Authors: T.A. Foster
Tags: #Romance, #Nox
Head Over Heels Collection
A Very Grey Christmas
Hollywood Kiss Collection
Ivy Grace Spell Series
To the Nox in my life
can see the blood trickle faster now that the point of the knife is pressed deep against his skin. His eyes are closed. He doesn’t see me. None of them does.
They are too focused on the fire and the sacrifice they are about to make in the shadows of its flame.
I crouch, the limb supporting me as I edge closer. I am outnumbered. If I pounce now, the Tribe will surround me in seconds. But, if I wait much longer, they will kill him.
There in the center I see everything familiar to me. I know them and somehow the wildness and violence I’m witnessing has stripped away the memories of who I thought they were.
I’m forced to feel my raw emotions spilling around me, consuming my choices, my inaction. How has this happened?
My ears twitch at the low growling sounds that start in the center of the circle, then make their way around until they’re so loud it’s deafening.
My head throbs from the sounds of their celebration. I don’t have time to regret the choices that led us here. Later. Regrets are for later.
The steel blade sinks against his skin, and my eyes narrow.
Now. I need to move now or he will be lost to me forever.
The forest will hear my roar and so will the Tribe. I leap from the branch, landing in the center, scattering the fire and the knife. They growl, their sharp teeth bared at me.
I’ve spent my life fighting for humans, but tonight I will fight until I’m dead.
nly two more weeks. That was what I told myself. Two more weeks of classes then exams, followed by a painful graduation ceremony in an itchy nylon robe. The professor droned on about weather patterns. I typed notes on my laptop, but would rather be outside scanning the sky.
“Hey, lunch after class?” my roommate, Vix, whispered over my shoulder.
“Definitely.” My stomach was starting to growl. I had grabbed an oatmeal bar on the way out the door this morning, but it was wearing off.
The class had thinned significantly in the last few days of the semester. If anyone was paying attention to the lecture on cloud formations, they had me fooled.
An hour later, we filed out of the lecture hall.
“God, that was torture.” Vix rolled her eyes.
“Seriously.” We walked outside.
“We aren’t actually going to study for that exam, are we?” she asked.
“Honestly, at this point, I don’t care. We’re going to graduate.”
“You read my mind. I’ve been craving grilled cheese all morning.”
We walked toward the corner drugstore a block off campus where students liked to congregate.
There was already a line forming out the door.
“Looks like a long wait.” Vix huffed.
I pulled the phone from my pocket to check messages. “Have you heard from Tegan or Abi?”
“No, what’s up with them?”
I held the phone to my ear, listening to the voicemail. “Not sure. I haven’t seen them all week.” I deleted a message from the administrative office reminding me to pick up my actual diploma. They wouldn’t be using the real thing during the graduation ceremony.
We shuffled forward with the line. “Whoa. What is this?” Vix pointed to a poster taped to the window.
I stepped closer and read it aloud. “Annual storytellers’ convention?”
“God, not what we need.” She kept her voice low.
I continued. “Featuring top storytellers from around the country and local historian Zac Morgan, an expert on the Ghost of the Forest.”
I studied his picture. He looked rather young to be an expert on anything.
“Well, the guy is hot.”
“Yeah, I guess so, but the storytelling is not.” I was tempted to walk inside and tear down the poster. “The timing couldn’t be worse.”
“No shit.” Vix smiled as the guy in front of us held the door open. It appeared he was alone. “You ever heard of that Zac guy?”