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- After I left for college, I thought I’d never see Eden again. But I found myself headed back four years later, destitute and unable to find a job anywhere else. Still, I was adamant nothing would keep me there for long.
Then I met the intoxicating Dax Allard. Copper-colored eyes, skin that emanated an exceptional heat, and a host of strange talents… It wasn't long before I was drunk on him.
But Dax’s past was darker than mine, teeming with ancient secrets. Falling for him could cost me my life.
I had two choices: walk away or deal with the perilous consequences.
It was no choice at all.
--
Fevered Souls Season 1 is the omnibus of the first season of the Fevered Souls serial novel.
Episodes included: Possession, Betrothal, Illumination, Initiation, and Judgment.
Excerpt
Dax wore a dark button down shirt and jeans that rode low on his hips, his golden skin flushed with pleasure. His eyes held mine steadily and constantly without any qualms, not at all like humans who had to look away every four seconds during a conversation. But he didn't follow any such norms. Dax stared at me like he wanted to devour me. And I liked it.
"I’m kidnapping you," he whispered, his breath sweet and tantalizing. His pupils dilated as he said the words, his scorching hands running up and down my arms. My skin, through layers of fabric, seemed to blaze as if it were on fire.
I struggled to maintain a semblance of rational thinking but my hormones were taking over, that incredible electric attraction between us incinerating any resolve I had to not show just how badly I wanted him. I leaned in farther, pressing my body against his.
The heat was overpowering. It felt like stepping into a sauna, or too close to a bonfire. In the chilly night, it was the most delicious pleasure. "Why?" I asked finally, making sure to inject some pique into the question. I knew stepping back just a touch would make my point much better than my body pressed up against his, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. My need for him was physical, mental, spiritual. "At my mom's house, you didn't seem to..." I trailed off, blinking and looking away as his hands stilled on my elbows.
"What?" He asked, his voice low but urgent. "Seem to what?"
The stupid lump was back in my throat. "I wanted to kiss you," I whispered, my gaze automatically going to his perfect, velvet lips and then back up to his eyes. "But you didn't even want to be near me." I swallowed, my voice cracking pathetically on the last part of my sentence.
His hands tightened just the slightest bit around my elbows then, and I could tell he was restraining himself, trying hard not to be too rough with me. His jaw was tense, his expression somewhere between fury and sorrow. "Are you distressed? Because of me?"
I sighed and leaned my head against his chest, my heart thumping wildly when he didn't move away or make me stop. His own heart was trotting along, much faster than any human’s heart would ever be. Heat blazed through the fabric of his shirt and almost singed my skin.
"Not because of you," I murmured. "Because of myself. I just...I want you so badly. And I don't just mean in the physical sense, although that's enough to drive me crazy." I chuckled softly, but he was quiet, waiting for me to continue. "I guess it's because of the betrothal thing, but it's like I can't function without thinking of you. You're on my mind all the damn time. When you're near me, I want to be touching you, I want to be with you, connected to you.
And then, when I tried to kiss you, you backed away. I knew then that—" I cleared my throat, embarrassed. "I knew then that you don't feel the same way. Your...I know you called it love, but I'm not sure if it is, not in the human sense anyway. In any case, your feelings for me aren't as ardent as mine are for you." His hands tightened a little again, and in spite of the sharp pain in my elbows, I continued. "I shouldn't find that so incredibly hurtful, honestly. You're...you're on another plane, Dax. You're beautiful, immortal, perfect. And I'm just me. It's natural that you wouldn't—"
"Stop." He didn't raise his voice, but it was undeniably a command. I pulled my head back to look at him. His jaw was clenched, his eyes on fire. "Don't ever say that."
"Say what?" I asked, intimidated by the way he was looking at me—livid, upset, furious.
"That I'm not as ardent as you are. That my love"—he practically stamped the word into my mind with the force he used to say it—"is anything less than what humans experience." He pulled me closer, his hands on my lower back. He dipped his head so our lips were just barely touching, his velvet skin whispering against mine as he spoke. "You. Are. My. Betrothed."
"I’m kidnapping you," he whispered, his breath sweet and tantalizing. His pupils dilated as he said the words, his scorching hands running up and down my arms. My skin, through layers of fabric, seemed to blaze as if it were on fire.
I struggled to maintain a semblance of rational thinking but my hormones were taking over, that incredible electric attraction between us incinerating any resolve I had to not show just how badly I wanted him. I leaned in farther, pressing my body against his.
The heat was overpowering. It felt like stepping into a sauna, or too close to a bonfire. In the chilly night, it was the most delicious pleasure. "Why?" I asked finally, making sure to inject some pique into the question. I knew stepping back just a touch would make my point much better than my body pressed up against his, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. My need for him was physical, mental, spiritual. "At my mom's house, you didn't seem to..." I trailed off, blinking and looking away as his hands stilled on my elbows.
"What?" He asked, his voice low but urgent. "Seem to what?"
The stupid lump was back in my throat. "I wanted to kiss you," I whispered, my gaze automatically going to his perfect, velvet lips and then back up to his eyes. "But you didn't even want to be near me." I swallowed, my voice cracking pathetically on the last part of my sentence.
His hands tightened just the slightest bit around my elbows then, and I could tell he was restraining himself, trying hard not to be too rough with me. His jaw was tense, his expression somewhere between fury and sorrow. "Are you distressed? Because of me?"
I sighed and leaned my head against his chest, my heart thumping wildly when he didn't move away or make me stop. His own heart was trotting along, much faster than any human’s heart would ever be. Heat blazed through the fabric of his shirt and almost singed my skin.
"Not because of you," I murmured. "Because of myself. I just...I want you so badly. And I don't just mean in the physical sense, although that's enough to drive me crazy." I chuckled softly, but he was quiet, waiting for me to continue. "I guess it's because of the betrothal thing, but it's like I can't function without thinking of you. You're on my mind all the damn time. When you're near me, I want to be touching you, I want to be with you, connected to you.
And then, when I tried to kiss you, you backed away. I knew then that—" I cleared my throat, embarrassed. "I knew then that you don't feel the same way. Your...I know you called it love, but I'm not sure if it is, not in the human sense anyway. In any case, your feelings for me aren't as ardent as mine are for you." His hands tightened a little again, and in spite of the sharp pain in my elbows, I continued. "I shouldn't find that so incredibly hurtful, honestly. You're...you're on another plane, Dax. You're beautiful, immortal, perfect. And I'm just me. It's natural that you wouldn't—"
"Stop." He didn't raise his voice, but it was undeniably a command. I pulled my head back to look at him. His jaw was clenched, his eyes on fire. "Don't ever say that."
"Say what?" I asked, intimidated by the way he was looking at me—livid, upset, furious.
"That I'm not as ardent as you are. That my love"—he practically stamped the word into my mind with the force he used to say it—"is anything less than what humans experience." He pulled me closer, his hands on my lower back. He dipped his head so our lips were just barely touching, his velvet skin whispering against mine as he spoke. "You. Are. My. Betrothed."
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