Awakening Kiss (Watcher's Kiss Book 4)
A
WAKENING
K
ISS
Sharon Kay
This is a work of fiction. Any actual places are used in a fictional context. Other names of places and people are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual places or people is purely coincidental.
A
WAKENING
K
ISS
Edited by Janet Michelson
Cover art by Kim Killion at The Killion Group, Inc.
Interior design by Cheryl Murphy at
Ink Slinger Editorial Services
A
WAKENING
K
ISS
© 2016 Sharon Kay
ISBN-13:978-1536964103
ISBN-10:1536964107
B
OOKS BY
S
HARON
K
AY
The Solsti Prophecy series
W
ICKED
W
IND
W
ICKED
W
AVES
W
ICKED
F
LAMES
O
N
W
ICKED
G
ROUND
Companion to the Solsti Prophecy series
K
ISSED BY A
D
EMON
S
PY: A
N
OVELLA
The Watcher’s Kiss series
T
AINTED
K
ISS
A
SSASSIN
’
S
K
ISS
C
APTIVE
’
S
K
ISS
A
CKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First, a huge, sincere THANK YOU to my readers! Without you, these stories would remain untold. Your support, comments, and messages motivate me and mean more to me than I can possibly express.
Thank you to my amazing husband, for your patience and support of my writing. You are wonderful to brainstorm with about plots and powers. I love you!
Thank you to my son. I love everything we do together. I love your bright and curious mind, and your endless questions (and thank you to Google for helping me answer them)!
Thank you to my parents and siblings, my in-laws, and my extended family for your love and encouragement of my creativity.
Thank you to my critique partners and beta readers: Cam, Cristin, Heather, Jamie K., Jamie S., Andrea, Racquel, and my proofreader Toshia. Your opinions, advice, and nit-pickiness are invaluable, often hilarious, and always spot-on!
Thank you to the trio of women who make my plain Word document into a professional-looking book: Kim Killion, my cover designer at the Killion Group, Janet Michelson, my eagle-eyed editor; and Cheryl Murphy at Ink Slinger Editorial Services, my formatter and savior from the scary world of ebook html-coding.
And a big hug and kiss to the many bloggers I have had the joy to work with. The support you give to indie authors is amazing. Many of you have jobs and families and still make time to read and review dozens (if not hundreds) of books each year, providing exposure for us through insightful and witty reviews, blog tours, cover reveals, and contests. THANK YOU!
C
ONTENTS
C
HAPTER
1
A
LONE IN HER COFFEE SHOP
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S
kitchen, Enza De Luca sank her teeth into the flaky, light-as-air chocolate almond croissant and smiled. The extra hours spent perfecting the recipe had been so worth it. Meena, her best friend and co-owner of Java Genie, would love it. She’d probably suggest it to each customer who came in tomorrow. Enza could hear Meena’s lilting voice now, saying, “Would you like to try one of our new chocolate almond croissants with that?”
Enza packed the small batch of completed croissants in an airtight container, then carefully stored another tray of thirty ready-to-bake croissants on one of the racks inside the massive commercial refrigerator. She wasn’t due to work tomorrow, but the morning’s baristas would heat and then move them to the display case when they opened the store bright and early.
Ovens off and shop locked, Enza winced as the muggy July night slammed into her. It was hotter out here than in her kitchen, and with humidity to match, her clothes would stick to her in about two seconds. Chicago gave its citizens an annual heat wave that lasted a week if they were lucky, several if not.
She walked west on North Avenue, not seeing any buses. Lincoln Park, the trendy neighborhood where Java Genie was located, bustled with people walking dogs or just out enjoying gelato and ice cream. Side streets offered peeks at cozy two and three story homes. Some brownstone, some red, some gray, all of them were long and narrow, often with steps leading up to the front door and plants adding a homey touch to the postage-stamp sized front yards. Nice, but totally out of her price range.
Enza passed the first bus stop. No bus, but no worries. She squared her shoulders and kept walking. She usually didn’t work this late, especially because she started early in the day. Pastries tended to sell quickly among the morning commuters. But when the stroller and fitness moms came in, the display cases cleaned out.
The last lingering streaks of pink crisscrossed the western sky, so pretty as they wrapped through the encroaching dark gray. What was that old saying her Italian nonno quoted? Red sky at night, sailors’ delight… She swung her gaze to the traffic as a souped-up black Porsche tore down the street. The roar of the modified engine split the night and echoed off the brick storefronts. Enza rolled her eyes, figuring some dude was compensating for something—
Her eyes locked with those of a guy in a dark hoodie, just ahead of her. She was about to pass him by. He looked away from her quickly and slunk against a building.
A prickle of warning shot up Enza’s spine. Who wore a hoodie on a ninety-degree day? Even though it was currently nine at night, it was still hot. She picked up her pace, trying not to look but wanting him to know she was aware of him.
But he only stared down at his phone as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, hoodie pulled low. All she saw was his nose.
She walked briskly with her head high.
Never look like you’re weak.
Anyway, he might just be suspicious looking, not necessarily a threat. The next bus stop was five blocks away. She could go there, stop and wait, face him-and then what? Get on the bus? What if he did too, and followed her home? Shit. She should hail a cab.
But of course, there were none to be seen. She crossed the street and dared to peek over her shoulder.
He was behind her, though fifteen feet back, still looking at his phone. Or pretending to. Her heart hammered in her chest. She lengthened her stride, hands squeezing into fists. All the buildings she passed were dark offices and closed retail shops. Nowhere to duck inside. Next block. Hudson Avenue. Another peek. Hoodie guy was ten feet back now.
And ahead of her, two more figures approached. Every nerve ending screamed in warning. These guys worked in teams. One would create a distraction, the others would grab what they wanted…
Trepidation spiked through her. A man and woman strolled twenty feet ahead of her, lost in each other. A few men who looked like they’d worked late hurried along the other side of the street. How had the crowds thinned out so quickly? Shit! This time, she didn’t dare glance behind her.
There was an alley coming up. She’d been past it enough to know that it was wider than most and crossed behind the buildings to emerge into the next westbound street. That fact gave zero consolation as the two guys in front of her paused at its entrance, affecting a casual pose. But the knowing sidelong sneer one gave her turned her veins to ice. Like she was walking right into a trap.
Her heart thundered in her ears. Keep walking toward them, or stop…and have hoodie guy come up behind her? Her feet slowed. Panic mixed with uncertainty.
She yelped as hoodie guy shoved her shoulder hard enough to make her stumble. One of the guys in front of her snickered.
The other scowled at him. “Hey, asshole, you fucking blind? Watch it.” To Enza, he put on a show of concern. “You okay, girl?”
She didn’t buy it. Her breath came in short bursts that bordered on hyperventilating. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried to remember to breathe.
They all moved closer, creating a wall between her and the street.
Nowhere to go. Except the alley.
Dear god, don’t let me die in there.
Alarm erupted like a volcano and her feet took over. She turned and bolted for the alley, heart crashing in her chest, her sneakers loudly smacking the ground.
“Hey!” a male voice shouted behind her. The scrape of shoes running on pavement reached her ears.
Enza poured on speed, fueled by panic. Ahead, more figures moved around a blocky object, probably a dumpster. What was going on? No time to stop or turn around. She only hoped the people ahead could help her. Although some of them were on the ground. A fight? Gangs? Crap!
Darkness loomed ahead. Street lights on the opposite side of the alley provided the only brightness. Too far away to be any good, they only created weird shadows. One figure tackled another. More darted from hidden pockets of gloom.
Light and dark danced before her, her own vision hampered by her labored steps. Something moved in the breeze near the men. A mirage?
A grunt echoed behind her. A man in front of her punched another. Shit! Maybe she could outrun all of these guys. Maybe they could beat each other up and she could get away.
The dumpster neared. The men fought. And the light played tricks on her with that shifting, airy image. An optical illusion? It was even bigger now.
No time to process any of it. Her flight reflex knocked every other thought out of her brain. Speeding toward the other end of the alley, she ran.
A warm night wind caressed the fabric of Rhys’s T-shirt as he crouched on a rooftop above Chicago’s streets. Below snaked a busy avenue on which fewer and fewer people walked as it stretched to the west, toward a more industrial area. But warehouses, factories, and a smelly river never seemed to bother the most intrepid developer. New housing was going up everywhere, no matter the neighborhood.
