Authors: Karina Halle
“Jay,” I say softly and, against my better judgement, I place the wine down on the desk, taking a step toward him. The closer I get the more his posture stiffens.
I stop where I am. It takes all of my strength. I know I should just let things be as they are, as the way they need to be.
But that’s the problem.
Because the way things need to be involve the two of us together in ways I can’t even begin to explain. It’s not even that I gave Jay my heart—I’m not sure if I did—but I gave him every inch of my body and soul. He’s the only one who truly understands me and even though there is so much more to discover about him, so much more for him to discover about himself, we’re fused together for better or for worse.
I don’t want to fight against something that’s meant to be, something that every single instinct in my body is saying is right. For once, I feel
right
.
“I miss you,” I whisper.
He closes his eyes, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. He takes in a steadying breath.
“I know how it is,” I go on quietly. “I know what Jacob said. I know what you have to do. But I just had to tell you. I wish this could be any other way but I don’t know what I can do.”
“You can’t do anything,” he finally says after a long pause. His eyes flit to mine, holding me still. Everything inside me slows to a crawl, a warm, sweet stillness.
Then at least tell me what you feel for me
, I beg inside.
Tell me so I know, so I can take it with me and hold onto it before we’re forever changed.
A softness comes over his eyes and I can only hope he knows.
“It’s all up to me,” he says, straightening up, determination in his jaw. “I’ve been assigned to you, to teach you and protect you. You’re mine in that respect and will be for as long as it’s allowed.”
A sorrowful sigh catches in my throat and I look away. I know all of this. To hear it again is another nail in the coffin.
I try to put on a brave face, to tell myself it doesn’t really matter, that I never really knew him anyway, that this has been a mad crush, a hormone-fueled infatuation, that all it came down to was the fact that I had amazing sex for days with an immortal being and now I’m caught in the lovelorn, addicted tailspin of it all.
And that might all be true.
I’m sure it is true.
But it doesn’t mean that it’s the only truth.
That he is just as much mine as I am his.
That our souls crawled out from their hiding places and met in the bedroom, that they fused and grew and became something neither of us could have predicted. We`ve been to Hell together. If that`s not a bonding exercise, I don’t know what is.
“We’re not supposed to be together,” he says roughly. He takes a step forward and my brave face falters, wondering how the hell I’m going to get through the rest of our time together when I have to constantly fight against my own body’s needs.
“It’s not allowed, plain and simple,” he goes on, taking another step, his gaze growing more intense by the second. “Jacob threatened me in more ways than one. That he’ll transfer me to someone else, that he’ll become your guardian if he has to, that my duty to you absolutely can’t be compromised.”
“I know, I know,” I cry out, my cheeks flaming in frustration. “I know all this.”
“He says you’ll deal with it in time. He says I’ll deal with it in time. That time will erase whatever thing it is we have,” he says. “But I know that’s not true. We’re just at the beginning. This is just the start of what we are together, who we are to each other deep inside. I know you, Ada, and even though logic says you can’t, you know me too.”
“What are you saying?”
He’s just a foot away now, that musky, spicy scent of his flooding my nose, coating my nerves with honey. My body tingles from head to toe, the air between us starting to crackle as if it’s fighting to pull us together. One faint but glowing rope of livewire around my waist, connected straight to his.
“I’m saying,” he says, reaching out for my hand. A spark jumps from our contact, his palm warm as his strong fingers wrap around mine, grounding me instantly, “we can’t be together. But that doesn’t mean we won’t be.”
I blink dumbly at him, afraid to take in what he’s saying.
“You’re mine, princess,” he whispers, cupping my face in his hand. “And you’re mine in more ways than one. You’re mine in the way that really counts. I may not be mortal but it doesn’t mean you should be denied to me, just as I shouldn’t be denied to you.”
I nearly cry. His touch, his words, are a balm to my wounds.
But I can’t, not yet.
“Silas,” I whisper. Scared of his answer. That he won’t have an answer.
But he does.
“Silas Black was left behind in Hell,” he says. “I saw to that. Names have power and the demons brought him out, albeit at the worst time. And you know I can never stop apologizing for being so weak, for not seeing it coming. It’s something that will never happen again but it happened. But when I fought back, when I felt you, and you alone helped me through it, I banished him from every corner. I said his name myself. And in Hell now he will stay.”
I stare at him with uncertainty, even though I want to believe him so badly.
“Are you sure?” I whisper.
He gives me a faint smile. “When you shed evil from your soul, you know it. It’s no longer a shadow always following you, a black crown on your head. He’s not here.” He gestures to his chest. “It’s just me. J.J. Abrams.”
I can’t help but grin, then quickly bite my lip, trying to keep it together. “What about Jacob?”
“I have free will, remember?” he says, running his thumb over my bottom lip. “And what he doesn’t know, can’t hurt him.”
“But,” I try to say but he just pushes his thumb gently into my mouth. Hmmm. This is new and not entirely unwelcome.
“Can you put up the walls?” he whispers, eyes glued to my mouth as he removes his hand.
I swallow anxiously. Nod. I reach back into my head, my soul, the same way I’d done before, and instead of a steel door that can withstand the hot and cold of Hell, I imagine black velvet curtains rising from the floor, curtains made to conceal us inside and out.
Pop, pop, pop.
One by one they emerge around the room, billowing out and circling us in until it’s just Jay and I standing in world of soft black.
We grin at each other in amazement. I’m just as surprised as he is.
“Problem solved,” he says proudly. “What else can you do?”
I lick my lips and squeeze his hand tight, leading him toward the bed. “Let me show you.”
We stand at the foot of the bed, my hand pressed against his hard, heaving chest, ready to push him down. Before I can, his mouth crashes against mine, waves at sunset, kissing the shoreline. It’s like being swept into a whirlpool, warm and electric, spinning and pulling until I’m drowning, wild and free.
Are you sure?
I ask inside my head.
And his kiss tells me,
Always.
We fall into bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, cocooned by the dark.
We make our own light.
THE END
. . . Or keep reading
A SPECIAL NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Thank you for reading Veiled until the end.
Wait a minute? That was the end? THAT’S IT?
Well . . . probably not.
Hear me out.
When I first plotted this book I plotted it as part of a three-part series—a trilogy. However, I waited a very long time to be in the “mood” to write Veiled and revisit this world (more on that later). And when I finally felt like, yes, Ada, let’s do this, I could only commit to one book, not three.
Trust me, there is nothing worse than a book you HAVE TO WRITE. The pressure is insane. For me, I can’t write unless I feel it, so I was scared that though I was in the mood to finally tackle Veiled, I didn’t know if I would be in the mood to commit to two more books and write them in a timely fashion.
So I wrote Veiled as a standalone. I wrapped up as much as I can—knowing I have so much more to explore with Ada and Jay (Oh, Jay, you have NO IDEA WHAT I HAVE PLANNED FOR HIM. And Silas. Plus what about Ada’s training? Dex’s secret documentary? Will Sage Knightly ever put out another album?)—in the event that I could only get this one book out there.
In fact, when I first talked to my agent about approaching a publisher with this series (in the end we never did), she said that the first book would have to be written as a standalone, even if you have the other books written. It’s just the way it is since a publisher may just buy one book and not the whole series.
Also there’s the fact that Veiled might bomb. There might not be an audience for another book, even if I felt like it. No point releasing a book if no one cares about it (doesn’t mean I wouldn’t write it, but releasing it is another story).
So, time will tell. And what I need is to hear from YOU! Write me emails, message me, share the book, share the love. Let me know you want more! But I will tell you this, and I’m VERY optimistic, if it goes forward as a trilogy, I will know
very
soon. And I will let you know the moment I do.
How?
- You can follow me on Amazon (
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Meanwhile, thank you for reading Veiled. This book, as I mentioned before, was a long time in the making. After I finished The Experiment in Terror series (Perry and Dex, which you can find on KU, starting with Darkhouse), I didn’t want to touch a paranormal/horror/UF genre again.
I had to repeat myself a lot on why.
Because writing a book is hard.
Can you imagine writing a book? It’s not easy. It takes time and heart.
I wrote 13 books in those genres. THIRTEEN.
That’s a lot, is what I’m trying to say. I was burned out.
I have a rule, a personal code and motto that I follow:
I don’t write what I don’t feel.
I didn’t FEEL like writing anything like EIT again. And no matter how many people begged, or how many took shots at my other series (“Go back to writing horror, I hate your new stuff”), it didn’t change a thing.
I don’t write what I don’t feel.
I even tried to write Veiled last year. Wrote half a chapter and lost interest. I was more interested in what Lachlan and Kayla were up to in The Play. THAT was my passion and you can’t force passion.
Sorry.
You can’t.
Just like you can’t be forced to love someone.
So I shelved Veiled. And guess what? I’ve shelved or delayed other books before. Some of them are contemporary novels that might be “big hits.” I don’t talk about it. But I have. I stop writing them because I don’t care, I don’t live and breathe it and I have to live and breathe it to write.
I know many of my original fans probably won’t believe this and that’s fine. But the truth is, I feel and love and breathe every single book I release. Smut . . . that was a romantic comedy. Crude and light. But I wrote it because I lived it, I felt it. The Lie. That was angsty as hell and even painful. But I LOVED writing it. Where Sea Meets Sky, Racing the Sun . . . some of my favorite books. None of them are gritty or dark but I adored writing them. They made me happy. They gave me LIFE.
Isn’t life about that? Being happy and really living it?
That’s what I need to write.
Contemporary romance still makes me very happy. I’m still going to write it until maybe one day I get burned out on it. Then I’ll mix it up. Who knows. But it makes me happy, it fills my days with joy and it makes me look forward to my job. So say what you will about the genre (I get disgruntled emails from time to time, though thankfully I know most people love the books), but it’s mine and it’s honest and it comes from a beautiful place.
But Veiled . . . finally Veiled was coming from that place too. I shoved aside a contemporary romance in order to write this. I am mercy to my moods. And I felt it. I loved being back in this world. I loved seeing Dex and Perry and Dawn and Sage again. While those characters’ stories are over (let me repeat that: those stories are over. I am a romantic at heart. I wrote Dex and Perry and Dawn and Sage perfectly. All their books dealt with the rise and fall of their relationships. As an author, personally, this is the only thing that interests me. I have no desire to keep writing about couples who have a happy ending, let alone are married, because that’s boring to me and I just won’t do it. UNLESS I ruin their HEA. Which is fun! But do you REALLY want me to break these couples up? I don’t think so!), I loved being in Ada’s world and seeing how her relationship with Jay will develop.