Love and Decay, Kane's Law Read online

  Chapter Four

  I finished checking the upstairs and assured myself I’d gone over the downstairs three times. But there was this uneasy feeling sitting in my chest, winding me up in funny ways. I looked over at Reagan and tried to believe she wouldn’t just disappear into thin air- that she was real, that she was mine.

  The feeling of impending loss didn’t leave, though.

  And I hated her for a moment. I hated that she made me care about her so deeply after only one day. I hated that I suddenly couldn’t imagine going back to the lonely, solitary existence I’d enjoyed before she walked into my life. And I hated that every time I looked at her a swelling ache ignited in my chest and consumed me in a fire of lust, longing and something stronger.

  I wanted her.

  I wanted to kiss her.

  I wanted to talk to her for hours and hours.

  I wanted to make her breakfast… lunch… dinner.

  I wanted to do the dishes side by side.

  I wanted to whisper “goodnight” and stretch out beside her in the early dawn and croak “good morning.”

  I wanted her smile focused on me.

  I wanted her laughter to fill my home.

  I wanted her hand in mine.

  Her body underneath me.

  And most of all her soul.

  I wanted her everything.

  She looked up at me, a hesitant glance in which her eyes were uncertain and her brow furrowed with confusion. I didn’t have those things I wanted tonight, but the press of her lips and her mystified silence told me I could have them one day.

  She’d been perfect today. She hadn’t meant to be- in fact, I thought she might have meant to be the opposite. But still, it was like she was created specifically for me and this place.

  She’d seen the process for which most people come into our Colony. She’d been furious with our methods. Her cheeks had heated, her petite body shook with self-righteous indignation and the only thought I could process through my foggy brain was how badly I wanted to take that passion and kiss her until it was focused solely on me. She was utterly breath-taking.

  I could watch her for hours.

  There’d been moments between us all day. She hated me. I told myself this was a normal reaction and that I would change her opinion. But she wasn’t quiet about her feelings. And while I wished she felt differently, I looked forward to the time when she was as vocal about the good stuff too.

  Eventually, I needed to speak with my father. I took her to the laundry room and put her to work. She needed time away from me to appreciate what I could do for her, how I could help her live. And I needed to check my instincts about her and run this by Matthias.

  I’d left her for a little bit with an easy chore and women I trusted to keep an eye on her. I sought out my father and checked on Miller- although I tried to keep myself at an emotional distance.

  Miller was as stubborn as all hell. And my father had been uncharacteristically lenient with him. They were together in my father’s office. He’d been forcing Miller to sit there through his daily business. It wasn’t the worst punishment he could have doled out, but Miller had trouble sitting still. Plus, it hadn’t helped that his hands were still cuffed behind his back and he was oozing blood from various places all over his body.

  “I’m surprised you picked her,” my father had said immediately. He wasn’t one to beat around the bush.

  “Why is that?” I drawled casually, forcing myself to disguise my disappointment.

  “She’s…” He couldn’t seem to find the right word while he stared down at his calloused hands. After long moments of pensive silence, in which I waited with my breath caught in my lungs, he looked up at me and said, “Untamed. Kane, she’s wild.”

  I forced my body into submission so I wouldn’t react to his words meant as insults. I knew those things about her. They were part of the unavoidable force that drew me to her. “She’s been on her own.” My words sounded hollow even to my own ears.

  My father offered me a consoling smile and said, “I understand the appeal, Son. But is she really the kind of girl you settle down with? She’s the one you want to claim?”

  I hesitated for only a moment. “Yes.”

  My father sat back in his chair and looked at my brother. “What do you think, Miller? Has Kane met his match or can he break this one like all the others?”

  “She’s not a horse,” Miller mumbled through a swollen mouth, but then his sometimes-wiser-beyond-his-years eyes met mine and he gave me a one shouldered shrug. “I don’t think you’re her type.”

  For some reason Miller’s opinion started the fire of bitterness and rage faster than even my father’s comments. “What do you know? You can’t even go for a walk without getting beat up.”

  “Screw you,” he lisped.

  I ran my tongue over the roof of my mouth, made it push against the back of my top teeth- a soothing habit I had since I was little. I shoved my hands into my pockets and focused on all of Miller’s already inflicted injuries. He didn’t need me to hurt him more.

  Although, I could. Easily.

  “Kane, are you getting upset at something Miller said?” my father sounded so incredulous, shame flushed through me, hot and acidic. “What does he know about women?” He snorted and shook his head at me. “It doesn’t matter what her type is, you’re the man that picked her. So, she’s a challenge? I think that’s part of her appeal. Am I right?” I answered with shallow nod. “Then there’s nothing else to discuss. I’m not thrilled with the idea of you choosing someone before they’ve been fully probated here. But I understand your urgency with wanting your stamp on her. I’m not going to deny you something you so clearly want.” He made her sound like a patch of lawn I wanted to pee on. But I understood his point. “Be careful with her. That’s my only advice. She seems like a headache to me, but I want you happy, Son.”

  “It’s her then,” I assured him. “She’s what makes me happy.”

  “And what does she think of it here?” he asked as if he already knew.

  “She’s adjusting.” And because I couldn’t lie to my father, I said, “She doesn’t like the Feeders in the hallway. She thinks we’re inhumane.”

  My father rolled his eyes and sagged his whole upper body on his desk, exaggerating his exasperation. “Of course she does. Same kind of woman as your mother.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” I asked on a grin.

  My father shot me a pointed look. “Doesn’t have to be. Just be prepared to fight for every inch of that woman.”

  “That’s the plan,” I confirmed. Suddenly my hands felt empty without her in them. My arms felt useless if she wasn’t filling them. And we’d barely touched. What would it be like when she finally gave me permission to have her body? What would it be like when I finally got to take what was mine?

  Bliss.

  It would have to be. Incomparable, undisputed bliss.

  “Then take the rest of the day off,” my father answered. “Let her get acclimated. Show her around. But I want you at dinner. Your mother would like to spend more time with her.”

  Miller made an indignant sound in his throat but this time it was easier to ignore him. My father smiled at me, and I chose to ignore the reserve settled in his eyes. He had given me permission. That was all I needed.

  And suddenly I’d been desperate to get back to her.

  Dinner had been a kind of religious experience for me. She continued to reveal these layers of herself that I found practically intoxicating. I just… I just couldn’t get enough. And even while she’d pushed my father further away, she’d done nothing but captivate every part of me.

  I’d also seen her relax some.

  My dad had helped with that when he asked, “So, Reagan, what do you think of our little community?” I’d held my breath waiting for her answer, but it hadn’t come. My father prompted her by saying, “It can be overwhelming at first, I reali
ze this. Especially since you’ve been by yourself for so long.”

  Her body had stiffened in that angry way of hers and she’d shot back with, “I haven’t been by myself. I’m by myself right now, while you keep my friends locked up at gun point.” And then she flinched forward when I assumed my sister kicked her under the table. I’d been at the receiving end of that pointed toe a time or two before.

  I couldn’t always count on Tyler, but she tended to come through when I needed her most.

  Tyler spoke up then, saving us all from whatever else Reagan wanted to complain about. “Speaking of, I better get them dinner.”

  Reagan seemed to relax at those words and I felt my hatred for those bastards renewed. What she really needed to do was forget them completely.

  In time, I promised myself.

  After Tyler had flounced off, my father went back to pushing Reagan. I didn’t understand his game plan, but my respect for her was surpassed into something like awed fascination.

  “Kane says you don’t approve of our wall decorations.” Matthias regarded her over the dinner table and waited patiently for her to walk into his verbal trap. She wasn’t the first person to have issue with my father’s ostentation, but unlike all the times before, I was very anxious to see how she would answer.

  “They should be shot,” she said simply but firmly. “They’re disgusting reminders of the peril we’re in; it’s cruel and dangerous for you and your people.”

  “My people know better than to get near them. A small child would know better than to get near them. And what is so cruel about their treatment? Their minds and souls have vanished. The only thing they are capable of living for is their addiction to human flesh. Even in their wasted states where they can’t hold their own body weight up without the help of those steel bars, sill they reach and hunger for flesh. It has consumed them until they are less than human, less than even animal, until they are a species of terrifying creatures all their own.”

  She didn’t miss a beat, “So put them out of their misery! They were once humans. They were once someone’s father or mother, son or daughter. They were brothers and sisters and neighbors and bosses and employees. They had purpose in life, they had happiness and love. You are degrading them and decimating their memory! And their mind might be dead, but what about their soul? Their hearts still beat, their blood still pumps. How can you judge someone’s soul when they are technically still alive?”

  Her speech met silence. She’d stunned my father. And my mother’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

  I realized then why my father felt hesitant to accept her. She could be his opposite.

  Easily.

  My father’s success had been partly born from in instinctive ability to survive and help others survive. But the other part, the part that had spread the word about The Colony and drawn outsiders in, was his unquestionable charisma. Sure, if you were on the wrong side of his good will, you suffered at his hand. But generally speaking, he could pull in any audience and spin words and tales until they were emptying their pockets in the name of a greater good that he gave to them. He was incredibly talented at collecting followers.

  And Reagan had that same spark. She spoke with true conviction that demanded a response. She felt compassion in ways that no one else would ever consider. And she forced you to believe with her, to take her words and adapt them as your own beliefs.

  No wonder my father kept pushing her- he saw her as an enemy.

  But he had nothing to worry about. She would be with me, stay by my side and not rock his carefully constructed boat. She’d help him build his civilization. She’d work for him, not against him.

  She caught me staring at her, my emotions, feelings and hopes for our future visible all over my unguarded face. I felt a flush of embarrassment creep up my neck and I resisted the urge to rub my contacts into place.

  Luckily my father broke the spelled silence with sarcasm, “Well, hells bells ya’ll! I do believe we have a free thinker on our hands.”

  “Matthias,” my mother chided him.

  He ignored her, “Kane, you are one lucky man, Son.” I met his gaze a little reluctantly, but was pleasantly surprised to see him beaming with pride. “Best to hold on to her, break that spirit as quick as you can.”

  Miller made that disgruntled sound in the back of his throat again, but I was too focused on the girl next to me to mind. I put a gentle hand on Reagan’s shoulder, like I was calming a frightened animal and let my fingers rub along her shoulder blade to the nape of her neck. I absorbed the heat of her body into my fingertips, relished in the touch of her body beneath my hand.

  In my most honest voice, I said, “I’m not interested in a broken woman, Father. I like Reagan’s spirit. I’m drawn to her spunk and defiance. She’s like the life that’s missing in this dead world, the fight that has depleted and rusted away. I would never take that away from her.”

  She looked up at me, surprised and unsure, but I did my best to comfort her with an easy smile. She got a little lost staring up at me. Her brow furrowed over those dark eyes and her mouth wasn’t quite sure whether to smile or frown. Instead, she pressed her lips together to take the decision away from them completely.

  We had a moment. This was another one of our infinite minutes, when time became irrelevant and we just watched each other, trying to fit the other one into our individual lives. She worked to make me the villain and I desired to make her my fearless heroine. We weren’t quite in sync yet, but we would be. She couldn’t deny the something between us, even if her something didn’t have a name yet.

  Mine had only just developed into something substantial and tangible.

  My something had become future. Reagan was my future- in every sense of the word.

  “How cavalier,” I heard my father tease. “My son, the gentleman.”

  I’d been too lost to respond though. Was I a gentleman? I didn’t really know. It’s not like I’d been accused of that before. Insane. Heartless. Cruel. Monster. Those were the words I’d heard lately to describe me.

  So why did gentleman feel right? More right than any of those truer descriptors?

  It was Reagan. She was the reason, the difference.

  And now that she stood watching herself in the bathroom mirror, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. So lovely.

  I watched her brush her teeth as if it were normal for us. And then she took care of her hair and face and I wanted to help her. I wanted to take the washcloth and press it against her skin, I wanted to trail it down her throat, wash away the dirt of the day and help her feel as beautiful as she looked.

  The only black mark on the whole evening was when I offered her clothes to sleep in. She declined, although I wasn’t sure I expected her to accept. Still, the strong current of paranoia reminded me she was a fighter and she wasn’t finished fighting with me.

  My guard might have started to drop, but that was all I needed to remember her friends locked away tonight.

  As if to confirm my thoughts, she said, “You cannot possibly expect me to give up my freedom so easily and accept this… this imprisonment, can you?”

  I grinned at her and shook my head. “I guess not.” And that was the truth. I slid past her into the bathroom and pulled out my own toothbrush. “Wait for me?” I asked her, feeling achingly exposed.

  She shrugged like she didn’t have a choice, but she did. I had just given her one. I felt warmed immediately by her choice to stay with me.

  And then I felt hot- scorching- while she watched me get ready from her perch on the useless toilet seat lid. Her gaze never left my body. She stared, enthralled with my mouth while I brushed and then my chest when I tugged off my t-shirt. Her eyes raked over me. My body reacted in every way to her while she stared at me. I couldn’t stop myself from wanting her in that moment.

  If only to pull her inside the bathroom with me. Push her against the sink. Grip her thighs and lift her up, only to set h
er down on the edge of the ceramic countertop. All I wanted was to step inside the cradle of her thighs and plunder her mouth with mine. Claim her in every way.

  I shook my head at the same time she did- both of us snapping out of a lust-induced haze.

  I went for my contacts then, desperate to get them out and give my poor dry eyes some relief. I set them in their little containers and slid on my glasses. They were cumbersome and awkward at times, but I preferred them over my contacts. Contacts were not a permanent solution. I was lucky I’d had enough to last me this long. I was more worried about breaking my glasses.

  Not that I was entirely blind without my visual aids, but it was decently bad- bad enough to know that without something to bring the world around me into clarity I would live the rest of my life with one giant migraine.

  Reagan had broken out into a blinding smile, so I had to ask, “What?”

  “The glasses,” she laughed softly. “They’re just not very intimidating.”

  I held out my hand to her and disguised my shock when she actually took it. I pulled her to standing and confessed, “I’m not trying to intimidate you, Reagan.”

  She didn’t answer me but I felt her believe me. I saw it in her trusting expression, felt it in the way her dainty fingers wrapped around mine. My chest swelled and I felt like pounding it with pride.

  At one of the guest bedrooms, I stopped and told her, “You can stay here until you’re… until you’re more comfortable with being around me.”

  She nodded and seemed to relax even more. “Thank you,” she answered sweetly.

  I walked her inside and motioned for her to sit down on the bed. I hated this next part, especially because we seemed to have just made progress; but I wasn’t foolish enough to think this was unnecessary. I pulled the handcuffs from my back pocket and she flinched and then tensed to rigid uncertainty. My inflated chest collapsed immediately. I had just been the hero, but now I was back to being the villain.

  Still, it couldn’t be helped.

  She would learn.

  This wouldn’t be necessary one day soon.

  With huge eyes she asked, “Can I at least keep my hands in front of me? If they’re behind my back you’ll have to cut them off by morning.”

  I shook my head but only because I didn’t want her to catch me laughing at her sense of humor. I gestured toward the head of the bed and she slowly moved into position.

  “You won’t try anything?” she asked a little desperately.

  “Not a thing,” I swore- and I meant it. “Not tonight.”

  “Swear it to me. Swear to me that if I put my hands above my head you won’t touch.” Her eyes were flooded with uncertain tears and her hands shook as she held them in front of her, reluctant to submit.

  She had to learn to trust me. And at least in this, I wouldn’t disappoint her.

  I had no interest touching her until she absolutely wanted me to.

  “Reagan, I swear to you that I won’t touch you tonight unless you give me permission.”

  She rolled her eyes but raised her hands anyway. I drew close to her and enjoyed the heat that radiated from her body, the pliancy of her body beneath mine, the way I could just drop another half an inch and press the length of my body against hers. But I stayed true to my word and didn’t touch her except for her wrists.

  “Would you like a blanket?” I asked while she wiggled around trying to get comfortable. I decided I would offer to massage her wrists in the morning. They would be sore, and I honestly hated the idea of her suffering.

  “No, thank you,” she answered simply.

  “What about your shoes?” I asked. “I could take them off for you.”

  She flinched again and those same alarm bells sounded out inside my head. She shook her head, trying to play it off. “Uh, no, thanks.” I raised my eyebrows at her and waited for her explanation. “It’s just that I’ve slept with my shoes on for two straight years. I know you say this town is safe, but I need to see it for myself. I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t have them on. At least not yet.”

  That could be true.

  But she could easily be trying to pacify me so I didn’t see a deeper meaning.

  And then she sucked in the corner of her bottom lip and I had my answer.

  I decided to let her think I believed her words at face value. If she relaxed some but was also planning something, maybe she would give herself away.

  I walked over to the door, but needed to reassure her that she was doing the right thing by staying here. “Reagan, I know this isn’t ideal for you, but you are for me. I mean, you are ideal for me. I think you should give this, us, a chance. Your friends would have a chance, too, then.” I didn’t wait around to hear her argue with me or shoot down the idea completely. I turned off the lights and left her alone to think about what I said.

  I locked her door from the outside and all but whistled a happy tune on the way to my own bedroom.

  This felt right. This felt good.

  I couldn’t fall asleep though. As calm as I felt and as positive as I was that this, Reagan, was my future… I couldn’t silence my frantic thoughts. All I could focus on was losing her. My mind fixated on the pinpoint possibility of her escaping and I obsessed over every minute detail of my house and how I had left her.

  When her bed creaked loud enough for me to hear the sound all the way down the hall, I didn’t even feel surprised. She would fight this- I knew she would. That was who she was and one of the reasons I felt so attracted to her.

  Still disappointment and frustration washed over me like a bucket of ice water. When the creaking didn’t stop and the clear sounds of a window opening and the steel bars being shaken permeated the sleepy night, I couldn’t lie still any longer. My skin prickled with the effort not to lash out at something- hit something, destroy something. My glasses were still on- I hadn’t even bothered to take them off.

  I knew this moment was coming.

  So why did I feel this so acutely?

  But it was like everything with her. I felt more. I thought more. I wanted more.

  I jumped out of bed and sprinted down the hallway. I fumbled with the lock a little bit, but eventually got the damned thing off. Drawing my gun, to intimidate the hell out of her, I burst into the room ready to tackle her to the ground, but she was nowhere. I panicked at the sight of the empty space. My vision tunneled to the open window and all I could see were those goddamn bars and how they had been useless when I really needed them. Forget the Zombie threat. I didn’t need to keep something out; I needed to keep the most important thing in.

  “No,” I heard myself utter that desperate sound and I flew to the window to see if I could talk reason into her. A string of vile curses left my mouth and I swore to myself I wouldn’t strangle her once I tracked her down. But she wasn’t down there, she wasn’t anywhere. I lowered my gun and reached for the bar, promising myself it had been strong enough to keep her in here.

  Confusion replaced my blind anger and I didn’t understand how she’d squeezed through the bars. It was impossible and they were still firmly in place.

  That meant she was still in the house, still with me.

  Joy and relief replaced everything else and just as I was getting ready to stand and tear apart the room until I found her, the tip of a very large knife jabbed itself into bare skin, hovering right over my kidneys, and I couldn’t move without cutting open the flesh.

  “Don’t move,” she hissed at me. Smart bitch. “Unless, of course, you want me to take some of your vital organs with me on my way to Mexico?”

  That debilitating rage was back and this time I wasn’t sure I could talk myself out of punishing her. She needed to learn a lesson.

  “Put the safety on your gun,” she ordered. I was too angry to move, too furious to respond verbally. The tip of her knife cut through my flesh and I felt the strong bite of burning pain and then the hot, sticky gush of blood down my hip. I
finally listened. She wasn’t joking. “Throw it back on the bed,” she demanded.

  I’d be lying if I didn’t find even this side of her sexy as hell.

  Damn, this girl had me so twisted in knots.

  “You won’t even make it out of town,” I told her when I’d finally found the ability to speak again. “And if you try, by the time you make it back to me I will be beyond pissed. For your own sake, knock this off. Give up, Reagan. Be smart.”

  Please be smart.

  Please don’t leave me.

  She laughed cruelly at me and I had never hated anyone more than I hated her in that moment. “Kane,” she cackled. “If I don’t make it out of this town, I hope for my own sake you are pissed off and put me out of my misery.”

  Somehow I found the strength to hide the heights of my fury and taunted her instead. “Now, now, Reagan, don’t say things you don’t mean.”

  Her knife imbedded deeper into my skin and I stifled a pained wince. The blade felt like the surface of the sun so deep in my side. I wanted to rip it out and then inflict the same kind of pain on her, make her writhe, make her scream. And then I wanted to kiss her, bruise her lips until she cried out my name, use her body until she forgot her own.

  I tossed the gun onto the bed behind me and swallowed back my agony- both physical and emotional.

  She clicked the handcuffs onto my wrists without any opposition from me- but truthfully, I could barely move through the pain in my side. My arms felt dead against my weakened body and my vision was starting to blur along the edges. I was handcuffed to the window before I could even think through her actions.

  She jumped back from me, taking her searing knife and I felt my vision go black before I forced my eyes open and my attention on her.

  I glared over my shoulder at her while she teased me. I drank her in one more time until I’d memorized every feature on her lovely face and curve of her sensual body; I murdered her slowly with my eyes- cut to her pieces, put her back together. I couldn’t decide what to do about her, my body and my mind were at war with their reactions.

  “Thanks for the gun,” she teased.

  I sucked in a stuttering breath and warned her, “Reagan, I will find you. I will hunt you down until you’re mine again.”

  She rolled her eyes and snorted a disbelieving laugh. “Do not hold your breath for that one.”

  “Good advice,” I agreed. “Now let me give you some. Don’t ever stay too long in any town because I will find you. Don’t tell anyone your real name from here on out, or I will find you. And…” I paused to steady my breathing, to gain control of my wavering voice. “Don’t ever, ever think you will be safe from me- because there is no place in this world I would not go for you.”

  “Now that’s just crazy,” she laughed at me. “You just sit tight and I’m sure some other, unsuspecting girl will pop up and you can hold her prisoner for the rest of her life.”

  I lost my mind then- I finally succumbed to the insanity that had been threatening me for two years now. “I don’t think you’re getting it…”

  But she cut me off and I swear my vision drowned in blackness, right along with my wicked soul.

  With her hand in the air she said, “I don’t really want to get it. I just want to go.” And then she disappeared through the door, locking me in with a final click.

  The moment she was gone, I came unhinged. I fought against the steel bars as if for my life. Inhuman growls poured from my mouth, saliva dripped from my chin and my entire body was coated with sticky sweat. Blood gushed from the wound in my side and the pain of that injury permeated every blood cell until it was what fueled my rage.

  I thought I caught a glimpse of her running the street in front of my house, but it was hard to tell. And now my vision had begun to blur and my head felt too light- like I was floating away. A ringing in my ear seemed to come from everywhere at once.

  Damn it, the blood loss.

  How long until someone found me? Until I could be released to go hunt her.

  Sirens sounded somewhere, only I couldn’t tell if they were in my head or in the world outside of my crazed mind. It was hard to tell the difference sometimes, but with so much blood gone, it was harder than ever.

  The sounds of Feeders slavering and drooling could be heard somewhere, but where? In my dreams? Were they haunting me now?

  Confusion overwhelmed me, warring with my wrath and panic.

  But the worst of all was the darkness, the consuming shadow that pulled me under before I was ready.

  I knew I would fall to it, any second now.

  And so I made a vow- a vow to find that woman and remind her who she belongs to. She shouldn’t have left me.

  But I would make her pay.

  And then I would make sure she never left me again.

  She was mine. She belonged to me.

  I would find her and remind her. And she would never leave me again. I would make sure of it.

  I would never stop searching for her, never stop looking.

  And why would I? Not when she could breathe life back into my existence with just her presence.

  Not when she could so wholly redeem me.

  Thank you for being a part of Season One and Reagan’s journey! This is an extra for your enjoyment!

  Look for Season Two, Episode One of Love and Decay coming Friday, February 14th, 2014

  About the Author

  Rachel Higginson was born and raised in Nebraska, but spent her college years traveling the world. She married her high school sweetheart and spends her days raising their growing family. She is obsessed with bad reality TV and any and all Young Adult Fiction.

  Look for more from Rachel in 2013.

  Love and Decay is taking a two month break and will begin again in February, 2014.

  Other books by Rachel to be released in 2013 are The Relentless Warrior, the sixth book in The Star-Crossed Series and The Fall, the second book in the Siren Series.

  Other Books Out Now by Rachel Higginson:

  Love and Decay, Episode One

  Love and Decay, Episode Two

  Love and Decay, Episode Three

  Love and Decay, Episode Four

  Love and Decay, Episode Five

  Love and Decay, Episode Six

  Love and Decay, Episode Seven

  Love and Decay, Episode Eight

  Love and Decay, Episode Nine

  Love and Decay, Episode Ten

  Love and Decay, Episode Eleven

  Love and Decay, Episode Twelve

  Love and Decay, Boy Meets Girl- Hendrix’s POV of Episode One

  Reckless Magic (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 1)

  Hopeless Magic (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 2)

  Fearless Magic (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 3)

  Endless Magic (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 4)

  The Reluctant King (The Star-Crossed Series, Book 5)

  Starbright (The Starbright Series, Book 1)

  Sunburst (The Starbright Series, Book2)

  The Rush (The Siren Series, Book 1)

  Bet in the Dark (An NA Contemporary Romance)

  Striking (A Co-Authored Stand-Alone Contemporary NA)

  Follow Rachel on her blog at:

  www.rachelhigginson.com

  Or on Twitter:

  @mywritesdntbite

  Or on her Facebook pages:

  Rachel Higginson

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