Purpose

“…
Promise
is an exciting and
fascinating fantasy of demons and angels, highly recommended.” –
Midwest Book Review

“…
Promise
becomes a page-turner that
keeps the reader spell-bound to the end, eager to discover what
comes next…” – The Charlotte Sun

“…
Promise
shocked me…I truly didn’t
expect to be up all night reading it and to be completely blown
away…the writing is outstanding…full of intriguing characters,
romance, suspense, and mystery, with a little sexiness thrown in…an
alluring adventure that you can’t help but want to explore…” –
Confessions of a Bookaholic

“…thrilling, action packed, with rich and
endearing characters, mystery and a love story unlike most
others…all the key ingredients and then some to quickly become the
book everyone wants to read…descriptive writing, strong characters
that were easy to cheer for and a love story to leave your heart
tingling…with an ending that’ll leave you wanting more…” – A Life
Bound by Books

“...
Promise
is intense – in the best
way possible – it shook me to my very core…an amazing world, full
of the little details…characters that took my breath away…it
encapsulated me, spun a web that became impenetrable…a beautiful
escape, with rich details…” – Book Crazy

“…I started reading
Promise
the day I
received it and I honestly read it cover to cover in one
day…suspenseful, action-packed, original, fast-paced and well
written…I am on pins and needles waiting for the next installment
titled
Purpose
…one of the best books I have read in a
while…” – Extreme Reader Book Reviews

“…from the very first chapter, I was tossed
in the sea of emotions that
Promise
brought…left nothing
out, detailing everything perfectly…Did this book have Promise? It
sure as hell did…” – Books With Bite

“…I loved every moment of
Promise
…the
book flowed smoothly with unexpected twists that kept me turning
pages long into the night…heart-wrenching and heart-warming
journey…incredible writing…” – A Simple Love of Reading

“…
Promise
is a fantastic love
story…the paranormal Romeo and Juliet…better than Twilight!!” – Ex
Libris Book Reviews

by

Kristie Cook

*****

SMASHWORDS EDITION

*****

PUBLISHED BY

Kristie Cook/Ang'dora Productions, LLC

On Smashwords

This book is also available in print at all
major retailers.

Purpose

Copyright © 2010 by Kristie Cook

*****

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to
other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If
you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com
and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work
of this author.

Please do not participate in or encourage
piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's
rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters and events are either products of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

For Yvonne Clark and Gertrude Perguson

And in honor of

Sheree Cook Chestnut

This is truly the hardest part of a book to
write. There are so many people who made this book a reality,
including you, the reader.

Thank you to my publishing team at Ang’dora
Productions for your dedication and support. Chrissi Jackson, you
have been my lifeline to reality, keeping me on track through all
the insanity. Thank you for everything you’ve done…especially for
the word “dictate.” Thank you, Lisa Adams, for your positive
energy, beautiful spirit, keen eyes and willingness to enter and
support the chaos. You are both real gifts from the Angels.

Thank you to my writing buddies who helped me
build and polish this story into what it is today. Meredith S.
Wood, I appreciate your challenges and camaraderie. Judy Spelbring,
thank you for being real in your critiques, for pointing out my
weaknesses and for helping me move beyond “it.” Michelle Gregory, I
so love that you are as invested in my characters as in your own,
helping me to see where I have not done them justice. Thank you, as
well, for being my indie partner-in-crime. I appreciate all of you
and what you’ve done for the story.

Of course, none of this would have happened
without the patience, support and love of my family. Thank you to
my boys – Zakary, Austin and Nathan – for being so freaking awesome
that I sometimes can’t breathe because I’m so proud of you. You’ve
really been amazing throughout this process and I can’t thank you
enough. Thank you, Shawn, for your continued encouragement and
commitment. Thank you, Mom, Dad, Keena and Terry, for all that
you’ve done, past, present and future. And thank you, Grandma
Yvonne, for passing down the love of words, reading and
writing.

Finally, once again, thank you, the reader,
for your love of Alexis and Tristan and their story. I sincerely
appreciate your reviews, advocacy and support. You’ve motivated me
to keep going, when I really just wanted to sleep. I appreciate
your devotion and patience and I hope you enjoy this next part of
the tale of the ultimate warrior and the fierce protector.

Living with half a soul is like living
forever in the hour before dawn, when the sky is no longer black,
but a dark, charcoal gray, waiting for the light. It’s like
clinging to the hope of a new day lingering just beyond the
horizon. The new day that never comes. The light that never
brightens the world.

I live in varying shades of darkness and with
each shade, I feel like a different person entirely…but always only
half a person. Always half empty. Except when I’m with my son, when
I feel the most like the real me, the old me. When I am Almost
Alexis. Dorian pushes the darkness away and brightens my life. With
him, I actually feel half full.

But then there’s Swirly Alexis, who
disorients my thoughts to the point where I don’t know what is real
and what is fiction, swirling my world into confusion.

And Psycho Alexis is blind to everything but
rage, lashing out with a heart and soul black as ink.

Foggy Alexis, however, rules most of the
time, allowing me to live in a dense fog, with no clear edges to my
life, my thoughts, my feelings. She numbs the pain so I can survive
without screaming.

The only sure thing I know is the rope of
hope I hold so tightly to—the hope that Tristan still lives. That
he will come back. Just as he promised.

Over time, however, the rope has thinned and
now begins to fray. I have tried to strengthen it by making a
promise of my own. That I will rescue him from his hell after I go
through the
Ang’dora
—a promise he may never know but I will
nonetheless keep. If the
Ang’dora
arrives before it’s too
late. As time passes, I don’t know if I can continue hanging on.
What remains of the rope is now just a thin thread. If it breaks, I
will plunge into an abyss of complete darkness.

For now, the thread still remains intact. And
as long as it does, I will hold on. I will hold onto that hope.
Even if doing so means living in darkness. Even if it means living
with just half a soul, as half a person. Because I am reminded
nightly that I need to, that our souls are worth it.

For a short time every night, I allow myself
to remember, if only in my subconscious. And then I know again what
it feels like to have a whole soul. To feel loved. To be complete.
To live in a world of beautiful color and light. To know that he
lives. And so does the Real Alexis. Somewhere, we cling to each
other, our souls still united. Somewhere, we live together in the
light.

But then the sun rises and life goes dark
again….

March, Present Day

We sat side-by-side on white sand, gentle
waves sliding onto the beach with just a whisper and the sun low,
about to tuck itself behind the horizon. Pink, purple and gold
streaked the sky and reflected on the water. The mixed smell of
salt and cocoa butter wafted on the warm air. I closed my eyes and
inhaled deeply, trying to pull the whole scene in so it would
become a part of me. His tangy-sweet scent filled my senses. Fresh
mangos and papayas mixed with lime and sage and just a hint of man.
I would never forget that smell.

I opened my eyes to find his exquisite face
only inches from mine. My heart skipped a beat—or three or four.
The gold flecks in his hazel eyes sparkled brightly. His full lips
lifted at the corners in an enticing smile. He lifted his hand to
stroke my cheek. His fingers lingered, his palm gently cupping my
face. He leaned forward, still holding my eyes. He hesitated. My
heart stopped beating. My breathing ceased, too. And the rest of
the world melted away as his lips met mine and he kissed me for the
first time.

In a heartbeat, we rode his motorcycle along
the causeway to Gasparilla Island. The engine rumbled underneath
me, the sound loud but comforting. I wrapped my arms tightly around
his waist and pressed myself into his powerful body. We stopped at
our favorite place on the beach and just sat on the bike, watching
the dolphins. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against his. His
lovely voice murmured, “I love you,
ma lykita
.”

When I opened my eyes again, we were at our
beach house in the Florida Keys, the one he built for my wedding
present. The white leather bodice of my dress fell to the floor.
Then he lifted me to the bed. And we made love for the first time.
Then we were in the shower. Then the motel shower in North
Carolina. It was our last time. Ever.

I closed my eyes, wanting to hold onto him
because I knew what came next. When I opened them again, we were at
the safe house and I begged him not to leave. Then he led Stefan,
Owen and Solomon out the front door and into the battle. Scenes
flashed quickly—shooting lights, mangled body parts, spurting
blood. They were suddenly somewhere else, another field, the safe
house nowhere in sight. Daemoni attacked the powerful warrior, once
theirs. He fought, but there were too many. Dozens of dog-like
creatures.
Hundreds
of them. Their fangs sank into his
flesh. The scene changed again, now to a foreign place. A desert
valley or some kind of cavern, stone mountains or walls reaching to
the sky. He could no longer fight back, but writhed on the ground,
his beautiful face contorted in agony. And then he went still.

“
NOOOO!”
I screamed.

My eyes flew open and I gasped for air. I
looked around wildly as my eyes adjusted to the abrupt change.
Darkness surrounded me. My fists clamped the bed sheet to my chest.
The duvet hung off the edge of the bed, kicked to the side. I
forced myself to pull in a long, controlled breath, and then let
the air out just as slowly. My breaths eventually became even and
my heart finally settled. I looked at the clock, already knowing it
was around 3:45 a.m. The blue lights glowed 3:51.

Every night was the same as the one before.
Regardless of what time I would finally fall asleep, around 3:45 I
would awake screaming and gasping for breath. My imagination
created the last part of the memory-dream, but the rest was real
and very precious. Some nights, when my subconscious knew my soul
needed more, I relived some of our other times together.

I threw myself back on the pillow and
squeezed my eyes shut, trying to remember in my conscious mind what
my subconscious could so easily play back. I struggled to pull the
image of the beautiful face back into clarity. The edges blurred,
as if an oily film coated the lens I looked through.
I’m losing
him.
The image had become dim, faded with time.
I can’t
forget. I can’t forget, damn it!
But remembering had become so
hard. My dreams showed Tristan perfectly, but my waking mind had
lost the clarity, unable to focus on the details.