Shadow's Edge (Shadow Falls Series Book 1) Read online

  Shadow’s Edge

  Lizzy Prince

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Don’t forget…

  Also by Lizzy Prince

  Copyright ©2020 by Lizzy Prince. All rights reserved

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected].

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by http://www.StunningBookCovers.com

  http://www.lizzyprince.com

  Created with Vellum

  For my Dad. I love you, but you are not allowed to read this book!

  Chapter 1

  Hazel

  I regret not putting on a coat. It’s freezing outside, and I’m in my favorite pair of pajama pants—the ones with the bats on them—and a t-shirt that’s too boobie for me to wear in public. Normally it’s relegated to sleeping only, but right now I’m stupidly wearing it outside. Crossing the street from my newly rented house, I jog over to the cemetery that I can see from my front window. I got an amazing deal on rent because people—well, most people—don’t want to stare at a graveyard while they relax on their porch swing and sip their morning coffee.

  I’m not most people though. Which is why I’m walking over to the cemetery at midnight on a Sunday night. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been able to see ghosts. I assume it’s a skill I was born with, because I can’t recall a time when I haven’t seen spirits. I’m like a magnet that attracts them to me without even trying.

  Today is my first day in the city of Shadow Falls. And just like every other time I’ve moved somewhere new, I’m going to announce myself to the dead. It’s my way of broadcasting my arrival to the local ghosts. Years ago, I read a book about the occult and communing with ghosts that suggested it was a good way to set up boundaries. Since then, I’ve lived in too many places to count and have always introduced myself to the dead. Not to mention that if I don’t set up ground rules from the get-go, I end up getting bombarded with ghosts who won’t stop pestering me. Having a ghost pop in the shower when you’re washing downtown isn’t my idea of a healthy boundary.

  Ghosts leave me alone for the most part, only bothering me when there’s something particularly important they need help with. Even then, there’s not much I can do. Mostly, I just listen and sometimes reach out to their loved ones with a piece of advice or to point them in the direction of a lost piece of jewelry. Stuff like that. But rules must be established from day one, and that requires making a trip to the oldest cemetery in town at the midnight hour. Which is why I’m in my pajamas. Who wants to wait around until midnight, all dressed up, to go visit the dead? Not me. As soon as this introduction is done, I’m crashing.

  My day was spent moving my meager belongings into my house and putting everything in its proper place. Tomorrow will be dedicated to setting up my new store, and I want to get as much sleep as possible so that I’m not dragging all day. Plus, I'm a grumpy bitch when I don’t get enough sleep.

  I rub my arms, trying to work up a little heat as I cross the road. Thankfully I had the forethought to put on a stocking cap and a pair of mittens before I left the house because it’s freezing out. The wimpy part of me is tempted to dash back across the street to grab a coat. Ah, fuck it. I just need to get this over with, and then I can crawl into bed and go to sleep.

  I carefully make my way through the cemetery until I reach a spot that seems close to the center point. There’s an almost full moon in the sky providing enough light that I can avoid tripping over headstones, but everything still looks a little fuzzy. Like the diffused light is playing tricks on my eyes. Pulling a tea candle and lighter out of my pocket, I flip back part of my mittens to free my fingers and light the wick. Setting it on top of the closest grave, I close my eyes and murmur a greeting to the seemingly empty graveyard.

  “Hello, ghosts of Shadow Falls. I’m Hazel, and I’m newly arrived in your town. Hopefully I’ll be sticking around for a while. I’m happy to help with any unfinished business. I just ask that you don’t come in the middle of the night, or when I’m in the shower. It’s seriously not cute, and I will banish you from my house and from getting any future help.”

  I open my eyes and look around me. The cemetery is fenced in with huge oak and maple trees that line the perimeter. There are a few more trees here and there throughout the rest of the lot, except where I’m standing which has a clear view of the night sky. I feel a little exposed, even though it’s the middle of the night and nearly impossible to see more than twenty feet in any direction.

  A little tingle of unease starts to creep up my back when nothing happens in response to my introduction. That is definitely not normal. Well, not normal when compared to my usual ghost introductions. In the past, whenever I’ve come to say hello, spirits always pop out of all sorts of spots. Some wave, others ignore me, but still, they always have the desire to be seen. Most ghosts want someone to acknowledge them because they haven’t been seen in years. Sometimes centuries. It’s rare that a ghost hangs out on this plane without moving on for that long, but it does happen, on occasion.

  Except this time, there’s just … nothing. No spirits, no ghosts, no suspicious or curious spectral gazes staring at me. There’s only an unnerving emptiness. I’ve never had this happen before. Something strange is going on.

  The long black strands of my hair lift in the wind and flit across my face. Twisting it around my fist, I gather all the loose strands and toss the whole mess over my shoulder. At least my stocking cap is keeping some of it out of my face. Goosebumps break out over my skin, and all my senses start to work in overdrive. I stand as still as possible, holding my breath and straining my ears to see if I can hear anything that might set off warning bells. The cold is more painful, as though my skin wasn’t noticing it before, and now all the sensitivity in my body has turned on and is jacked all the way up.

  My eyes scan the cemetery, but I don’t know what I’m looking for, besides all the ghosts that aren’t here. Flipping the tops of my gloves back over my fingers, I still as the trickling sense that someone is watching me fills me with a nervous dread. Cemeteries don’t normally scare me, but there’s a pit in my stomach, and I feel like prey. Exposed and inviting someone to attack me as I stand frozen in the dark.

  There’s a faint crunch of a leaf behind me, and I spin around, my heart beating rapidly in my chest as my breath huffs out in little pants. I turn so quickly that I smack right into something that feels like a wall. Stumbling as I r
ecoil, I gasp at the pain in my face. As if I need to more fully embarrass myself, my arms pinwheel around as I look for something to grab hold of. That something turns out to be the wall, which isn’t actually a wall at all, but a very large man.

  My hands tangle in his shirt, but instead of keeping me upright, I end up falling back and pulling him on top of me in the process. With some crazy reflex that’s too insane to believe, the man manages to twist so that he lands on the ground, absorbing the impact as I fall on top of him with a very undignified sound. I don’t move for a few moments while I try to sort out what has just happened. But I slowly become aware of the fact that there is a very warm, very male, body beneath me. A man who currently has one hand resting on the middle of my back and another planted very firmly on my ass. That’s when I also realize that I’m straddling his leg, with my thigh pressed tightly to what feels like something very hard and very impressive in his pocket. Something that, if I’m feeling things correctly, is getting happier by the second.

  I’m no prude, but things might be progressing a little too quickly, even for me. Still, I can’t seem to make myself move off him. Instead, I’m assaulted with the heady smell of spices and when I try to untangle my fingers from his shirt, I somehow manage to brush them against the warm skin of his throat. It’s as though the direct contact between his skin and mine sets off a turbulent cascade of want, and I barely realize that I’m squirming against him until he grunts in surprise.

  Before I know it, the world is spinning, and I’m looking up at him. He’s shifted our positions so that I’m on the frozen ground. The cold doesn’t even register with my body, because I’m too focused on how good he feels between my thighs. Like I’ve lost all control of my limbs, my legs slide up so that I’m straddling him, and my knees are pressing into his hips. All the while, I haven’t even looked at his face yet. I’ve been too preoccupied with his body.

  I shake my head, trying to clear the lust that’s consumed my brain function and wish I could take it back. Because looking at him has made it so much worse. He is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. His hair looks black, but it could be dark brown. It’s too hard to tell with only the weak light of the moon on him. His hair is a little long on top, and strands have fallen forward as he looks down at me with dark eyes. I can’t tell their exact color either, but they are focused and unyielding. He’s staring at me with an intensity that would be frightening if I wasn’t so turned on.

  The body pressed against mine is lithe and hard. Every inch pressed into me is solid muscle and sinewy strength, and all I want to do is rub up against it. There’s a faint hint of stubble on his strong jaw, although he looks like the kind of man who is usually clean shaven and never a hair out of place. His cheekbones are sharp, model-like in their severity. But it doesn't make him look too harsh, just too beautiful to be real. There are shadows under his eyes as if he hasn’t slept in ages, and I have the absurd desire to pull his head down and cradle him against my chest. To give him a safe place to lay his head and rest. There’s a war waging inside my body, and I’m not sure if I want to comfort him or bone him.

  An ache begins to bloom deep inside me, and every nerve starts firing with the need to move against him. I’ve forgotten that I have arms, and they’ve been laying limply on the ground, but that need is ruling my body, and I remember how to use them. They snake up his side, and I try to grip the muscles there, but I can’t because I’m wearing my stupid mittens. With a little growl, I decide the rest of me will have to do instead. Arching my back, my breasts brush against his chest, and his head drops as he huffs out a breath before he gently pushes down on my shoulder, pinning me to the ground.

  A deep wince cuts through the chilly night air, sounding a little painful. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?”

  Chapter 2

  Alarik

  My head is spinning as I try to figure out what the hell just happened. There is an incredibly beautiful woman underneath me, straining to touch me, and it’s taking everything I’ve got not to lean down nip at her full lips. I came out to the cemetery to see if I could find one soul. One lousy evil spirit that needed to be sent to Hell. For some reason, they’ve all but disappeared from Shadow Falls, and I have no idea why. But it’s starting to become a problem.

  When I arrived at the cemetery, the flash of a candle being lit caught my attention. It isn’t completely improbable that someone could be visiting a loved one at night, but it’s highly unlikely. Most people don’t frequent graveyards at night. And as I approached the spot of light, I heard a woman’s voice speaking but couldn’t make out the words, just a gentle murmur in her steady, calm voice. The sound was so entrancing that I didn’t bother watching my step. The crunch of fallen leaves beneath my feet had her spinning so quickly that she slammed into me, and I barely had time to grab her before we were both falling. I managed to spin her so that I didn’t land on top of her and crush her. Because I would have. She’s willowy and lithe, her body sleek and toned. At least, what I saw of her before she barreled into me.

  Now I’m pinning her down, nestled between thighs that are all too welcoming, and about to lose my mind. Because I’m considering ripping open my pants, pulling down her … ah … pants with bats all over them, and thrusting inside her. As with anyone else I meet, I can instantly sense her soul, and it is not normal. She’s human, but not a typical human. There’s something different about her, and the taste of her soul is making my head spin and my monster pace and slaver inside me. The merest brush against her soul and it’s like I just mainlined the most potent drug in existence. I want to bury my face in the crook of her neck and scrape my teeth against her skin. To dip my head and drag my tongue up the arch of her neck. Instead, I push on her shoulder, attempting to put a little distance between our bodies so I can try to figure out who the hell she is.

  “Who are you?” My voice is rough with desire, sounding like it’s full of gravel. Despite the fact that I haven’t fed in weeks and I’m exhausted, a surge of energy sings through me. There is something about the woman beneath me that is making me lose my mind.

  Bright blue eyes stare up at me, glassy at first, but then they slowly fill with confusion, and I see the barest hint of embarrassment before it’s gone. I’m surprised by the relief that fills me, because I don’t want her to be embarrassed around me. Which is absurd because I have no idea who this woman is. My words seem to jar something loose in her because I feel her body tense beneath mine. Her throat bobs as she swallows as if she’s just now realizing there is a large man on top of her.

  “Please get off me.” The words are spoken quietly, but there is no gentleness to them. It is a command if I’ve ever heard one. I can’t stop the smile as I look down at her.

  “That doesn't seem like what you wanted a few seconds ago.”

  Her hands come up to my chest, and she pushes at me to no avail. She grunts in a way that only amuses me until I’m shaking from the contained laughter.

  “Are you laughing at me?” She huffs in exasperation, halting her attempts to push me away.

  “Who are you?” I ask again, sucking in a deep breath and inadvertently brushing my chest against her breasts. I hear the hitch in her voice a second before I yelp.

  “Ow.” My voice is scolding, but I’m still laughing. She just pinched my fucking nipples.

  Giving up on our weird game of foreplay, I move off her and stand up. Holding out my hand to help her off the ground and get another look at the woman I’ve just been on top of. Her pants do have little bats on them, and she’s wearing a long-sleeved v-neck shirt that is so low cut with such a wide neckline that her breasts are all but popping out. By the time my eyes make their way back up to her face, it’s wearing a scowl as she puts her hands on her hips in feigned indignation. I rub one of my abused nipples, pretending it’s worse than it really is, and I see her own eyes dip to roam over my body. She’s definitely not shy or bashful.

  “Let’s try this again. Who are you? And what are yo
u doing here in the middle of the night?”

  “I could ask the same of you?” She tugs her hat down a little further on her head, her black hair a shining sheet pouring out the back, almost to her waist. She’s heart-stoppingly beautiful.

  “Alarik Kingston. Your turn.” I might give in first, but I need to know who she is.

  A slight frown turns down the edges of her mouth, as though she can’t believe I answered, but then she replies, “Hazel. Hazel Miller. I just moved to town.”

  “And decided to go for a midnight stroll through the cemetery?” I ask with a brow quirked.

  “Seems like it’s a common occurrence in Shadow Falls.” She shrugs as she quips back, unwilling to give me any more than that.

  She’s right to stay aloof. There is only darkness to be found with me. For a moment, I’ve forgotten what life is like for someone like me. For a moment, I found warmth and an intoxicating comfort in her touch. There was excitement and temptation in her banter and the quirk of her lip. But that was an illusion. Wishful thinking on my part. She will be much better off forgetting I exist.

  “You’re right. And I should get going. Goodnight, Ms. Miller.” I nod a goodbye and turn to head back in the direction I came from.

  I sense her surprise even though I’m not looking at her. She probably thought I’d press my advantage and get her on her back again. But nothing good can come of that. Still, it’s harder than it should be to walk away from this woman I’ve just met. I find that I have to resist the urge to turn back and give her one more look. I almost give in when I hear her mumble, “See you around,” with a petulant tone to her voice. But I resist. If I do turn, there’s a good chance I’ll grab her again. And that’s a road I shouldn’t go down.