Veined
Guardians
of the AngelsBook I
Anyta Sunday
Genre: YA Paranormal Romance
ASIN: B005J1L41Y
Number of pages: 446 pages
Word Count: 85000 words
Cover Artist: Caroline Wimmer Streiflicht Fotografie
Book Description:
It
could be worse for Sylva Lark. She could be dead. A coma was nothing
to that. Or her family moving across country for the treatment,
leaving her with a big blue mark on her back.
She
can handle it.
Mostly.
Except
the mark glows and tingles, especially whenever transition helper
Atticus Plot (Attic) is close by. She suspects he’s hiding
something, and when she stumbles across a torn body bearing the same
spiral marking as her own, that suspicion is confirmed.
After
a few shaves with death, the truth finally comes out and the battles
begin.
But
not all her fights are external; her biggest one is the decision she
has to make between doing the right thing for the world and giving up
her beloved family for good.
Veined
Excerpt (Partial of first Chapter):
DAYTIME
TELEVISION SOAPS are funny. Brain transplants, lovers that turn out
to be related, and characters that slip into comas. Yeah, I'd thought
soaps pretty darn hilarious until the day I woke up from a coma.
And
into this drama. I bit my bottom lip and looked at the doctor
(Albelin, as he’d introduced himself seconds ago). Although Albelin
stood next to the bed, his voice echoed like he was at the other end
of a tunnel. “. . . coma . . . much sooner than anticipated.”
Goose
bumps dotted my skin and I tucked the hospital sheet—the only thing
covering my body save a pair of ungenerous undies that were giving me
a wedgie—tightly under my arms.
My
thoughts spiraled. I strained to recall how I’d arrived here in the
first place, but I couldn't remember much. There had been a flash of
color, and then—blank.
Albelin's
curly black hair swished as he moved his gaze away from me and toward
his vibrating pocket. Something on the side of his neck caught my
attention. A black tattoo, like the wing of an eagle. But it
disappeared behind his collar as he pulled out his phone. He scanned
the screen, and then stuffed the phone back into his pocket. “Your
family is on their way,” he said.
My
family. Faces and partial memories popped up like a black-and-white
film, with someone slowly winding the crank. A blonde woman
unraveling a kite—Mom. A man in a police uniform—Dad. And a boy
building a Lego tower—Jeffrey.
“Right.”
The word felt hollow and scratched the inside of my throat. Using the
corner of the sheet to cover my mouth, I coughed. It hurt my chest
and sounded wet.
With
watery eyes, I scanned the room. I’d been so stuck on the word
coma, I’d failed to notice my basic surroundings. My coughing came
to an abrupt stop, but my thoughts continued to gallop. It wasn’t
as though I knew what coming out of a coma should feel like, but I
had an idea what it should look like. Where was the respirator? The
drip? Heart monitor? In fact, the only features of the room that
indicated hospital were the green walls and linoleum flooring.
Albelin
must have read my panicky expression as I’d surveyed the room,
because he started to explain, “We used a new method involving
electro-magnetism to bring you back to consciousness. That’s why
you aren’t wearing anything and why you shouldn’t have any issues
with muscle deterioration. That, and we’ve given you protein
supplements.”
Electro-magnetism?
That sounded like something I’d hear in a physics class. My stomach
flipped and I swallowed the awkward laugh that rose to my throat and
caused a gurgling sound. This wasn’t just some run-of-the-mill
hospital at all. Maybe it was experimental, maybe there'd been no
other option. Oh, God, what happened to me?
I
craned my neck from side to side. My muscles were stiff, but at least
I was conscious. I let out a shuddering breath and blinked back the
water pooling in my eyes. I didn't care that I was seventeen and
supposed act big and brave and something close to an adult. Right now
all I wanted was my mom.
Albelin
smiled, barely crinkling the skin at the sides of his eyes, but his
smile didn't soothe the erratic butterflies in my belly. If anything,
it made them worse; he was so young to be a doctor. He couldn’t
have been more than twenty-five.
Reaching
under the bed, he pulled out a duffel bag and handed it to me. My
duffel bag. The one I took to gymnastics trainings. “Here are some
clothes for you to change into.”
I
twisted the familiar canvas handles around my palm.
“Showers
aren’t far,” he added, “just out those doors, second on the
left. Towel’s in the bag. Let me help you there.”
Holding
the sheet, I stood up. My legs felt like jelly, but I shook my head
at Albelin’s offer. “I think I can manage.” I wobbled my way
toward the swing doors.
Albelin
raced to my side. “I insist on helping you.”
He
attempted to brace my elbow, but I pulled away. “Thanks, but—but—”
I needed alone time. To think. And I didn’t want anyone touching me
while I was wearing practically nothing but a sheet. "I'll be
fine, really. I'll yell if I need help."
As
soon as I was in the hall, I rested one hand against the wall and
used it as a crutch. I was doing all right considering I’d not used
my legs in weeks.
Light
filtered through the windows, imprinting squares on the opposite
wall. I pressed my hand in the center of one as I looked outside onto
the street. Mom, Dad and Jeffrey would be coming soon.
I
jumped, dropping the duffel bag when a flash of black whizzed by. A
tall guy wearing a green T-shirt and tight black gloves up to his
elbows was striding down the hall. I lunged to grab the bag, but my
foot caught in the sheet, ripping it from under my arms. My head
jerked up as the scratchy cotton sunk to my feet and I chased after
it.
Palms
sweating, I wrapped the sheet tightly around me, heat swelling my
cheeks. At least he'd jerked his head away. Still, it didn't stop my
heart from thumping double-to-one in embarrassment.
Pick
up the bag and move. Go shower.
He
glanced back, sweeping his hair to the side. With a chuckle, Gloved
Guy passed by and pushed through the swinging doors of my room. As
soon as he was behind them, Albelin greeted him. It sounded like they
knew each other well. I reached to pick up the duffel bag and
stopped.
“Her
name’s Lark?” Gloved Guy’s voice sounded amused by my name.
“Like the bird?”
I
crept closer. Why was Albelin talking about me?
“Sylva
Lark,” Albelin corrected.
“And?”
“And
she’s veined.” . . .
~*~*~
Lethed
Guardians
of the AngelsBook II
Anyta Sunday
Genre: YA Paranormal Romance
ASIN: BOOB8CKHRK
Number of pages: 418 pages
Word Count: 75000 words
Cover Artist: Caroline Wimmer Streiflicht Fotografie
Book
Description:
Sylva
Lark made her choice.
Now
she has to adjust to Guardian life. Training. Killing demons.
Controlling her powers.
If
only giving up her family wouldn’t hurt so damn much, . . . and if
there wasn’t a strange attraction to the betrothed Prince Atticus
she just met . . .
Amongst
murder and mayhem, and toeing an unclear line between right and
wrong, Sylva and her fellow Guardians must find a way to secure
Eirene.
But
it’s not easy going up against underworld Queen Furie when those on
Sylva’s side are hiding secrets . . .
Will
they succeed in protecting the home of the angels? Or will they fail,
submitting the heavens to the fate of Furie?
And
will Sylva and Attic ever remember what they mean to each other?
Or
will they stay forever Lethed?
Lethed
(Partial of First Chapter):
SOMETHING
WATCHED ME. I sensed its sadistic presence. Tingles of anticipation
snaked from the nape of my neck down my spine.
With
one hand pressed firmly on my rickety, white-picket side gate, I
glanced over my shoulder.
The
tree-lined street stared back at me. Snow-dusted branches accentuated
the silky navy sky, and meager yellow light leaked from the
lampposts.
I
strained to hear the telltale crunching of snow. Nothing. Breathing
in, I sought the sour smell of evil in the breeze or the tinny smell
of blood—a scent I’d become familiar with in the last few months.
Again,
nothing.
Just
a sharp cold that promised winter would linger this year.
My
shoulders sagged in relief. I wasn’t supposed to be out alone—I
promised Albelin I’d always take another Guardian with me if I left
the motel premises. Perhaps my guilty conscience was responsible for
this strange sensation of evil.
I
hadn’t wanted to disobey him. Not really.
I
clutched the gate, its splintered edges digging into my palms, and
studied the house in front of me.
Steadying
my breath, I opened the latch and pushed through to the path. Frosty
stalks of lavender brushed the back of my hand in a light, swirling
breeze as I took in the large acorn tree. Beyond it, the luminescent
windows radiated warmth and beckoned me home.
No,
I didn’t want to disobey Albelin.
I
needed to.
Like
every week, I crept to the side of the house and peered into the
living room. Slouched on the couch watching TV, Mom sat with her head
resting on Dad’s shoulder, and Mottle was tucked into the small
space between them. My brother Jeffrey wasn’t in the room—but it
was near midnight, so he probably lay tucked up in bed.
Dad
kissed the top of Mom’s head and her lips moved. Love you too,
honey.
I
wondered if Dad heard Mom’s whispered words. It seemed cruel that I
could hear the words meant for him when I wanted them to be meant for
me.
But
they couldn’t ever be for me anymore. Not since I’d chosen to
give them up to become an angel-protecting, demon-killing Guardian.
My
stomach roiled and I stifled a cry.
I
slunk back into the shadows, waiting for the warm weight of darkness
to smother me into numbness again. It worked the last three months.
Digging
each jagged fingernail into my sweaty palms, I counted down from ten.
I looked forward to replacing the frustration and hurt with dull
throbbing. But at “one,” nothing changed. I backed up harder
against the corrugated fencing behind me, the cold seeping through my
shirt.
Dad’s
head jerked back in laughter that verged on maniacal. It used to make
me laugh, too—at Dad. But now it made me want to bang on the
windowpane until it shattered, and with it the thick wall of memories
they couldn’t see between us.
I
twisted the ring on my little finger, hoping the comforting tic would
help me.
It
stopped me from yelling out, but it didn’t curb the tears. Sizable
drops splashed onto my hand as I wiped a sniffle from my nose.
I
instantly forgot about the tears as a ripping pain sliced down my
forearm. Blood seeped through my light-blue sleeve. I whistled in a
breath as I clutched the cut. Usually, I relied on the semi-regular
cuts and stabbing burns to snap me to a keen sense of reality, but
now the pain inside me did the job well enough.
Mottle
jumped off the couch and trotted to the window. She pawed at the
glass and meowed.
I
sighed. At least Mots remembered me. Her gray fur pressed up against
the window as if begging me to pat her. She butted her head, rattling
the glass, and I suddenly couldn’t bear her leaving me alone.
She
was one member of my family I could still have.
“I’m
coming to get you,” I whispered.
As
if she understood me, she leaped off the sill and padded out of the
living room.
I
moved with purpose to the front of the house, my feet lightly
treading the leaf-covered path. I searched the potted-plants for a
spare key. Surely there’d be one here somewhere. . . .
First
pot. Second.
Dammit!
Where
could they have hidden it? Or had they moved it after Dad worked the
Guardian homicide cases a few months ago? Flashes of torn Guardian
bodies flickered in my mind, eliciting waves of goose bumps over my
skin.
For
a small city, Foxtin’s high death rate . . . I shuddered.
Demons—Keres and Arae—slaughtered us Guardians as if they drew
hot knives through butter. I saw it.
I
also saw them turn my friend Marcus and ex-boyfriend Jason
part-demon.
Saw
them kill Maddy, my best friend. . . .
~*~*~
About
the Author:
A
born and raised New Zealander, Anyta Sunday has been exploring the
literary world since she started reading Roald Dahl as a kid.
Inspired, stories have been piling up in her head ever since. Fast
forward to her mid-twenties and jump a few countries (Germany,
America, and back again), and she started putting pen to paper. When
she’s not writing or chasing her kid around, she’s reading,
hiking, watching a Joss Whedon series, attempting pilates, or curling
up with her two cats. Updates on her projects can be found at
anytasunday.com.
Website:
www.anytasunday.com
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/anytasundayFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/anytasunday
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5155341.Anyta_Sunday
Tour giveaway
5 ebook sets of Veined & Lethed
1 $15 dollar Amazon gift card
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