GRAVE
ATTRACTION
Grave
Series
Book
Four
Lori
Sjoberg
Genre:
Paranormal Romance
Publisher:
Lyrical Press
Date
of Publication: January 5, 2016
ISBN:
9781601832719
ASIN:
B00VZZM4YE
Number
of pages: approx. 247
Word
Count: approx. 90,000
Cover
Artist: Lyrical Press
Book
Description:
He’s
a reaper who works by the book. But a sexy shifter will have him
changing the course of fate just to be with her—if a killer doesn’t
get to her first…
After
four years as a reaper, helping souls cross into the afterlife is a
job Adam Javorski has finally gotten used to. But when he arrives at
the site of a serial killer’s latest victim, finding a living—not
to mention gorgeous—hostage is the last thing he expects. The young
woman captivates him in a way no one ever has—so much so, he breaks
rule number one by helping her escape…
Marlena
Walther doesn’t remember the man who rescued her. But when she sees
Adam again, she recognizes him instantly as her soul mate. While the
two work together to track down a killer determined to finish what he
started, their undeniable attraction draws them even closer. Now Adam
is the only one who can protect Marlena from a vengeful murderer—if
he’s willing to sacrifice everything for her.
Excerpt
1:
It was a wonder none
of the neighbors had noticed that something wasn’t right with the
house. Storm shutters covered every single window, with locks keeping
them bolted in place. It might be considered normal during hurricane
season, but year-round? Definitely weird. The pulse of pending
mortality emanated from the building, weak but growing stronger by
the minute. Soon, death would claim another victim, leaving Adam to
clean up the mess.
As a reaper, that
was his calling. Day in and day out, he claimed the souls of the
recently departed and guided them to the next stage in their journey.
Often, that meant a better place. Other times … not so much.
He’d been on the
job for almost four years, after losing his own humanity in the south
side of Chicago on a warm October night. Back then he’d been a cop,
and a damn good one. But that hadn’t stopped him from royally
fucking up and damning his soul in the process.
Shaking his head, he
forced the painful memories from his thoughts and focused on the
house across the street. Inside, the call of death intensified,
gathering steam until it buzzed through his blood like a chain saw.
He gritted his teeth when it reached a crescendo, his hands clenched
against the steering wheel. He hated this part—not doing anything
when you knew someone was about to die. It went against all of his
instincts. But Fate had strict rules concerning interference, and he
knew better than to challenge her authority.
Less than five
minutes later the garage door opened and a silver four-door sedan
backed down the driveway. Seven little stick figure decals were lined
up on the back window, and Adam couldn’t help but wonder if they
signified actual family members or the number of people he’d
murdered. As for the killer himself, he seemed deceptively average:
white male, average height, average build, with short graying hair
and brown eyes. No visible scars, tattoos, piercings, or other
distinguishing features. His mediocrity served as camouflage to
conceal a predator lurking in plain sight.
As soon as the car
drove out of the subdivision, Adam popped the lock to his door. “Call
me if he comes back early,” he told Martin as he stepped out of the
truck. From past experience and Dmitri’s notes, he knew the guy
would only be gone for about ten minutes. Just long enough for the
sick fuck to buy a half gallon of ice cream from the nearby grocery
store.
Under cover of
darkness, Adam crossed the street and approached the wood-frame
house. He ignored the sign that warned of an alarm, since it merely
served as a deterrent. No serial killer worth his salt would run the
risk of the alarm sounding off and triggering a visit by local law
enforcement. Retrieving the set of picks from his back pocket, he
worked on the locks on the front door. The bottom one opened with
little effort, but the dead bolt gave him a minute of trouble before
the tumblers clicked into place. He took a deep breath, mentally
bracing himself for the horrors that waited inside. The stench of
fresh death and lingering decay assaulted his nostrils the instant he
crept into the foyer. As a cop, he’d never gotten used to the
smell, and he doubted he ever would as a reaper. With the lights out,
he couldn’t see a damn thing, but he waited to flip the switch
until after the door clicked shut.
The small foyer led
into a large living room with a brick fireplace. There wasn’t a
single piece of furniture in sight, and the vaulted ceilings and
shuttered windows gave the place a cavernous feel. Blue plastic tarps
covered the hardwood floor, probably to protect it from stains. Or
perhaps they were there to make it easier for the killer to remove
the body.
The victim was a
male this time, barely out of his teens. The poor kid had been
chained by his wrists to the wall a few feet away from the fireplace.
He was clad in only a pair of ratty black jeans, with a silver collar
fastened around his neck. The blade of a dagger was buried in a chest
so mutilated it was almost unrecognizable. His pale green eyes stared
into oblivion, his mouth opened in a silent scream. The soul had
already broken free from the corpse, hovering close but not quite
touching. Confused and despondent, he retained his human form,
unaware that he no longer needed to conform to his prior physical
constraints.
Pushing back against
a rush of anger, Adam stepped closer to the body. The cop in him
demanded immediate justice, but that was no longer part of his job
description. He narrowed his focus, reaching out with his mind until
he locked onto the kid’s essence. He sensed no taint of evil on the
soul as he slowly drew it toward him. To calm the spirit he sent out
wordless reassurances, promising safety, closure, and the end to
physical pain.
Pacified, the soul
offered no resistance, merging with Adam’s body in a wash of
benevolent warmth. The kid’s essence carried a unique quality that
Adam couldn’t quite define. Demon, mage? Honestly, he couldn’t
say for sure. His experience with non-humans was limited. As the
kid’s spirit distilled to its purest form, it became aware of the
death of its body, and confusion gave way to panic.
“You’ve got
to get out of here before he gets back! Please! Go, and warn the
others. If he finds them, he’ll kill them all—oh wait! You need
to free the girl first. She doesn’t deserve what he plans to do to
her. Please say yes, I’ll do anything you want, please, please,
please …”
Adam squeezed his
eyes shut while he contained the soul, blocking out the unwanted
flood of emotions for the sake of his own sanity. During his time on
the force, he’d grown desensitized to crime scenes, but all that
training flew right out the window when the dead insisted on talking.
For him, it was one of the toughest parts about being a reaper, so
much that it came close to breaking him during his first year on the
job.
Finished, he turned
away from the body, eager for a breath of fresh air. And a beer. He
was halfway to the front door when a female’s voice shouted out
from the rear of the house.
About
the Author:
Lori
Sjoberg is the award winning author of the GRAVE SERIES. She lives in
Florida with her husband and four-legged fur baby.
Growing
up the youngest of three girls, Lori never had control of the remote.
(Not that she's bitter about that. Really. Okay, maybe a little, but
it's not like she's scarred for life or anything.) That meant a
steady diet of science fiction and fantasy. Star Trek, Star Wars,
Twilight Zone, Outer Limits - you name it, she watched it. It fed her
imagination, and that came in handy when the hormones kicked in and
she needed a creative excuse for being out past curfew.
After
completing her first novel, she joined the Romance Writers of America
and Central Florida Romance Writers. Now she exercises the analytical
half of her brain at her day job, and the creative half writing
sensual paranormal romance. Grim reapers are her specialty, but she
loves to write about all creatures of the night.
