I know you all have been waiting patiently for the next installment in the Dark Destiny Series. In a few days, I’ll be doing the official cover reveal and announcing the release date (which is very soon, I promise!). For now, I thought I’d go ahead and share the first two chapters of the novel. Hope you enjoy!
When a man has too much time on his hands, and he’s trying his best not to think of a certain troublesome woman in his life, he must find some sort of distraction. Over the last few weeks, while avoiding the aforementioned woman, Bartol had turned to an old hobby—one that came from a time before electricity and modern machinery—back in the days when a man used his bare hands and simple tools for crafting his work. And if he did a reasonably good job, he might even make a little money for his efforts. Carpentry had been his trade off and on for many centuries whenever he had the spare time or needed a little extra cash.
When Bartol had gotten the brilliant idea to start up his old hobby again, it had seemed simple enough. Build a table, some chairs, perhaps a desk—easy. Of course, he’d had to construct a workshop first since there was hardly enough space in his cabin, but that hadn’t been too difficult despite the cold Alaskan weather. And as a nephilim—half angel and half human—who’d lived more than eighteen-hundred years, Bartol had the strength of dozens of humans to speed up the process. It had kept him busy and helped keep Cori from his mind—the woman who’d become his bonded mate and then rejected him.
Bartol sighed deeply and ran a brush over the chair, staining the wood a deep russet color. It would be beautiful when it was done, maybe his best work yet. Working his way over the high back, similar to the Victorian style, he recalled what had first driven him to learn such a trade. It was, ironically, to impress women. He didn’t impress them now, most especially his mate, with his scars and reclusive behavior, but at least the work served a more important purpose.
He’d discovered how much humans would pay for unique pieces, and he’d found someone in Fairbanks willing to sell the furniture for him to local customers as well as others across the country. The first piece he’d put on the market, a desk, had netted him over a thousand dollars. It was a start to rebuilding the fortune he’d lost while locked away in Purgatory for more than a century. If one must be confined as a prisoner for a long period, it was a bad idea to do it just before the economy went into shambles and a recession started. Most of his investments were lost, and he’d had no idea it was happening until it was too late.
So now Bartol was starting over and taking whatever jobs he could. The archangels were paying him a fair wage for his assistance in training a young nerou crossbreed—Tormod—who had both angel and demon blood, as well as a little something else, but that job would run out in a few months. He needed to have something else in place before then.
Plus, Bartol didn’t want to rely on the archangels any more than necessary, especially since they were the ones who’d confined him to Purgatory in the first place and caused him to lose nearly everything. They might regret the severity of their punishment now that they knew he wasn’t as guilty as they’d thought, but it didn’t undo the damage. Bartol had been tortured both physically and psychologically during that time and scarred for life. He would never be the same man again, which was likely why Cori had rejected him. She had to see he wasn’t worth her time or energy.
A shuffling noise came from just outside the workshop. He’d almost missed it with the blowing wind hitting the walls and windows as yet another snow storm passed through. If not for a wood-burning stove nearby, it would have been freezing inside.
Bartol stiffened and slowly turned on his stool. Only a few people knew about this private escape deep in the woods, and none of them were expected. Tormod had the day off to spend with his mother, no friends had mentioned dropping by for a visit, and Cori had yet to discover his shop since he’d constructed the building well out of sight from his cabin, and he hadn’t spoken to her since before it was built anyway.
As the door slid open, a large, muscular figure appeared with snow swirling around him. His body blocked what little light was available on such a gloomy day as he entered the workshop. It took a moment for Bartol’s eyes to make out the chiseled features of his oldest rival and closest friend.
“Caius,” he said, standing. “It’s been a long time.” More than two centuries, in fact.
The older nephilim chuckled and moved forward to stand under the solitary light bulb hanging from the ceiling. “Too long.”
“How did you find me?” Bartol hadn’t exactly advertised his current whereabouts to the supernatural world, considering all he wanted was solitude since returning to Earth.
“Word travels, my friend, especially after what you did to get yourself thrown in Purgatory. People pay attention. Continue reading