Fractured
Davis
always leapt into a battle knowing his ability to heal would keep him
safe. What will he do, though, when he learns what it is really costing
him?
Davis has
fought the shadowkin on more occasions that he cares to think about and
proudly bears the scars from each, garnering the title Supercat, from
the other guardians for being damn near bulletproof. How can he forgive
himself, though, when the terrible
truth behind his unique ability to heal is uncovered?
Rowan has been lost, living his life in an ever-present fog to prevent an even worse fate. The only constant in his life is his one, the cougar shifter who draws him in and lights the way with his glowing amber eyes. He would give anything...suffer anything, to keep his one safe, even if his one doesn't know it.
Rowan has been lost, living his life in an ever-present fog to prevent an even worse fate. The only constant in his life is his one, the cougar shifter who draws him in and lights the way with his glowing amber eyes. He would give anything...suffer anything, to keep his one safe, even if his one doesn't know it.
Available at eXtasy Books: http://www.extasybooks.com/fractured/
And Amazon from the 23rd of April.
Thank you, Judie. Here is the excerpt.
ReplyDelete"You got a spare light in those somewhere?" Davis asked, pointing to Shamus's pants after tying the corded waistband of his shorts. The short man fidgeted and jerked—a frown on his face as he systematically dug his small fist into each pocket as he went through them. His eyes lit up as he pulled a small flashlight out of a pocket near his ankle and clicked it on. The brilliance of the light almost blinded Davis, but his heightened vision quickly adjusted.
Shamus swept the beam of light over the dark corner, revealing a trembling mound of rags heaped on the dirt floor. Davis held up a hand to stop his partner from following, and stepped lightly toward the bundle. Even in his human form, the slightly off undertones of the kid's blood flooded his senses. His cougar was prowling the corners of his mind, agitated and wanting closer, but pissed off at the same time, too.
The bundle of rags jerked as Davis knelt at its side. The kid underneath showed himself when he flung an arm out, pulling the cloak that had been covering him away as his frightened eyes scanned the room in frantic movements, settled on Davis, and calmed instantly.
"Sssh. It's okay, kid. What's your name?"
The small guy's forehead wrinkled at the questions, but he didn't attempt to answer. Perhaps he didn't understand English.
"You're losing a lot of blood, kid. How about we take you somewhere you can get fixed up?" He glanced around the dark, filthy room, then back at the dirty, pale, far-too-thin face warily watching him. "I bet a hot meal would go down pretty well, too. How does that sound?" He reached out, but the kid bounced to his feet quicker than the blink of an eye, then fell down just as quick. Davis had only a split second glimpse of those blue eyes rolling back in his head before he dove and caught the bleeding bundle a mere inch or two from the ground.