Series: Jaylior Series
Title: A Flare of Hope, A Flare of Power, A Flare of Sorrow, and A Flare of Love
Author: Elodie Colt
Genre: Paranormal Romance/New Adult Urban Fantasy
BOOK 1: $0.99 ~ BOOK 2: $1.99 ~ BOOK 3: $2.99 ~ BOOK 4: $3.99
She was one of a few hundred in the world. A rare piece of evolutionary perfection.
His only chance of salvation.
But also, his ultimate downfall…
The night they killed her sister was the worst in Haylie’s life. That was until a bunch of lunatics attacked her out of the blue, and a boy sacrificed himself to save her. Another murder happening in front of her eyes. Another life taken because she couldn’t prevent it. How the hell could she go on, living with the knowledge that their deaths were her fault?
Dylan was the best Fighter in the compound. Strong. Callous. Fearless. The perfect soldier.
As second-in-command, he had a decent life with friends he considered family and women queuing up for one taste of him.
Everything changed when she showed up on his radar. Incredibly, a Natural. So unique, even the color of her eyes had its own name—jaylior. Ever since Dylan joined the compound, he devoted his life to protect people like her but failed. Twice. Two women who found a horrible fate.
He should keep her safe, but how could he when all he craved was revenge? When each time he looked into those eyes he was reminded of the painful realization she might be the next to end up dead?
How would you feel if you were gifted to wield nature’s greatest power?
Ever since Haylie found out she was a Natural—one of the rarest human beings in existence—she was determined to find out about her power. The problem? She had no clue where to start. What made things worse was that Dylan, the man who'd dared her to show up in his periphery, was now her trainer and eager to push her to her limits.
Dylan was on a mission to avoid Haylie. She was the reason his brother was buried six feet under after all. Still, as long as they were in the dark about her ability, she was a ticking time bomb. And of course, he was the only one who could defuse it. In the end, no one could have guessed what kind of power she hid behind those haunting eyes of hers.
He was just glad they still had a year or two left before her Awakening.
Little did he know that time was quickly running out…
He failed to save them—his soulmate, his brother, and her sister.
He swore to protect her.
Now he broke his promise a fourth time.
Haylie was glad her Awakening was over. She could finally handle her power, thanks to Dylan who was slowly but surely breaking through their friend zone.
And slamming right into something far more intimate.
Her luck was short lived, though, when she suddenly found herself in the hands of a psychopath. Kidnapped and deceived by someone she’d thought she could trust.
Dylan was on the verge of losing his mind. The anger consuming him since his precious Natural had been snatched away under his watchful eyes was maddening. The only thing he could do was hope. Hope of finding Haylie and getting her out of wherever the hell she was. Alive.
Because if he lost her, he would find no reason to fight through another day…
He became her lover. Then he became her enemy.
Now, it was time to become her savior.
Haylie didn't know how much more she could take.
Her father? Mysteriously alive and determined to become a part of her life.
Dylan? Unreachable. Caught in an inner war. Trapped in his own personal hell.
Haylie just wanted it to end. But the game wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
Dylan was lost. Lost in an endless state of white-hot rage. Lost in his own torturing mind, tearing him apart little by little. Lost until she saved him, slamming right into his soul and slaughtering his demons while putting her life on the line without batting an eyelid.
She was the only thing stable in his life. She was the only one to make his past bearable. She was the only one to make his future livable. He’d sacrifice everything to give her the life she deserved, far away from the battles and the constant pain, but danger was once again hot on their heels...
Book 1, A Flare of Hope
My cigarette glowed in the darkness, and I watched the apartment through the haze of smoke. All the lights were off. Congratulations Dylan, you haven’t considered the possibility of her already being asleep. Worst cloak-and-dagger mission ever.
What now? Break in and sneak up on her in her bedroom? She might die of a heart attack. Not that I’d care, but this wasn’t my style. Damn, what was I even doing here?
There was a dimly lit courtyard leading to the backside which could help me getting a closer look. Maybe I could catch something through the windows.
Just as I approached the porch, the tip-tap of quiet footsteps resounded and something like keys jingling. Quickly hiding in the shadows, I saw a female figure coming up the steps.
Where did she suddenly come from? I should have spotted her on the sidewalk, but the streets had been clear. No human soul in sight. I remembered what Jimmy had said about the girl having a knack for moving on top of the buildings. Her hair was hidden behind a hood, but I could see some windblown strands sticking out in front of her face. She was panting, her chest heaving as if she’d just run ten miles.
So, this was the Natural. Damn, she didn’t have an ounce of imagination what burden lay on her shoulders.
She was tall, I guessed about five feet nine. Her clothes were plain black. It was obvious she wanted to blend in with the darkness. She moved with caution, her steps hesitant and her head whipping from side to side as if she feared for a creature to jump out of the shadows any second. Well, she wasn’t completely off base, considering I intended to do exactly that.
She turned the keys inside the lock, and the door clicked open. This was my opportunity.
Leaving my hideout, I rocked up to her. “Are you Haylie Bryceland?” I asked flat out.
Of course, the girl let out a shriek of surprise. She dropped the keys in her panic but reacted fast and snatched a baseball bat from behind the door. Huh, not a bad move. Her reflexes were astounding. Guess she had every right to be paranoid. Not that the baseball bat would help her driving off someone like me, but how was she supposed know?
The girl didn’t answer but just stood there with her wooden weapon, bracing herself for a fight she couldn’t possibly win. The way she held the handle—the knuckle of her bottom hand not pointing up the barrel, and her index finger not separated from the others—would make any baseball player do a face-palm.
I forced my thoughts back on track. She still owed me her name. And her confession.
In any case, I needed to handle the matter discreetly and avoid making a scene out here, so I repeated my question, trying to sound as calm as Jimmy. “I’m not here to hurt you.” Aren’t you? “Are you Haylie Bryceland?”
I took the steps up to the porch, and her grip tightened around the handle as if she was fighting the urge to recoil. Her lips quivered, but from the cold or from fear, I couldn’t tell. Her hood hid most of her face, but I should have been able to catch the Flare by now. And yet, her eyes hadn’t shown their natural reflection. Did I catch the wrong one?
“Why do you want to know my name?” Her voice was calmer than she felt. Demanding, even. She was walking on thin ice because tonight, I was her most formidable predator.
“I have every right to know. You are the reason he died, after all,” I growled in a deep timbre, not bothering to mention Ricky’s name. I wanted to know if she remembered it. See what it triggered in her.
Her first reaction was to backpedal with a gasp. Wrong move on her part because now I knew for a certainty that she was Haylie Bryceland—the third Natural I met in my life, right after Jenna and the sister, Shawna. All dead. Great track record, eh? And at last, the girl who was the reason Ricky was no more. To say I was stark raving mad would have been an understatement.
What she did next made me lose my cool for a moment, though. As if letting all her walls down, the bat slipped from her fingers and crashed onto the wooden panels with a loud clunk.
“Ricky,” she whispered, her tone so wistful it cracked its way right into my soul. Her hand moved to her trembling lips as if she was trying to hold in her sobs.
With a murderous glare and a wide step forward, I clutched her throat and slammed her into the nearest wall—too fast for her to react in time. Her hands flew up to mine, nails digging in in panic. I cut off her air supply with enough pressure to keep her from screaming, although I admit I was close to giving in to the need to squeeze just a little bit tighter. The world was better off without her. No… I was better off without her.
With my other hand, I yanked off the hood only to see short, piss-blonde hair. A fucking wig. Why was she wearing one?
Grabbing her chin, I bore my eyes into hers, but they were not the color I expected to see. No, it was something between gray and brown and looked completely off. On a closer look, I could make out the rim of contact lenses. A camouflage tactic. Certainly helpful to avoid attracting the Hunters’ attention. Unfortunately, not enough to avoid mine.
“I know what eye color you’re hiding behind those,” I spat, careful not to use the word ‘jaylior’. You never knew where Catchers were crawling around. Now it made sense why I couldn’t see the Flare—the lenses disrupted the natural light reflection.
My reproach made her shut her eyes and yank her head to the side—at least she tried, but my grip restrained her movements. Grabbing her wig, I yanked it off, and she cried out when it got stuck in her hair clip. Lush, glossy, dark brown hair lay underneath.
“Look at me!” I hissed at her, and she opened her eyes reluctantly. Damn, I couldn’t remove her contact lenses, but maybe it was better if I didn’t get to see myself reflected in those eyes. It would only remind me of all my failures.
First things first—I'm not an English native speaker. I live in a boring little town on the outskirts of Vienna, Austria, so probably very far away from you! I'm an avid reader and have been reading English books my entire life. When I write, I can't think in my mother tongue anymore. For a long time, this was the reason I refused to take that leap of faith into publishing, because I feared I could never compete with the others. A year later, I decided it was worth the risk, and now here I am... Crazy!
I’m a hybrid steamy/erotic romance author. Doesn’t matter if contemporary, paranormal, dystopian, or urban fantasy—I write & read them all!
Relationship status—living happily with my boyfriend, not married and no kids, yet. I have a fulltime job in marketing and wish to make a living as an author. Let's see how this will turn out in the future...
I'm too organized. Everything has its place, everything is planned. Also, I’m always busy and looking for work, which is pretty exhausting sometimes.
I have an uncanny talent for remembering faces and names, but I’m shitty when it comes to directions. I'm not kidding you, I can get lost everywhere, especially on ski slopes!
I love movies, my Kindle Reader, snowboarding, wakeboarding and sunbathing. I hate The Simpsons (I know, I’m probably the only person in the world, but I just can’t warm up to them), zombie movies, and fish (as in the food—got sick once and can't touch that stuff ever since).
That's pretty much the short version of it. If you want to know more or have the feeling you need to stalk me, find me on the usual platforms.
HOSTED BY:
No comments:
Post a Comment