Текст книги "Fear You"
Автор книги: B. B. Reid
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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
Dear Reader . . .
I hope I gave you what you were looking for. Keiran, “The Dark Lord,” as Willow spitefully dubbed him, with all his unredeemable qualities managed to find his happily-ever-after with the only person who was brave enough to venture into the dark and pull him out.
Bringing them together was no easy feat, but if they could do it, I know there is hope for Keenan & Sheldon…
Don’t forget to review where you purchased Fear You and on Goodreads, too.
Continue on for TWO Sneak Peeks . . .
Sneak Peek – Fear Us, By B.B. Reid
Fear Us (Broken Love, #3)
Coming Fall 2015
KEENAN
“Keenan! What are you doing? This isn’t you!”
“Yeah?” I stared down at her body splayed out for me like an offering I had just recently finished devouring. “You think you know me?”
“What? Of course I do,” she whispered softly. I didn't like the way she gazed up at me with love in her eyes. Her love was a lie. Love was just that. A lie.
“You don’t fucking know me. You never did.”
She tried to lift up, but the belt wrapped around her neck and tied to the iron rails of her headboard stopped her movements.
“I watched him do this to her one night.”
“What?” I ignored the confusion in her eyes and continued.
“I wanted to see what it was he was doing to her. I wasn’t looking for pleasure. I was curious. Just me trying to be a good guy. I actually thought I might have been willing to protect her if need be because she couldn’t protect herself. But then she fucking took him. She actually decided to be with him—thinking he could and would change. He won’t. And she won’t realize it until it’s too late. She’s already trapped.”
“Keenan, please—”
“I always wondered what kind of desire he could get from someone he claimed to hate. Now I fucking know.”
“You hate me?”
“What I feel for you goes far beyond hate. I needed you, Shellie, and you turned your back on me just like she did.”
“I am not your mother, Keenan!”
“Oh, I know that. The difference between you and her was that I actually believed you loved me.”
“I do!” she cried out and struggled against her bonds.
“Then prove it.” I gritted my teeth in anger. My internal fight was threatening to surface. I needed to stay levelheaded.
“How?”
“Run away with me.”
“What?”
“You’re either going to run with me or run from me. Make your choice.”
“Keenan, I love you.”
Hope. That’s what I felt. I was glad I could still feel at all.
“So you’ll come with me then?”
That was until she took it away.
“No.”
Sneak Peek – Project: Killer, by J.L. Beck
COMING MAY 2015
Prologue
Killer
It all started with a kiss. It wasn’t one of those sappy ass ones where there is affection and sparks flying and you just fucking know they’re the one for you. No, this was a different kind of kiss. It wasn’t a spark, but a simple touch of one’s skin against another. I would like to think somehow that simple gesture had triggered something into motion. That somehow that one kiss had signified our entire being of life—it didn’t.
The kiss meant nothing, and the feelings formed from within because it meant nothing. Every time I thought of Maggie, the way her brown hair billowed in the wind, the way her small hands clasped mine, it reminded me of the illness, the death that plagued me. It reminded me of the clock that slowly ticked inside of me.
I was dying, and there was nothing anyone could do. There was no cure, no miracle for someone like me. After all, millions of people lost their loved ones, so what would one more loss be? What would me not dying do for the world? Nothing.
Eventually, I would be replaced. The school would get a new student, the teachers would forget I ever existed, and Maggie—sweet little Maggie would move on and find someone new. My parents would have another child and life would be normal. Normal for everyone but me.
See, I wouldn’t get to live such a lavish life. No, the life I would live would make me wish that the cancer had killed me. That it had eaten away at everything that made me who I was. Why, you ask? Simply because the person I was being morphed into, the man they were making me be was anything less than death. He was ruthless, angry, and hateful. He thought for no one but himself. He was careless, his needs only being met with sex and violence.
His memories would be wiped away, yet a small girl with red cheeks and brown hair would still find her way into his dreams. He would grow to hate the little girl for not being able to remember the memories or where she came from and it would drive him insane.
He would eventually become one of the world’s most trained fighters. Genetically mutated to the government’s liking. Turned into something he never wanted—something he never should’ve been.
Now you see that his legacy or the memories of who he was would never be remembered simply because there was nothing to remember about a twelve-year-old boy who should be dead. No family, friends, or loved ones to care.
He was a killer and I am he.
CHAPTER ONE
MAGGIE—THE PAST
I hated when the other kids laughed at him. They would push and shove him, not even caring that he was sick. Sometimes, I wanted to push them back or scream at them to leave him alone. Except I knew no one would listen to me. They never did. Instead, I sat in the background waiting until the moment I could swoop in and care for him.
He was taller than the other kids were, even at the age of sixteen, and just as cute. It didn’t matter to me how his skin was almost always ghostly white or how he would much rather not be wearing jeans but something that didn’t cling to his body. To me, he was perfect.
“What’s a matter, Diesel…? Maggie not make you your breakfast this morning?” Roger, one of the biggest bullies of them all, mocked Diesel. This was a normal occurrence on the bus. Every morning the same conversation would take place. I was starting to wonder when it would stop. Diesel ignored him like always and stared out the window. I watched from the seat across from him as Roger took the seat behind him and shoved his knees into the back of the seat.
Fury grew deep within me. Diesel had told me many times that me sticking up for him just made things worse and how there was nothing worse than a girl sticking up for a boy. It was against the rules. One would say I was a rule breaker.
“Knock it off, Roger,” I murmured. Diesel’s steel blue eyes turned to mine shooting daggers at me. I could tell by that one single look, I had angered him.
“Awe, what was that you said, Maggie? I couldn’t quite hear you—then again, most of us never do.” He belittled me, laughing as his friends joined in on it.
“Just leave her alone,” Diesel exclaimed giving them the satisfaction they wanted. They wanted him to talk to stick up for me—for anything—simply because it showed he had a weakness for something.
“You guys hear this… He wants us to leave Maggie alone.” Roger mocked some more, and I did whatever I could to not turn toward Diesel to see his expression.
You’re a weakness to him. They will use you to get to him. I repeated the same words over and over again in my mind.
I became momentarily distracted as I talked myself out of sticking up for him again. So much so, I hadn’t noticed Roger had slipped into my seat. His eyes were a deep brown and had most of the girls in the school falling at his feet. All except for me. I knew the meanness that was just under the surface.
“Maggie…” he hissed, one of his fingers gripping at a lock of my hair. A tingle of pain radiated through my scalp as a soft yelp left my lips.
“Leave me alone, Roger.” I kept my voice stern and strong not wanting him to think his hair pulling had gotten the best of me.
“Leave you alone…?” he mocked, a sick smile forming on his face. If Roger weren’t such a dog, one would consider him cute. He had that beautiful sandy brown hair. He was tall and played all kinds of sports. His parents could afford it, unlike Diesel’s or mine.
“Roger, this is taking it a little far,” Diesel said. You could hear the panic in his voice. Even if he said we weren’t friends because a dying person couldn’t make friends with someone in such a short amount of time, I knew I meant something to him.
“Does it bother you when I touch her, Diesel? Are you jealous?” Roger mocked, his hand slipping onto my leg. I was wearing a skirt, which was a bad wardrobe choice for the day. I swatted his hand away, only for him to bring it back and grip my thigh hard.
“Let go of me,” I said through gritted teeth. Roger had never taken it this far. He had never tried to instigate in a physical way.
“Roger, let go of her.” There was vengeance in Diesel’s eyes, and his voice was strong. He moved to the edge of his seat and leaned over and gripped Roger’s shoulder.
“Get your hand the hell off me, cripple…” Roger rolled his shoulders forcing Diesel’s hand to fall away. I gripped Roger’s wrist prying it from my thigh.
“If you ever get done playing with the crippled boy… you know where to find me,” Roger whispered in my ear causing my hair to move. I could feel the heat from his breath against my skin and it just made me sick.
Without a word said, I turned away from him and toward the window waiting for him to leave. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him watch me for a mere second, his eyes eating away at my body, and then as he slipped from my seat and into his regular seat a ways back.
I released the breath I had been holding and allowed fresh oxygen to filter into my lungs. Roger was a monster. The living, breathing kind your parents forgot to tell you about. The kind that had the power to make your life a living hell day in and day out. He did just that.
“I told you not to stick up for me.” Diesel’s voice was right next to me, and as I turned around to see where he was, I came face to face with him. His dark hair was long and slung back in a ponytail. He was looking at me with anger in his eyes, anger I had never seen.
“Well, I told you I wouldn’t let them pick on you anymore. They don’t know what they’re saying. They’re dumb.” They didn’t know the reason Diesel was sick or why he didn’t talk to others. They didn’t know it was because of the cancer that surged through his veins.
“They know what they’re saying, Maggie,” he scoffed, his attention going back toward the front of the bus. “You always try to see the good in people. You always try to protect the weak. What you don’t understand is I don’t need protecting.” He turned back toward me, his eyes boring into mine.
“You can’t save everything. You can’t save me,” he hissed out. My gaze slid down to his clenched fists, his body built up with aggression. I understood why though. I knew he didn’t want to be protected, and he didn’t want even one friend if there was a chance he would die—and there was. Friends meant when you died you would leave someone behind. You would have a reason to feel guilty about your death. He didn’t want that.
“I don’t want to save you, Diesel,” I murmured.
“Yes, you do. You. The doctors. My parents. They all want to save me. Everyone wants me to live except myself.” There was so much agony in the words he was saying. It was as if he knew his fate and that fighting it was inevitable.
“That isn’t true—” My words cut off as his hand landed on my knee gripping it. He wasn’t hurting me, but he easily could. Even if he was sick, he still had strength.
“It is true. Believe me when I say it’s true. I know what you all think. I know you assume sticking up for me makes it better, maybe you even think if you’re nice to me, when I die, God will grant you something special.”
“That’s not the p—” My words were cut off again as he squeezed my knee. Pain radiated up my leg, and I bit my lip to stifle the cry that wanted to escape my mouth.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Maggie. I don’t want to do anything to ruin you, but whatever you think is going on between us, isn’t. Whatever help you think you can offer, you can’t. In the end, you only hurt yourself and bring more attention to me. Attention I have no need to seek.”
My mind was blank. Like a chalkboard that had been wiped clean. I had nothing to say—at least nothing worth saying. He didn’t care. He didn’t want support, and even though it broke my heart to see others beat him with their words and hands, there was nothing I could do to save someone who didn’t want to be saved. He was right… I was putting my nose somewhere it wasn’t needed. I had been for six months now.
“Do you understand me?” he asked softly. His voice caressed my body in a blanket of warmth. He didn’t realize the good he could produce.
I nodded my head, willing the tears on the verge of slipping from my eyes away. Be strong.
“Good,” he said satisfied with the conversation. His hand slipped from my knee. I had to force myself not to rub the pain out of it.
The rest of the bus ride consisted of me sitting in the far corner of my seat staring out the window pretending his body heat wasn’t what I was feeling next to me. I was forcing myself to not lash out and say something to him—something that would only push him further from me.
As we pulled up to the school and the bus stopped, my heart felt as if it were going to beat out of my chest.
“Remember what I said, Maggie.” His voice was a whisper in the wind as he got out of the seat and pushed into the line to get off the bus. Those words would be the last he would ever speak to me unless I instigated him.
I couldn’t force myself to move. It was as if I had lost control of my body.
Eventually, I found my bearings and slipped into the back of the line, my mind drifting to Diesel’s words. I can’t be saved… Maybe he didn’t think he could be saved, maybe he didn’t think he was worth it—but I did.
Diesel was worth saving. He just didn’t know it yet.
Acknowledgments
Writing Fear You was a lot different from when I wrote Fear Me. With my debut novel, I didn't have the support of my family, readers, or bloggers because I kept my dream a secret for as long as I could for fear of failure.
This time around, I had a huge support system. Fear Me’s success was a wonder, and I have many people to thank for it. Because of you all, there is heavy anticipation for Fear You and I love it.
Family and Deven—as always, thank you for the support and putting up with my lack of time. Your patience has not gone unnoticed.
Pussycat Promotions, you guys put me on the map, and I owe a lot of my reader base to you ladies. Thank you, Kimie, Sharee, Kimmy, and Stephanie.
Robin, you were wonderful. You were always available and ready to help, and I’ll never forget it.
To ALL of the Twisted Sisters, you rock! I love everyone’s craziness and openness. Di, you were my inspiration for Diana though I’m not sure people will love you too much. However, your constant request for me to kill you offered me many laughs. Thank you!
Josi (J.L.) Beck, you blew in like a storm and like the dork you are. Thank you for listening to my many rants and your support. You graciously offered to advertise Fear You in your book and that means a lot to me. We are becoming great friends, and I hope it stays that way!
Jordan Silver you rock for many reasons with your unique, special ways! Thank you for welcoming me to your readers.
Rogena, I am so excited we are working together to edit Fear You. I can’t wait to see it all come together.
BEBE’s STREET MASTERS! My newfound and wonderful street team. Ladies, you are wonderful. That’s all I can say. We are a family of weirdos, and I love each and every one of you. Thank you for all the hard work.
Lisa, Angel, Tracey, Lydia, Vickie, Jamie, Ria, Sammy, etc. The list goes on for miles. You guys are awesome readers, and I thank you! If you have been an avid audience, then you know who you are!
Amanda, thank you for two awesome covers! I can’t stop staring!
Also By B.B. Reid
Broken Love Series
Fear Me
Fear You
Fear Us (Fall 2015)
Breaking Love (Coming Soon)
Contact the Author
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Goodreads: http://bit.ly/10dffd6
About B.B. Reid
B.B., also known as Bebe, found her passion for romance when she read her first romance novel by Susan Johnson at a young age. She would sneak into her mother's closet for books and even sometimes the attic. It soon became a hobby, and later an addiction, influencing her life in a positive way.
Bebe is fresh out of undergrad college and has always wondered about the existence of her talent. When she finally decided to pick up a metaphorical pen and start writing, she found a new way to embrace her passion.
She favors a romance that isn't always easy on the eyes or heart, and loves to see characters grow—characters who are seemingly doomed from the start but find love anyway.
Fear Me, her debut novel, is the first of many.
