Tortured Souls – Book two of The Soul Guide series is up for pre-order (release date is 21st October 2017). This book has been both a joy to write and really difficult. On the one hand I know the characters a lot better, on the other hand those characters have a mind of their own and kept taking the story off into places I didn’t expect!
If you would like to pre-order now, please click on the book cover below.
Estelle had lost all control of her body. No matter how hard she willed her legs to move, to run towards the open door, she was stuck fast, an unwilling statue. Her frantic screams were lost on silent lips. She could no more scream for her life than she could move to save it.
She wished she had listened to her gut, to the warning bell that had peeled through her head when she had first laid eyes on him all those weeks ago. He had seemed so lost, so encumbered with grief and she could not resist the pull of his hopelessness. She had watched him from afar for days, ruminating on the best way to approach him. When she had finally plucked up the courage she had been met with a dazzling self-assurance that had confused her as it hypnotised her. He had been an enigma, had become her muse and despite her gut she had trusted him.
How wrong had she been?
Now she was here in this place, under his spell, and in mortal danger.
As if hearing her thoughts, the striking woman with the midnight blue hair, so dark it was almost black, sashayed over to her. In other circumstances, Estelle would’ve appreciated such beauty, her artist’s eye already taking in the slant of the woman’s eyes, the cruel curve of her lips, the straight, regal nose. She would have painted the woman in the safety of her studio back home in Paris, and it would have been magnificent. Estelle knew she was gifted, that her ability to bring life to her artwork was otherworldly. Something the finest of artists worked years for and even then, never managed to obtain. Yet, she was a child still, just seventeen and her gift was beginning to emerge like the sun between parted clouds.
Her benefactor had known it, had recognised her gift long before anyone had begun to suspect what she could do. He had guided Estelle, provided her with the physical tools she needed to produce such extraordinary art, but more importantly taught her how to control her gift before it controlled her. He had shielded Estelle, had given her space and a haven to explore such talent. He had done it all despite the cancer that was eating him from the inside out, despite the wretched pain he endured until his last breath.
Now she would never have the chance to fulfil her true potential. She would never again feel the firm warmth of a paintbrush in her grasp, the flow of paint over a blank canvas, or the feeling of freedom when she bought her art to life.
She was trapped. She was going to die. And there was nothing she could do about it.