The Spellbound Series
By author, Sherry
Soule
Okay,
today’s entertaining guest post has been provided by bestselling author, Sherry
Soule! She is sharing the first chapter from part one of the gripping,
Spellbound series, which has been recently revamped with more epic romance,
sizzling character chemistry, and thrilling new scenes. To help promote the new
editions, she is doing this fun book promo to share the news with fellow
booklovers. The new versions also include exclusive bonus material from the
charming bad-boy, Trent Donovan!
The Spellbound
series is a great mix of Pretty Little
Lairs meets Buffy, the Vampire
Slayer!
Free
Stuff!
For February, Sherry is giving away a special edition
eBook on Amazon each Thursday and Friday. Plus, she is giving away a signed
paperback on Goodreads this month!
Enjoy this excerpt from part one, BEAUTIFULLY BROKEN!
CHAPTER ONE
For as long as I could remember, I’d heard whispers in the
shadows. Black, twisting shapes that chilled my blood. Slithering through the
night, their greenish skin, crimson eyes, and sharp claws were illuminated even
in the dark.
Sunlight now meant the difference between life and death.
I normally felt safe during the day with the heat of the sun
brushing my skin, so that morning—when the shadows showed up in my bedroom—I
barely recognized the eerie whispering. The desk lamp flickered, startling me.
I stared at the last line I’d typed on my essay for English class, one hand
hovering over the keyboard.
Homework could wait.
I raised my head and closed the laptop. My heart hammered. A
hint of chilling menace climbed up my spine. Finishing my homework was the last
thing on my mind.
The spooky whispering, inhuman and ominous, grew more
intense.
Setting the laptop aside, I uncrossed my legs and jumped off
the bed, nearly tripping over my long nightgown. I scanned the dark bends and
edges of the room. The swirling azure colors of the witch ball suspended over
the bed rotated in a slow circle. I got down on my hands and knees to check
under the bed. Nothing.
The closet door stood open a crack. I stood up and wavered,
shoulders hitching.
I dragged my feet over to the closet and pushed the door
open wider with my foot. My gut clenched. My skin prickled. On tiptoes, I
leaned over the threshold, stretching to grasp the brass chain, then gave it a
yank. Light bled across dirty laundry, illuminating metal hangers scattered on
the floor. Dusty board games littered the shelf, and haphazardly hanging
clothes swayed on the bar. Fuzzy, pink bunny slippers stared upward with glassy
button eyes. Nothing unusual.
So why was I feeling so freaked?
The feeling, indistinct, but ominous, lingered like the
remnants of a bad dream. I couldn’t isolate the source. But something felt wrong.
The closet light and lamp suddenly blew out. As I turned
around, my peripheral vision caught a maelstrom of shadows. Things moved within
it. Something snaked past my leg. Writhed.
Stupid, stupid,
stupid! I’d forgotten to keep my telepathic
shield up. Again.
Shadows murmured in an ancient language, covering the round
pink rug like an opaque stain. The creatures fed off my fear, which was doled
out like too much bitter candy. Within the inky blobs were gleaming eyes. Red
orbs, open and staring. Spiny reptilian fingers reached to grab my ankles.
Instinct alone jerked me from their grasp. Demonic things with darkling eyes glared
back at me.
Trembles traveled from my legs and vibrated up my neck.
Dread choked me like a noose, strangling me from the inside. Bile rose in my
throat. I struggled to calm myself; all I had to do was run from the room.
Instead I froze with my back flat against the wobbling
closet door. My eyes caught something else. An entity, dense and vertical,
detached itself from the other shadows. Bigger. Darker. Malevolent.
The blackness was deep and vast. From within the shadow—a
mass of darkness, like a terrible yawning hunger rose in front of my wide eyes.
The shadow hung heavily, like a spatter of crude oil, pulsating and swirling
until it nearly touched the ceiling. It morphed, muscles expanding over bones,
skin convulsing, a resurrection of shiny obsidian, smooth and razor-sharp,
created from darkness and shadow. It throbbed, altered, trickled into limbs and
flesh and—
Oh, God, it’s
almost touching me!
I flinched and stumbled backward, bumping into a chair. My
knees buckled. I swayed, leaning hard on the doorframe. Blood roared in my
ears.
The nest of smaller shadows shimmered and crouched in
terror. They whispered in tangled voices, circling my legs like frightened
children. Their panic increased, seeping into my gut. My palms went damp.
When scary things get scared—so not good.
Breathing out desperate little choking noises, I shook my
head, hoping the image would fade. The head shake didn’t make a difference.
Only reinforced my worst nightmare.
Shadows had come alive and coalesced, taking on form. A human form.
A cold tremor shot down my back. I was in real danger.
Power surged through the demon as he swelled into a seething
black mass of energy, bent on blocking my escape. His rough skin, the color of
soot, held a sturdy flexibility, more sinuous than flesh, like a venomous
viper. His strange features—part phantom, part skeleton—fought to become
corporeal. Naked. Partially humanoid. No genitals. No hair. He flexed his
hands, revealing long fingernails. Talons on his feet. Knife-sharp teeth. The
reptile-looking creature did not move. He watched me with ocher eyes that
blazed, searing through my nightgown and scorching my skin.
The smaller shadows—demonic shapeshifters—slunk away,
blending into the dim corners. Beady eyes blinked. However, the seven-foot-tall
creature remained. The hellish warmth radiating from his body entered mine like
the breath of a dragon.
I swallowed. Hard. My scalp prickled with sweat. It wasn’t
as if I were some girly-girl afraid of her own shadow, but when they had
glowing eyes and sharp teeth…well, I tended to freak out.
Okay, focus, Shiloh.
My gaze darted to the window. Sunlight was my only ally. If
I lifted the blinds, the sun’s rays would swallow the darkness. At least that
was the idea. A crack of light ebbed into the room, soaking the crevices.
Inching forward, I kept an eye on the junior shadows with
their onyx hands, arms…flashes of carved faces. They continually moved, sliding
under the bed in a twisted game of peek-a-boo. The shadow man stood very still.
Intent, watchful, calm. Dangerous.
The disgusting odor of sulfur, musty and acrid, wrinkled my
nose. I wanted to say something tough and snarky, but I could only gape
stupidly at Shadow Man. Big bad evil. Whatever.
I pinched my nose and focused on not throwing up.
Shadow Man raised one hand and pointed at my arm. “Debts
must be paid.” His inhuman voice slid across the space between us, resonant and
sinister, like the threat of a snake before it strikes. “You bear the Devil’s
Mark.”
Say what? Then the ugly scar on my forearm—the one I’d lived with for
years—burned at his words, as if I’d plunged it into scalding water. It totally
caught me off guard. It had never hurt
like this before.
Sucking in a breath, I held my arm against me. Tears filled
my eyes. I gritted my teeth, twitching, unsure what to do next.
Move. Now. My legs refused to budge. Terror clutched my throat. Please, oh, please, go away.
Too bad I lacked the courage to scream
or fight rather than stiffen like a statue, immobile and breathless.
Shadow Man glowered. The miniature
shadows swarmed around me. Were they his little minions? Or were they still as
freaked as me? Didn’t matter because
now they had me cornered.
I backed against the closet door and stared, waiting for
them to attack. Shadow Man stepped closer. The freaky hellspawn crouched behind
him. The circle tightened, then he stopped. He cocked his head to the side.
Someone knocked on the door. “Shiloh?” My mother’s voice,
loud and anxious, penetrated the wood. Her frantic tone was almost as odd as
the thing standing in the room. “What’s going on in there? I heard a noise.”
Why wasn’t Dad the one pounding on my door? He’d want to
protect me.
Wait—what was I thinking?
He would think I was hallucinating. Only I saw paranormals in this dysfunctional
family. No way was I letting the big bad evil leave this room to hurt my dad.
Who knew what Shadow Man would do?
“Uh, sorry,” I croaked. “Can’t decide what to wear.”
“Be quieter then.” She twisted the knob. Thankfully, the
door was locked.
Now I had no choice but to do something about this…this thing. Before it went after my parents.
I glanced from the door to the demonic shadow. I recognized danger. I
recognized warnings. I bit my lip, tasting blood.
“Okay.” My fists clenched at my sides. Fingernails cut deep
into my palm.
“We’re gonna be late…and do something with your hair.” The
soft tread of my mother’s feet padding down the hall rattled me enough to do
what I’d first intended—run like hell. I took a step, then stopped. I surprised
myself with a sudden burst of anger. I didn’t know where it came from, but I
was glad for it. More than glad.
The eruption of hostility flushed my cheeks. I caught a
glimpse of my reflection in the mirror above the dresser—eyes wild and mad and
cheeks stained with the blood of roses. My lips tightened.
Come on,
Shiloh—think.
I rubbed my hurting arm over the cotton nightgown. Door or
window?
Shadow Man stood between the door and me. His black and
muscular physique looked invulnerable. No escape there. The heat of his stare
slammed into my scar. Yellow eyes expressed lust, thirst, hunger, and death.
He crooked a finger like a hook. “Come here.” The demon’s
gaze flicked sideways, settling on me with such heaviness and animosity my skin
recoiled. “Now, or pay the
consequences.”
Rage uncoiled in my heart. A dark force unfurled within me,
as black as the demon before me. I jerked forward, my cheeks flaming. My short
fingernails dug into my palms. But I felt no pain. Only the slow graze of terrible
rage. I bared my teeth in a snarl as the obscure dark power stirred within my
chest: precarious, unwinding.
“Is that a threat?” I asked, but the tone was not mine. This
time power and courage flooded my voice.
No one moved. Even the nasty little shadows became rigid.
Shadow Man hesitated. Our gazes met in silent combat. I held my breath,
watching him. My heart was beating at a dizzying pace.
The demon flung back his head. A thin stream of smoke spewed
from his parted lips. The predatory cloud-snake pulsed with electricity. His
smoky vomit was viscous and black, generating an electromagnetic vibration and
a sulfurous residue.
At that moment, the only things real to me were the rage
coursing through my veins and the heat scorching the scar that traced a jagged
line from my elbow to my wrist. A constant reminder, ensuring I’d never forget
my freakishness.
Well, hell.
Instead of
screaming like a smart girl, I decided to be brave and sprint for the one thing
that might save me: the window.
As I raced past
Shadow Man, a blistering heat slashed into my chest. Stumbling, I tripped over
a book and fell to my knees. I gripped the ledge of the windowsill.
Panic and fury
radiated through my limbs. Blazing strong, a surge of mystical energy encompassed
my body, crackling with power. Static electricity lifted my long hair. I
squeezed my eyes shut.
Oh, god. Please—OPEN!
[INSERT BOOK
COVER]
Deadly
Witchcraft. Ghostly Threats. Doomed Romance.
They say every
town has its secrets, but that doesn’t even begin to describe Fallen Oaks. The
townsfolk are a superstitious lot and the mystical disappearance of a local
teen has everyone murmuring about a centuries old witch’s curse.
When
sixteen-year-old Shiloh Trudell takes a summer job at Craven Manor, she
discovers a ghost with an agenda. That’s where she meets the new town hottie,
Trent Donovan, and immediately becomes enchanted by his charms.
Finally,
Shiloh’s met someone who is supercute and totally into her, but Trent is
immersed in the cunning deception that surrounds the mysterious Craven Manor.
So much so that he may lose sight of what is truly important to him. And she
can’t decide whether she wants to shake him or kiss him. Yet neither one of
them can deny the immediate, passionate connection growing between them.
But underlying
everything is the fear that Trent may be the next victim on a supernatural hit
list, and Shiloh is the only person with the power to save him…
With cryptic
messages from a pesky wraith, Shiloh
will finally begin to understand the mysterious significance of the strange
mark branded on her wrist and decide how much she’s willing to sacrifice
to protect the other teenagers in town.
Unfortunately,
for Shiloh, not all ghosts want help crossing over. Some want vengeance.
BUY BEAUTIFULLY BROKEN (part 1) today!
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