The Dark Dreamer is free this week! Pick up your copy from Amazon and then enter the giveaway I posted below. Winners will receive a $50 Amazon gift card and signed copies of all my Second Sight series of books. The Dark Dreamer is the first in a two-part series with the conclusion coming as soon as humanly possible.
Summary:
For as long as she can remember, Rebekah Clayton’s life has been dictated by her dreams. As a dream interpreter, she has become privy to her clients’ deepest and darkest secrets. Affairs, financial ruin, even murder—nothing shocks her anymore. But Grant Raskin’s dreams are unlike any she has heard before.
If Rebekah’s interpretation is right, Grant has foreseen the end of the world. A plague is coming and everyone Rebekah cares about will succumb to the illness. And Grant can trace the origin of the disease back to two men: Dr. Mark Holman and his son Drew.
Grant enlists Rebekah to track down the Holmans and determine their connection to the viral outbreak. But uncovering Drew Holman’s secrets will lead her down a dangerous path—unearthing a deadly conspiracy she never could have predicted.
https://www.amazon.com/Dark-Dreamer-Heather-Topham-Wood-ebook/dp/B00W1R6GYO
Excerpt:
I was in the
middle of a cyclone, in the dead center of the eye of the deadliest storm I'd
ever witnessed. The world was a blur as the wind picked up pieces of the earth
and flung them in the air around me.
I felt
claustrophobic as the tunnel of wind closed in around me, tightening the eye
and whipping chunks of earth ever-closer to my face. I couldn’t see out and I
imagined no one could see in. The storm trapped me and I doubted it would ever
let me go.
“Ezekiel.”
The name was a whisper—a soft breath into my ear, but loud enough to make out
clearly despite the raging storm.
My body
swung to the sound and I stood before a powerfully built man. I took him in in
one full look—dark eyes, dark hair and dark stubble surrounding his full lips.
He towered over me, hunching down to reach my ears and whisper his secrets. He
was the younger man from Grant’s illustration brought to life.
“Is that
your name?” The storm faded in importance. The earth trembled below our feet,
but my full focus stayed on the man next to me.
He laughed.
“No, but Ezekiel has my secrets.”
“The prophet
from the Bible? The one who had to teach the world a lesson because of false
shepherds?”
He didn’t
answer, but instead took a step closer to me. I stared farther up at him and
found myself caught in his intense gaze. His eyes were full of too many
emotions I recognized from my own life: drowning pain coupled with a
desperation to be understood.
Would the
root of his evil be borne from his need for understanding? Did I empathize with
a man who possibly viewed annihilation as a freedom from unbearable pain?
His
fingertips grazed over my lips in a leisurely way. Exploring the dip, circling
over the creases. He leaned down and I found myself trapped in place. I
couldn’t look away. I couldn’t move. I only could wait for him to kiss me.
Instead, he
pressed his forehead against mine and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. I let go
of the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. He inhaled shakily, taking
in the breath I released.
The familiar
way he held me wasn’t alarming. I felt like I belonged there, as if he and I
was one and the same. I didn’t feel fear or revulsion, only the strangest
sensation of two magnets being pulled together by forces unseen.
I’d been so
enthralled in the moment, captivated by his nearness, I didn’t notice the way
his shirt had begun to change color. The burgundy color deepened and the fabric
clung to his chest. My hands reached out and touched the spot over his heart.
Pulling back, my fingers were dripping with fresh blood.
He looked
down at his chest and frowned as if the stream of blood were merely an
inconvenience. “It’s happening,” he murmured. Without warning, he began to claw
at his chest. Ripping through the blood-drenched cotton, digging his nails into
the flesh.
I scrambled
away from him—screaming in horror as he ripped himself open. He didn’t flinch
as his flesh fell in clumps to the dirt floor in front of him. He just kept at
the self-mutilation—tossing aside muscle and tendons as if he were a corpse who
felt nothing.
His hand
disappeared inside his chest cavity and I wrenched my head away. I dry-heaved
and fell onto my hands and knees. The storm intensified once again as if its
destruction were somehow equal to the obliteration I just witnessed. I wished
for the moment to end, for the storm to finally come and tear me to pieces so I
no longer had to stay trapped with the nameless man.
A thud in
front of me forced my head up again. A silent gasp escaped my lips as I gaped
at the bloody object the man had thrown before me. I tried to process what I
was seeing, but my brain couldn’t seem to keep up with what was happening
around me. After my shock wore off, I realized beneath the blood and gore
wasn’t a heart constructed from human flesh. Beneath the surface stained with
crimson slashes was a heart made out of stone.
“You can
have this now.” His voice, deep and rich, drew my sight away from the horror
and back to his beautiful, unblemished face. Despite his chest being dissected
by his own hand, he still was standing and seemingly unaffected. “I won’t be
needing it anymore.”
“Who are
you?” I asked again, but this time with more urgency. He shook his head in
reply and I pounded the ground in frustration. I had to know him. I had to find
a man who could display so much raw emotion, but hid a heart of stone. Although
the vision receded and I could feel him slipping away, I still refused to
accept he would be a mystery I’d never solve.
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