Heven & Hell Anthology (Heven and Hell) (24 page)

The third time his phone was ignored I began to lift myself up and away from him. His hand tightened on my hip for the briefest of moments and then he released me. We both climbed to our feet and he went silently to get his coat and pull it on. He didn’t glance at his phone, but I knew all those calls had been from Kimber. I knew when he left me he would likely be going to her.

I could say nothing about it. My hands were tied, but my heart was his.

He looked at me for long moments before plunging his hands deep in his pockets and turning toward the door. I followed him as far as the back of the couch, where I stopped and didn’t move. If I went any closer I might change my mind. I might ask him to stay.

He pulled the door open and cold air swirled into the room, completely breaking whatever spell was left from our time.

Or so I thought.

Because then he turned, leaving the door open, leaving the cold to creep inside, and he came to me. I thought he might touch me, but he didn’t, tucking his hands at his sides instead. I tipped my chin back so I could look into his eyes, which were serious and sober.

“I said I would stay away from you. I said I wouldn’t push. I meant it.”

I didn’t say anything.

“But this isn’t the end, Gems. It’s not. I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but I’m going to prove to you that our being together isn’t wrong.”

“Cole—” I began, but he shook his head.

“You’ll see. And when that happens I’m not ever letting you go again.”

He left then, walking from the room and closing the door behind him. I knew in my heart that there was nothing he could do to prove me wrong.

But that didn’t stop me from hoping he would do it anyway.

Heven & Hell

Bonus Content

Note from the Author

Prop up your feet. Relax. This “note from me” isn’t going to be a long list of names of people I want to thank. That’s what acknowledgements are for. And there are many acknowledgements throughout the series. The thing is the people who know they’re important don’t need another list with their name on it.

Besides who wants to read that?

So what exactly is this note, then?

It’s a secret family recipe!

Okay, it isn’t.

I guess it’s my introduction to the bonus content and also my final good-bye to the series, because once this book is compiled, I’ve pretty much said all I need to say about all things
Heven and Hell
. Not that I won’t still talk about it and try to sell it to you every chance I get, because I will. Ha-ha-ha.

The
Heven and Hell
series was my first published series—my first “baby” in the literary world. It’s been a journey, a learning curve, it’s had its ups and downs, and there have been times I wondered what possessed me to become a writer. But there are also times I wondered why it took me so long to realize that my greatest passion—my perfect “career”—is this.

I don’t really know what else this path has in store for me, but I sure hope it is as wonderful as this and you all will be around to help make it great.

Anyway.

No more of that mushy yapping.

You want to know about the bonus content.

The bonus content integrated in this anthology includes a brand new scene from Jason’s—Heven’s father—point of view. Yes, he died before the books started, but as many of you learned in Renegade, the story really began for Heven when her parents met. This short scene shows how very different Heven’s mother was before she became the woman we knew.

Also included is probably my favorite part of the anthology. The “Rules for a Hellhound” is a fun sheet that I wrote way back when I was first writing
Masquerade
. I realized I hardly knew Sam at all. It kind of makes it hard to write about someone who won’t tell you anything about himself. He was the hardest character I’ve written so far. It seemed he wanted to remain a mystery to everyone—including me. So I created this sheet—facts hellhounds should adhere to. How the hounds were created, their abilities, etc. Also, a short timeline of Sam’s life before he met Heven to help me keep his age and life straight.

For fun, I’ve also included a glossary of supernatural terms and their definitions so I didn’t forget what the heck I was writing about. (Hey, you try and keep all that straight all while listening to Riley whine incessantly about wanting a motorcycle.)

In addition to all that goodness, I’ve put together a sort of yearbook for the characters—their pictures, bios, and some fun facts so you can remember them even after the series is finished. And the cherry on top of it all is the final page: the autograph page. It’s all your favorite characters’ signatures—forever captured.

So that’s the note from me.

Except allow me to pass along one more very wise piece of advice that you may thank me for one day: Always look before you sit. As in, don’t pee without making sure there isn’t something lurking in the toilet. I mean, seriously, if I can write an entire series about hellhounds, then there could be something nasty lurking in your loo.

Keep Reading.

Keep Smiling.

Keep Being You. No one else does you better.

XOXO,

Cambria

For a never-before-seen excerpt written in Jason’s (Heven’s father) point of view about the day he met Madeline (Heven’s mother) and set everything into motion, turn the page.

Jason

The Past

Snow fell from the sky in a frenzy. It never ceased to amaze me how such delicate white flakes could create so much mass. Even from inside the house, staring out through the window, I could feel the bitter cold. It was the kind of cold that would creep through every tiny crack it could find, the kind that had the ability to cause a shiver with just the whisper of a touch.

It was just another blizzard in Maine. Yet somehow this one felt different.

Every breath I took hit the window and created a cloud of fog, further reducing what little I could see outside. The sky seemed to darken by the second and the wind scattered the already growing drifts, pushing them across the yard and covering the already white driveway.

Driving conditions in this kind of weather would be barely manageable. I had to find him.

I turned from the window and grabbed my coat by the door, shoving my arms through the heavy fabric and searching the pocket for my keys.

“Jason?”

I turned, facing my mother behind me. Her golden-brown hair was pulled away from her face and she wore a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. “I’m just going to see if I can find Dad.”

“He wouldn’t want you to go out in this. I don’t either.” Even through her insistence, I could hear the discomfort in her voice.

“I won’t go far.”Actually, I’d go as far as I could, but I didn’t see the point in worrying her. I pulled open the door and stepped forward, trying to block the worst of the cold from getting inside. It was a futile attempt, yet I did it anyway.

Mom followed me out onto the porch, staying beneath the roof as I went down the stairs toward my snow-covered truck. I wrenched open the door, ready to start the engine, when Mom shouted. I didn’t hear her words over the howling, biting wind, but I turned and saw the flicker of headlights coming up the drive.

They glinted through the white wind like a beacon in the night. I grinned and slammed the truck door, relief flooding through me. I waved my arms, knowing he might not even see me and then jogged back up the porch steps.

The car crunched over the sticky, thick snow and then stopped, many yards from where he usually parked. The headlights glared off the snow. But then he cut the engine and the lights, making way for the kind of deafening silence that only came with this weather.

The door to the sedan creaked when it opened and then Dad appeared, grinning. “Made it home just in time, eh?”

“Jason was just about to come searching,” Mom called out from behind.

“I’ve found my way home in worse than this,” he said, reaching in to snatch the keys from the dash. I noticed a shadow of movement in the back seat and my muscles tensed.

“I’ve brought a guest for dinner,” he called.

“Whoever would agree to come to dinner in a blizzard?” Mom called.

Dad shut his door and stepped closer, snow clinging to the ankles of his jeans. “She didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing you found her,” Mom said.

I barely listened to their exchange. I was too focused on the shadow in the back of his car. I felt pulled there, drawn to a person I hadn’t even seen.

Dad opened the back door of the car and leaned in. His voice was low and didn’t carry through the wind, but I saw his lips move. After a moment he stepped back and a figure dressed in black stepped out. She wasn’t very big, not even reaching my father’s shoulder. She kept her head down when she walked. Her almost-black hair curtained her face and acted as a net, catching every single snowflake that dared fall in her path. The sleeves of the black leather jacket she wore fell past her hands and it hung loosely on her thin frame. Her shoes were completely covered by the snow.

She didn’t look up when Dad led her up the stairs past me. She didn’t look up when Gran held open the back door. She didn’t look up as she shrugged out of the leather coat, now wet with melted snow, and my mother flitted from the room to get her a towel. I trudged up the steps, running a hand over the snow that had gathered on my head, and closed the door behind us. I tossed my coat onto the chair next to hers and walked into the kitchen toward the counter.

“Want some coffee?” I asked, turning to look at her.

Finally, she looked up.

Her heavy hair fell in wet waves around her pale, uncertain face. Her eyes were hazel, the kind of hazel that probably darkened or lightened depending on her mood. She didn’t smile. In fact, she looked like a skittish cat ready to bolt at the first sudden movement.

She was pretty, but not exceptionally beautiful. She didn’t have a come-hither stare. In fact, I suspected that the too-dark hair, all black clothes, and suspicious eyes were only there to push away people.

Except I didn’t want to run away from her. I wanted closer. I wanted to protect her from whatever it was that put that timid, fearful look in her eye.

The instinct was so strong I caught myself reaching out to her, but I stopped to instead bury my hands in the front pockets of my jeans.

Mom came back in the room with an armload of towels, way more than one small snow-drenched girl could need, and I took the moment to step away, to turn my back and break the connection I felt toward her.

I looked out the window over the kitchen sink at the swirling, angry blizzard outside. Yes, this one felt different… and now I knew why. I sneaked another quick glance over my shoulder at the girl the snow blew in. It was her.

She was going to change everything.

I didn’t know how. But I knew she would.

Rules for a Hellhound