After waking naked in the middle of Las Vegas, a shadow-shifter fears he’s losing control of his other half: a bloodthirsty silhouette. Estranged from his deceitful family and thrust into a supernatural underground crime ring, Rocco must conquer his shadow before it consumes him— and butchers all he holds dear.
First page of manuscript:
Based on the stink, I could be anywhere in Vegas.
A revolting coalescence of sweating bodies, fast food, and strong alcohol permeates the air; a scent that’s useless in determining my location.
Harsh, flashing lights press through my eyelids. The ground, cold to the touch, would be soothing if it didn’t send a shiver up my spine.
My muscles tense to rise, but pain sears the crown of my head and nausea pools in my stomach.
Shit, even the headaches I get after being blackout drunk aren’t this bad.
God, last I remember, I was in the storm tunnel…the ambush….
I can’t think about it. Not now.
Voices surround me—English, Spanish, French, Italian, flipping through phrases I can’t discern amidst whoops and giggles of excitement.
A high-pitched whizzing sound, like scissors curling a piece of ribbon. A zipline?
I crack my eyes open. Cameras flash; purple neon lights glare. My vision blurs. I can’t take it. I turn on my side, pushing myself up, and heave.
When my stomach is empty, the pain subsides into a dull throb. I focus on the cracked gray concrete beneath me. My arms quiver, my hands—one of them is black, am I a shadow? No, I feel solid. My right hand, not black but gold, glitters beneath the streetlights.
Molten gold, like her eyes.
Memories hammer through my head.
The tunnels. The girl. The gun I pulled out of thin air.
I shouldn’t have been able to do that.