Wind and Shadow by Tori L. Ridgewood
Praise for Wind and Shadow: Book One of the Talbot Trilogy…
“…a very tense, engaging and well written paranormal romance!”
“A lot of vampire books fail in the ability to make the reader suspend disbelief. Half the time because they try to make vampires sexy instead of the vile monsters they are. Ridgewood’s vampire is thoroughly evil. I like that.”
“Looking forward to the sequel…and it can’t come fast enough!”
“There is adventure, creepiness, and action that kept me very entertained, as well as some smexy to heat things up; all the elements I love in a good read. I am looking forward to the next installment…”
“What a great book!! I started reading it and I just couldn't stop. I was so drawn in the story that I lost track of time and ended up reading the book in one day…”“This was a great weekend read. I recommend it to all my vampire-loving literary friends!”
“I was amazed with this story! The way it made me question things and wonder what was going to happen next was such a great thing!”
“…for readers who want to get away and unburden themselves from everyday’s real-world strives and simply relax in a light fantasy. It has all the ingredients of a getaway read: vampires, lovers, magic.”
Rayvin Woods, photographer and natural witch. She just wanted to start her life over again after a series of misadventures. She didn't count on rekindling a lost love when she came home to Talbot…or battling a malevolent vampire and his coven for her life.
Grant Michaels, police officer. He thought Rayvin was a murderer. He will do whatever it takes to protect the community he loves from danger…but will he learn to trust his heart, and the word of a witch, before it's too late?
Malcolm de Sade, cunning vampire, imprisoned underground for a year by Charlotte Fanning and Pike Mahonen (“Mist and Midnight”, Midnight Thirsts). His accidental release unleashes his hunger and ambition on a small, sleepy town…
Facing the past can be a nightmare. It's worse when a vampire is stalking you.
Rayvin’s teeth were grinding together. The pretty little waitress, her head cocked while she smacked her gum and smiled saucily, didn’t know with whom she was dealing. Rayvin’s hand itched to wipe those too-red lips off her freckly face; her magick boiled inside her, making the room spin slightly with its intensity. Maybe the little bitch wanted those braces to be permanently glued to her teeth? Or every freckle to spontaneously morph into ugly, enormous, oozing pimples?
Rayvin had had enough of being nice. She had held her tongue while Asshole Wilson had made his insinuations, in front of everyone. She had been good, waiting with utmost patience while Grant Michaels, of all people, had risen somewhat to her defense. He had impressed her, just when she didn’t want to feel or be impressed, which put her in even more of a bad mood. Everyone kept assuming they knew everything, just like this dumb bitch behind the counter, who had smiled blandly when Rayvin had tried explaining her relationship to Andrea.
“Sorry, I don’t know you, I wasn’t on shift last night.” She snapped her gum. That particular habit had always driven Rayvin crazy. “I could lose my job if I let you have the necklace.”
“Is the assistant manager here?”
Snap. Chew. “Nope. Sorry. She’s busy.”
“Look, maybe I haven’t made myself clear—” Rayvin checked her name tag. “Susan.”
“Suzie.” She smiled brightly, flipping a long brown pigtail over her shoulder and thrusting her shirt forward.
“Whatever. You don’t seem to understand—”
“Hey, there, Suzie-Q!” Michaels eased his way between Rayvin and the counter. Inwardly, she seethed at his interference and at herself for feeling relieved. She had already fought this battle with herself; she did not need his help. So why was her breast still tingling where his chest had brushed against it while moving her aside?
As he smoothly explained the situation, again, Rayvin crossed her arms and scowled at the patrons watching with interest. Once more, she was getting attention that she neither needed nor wanted. Tapping her foot to focus some of her negativity, she looked away as Michaels continued to flirt with the girl behind the counter.
Susie was now leaning against her arms to reveal her assets at their best angle, beaming up at the tall dark off-duty cop who had to be twice her age. Her giggles clawed up Rayvin’s back. She saw a dimple flicker within the light dusting of bristle on Michaels’ face as he grinned down on the little girl.
She couldn’t look away. She’d seen him grin like that before, for his friends, but not for her. Her heart ached, remembering a flash of a grin she’d thought was directed toward her in high school. And the crushing embarrassment when she’d realized he was looking at someone behind her. It was ridiculous, really, that the man had this ability to affect her in this way, after ten years. Stupid.
Impatiently pacing to the door and back, she couldn’t decide what irritated her more; the entirely age-inappropriate crushing going on, or her reaction to it. Her hackles had gone up in a decidedly defensive manner. It shouldn’t matter that he wasn’t interested. He’d made the boundaries in their relationship painfully clear. She shouldn’t even use the word, ‘relationship.’ She was essentially a subject in an investigation, and the enemy of his best friend. And yet she needed him to get what Andrea needed. Michaels could talk to people in a way that she could not, and it was clearly working. She grudgingly appreciated the effort, on Andrea’s behalf, but still . . . did he have to be so obvious?
As long as he was able to get the necklace, then they could go their separate ways, and she wouldn’t have to watch him smiling at a pretty girl. She wouldn’t have to pretend that he might, in some small way, want to move forward. His offer of coffee had felt like a truce of sorts, and for a moment she had nearly believed that they were just two ordinary individuals, catching up after years of separation. But as much as she wanted to believe in the possibility and enjoy something of a reunion, or something more, because she had to admit that the man made her weak in the knees and always had, she knew it could never happen. There was too much history between them. Now, there was too much at stake. Whatever heartache and loneliness she might feel, she would have to bury it, for Andrea’s sake.
Rayvin swallowed her feelings, and resumed her post behind Grant, glowering at her former high school crush and the flirtatious waitress.
The door opened again, this time admitting an icy wind as well as an individual in dirty jeans and a torn and grimy black jacket. He pulled the door shut firmly against the breeze. Rayvin couldn’t see his face for the curtain of greasy black hair under his dismal grey trucker’s cap.
The patrons closest to the entrance reacted to the unexpected gust of cold air, grabbing for their coats and scarves. The newcomer stood by the door, rubbing his grubby hands vigorously. It was a hint of the winter to come, Rayvin reflected, shivering through her own thick woollen sweater. If it was as cold as that wind suggested, she was going to have an uncomfortable journey home, whether it was walking or riding with Officer Michaels. Constable Michaels. Whatever he was called now. She rubbed her arms, waiting for the brief burst of chill to dissipate with the warmth of the restaurant.
In fact, as waitress Suzie twirled her hair around her finger and dipped below the counter to retrieve the necklace for Michaels, Rayvin noticed a distinct odour pervading the room. A couple behind her left off eating their soup, noses wrinkled wrinkling in distaste.
“Does it seem darker in here to you?” Michaels asked.
Before Rayvin could respond, Suzie called out, “Do you have a penlight or something? I can’t see down here.”
Obligingly, Michaels removed the tool from an inner coat pocket, and turned around.
Rayvin had noticed that the lights seemed dim, and the small votive candles on each table were giving off faint blue hues. Not that any of the diners picked up on their supernatural glow; they were putting on coats or sweaters against the chill that continued to spread, or using menus and napkins to try wafting away the stink that ruined their appetites.
She stepped toward the stranger who had walked in, sensing the source of the problem. For a brief instant, as he lifted his chin, her eyes met his in the shadow under the brim of his filthy hat.
Suddenly, it felt like the walls were closing in; the world tilted around her, her head pounded, and her vision exploded. Sickening lights and horrifying, demonic faces leered at her as the floor slanted under her feet. The breath left her lungs in a whoosh, as though she’d been punched in the stomach. Rayvin reached out, blindly, hands grasping for something solid, and found Michaels’ arm.
“We have to get out of here, now,” she whispered, clutching his wrist.
She turned her head away from the shadows and that elongated and loomed over her to gesture at the door, where the decorative lights shimmered and stretched into a matrix of fantastic threads snaking through the air to bind and trap her. They blinded her against the dark figure, but she could hear his malevolent laughter. It echoed all around her, drowning out the words she knew Grant was speaking; she could feel his chest against her back, an island of stability in the chaos, rumbling gently as he spoke. Her knees trembled, nearly giving way under the onslaught. The arm encircling her waist took her off-guard, and she fought against it at first, until touch revealed it to be Michaels’ muscle, sinew, and bone holding her steady.
As one, they moved toward the entrance. His grip tightened as Rayvin staggered under the weight of the malevolence bearing down on her. Black, dark, evil energy sank down along her shoulders and spine, cloaking her with icy tendrils and muffling her senses even as her feet shuffled toward the threshold, until she felt the contours of the door under her palms. The vile blanket lifted from her with the first brushes of crisp, fresh air against her face; she tilted her chin up, letting the calming breeze wash over her eyelids, her nose, and her lips. Exhaling, she let him steer her down the sidewalk a few paces. She felt like a swimmer who’d barely escaped drowning. Stopping at a low stone wall, Rayvin leaned her elbows against its frosty, pitted rough surface, and immediately missed the warmth of Michaels’ touch when his hand let go of her body.
“What the hell happened in there?” Michaels was standing a step away, his hands fisted on his hips.
She looked up, rubbing the back of her hand against her forehead. The pain banding her skull from temple to temple was starting to ease, but when she opened her eyes, halos of energy stood in bright relief around the living entities and made her head ache anew. Michaels moved into her field of vision. She flinched, but instead of the burst of agony she was expecting, his aura flooded her with calm. He stepped closer, and with relief, she felt herself opening to his vibration, warm and healing. She felt his concern, his confusion and frustration, and more.
“I . . .” Rayvin hesitated, unable to hold his gaze. She looked back the way they had come, down the sidewalk at the seemingly ordinary restaurant. Another couple was just coming through the doors, holding hands and laughing, oblivious to whatever had attacked her.
“It’s hard to explain. I felt something . . . wrong, really wrong. Something powerful, that came at me, like it was attacking me, or about to. It wasn’t safe to stay. I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe . . .” She shuddered, bowing her head, and felt him move a step closer.
“Well, I thought you were going to faint,” Michaels noted. “And you’re still pale. Are you on anything? Any medications, herbs, or . . .” He cut off when she glared at him blearily. “What you experienced could logically be the result of a hallucinogen of some kind.”
Cradling her chin, he pulled out the penlight again to check her pupils. She jerked her head, trying to get away, but he refused to let go. The touch of his hand made her breath come more quickly. The sensation of his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin, just below her jawline, weakened her defences. Or was it his nearness, the way his eyes met hers, his lips so close to her own that hers trembled in response? Rayvin’s stomach was still clenching in reaction to fear, and her fingers were numb with shock; her instinct was tearing her in three directions. She wanted to run back in and fight the creature. She wanted to run for her own life. And she wanted to stay right here in the safety of this man’s arms.
She would never know who moved first.
Her eyes closed as his mouth covered hers, yielding to the hand that cupped her face and tilted it back. Her fingers touched his chest, exploring the contours of the warm muscle hidden under the soft flannel work shirt. Heat blossomed between her thighs as she felt his heartbeat quicken. He moved closer, settling into the space between her legs as their kiss deepened.
Author's Website and Social Media Links
Follow me on Twitter! @ToriLRidgewood
Subscribe to my blog, Romance and Other Dangers
Join me on Facebook!
Be a fan on Goodreads!
And join me on Manic Readers.