience?”

Sami watched, enthralled, as the startled couple exchanged panicky looks. Once again almost synchronously, their bulging eyes returned to the gun being waved around in front of their faces. Neither of them seemed to know what to do.

The woman was the first to hazard a question. Bringing a shaking hand to her chest, she coughed twice before saying in a croaky voice, “P-please…I need a Xanax. I think I’m having a panic attack.”

“A panic attack? Really?” Asher’s free hand flew to his mouth in exaggerated dismay. “Oh, my. Now that is unfortunate. Regrettably, management won’t allow us to stop the ride and let you off once it’s started. However, we will have some nice parting gifts for you. May I have your name, please?”

“My…name?” Her cheeks grew even more wan if that was possible. She looked dangerously close to face-planting into the floor.

“Yes. Your name. What people call you. Comes above the street address on your mail. Generally the first line on your birth certificate. Any of that ring a bell?”

“Brandy,” she whispered before coughing again.

“What was that you were asking for, Brandy? A Xanax?”

“Yes…please. They’re in…in my purse. Over there.”

“My dear, you don’t need medication. What you need is a transfusion. Request denied. Next?”

At her side, Kemper seemed to suddenly spring to life. “What’s going on here?” he snapped indignantly. “Who are you people?”

“I apologize, but due to union rules we are only permitted to answer one question at a time. Kindly select just one.”

Not only baffled but clearly getting pissed off, Kemper gritted his teeth so that his lower lip protruded in a way that reminded Sami of Slingblade. “I said…who ARE you people?”

“Oh! That’s right! You don’t even know how to address me yet, do you? Please pardon the oversight. Let me introduce myself. I am known as Alpha to the fortunate, Grim Reaper to the unfortunate, and Total Prick to everyone else. You can simply call me Sir. To my left is my lovely assistant Samara. Take a bow, gorgeous.”

Smiling brightly, she gave a dainty little curtsey. “How do you do?”




About the author:
Allie fell in love with books from the moment she was issued her very first Sally, Dick and Jane reader. Born and raised in Alabama, she now resides in the sunny panhandle of Florida with her own blue-eyed Prince Charming and two fat, obnoxious cats. When she’s not busy obsessing over the lexicon of her latest project, she can usually be found watching B-movie horror (the cheesier, the better!), reading or playing online computer games while indulging her unhealthy Pepsi addiction.


2 comments:

Unknown said...

Sounds like Ash is in a rough position.

Unknown said...

Meh, he deserves it. :D