A sneak peek at CHAINS OF FROST: (copyright T. A. Grey, 2011)
Win a free copy of Chains of Frost by T. A. Grey
She stood on shaky legs and tried hard and fast to remember what had happened. Cemetery, spell casting, demonic zombie roaring her name, then to bed. Typical night, really. She gasped as she recalled the not typical. Two men interrupting her sleep and knocking her out with something that pinched her neck.
Spinning around, she caught sight of a man looking out a massive arched window. Shoot, that wasn’t a man. As silently as she could, she kept her eyes on him and backed up. Don’t hear me.
The man was huge, though not in a steroid-taking, pumping iron way. He was tall and his shoulders filled that wide-open window that really needed bars or something over it to keep people from, oh, falling to their death. His back and lean hips caught her attention next. He wore a black long-sleeved shirt and matching pants yet the simple ensemble made him look dangerous in an “I’m completely normal” way. Even his hair was dark and strange looking. Long and pulled back in a severe tie at the back of his head.
Three more, silent steps backwards on the freezing cold floor beneath her bare feet. “Surely you at least wish to know who I am before you leave.” She jumped at the sound of his voice and tripped over a table behind her.
She tumbled to the ground, her butt skidding on the cold stone floor. Quickly disentangling herself, she stood, clutching the towel tighter around her. His voice… It was cold and hard. It held a tone to it that could mistakenly be construed as passive or bored but she was sure was just indifference. Was this what a killer sounded like? He could talk to you in that detached voice as he swung the sword that would take your head.
She thought briefly about righting the table she knocked over but decided edging towards the huge double-sided door was the smarter idea. Escape. She took another silent step towards those doors.
He turned towards her and her feet stopped moving. It was the complete opposite of what she should be doing, yet she couldn’t will her body to move anymore than she could tear her eyes away from him.
She knew instantly who he was.
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T. A. Grey
Writing with T.A. Grey 