Preservation Read online

  PRESERVATION

  RACHAEL WADE

  ALSO BY RACHAEL WADE

  Amaranth, The Resistance Trilogy, Book One

  The Gates, The Resistance Trilogy, Book Two

  The Tragedy of Knowledge, The Resistance Trilogy, Book Three (Coming Soon)

  PRAISE FOR AMARANTH

  “A beautifully written story about love, sacrifice, and friendship that has a lot of fun twists and turns.”

  -Seeing Night Reviews

  “As wonderful and enchanting as its beautiful cover…”

  -Shadow Kisses Reviews

  “…a new, exciting, and riveting tale of love and loss. The part that really stood out for me was that it is not just about fighting for your love, your soul mate, but it was about redemption of an entire clan so to speak.”

  -Alchemy of Annes Anomalies Reviews

  “...I was hooked from the first chapter. I just wanted to step into the dark, dangerous world of Amaranth.”

  -Fiction Fascination Book Reviews

  “A fantastic journey from beginning to end.”

  -Gothic Angel Book Reviews

  “…far from ‘just another vampire book.’ ”

  -Live to Read Book Reviews

  “Amaranth was in NO way a direction that my mind EVER would have gone. Talk about beautifully written, Rachael built a world that is absolutely stunning!”

  -Taking it One Book at a Time Reviews

  All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Copyright © 2012 Rachael Wade

  ISBN: 0-9840208-4-5 (paperback)

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9840208-4-3 (paperback)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012902283

  Rabbit Hole Press

  Orlando, Florida

  www.RachaelWade.com

  Cover Design: Robin Ludwig Design Inc.

  Editor: Susan Miller

  DEDICATION

  To Dave, for encouraging me to write this and to see it through, and Pat, for all you’ve taught me.

  This one’s for you.

  SPECIAL THANKS TO:

  Pat, my best friend and greatest treasure. I’m still

  standing next to our favorite valley, waiting for you to take the picture—you know the one.

  Cathy Givans, for your friendship and support, as well as your input regarding physical, sexual, and mental assault and resources.

  All of my book blogger friends for your support,

  enthusiasm, and tireless promotion. Thank you!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  From: Rachael Wade

  Subject: Sentimentality

  Date: December 1 2011 08:49

  To: The Crazy Book Chicks

  My little muses, my little darlings, the ones who help keep the flames of my passion for reading alive and scorching—thank you for keeping the Crack Book Shelf Spirit strong.

  This includes the regulars:

  Melissa: My Flo sister. Stop browsing crazy cat pics and GET BACK TO WORK. (shouty capitals for emphasis)

  Maria: Put down the crack book and give your hubbs a break from “your other husband.”

  Tess: Thank you for your hilarious status updates while reading this in its infant stages and for all of your feedback. And for loving the Brits.

  Chanda: The Steam Queen—yes, it’s steamy.

  Fathima: The Reviewer Extraordinaire. Thank you for everything.

  Laters babies,

  xoxo

  Rachael Grey–er, Wade,

  Little Blip lover, Inner Goddess Advocate, and Dr. Flynn’s Most Troubled Case

  RYAN’S RAVEN

  PROLOGUE

  1. DETENTION

  2. PUNCTUALITY

  3. CURIOSITY

  4. COMFORT ZONE

  5. INVITATION

  6. AN EDUCATION

  7. CATALYST

  8. DISCIPLINE

  9. ATLAS

  10. TIME OUT

  11. RECESS

  12. NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS

  13. FIRE DRILL

  14. TEACHER’S PET

  15. SHOW AND TELL

  16. DISOBEDIENCE

  17. DODGE BALL

  18. EXPELLED

  19. ROOM WITH A VIEW

  20. POUND OF FLESH

  EPILOGUE

  RYAN’S LITTLE MISS TARDY

  RYAN’S GEM

  RYAN’S RAVEN

  A publishing deal before I even make it to thirty. Unbelievable! Will they sign me on the spot? Make me jump through hoops? Shit, does this tie look all right? I raced down my apartment steps and onto the sidewalk, bumping into a couple walking their dog.

  “Damn, sorry.” I skated around them and started flying toward the Light Rail, messing with my tie. I can’t believe I’m late. Out of all the times in my life to be late for something, this morning was hands down the worst possible time in the history of...everything. The epitome of stupid. But Jamie looked so sexy, so innocent in her sleep, her arm around me in a vise-like grip. I couldn’t stop staring at the ring on her finger, the one I put there. She was mine. She actually agreed to marry me in six months, after she graduated, making me the luckiest son of a bitch on the face of the planet. Trying to move out from underneath her wasn’t an option. I could stare at that girl all day.

  The thought made me grin like a damn fool.

  But I realized that those five extra minutes when I allowed myself to watch her sleep, like some creepy stalker, royally fucked me over. Because now I was late for the most important meeting of my life. And in my haste to make up for those five minutes, I spilled my coffee on my shirt, on my shoes, and at my feet. “Oh, for the love of...”

  Weaving through pedestrian traffic, I moved aside and huddled next to a bank building, peeking through the glass doors to catch a glimpse of the clock on the lobby wall. Glancing at my own watch, I compared the times to make sure it was accurate. “Shit, shit, shit!” Glaring down at my coffee-stained shirt, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then tightened the lid on my empty coffee mug. Adjusting my laptop bag in my right hand, I patted my pants and suit jacket pockets with the other, searching for my phone. Phone, laptop, keys, wallet...wallet...

  I patted my pockets again. “Wallet!”

  Banking a sharp turn, I jolted in the opposite direction, back the way I came, dodging frantically around sidewalk traffic. Retracing my morning step by step, I recalled slipping it into my portfolio case, which I packed to carry the physical paper copies of my work.

  I stopped. A woman bumped into me from behind, spitting out an unintelligible curse word when she maneuvered around me.

  Moving out of the way again, I bent down and unzipped my laptop bag, nearly choking on my heart as it jumped from my chest to my throat. I didn’t pack the case into the laptop bag, either. Wallet in the case, the case at home...fuck! I could do without the portfolio case if I absolutely had to, but my wallet? Not so much. I sprang to my feet and sprinted toward the apartment. This is not happening. Mulling over the thought of possibly calling the publishing house to inform them I’d be late, I decided against the idea. Ten minutes wasn’t too horrible...mortifying and unprofessional, yes, but it could be a hell of a lot worse.

  When I reached the apartment building, I cringed at my luck. The elevator was out of order. “Oh, come on!” Taking the stairs two steps at a time, I lunged up to the fourth floor and slipped my key into the lock. Did I leave it on the coffee table? My mind was dr
awing complete blanks, and the adrenaline rushing through me made it even more difficult to think about anything other than getting in and out of the apartment as fast as possible. I thought I heard Jamie’s voice coming from the laundry room. Good, she’s up. She’ll know where I put it. Racing past the kitchen and around the hall, I eyed the counters and tables. No portfolio.

  “Hey, Jamie? Babe, do you know where my portfolio case is? I’m in serious trouble—” I heard her giggle, a low hush sound accompanying it. Rounding the corner toward the laundry room, the adrenaline that coursed through me was instantly doused with cold water, then with gasoline, set to fire with a match.

  There she was, stark naked on top of the dryer, some prick I didn’t recognize standing in between her legs, pants at his feet. No shirt. Greasy, hairy arms encasing her against his chest. And oh, God...right in the middle of...

  Bile rose to my throat and my eyes watered.

  “Uh...” he stammered, wiping sweat from his brow.

  “Oh, Ry,” Jamie’s voice slid into me, smooth and seductive, then at once, patronizing. “Now, you shouldn’t have come barging in like that, should you?” Her expression turned from amused to one full of pity—pity for me, the poor idiot who interrupted her fuck buddy session.

  I gripped the doorframe to steady my balance, a sharp kick to the gut almost bringing me to my knees. Working to focus my eyes on the floor, I blinked and concentrated on pulling my gaze from the sight in front of me.

  Then it focused on her ring, and the location of her left hand.

  “Ahhhh!” I charged toward them and Jamie let out a half-laugh, half-shriek as she slipped off of him and jumped away from the dryer and up against the wall. Barreling straight past her, I tackled the prick, pounding into his jaw with more force than I’d ever known I’d had.

  “Ryan! Oh my God, Ryan! Stop it, damn it, stop it!” Her voice pierced my ears, the anger in it only adding fuel to my rage. She was pissed at me? My fiancée, pissed at me, in my own home, for beating the shit out of her lover? Was she serious?

  The naked ape I was wrestling swung back and I took a hit, but wasn’t down for long. I threw the entire weight of my body into a hurricane-force shove, aiming for his chest, my hands gripping his shoulders and knee to his groin. He grunted and stumbled back, hitting the wall between the machines and the closet. I had him cornered. Perfect. I tossed off my suit jacket and rolled up my sleeves.

  “Who the hell do you think you are, you piece of shit? You picked the wrong girl to fuck around with, man. Do you see that ring on her finger?” I shoved him back again and he took a swing, missing.

  “Oh I see it,” he snapped, voice gruff. He spit blood on my shirt and wiped his lips, his jaw already swelling up. “She doesn’t seem to care. You’re obviously not doing it for her, pretty boy.” Oh, no. He didn’t.

  It was time to pretty up his face.

  My fist plowed into his jaw, wiping that grin right off , and then he reversed the game, charging toward me and rushing me out of the laundry room, my back smacking up against the hallway wall. Scraps, kicks, and punches passed between us, my knuckles growing bloodier by the second.

  “Jason, stop it! Ryan, let him go, damn it, I don’t love you! I don’t want to marry you!”

  Jamie’s voice stopped us both, the ape named Jason staggering backward, turning to face her. She tossed him his shirt and he began buckling up his pants.

  “You two can sort this on your own. I’m out of here, Jamie. Call me when you’ve handled this chump.” Jason puffed out his chest and adjusted his shirt, walking straight between us, heading for the door. Oh, he’s a real winner. It took everything in me not to jump him again, but I had an unfaithful slut of a fiancée to deal with.

  “How could you do this?” I let my back sag against the wall.

  “You heard me, Ryan. I don’t want to marry you.” She crossed her arms and sighed, leaning against the opposite wall. Thank God, her clothes were back on.

  “And this is how you tell me?” My voice cracked, the pain breaking through the anger, filled with disbelief that my whole world was caving in around me. My meeting with the publisher, my future career, and now this girl. This woman who I’d thought just ten minutes ago was my sun, my compass, my life. Gone in an instant.

  “I haven’t been happy, Ryan. If you’d paid an ounce of attention to me, maybe you’d have noticed that.”

  “What—attention? That’s what this is about? Attention? I thought I gave you a lot of attention just last night.”

  “The sex is great, Ryan. It’s not about that. Sex is the one thing you have going for you, that’s no secret.”

  Oh. My. God. The one thing? I let out a breath of disbelief at what I was hearing.

  She continued. “But it’s always writing this, writing that. You’re always lost in your little world of stupid, fake characters, and I just won’t take a backseat to your childish imagination anymore. Frankly, it’s a bore.”

  “I almost had a publishing deal this morning, Jamie. That’s anything but boring, are you fucking kidding me? What does lover boy do? Something more respectable? What, is he a pool boy? A mechanic? You’re throwing our whole relationship away over my career choice?”

  “Oh, aren’t you completely full of yourself. He’s a hockey player, thank you very much. A pro, might I add.” She dropped her arms to her sides and started for the kitchen. I followed.

  “Oh, yeah, so much more respectable. He hits pucks on ice with wooden sticks. Whoopty-fuckin-do!” I shook my head, watching her grab a plastic bag from the kitchen before making her way to the bedroom. Remaining in the living room, I watched her pace the bedroom. She was completely indifferent. Cold. Remorseless.

  “I’m sorry, Ryan, but it’s over. Really, you’ll be better off. More time for your imaginary friends.” She gave a wave of dismissal as she tossed a pair of clothes and a toothbrush into the bag. “I was planning on telling you tonight. Now you know. It’s done.”

  The shock and anger that emanated off of me started to evolve, shifting into sudden desperation and sadness at the realization that this woman was really leaving me. She was really ending this, and in a matter of minutes, it would no longer be Ry and Jamie, Jamie and Ry, the sweethearts from college, the ones who wanted to live in a little farmhouse in the mountains with two dogs and a cat. It would just be Ryan, the guy with a writing degree and no writing career, the apparent sex God with nothing else going for him except a little charm and some good looks.

  “Jamie...I wanted...” My voice cracked again. Traitor. “I wanted to give you everything you ever wanted, you’re my whole world. Wanted to give you everything—”

  “Yeah, well you can’t, okay? You can’t give me everything because you don’t have what I want.”

  And that did it.

  I dropped to my knees next to the couch, my body sagging into the side of the cushions, palm gripping my forehead. “How could you....how can you say this?” I pulled my gaze from the ground to meet her, and damn it, I could feel my eyes watering, the emotions about to steamroll over me and expose me at my weakest.

  She so didn’t deserve to witness that.

  “I’m sure you’ll make someone else happy.” She crossed her arms again, glancing at her watch.

  “Someone else?”

  “Trust me, you’ll survive. You get attached easily, love easily. There are plenty of pathetic women out there just begging for a Romeo like you; plenty of them willing to put up with your joke of a career. I’m not one of them.”

  “Get out.”

  “You should never have hit Jason. He’s a public figure now. He can’t have a busted jaw; there will be pictures of him. I can’t believe you—”

  “Get out! I said get out!”

  Her eyebrows rose and she adjusted the bag in her hand, rolling her eyes before turning for the door. “Pfft. Fine. I’ll be back to get my things later. Have a nice life, Ryan.”

  The door slammed behind her and I couldn’t think about life. All I co
uld think about was the end—the death of something that wasn’t real, never was in the first place. I’d been completely delusional, unable to see what was right in front of me. She never loved me, and the love I had for her would slowly drive me on the edge of insanity now. I rolled off my knees with a groan and sat on the floor, legs propped up, red knuckles stationed on my thighs.

  Silence moved in and surrounded the apartment, making the blaring vow in my mind painfully loud.

  Never again.

  PROLOGUE

  Running. Something I’m really fond of. Even now, at twenty-five, more than ten years after I discovered my passion for it. It doesn’t matter which direction I’m going. Either way, I’m headed somewhere other than where I was to begin with, and I alone can determine the direction I want to go. I’ve mastered the art of running; a regular pro beginning at age thirteen, when dad took off. Hitting the pavement when his white Chevy pulled away, I chased the car as long as I could. When it was out of sight, I didn’t stop. Just kept going, slowing to a jog before picking up speed again, heading toward the golden, California horizon like it was the last drop of water in the desert.

  I knew what was awaiting me back home. Ashtrays hurled at the walls, echoes of hysterical sobs, the fridge that wouldn’t be filled, the dog that wouldn’t be walked. The list of responsibilities that would then be mine went on and on. Thinking back, I’m not entirely sure how I knew at thirteen that my childhood, my innocence, had been taken from me in a matter of seconds...you know, being a child at the time and all. How do children even understand those things when they’re faced with them? I guess a switch is flipped; a sobering one. In that exact moment when my dad walked out the door with his trash bags full of clothes, I just knew.

  So fully aware that I’d been deemed the adult in the house and my mother the child, I lied to the hole-in-the-wall clothing boutique up the road that I was fifteen so I could get a job. So I could start putting money away for a car. The shop owner actually bought it and I forged the signature on the underage work permit form. A job meant money, and money meant the means to get a car, and a car meant freedom. It all equaled the ability to travel much longer distances than my feet could carry me during my runs.