Objective (Bloodlines #2) by K. Larsen
Acknowledgments
This book. Wow. So many important people to mention. Firstly, R.L. Griffin, Tara Sharland and Emma Adams, you all are my ROCK STARS. Seriously, the words of encouragement, the hard work put into being my Beta Bugs, the feedback - all of it helped immensely in fine-tuning this book to what it is. For dealing with me harassing you all on Voxer, email and Facebook! So, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope Objective makes you proud!
To Marisa at I’ll Be Reading book blog for pimping me so hard, creating awesome temporary tattoos and a Bloodlines Logo (and for loving Sawyer so hard!)!!
I found this book to be really challenging to write. It’s longer than the others, deeper, grittier. More twists and turns! It’s a bit darker, the emotional stakes are higher. How does one come back from a soul searing love? From the need for revenge that runs so deep it changes who you are?
To- Beg me for Beta blog, Book Boyfriend Reviews, Book Junky Girls, Blissful Book Blog, A Book Whores Obsession, Three Chicks and Their Books, Ana’s Attic, This Bish Luvs Books, Loverly’s Book Blog, SMI Book Club, Martini Times, Magic Within The Pages, Dirty Hoe’s Book Blog, Nerd Girl, A Pair of Okies, Feisty Girls Book Blog, Sinfully Sexy Book Reviews, The Book Nuts, Keepin’ It Real Book Blog, Book FRI-ends, I Love Bookie Nookie Reviews, Dirty Girls Book Club…and truly, the list goes on!
My family, wow. Such support! Isabella, even as a 3rd grader, for pushing me and telling me, ‘I can read or something quiet, so you can get more done, Mom.’ Or for her being concerned about my posture while writing- so she got me the coolest lap desk ever for Christmas. To my husband for not giving a crap that I spent the day unshowered, in jammies and in bed working at this. He brought me coffee and meals and didn’t complain or speak while doing it! To even Dexter, the dog, who is smart enough to seek me out during my writing and paw me until I realize that he needs to go outside!
I hope this instalment of the Bloodlines series brings you many emotions while reading! Sawyer’s story ‘Resistance’ is in the works and hopefully due out later in 2014! You won’t want to miss it!
If you were expecting a HEA, I’m very sorry that it may feel…less than…but I promise you that if you stick with the books, you’ll be pleased with the resolution to everyone’s stories!
“Stagnation is death. If you don’t change, you die. It’s that simple.”- Leonard Sweet
PROLOGUE
“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.” –Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I watch as she crosses the floor in her three-inch heels effortlessly carrying a tray of drinks to the VIP lounge. Her tan smooth legs appear to go on for days in the tiny shorts she has on. The tube top clings to her torso and accentuates her perfect C–cup and narrow waist, of which I remember every curve and inch. I watch her intently. She’s the same and yet so completely different. My girl would never be caught dead in that get up. My girl wouldn’t be here at all.
I suck in a deep breath to calm my nerves and sink further into the wall as I watch her. At the exposed rim of skin at her waist you can see the base of a tree trunk, I think, the branches and magnolia blossoms scattered across her back, shoulder and down her right arm. My girl would never have a tattoo, although the significance of it is touching. The changes are enough to make me wonder if it’s truly her, but like the very first time I laid eyes on her, my body reacts to her proximity. I’m sure this time I’ve found her. It’s been fourteen months, six days and twelve hours since I’ve seen her. It’s taken me thirteen months to hunt her down. Since she left me on the floor of a dingy apartment. Since she betrayed me in the worst way possible.
I watch as she swats some *’s hand away from her rear with a fake coy smile plastered on her face. My hands clench into fists at the inappropriate contact. My girl would never tolerate a stranger’s roaming hands. She deftly removes drinks from the tray, setting them down in front of their owners, smiles an emotionless smile and stalks away. She’s stunning. Her golden skin glistens in the club lighting, making me wish I could touch it. I miss her smell. I miss the feel of her skin. Her eyes though - they look dead, sad and lifeless. The brilliance that used to shine from them is gone. Her eyes were always so open, honest and refreshing. It was one of my favorite things about her, her ability to communicate with her stunning golden eyes. Her black locks are twisted up into a pile on the top of her head and the air conditioning in the club blows a few loose strands around her face seductively. Her eyes are rimmed with black ink and her thick lashes look as if they brush her cheeks even from here. I can’t tear my eyes from her, but then again I never could. If I’m honest, I never wanted to.
I’m holding myself so rigidly that I can feel myself trembling. I want to run up to her. I want to confront her. I want to hate her, but I don’t. I can’t. Right now I want answers, but I want to hold her and taste her even more. I can’t, though. If she sees me there’s no telling how she’ll react. I can’t afford to have her run again. I don’t have another year to waste tracking her down. People want answers and I’m the one they chose for the job. I was so revenge-hungry when they proposed the idea that I agreed immediately without hesitation. Seeing her here, now, I should have known better. I am not the man for this particular job. My rage and anger will never trump the attraction and pull I feel for her. As if nothing has happened, she still possesses me wholly. She moves like water through the thick crowd until she reaches the bar to refill her tray. Her movements seem so effortless and well-rehearsed that I wonder how long she’s been here.