Dead Awakenings

By Rebekah R. Ganiere

Being dead is a great way to find yourself…

Struggling to pay her bills, New York theater student Evaine Michaels sees an opportunity to make money by taking part in an unsanctioned clinical trial for a new drug. But things don't go as planned. Instead, she wakes up in a derelict hospital, chained to a bed with no memory of who she is or how she got there.

Then a band of pale-skinned, fiery-eyed men, led by the gorgeous Luca, bursts in and rescues her. Taking her to a safe-house for her kind, Evaine learns that the drug trials have made her a Deader- a reanimated Undead.

Luca is inexplicably attracted to newly rebirthed Evaine. But he has no time for the feelings she's awakening within him- or the fact that she can read not only his thoughts, but his feelings as well. He's spent the last decade exterminating the scientists experimenting on, and creating Deaders. And the last thing he needs is a female messing with not only his mission, but also his head, and his heart. Especially a volatile newborn Deader.

Evaine and Luca find themselves drawn to each other in a way neither has experienced before- until Evaine remembers not only who she is, but that she's engaged. And that her human fiancé, Tristan, is probably still looking for her.

But when a rogue faction of Deaders, called Feeders, attempts to kidnap Evaine, Luca suspects she might be the key to stopping the experiments for good. And everyone will have to band together to keep Evaine off the enemy's cutting table once and for all.

Those who love Ilona Andrews, J.R. Ward, and Sarah J. Maas will love this Dark Paranormal Romance.

Hurry and scroll up to get a Bite of Dead Awakenings Now!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fallen Angel Press
• Release date: Oct 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781633000414

Rebekah R. Ganiere

Rebekah is an Award Winning Bestselling Author. Her debut novel Dead Awakenings, hit the bestseller list the first day, in January 2014. Her Fairelle Series, released in May 2014 and has won several awards including the Golden Palm and is currently up for the Rone Award. Her trilogy The Society was released by Kensington in 2014 and her new series Shifter Rising is releasing in 2016 from Samhain Press. Rebekah is currently working on six series in the Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy, Sci-fi genres. She has three more books slated to release this year and another five for next year. Rebekah is the VP of Communications of the Romance Writers of America Los Angeles Chapter as well as the Newsletter Editor of the Fantasy, Futuristic, & Paranormal Chapter. In her spare time when she isn't writing you can find her moderating and teaching on SavvyAuthors.com or at RWA. Rebekah also cosplays with her kids and is a guest speaker and panelist at San Diego Comic Con and several other Comic Cons on the west coast as well as LTUE, Romantic Times Convention, and Authors After Dark.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Drip…drip…drip…

The sound came from far away, even and uncomplicated, growing steadily louder.

Drip…drip…drip…

She lay motionless, the sound bouncing and pooling inside her ears. Perfect cadence. The sound of liquid hitting liquid. Over and over.

Half-awake, her mind drew closer to consciousness. The idea of waking frightened her though she wasn’t sure why. But as always happened, the more she fought waking, the quicker it pounced on her and demanded she do exactly that.

Her lashes clung together, heavy and sticky like her eyelids had been sealed with melted wax.

Someone breathed beside her. His menthol aftershave and stale chip-scented breath hit her nose, gagging her.

Hot, fat fingers pried open one lid and then the other, flashing a bright light into them, blinding and searing her eyes. She rolled her eyes up into the cave of her skull. Her mind registering nothing but the light.

She tried to lift her hand, but she couldn’t. Her mind screamed for her body to obey. She breathed deep, the scent of body odor stinging her nostrils. How long had it been since she'd last bathed?

Where am I? Her heartbeat quickened.

Make sure her restraints are tight, said an urgent voice.

The squeak of hard-soled shoes walking across the floor pierced her eardrums. Scratching, like someone writing on a pad of paper, itched her mind, and an ever present clicking tapped in her skull. The once soothing, dripping sound now laughed at her, taunting her confusion. The florescent lights overhead buzzed like a doomed fly in an electric trap. All the sounds mixed inside her head threatening to drive her mad.

She pressed her eyes shut as panic alit within her. Afraid of what she would find if she opened them. She fought to keep her breathing even as she wracked her brain, struggling to remember something…anything. But her mind was like an empty attic; lots of room, but void of any old bits and pieces of her life. Where was she? How had she gotten there? What had happened to her?

How long should we let her lay there? asked a wheezy voice with a cough.

Let her adjust. It’s a terrific sign. Most wake up screaming. She’ll be hungry soon enough. Is her food prepared?

It’s waiting in the hall.

She didn’t feel hungry. Tomato soup, root beer, chocolate, popcorn, PB&J, fresh berries, burgers and fries. Nothing sounded appetizing.

We need to get her up and moving. She needs to feed so we can start testing.

We can’t rush anything this time.

What if she’s a Class A though? Wheezy hacked again. This may well be the link we have been searching for. You saw what she did. The way she came back all of a sudden.

She isn’t going anywhere.

Her mind reeled with more questions. Panic scratched its way up her neck and left her skin prickly. She lay perfectly still, unsure of what to do. Had she been in accident? She couldn't remember. What if she was in a waking coma? One where she could see and hear everything around her but not move?

She picked up on the faint sound of soft footsteps falling nearly silently on the floor far away, coming closer, trying hard not to be heard. How could she know that?

The arguing next to her faded to white noise as she concentrated on the sound of moving feet. Clearer than before, heavily booted footsteps walked on the outer floor, hands and arms moved carefully. She could almost see in her mind the way they prowled down the hall in formation.

Opening her eyes, she was immediately flooded with light. Something flew into view, obscuring her vision like a snowstorm at high speed. The pain invading her head made her eyes water. She slammed them shut again and cried out.

So she wasn't in a coma.

The lights are too bright. Shut them—

Those ever so silent footsteps entered the room. The sounds of a scuffle broke out, and the stale-chip-breathed man to her right cried out and abruptly stopped.

Another scream of pain and shuffling followed by grunts and a crunching noise. Her stomach lurched at the sound. Something creaked, like furniture being pushed around. Recoiling at the loud clatter of metal objects against the floor, she tried to cover her ears, but something on her wrists prevented her from moving. Fear took over. She pulled and struggled. Restraints. Someone had handcuffed her to the bed.

Suddenly her world went white; she screamed, light flooding her vision once more. She thrashed as panic overtook her. A strong hand pressed her forehead into the pillow.

The person holding her eyelids swore in frustration. Stop! he commanded.

He didn’t smell like stale chips; he smelled of cologne and musky sweat, intoxicating her and making her lessen her struggle against him. She breathed him into her soul, taking his essence into her memory. The man let go of her head and gently lifted her eyelid. Before she could take much in something cool pressed against her eyeball, and he released her lid. The smooth and flexible object formed to her eyeball easily. Her other eye lifted open and the process repeated. Lying still for a few moments she got allowed herself to relax enough to finally dared to open her eyes a fraction, waiting for the searing light, but it didn’t come.

Scanning the room, she took in everything around her. Cracked and broken ceiling tiles hung loosely from the rafters ready to drop on her at any moment. That methodic dripping came from a rusty sink in the corner. Dirty floral wallpaper sloughed off stained and broken walls. On the floor two men in lab coats lay face down and immobile. A man straddled one of them, scanning him with a black device. At a small, crowded table to the left of her a young-looking guy checked out a computer. His fingers raced across the keyboard like lightning. She recognized it as the tapping noise from earlier. In the shadow of the door, a hulking man talked on a cell phone.

She swallowed hard, realizing that Smell Good Guy loomed close to her. Shifting her gaze, she stared up in awe at the strangest, golden honey mixed with orange flames eyes. The pupils narrowed like a cat’s; his pale face looked like there was no blood in him at all. A strong jaw and high cheekbones structured his hard, calculating face; his Roman nose crafted as fine as the statue of David. His hair gleamed pure white. As alien as he looked, he was still the hottest guy she’d ever seen. The other men in the room had the same white hair and skin, but they weren’t nearly as appealing as the man with the golden eyes.

You in there? the man next to her asked harshly. He snapped a small contact case shut and shoved it into one of his pockets.

She didn’t answer, transfixed by his eyes. Glowing with an inner light, they probed her, searching for something. She should be afraid, but the way he looked at her told her he meant her no harm.

Hey. Anybody home? His gaze traveled over her face taking in every inch, as if drinking her in. To her amazement his pupils relaxed, becoming rounder and softer.

She blinked several times, unsure if what she saw was real.

I don’t think this one came all the way back, Aron, he said to the man on the floor.

The man who had been scanning the dead lab rat wranglers stepped up to her bed. His pale skin seemed… different in color. She couldn’t exactly tell why, but when his handsome almond shaped eyes turned on her, she realized he was Asian. He peered into her eyes, looked at her hands, her arms, and then picked the sheet up, inspecting her legs. His white hair long on top and shaved on the sides gave him a striking appearance.

He unbuckled the restraints on her ankles and when he began to pull up her hospital gown she’d had enough. Planting her foot in the middle of his chest, she kicked. Her legs were weak and a bit stiff, but her aim wasn’t. He stumbled over the body on the floor and fell to his knees.

Mr. Hotty let out a small growl and crouched as if anticipating he might be next. She lay her leg back on the bed.

Silence permeated the room for a moment except for the dripping sink. Even the young guy had stopped typing on the keyboard. She looked between the men.

I could be wrong though, said Mr. Hotty.

You think, Luca? The man she’d kicked coughed and gasped for air.

So Mr. Hotty’s name was Luca.

The shorter and slighter man got up from his knees and brushing himself off. We should have started with the fact that we’re here to help you. But I guess we’re a little too late for that.

She blinked mutely. He appeared young, maybe a few years older than she was, but he gave off an air of wisdom and age that made her trust him instinctually.

This has to be weird for you. He gestured toward her. You can hear and see and smell more than you ever have before. You’re chained to a bed and can’t even remember your own name. But we’re here to get you out. I’m Aron, by the way.

Aron smiled at her as she tried to wrap her mind around his words. Were they in some kind of cult?

Hurried footsteps sounded in the hallway. All eyes in the room shifted to the door.

Victor, Luca yelled to the man on the phone. The hulking man who looked just like Dolph Lungren from Rocky Four stopped talking.

Five of them, coming up the stairwell. Heavily armed. Victor kept his voice low. Luca locked eyes with him, and Victor gave a slight nod.

Where the hell did they come from? Aron and Luca glanced at the two bodies on the floor at the same time.

But there weren’t two bodies. One of the lab rat wranglers crawled toward the corner of the room, cell phone in hand.

Aron, get her out of here, ordered Luca.

Luca—

There’s no time. Now! Luca’s eyes had gone back to slits.

You don’t know me, Aron spoke to her again, but you have to trust me. Okay? Aron turned. Luca, wait—

She glanced over as Luca twisted the neck of the escapee with a crack and a pop. When Luca turned around she was sure she'd never seen anything more deadly. His eyes burned, but the rest of his face remained as blank as if he had killed a bug on the wall.

Aron let out a frustrated sigh. We could have used him for information.

Luca kicked the body out of the way.

Aron released her red, raw wrists from their leather imprisonments. She hadn’t realized how much the pressure of the cuffs bothered her until they were off. How long had she been in that bed? Aron slid her legs to the floor and tugged pants onto her in one fluid movement. Her legs wobbled like old, warped bicycle tires. He removed a shirt from a black bag on the floor and held it out to her.

Can you get that on?

She stared at him, unblinking.

Have it your way. He reached to untie her hospital gown, but she shoved him away.

Good. He forced the shirt into her hand.

With a small attempt at modesty, she spun toward the corner, whipped off the gown, and pulled on the long-sleeve black shirt. The smooth feel of the weave caressed her bare skin as she pulled the large shirt down over her stomach, noticing her white as milk skin. Had she always been this pale? The scent of fabric softener hit her nose bringing with it a memory that she couldn't quite grasp. She squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to force the memory to the front of her consciousness, but it didn't work. Her neck prickled, and she opened her eyes to see Luca, his eyes like fire, staring at her recently covered breasts. He looked away quickly and her body flushed with warmth.

What was that?

Footsteps ran out of the stairwell, their pace quickened.

Luca was at her side in an instant. Taking her arm, he dragged her toward the open door. Aron. Out. Now, he yelled, making her shrink away from the booming sound.

The guy sitting at the computer tossed Aron a jump drive and Aron shoved the last few things into his bag.

Get ready, Luca said to the young guy at the computer.

Already on it, boss. He set up what looked like a small explosive device on the PC.

Victor turned, as if Luca had called to him, though Luca hadn’t made a sound. Victor nodded and closed his eyes.

Aron grabbed her by the arm. Sorry, sister, time to go.

The next thing she knew she was being dragged down the hall as five men burst through a set of double doors behind them. Victor stepped out of the doorway and thrust his hands in front of him. Over her shoulder she watched a large, clear arc of what she could only describe as a burst of energy from his body and plowed into the men, knocking them to the ground. The energy dissipated and spread out. She opened her mouth in silent surprise just as Luca exploded from the room, rushing the stunned men.

Aron yanked her around a corner and through a squeaky swinging door. They ran past carts of old medical supplies, dusty gurneys, and empty rooms. She tried to register various items as they raced past, but her mind couldn't process everything. The lights overheard flickered, and she wondered if Victor drew on some of their electrical energy for power.

Wait. Power? How could he generate power like that? It made no sense—like everything else that had transpired in the last ten minutes.

Everything blurred together as Aron forced her onward. Her body ached and her stomach tied in a knot. Scents filled her nostrils: old urine, musty linens, metal, and lemon floor wax. The lingering smells coated her tongue and made her head spin. Aron banged through an emergency door straight into a narrow stairwell. Everything tilted and then her legs buckled. She wrenched her arm free in time to keep her knees from hitting the cement floor. She stared at it for several seconds, gasping for breath.

She ran her fingers over the rough surface, taking in every ridge of the coarse texture. Why doesn’t the cement feel cold?

Aron crouched in front of her. We have to keep moving. I know you’ve just rebirthed, and you haven’t fed yet, but you need to get up.

What the hell was he talking about?

Aron pulled her to her feet and dragged her up the stairs. Still dizzy, her vision blurred and her skin slicked with sweat. She stumbled, almost falling again. Her stomach lurched and hunger pains stabbed her. Maybe something to eat wasn’t such a bad idea.

Whoa…easy. You don’t want to do that. Fixing a broken bone is not a fun process for us. Aron steadied her.

Us? What us?

We’re almost there. His voice was encouraging, his urgency to get outside palpable. Moonlight streamed in from a barred window high on the wall. They had nearly reached the door when she heard the whispers of people standing on the other side.

Wait! She screamed too late.

Aron pushed open the door and the brisk night air slapped her in the face.

Two large men waited for them. The first one grabbed Aron by the shirt and flung him to the ground. Aron’s messenger bag flew across the broken, crumbling blacktop and skidded to a stop a few feet away. A second arm reached through the door and grabbed her around the waist, pinning her to the outer wall of the building quicker than she could react.

She gasped for air as the large man knocked the wind out of her. Everything around her pulled into sharp focus as all her senses lit on fire. In the cold, clear night, moisture from the side of the cement building seeped through her shirt, chilling her. Crickets chirped over the sound of Aron and his assailant grappling on the ground.

Bright stars dotted the skyline over the shoulder of the man holding her, twinkling and sparkling with a clarity she had never noticed before. She knew she should be frightened, but her brain fired so fast, taking in all the information around her, that she had no time to process the danger she was in.

Aron crouched low, his skin prickling and snapping with light blue electricity like someone had lit up his arms with millions of tiny live wires. The man he fought circled, trying to find a way to end their standoff.

The slamming of a car door caught her attention. A broad shouldered man in fatigues stepped out of a sedan, holding something. Though he was over thirty feet away her eyes focused easily on the small object. An eight-inch-long glass tube with a long thin needle at the end glistened in the moonlight. Her mind suddenly kicked into action. If she didn’t do something fast, that needle was going to find its way into her body.

A memory flashed. A man stood over her with a thick needle pointed directly at her eye. This might pinch a little.

She twisted and churned underneath her captor's tightening grip. There was no way they were sticking her with that thing. She twisted, trying to get her arms free, and stomped on his booted feet.

He groaned and pressed into her harder. Hurry up! She’s comin’ alive.

The guy with the syringe jogged closer.

She pushed against the man's body and twisted her wrist, wrenching her right arm free of his grip. She pinched his underarm as hard as she could. He winced and his grip slacked enough for her to get her left arm free.

Reaching up she found the nearest exposed pieces of his skin she could reach. Her nails made deeper wounds in his face and neck than she thought possible. He howled in pain and smashed her across the face. Her head rocked into the wall and her lip split open on one side. She shook her head to clear the daze, and the smell hit her. Something sweet and tangy, rich and moist. Her stomach roared.

The man smelled better than a hamburger and fries, shake and apple pie all mixed into one. When she opened her eyes, her vision focused a hundred times clearer than before. The crevasses in the concrete blocks pressed into her skin like boulders, the static of Aron’s skin buzzed in her ears loud as a rock concert. But the smell overpowered her. She locked eyes on the man who had hit her. He stood a few steps away, holding his neck.

Brown. Get your ass over here! he bellowed.

Hunger blinded her. Blinded her to the syringe. Blinded her to Aron. Blinded her to the stars. In one quick movement leaped on him. As the force of her body knocked him to the ground, her mouth latched onto his exposed neck. Biting, ripping, tearing. It was soft and tender like a perfectly prepared steak tartar. Butter melting on warm toast. She bit harder, his screams barely pierced through the veil of hunger. The sounds stabbed her eardrums and reverberated in her head, but didn’t matter. He tried in vain to push her off, but with each of her attacks his protests grew weaker and weaker.

She was hungry. So hungry. Like she'd hibernated for the winter, her body woke up from its weary slumber as sustenance flowed from her stomach to her legs, arms, fingers and toes in a strange but satisfying sensation.

She caught quick movement from the corner of her eye and her vision lit on the man with the syringe. He was only steps away.

Get Away!

The man flew through the air and hit the ground hard next to his car. Her brain flooded with hunger again and she lowered her mouth to the awaiting neck. She bit down again just as strong hands ripped her away.

Screaming, she kicked and struggled against him, clawing her way back to the food. Luca spun her around and grabbed her by the arms.

Stop, he shouted. The touch of his body tingled and electrified her. A look of surprise crossed his face, and he pushed her away from the physical contact. Letting his grip slacken for a moment was all it took. She lunged forward, grabbed his arm and ripped into his flesh. More. I need more. She had just torn into him when Luca screamed, into her head.

Stop!

His words were meaningless chatter but at the taste of him her stomach revolted. There was no smell, no flavor, nothing—like eating tofu. A second later a blast of energy rammed into her, knocking her down. She groaned and looked over to find Victor in the stairwell doorway, holding up the barely conscious computer kid with one arm, his other arm outstretched toward her.

She rolled over and looked up at Luca, who stood a foot away cradling his mangled forearm to his chest, staring at her, his eyes ablaze. Aron, who had finished the fight with his assailant, ran toward Luca.

The dead man she had been feeding on lay at Luca’s feet. The smell of him struck her again making her stomach growl even though the richness of him wore off like yesterday's leftovers.

No!

Luca stepped forward. She growled. He narrowed his eyes, growling back. Letting go of his injured arm he crouched in the same defensive stance she had seen Aron assume.

She tried to move forward, but he jumped in the way.

Stop it! He won’t taste the same now anyway. Don’t try.

Her gaze drifted to the body but she didn’t move. She craved the dead food on the ground. She stared at the blazing orange eyes of Luca who barred the way between her and the dead man. Minutes passed and neither backed down; he watched her like a living statue. He had a hundred pounds on her and over a foot in height. She wasn't sure if she could take him and she wasn't sure she wanted to try either.

An owl hooted in the distance, and a breeze blew past her face.

We’ve got to get out of here, Luca, Victor called from the driver’s side of the SUV. More will show up when no one reports in.

Luca nodded, but kept his eyes trained on her.

Finally, Aron broke the stand-off and stepped between them. He lifted Luca's arm and looked at it but Luca didn't even seem to notice. I need to take care of that arm.

Suddenly her legs gave out and she fell on her rear. What the hell was happening to her?

Her head buzzed, her body tingled and pulsed with an energy not her own. She stared at the stars again, trying to process everything around her. Luca could speak in her mind. Victor and Aron had some kind of electric abilities. She could hear everything for miles. She could make out distant stars in vivid detail. Smells, feelings, sights, hearing, all of it was a thousand times stronger than she ever thought possible.

A dream. It had to be a dream. There was no other explanation for why she couldn't remember who she was or where she came from or why she was in a rundown hospital being attacked by armed men and saved by... whatever the rest of them were.

Victor grabbed her by the arms and pulled her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He stomped to the SUV and dumped her inside.

The smell of piña colada air freshener and raw meat assaulted her. She looked into the backseat where the computer guy lay not moving—his coloring very blue. Turning away from the sight, she peered out the window. The dead eyes of the man she'd killed stared at her accusingly. She dropped her gaze to her hands. She hadn’t meant to, but something had taken over, a hunger she'd been unable to control. An all-consuming need for food- not regular food though… human food.

The front passenger door opened and Aron hopped in and turned on a hard rock radio station. Victor put the vehicle in gear and cranked up the air, making it whistle through the vents.

Luca slid into the seat next to her, his arm wrapped in gauze, anger radiated off of him in waves. She turned to her window, but the dead man lay gaping at her. Trapped between the two of them she dropped her gaze to the floor.

Her hyper eyesight began to dim.

What am I? she whispered.

Luca looked over at her. Victor pulled out onto a road as cracked and broken as the parking lot. They bumped along for several minutes when Aron finally answered her.

You are reanimated dead human tissue. Your physical body is dead, but your spirit lives on inside. Your tissues have reanimated due to a virus of sorts.

Huh?

You died. Luca stared ahead. Someone brought you back.

I died, and someone brought me back?

Yes.

So, I’m alive?

No.

Not helpful. But how? Why?

That’s what we want to know. He continued staring ahead.

She tried to comprehend the words. I was dead, and now I am back, but not alive. I’m something else.

Yes.

Is that what you all are?

Yes.

So…what do you consider yourself then?

Luca’s eyes met hers. A Deader.

CHAPTER TWO

MONTHS EARLIER

Warm, thick air filled Evaine’s lungs, and she gazed up at the clouds rolling in. They blanketed the sky like waves of dirty cotton. Stormy weather, her favorite, but she didn’t want to get caught in the rain today. The four dollar a load dryers at the laundromat weren’t a luxury she could afford. And nothing every truly dried in her damp apartment.

Picking up her pace she headed toward the office of Mac, her fine arts adviser. The wind pushed her across the quad, and the first droplet of water hit her cheek. She pulled down the long sleeves of her worn henley and zipped her hoodie, which was about as good at keeping out the chill as paper would be keeping out a charging bull.

Evaine’s mind drifted as she joined the throng of students rushing to get out of the drizzle. Without permission, her brain turned to overdue bills. Trying to live on small grants and student loans was harder than she would have thought, considering how she’d grown up. Rent had been due a week ago, and she wondered why her pitbull of a landlord hadn’t been banging down her door like the last million times her rent had been twenty minutes late. Not that the miniscule studio—hole—was worth what she paid. She needed to come up with some cash, fast, and her arms were so sore from donating plasma that she needed to wait at least another week to do it again.

She’d been able to save up enough money in high school from working as a secretary in the mobile home park office to afford the first semester of school but that’s all.

Getting a job in New York had proved harder than expected in a city with millions of other actors, models, and artists struggling to get by as well- and all with more work history than she had. She’d gotten one for a short time right before getting a part in the school’s rendition of Taming of the Shrew last semester, but she had to quit because of rehearsals.

The small stipend they’d given her for the part had helped her get through to the point she was at, but the money had run out the week before.

The voice of her mother, Phyllis, chimed in. Life would be easier if you’d let Tristan help out.

Sigh. Evaine absently rubbed her finger where the huge diamond ring he had given her rarely sat. She refused to wear it for the sheer size was bound to get her mugged—not to mention she didn’t want anyone knowing she was engaged at only twenty. Not that she didn’t love him. He’d been her first boyfriend and she’d never loved anyone but him. Kind, funny and generous, Tristan had been her lifeline for the last five years. She’d never known what he’d seen in her, he could have had any girl he wanted, and yet, he loved her. The thought made her smile.

Some people were bound to accuse her of marrying Tristan for his money. Heaven knew her mother had tried for years to teach her how to use her body to catch a man of means. But Evaine couldn’t stand for anyone to find out she shared one shred of DNA with the woman who had birthed her. Phyllis had been little better than a prostitute and there was no way Evaine would to take a penny of Tristan’s money to pay for anything until they married; and even then she didn’t think she would ever get used to it. She’d always prided herself for being able to stand on her own.

Witnessing Phyllis use sex as a weapon had steered Evaine to decide not to have sex until married.

He was the only good thing to ever happen to her. The only person she had ever let in—or trusted. Even so, she’d never let his money be her security. Between his trust fund and job he could more than pay for five penthouse apartments on Park Avenue for her if she wanted. She may have been brought up in a trailer park in the lowest corner of town, but that didn’t mean she had to act like it by becoming a gold digger. The only thing she’d let Tristan pay for was her cellphone, and that was because he’d convinced her the only way he would feel comfortable with her living and traveling to and from school on her own in the big city was if she had one. So, she’d allowed him to buy her one.

Phyllis’s voice sounded in her head again. A cellphone is nothing. Couldn’t hurt to ask for a few dollars as well.

Hey, Evaine!

The wind whipped her hair into her face as she lifted her head. A tall, lanky guy with shaggy surfer curls blowing into his light eyes fell into step beside her and grabbed the door to the Fine Arts Building, holding it open.

Hey, Jeff.

Where you off to?

I need to see Mac. She ducked under his arm, catching a whiff of his cologne. The scent made her body tingle.

She brushed the water from her damp hoodie and turned down the hallway toward Mac’s office.

Jeff was a sweet guy, not bad looking in his horn-rimmed glasses. She shyly glanced up at Jeff, who smiled at her.

The previous year when they'd done a rendition of Taming of the Shrew together, Jeff had been especially nice to her. He’d asked her out a couple times, but she’d made up excuses. She hadn’t been sure what to say. No one knew about Tristan, and she wanted to keep it that way. She wasn’t ashamed of him, by any means. She just didn’t like the attention that came from dating one of New York’s most eligible bachelors.

Most girls would probably brag about a rich VP of marketing boyfriend and a gigantic, five-carat diamond ring. But she still wondered what Tristan had been thinking when he’d bought that lighthouse beacon for her to wear on her hand. Maybe he’d bought her such a big ring to make up for all the other things she wouldn’t let him pay for; knowing she couldn’t turn down the ring without turning him down as well, which she wouldn’t have done