Book two of the Sisters of Hex series – Accacia’s Blood has been released. I am in love with Accacia and her vampire men; Rhain, Ezra and Devin and I hope you’ll love them too. Below is an excerpt from book two.
Without saying a word, Ezra takes my hand in his and guides me through the darkness. Part of me wants to pull away, the other part knows that would be stupid. I am, for all intents and purposes, blind. A small voice in the back of my head keeps pointing out the fact that my palm appears to be tingling under his touch, but I refuse to acknowledge why. Shaking these new feelings aside, I clutch the locater stone tighter in my free hand. Even though I have only known Nostra a short time, I have faith in his ability as a witch. Rhain, Ezra and Devin found me because of him, why wouldn’t I be able to locate Clover now? It gives me hope that we will find Rhain and Devin too. The thought that we could lose them to the fae is too unbearable to even comprehend and I refuse to believe that it might be a possibility, just like I refuse to believe we won’t find Clover.
Since the Claiming I have felt a growing connection with Rhain, one I am not willing to think too deeply about right now. Devin too, in a different, but no less significant way. Just like Ezra, I care about them both and I’m not willing to lose either of them to the Forbidden forest and the fae.
“Lights damn it.” Ezra suddenly winces, stopping abruptly. He steadies himself against a tree and takes some deep breaths. His hand is trembling in mine. I reach out towards him, my fingers grazing the skin on his cheek. He is burning hot.
“Ezra…” I start.
“Don’t touch me!” he snaps. My hand falls away.
“This is because you won’t take my blood, isn’t it?”
He ignores me, pulling his hand free from mine.
“I know we haven’t seen eye to eye, but I can’t see you in pain, Ezra. Please, just take my blood. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“I will not,” he grinds out.
“I know you said if you take my blood it will mean that we are joined, like you and Thalia once were. But I won’t hold you to it. The Joining is sacred, I understand that. I understand the way you feel about her, that you don’t wish to replace her. Ezra, you might be an infuriating, stubborn, obnoxious man but I won’t watch you die. Do you hear me? I will not.”
“Just give me a moment. This feeling will pass momentarily.” His words are lost to a scream that he has trouble keeping in. I can hear him slide to the forest floor and I blindly feel for him in front of me until I am kneeling between his parted legs.
“My God, Ezra, if I had known… This is getting worse.”
He lets out another roar of pain as he reaches for me, clawing at my clothes. I react on instinct and pull him to my chest, holding him as tightly as he is holding me. The cries of his pain shake me to the core and I find myself crying freely, rocking him in my arms like a mother would their child. “Shh, Ezra. I am here. I won’t let you go.”
Another scream rips from his mouth and I know that nothing but my blood will stop this. And yet, he’d rather suffer this all-consuming pain than take my blood and be joined with me. It angers me. I can feel the rejection ripping at my guts, even though I have no right to feel that way. I just want to take his pain away. I want him to let me.
“The pain. Accacia, the pain. I don’t think I can take it.” He turns his head and screams into my chest. It is an ungodly sound, like a wild animal caught in a hunter’s trap. I can feel the warmth of his tears against the bare skin of my neck as my own drip into his hair.
“Ezra, take my blood,” I cry, a sob escaping my throat. I feel helpless, so damn helpless. He shakes his head fiercely, pulling away from me.
“I. WILL. NOT!” He attempts to push me off his lap, but in his weakened state I manage to stay where I am.
“Damn it, why, Ezra? Let me help you.” I grab his face between my hands, barely able to discern the outline of his face. “Let me help you,” I repeat, softer this time. Even in his weakened state I know that he can see how distraught I am. Still he shakes his head.
I don’t know if it is the desperation of his voice, the pain in it, or the deep ache in my own chest but I close the distance between us and press my mouth against his. For a split second, he does nothing, he just allows my lips to graze against his as more pain rips through his body.
“Please,” I say into his mouth, my own tears mingling with his. A strange noise slips from his lips, the sound caught between a cry of pain and a moan of desire.
“No,” he says. But instead of pulling away he grabs the back of my head and kisses me like the dying man that he is. I pour all my anger, my frustration, my heartache into the kiss and hope he understands that come hell or high water I will never allow him to die. One way or the other he will take my blood.