A Stream of DarknessCrymsen Crescent
Book One
Avery Kilpatrick
Genre: Urban Fantasy, New Adult with a dash of romance
Publisher: Avery Kilpatrick
Date of Publication: July 31, 2020
ISBN:
ASIN:
Word Count: 62,358
Cover Artist: Warren Design
Book Description:
Book Description:
A reformed killer, a dragon agent, and a lone shifter must work together to investigate four abductions…
I've always had a close relationship with death.
Six years ago, I was the Renegade, the Wolf of Eden, terrorizing the streets of a small town in Mississippi. Now, after a plea deal that saved my life, I work for the police as a consultant and unofficial cop.
Obsidian Moon, the Underworlder police agency, isn't doing anything about the disappearances of four college women. It falls to my shoulders while I'm stressing over my college assignments and the new transfer who thinks testing my control is a great pasttime.
Then there's him. The mystery shifter who danced with me at a club and reminds me of home. And he seems to be more than just a random stranger who walked up to an ex-murderer and danced rather than fight.
But I have bigger concerns than two sexy men on my tail as a stream of darkness hangs over Paradise Grove.
The opening of a new series, A Stream of Darkness, will have you guessing at every turn and turning the pages to learn more.
Excerpt:
I sidestepped
the ramming bull—well, technically, he was a werewolf—and watched with growing
amusement as he slammed into the bar.
As one of the
more prominent clubs on the Quad, Mirage was filled to the brim with writhing
bodies hypnotized by the pulsing music that resounded from the DJ’s throne. The
walls thrummed with the powerful beats and siren acoustics coaxed people into
drowning themselves in alcohol. Flashing lights of gold and sapphire, of ruby
and amethyst, of emerald and topaz, cast colorful shadows on the clubbers who
watched the growing brawl in amusement and fear.
I cocked my head
to the side and ebony-gray curls swayed to the left as mint eyes burned like a
raging pyre as I watched him stumble to his feet. A Cheshire Cat smirk pulled
my lips back over elongated canines that gleamed under the colorful neon
lights. “Olé!”
The bar, a mix
of black quartz and wood, won this round as it remained unharmed. The werewolf
shook his head, the tightly braided red curls bouncing lightly against the left
side of his skull. His jade eyes were glazed in confusion and there were flecks
of pale yellow from the wolf peering through his gaze as his temper grew
shorter. He held a hand to his side and attempted to take a deep breath only to
hiss quietly. Though wolves, like most Underworlders, could heal themselves
through either magic or blood, it took time to fix fractured bones. His
linebacker build didn’t help matters either as he held out another hand to grip
the bar to steady himself.
He snarled, a
rumbling sound that probably caused him more pain than he let on. Our audience
murmured as the less than sober patrons realized that the scar dominating my
face wasn’t just any old scar from a run-in gone awry. Flowing from my left jaw
to the bridge of my nose, the puckered, jagged scar was as much a moniker as a
reminder of my “sin.”
“Mind givin’ me
another shot, Izzy?” I drawled, my gaze never once leaving the wolf in front of
me as we circled each other.
Izzy was already
working on my drink before the last word left my mouth. Her hands flashed after
working for years as a bartender on the fast-paced Quad, and she wasn’t at all
bothered by the brawl in front of her. “I should be cutting you off, Luce, but
since alcohol doesn’t effect you—what the hell, right?”
Pink eyes
remained amused as she watched the crowd around us groan while money exchanged
hands. She had her long, straight platinum locks pulled into a ponytail as two
square strips caressed the sides of her sharp cheeks. Placing the shot glass on
the tabletop, she placed a fifty-dollar bill beside it with a good-natured
grumble.
I chuckled, and
the redheaded wolf took the momentary distraction as a chance to tackle me.
Sidestepping him, I placed my hands on his back—barely a brush of my
fingertips—and slammed my knee into his abdomen. The crunch of bone and the
wheeze of air as a rib punctured his lung reached my ears, and my glittering
eyes narrowed as he collapsed at my feet with a groan. Either he was truly a
newbie with fighting a petite woman like me, or he was attacking with emotion rather
than logical reasoning.
As my father
would say, he was fighting for his pride and not for survival.
Heading to the
bar to collect my shot, I tossed it back with a hearty sigh as the burn slid
down my throat. Without me asking, Izzy refilled my glass, and I repeated the
action before slamming the shot down on the bar as stumbling steps reached my
ears over the roar of the music and drunken crowd. Sighing, I glanced over a
narrow shoulder to see the wolf clutching his side as blood dripped from his
bottom lip. He just would not accept defeat, no matter how much bigger a
predator I was.
“Look,
sourpuss,” I adjusted the fingerless gloves on my hands and rolled the sleeves
of my leather jacket to my elbows. Pulling my thick, ebony curls behind me, I
continued, “I’d hate to kill your pride in front of all these people, but I’ll
gladly do it if you’re raring for a good ol’ fight.”
Glaring at me,
he clenched his teeth at the calm indifference in my voice as I was not at all
intimidated by his hulking form or the flecks of gold in his eyes. He towered
over my five-two frame and I looked like a sixteen-year-old girl with a blunt
mouth that got me into trouble, but I wasn’t joking around this time.
About the Author:
Avery Kilpatrick was born in Flowood, Mississippi, in April 1996. Raised in a small town in the Mississippi Delta, she has a fondness for nature and the cotton fields that create Southern snow pastures in the fall. After writing her first novel when she was thirteen, Avery decided to pursue her dream as an author at a young age.
An alumnus of Delta State University in Cleveland, Mississippi, Avery graduated with a Bachelor’s in English. She also worked on the student-run newspaper, The Delta Statement, during her four-year career at Delta State as copy-editor and Editor-in-Chief.
Avery currently lives in a ranch-style home in her hometown in Greenwood, Mississippi. The mother of three fur babies, Cinnamon the spoiled cat, Ginger the rambunctious old lady, and Remington a.k.a. Remi the service dog, Avery has enough fur from shedding animals to make a fourth pet. When Avery isn’t busy writing her next novel, she goes on walks with her mother and dogs, watches Outlander or Criminal Minds on Netflix, or can be found curled up on the couch with Cinnamon reading a good book.
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Website: https://averykilpatrick.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/avekilpatrick
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2 comments:
Thanks for posting! :)
My conquerors in real life are definitely for being true so very well-bred also such a traditional. I would sum it up this way: the life lesson she would say is be courteous while you're breaking the rules.
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