Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Dangerous Choices prologue! Release this Friday!

Howdy readers!
I've just gotten the details on Dangerous Revelations, and the reviews are starting to come in. I love when people read my books and fall in love with the characters.
It makes me very happy.

So happy, that I'm giving you the full prologue to the second book, and telling you that I'm going to release book two earlier. I'm thinking Friday. I hate that some of you are up all night and suffering at work, so I'll drop it on a day where you can stay up and not be zombies in the workplace!

Here's the prologue!

We’ll find you Flynn…
                   Wherever you are.


© Copyright 2015 by Morgan Kelley LLC All rights  reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or in an information storage or retrieval system without written consent from the author. All characters are fictional and any similarity to real life or individuals is coincidental.
                 ∞ Prologue ∞
Turning his head to scan the darkness which surrounded him, he sought out the woman who was hunting him.
Her vile scent was unmistakable.
The air around him was fragranced with the smell of gardenias. Oh, how he hated that nauseating stench. It turned his stomach, making him want to wretch. The perfume was so heavy in the air that it reminded him of a funeral.
Everything about it was overpowering, but that was exactly what she wanted. There was no doubt in his mind that she longed to greedily drink in his fear.
All of this was quite obvious.
For this to work for her, the prey needed to be well aware that he was going to be her victim. The vicious bitch was tracking him to his demise. It was her pleasure to play with his mind and, if she caught him, his body.
She was sick, vicious, and out for blood. Unfortunately for her, he couldn’t let her win.
Not now.
Not ever.
He had a family to consider, and his duty was with the woman who owned his soul. If the predator were to catch him, it would be a dagger to his love’s heart.
Their family would crumble, and they would be broken.
That’s why Flynn Brogan had to keep going.
With each step through the fog, he searched for the one way to escape her. As long as he kept trying, ultimately, his death wouldn’t be in vain. The doom enveloped him as he fought valiantly for hope and love.
As if by magic, her name was gone from his mind.
It was like someone was taking away all his memories of her.
No, it wasn’t just her. It was all of them.
The harder he tried to whisper her name, the more difficult it became. It wouldn’t roll from his tongue, but instead burrowed deeper into his mind.
There was no choice.
He had to fight.
Deep down, he knew that if he gave up, it would all be over for him. His heart was telling him to fight on, while his brain told him to quit.
It was hopeless.
Why couldn’t he remember her name or face?
Now, everything about her was slipping away too.
Before this moment, surely it had been burned into his soul for all time, and now…
It was missing.
“Come on,” he muttered, as he fought hard to recall her name. It was right there on the tip of his tongue, waiting for his mouth and brain to work together.
If he could just say it, everything would be okay. Flynn was sure of it. All it would take is calling for her, and this would all go away.
She would save him.
The last piece of her beautiful face slipped from his mind, taken so he couldn’t hold onto any hope. It wavered, and then faded from his thoughts.
It was getting harder and harder to think straight.
“Run, Detective!” came her hideously sweet voice. “Run for your pathetic life.”
Her words were like nails on a chalkboard, and he refused to look back. For now, he needed to keep going forward.
There was no way he’d give her the satisfaction of a victory.
As far as he was concerned, he had to get to her, no matter what obstacles stood in the way. His heart demanded it. If he trusted in that alone, he’d be okay.
It was all Flynn had to cling to.
“Damn it! Think!” he muttered to himself, as he kept trudging through knee-deep sludge. It swirled around him in a pungent, bubbling brew, threatening to pull him under. He couldn’t let that happen. Locked in this nightmare, he feared what lived above the water, let alone what was waiting beneath.
“What’s wrong, Detective? Are you feeling a little lost?” she asked, laughing maniacally. 
With each word, there were cold, icy fingers brushing down his spine, wrapping around him. It choked him as tears filled his eyes. Flynn was being bombarded with so much hate, anger, and fear, that it was making each step painful.
Already, his will was weakening.
He didn't have much left.
Soon, he would be forced to wish for death.
Brogan tripped, falling face first into the sludge. It pulled him under as he fought to resurface for air. Something intimately brushed his body beneath the murky mire, and he tensed. So much fear was now gripping him as tentative fingers touched his left leg, and then his hip.
Breaking the surface, he fought to get away. As he opened his eyes and cleared the sludge from his face, a strangled sound escaped his throat. Flynn was almost too afraid to look at what was surfacing around him, but he could hear the water churning.
It was coming for him.
He knew it.
As he looked down, his worst fears materialized in the sludge around him.
Floating in the water were corpses.
There were so many tiny broken bodies of children with no life left in them.
He wanted to weep.
Flynn needed to scream.
No, he longed to beg.
But instead, he fought on, refusing to succumb to her madness.
“Christ,” he hissed, trying not to touch them as they floated by with their dead eyes watching him. Flynn silently began pleading for help. In his heart, he knew she wouldn’t let him die like this.
Would she?
What was her name?
“What’s wrong, Detective? Does death bother you?” she asked, mocking him wickedly. He was her prey, and soon she would even the score.
It would be his life for the one she lost.
It only seemed fair.
Brogan scrambled away from the floating corpses to head to the bank of land which appeared at his left. He knew he had to get out of the water or he would lose his mind.
That was her intent, and he couldn’t let her win.
He wasn’t done yet.
There was still hope.
            The broken bodies began calling from the water, “Help us, Detective! Save us!” They reached for him, brushing his stomach and hips as he struggled to escape their watery grave. He shook off one clinging child, finally stumbling out of the water. On the ground, Flynn crawled like a crab to escape their tiny fingers, as the little voices pleaded for his help.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he mumbled over and over again, watching them float away in the murky water. Flynn knew that he was helpless to stop or help them. For now, his survival had to come first.
He needed to live.
For the first time in his career, he chose to be selfish. There was no way he was going back into the water for the dead. It wasn’t happening.
Laughter filled the air, ripping down his flesh like sharp thorns in bramble.
“You’ll be sorry, Detective.”
The voice slithered around him, making his heart jump in his chest. The sick laughter choked the air from his lungs, squeezing the breath from his body.
He was dying.
Scrambling to his feet, Flynn needed to put space between him and the watery grave. As he glanced up the muddy hill, he saw the trees and had hope.
He’d take a foot race through the woods any day.
Despite the odds, there was no other choice. Hope was waning as the predator’s laughter filled his ears and head.
Who would save him?
She would.
He was sure of it.
Now, if he could only call out her name. It would act as a talisman out of this hell. Closing his eyes, Flynn tried to picture her beautiful face to use it as a beacon home.
He stumbled over something again, as the last of his energy was depleted, draining from his body. He was so tired and didn’t think he could take another step. Brogan didn’t want to wade through death anymore. He just wanted to find her. In his heart, he knew that she would offer him comfort and peace.
He knew it.
“Please save me,” he whispered with so much pain and emotion in his voice.
“She can’t get to you, Detective. You’re mine now.”
 Flynn heard the footsteps coming toward him, but his body was too heavy to care. He looked down toward his feet and saw the bodies of the children. The corpses were dragging themselves from the river and across the mud. They were closing the distance with their dead eyes focused on him.
Flynn knew the truth.
Ultimately, he would die by their hands.
“No!” he screamed hoarsely, as he tried to move out of their reach. His head pounded as more sick laughter inundated him, wave after wave.
“Please help me!” he called to her.
Only he knew the truth.
She couldn’t hear him.
Shaking his head, he tried to break the invisible bonds holding him against his will. Then, he saw the evil bitch materialize in front of him. All the energy shifted around him at her approach.
“We meet again, Detective. You should have let me kill her, and then you could have saved yourself. She isn't worth it, and now you’ll pay.”
Over his dead body would he let that happen. Despite this bitch’s words, he knew the truth. Flynn Brogan would die to keep his woman safe and out of this evil vampyre’s reach.
She stepped toward him, kicking the crawling dead children out of her way as if they were nothing. The sickening crunch of bone and brittle limbs filled the air, as they fell like broken dolls. Yet, still more of the lost kept crawling from the stagnant water toward him, refusing to give up their mission.
Flynn knew he was screwed.
 “Who do you want to kill?” he begged, praying for a clue. He knew she would save him if he could just remember her name.
Think damn it and remember!
 “I need your mistress to pay. She killed my only precious child, and I need to make her suffer. By stealing away what she loves, I can have my revenge. What choice do I have?”
“You have a choice,” Flynn hissed, as he watched her take a dagger from her sleeve. The woman and her army of dead children crept toward him. Their little fleshless hands began pulling at his clothes, as their skinless lips smacked in hunger at the possible meal.
 “No, God! No!” he whispered hoarsely. It couldn’t end like this. Surely, this wasn’t destined to be his final moments. Brogan closed his eyes and used every ounce of his energy to focus on his woman. He sent out a silent plea to her, taking one last chance that she would hear him.
He couldn’t remember her name, but Flynn knew she existed. It would have to be enough.
 “She won’t come for you. She can’t save you, Detective.”
  The children were digging their nails into his body and pain tore through him. The little claws of bone were ripping holes in his arms and legs to find leverage on their climb up his frame.
They were trying to get to his throat.
When he stared at the closest one, he saw that their human teeth were gone, and sharp, pointy fangs had emerged.
They were going to drink him dry.
Brogan was about to give in to it all, letting the horrors win. He was too weak to carry on.
He was lost.
There was no choice but to let it all go.
Just as he whispered goodbye to the nameless woman he loved, there was warmth. It covered him, wrapping around his body in a gentle cocoon. Then, there was her beautiful French tinged voice, and it was the sweetest sound to his ears. She was calling for him from the darkness to be his salvation.
“Please help me,” he begged in response to the warmth.
“Flynn, come to me,” she called, love flooding from her voice to offer him peace.
He opened his eyes and stared down at the dead who were digging into his body. Just her essence was forcing them to scatter and scamper away. Flynn knew that this wasn’t a figment of his imagination.
He could trust her.
She was the one.
This woman was his love.
Glancing up at the hideous killer, he watched as she loomed over him. Her face contorted into an ugly mask of hate. In her cold black eyes, he saw anger and destruction. It was then that her intent was clear. Flynn watched as she lifted the dagger to end his life, and fear flooded back into his body.
“Flynn, come to us,” the voice said, offering peace and the only way out of the nightmare.
The name slid into his mind and out between clenched teeth. He heard the woman in front of him scream at the realization that the prey was no longer hers. The dagger started its descent downward in a sickening arch, aimed right at his heart.
“Wake, Flynn. NOW!” she called urgently.
He felt himself being jerked back to consciousness, just as the cold metal of the dagger began piercing his flesh. He fought to sit upright, but his arms were pinned to his sides by some force stronger than him. He opened his eyes fully expecting to look into the face of death, but it was peace which stared back at him.
“Jolie?” he asked again, his voice cracking. Here stood the darkest angel he had ever seen, and she was straddling his body.
He didn't wait.
Sitting upright, Flynn went into her arms and against her body, like a scared child who needed comforting.
 “Flynn, you had us terrified,” she whispered into his ear, as she lovingly stroked his strong back and silky black hair. He was clutched to her chest, holding on for dear life. Jolie left kisses across his flesh in an effort to reassure him that he was indeed safe.
Her heart pounded against his. 
 “Oh God! That was horrible!” He shook uncontrollably against her as Jolie’s hands soothed away all his fears. Flynn stared at the second vampyre sitting beside them as he ran his hand gently over Flynn’s leg in comfort.
“It’s okay, my friend. You’re safe,” promised Jacques, his serene, green eyes offering sympathy.
“We’re here, Flynn. You’re safe now.”
Brogan lay back, still clutching on to her tightly. As he came to rest against the pillows on their shared bed, Jolie curled protectively around him. 
“I have you, Flynn. I won’t leave you,” Jolie offered.
Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the scent of her expensive French bath oils. Instantly, the fragrance began erasing the horrible memories that were replaying in his head. As he buried his face in her throat, she placed as much of her body against him as possible. His Jolie was acting like a warm, protective blanket.
“What happened, Flynn?” she asked.
“She was in my dreams,” he finally said, when the calming ministration began to relax him.
“Who is ‘she’, Flynn? We heard you call for us, and it took us a while to get to you. What happened? What was scaring you so much and keeping you from us?” Jolie inquired.
He relaxed as they both moved to protectively frame his body, building a buffer from anything that wanted to hurt him. The closeness gave him peace.
This was his family.
Flynn had survived, and now he could tell them what he’d learned. Someone had to give them the bad news, and it needed to be him.
“She’s back for you-for us.”
“She?” repeated Jacques, already sure he knew the answer to his own question.
“Genevieve,” he whispered, as if saying her name was forbidden and would conjure the monster into their room.
Silence shrouded them.
Jolie had no doubt that this day would come.
It had only been a matter of time.
Now, it would begin.
Jacques began planning his strategy of keeping his family safe. It appeared that the wicked vampyre was going to hit them fast and hard, but Flynn’s nightmare could be to their advantage.
They had a warning.
“She’s found us through your dreams, and now we’re the hunted,” stated Jolie sadly, knowing what was coming.
Brogan didn't say a word. After what he experienced, he knew that the woman wasn’t just coming for them.
She was wielding the hammer of twisted justice.
Genevieve had one thing in mind.
Their deaths.
Much love, mayhem, and murder,