I'm excited to announce that I am over halfway through the first book in a new paranormal romance trilogy! This one will be different from Ignited in several ways. For starters, this is going to be a new adult series, rather than young adult. The action is bigger and badder, the characters more rough around the edges, and the romance is scorching hot. Additionally, it is told predominantly through the leading male's point of voice.
Many may question whether or not they want to read an apocalyptic book. I can assure you that this is not a typical apocalyptic book. There's no alien invasion or killer virus dececrating the population. This is a character-driven plot with a doomsday countdown and a host of paranormal elements. There are surprises. There are twists . . . some small, some big, and some hilarious. There will be bad things happen in book one that will set the pace for book 2 and the rest of the trilogy, and I can't wait for you all to see what happens.
Here is a sneak peek at Marked (Book 1 in The Vessels of The Apocalypse Trilogy):
***GRAPHIC LANGUAGE***
*UNEDITED AND SUBJECT TO CHANGE*
*Copyright Desni Dantone, 2016*
PROLOGUE
My foot hit the gravel that tended to accumulate on the side of the road, and I slipped as I turned to slam the car door shut behind me. Only the grace of God himself kept me from planting on my ass. Pretty sure I might have dislocated my shoulder though.
“Fuck!”
“Jesus, Dylan.” Jake rounded the front of the car, his driver’s side door left wide open and jutting out into the road. The dark, narrow, and deserted road.
The quiet before the storm. The end was near. I felt it, I smelled it, I sensed it. I stared into the fading night, trying not to draw the parallels between the two things that came to an end tonight.
Didn’t work.
I saw nothing but her. Eyes rounded with surprise, then slit in contempt. But it was the transition in between that I couldn’t shake. The one where she looked at me with that nauseating combination of disbelief and disappointment.
“You going to hurl?” Jake asked.
With my hands on the warm hood of the car, head bent over, I waited for the bile to work its way up my throat. But it wasn’t my stomach causing me to feel this way. Something a little higher than that . . .
Jesus. What was next? Turn into a door-opening, hand-holding, poetry-writing pussy? What the fuck was wrong with me?
If only I could get her eyes out of my head . . .
But then she’d never know the truth . . .
She would end up like all the others when the inevitable shit hit the proverbial fan, and I couldn’t . . .
I wouldn’t . . .
I rubbed at the ache to the left of my sternum. “I’ve got to go back.”
“Hmm?” My partner-slash-best friend tilted his head like he hadn’t heard me correctly, because there was no way he could believe that I’d just told him I was going to go back there. Not after what we’d just done, and definitely not when we both knew what was about to happen.
But I was going back. I had to. My mind made up, I turned to face Jake. His mouth worked up and down a few times before he finally managed to make an intelligible noise.
“You said you’re going back?”
I nodded.
“For her?”
My jaw clenched tight. “For her.”
His mouth opened, then snapped shut. He shuffled his feet, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and nodded his head in that way he did when he was trying to decide if I was suicidal or just plain stupid. In our line of work, there were times I could be either.
“Didn’t she tell you to go to hell, or something like that?” he finally asked, as if the reminder of her glaring opinion of me would convince me to change my mind.
If anything, it only spurred me on more. I needed redemption. No way could I go down like this. No way could I let her think the worst of me up until the moment she--
No. I wasn’t going to leave her there. Nothing was going to happen to her. She was too goddamn spunky to go out this way, as evidenced by her final words to me.
“Crawl up my own ass, and die . . . and then rot in hell,” I relayed those words to Jake now with a grin.
“And you want to go back for this girl”—Jake pinned me with the look he gave me when he concluded I was being an idiot—“that obviously despises you.”
“That’s just the thing, Jake.” I patted him on the shoulder. “She only hates me right now, because she likes me.”
His face puckered up in confusion. “I don’t know if I agree with your reasoning. But besides that, you’re missing one very important detail.” He paused for dramatic effect before adding, “If we go back, we’re probably going to die.”
My grin broadened as I moved toward the car door. “Just like any other day at the office.”
Many may question whether or not they want to read an apocalyptic book. I can assure you that this is not a typical apocalyptic book. There's no alien invasion or killer virus dececrating the population. This is a character-driven plot with a doomsday countdown and a host of paranormal elements. There are surprises. There are twists . . . some small, some big, and some hilarious. There will be bad things happen in book one that will set the pace for book 2 and the rest of the trilogy, and I can't wait for you all to see what happens.
Here is a sneak peek at Marked (Book 1 in The Vessels of The Apocalypse Trilogy):
***GRAPHIC LANGUAGE***
*UNEDITED AND SUBJECT TO CHANGE*
*Copyright Desni Dantone, 2016*
PROLOGUE
My foot hit the gravel that tended to accumulate on the side of the road, and I slipped as I turned to slam the car door shut behind me. Only the grace of God himself kept me from planting on my ass. Pretty sure I might have dislocated my shoulder though.
“Fuck!”
“Jesus, Dylan.” Jake rounded the front of the car, his driver’s side door left wide open and jutting out into the road. The dark, narrow, and deserted road.
The quiet before the storm. The end was near. I felt it, I smelled it, I sensed it. I stared into the fading night, trying not to draw the parallels between the two things that came to an end tonight.
Didn’t work.
I saw nothing but her. Eyes rounded with surprise, then slit in contempt. But it was the transition in between that I couldn’t shake. The one where she looked at me with that nauseating combination of disbelief and disappointment.
“You going to hurl?” Jake asked.
With my hands on the warm hood of the car, head bent over, I waited for the bile to work its way up my throat. But it wasn’t my stomach causing me to feel this way. Something a little higher than that . . .
Jesus. What was next? Turn into a door-opening, hand-holding, poetry-writing pussy? What the fuck was wrong with me?
If only I could get her eyes out of my head . . .
But then she’d never know the truth . . .
She would end up like all the others when the inevitable shit hit the proverbial fan, and I couldn’t . . .
I wouldn’t . . .
I rubbed at the ache to the left of my sternum. “I’ve got to go back.”
“Hmm?” My partner-slash-best friend tilted his head like he hadn’t heard me correctly, because there was no way he could believe that I’d just told him I was going to go back there. Not after what we’d just done, and definitely not when we both knew what was about to happen.
But I was going back. I had to. My mind made up, I turned to face Jake. His mouth worked up and down a few times before he finally managed to make an intelligible noise.
“You said you’re going back?”
I nodded.
“For her?”
My jaw clenched tight. “For her.”
His mouth opened, then snapped shut. He shuffled his feet, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and nodded his head in that way he did when he was trying to decide if I was suicidal or just plain stupid. In our line of work, there were times I could be either.
“Didn’t she tell you to go to hell, or something like that?” he finally asked, as if the reminder of her glaring opinion of me would convince me to change my mind.
If anything, it only spurred me on more. I needed redemption. No way could I go down like this. No way could I let her think the worst of me up until the moment she--
No. I wasn’t going to leave her there. Nothing was going to happen to her. She was too goddamn spunky to go out this way, as evidenced by her final words to me.
“Crawl up my own ass, and die . . . and then rot in hell,” I relayed those words to Jake now with a grin.
“And you want to go back for this girl”—Jake pinned me with the look he gave me when he concluded I was being an idiot—“that obviously despises you.”
“That’s just the thing, Jake.” I patted him on the shoulder. “She only hates me right now, because she likes me.”
His face puckered up in confusion. “I don’t know if I agree with your reasoning. But besides that, you’re missing one very important detail.” He paused for dramatic effect before adding, “If we go back, we’re probably going to die.”
My grin broadened as I moved toward the car door. “Just like any other day at the office.”
