BLURB
When Atlas Black, a bad boy with a reputation in Carran Hollow, walks into The Hole-in-the-Wall bar investigating a demon sighting, it’s mostly business as usual until he comes face-to-face with his calix—his fated-mate. Except Ivy Day, oblivious to the world of seraphs and demons, thinks she’s stranded in Carran Hollow because a stupid bus has broken down. She just needs a ride to get to the next bus in order to get to her sister across the country. While the guy in the bar hitting on her is hotter than any human has the right to be, unless he’ll give her a lift, she doesn’t have any patience for anything else. But little does she know, Atlas is about to take her on the ride of her life—that is, as long as they can get through the demons.
EXCERPT:
[Rome] pulls his phone from his pocket and glances at it. “Bus coming into the Hollow.”
Samson and I groan. Buses mean tourists. Obnoxious tourists drag in the demon riff-raff hiding among them, and they aren’t usually the organized kind, but rather the fledgling demons or the deserters attached to the taedae, unsighted humans.
“Not it,” Samson says.
“How’s that injury?” Rome asks me.
“Not an injury,” I repeat. “How many times do I have to say it?”
Rome looks me over, eyes narrowed, as if he can see beyond my skin and bones. “Fine,” he relents. “You go into town. Wait for the bus to roll in, see if any demons have hitched a ride.” He points at me. “But don’t engage, not without backup.”
I’m already walking over to the cabinet, pulling on my harness, sliding a sharpened dagger into a sheath, along with another into my boot. “Me? Engage?” I glance at my bow but leave it, knowing I probably won’t need it. Those off the bus are rarely difficult to dispatch. I glance at Rome with a smile. “Never.”
Samson laughs.
I shrug into my black leather jacket and grab my helmet before I’m out the door, headed for the heart of town. After driving past Lowry’s Gas and Sundries, where the bus stops, and seeing the hulking, metal can is already empty, I ride down Main. I park my bike, cross to the other side, and duck into The Hole in the Wall, a small bar sandwiched between a diner called The Getaway, and a witchy souvenir shop that sells Carran Hollow guidebooks. One of these three establishments is often the first stop for tourists, and thereby their parasitic demons, when they reach town.
My eyes adjust to the dark. There’s an older guy playing guitar near the door. The shiny wooden bar is on the left and runs the length of the room. There are a few people lined up along the counter, atop barstools. Booths—mostly empty—line the right wall, and in between is a stretch of space big enough to walk between the two. I’ve been here before. I have been in every single shop in Carran Hollow, every single home—though the owners haven’t known I was there. The Hollow is my town.
The locals glance at me then look away, giving me a wide berth. They might know me. They might know I’m a Black. If they don’t, they feel it—that sensation skittering across their skin telling them danger is near. That’s all that’s needed.
Author Info
Romance author.
Lover of stories.
Maci Aurora has been writing stories since she was a child. When she was eleven, she fell in love with reading Sunfire Historical Romances about girls who made a difference in their lives and still fell in love. In high school, a friend introduced her to Lavyrle Spencer and Judith McNaught, and from there, her writing journey was cemented in telling stories about love. Having already published many novels (all of which are threaded with romance as upper YA and New Adult titles) under the pen name, CL Walters, Maci Aurora wanted to write stories that offered the same attention to story and characters but with additional steam.
Maci writes in Hawaiʻi where she lives with her husband, their children, and their fur-babies.
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