Demons

Demons.

We all had them. Some of us were just able to deal with them more than others. Sometimes it was merely an annoyance, like a bee buzzing near your ear that you wanted to swat away. It’d eventually lead to a sharp sting if you weren’t careful.

Other times, demons buried you so deep you were unable to climb out of the hellhole you’d been tossed into. At least, not without someone offering a helping hand.

My demons lived with me, enveloped me and kept me warm like a fur winter coat. Embraced me like a comforting hug from a friend. Caressed me like a lover. My demons planted a seed inside me and slowly grew like a beautiful poisonous flower.

Now that they’d blossomed, my existence had only just begun.

…………………

Excerpt from Never Letting Go, available on Amazon and other ebook retailers.

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Cover Reveal: Never Letting Go

Never Letting Go (Delphian, 1)
By Christina Channelle

Genre: Paranormal Romance
Age Category: Mature Young Adult
Release Date: April 26th, 2016
NLG

Synopsis:

It’s hard piecing things together after waking up in a random apartment with no memory of who you are, surrounded by mostly welcoming strangers. The only thing remaining of her past is the tattooed name imprinted on her skin. But with no place to go, these strangers decide to take her in and name her Mia.

Inexplicable things start happening to Mia within the four walls of her confinement, including her presently mute status, strange abilities, and secretive roommates harboring their own hidden agendas. With a serial killer on the loose, this apartment is her only place of refuge.

But when she finally remembers who she really is, her refuge is no longer safe. Mia wakes up to find out her name isn’t Mia at all, and that her life is nothing but a walking tragedy. Her previous actions of refusing to let go of the only person with the power to break her heart leaves dire consequences.

Especially since it involved striking a deal with the devil.


Excerpt:

I never believed in it, love at first sight. It seemed foolish, like something you’d see in a romantic comedy or read in a book. Those standard happily-ever-afters that leave you crying yet grinning ear to ear as the “love interest” of the day declares his deep and undying devotion to the heroine of the story—the sun setting, a burst of doves flying above their heads at that precise moment when the director yells, “Cut!”

Or maybe it was butterflies.

I thought love was something you had to nurture, to grow. Falling in love with your best friend would be a prime example. So I looked to my parents as a model to what love truly was, being childhood sweethearts and all. What else was I supposed to do? Mom and Dad had been gaga over each other: whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears day and night; writing love letters back and forth, and leaving them in secret places for the other to find around the house. Or simply holding hands as they strolled side by side in the middle of a park, me trailing after them from behind. All this was my inspiration for true love. That is, before each of my parent’s untimely deaths.

Tragic, I’ve been told.

My goal when it came to love was to mirror what Mom and Dad had. I thought that one day, I, too, would fall in love with my best friend—with Liam. Only this time, we would both live until our children and grandchildren stared back at us in awe.

So no, I didn’t believe in love at first sight. That is, not until I met him. After that, I would have believed anything—hand to God. And I would have followed him anywhere, even straight to Hell.

Sneak Peek of Reap

I opened my eyes but had to squeeze them shut against the harsh lights. My lids felt swollen, heavy with fatigue. My eyes burned, tears leaking from their corners.

It was the most uncomfortable of feelings.

I must have been dreaming.

“Hello?”

Although the word seemed alien to me, almost as if I had never heard it before, I instantly understood its meaning. The voice that had spoken was warm, making me feel as if I were suddenly sitting in front of a fireplace, wrapped in a heavy blanket, flames crackling. The heat of the word practically licked my skin.

Again, I tried opening my eyes, this time a bit more cautiously. Blinking, I slowly adjusted to the artificial lights, now able to see.

I found myself staring back into a pair of bright blue eyes, a look of wariness in their depths. For a brief moment I couldn’t look away as I stared up at him. Then he cleared his throat and glanced away, as if uncomfortable with my gaze. With the spell of his eyes broken, it was then that I noticed I was lying on the ground—no, on hardwood floor.

And with not one, but three interested faces peering down at me.

I sat up, then winced at the abruptness of my movement, bringing my hand to the back of my head.

Pain, my mind whispered.

“Careful now.”

I directed my eyes toward the person who had spoken such kind words. It was the first person I had noticed, the one with the blue eyes and the warm voice. His voice was deep and calming, and as I sat there I tried to think of the emotion I should be experiencing. Inhaling softly, I closed my eyes, ignored the painful throb in my head, and waited for the proper term to flutter into my mind.

Gratitude.

“Where did you come from?”

Satisfied I had found the correct word, I opened my eyes again to the voice speaking to me. It was a pleasant voice, reassuring to say the least, and immediately captured my attention.

At that moment, I didn’t notice the black hair atop his head, a striking contrast against his blue eyes that looked like I was staring into an ocean. I didn’t notice that the corners of his eyes crinkled up when he smiled kindly at me, complementing the single dimple in his right cheek. By just looking at him, anyone could tell that he was someone who knew how to laugh. But I didn’t notice any of that.

All those things I would notice later.

I stared at the corner of his lips as he continued to speak, not toward me, but to the others present in the room. “Guys … I don’t think she understands a word I’m saying,” he mumbled softly, as if afraid I’d be insulted at the notion of not comprehending him.

“I like her,” stated the girl kneeling next to him. She looked quite outrageous wearing a short black dress with a black choker wrapped around her neck, pink shiny embezzlements adorning it. Her white-blonde hair was extremely long, almost past her lower back. I directed my gaze to her face and found blue eyes staring down at me.

Her eyes were identical to the man’s.

“It’s always the silent ones we should be weary of.” The words themselves were harsh, but as I looked to my right I was greeted by a kind smile with equally kind brown eyes behind wire-framed glasses. They belonged to a man casually sitting on a couch, his shoulder-length dark brown hair tied back. As he continued to stare, he tilted his head to the side as if analyzing a computer software program that wouldn’t work properly.

I guess I was the computer software program.

“James, help me out, will you?” the man with the blue eyes asked calmly. The man on the couch, James, stood up and slowly sauntered over to my side, then both he and the blue-eyed man grabbed my arms and brought me to my feet. I didn’t protest, shuffling alongside them as we entered a kitchen, where they placed me on a wooden chair next to a table.

Sinking down into the hard chair, I averted my eyes downwards and focused on a crack on the wooden table. I knew I was still being stared at, three pairs of eyes boring holes into the crown of my head.

It was difficult not to look up but I managed. I needed a distraction, so I started to trace the crack on the table instead, feeling the texture of the wood as it scraped against my skin.

I find wood to be … quite rough in manner.

“Here you go.” That calming voice spoke once again and I looked up to find a glass of orange juice placed in front of me. It was at that instant that I realized that I was thirsty. I reached for the glass, instinctively bringing the rim to my lips. The juice was cool down my throat.

Refreshing.

This was familiar: the taste of juice in my mouth. Closing my eyes, I licked my lips slowly, trying to memorize this feeling. Perhaps if I stayed like this long enough, I would be brought back to that time of familiarity….

“Yo, Briggs!” James voice beamed through the room and I startled, setting the glass on the table. I hadn’t noticed the front door had opened—I believe an apartment building was where we were located—and a new presence had entered the room. I looked over to where a figure stood by the stairs, utterly still. Although we were indoors, he wore sunglasses. And even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I knew they stared directly at me, hard as stone.

He didn’t like me.

If the man with the blue eyes was warm like a fire on a cold winter day, this man was like the wood I had just caressed: rough, jagged.

Broken. 

Excerpt from Reap, originally published October 11, 2013. Reap has been since republished, along with Sow, under the title, Never Letting Go.