by K.R. Conway
Release Date: 10/18/13
Summary from Goodreads:
Luckless Eila is unknowingly the last of her kind: Rare. Gifted. Breakable. Stunning Raef is her kind's historic enemy: Soulless. Lethal. Lost. A legendary death 160 years before would set their lives to collide, forcing a beautiful killer to become a savior, a simple wallflower to become a warrior, and ruthless destiny to become a death sentence.
SUMMARY:
High school senior Eila Walker knows that good luck skips over her like an Easter Bunny on Speed. So when she inherits her grandmother's million-dollar Cape Cod home, she is downright shocked. And yeah, her new town isn't perfect: the cheerleaders are heinous clones, the local undertow can kill ya, and her Great Grams was supposedly fried by lightning in the harbor square. Still, Eila is hopeful her luckless days are in the past . . . until history decides to repeat itself.
A self-proclaimed loner and previous-social reject, Eila thinks she's hit the jackpot when drool-worthy Raef O’Reilly becomes her friendly, yet weirdly protective shadow. But being hauled beneath the waves by an unnatural undertow slams the brakes on bliss – especially when Raef storms to her aid with coal-black eyes and iron-like strength.
Eila, entirely freaked, demands an explanation and Raef comes clean, revealing that neither of them are average humans but rather the genetic remnants of an angelic pissing-match gone wrong. Eila supposedly can channel the power of human souls, while Raef is quite adept at stealing them. Even worse, the legend about her ancestor isn't such a myth, since Eila’s grandmother was one kick-ass warrior until her lightning-like power backfired. A power that is written all over Eila's DNA.
Now sought by Raef’s own family for her destructive ability, Eila must trust him to watch her back. But when a quest for information goes terribly wrong, Eila is suddenly left with only two options: become a weapon for the enemy or follow in her Gram’s fearless footsteps to save those she loves. Unfortunately she needs a willing enemy to ignite her suicidal energy and the only one she trusts has been guarding her butt and scorching her lips.
SUMMARY:
High school senior Eila Walker knows that good luck skips over her like an Easter Bunny on Speed. So when she inherits her grandmother's million-dollar Cape Cod home, she is downright shocked. And yeah, her new town isn't perfect: the cheerleaders are heinous clones, the local undertow can kill ya, and her Great Grams was supposedly fried by lightning in the harbor square. Still, Eila is hopeful her luckless days are in the past . . . until history decides to repeat itself.
A self-proclaimed loner and previous-social reject, Eila thinks she's hit the jackpot when drool-worthy Raef O’Reilly becomes her friendly, yet weirdly protective shadow. But being hauled beneath the waves by an unnatural undertow slams the brakes on bliss – especially when Raef storms to her aid with coal-black eyes and iron-like strength.
Eila, entirely freaked, demands an explanation and Raef comes clean, revealing that neither of them are average humans but rather the genetic remnants of an angelic pissing-match gone wrong. Eila supposedly can channel the power of human souls, while Raef is quite adept at stealing them. Even worse, the legend about her ancestor isn't such a myth, since Eila’s grandmother was one kick-ass warrior until her lightning-like power backfired. A power that is written all over Eila's DNA.
Now sought by Raef’s own family for her destructive ability, Eila must trust him to watch her back. But when a quest for information goes terribly wrong, Eila is suddenly left with only two options: become a weapon for the enemy or follow in her Gram’s fearless footsteps to save those she loves. Unfortunately she needs a willing enemy to ignite her suicidal energy and the only one she trusts has been guarding her butt and scorching her lips.
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Excerpt
Raef’s POV:
I shook my head to clear the ringing, and began to go after him again, but then I heard Eila’s voice behind me. I turned, and she was coming down the stairs, her stained t-shirt and old jeans still on. Kian and I immediately switched to a more neutral stance so she wouldn’t know we had just tried to start our own Fight Club.
“Oh,” she said, halting on the stairs, “I didn’t know you were here, Kian. Everything all right?”
He glanced at me, then to Eila. “Of course. I was just going to keep digging through Dalca’s journals. Ana might join me later.”
“Really?” she asked, genuinely surprised and happy.
He shrugged. “It will keep her mind busy.”
She nodded, “That’s a great idea. Thank you, by the way, for helping her yesterday.”
He shifted, looking more uncomfortable. The subject of Ana’s father was never mentioned around Kian. “I’m going to leave you two, so you can get back to whatever it is you have to do. I’ll be in the library.” Kian eyed me once last time as he turned to leave.
I looked back to Eila and she gave me a shy smile. I came to the stairs and walked my way up to her, “You didn’t take a shower?”
“I can’t raise my arms enough to get my shirt off. Do you have scissors? ‘Cause I’m just gonna cut it off – it’s old anyway.”
“Christian probably does somewhere, but I’d need to find them,” I replied, stepping closer to her and taking the edge of her t-shirt in my hands. “Turn around,” I instructed and she gave me a curious glance, but obeyed, turning her back to me.
With one good pull, I tore the t-shirt straight up her back, turning the top into a smock.
“Better?” I asked.
“Uh . . . yup,” she replied with a breathless squeak.
About the Author
I have been a journalist for 15 years and serve on the Board of Directors for the Cape Cod Writers Center. I also drive a 16-ton school bus because I am ENTIRELY NUTS.
In addition to working jobs that should come with a warning label , I hold a BA in Psychos (Forensic Psych), torment the tourists about Jaws, and occasionally jump from the Town Neck bridge in an attempt to reclaim my youth.
I live on Cape Cod with two smallish humans who apparently are my kids, my fishing-obsessed husband, two canines (adept at both flatulence and snoring), and a cage-defiant lovebird that sleeps in a miniature tent. Nope - that's not a type-o. The bird is quite the indoor camper.
In addition to working jobs that should come with a warning label , I hold a BA in Psychos (Forensic Psych), torment the tourists about Jaws, and occasionally jump from the Town Neck bridge in an attempt to reclaim my youth.
I live on Cape Cod with two smallish humans who apparently are my kids, my fishing-obsessed husband, two canines (adept at both flatulence and snoring), and a cage-defiant lovebird that sleeps in a miniature tent. Nope - that's not a type-o. The bird is quite the indoor camper.
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