Violet and Silver

By Crymsyn Hart

Tristan has been running from himself and from his past. With Celeste he is forced to face his dark desires. If he doesn’t, the past will come back to haunt him, and he could lose his new found love to an evil he hasn’t confronted in ages.

Will they survive his past? Or together will they discover their true destinies?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Purple Sword Publications
• Release date: Oct 31, 2009
• ISBN: 9781936165308

Crymsyn Hart

Crymsyn Hart is a bestselling author of Erotic Romance. Her worlds are filled with luscious vampires, gorgeous gods, quirky witches, and everything else that goes bump in the night. Hell, there is even a delicious cheesecake god floating around, but if I were you I wouldn’t eat his brownie cheesecake. Crymsyn worked as a psychic for many years in Boston while attending Emerson College. She graduated with a BFA in Writing, Literature, & Publishing. When she gets bored, she sneaks away to local cemeteries and coffee shops to find peace and quiet. Granted, graveyards might be a great place for the dead, but she still has to listen to their chattering. It can get annoying when all you want to do is write, but she can tell you quite a ghost story. Crymsyn shares her life with a small zoo, two playful puppies and her hubby Mark. If you come after dark, you’re more than likely to find her snuggled up with a gory horror movie, or a bloody vampire movie. Crymsyn has a collection of Living Dead Dolls and five bookshelves overflowing with books. Of course there's always room for more.

Book preview

Violet and Silver

Crymsyn Hart

Published by Smashwords for Purple Sword Publications, LLC

www.PurpleSword.com

VIOLET AND SILVER

Copyright © 2009 Crymsyn Hart. All rights reserved worldwide.

ISBN 978-1-936165-30-8

Cover Art Designed By Anastasia Rabiyah

Edited By Traci Markou

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

CHAPTER ONE

I’m coming. I’m coming! I yelled again, settling my skirt down over my hips. Can’t a girl pee anymore? I looked at myself in the mirror, making sure my makeup wasn’t smeared. I had a black witch’s hat pinned to a long white wig, covering my brown hair. Dark eye shadow caked my lids. The makeup on my teeth tasted horrible, like old dirt, but it blackened out my pearly whites to make me resemble the hag I portrayed. Okay, I was cheap. Last minute I had turned to the local drugstore, bought a ready-made costume and enough candy to feed a small zombie and fairy princess army. Halloween had snuck up on me, and then Brenda had invited me to her costume party. Thank God it was Friday night, and I had the weekend to recover and get caught up on the work I had to do. Editing manuscripts and technical crap was not my cup of tea, but it paid the rent.

Brenda was my closest friend in the office and I had only been there for a couple of months. This was my second job in three years. I had no idea what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, but at twenty-seven, it certainly was not editing boring textbooks every day. Hello, people, the past from three hundred years ago was not going to change. It was history, for God’s sake.

The doorbell rang again. I clenched my teeth and flushed. I counted to ten, telling myself the little monsters dressed as nightmares would be gone in another hour or so, and then I could get wasted. I only hoped Brenda had invited a few cute guys. I seriously needed to get laid. I wasn’t a one-night stand kinda girl, but being dry for over a year was not my way either. I shook my head at the memory of how Daniel and I had broken up. He wanted to stay in the same dead-end job, crappy apartment, making no money, way of life forever and I wanted to move on. So I moved on. He never even bothered to call and see if I wanted to get back together. Madison, my sister, was right. I was too good for him. I always hated when she was right.

I got to the door and grabbed the stainless steel bowl heaped with candy. Opening the door, I plastered a cheap smile on and looked down at the little monsters. A bumblebee in a stroller and a ninja turtle. Oh brother. The baby wasn’t going to eat the candy. I knew it, and so did the excited father who held out the trick-or-treat bag. It was a conspiracy.

Trick or Treat! the ninja turtle yelled at the top of his lungs. I saw the proud parent wince at the volume and a look of apology flash across his face. I guessed the dad wanted to cringe and walk away saying, This is not my child. I don’t know where he came from. Please take him away.

Wow! Look at you. Scary! Let me guess, you’re a serial killer.

The turtle held out his bag. Trick or Treat!

I glanced at the parent. Dad was getting impatient and wanted to get back home so he could have sex with his wife, tell her what a horde the little boy got, all the while the vision of chocolate bars and bubble gum danced in his head because his son was probably allergic to both.

I fished into the bowl and dropped in a handful of assorted goodies. The dad’s face lit up. I stood in the doorway and looked down the apartment complex driveway, noticing there were no more little brats. Breathing a sigh of relief, I closed the door and shut the light off. I would bring the leftovers in to work on Monday and let the other heathens, my co-workers, fight over it since most of them loved Halloween. I shunned it unless I had to, the way I also did being invited to a party. I wanted to be back by midnight so I wouldn’t turn into a pumpkin. For me, acknowledging the holiday was embracing the heritage I had rejected. I shivered when I thought about it. Even as I did, there was a tickle inside my stomach waiting for me to grab a hold of it. If I did, it would make me the most powerful real life witch my family had seen in generations.

Madison, my sister, was the only one who knew why I