Overview
Sammi is an intern for a TV talent show, hating life and desperate to escape the monotony, when her wake-up call finds her. A member of a band involved with the show, the dark and mysterious Blaine, shows an intense and sudden interest in Sammi. For the first time, she wonders if maybe she shouldn't have been so eager for things to change.
With Blaine permanently fixed in her mind, she dreams of him—violent, bloody and intensely sexual dreams that only pull her towards him more. Sammi knows there is something uniquely different about Blaine—something she doesn't know or understand...but something she wants.
Every second spent with Blaine is one spent with danger. But every second spent without him feels worse.
Sammi wanted to take a bite out of the big apple, but will she escape with her life before it bites back? More importantly...will she want to?
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780857158031 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Totally Entwined Group |
| Publication date: | 11/07/2011 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 46 |
| File size: | 175 KB |
| Age Range: | 18 Years |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
"Mr Ryan needs his water. Now! Move it!" The vile woman turned her back and I rolled my eyes, biting back the retorts I'd have gladly shot her way ... if only it wouldn't have meant I'd get fired. My regret over taking this position heightened day by day.
After graduating from my tiny high school as one of the only students with an independent mind, I'd been eager to escape to the city. They said New York was the place dreams came true. The reality was something different. It was the place dreams went to die.
When I got this job, I'd thought my luck was changing. An internship with the TV studio was a sought after position ... and now I was paying the price. My first week in the big, bad city I'd met Jerry Callaghan — an investment banker with too much cash. He had crashed into me outside a coffee shop, sending my beloved mocha straight to the sidewalk. For a broke chick, mochas were a once-in-a-while indulgence.
Jerry had insisted on taking me for dinner to make up for it. One month later he was still around — but only because I owed him. Over dinner I'd told him my plans to score the internship and prove my family wrong, set up on my own and make a name for myself.
The next day I'd got the call to say the internship was mine. Only later had I found out Jerry was close personal friends with someone in charge. He hung the favour over my head like an axe. If I didn't repay in a way that pleased him, I'd be lucky if all I lost was my head.
He wanted something from me and I'd have had to have been an idiot not to realise what. So far I'd kept him at bay, but it couldn't be done forever. Part of me hoped he was only so interested because I wasn't melting at his feet, turned into a devout follower by the sight of his black Amex. How long had it been since he'd met a challenge?
It wasn't my looks that kept him interested, though I'd always attracted the interest of men — slim build, flawless skin and long, chocolate-brown hair saw to that. No, Jerry wanted me in the sense of ownership. And what Jerry wanted, Jerry got.
"Intern!" the voice screamed through my earpiece. "Water, now!"
Sighing, I picked up three bottles of water and carried them to the long, silver desk facing the stage. None of the judges looked at me as I placed a bottle in front of each of them. Assholes.
Retreating backstage, I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from hanging my head in misery. I was a normal girl with a normal life and a normal future. Growing up in the smallest of small towns, I had thought it was the rural setting that made me ache for excitement, for something the polar opposite of monotony, to have my life do a complete one-eighty.
If I was suffocating under the normalcy of my life even in New York, what did that say about me? I longed for something extraordinary to happen to me. To prove my life meant something.
A little girl twirled in a pink tutu whilst her mother emptied a can of hairspray over her already unmoving chignon. All around me was the sound of vocalists warbling, guitars being tuned, drums being thrashed.
Why were these people putting themselves through this ordeal? Some of them had talent but others were just in for a series of insults from the mediocre celebrities posing as judges. More to the point, why had I thought interning on a reality show, supposedly aiming to find the most talented person in the country, was my chance for a better life?
I glanced around, sensing a pair of eyes on me — a sensation I'd grown used to since starting the job. Most of the time, I blamed it on the creepy old theatre we filmed in.
Most of the time.
The earpiece blasted a stream of profanity. Someone had screwed up yet again and it was easier to take it out on me than to find out who. "Intern! Find act two-oh-one-seven! They're up in five goddamn minutes and no one has seen them!"
What made them think my luck would be any better?
I will not swear, I will not swear, I will not swear ...
"Sure thing," I replied over the radio. Clipping it back onto my belt, I set off in search of act two-oh-one-seven, whoever they might be.
According to the epic list of acts, two-oh-one-seven was a band. Backstage was a mess of cables; bits of metal jutting up from the floor that sound and light equipment could be tied to. The last thing I wanted to do was wander around and get myself lost trying to find a band. But I had no choice. I didn't ever have a choice.
Turning a corner into an empty hallway, I cursed my inability to keep myself found instead of always being in a perpetual state of loss. When I was about to head back the way I had come, a scuffle sounded from behind a door at the end of the hall. Was it them? Odd choice for a practice place. Maybe they wanted some privacy. I took a breath. Only one way to know for sure.
With my nerves jiving, I tapped on the door. Whispers and a hiss of words answered. Praying it was the band and I wasn't interrupting someone's booty call, I reached for the door knob.
It was wrenched from my hand as someone on the other side pulled the door open. Inky-black darkness faced me.
"Hello?" I called.
"Yes?" The reply was masculine, an entertained edge to the low, husky voice.
"I, um, I'm looking for ..." Damn, what was the act number?
"Looking for what?"
"An act. They're needed on stage."
"Two-oh-one-seven?"
"That's the one," I said, relief flooding me.
"Thanks for finding us." He stepped out of the room, his features emerging bit by bit from the dark. With his head bent, black, satiny hair was the first thing I saw. Then, as he raised it, a chiselled face and shocking green eyes came next. A cunning smile with straight, white teeth was last as his lips pulled into a menacing smile.
Three more men flanked him, though none as devastatingly handsome as he was. For every step he advanced, I retreated, until my back hit a wall. A strange smell bled from the room behind them. A smell I knew but couldn't identify.
The three others moved past us, heading for the stage. My heart pounded as the first man dipped his head towards me. Instead of speaking, he took a breath, as though tasting the air around me. He pulled back, a smile at play on his lips.
"We're late." The sound of the new voice made my head jerk in its direction. One of his friends watched us, a grin on his face as though the only thing in the world he wanted to do was watch his friend toy with me. To hell with being late.
Something was odd about the band mate's grin — his teeth in particular. Instead of being straight edged, two canines pointed into sharp fangs. Lethal-looking fangs. A spot of crimson at the corner of his mouth gave the impression of a deadly animal ... one who wouldn't think twice about ripping your throat out.
It wasn't unusual for acts to have quirky looks to enhance their image. Given their dark clothing and menacing presences, I knew this band wasn't a preppy Bieber tribute. I'd bet money on emo-rock or punk of the goth persuasion. And those types were well known for doing something weird to their looks.
We'd even had a vampire-rock band that hadn't made it past the first round. They'd had fake fangs that had given them a lisp and meant they couldn't sing properly ... not to mention the drool.
That's what I realised was the oddest thing about this guy's teeth. He seemed to have no trouble talking with them.
He caught me looking at the fangs and slowly licked his lips, his eyes flickering closed in pleasure when he got to the spot of crimson, as though he was savouring the moment.
The guy in front of me moved closer, drawing my attention away from his band mates, and growled — a real, honest-to-goodness growl that seemed to come right out of his chest. His friend smiled more widely but backed away, leaving me alone with the scariest of them all.
"I have to go." He held my gaze as he started after his band mates, only fully turning away when I couldn't take any more and dropped my eyes. I counted to twenty before I followed, wanting a considerable distance between them and me. As my heart thrummed, I wondered what I was so afraid of.
In the wings, I hid in the shadows. He introduced his band to the judges in that amused voice of his. They started playing a moment later; a cover of The Rolling Stones' Wild Horses — one of my favourite songs. I stepped out of the shadows, though still hidden from the audience, drawn to the beautiful stranger who moments ago had terrified me.
Though dressed in black sneakers and jeans and a plain, grey T-shirt, there was something about him ... Some unnatural way he held himself. The swell of his biceps, the broadness of his shoulders ... It all hinted at the power contained in his body. My eyes fluttered closed and I lost myself in a daydream where those arms came around my waist, drawing me in to him.
At the end of the song I opened my eyes, startled to find he was staring at me. My heart began to thud in response. Oh yeah, there was fear there. But if I was afraid, why was I so drawn to him?
The last note hovered in the air and I forced myself from the wings. In the distance I heard the judges' comments but couldn't take them in, instead trying, without success, to slow my racing pulse.
"Hey, intern!" An exec waved to me.
Approaching her, I wondered what new dimension of hell I would be sent to next. At least some meaningless task would get my thoughts off him. "Yes?" I asked.
"Make sure each of the acts has one of these forms. Get them to fill them in, then bring them back to me."
"Fine," I said, smiling as I relieved her of the stack of papers.
None of the acts acknowledged me as I handed them their forms. But at least the task of finding them, sporadically scattered here and there, was time consuming. Despite the relief I felt that the job was sufficiently distracting, my stomach plummeted when I realised I would need to seek him out.
As I scoured the halls, getting further from the chattering and hum of other people, he was nowhere to be seen. About to admit defeat, I leaned against a door jamb, my ears ringing with the silence.
Tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. A shiver tore through my body. The low chuckle tickled my ear before I heard it. I spun around. His startling green eyes locked on to my own.
"Why are you looking for me?"
How did he know? "I — I'm not." A blush burned my cheeks, making me feel like a stupid twelve-year-old with a crush. "I mean, I was, but not like that. I mean —"
"What do you mean?" he whispered, taking another step closer.
My body broke out in goosebumps. Rendered incoherent, I held the form out to him with a shaking hand.
As he reached for it, his fingers grazed mine. My skin tingled under his touch. He inched his mouth closer before whispering, "Thank you."
His breath teased my ear and my eyes fluttered shut. All at once I was afraid of the electric jolt his breath sent through my body, but I relished it as well.
"There you are. I've looked all over for you, Sammi."
My eyes flew open and he was gone. I turned to see Jerry marching towards me, an irritated scowl on his face.
Jerry did that a lot — showed up unannounced at work or my apartment. His way of checking up on me. Once, he'd even appeared at a restaurant where I was on a date with one of the crew guys from the show. The next day I'd got a verbal warning, been told if I was more interested in socialising than in work I could be cut loose from the internship. And my date? Fired.
You don't mess around on Jerry Callaghan without paying the price. And even though technically he wasn't even my boyfriend, he considered me 'his'. If there was one thing Jerry despised it was sharing.
I forced a smile. "Sorry, I've been trying to track down all the acts."
"Are you almost finished? I want to discuss something with you."
"Is an intern ever finished?" I asked uneasily.
Jerry shifted his weight. For a second I thought he would insist I leave with him that very second. "Call me when you're done."
It wasn't a request but an order. I nodded.
Jerry leaned in close to kiss me on the cheek. At first he'd made it seem like a friendly gesture, but as the weeks had drawn on, it had started to feel more like a promise of what was to come. Only it didn't feel like a promise — it felt like a threat.
His lips touched the corner of my mouth, a far cry from my cheek. There were no jolts, no shivers and no goosebumps. But then, with Jerry, there never were.
At around eleven I was released from my private hell. A faint drizzle of fall rain trickled from the heavens as I left the theatre. I pulled my hood up and wrapped my arms tightly around myself. Every night when I left, I couldn't shake the feeling of being followed. There were no elusive footsteps or figures lurking in alleyways. No evidence at all to give me a reason to feel that way, but I did.
It was a short walk to the subway station and a quiet journey to Brooklyn. Jerry couldn't even say the borough's name without his face twisting in disgust. When he'd found out where I lived, the next day he'd handed me the keys to his penthouse apartment on the Upper East Side and told me the guest bedroom was mine. So far I'd managed to politely decline the offer each time it was raised. I all but ran up the steps to my building, the feeling of being followed more intense than ever. The streets were uncommonly barren, as though the populace knew of some impending danger I wasn't privy to.
I fumbled with the lock before finally getting my door open. In a flurry of activity, I latched every lock and checked every window three times before giving in to exhaustion and collapsing on the mattress on the floor.
I slept, but got no rest. My dreams were broken and gave me no peace — fragments of violent images I didn't understand. Mostly I saw his face. At times it was a comfort and a pleasure, my body writhing under the sheets when I woke. At others, the fear was so thick I could smell it.
What was going on?
* * *
With a gasp, I sat bolt upright, my body slick with sweat. When my breathing had returned to normal, I looked at the alarm clock balanced atop several books. The neon numbers read five forty-five a.m.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness, the sparse contents of the apartment in various shades of grey and black. A foreign shadow shifted on the wall facing the mattress.
"Hello?" I croaked, squinting to try to make out what it was. The longer I stared, the more I wondered if there was anything there — or if there ever had been.
Nothing.
Great. Now I can add crazy to my list of faults. I sank back onto the pillows and pulled the sheets tight around my small and breakable body. Sleep did not find me again that night.
CHAPTER 2In the soft morning light, the sensation of being watched was still present. It accentuated my fears from the night before; convinced me something had been in the apartment. I chugged hot coffee, scalding my throat as it went down. My eyes stung from tiredness — if the caffeine didn't kick in soon I was screwed.
At work, though I looked for him at every available moment, I didn't see him. The hours dragged and I couldn't decide if I felt relieved or disappointed. The only excitement that day was that a few people didn't show up for work. All it meant was more labour to be palmed off on me.
As I left for the night, one of the assistants went berserk, tearing outside after me. Apparently the coffee I'd given to some boss hadn't been decaf. Because getting less than his crucial ten hours of beauty sleep was cause for a bitch fit. I sympathised, though — he needed all the beauty sleep he could get.
"God, where do they find losers like you?" the assistant screamed at me. "You think because you have a pretty face you can get away with screwing up? Guess again, princess. There are a million people who could do this job and be grateful for it. Don't think you're something special!" He shook his head and looked at me in disgust. "Idiot."
I bit my lip, refraining from hurling my own abuse. The jerk stalked back inside, leaving me in the empty and poorly lit street.
Once I was alone, the hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention and a thick knot of fear formed in my belly. With a shudder, I turned around to head for the subway.
My breath caught in my throat. He emerged from the shadows as though they were a part of him. Between his friend with the life-like fangs and the blood at the corner of his mouth, and his ability to blend into the darkness, the crazy part of my mind couldn't help but wonder if he really was a vampire. The man whose face was somehow as familiar as my own advanced on me — his expression a mask of anger. My stomach dropped and I thought I would shake from fear. Yet my feet dragged me forward.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Escaping Normal"
by .
Copyright © 2011 Pamela L Todd.
Excerpted by permission of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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