Meghan's graduation gift is one that any eighteen-year-old would
dream of: traveling abroad to England. Her journey turns into more adventure
than expected when Meghan meets the mysterious Kiernan and accepts his
invitation to a secret club, hidden beneath the streets of London.
The eclectic dress of the club-goers is not the only unusual thing
she discovers in the Underground. Kiernan's father has developed a warped set
of rituals, and he targets Meghan as his next victim. Instead of the fun date
she imagined, Meghan finds herself imprisoned and in a fight for her very
survival.
Wings of Shadow is the first book in The Underground Trilogy. The final book in my trilogy will be released at the end of the year. My preference would be for the same translator to work on all three books for consistency.
Wings of Shadow has consistently received positive reviews and has been professionally edited.
The pain was dull as she struggled to understand what was happening. She couldn’t form coherent thoughts, and her body felt frozen in place. After several terrifying seconds, so long they felt like hours, her ability to move finally returned. Meghan squirmed and twisted, trying to free herself, but to no avail. Kiernan’s strong arms gripped her, imprisoning her on his lap, as his mouth moved against her neck.
For Meghan, time stopped until he lifted his head. Fear melted into relief. He wasn’t going to kill her, at least not at that moment. She scrambled out of his lap, backing toward the fire. A drop of blood clung to his upper lip.
“Why?” she whispered.
Kiernan froze at the groan of the sliding deadlock. He answered with only a slight shake of the head.
“Why, indeed?” Lord Killian marched into the room. “I am very curious as to why you have stopped drinking, my son. My directions were clear: to drain her.”
A shiver spread through her body at his icy tone.
Kiernan’s response was equally cold. “One doesn’t guzzle a fine vintage of wine; one savors it. By drinking a cup per day, the bottle still empties, but the enjoyment of the drink lasts.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. Was he actually comparing her to a wine, a commodity to be used and later disposed of? Father and son glared at each other, neither breaking the long silence. Meghan blinked back more tears. She crept backward until she felt the cold stone of the wall upon her back.
“Just see that the bottle is emptied, son. The problem with fine wine is that some become so attached to a particular vintage, they cannot bear to consume it.”
Lord Killian turned toward Meghan. “Always charming to see you, my dear.” He strode from the room. She barely held in the shudder until he disappeared, slamming the door behind him.
| Language | Status |
|---|---|
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Italian
|
Translation in progress.
Translated by Luana Andronico
|
|
Spanish
|
Already translated.
Translated by Lucía Lagos
|
