The Redemption Duet by Sheritta Bitikofer Book Tour and Giveaway :)
The
Rose
The
Redemption Duet Book 1
by
Sheritta Bitikofer
Genre:
Sweet Paranormal Romance
Belle
lives her life from day to day, nearly crippled by her social
anxiety. But if you ask anyone in Levi about it, they'd say she's a
sweet, quiet girl who works hard to keep up her family's small ranch
while holding down a job at the bookstore. No one knows that beneath
her smiles lay a shy introvert who wants nothing more than to stay at
home. It was easier to stay alone, stay isolated. That's when she was
the happiest. But during one thunderstorm, all of that changed and
she met the first man she ever actually wanted to spend time
with.
Leo
made a habit of avoiding people when at all possible. Getting tied
down, making friends, having a life only meant suffering. The
darkness that followed him since his adolescent years never left, not
really. It'd show up and ruin any hint of happiness that came his
way. Running from his past and the brother that cursed him with this
demon, Leo never expected to find something like home in the little
country town of Levi. And he didn't expect one storm to bring him to
the barn of a girl with fire in her eyes and a face as beautiful as a
sunrise. A sunrise that could chase away all the shadows.
For
the first time all day, Belle could finally breathe. As she curled up
her feet on the sofa, a steaming cup of lemon jasmine tea between her
hands, she basked in the comfortable silence. The rain outside had
picked up and she had already spotted a few flashes of lightning
through the speckled windowpanes, but that didn’t bother her. The
thunderstorm added just the right ambience to help her relax. The
last hour had been spent actively trying not to go over the events of
the day. She didn’t want to rehearse every word, every action, or
overanalyze all that had happened to her in the bookstore. All she
wanted to do was let her mind go blank. With the christening sip of
her tea, its aroma soothing her anxious mind, she resolved to do just
that. On
the coffee table sat her laptop and a lit lavender candle that added
to the whole calming atmosphere she strived to create. She glanced to
the screen and watched the four security camera windows with the
black and lime-colored images of her animals in the barn. Three
horses and a small flock of sheep all rested peacefully through the
storm. There was the occasional stirring from an ewe or head toss
from one of her mares, but nothing alarming. Just how she preferred
it. A quiet night recuperating from the chaotic, stressful day. Belle
sunk lower against the mass of pillows and let the tea take effect on
her rattled nerves. This was just another end to a long day that, to
anyone else’s eyes, went off without a hitch. But to Belle, clad in
her soft pajama bottoms and baggy Longhorn shirt, it was one of many
that left her tired, drained, and in need of recharging. All
day, every day, she put on the mask. The one that gave a friendly
smile to everyone, the one that spoke the right words every time, and
never showed how truly terrified she was to be facing a perfect
stranger. She spent so much energy keeping that mask firmly in place
to hide her true self that at the end of the day, all she could do
was crash on the couch with her tea and wonder if this would ever get
easier. Here,
in her home, she was safe to be herself. It was her haven, her port
of call. Her nearest neighbors were at least half a mile away on
either side of her expansive farm, the one that had been passed down
through her family for generations. Everything
in the barn and her two-story little farmhouse whispered the
cherished memories of her childhood and a dozen childhoods before
her. From the dining table in the kitchen that was made by her
great-grandfather, to the wall of bookshelves in the living room
packed with novels that had been collected over decades. Not to
mention the three upstairs bedrooms that stored precious heirlooms
dating back to her great-grandfather’s time when the house was
first built. All of it embraced her and welcomed her into a safe
place she would never trade for the world. She
might have been alone here, but she was happy. Here, she was able to
let down her long brown hair, freeing the waves and curls she tamed
back every day in a ponytail. Here, she could let loose and be who
she wanted to be and not have to fake her own existence for the sake
of being polite and normal. Once
she had drained her first cup, Belle begrudgingly stood from the sofa
and made her way into the adjoining kitchen to pour herself another.
Two more and she’d be ready for bed soon, the pacifying effects of
the brew thoroughly cleansing away her anxiety. Her socked feet
strode across the black and white checkered tiles, the ones her
grandfather had laid when he first brought his new bride home. Her
father once told the story of how she took one look at the patterned
vinyl and demanded it be replaced. The project was completed in just
two days before her grandmother made some comment about the cabinets,
and they were replaced too. Now,
dark wood offset the green countertops, giving the rustic kitchen a
mis-matched look that Belle couldn’t bring herself to remodel.
There was too much character here, and even the thought of replacing
the old appliances made her feel a little sad. So, she tolerated the
dryer that had a mind of its own in the corner with the washer, and
the gas stove that didn’t always want to start, and the
refrigerator whose icemaker broke when she was ten years old. No,
she wouldn’t change a single thing about any of it. As
she poured hot water from her overused kettle over a fresh teabag,
she heard a loud crash followed by a peel of thunder. Belle glanced
over her shoulder to the darkened window but saw nothing except the
pattering of raindrops against the glass. She
went straight to her laptop table and peered at the surveillance
videos. She couldn’t see anything obviously wrong until one of the
feeds showed that the barn door had come unlatched and banged
furiously against the outer wall. This startled the horses and though
there was no sound on the footage, she could hear all three mares
knicker and the loud cries of the ewes over the pouring rain. With
a sigh, she knew she’d have to wait to start on that second cup of
tea until she fixed the door. But just when she was about to turn
away, Belle caught sight of something in the camera. For just a
moment, she thought she saw something moving outside of the animal
pens. It was too big to be a sheep and stood upright like a
person. She
stared at the screen longer, her pulse racing as she tried to make
sense of what she saw. othing moved again, but that didn’t keep
her from spiraling into a panic. Maybe someone had broken into her
barn. Her entire body went ice cold at the thought. Another
clash of lightning made the power flicker and she could see the
bright green glow of the string lights flicker and die in the live
video feed. Belle had convinced her father years ago to rig the barn
with electricity so they didn’t have to take a lantern or
flashlight with them if they had to check on the animals at night.
However, that power had always been glitchy and unreliable at best.
She had left the lights on to give some comfort to the animals during
the storm, but who knew if they would turn back on. Donning
her rubber boots and raincoat, she grabbed a flashlight from the hook
on the wall and dove out into the storm as she tried to ignore every
instinct to stay inside where it was safe and dry. Mud
sloshed all around her pant legs, soaking them through until she felt
the water chill her ankles and seep into her socks. Not even her
boots could keep out the torrential downpour. Plump, cool drops
splashed on her face, thoroughly dampening it despite the hood that
concealed much of her head. The
rain fell across the yellow beam of light, almost obscuring her view.
Somehow through the darkness and haze of rain, she saw the barn door
slapping against the front side of the barn with every gust of
wind. Belle
stopped to examine the damage, her shoes sinking into the deep
puddles that had already formed on the ground. She knew for a fact
that she had locked up the barn before going back inside that night.
The padlock couldn’t have been knocked off by the wind and the key
was still sitting on the kitchen counter. It had to have been broken
by something. Or someone. Fear
rose up in her throat, but she tread softly toward the barn doors.
Belle swallowed hard as she inspected the lock and found that it,
along with the latch, had been ripped completely off, and lay in the
mud just in front of the entrance. Whoever had gotten in was either
incredibly strong or had a tool sturdy enough to rip off the
lock. When
she shined her flashlight around the opening, she saw what the
intruder must have used. An iron crowbar lay in the dirt just inside
the threshold. It hadn’t been there before, but Belle recognized it
as her father’s. His initials had been etched into the handle when
he forged it himself for a school project. Belle
picked up the crowbar and swung the door shut behind her. She pushed
back her raincoat hood and shined her flashlight around inside of the
barn, willing for the beam to stop bouncing as her hands continued to
shake. She swept it along the horse stalls, then to the sheep’s pen
to the far back right corner, then to the old run-down Volkswagen
opposite from them. There
was a thickness in the cool air that confirmed her suspicions that
something wasn’t right. Whoever had broken into her barn must have
still been there, lurking in the shadows where her flashlight
couldn’t penetrate. After
another quick check with her light, she roamed to more closely
inspect the barn. Nothing appeared to be missing in the way of
supplies or animals. Yet, there was still an unease that filled her
spirit. It just didn’t feel right, and she hated the way her heart
pounded against her ribs with painful urgency. Thinking
that it might have been the storm making both herself and her animals
nervous, Belle turned to leave, willing to dismiss what she saw on
the camera feed as a moth or bug that got in the way of the lens.
Maybe the wind had picked up a sturdy piece of lumber and knocked it
against the lock to make it fly off instead of the crowbar she found.
The wood of the barn door wasn’t new by any means and probably bore
the beginnings of dry rot anyway. She couldn’t remember the last
time the latch had been replaced, so it was possible that there was
no intruder after all. That’s what she wanted to believe. Then,
she heard a sneeze. It wasn’t an animal sneeze, as she knew them
all too well. This was a human sneeze and it sounded distinctly
male. Belle
whipped around, crowbar poised and ready to throw or beat down
whoever came near her. Her flashlight darted to all the corners, but
still found nothing. Finally,
she called out in the strongest voice she could muster, “Show
yourself now or I’m calling the cops!” It
took a moment, but there came some movement from the stack of hay
bales near the back wall. Belle, as shaky as she was, stood her
ground and gripped her weapon tighter. Though her teeth were clamped
tight, her ragged breaths came sputtering out from her nostrils.
There was no hiding her fear, no matter how she tried. A
man came forward with his arms raised in submission. He was
shirtless, only clothed in a pair of battered jeans, torn and
stained. His body made the air in Belle’s lungs freeze. Residual
rainwater dripped from his barrel-chest down his toned, rippling abs
and curving along his narrowing waist. He had broad shoulders and
beefy arms as thick around as her thighs, all muscle and power. Her
flashlight stopped at his neck, but her eyes continued to roam
upward. A pair of pure blue eyes sparkled from beneath dark brows. A
beard covered his jaw and around his mouth, as black as the night
sky. His equally dark, damp hair was slightly flattened and tangled
by the storm, its tips grazing against the bare skin of his
collarbone. But
it wasn’t the striking contrast of his hair and eyes that stunned
her. It was the way he looked directly at her, ignoring the weapon
she held, and the harsh light shining on his torso. He wasn’t
afraid, but neither was he on the offensive. There wasn’t a hint of
malice anywhere in his expression. There wasn’t a hint of anything.
He met her stern gaze with a steady, gentle one that both intrigued
and unnerved her even further. Yet,
somehow, she couldn’t look away, even if she wanted to. She would
have given anything to drop her eyes in submission. Her mask wanted
to come up, to protect her from this man and his hypnotic gaze. But,
it couldn’t. Why couldn’t it? Maybe it was the long day or the
tea she had drank earlier. It put her at a disadvantage, and she
wasn’t prepared to face another person that evening. Exposed,
caught off-guard, and terribly vulnerable. Anything could go wrong
here, and she needed to be brave and detached. But the mask wouldn’t
stick as long as this man was looking at her like that. They
stood there, in a stalemate for what seemed like several minutes
before he spoke in a deep voice that rattled her bones. “Are you
still going to call the police?”
The
Lion
The
Redemption Duet Book 2
Belle
Clearwater’s prayers had been answered, but there was still so much
left to discover. Now determined to reject her mental illness, she’s
decided to be brave and not let her anxiety disorder take her away
from what matters. With the help of her friends and her faith, she’s
sure that she can finally have her life back. Something greater is
stirring in her heart and the man that had served as her solid ground
might just send her world off kilter again. All it takes is one
moment of honesty.
Against
every bit of common sense, Leo Thompsons has chosen to stay in Levi.
The Darkness and his murderous brother are closing in, but he
believed that as long as he has Belle, he can find a way to break the
curse upon his soul. With the power of love and prayer, he’s
finally fighting for his life and the chance to share that life with
the beautiful farm girl. Fate brought them together, but is he strong
enough to rebel against the forces of evil that have hounded him for
so long? Can he, once and for all, defeat his demons?
The heaviness continued to drop onto
his chest as Leo drove further and further away from Levi. Further
away from Belle. It always happened every time he distanced himself
from her or the farm. The only way he could reason it was that it
must have had something to do with all that praying she did. Ever since that night when she first
dispelled the darkness with one small, impromptu prayer, Leo began to
see the pattern. On those days she prayed, the darkness stayed away.
His nights weren’t tormented by dreams of fire and death. His soul
didn’t feel as weighted and burdened. So, each morning, he asked if
she prayed and if she said she hadn’t yet, he would slyly drop a
hint that she should. Of course, she didn’t complain. Why should
she? It was nothing to her. Just a string of words sent up to God to
protect them and the farm from evil. But to Leo, it was everything. It meant the difference between walking
around with an easy smile, because he had finally settled where he
wanted to stay, or looking over his shoulder and starting at every
loud noise, thinking it might be the demon coming to collect his
payment. It took a great deal of courage to
mount his motorcycle and head south toward Little Rock, far away from
Belle’s protection and deeper into the world he had tried to leave
behind. It was all for her, though. If he didn’t do this, it’d
take that much longer for Belle to achieve her dreams. One call to an old acquaintance – the
only one he had left that would still speak to him – sealed his
plans for the evening and with a little money in his pocket and a
change of clothes in his duffle bag, he left in the late afternoon. The two-and-a-half-hour drive did
little to settle his nerves or clear his head. He used to love riding
on the highway. Of all the vehicles he had ever driven, the
maneuverability of a motorcycle appealed to him the most. He could
weave in and out of traffic, zoom on and off exits and effectively
lose whoever might happen to be chasing him. On those drives when he
could relax, let the wind pound his face and feel the grind of the
wheels on the blacktop, Leo could zone out and not think so much. He
didn’t have to think about his past or his future. Just this moment
with only him, the road, and the deafening rumble of the engine
beneath him. He could do anything but relax now,
because he knew exactly where he was going and what he’d be doing
that night. Something he thought he’d never have to do again after
he arrived in Levi. It didn’t take long to find the
place. Mack gave detailed directions that a toddler could follow.
Even over the roar of his bike, he could hear the multitude of voices
and music booming out of the warehouse just outside of town. The
parking lot was packed, but he managed to find a cramped spot on the
side closest to the river. Leo didn’t make eye contact with the
people he passed as he made his way toward the entrance. Smokers,
groups of men with beer bottles in hand, couples displaying their
affection in obscene ways, bookies, dealers, and thugs. It wasn’t
so long ago that he knew this scene by heart. Being in Levi had
cleansed him somehow and as he approached the bouncers at the door,
he began to question himself again. The darkness practically lived
here, and in places like it where sin went unchecked. He could feel
its pull, like a black hole that Leo had once dangerously skirted the
edges of not so long ago. And here he was again. Did he really want to do this? He was
capable of it. He was completely capable of winning the money for
Belle’s stallion. But there was no turning back now. He had already
called the man in Fayetteville and made the deal. He was expecting
the money first thing in the morning. “Mack called me in,” he told the
two bouncers who were just a hair bigger than him. The bald one flipped through his
clipboard while the other sized Leo up, taking in his jeans and
leather jacket. Leo could admit that he didn’t look like he was
ready for a fight, but he never needed a fancy rig to pound another
man into the dirt. He learned bareknuckle boxing when he was just a
teen in Brooklyn. Most who did this for a living couldn’t say that. The bouncer made it to the final page
and tapped at the bottom of the sheet. “He penned you in.” “Realized he couldn’t leave out his
best guy.” Leo gave them both a cocky smile and they reluctantly
let him through. In a place like this, arrogance was the common
language. The stench of cigarette smoke and beer
hit him, making his eyes water a bit before he could adjust. The bass
from the speakers beat against his ears and made the fabric of his
clothes vibrate, once more dazing him before he could get a handle on
his senses. He squinted against the flashing strobe lights as he
pushed his way past the throngs. The tip of his boot hit something on
the floor and sent it rolling. He didn’t have to look to know it
was a syringe. His arms reflexively jerked away from the seductive
touches of the women who tried to grab his attention as he looked for
Mack in the crowd. The fight was still a quarter of an hour away. If
he guessed right, the man would be near the bar, taking more bets and
organizing the tournament tree one last time. Leo felt something brush at his pockets
and he turned just in time to seize the hand that tried to make off
with his keys. What he didn’t expect was for his fingers to connect
around a small wrist. The boy looked up at him, the colorful lights
like a kaleidoscope across his youthful face. He couldn’t have been
more than ten years old. He snatched away what was his and set
the boy free, knowing he would just steal again from someone else. As
much as he hated it, the boy wasn’t his responsibility and it
wasn’t his place to correct him. With a sigh, he skimmed the crowd
again and found the Red Socks ball cap bobbing lively across the sea
of strangers. Leo pushed through a cluster of drunken
college students and edged past a tight grouping of ladies in leather
skirts dancing with martini glasses before he could put his hand on
Mack’s shoulder. The manager jumped and spun around,
wide eyes looking through a pair of tinted glasses. When he saw who
had grabbed him, he let out an exaggerated breath. “Scared me, man!” he shouted over
the trap music. “Lookin’ good!” Mack reached out and squeezed
Leo’s bicep in the kind of way that reminded him of a man who
looked to buy a piece of livestock and wanted to test its sturdiness. Leo smacked his hand away, effectively
startling the manager. “I need a place to put my stuff,” he said,
jerking his chin toward the duffle bag slung across his chest. Mack
recovered and offered out his hand to take it there for himself.
“Someplace no one will get to it,” he clarified, unafraid to
sneer at him. It didn’t pay to be friendly in a place like this. Mack’s throat worked when Leo dropped
into that serious tone and then nodded. “All right. All right. I’ve
got a locker in the backroom. You can put it there.” He handed Leo
the tiny padlock key and gave him his usual thorough directions. “When’s my fight?” Leo asked,
making the key disappear in his fist, so no one would try to pinch
it. “You’re my first matchup!” Mack
announced proudly, his one gold tooth blinking in the club lights. As
if to prove that he wasn’t lying, he took the dry erase board he
had been working on at the bar and showed him. The column of names on
one side of the tree didn’t matter to him. The one blank spot where
the winner’s name would be written did. “Rules?” Mack began to list out the scant
regulations set down for the tournament. The only restriction
appeared to be the usual. No eye gouging and no groin shots.
Everything else was permitted until his opponent tapped out or passed
out. “Kicks and grappling?” Leo asked. The manager grinned. “All fair game.” “Payout?” “Six Gs.” More than enough. Leo nodded in
approval and pulled out his wallet to count out the bills. “Buy-in’s five hundred.” He froze in the middle of his count and
shot Mack a glare that could peel paint. “You told me it was four.” The wanker only shrugged. “Must have
misspoke.” Leo feigned a smile. “Must have.”
He stacked what bills were needed to get him into the fight and held
them out for Mack between his two fingers. Before the manager could
take them, Leo grabbed for his shirt collar and pulled him in close.
“You better not cross me on this,” he growled in warning. “If I
find out you skimmed my winnings again, I will find you.”
And Mack knew Leo could. He didn’t
have connections, but he had his demon who loved a good fight. The
bookie’s hairy brows shot up and he nodded quickly, hands raised as
if he had already been caught in the act. “We’re clear,” he assured. “But
I didn’t cross you that time, you know. It was – “ Leo shoved him against the bar counter,
knocking over a few beer bottles in the process as Mack’s feet were
nearly lifted off the floor. He could have easily snapped this
weasel’s spine if he wanted to. Good thing for him, Leo still
needed the money. “I know it was you,” he snarled,
getting close enough, so only Mack could hear him. “Be grateful I’m
in a forgiving mood tonight. Otherwise, you’d be in the river by
now.” Before Mack had a chance to open his
mouth and dig himself a deeper grave, Leo tucked the wad of bills in
his front shirt pocket. Under the watch of several patrons to the
bar, he let Mack nearly crumble in a heap and strode away to find the
locker room. He regretted nothing. Mack was a snake,
no different than any of the other managers and bookies he had met
across the country. They would sooner double-cross someone they
thought wouldn’t notice and take a bigger portion of the payout.
Leo wouldn’t be fooled. Not tonight. Not ever again. Once more, he had to maneuver his way
through the crowd, upsetting plenty and spilling drinks along the
way. The long hallway to the locker room might have been the only
empty place in the club. Can lights lit the path that stretched in a
straight line toward the back of the complex, but shadows lined the
walls and spaces between. Leo gave himself permission to breathe
again, but the darkness was close. He could tell in the subtle drop
in temperature and the way the lights flickered and dimmed. It didn’t
surprise him that the demon would show up here. Away from Levi, away
from his lighthouse of calm, Leo was vulnerable again. But this was
what the darkness wanted. Pain, fear, blood. “I almost thought we’d never be
here again.” The voice scratched at the corners of
his mind, slinking with him along the corridor. He knew, if he cared
to look, what he would see. Either a floating immaterial orb of black
mist, or a form that appeared much less sinister, like a swindling
gambler or underhanded dealer ready to make bargains on souls. By the
more substantial presence in his peripheral vision, he knew it was
the latter. “Don’t get excited,” Leo said.
“I’m not staying.” The demon edged closer in the form of a
man wearing a neatly pressed suit and jacket, jet black hair and
coals for eyes gleaming in the fluorescent light. “Oh, come on. You
know you miss this.”
Leo scoffed. “Yeah, I totally miss
the smell of piss, alcohol, and weed. Such a pleasant smell.” A disturbing laugh bubbled up from the
demon’s throat. “There’s that humor I missed. See, we’re so
much better off here than in that little town in the middle of
nowhere.” He slid a scathing glare to the
darkness, but wouldn’t slow or protest. “Here to collect
payment?” “You’ve had a week off, Leo. Thanks
to that little – “ “If you call her anything but a lady,
I’ll – “ “What?” he snapped. “Punch me?
Strangle me? You forget that you can’t do anything, Leo. You’re
powerless and always will be.” He didn’t need to be reminded.
Whatever the darkness wanted to do, he could do it. Except when Belle
prayed. That was his only saving grace, but there was no way her
prayers could reach this far. Could they? “Just pay attention during the fight
and you’ll get all the payment you need,” Leo directed, slamming
the door in the demon’s face as he walked into the locker room. It did little good. The darkness
rematerialized beside him as he worked the padlock with the key he
had been given. “I know why you’re doing this,”
the demon said, grinning to show his perfectly straight white teeth.
“You’re trying to make your girl happy. It won’t work.” “Watch me,” he dared. “I’ll make you throw the fight.
Take you out of the first round before you can get anywhere close to
the semi-finals.” “You won’t do shi-“ Leo stopped
himself and bit back the word he wanted to use. “You won’t do
anything. Think of all the lads I’ll beat into the floor tonight.
You need that payment. Remember our deal?” Leo stripped off his shirt and wadded
it up before zipping open his bag to shove it inside. He then set to
taking off his shoes and socks to join his shirt. “And you remember what I told you? I
need more than the typical payment, especially since your brother is
getting closer.” One thing about demons, he had learned,
was that they didn’t have an ounce of loyalty in them, not even for
the man who had tethered them to a victim. Twelve years he had lived
with this curse, the darkness serving as the constant thorn in his
side. But he did have one useful thing going for him. He told Leo
when Matthew was catching up. Leo shot a look to the demon to see if
he was lying just to get a bigger blood payment. That was the
agreement they had made months ago. If he did his part and gave the
darkness what he wanted, Leo and Belle would be left alone. Of
course, the game changed when Leo decided to pursue her. Now that
they were living together in a hotspot that the darkness didn’t
care to be in, the cost of their protection went up. “How close?” he asked, hoping for
an honest answer. “Very. And I would rather not be
around when he does come. Think of how mad he’ll be when he finds
out I’ve been masking your trail for the sake of an extra fix.” That was laughable. “You poor wee
thing,” he mocked. He crammed his duffle bag in the locker,
thoughtless to how the luggage would damage Mack’s package of
cigarettes or the tiny bundle of cocaine tucked away in the back. Leo
hoped he busted the plastic bag. “Why don’t we stay in Little Rock?
It’s such a fun town,” the darkness suggested as Leo began the
methodical process of wrapping his hands in the gauze and athletic
tape to protect his knuckles. By the end of the night, they would be
stained red with blood. “After this is over, I’m going to
Fayetteville.” The demon came around to face Leo.
“There’s nothing in Fayetteville worth seeing.” “And then I’m going back to Levi,”
Leo stated impatiently, as if he had been saying it all night in one
way or another. He wouldn’t leave Belle, no matter how much the
darkness wanted him to. Like she said that day when he almost skipped
town without telling her, he needed to take control of his life, one
choice at a time. This choice, though made for odd purposes, was what
he wanted, and the darkness would not pressure him into returning to
this way of living – if it could even be called that. “Why not stay a few days?” he said,
almost whining like a child who was denied candy and was one refusal
away from throwing a tantrum. “We could use some of the winnings to
get a hotel, order room service, order some girls and – “ Leo shot daggers with his eyes that
instantly made the vile mouth shut tight. He would have threatened to
leave Little Rock right then if he thought it would do him any good.
The darkness was smart enough to know that Leo needed this money just
as badly as he needed the blood payment. He finished wrapping his hands and left
the locker room just as he heard the music dim for a minute to allow
the presenter to publicize the first match. He didn’t care if the
darkness followed or not. He’d be in the crowd, watching, absorbing
the pain and misery of Leo’s opponents. It’d be just like old
times. Unceremoniously, Leo entered the main
hall where the fighting would take place. His bare feet slapped
against the cold concrete floor, wetted by the spilled beer and
liquor from earlier that night. Mack was by his side as if he were a
personal sponsor and hyped up the crowd when his name blared over the
intercom. Men roared and cheered while women let out whistles and
offers that were lost in the din. He was led to the center of the room
where one bright light hovered over the space sectioned off for the
tournament. Spectators leaned on the rope
partitions to get a look at Leo as he swaggered forward to meet his
first opponent. As always, his stomach tangled, but then he reminded
himself that as long as his brother’s curse tarnished his soul,
there was little man could do to him. He was kept alive to suffer and
cause suffering for others. He’d get hurt, but death wasn’t in
his near future. Not yet. The ropes were closed behind him and he
raised his fists, keeping his stance easy and light. The other man,
leaner and an obvious novice, blew air past his protective mouthpiece
and hopped about like an eager boxer. Don’t waste your energy, he told
himself. You’ve got a long night to go. When the bell sounded, and the crowd
shouted for their favorites, the thinner man came charging forward
with a wild hook. Leo dodged and sent an uppercut into his ribs. The
guy recoiled and put a hand to his side, eyes wide like he had never
expected to be hit. Leo shook out his hands and flexed his
unpracticed knuckles. His fight with Drake was the last time he’d
ever hit bone that hard. He readied himself again for the next
assault, but was disappointed when the man came at him again with a
similar greenhorn move. He left himself open and Leo took the
opportunity. He ducked and wrapped him in a chokehold from behind.
One kick to the back of his leg buckled him to the ground. For a
minute or two, they grappled with one another. Leo saw stars each
time a punch connected with his head, but he willed himself to stay
conscious during every reversal. Limbs twisted as they rolled across
the concrete, scraping the skin of their arms and backs along the
way. Each time he thought the guy would tap
out, he kept coming at him with more desperate jabs and kicks. Leo
felt a bit of blood trickle from his nose after an elbow slammed into
his face. He could taste its metallic essence on his lips. He was kicked off and stumbled
backward, giving his opponent time to jump to his unsteady feet. Leo
wouldn’t give him the chance. He landed one solid punch to the jaw.
He heard the crack, but didn’t care. The man finally crumbled to
the floor and he waited for a hand to smack the pavement. When it did, Leo spat a bit of the
blood from his mouth and looked up. His eyes instantly met the
devilish stare of the darkness in the crowd. The black pits that bore
through him told enough. This tournament wouldn’t be a walk in the
park for him like it used to be. The demon would drag this out and
make the poor boys he fought think they had a chance against him. The darkness wasn’t just in the
business of making Leo’s life a living hell. He’d also drag along
any other susceptible soul with him. That was why he needed to
protect Belle, the only thing he cared about anymore.
An
author of paranormal and urban fantasy fiction, Sheritta Bitikofer
lives for the deep, engaging stories that enthrall readers from cover
to cover. As a wife and fur-mama of eclectic tastes, she can be found
roaming Civil War battlefields, perusing the romance section of the
bookstore, or relaxing with a plate of chili cheese fries.
Take
a look at the books she has available and stay tuned for new
releases.
Q: What did you enjoy most about
writing this book?
A: I enjoyed writing the Redemption
Duet (The Rose and The Lion) because it taught me a lot about myself.
Belle represents Anxiety and Leo represents Depression. Both, I
believe, I’ve felt on at least a rudimentary level. There’s so
much misconception about them and from a lot of my other posts, you
should probably be able to guess that I try to clear up those
misconceptions. Writing this duet forced me to look at myself, look
at the mental illnesses, and all the ways that people can pull
themselves out. While I hope it’s therapeutic for some to read it,
it was cathartic for me to write it.
Q: What are you passionate about these
days?
A: History and writing. If you took a
look at all the book orders that have been coming in over the last
few months, you’d wonder if I was trying to start my own Civil War
reference library. Of course, I’m getting my collection prepped for
when I’m ready to start the historical fiction series, too. And the
other half are books about how to write. Creative writing is an
ongoing learning experience. You’re never really “done”
learning. There’s always other authors to learn from and stories to
write. It’s like being a doctor who practices medicine. They’re
still “practicing” even up to the point when they retire. Same
for writers. Never stop learning.
Follow
the tour HERE
for exclusive content and a giveaway!
Comments
Post a Comment