Few Are Angels (36 page)

I push myself away from tree on wobbly knees that try to refuse to bear my weight, but I don’t fall over. I reach for him, for strength, for clarity and stability, but he only stares at me. His smile is sharp and seductive. He wavers, his face thins and turns into plumes of smoke and as he disappears he calls to me. Though his voice is different, it’s familiar—heavier, laced with awe and anticipation. This is the voice I am used to hearing in my head; the one that whispers to me. He reappears somewhere behind me, and though I can’t see him, I feel his heat as it exudes over me in a dense fog. The scent of ash and soot overwhelms me. From the urgency in his voice to the bite of his touch, I know this is not Kale. He calls to me, begs for me. He needs me. This is the voice I have carried for so long and it belongs to
him.
He has found me here where Kale has left me, alone and unarmed. The promise of protection is nothing now that I lay here in the snow, this man above me. I accept it because what choice do I have? It’s my life or theirs, right?

Acknowledgements

I’d like to thank those who had faith in me when I didn’t have faith in myself, those who put up with my many mood swings and those who understood me while I was in “hermit” mode.

So, to make this short and sweet I would like to thank my mother and family for their input and patience. My wonderful treehuggin’ boyfriend for putting up with me and my mood swings—trust me it wasn’t easy. I’d like to thank a couple of my favorite authors S.L. Naeole, Jennifer Turner and Shelena Shorts. Their passion, help and advice helped me through times when I wondered if I would ever release this book.

Also, to all of the bloggers that took the time to interview a no-name author like myself, thank you. You honestly make it possible for indie authors to get their name out there when they don’t have an agent or publishing company to advertise for them. You guys are as good any other form of advertising and it seems that at times you word is golden!

To everyone else that had a hand in the process from advice about writing, creating my website and its content to the encouragement and patience, Thank You.

www.ingeriversen.com

About the Author

Kristen Iversen was born to Anne Iversen and Kaii Iversen Sr. on August 22 in Virginia Beach.

I first decided to write when I was eight years old and my mother read a story to me about a princess and a frog. Most little girls swooned over a cute prince and desired to be the princess, whereas I wanted to change the end of the story. I played with my dolls and friends instead of writing and as I grew up I continued to place writing on the back burner. That was until I was 18 and a friend explained to me his desire to write a book. It bought back memories of the eight year old that had a passion to change and create stories, but I still didn’t act on it. Writing was a dream and real life was happening then and there. I was in between jobs and with the recent loss of my father I decided, in a battle of following dreams vs. real life, real life would win hands down. Over the next 10 years I made and lost friends, went to college, changed my major, fell in love, changed my major, dealt with loss, changed my major, fell in love and wrote a short story. That was when I realized that whether or not I was successful or not, I would write and write until I ran out of ideas or loss the use of my fingers.