When Teagan Lewis moves from rural Montana to the bright lights of London with her maker Thomas, she expects to live as harmoniously as she has for the last one hundred-fifty years. Teagan didn’t know she had a heart or soul until she met Marc Romano.
However, it quickly becomes clear that Marc is forbidden fruit. All the signs that he isn’t human were there from the beginning, but she chose to ignore them…to her peril.
Can she simply walk away from this mesmirising stranger? Or should she risk her immortality to be with the man she has fallen in love with?
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Excerpt from Chapter Five of 'Falling to Pieces'
My heels clicked across the metal flooring of the loading dock before arriving in front of the rounded capsule made of glass with thin steel struts as support.
“The full rotation takes thirty minutes, Mr. Romano,” said the guy at the entrance, with narrowed eyes and a hand on his hip as we stepped inside.
The centre of the capsule boasted a polished lightwood, oval shaped bench. A pair of shiny long stemmed glasses and a beautifully presented box of truffles rested on a starched tablecloth. Next to them sat a silver bucket brimming with ice. A bottle poked out from between the cubes, the top encased with golden foil.
I turned to watch him entering. “Wow! I didn’t realise The London Eye was open so late.
“It’s not,” he said with a smug grin. “I have a friend at EDF. He owed me a favour.”
“EDF?” I cocked my head.
“Yeah, they sponsor The London Eye.”
“Ahh. Good thing I showed up tonight then, right.” I narrowed my eyes in his direction. He knew damn straight that I’d come back to the bar tonight. I inwardly chastised myself for being so transparent.
He dipped his head in what I took as a display of shame for being so sure of himself.
The door to the glass capsule slid shut. All that could be heard inside was the whir of the huge wheel ascending and the sound of our breathing.Marc remained by the entrance with both his hands in the pockets of his pants, his feet planted apart.I stood next to the midsection of the bench where the champagne was, not quite comfortable with how to stand or what to say next. I must have appeared as awkward too, so I tried to relax.
Marc stood silently and appeared to admire every inch of me, consuming me with his glossy gaze. I gulped, rapidly blinking whilst surveying his smouldering golden brown eyes. This was the first time we’d ever been alone, and this was an entirely different type of alone, it was impossible for us to be disturbed.
“Impressive for a first date,” I muttered, keeping my expression blank and my voice even.
I imagined myself walking over to him, tracing my palm down his solid chest, planting kisses down his neck.
My gaze flicked to his throat in time with the vision in my head as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. His expression and stance made him appear cool, calm and collected—this small detail provided me with the knowledge he wasn’t.
He stepped towards me slowly, as if he feared startling me, his eyes glued to mine. I sucked a breath through my teeth, his glance moved towards the champagne in response—as if I’d told him I was off limits.
Perhaps I’d overreacted to his self-assured actions? ‘Get over it, Teagan and just enjoy yourself,’ I scolded myself. He was stunning, why would anyone turn him down?
“You want some?” he asked, cocking his head to one side as he lifted the bottle out of the ice.
“Yes, please,” I said, still gritting my teeth against the image of sinking my fangs into his throat, smooth and sun-kissed.
“Are you scared of heights?” His eyebrows squished together for a moment.
I snorted. He’d noticed my tension and associated it with the ride. I was capable of smashing out of here and climbing down the structure before anyone even noticed. Being alone with him was the only thing causing my apprehension.
“No, I love this. Thank you for thinking of it,” I said, smiling at him.
He raised an eyebrow at me and a lopsided grin appeared as he popped the cork from the bottle not spilling a drop of liquid. A man after my own heart.
The capsule held both of our scents. His was intoxicating, almost overpowering. I felt as though it was carrying me away to a place that was designed to possess so many elements of how he smelled—perhaps a kitchen in the countryside. Floral tones reminiscent of wildflower fields drifted in through an open window on rays of sunshine, flooding me with warmth that I hadn’t felt since being a child.
He’d poured us both a glass of the golden tinged liquid and placed the stem of the champagne glass in my hand before raising his index finger to my eyebrow, brushing his finger over it. My lips parted at the contact, and I mirrored his furrowed brow. My insides squirmed and my skin buzzed as he traced his finger down my cheekbone and across my parted lips before cupping my chin.
“You are so beautiful, Teagan.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, unable to break the intense gaze between us. My stomach somersaulted and I wanted to glance down at his lips but I realised if I did I’d be unable to refrain from kissing him. I wanted him to kiss me first, call it womanly pride—I still had that, despite all my years of life.
He dropped his hand away from my face and took a deep breath as if he were trying to hold back just like I was.
“We’re going to miss the view,” he said.
‘I think the view I’ve got in here beats the one outside.’
I smiled at my thought and turned to look out of the convex window. I bent over and rested my forearms on the cool metal railing that ran around the inside of the capsule, sipping my champagne and enjoying the bubbles popping in my mouth before swallowing. The Eye was lit up in blue that night, casting a magnificent reflection on the murky black waters of the Thames.
Marc stood beside me, his thigh pressed against mine. My heartbeat throbbed in my throat as he started running his fingers up and down my exposed back. My fangs started to peek out, and I willed them back in as I concentrated on the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben’s glowing face as a distraction.
As we reached the top, the dim light from inside blinked out making lit-up London seem that much brighter. I inhaled a deep noisy breath. I was in the darkness with the most exhilarating man I’d ever met in my long life, and he was touching me.
My insides swirled, the only sounds were the thundering sound of my heartbeat and Marc’s ragged breathing. His fingers rested on my elbow, lightly tugging at me. I turned my head to meet his burning gaze. I placed the champagne flute on the floor.
I missed the split second before he grabbed my hips and pulled me towards him. His lips found mine like he’d spent an eternity mapping out the route. His mouth tasted of the champagne, sweet and intoxicating. His excited tongue probed my mouth. My insides hummed and turned into dampness between my thighs. My entire body was a mass of wanton nerve endings begging to be touched, stroked and caressed. His soft full lips burned against mine, but all I could think about was them trailing over every inch of me.
L.T. Kelly was born and raised in Solihull, UK. She started writing short stories at school where her teachers offered her lots of feedback and encouragement.
Aged seventeen she joined the Royal Air Force, her career didn’t reserve a lot of time to write so she pushed her passion for it to the back of her mind.
After an eleven and a half career she started writing short stories again until a friend commented that she should write a novel.
She has always had an unhealthy obsession with vampires, so of course it was inevitable that a plot involving vampires would be the first to spring to mind.
L.T. Kelly lives in Lincolnshire, UK with her husband and two children.