Known as Trace to his enemies and friends, this lethal Dhampir leaves no trace of his victims behind.
The life of deadly Russian slayer, Trace, has always revolved around death and preventing humankind from learning about the legendary creatures of the night. But now his position as a Watcher has become a prison, and dealing death for the Nation isn’t as prestigious as he once believed it to be. College dropout Bessina Darrow has witnessed things she isn’t permitted to see, a simple case of wrong place at the wrong time puts her life in danger. When Bessina becomes his new mark, Trace is prepared to eliminate her—until he discovers a way out for them both. Protecting Bessina means defying the leaders of the Nation, an act that has them both running for their lives. The more Trace fights to disappear from danger, the more he unravels the secrets surrounding his world of lore—secrets he must unveil to finally save a life, instead of destroy it.
A restless ache bloomed deep in Bessina’s chest, racing from her heart to her feet. A visceral need to stretch her legs and free her soul nearly wrenched her in two. Her muscles ached and her head pounded. She needed to run, not to escape, but to free her mind of the ensuing chaos.
Instead, with her feet stubbornly glued to the dock, Bessina awaited dawn. She’d said her farewells, yet couldn’t bring herself to leave. Uncertain of what was holding her to the spot, Bessina sighed. She glanced up and watched as the moon made its slow descent across the sky.
Everything was familiar, but not in the comforting way it should have been. Instead of warm memories, reality reminded her of how fragile friendships truly were. High school had come and gone, and her first year of college had been cruel.
It was in the past year she’d discovered what could happen if you trusted the wrong boy with the wrong information. To add insult to injury, she’d also learned some high school bonds couldn’t survive the gravities of college, or life as new adults. The realization she wasn’t leaving behind much, left a glacial void in her chest.
Bessina hefted the heavy Jansport book bag, attempting to relieve her pinched and bruised shoulder. It had all the belongings she thought important enough to take on her trip. After readjusting the backpack as best she could, she checked her wristwatch. She needed to leave for her bus soon if she was going to make it to the Amtrak station in time. This would be a true goodbye to her painful past.
If you want to be alerted to Running in the Dark's audio book release you can sign up here!
I used to say music was sort of like a white noise while writing, but it has become so much more than noise. For me, music has become a beacon in the night. When I am lost, music guides me home. If I am scared, music reminds me of my strengths. And most of all, when I feel uninspired, music becomes my muse.
ps: #5 is my absolute favorite!
Here is a list of songs I listened to on repeat while crafting Trace and Bessina's world in Running in the Dark. There are many more, but I thought I'd share these with you.
3. Rachel Taylor
Light a Fire
5. J2 & Blu Holliday
I Will Survive
If you'd like to sign up for my newsletter and find out when I am giving away an iPad mini, use the form below!
“I know now that I was raped,” he loved that her voice hadn’t waivered, “and killing him won’t change the past, Trace. I want to move on, and I want to heal, and I want that healing to happen with you. Are you interested?”
He nodded in agreement. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. She was his, for life.
Bessina smiled and slid across the car to straddle his lap. And just like that, his body tuned into her lush, warm body, and gone were thoughts of murder. He groaned and gripped either side of her hips when Bessina’s hands moved to the hem of her shirt. Slowly, she lifted the thin cotton tank until it was up and over her head.
Trace nearly choked on his words. “Damn.” Her pale blue bra and his shirt were gone next. Her warm hands caressed the muscles in his stomach and on his chest. He couldn’t believe she was doing this. She was not shy and demure as she’d first come across, but respectful and strong. And in this moment, she knew what she wanted.
He watched as she got rid of those little shorts and then started on her panties. Trace stayed her hand. “Those little white panties look so fucking hot on you.” He leaned in and took her budded nipple between his lips, drawing a small bead of blood. He lapped at it, losing himself in her rich taste.
Bessina scored her nails through his hair, ripping a growl deep from within his belly. She sat over his hard bulge undulating, warm and wet with need.
Trace lifted his hips to reach for his wallet and grinned devilishly when her head flew back as their cores met. He yanked the wallet from his pocket only to feel Bessina’s finger unbuttoning his jeans. Her warm hand wrapped around his length and he moaned long and loud.
His hands fell to either side of him and he looked down, watching as she pleasured him. His loud growls sounded in the car, drowning out all other noises. With each upward stroke, Trace lifted his hips chasing the carnal pleasure her hands wrought. He was so close he could feel it, and his body tightened and coiled. But when she twisted her hand over the head of his manhood, Trace nearly came in her palm. He wrenched away and grabbed her hand.
Her intense glare had him immobile as she spoke. “I want more,” Her voice was so ragged.
Trace pulled the condom out of his wallet and dropped it in the passenger seat. “You can have it all.” Her glossy lips turned into a sexy smile as his hand made its way between her legs. Pushing the soft fabric of her panties aside, he brushed his fingers along her damp folds.
Her head fell back as a sigh left her lips. “More.” She whimpered as she pushed her center down onto his fingers. “Please.”
Pulling his hand back, he worked on the foil wrapper. Why did he ever think this girl fragile or shy? Why did he believe that after her attack she would be ruined?
She watched him as he fitted the protection over himself then rose up over him. It was his turn to watch and she slowly slid down, taking all he had to give. Trace’s breath left him in a harsh breath as Bessina moved over him. Fire sparked in his blood as he met each of her slow, deliberate thrusts.
He moaned and begged as she moved faster and harder. Trace felt the first stirrings of his orgasm when Bessina leaned in and nipped his neck hard enough to sting. Wrapping his arms around her, he forced her to slow down, then guided her hips over him in long strokes. With one hand, he controlled the pace; with the other, he reached between them and tweaked her slickened bud.
Bessina came to pieces over him, her gasps muffled by his neck, her blunt little teeth nipped and bit at him. He pulled her back to face him. Her glazed eyes took him in. “Bite me again.” Without hesitation, she leaned in and bit his shoulder. Trace moved beneath her, his thrusts becoming sloppy, his words incoherent. The release blindsided him with force.
Trace reached for his coat and wrapped it around them, once again sending up a prayer. But this time, it had nothing to do with being a good man, and everything to do with having many repeats of what just happened.
Woot! The time is near and I am working super hard to get this ready for your greedy little Kindles! So, here is a little peek at Running in the Dark.
*subject to change*
Staring at him was taking her concentration away from her plan to escape, but she couldn’t quite take her eyes off of him—golden brown hair, light green eyes, and creamy white complexion that held a hint of honey from the sun all called to her visual senses, meanwhile, her brain was clamoring for a way to escape. The white males on campus had never paid her much attention, and she had returned the favor. She’d never got a chance to marvel at their creamy complexion or to get lost in a bright green gaze. What the heck?
This guy could have very well killed two people, set them on fire, and come to hurt—no, silence her, and she was standing there, coming to some silly realization that maybe she had missed out on a certain population of guys based on the color of their skin. She sensed this like nothing ever before and even without the eerie sensation she could see it in his eyes and when she looked past his outer beauty, she could see it.
This man possessed a darkness in the depths of his gaze that held mysterious and sinister secrets. He was a killer and she sensed no matter how attractive this man was, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if it suited his plans. He held himself in a constant state of readiness, muscles tensed, prepared to make a move. His eyes moved about, constantly assessing the situation.
She peeked down to the bulge at his hip and determined it was a weapon of some sort. He kept his hands extended to his sides keeping the weapon in reach at all times. Even as she sensed this from him, his movements and behaviors seemed practiced and a bit stiff as if he’d needed to pretend to be a normal man, though his stoic behavior showed him as nothing close to the type of men she’d known.
Like what you read? Check out more about Running in the Dark in CURRENT PROJECTS