Alexa Whitewolf – Avalon Dreams
About the Author
I was born in Romania (yep, Dracula’s country!) in 1992. As a curious kid, I devoured every book I could on Greek, Roman, Ancient Egyptian mythology. I studied university in political science and languages. I speak five of them: French, English, Romanian, Italian, Spanish… It was my fascination with the mythologies and languages that led to a VERY overactive imagination from a young age.
As I moved to Canada and headed into school here, life challenges and experiences meant I needed to express myself, and writing became the way. I currently have four books out, two series.
The Avalon Chronicles is a retelling of the Arthurian legend, though mine focuses on the obscure character of the Lady of the Lake and her struggles both in the past and present. www.alexawhitewolf.com/the-Avalon-chronicles
The Sage’s Legacy, book 1 was the first novel I wrote at a young age. I then wrote the second, and pretty much watched them collect dust until I got back into writing in university. It follows the saga of Freya and Brennan, two teenagers with mythical powers and clashing personalities that have to save the world from ghosts. Www.alexawhitewolf.com/the-sages-legacy
An hour later, close to midnight, Vivienne crossed the roundabout and arrived by the fountain. Sébastien was there, standing up from its edge when they were in close proximity. He extended a hand, almost as if to reach for her, but appeared to think better of it and dropped it.
“You came,” he murmured, almost as if not trusting she would have.
Without the noise of the crowd, the full effect of his voice permeated, and the young woman shivered at the husky tone tugging on her senses.
Vivienne melted the closer she got to him. She had never reacted such to a man, an impression of completeness as though he was a missing piece, and the world was set right just by being in his vicinity.
It was freaking her out, and she tried not to anticipate what her parents would say about meeting an unfamiliar man in a secluded place, in the middle of the night. All these musings crossed Vivienne’s head, yet they were still staring at each other.
The night was silent, with no one else around. Even the alleyways from the roundabout were deserted. Their eyes collided, and that instant connection hit them both. Vivienne heard Sébastien’s intake of breath, and her own lips parted in response.
“Is this crazy?” she wondered passed the dry throat, clogged with emotion. She bit her bottom lip, shifting on her feet, and something softened in his countenance. There was so much in that one gaze, but all Sébastien did was reach for Vivienne’s wrist, and gather her close.
She tipped her head back to meet his eyes, and noticed the clenched jaw, as though he was aiming for restraint. When her eyes lowered to his lips, Sébastien gave a small groan, bent her head back over his arm and kissed her, tenderly at first, allowing Vivienne plenty of time to shove him away.
“If this is crazy, or an illusion, I’d rather never wake up,” Sébastien confessed against her lips, pressing her tight, the graze of his mouth against hers changing in intensity. Vivienne clung to him as though he was the rock in the midst of a tornado….
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Cecily Wolfe – That Night
Cass was supposed to be working at the Dairy Delite today, as she did every Saturday, but she hadn’t slept well without Sarah and she considered calling off. It would be hard to face anyone, but she needed the money. She wasn’t ashamed, but she was sure that if some girl showed up and mouthed off, she wouldn’t get off as easily as Sarah had if Cass attacked her. Making derogatory comments at a funeral home was one thing, but at the ice cream stand, well, that was standard small town bullshit. Unfortunately, it was going to happen now or later, so she pulled a pair of shorts on under her long sleep shirt and headed downstairs, thinking that dealing with her parents and their awkwardness over the situation, as they called it, might be worse than a day at work. Her mother was stirring instant coffee grounds into a faded ceramic mug when Cass stepped into the kitchen, turning so quickly that the brown liquid sloshed a little over the side of the mug. Cass stopped herself before she shook her head.
“You’re going to work today? It’s good to see you making an effort to get over . . .”
Get over. Was that what she needed to do before pulling the lever on the soft serve machine? Before she went back to school, graduated, went into the Air Force? Things that Kayla would never do, things Kayla would never share with her?
Cass’s father suddenly appeared in the room, scratching at the back of his head. Cass wondered if he thought that would somehow make him figure out what he should say. She just wished they would stop saying anything.
“Actually, I think it’s better for you to get back into the swing of things. Moping around here with Sarah certainly won’t help.”
He didn’t look at her when he spoke, as if he knew that her gaze would be disapproving. When she didn’t respond after several seconds, he shrugged.
“Keep moving forward. You know, it’s the best way to get over this.”
Get over. There it was again. Her mother walked up to her and started to rub Cass’s back. Her mother had never rubbed her back before, and Cass didn’t want her to do it now. She didn’t like to be touched except when it came to Kayla and Sarah, or Mia, for that matter. Her parents had never been demonstrative, and it felt fake now.
“I’m going, but not because you just quoted Walt Disney to me.”
She didn’t wait for a response before skirting around her father, listening to the loud whispers behind her as she moved towards the stairs. Did they really think that she couldn’t hear them?