By Reading This, You Are Stating That You Are 18 Years Of Age. If You Are Under The Age Of 18, It Is Necessary To Exit This Site.
Trefoil
BY
Em Petrova
EXCERPT
The woman who paused on the cemetery path contained a soft, flickering glow like a candle in a very still room, wavering when first lit, and then swelling into yellow radiance. The weak winter sunlight contributed nothing to this, and Nathan knew if he drew her into the shadows, she would still possess a clear, golden look that only immortals have. He should know.
His eyes flashed open. He bolted upright in bed, his hands twisting into the sheets. His words were a harsh rasp tumbling from his open mouth. “The Calling.”
He blinked at his surroundings. Tall armoire, hand-carved by his father centuries ago. Wash basin with porcelain pitcher, the scent of his mother’s handmade soap still clinging to it. No glowing immortal woman.
Yet he saw her.
His view of her was impaired, like looking through a fog or a keyhole. The tunnel of vision shifted upward to encompass a white lily tucked behind her ear and the mahogany tendril of hair that was lifted on the stiff wind.
Nathan ground his teeth with frustration, desperate to see more. The keyhole shifted and he was offered a view of her lower lip as she pulled it, glistening, from between her teeth.
He leapt to his feet, his forehead and neck soaked with sweat. Though his eyes were fixed upon the soft light of dawn shimmering through his bedroom window, the images of her continued to come. The air palpitated with them. His heart palpitated with them. His immortal blood palpitated with them.
When the view shifted again, he was unprepared for the sight of her naked back, a rope of hair draped across one shoulder, and the zigzagging, floral tattoo on her spine. His fingers knotted into fists and his breath exploded from his lungs. His mouth watered to press his lips to that tattoo, knowing when he did, she would make the vital sound which would bind them—a gasp.
The sound itself was a sandpapery rasp, rending a hole in his chest that only she could fill.
He whirled to the window. The Vermont morning light was pale and watery and yellow, not the glowing, green light that had spread its fingers through his room and fallen upon the body of the woman in his Vision. But she was out there. She had Called to him, that woman with the flowering vine of a tattoo.
Nathan trapped his skull between white-knuckled fists. Where? Where would he begin tracking her?
He jammed his feet into his abandoned shoes and launched himself through the open window and into the brisk morning…running.
When the husband Lillian LeClair has been bound to since World War II takes her on vacation which turns out to be a tour of cemeteries; she is bombarded by glimpses into a mysterious man’s soul as well as memories of her life as a mortal. Once she realizes this mystery man is tracking her, she is frantic to escape. But the phenomenon known as the Calling has her in its grip and Lillian is aboard the runaway train which will inevitably link them.
Famous and centuries-old sculptor Nathan Halbrook is on the receiving end of Lillian’s Call, and is tormented to discover the woman he’s waited years for is the wife of another man. As Nathan and Lillian come face to face, they find themselves embroiled in the puzzling events surrounding Lillian's delivery into immortal life. While the holes of her memory are plugged, a sacrifice is made to keep Lillian Walking and in the arms of her immortal mate.
To My Reader: Some writers begin with characters and create conflict for them. The trio of main characters in Trefoil came at me backwards, as the ending unfolded to me first. I wrote the ending scene, and as I was writing, other scenes flashed through my mind. At the time, I didn’t yet have a computer, so the entire novel was written longhand on spiral notebooks. Thirteen in all, and in this case, I consider thirteen to be a lucky number. Trefoil was actually the first book I wrote after a long stint of writer’s block following our first child’s death, and at the moment of inspiration, I just knew I had to bring these characters to life. Writing had never been more than a hobby to me, but with the birth of these characters, a new passion rose inside me, fueling a drive to be published and share these stories with readers.
While writing Trefoil, I fell in love with a secondary character, Will Cochran, who told me his story of the phenomenon known as The Calling, which links immortals to their mates. So the first book of the Immortal Series—Runes—was written second. Speaking in terms of time, Trefoil fits between scenes of Runes.
Every character in the Immortal Series speaks deeply to me, and I can’t wait to reveal more of their stories. However, as the first book I wrote after a seven-year dry spell, Trefoil will always hold a special place in my heart.
Tell A Friend
Read Excerpt
