Pyxi Rose is a single mom, writer, and lover of all things literary. She lives in the PA Mountains but her heart and soul will always be in North Carolina. She also enjoys reviewing books for other indie authors in her spare time. When she is not doing that, she is chasing after her wonderfully weird little boy, Wander Stone. Her debut novel, Redemption, will be the first book of nine in a darker paranormal series about Scottish Oracles. You can find more about her work on her blog at http://thetaghairmchronicles.blogspot.com.
The Ninth Taghairm: Redemption
Book One of the Taghairm Chronicles
There are far worse fates than death, but that is a truth Gadin Wilde knows all too well. He had to come to terms with his immortality from a sire that relished in the kill. He had eventually grown to accept the fact he was one of the damned; a vampire, an irredeemable beast driven by blood and blood alone. That was until he met the very complicated and alluring Talula Delphina and was shown another way of existing. In a blink of an eye, his whole world changed.
Cursed with a fate worse than death, Talula is destined to watch the world die. Punished with the cruelest form of immortality, she knows all about the devastation of death and the agonizing pain of rebirth. For almost thirteen hundred years, she has relived its vicious cycle time and time again. For a crime of retribution, her soul bares the mark of immortality, but suffers it in a mortal shell.
So when the dark and sensual, Gadin began hunting her, she welcomed the prospect of being his prey. After all, there are far worse ways to die. But nothing could have prepared her for the fire he lit within her.
And as their passions grow more intense, powerful forces fight to keep them apart. Will their love be enough to overcome their fated paths? Or will the secret crime Talula committed centuries ago, be so damning that Gadin won't be able to forgive her?
Excerpt #1 (Gadin’s POV)
She was humming to herself as she swung gently back and forth. She was wearing a tattered red dress and, surprisingly, a pair of furry boots. I had never seen her wear shoes before! She was so bizarre, this creature of flesh and blood, yet she was something so much more than that.
It was still cold as hell out and she wore only the dress and boots, no coat.
I stood there about a hundred yards away, debating whether or not to go to her again; to at least offer her my thin jacket I thought, trying to rationalize this unhealthy obsession I had for her. And suddenly her high pitched laughter pulled me from my internal turmoil. I jerked my head up quickly to see her watching me as she twirled on the old swing.
“Aren’t you cold?” She mocked, laughing sweetly.
“Nah, I’m cold-blooded, you?” I smiled, carefully, not wanting to reveal my fangs.
She bent down and grabbed an old bottle of wine off the ground. She took a long swig and then re-corked it, tossing it to me. I caught it easily.
“It’s a seventy-five-year-old pinot noir. I was saving it for a special night,” she explained as I took a swallow. It was dry and woody like toasted nuts.
“It’s exquisite. So tonight is special?” I asked, handing her back the bottle. She sighed deeply, taking another gulp. She looked so pained for a split second and then she smiled.
“I’m Talula.” She slowed the swing down but remained in its battered ring. She was so delicate, so frail; it was as if the wind could just simply blow her away like dried leaves.
I bowed and smiled.
“I’m Gadin Wilde.”
She smiled at me more widely now as if my name held a secret joke.
“Didn’t your mother tell you it isn’t kind to stalk the already damned, Gadin Wilde?” She laughed warmly. I was confused. She was damned?
“What do you mean already damned?” I asked, not denying my obsessive behavior. She breathed in deeply, looking genuinely confused.
“Why are you following me?” She took another huge gulp of wine.
“Honestly? You are terribly intriguing; barefoot snow runs and songs of killing birds,” I confessed, trying to make light of my hunting her.
“I guess I should be so lucky to have such an attractive stalker,” she smiled, shrugging it off. She jumped down, wine in hand, and sighed deeply. She looked sad as she started toward the cabin, looking back at me after a few steps.
“Aren’t you coming, stalker?” She asked, offering me a hand. I was dizzy with the need to touch her but I made no move. Then she smiled at me and the world grew brighter even in the face of my eternal night. She was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
“Oh come on, I don’t bite!”
I flinched at the phrase, but I took her tiny hand despite my misgivings. It was cold like mine. She wasn’t undead but something wasn’t quite right here. And as she led me into her cabin, her words echoed in my head,
“The already damned . . .”
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