Surrender, Book 3 The Elfin Series (31 page)

I remember you. You took my breath away then,

And a century later you still do.

Dinner, Wednesday, 7:00 p.m.

Yours,

R

From the author:

Thank you so very much for going on this journey with me and the characters from the Elfin Sereis. This is the last book in this series, though there will be a Novella about Lisa, Elora’s mother. So be looking for that! I hope that you enjoyed your journey with Cassie and Elora and if you are interested in other books like this you can check out my other series, as well as the following excerpts from several talented authors.

Excerpt From Into the Fae, Book of 1 of the Gypsy Healer Series By Quinn Loftis

 
A slow smile formed on his lips as he brushed a few wisps of hair from her face and then used that same finger to trace the swollen lips he had just tasted. “You look ravished.”

“Do I?” She asked innocently.

“Mm-hmm,” his chest rumbled as he continued to stare down at her with unabashed want.

“Well you look hungry,” she teased.

“Oh I am, beloved. I am famished.” He kissed her forehead and then her cheeks and then her chin. “Lucky for me I find that there is feast before me.”

Excerpt from The Forgotten Ones

Laura Howard

I caught a glimpse of my mother staring out the den window. She held her violin loosely under her chin and the bow dangled from her fingertips. Her jaw was slack, her eyes locked on something in the trees beyond me. I knew that haunted expression. I froze. I swallowed hard as her eyes shifted to me. The violin fell from her chin, and I could see her bottom lip trembling. I should have been used to that reaction from her when she saw me during an episode. It happened every time. But I wasn’t.

I flew into the house as fast as my feet would carry me. The screen door crashed behind me as I came to a halt outside the den. My mother clutched fistfuls of her blonde hair, garbled words spilling from her lips.

“I have to. I have to go out there,” she said. “He’s waiting for me.” She stood in the semi-darkness, mumbling, the only other sound the hum of the ceiling fan.

I clung to the doorjamb as I watched my grandmother approach carefully. She placed her hands on my mother’s shoulders, and on contact my mother’s body stopped quaking. Gram crooned, rocking her back and forth, as she pulled her into her arms and led her away from the window. My stomach tightened, and I backed away to leave them alone. If she saw me again, who knew what would happen. I cringed as the floor creaked beneath me, and she jerked her head in my direction. Her eyes widened when she saw me, and the shaking began again. Breaking away from my grandmother, she stumbled backward toward the window. She raked her fingers down her face and hair as she moaned.

“Liam…” Tears streamed down her cheeks, causing thick strands of hair to stick to her face.

I entered the room slowly, desperate not to step on another squeaky floorboard. Her green eyes burned into mine, and I locked my eyes on hers. No matter how many times she fought my attempts to soothe her, I had to keep trying. She was my mom. I reached for her shoulders. “Mom,” I whispered. “It’s just me.”

She flinched. I knew she recognized me. I’d never met my father, but under my mattress I hid the only scrap I could find with his image on it. The picture—a strip of them actually—was taken before I was born in a photo booth in Ireland. I looked just like him. Considering how she often spoke his name when she was like this, my gut told me that she saw my father in me. She writhed as I touched her and clawed at my hands. Gurgling sounds came from somewhere deep in her throat, but I knew she was still saying my father’s name. I placed my hands gently over hers, my gaze steady, as though approaching a wounded animal. I took deep, soothing breaths the way Gram had taught me.

I could feel the weight of Gram’s stare, watching as I got closer than ever to my mother actually letting me comfort her. I focused on my mom, ignoring the panic rising in my chest.

“Shh..you’re okay,” I said. “You’re okay.” I repeated it over and over, softly, until her breathing became even, more normal. It felt like hours, but the tension in her fingers loosened eventually as she stopped trying to resist me.

My grandmother walked out of the room as I continued to make shushing sounds, the panic in my

mother’s eyes fading. I couldn’t see it, but I knew Gram was probably smiling, at least a little. I exhaled and led my mother to the couch. The same woman who had just been in the throes of a schizophrenic episode was now completely unresponsive as she sat. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Gram standing just outside the doorway. I released my mother’s hands—she’d stay that way for a while, and there was nothing any of us could do—and got up to follow Gram down the hallway to the kitchen. The air wafted toward me as she moved, smelling like oranges and cloves—familiar and comforting.

I opened the refrigerator, snagged a bottle of water, and slouched down at the kitchen table. I tried to smile as I unscrewed the cap, but inside I was struggling with the gratification of being able to bring my mother down from her episode versus the pang of guilt for being the one who caused her condition in the first place. Before I was born, she’d been a bright, happy college student. Her spiral into schizophrenia didn’t start until I showed up. She had met my father during her last year of college. She had traveled to Ireland for her final semester to study music at Trinity College in Dublin. She’d been fine when she left, I’m told, but when she came back she was heartbroken and pregnant. She’d never been the same since.

“Have you eaten, honey?” Gram asked, nailing me in place with her eyes.

I flipped the bottle cap in my fingers. “No, but I’m fine.”

“Oh no, you don’t. We had a nice steak for supper, cooked just the way you like. You’ll have some, won’t you?”

I had to laugh. With Gram there was no choice, even if she asked. I sat down at the table while she whirled around the kitchen. In minutes I had a steak dinner in front of me, complete with steaming mashed potatoes and green beans.

“You spoil me, you know,” I said between bites. “I’m never going to be able to take care of myself if you keep this up.”

Gram smiled at me. “You’ll have plenty of time to take care of yourself. Let me spoil you while I still can.”

I swallowed down the guilt, knowing she didn’t see raising me—and Mom—for the past almost twenty-two years as the burden it felt like to me. As I ate, my mother walked into the kitchen. She sat down at the table quietly without looking at either of us.

“Hi, Mom…” I spoke as softly as I could, not wanting to alarm her.

“Hello.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. She chewed on her fingernail and stared absently out the window. Even with the hair framing her face in knots, my mother looked lovely. Her eyes sage green, her skin flawless. She was forty-three but didn’t look a day over thirty.

“That was a beautiful tune you played earlier, Beth,” Gram said as she took my mother’s hands in her own. “I could practically smell the breeze blowing in off the Irish sea.”

“Mm hmm,” my mother answered, mostly detached, but a tiny smile lifted the corner of her mouth.

My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out quickly before it startled my mom. I opened it to find a message from my cousin, Nicole: I need ice cream tonight

I gave a small laugh as I put my phone back into my pocket. I’d worked all afternoon at my grandfather’s hardware store, but it was Friday night—I should’ve known I wouldn’t be able to just relax with a good book. Nicole was twenty, only a year younger than me, and we were as close as sisters. But our ideas of a perfect Friday night couldn’t be more different. If only we didn’t live next door to each other maybe I could get out of this. I glanced out the window to Nicole’s driveway. When I’d gotten home, it had been filled with cars—her friends had been taking over the place. But now I was grateful to only see her little Jetta. Hanging out with Nicole I guess I could handle. Her friends were a different story. Especially when Ethan Magliaro was around.

About the Author:

USA Today Bestselling author Laura Howard lives in New Hampshire with her husband and four children. Her obsession with books began at the age of six when she got her first library card. Nancy Drew, Sweet Valley High and other girly novels were routinely devoured in single sittings. Books took a backseat to diapers when she had her first child. It wasn’t until the release of a little novel called Twilight, eight years later, that she rediscovered her love of fiction. Soon after, her own characters began to make themselves known.

If you enjoyed this glimpse of The Forgotten Ones, you can download it for free at all retailers!

Check out Dirty Blood by Bestselling Author Heather Hildenbrand

  
I killed a girl last night. I did it with my bare hands and an old piece of pipe I found lying next to the dumpster. But that's not the part that got me. The part that scared me, the part I can't seem to wrap my head around and still has me reeling, was that when she charged me, her body shifted-and then she was a wolf. All snapping teeth and extended claws. But by the time I stood over her lifeless body, she was a girl again. That's about the time I went into shock. And that was the moment he showed up.
Now, all I can do is accept the truths that are staring me in the face. One, Werewolves do exist. And two, I was born to kill them.

Best Selling Author Melissa Haag

In a world filled with people, Gabby is uniquely alone. The tiny sparks she sees in her mind represent the people around her, but she doesn't know why she sees them. A chance encounter leads her closer to answers, and into a hidden society where fur is optional. There she meets Clay. He is everything she doesn't want, but might be everything she needs to discover the answers she's searching for.