Lissette E. Manning

As most of you already know, I’ve been diligently participating in CampNaNoWriMo  and have been writing story titled, The Secret Keeper. It’s a paranormal romance suspense story that’s coming along nicely, so far.

Anywho, earlier tonight, my muse decided to throw me a very unexpected curve. I never once gave thought, or had any intention, really, to write a sequel to The Secret Keeper itself. Basically, in my mind, I thought the book would be one standalone novel.

But I’m sure every writer knows how sneaky muses can be and mine decided to be quite crafty. He gave me idea to continue The Secret Keeper. While I’m not sure if his doing so is good or bad, I do like the idea he’s given me for the second book.

And thus is why I’ve decided to share with you all a preview of what’s to come for the series. Below you’ll find the prologue for Book 2. Sadly, I don’t have a working title yet, but I assure you that in time, I will. There’ll be a cover, too, to boot!

In the meantime, I beckon you all to read on and see what’s in store for you. I hope you all enjoy this little preview.

Prologue

She awoke to darkness. Her lips were cracked and her throat was parched. Soil and roots surrounded her, the scent filling her nostrils with every breath she took. She should have been afraid, yet the thought to cower never once crossed her mind. Reaching out, she pushed against her earthen tomb, dirt and minuscule rocks embedding themselves into her skin.

On and on, she pushed, the loam filling her mouth and nose with every stroke. At first, she spit out the soil, revulsion filling her as she occasionally swallowed some of the soil. Yet as her mouth and nose filled time and time again, she took to ignoring the sensation and continued plunging her hands through the dirt.

Time had no meaning for her as she worked and her sense of direction was non-existent. She had no idea as to where she was or why she’d been buried deep within the earth. Yet none of that mattered. The need to set herself free drove her, as did the hunger gnawing at the back of her throat.

How long she lay there clawing at the dirt she did not know, but soon she began to make headway. She reared back with fright as light poured in through the small hole she’d made. She soon became cognizant of the fact that it didn’t hurt her. A hysterical laugh burst through her lips as she tentatively reached out toward the sliver of light. While it felt a little warm, it didn’t hurt her and she surmised that it was safe to continue digging.

With renewed vigor, she tore at the earth, her hands moving with a speed that surprised her. With every stroke, the hole grew larger and soon she was able to pull herself upward as she strove toward the light. She pushed with all her might, joy filling her as she slowly moved forward.

Tearing through the last few inches of earth, she pulled herself out of the hole and gagged at the dirt that was now clogging her throat. Spitting the mud at the ground, she continued retching until her mouth was free of the debris. Wiping a dirtied hand across her lips, she took a moment to gaze at her surroundings.

She sat at the edge of a hole in a newly marked grave. An ivory headstone stood nearby, several words and dates scratched across its surface. Pushing herself onto her knees, she crawled toward the marker. Her fragmented mind struggled to grasp its significance as she tried to make sense of what she saw. Several images surfaced, yet none of them were enough to jog her memory.

She frowned, softly stroking the letters engraved deep within the stone. Something about them called to her, but she couldn’t quite understand what the darkest reaches of her mind were trying to tell her. Part of her knew that something was wrong. That there was something she should have remembered. But every time she tried to focus on the elusive train of thought, it eluded her.

She sat there, outlining the ivory letters with the tip of a finger, committing them to memory. How long she remained in that position, she didn’t know, but soon the hunger growing within her beckoned. The sound of a heartbeat within the vicinity pulsed within her ears, urging her to feed. Pushing herself to her feet, she lurched in its direction, her mouth salivating with every step.

She came upon a man bent over a newly shorn patch of grass, a shovel clutched tightly between his hands. He was unaware of her standing behind him, for she hadn’t made a sound with her approach. Reaching out to curl her fingers about his shoulder, he turned about with surprise.

“Blimey!” he breathed, his right hand pressed against his heart. “Ya scared me.”

Her head tilted to the side as she stared back at him, her green eyes cold and her face devoid of emotion. He took a moment to assess her, taking in her ripped clothing and the dirt spattered across her entire body. The sight of her disheveled appearance bothered him and he wondered as to what had happened to her that caused her to walk around in such a fashion.

“How’d ya get ‘ere?” he asked, frowning. “What ‘appened to ya?”

She moved closer to him, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled his musky scent. At five-feet-two, he towered over her by several inches, yet she knew the difference of height would not be a problem. Keeping her eyes glued to his, she beckoned him forward and waited for him to acquiesce. Wracked with indecision, he was afraid to move near her, but the more he gazed into her eyes, the more the need to touch her grew.

He bent toward her, his five o’clock shadow grazing the curve of her cheek. She reached up, her cold hands curling about his cheeks. The rough skin tickled her flesh, but it did nothing to deter her from her goal. Pulling his head down, she buried her face against his neck, rubbing her nose across the pulsing vein that drew her in with every thump.

Her fingers tightened about his face, holding him in place as her mouth opened wide. His eyes opened wide as he became aware of what she was. He struggled to pull himself free of her hold to no avail. Twisting his head to the side, she sank teeth into his neck and closed her eyes as she savored the sweet nectar of his blood as it poured down her throat.

As she drank from him, one word tumbled through her mind. While it held no meaning, part of her understood that it was important and that she needed to remember. Yet the blood pouring down her throat overrode that need. She gave herself up to the moment, drawing his very essence into her body. All-the-while, the word played over and over quite clearly inside her head.

Lucia . . .