Rising Phoenix

By Alice Floyd

"And when did you first know?" 

His eyes glittered darkly, darker then the deepest pit of the hell I was currently in. 

"When did you first know that your life would begin and end with her?"

How far would you go for a second chance at love? If the choices you made would cost you your soul, would you still make them? 

Lucian Caine spends every day at his best friend's side and every night in her arms. His life is pure bliss until tragedy strikes, flipping his world upseide down. 

Late one night, an encounter with the darkest of strangers leads him to an impossible decision. He can have his happy life again, but he must agree to the stranger's conditions. 

Now Lucian must decide just how far he is  willing to go to have his life back. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alice Floyd
• Release date: Dec 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781386246268

Alice Floyd

Alice Floyd has always loved books and the many worlds contained within them. Ever since childhood, she has dreamed of writing stories that could transport readers to another time or place.  With encouragement from her loving husband and support from their crazy kids, she is finally chasing her writing dreams.  One day, she hopes to live in a house near the sea where she will plant an obscene number of rose bushes and further indulge in her obsession with heritage breed hens.  You can follow along with her on instagram at authoralicefloyd, on facebook at author alice floyd, on goodreads at alice floyd and on pintrest at authorafloyd

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

And when did you first know?

His eyes glittered darkly, darker than the deepest pit of the hell I was currently in.

When did you know that your life would begin and end with her?

I struggled to think past the alcohol I was using to burn away my memories, pain searing in my brain. The tawny scotch swirled around in my glass, as I clinked the slowly melting ice cubes against the sides. My hand was cramped from how tightly I squeezed the glass. I closed my eyes against the image of the terrible figure sitting next to me. Clearing my throat, I opened my eyes and looked deep into the glass, as if it might hold the answers he was seeking, and began to speak:

"I leaned, unobserved, against the doorway, watching her dance around my kitchen. Frank Sinatra blasting from the speakers, cornsilk hair flying around her pale face. She had improvised a spatula for a microphone, and her bare feet slid across the polished hardwood floors. Her glorious body was naked, save for her flowered apron.

She turned and her bright blue eyes locked with my hazel ones. She graced me with her smile, genuine, sudden and as warm as the Florida sunshine streaming through the room. She was nothing short of adorable and in that moment, I knew I loved her as I had never loved another. Never would I love anything more."

I could see that memory so clear, so sharp that I had to stop and clear my throat again before I could continue on.

"She had come into my life suddenly and unexpectedly three weeks before. I own a small gallery here in this tourist town. I sell art and furniture, mainly constructed with driftwood, bleached grey and smooth by the sun and the sea. Really rather spectacular pieces, I must say.

One day, I just happened to be in the gallery, dropping off more work. The bells hanging over the door caroled and in she strode.  She caught my eye immediately, as beautiful women always did. At that time, I had a well deserved reputation in my town of being something of a rake.

From my vantage point, I watched her wander around the space while I appreciated her many assets. She was willowy and pale. She had the lightest blonde hair, like that of a child, porcelain skin that made her roses lips appear even more vivid than they would have on a woman with more color to her skin. Her eyes were a striking blue in all that alabaster. She called to mind Hitchcock’s icy blonde heroines, Nordic goddesses, angels in heaven.

I may have first noticed her for her outstanding body and face, but I soon found myself enthralled with watching her movements. She would adjust, ever so slightly, merchandise on the shelves. She angled a table a fraction to the left, shifted a lamp a touch to the right, and suddenly the furniture and art went from very nice to wow. Clearly, she had an eye for design and now I had an eye for her. I pushed off the glass counter where I had been lounging during my observations and made my way over to her side.

She was holding a favorite piece of mine, a small cypress knee that I had found in a swamp just south of my home. The old wood was polished to a smooth silk by years of water rising and falling against it. Sunshine had bleached the outer wood to a pale brown. The knee fit perfectly into her palm and she clutched it as if it gave her pleasure to hold the solid weight.

Lovely, isn't it? I asked.

She looked up at me and I instantly fell victim to her charms. Up close, she was as beautiful as I had thought. More so, even. Her slightly crooked smile and the faint beginnings of laugh lines kept her beauty from being cold and remote and instead rendered her warm and full of life. She tipped her head, pale hair falling across her shoulder and nodded.

What is it? she asked.

I’ve never seen any wood like this. Her accent made me wonder where she hailed from.

Cypress. You've never noticed the knees in the swamps?

Not from here. she said with a smile.

I had guessed with that crisp accent; it’s not exactly a southern drawl, is it? I smiled, sardonically.

Are you here on vacation?

Her smooth forehead furrowed ever so slightly.

Vacation, extended stay...I haven't decided yet.

She waved one slender hand towards the art displayed.

I’m looking for work inspirations.

What work is that?

I’m an artist, of very mediocre fame, she laughed.

I paint, mostly small pieces and note cards. I’ve been lucky enough to develop a following over the past few years that allows me to now live without supplementing my income by waiting tables.

Nothing wrong with waiting tables. That’s how I funded college. I casually said.

No, not at all. she agreed.

I did the same myself, and while I learned an awful lot, especially about people, I am glad that I no longer have to do so in order to pay the bills

I grinned, Yes, me too. This is much more enjoyable.

I made a sweeping gesture to the store. If I were being honest, I’d admit that I wanted to show off for her.

Oh! I didn't realize this was yours. You have very lovely pieces, she nodded appreciatively.

Thank you. I really enjoy it. Last year, I was finally able to step away from running the store and focus more on finding the wood and letting it tell me what it should become.

I stopped shortly, realizing the statement sounded a little strange

She placed a cool hand on my forearm, obviously picking up on my discomfort.  Smiling, she said, I understand what you mean by that. It’s an artist thing.

She laughed, not at me, but with me."

I stole a glance at my companion.

Kindred spirits, we were, from the beginning, I said before continuing.

"I gestured to the cypress piece she still held, gently rocking it from hand to hand.

I’d be happy to show you where they grow. Give you a lesson in Florida ecology, show you more of my wood, I said with a lecherous smile. I wiggled my brows at her, letting her know I was teasing...more or less.

She laughed again, a real laugh, not the polite sort that most people exchange before they really know each other. That sound sent pure joy through me. I wanted to hear more, to make her smile, to be the reason for her laugh.

I don’t even know your name, she said, still grinning.

I held my hand out, and she placed hers in mine. I looked down at the contrast. Her long hand, the fingers thin and tapering to smooth pink nails was a pale contrast to my golden skin, my hands, the fingers nicked and scarred from years of wood working.

Lucian Caine, I said lifted her hand to kiss the back of it.

Pleased to meet you.

She slightly lifted both brows.

How gentlemanly, Lucian Caine. I’m Jillian.

Jillian, I am many things, but gentlemanly is not one of them. I replied with perfect honesty. She arched a knowing brow while I kept her cool hand pressed to my lips.

And that was our beginning."

CHAPTER TWO

Go on, he commanded. I can see that you were smitten. Pausing a moment, he steepled his powerful hands under his chin.

Having seen Jillian and knowing of her as I do, I can certainly understand why. He nodded slowly to me.

What came next? he asked.

I didn't want to give this creature any more details of our life together, but I could not stop here. He had promised the keys to what I needed and the price of those keys was my story, our story. So I went on:

We progressed rapidly from friends to dating to living together to married. It was all...very easy. Very fluid. It had the feel of slipping into a favorite pair of well worn jeans. No effort needed.

I continued where I had left off.

We left my gallery together and stepped out into the oppressive Florida heat.

How do you live like this? I feel like I’m always melting!

She fanned her self with her hand, as if that motion would bring any relief here.

Its not the heat, its the humidity, I laughed.

It’s something, she conceded, laughing again while reaching up to tousle my dark waves.

We were immediately like that, familiar with one another. Not as if we’d just met, but as if we were meeting again, after a long separation.

From that afternoon on, we were rarely apart. We spent the next several days relearning, it seemed, all the nuances of one another. All those quirks that make people who they are seemed like memories we had already made. Our words never ended, the exchange of thoughts easy and pure.

The sex was wild and intense, unlike any other sexual encounter that I had ever had, and those experiences had been many and varied. When we slept, it was in a tangle of limbs. When we walked it was hip to hip, hand in hand. We quickly merged our entire lives, our bills, our households, our work."

I stopped my words and looked at my strange companion. His eyes burned with a faintly red glow, or so it seemed to me in my drunken haze. I hoped that