Good Morning,
The start of a new week and Desecrating Solomon is almost here, just 3 more days to go.
Here's a peek at the cover and and another snippet for you to enjoy.






‪#‎Thriller‬ ‪#‎romance‬ ‪#‎Comingsoon‬


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Snippet #10

During the Waking training she’d had the first nightmare. Master was patiently spraying her naked body for hours with a special hose. The icy water spikes pierced her skin while she hung in the shackles. It had felt like angry ants on fire. She’d lost consciousness and dreamed she was tied to the ant bed with the baby possum. She couldn’t move or speak, but she was alive. All she could do was cry and they didn’t care or notice because it was just soul fluids. The ants ate her like ants are supposed to, ate her until there was nothing left, while she died slowly and quietly like the possum had.

It was a tormenting nightmare because as real and terrifying as the pain was, the dream was the only connection she had left with the animal. She wasn't sure how but the possum had become a part of her. A her she didn’t really know but… maybe wanted to.
But for the first time, the nightmare was different. While she cried quietly and screamed silently, somebody heard. A person knelt next to her that she couldn’t see and took hold of her hand. It was a he. A he that hummed so very softly.

The terror melted away along with the ties that held her down. She floated up into the air, into the warm sunlight where there were no ants, no fear, no pain. Just the sun’s rays, cradling her and the baby possum.

And that voice. She realized finally that it was familiar. Maybe the voice belonged to the sun because it possessed the same warmth. It was soft, yet strong and sure, like the rays after a storm. It was unlike anything she’d ever heard or experienced.

****

Exhaustion claimed Solomon and he laid his head on the bed while holding her hand. At some point the sound of her whimpers woke him. She needed more medicine but when he’d try to unlatch her hand from his to get up and get it, her grip turned desperate.

Staying put, he sat there, feeling helpless and useless. He realized then that she was dreaming. No doubt about what happened to her. The bright idea to sing came to him. But what song? There was only one he knew entirely and it had at one time been his favorite.

Keeping his voice low so as not to startle her, he sang it. And to his shock, it seemed to be working. He could feel it with every second, her small fingers slowly relaxing. When she seemed to be resting, Solomon stared at her lopsided face, his gut clenching as usual. Out of ideas, he decided to do the one thing he’d given up on. Going over each body part he’d called out to her earlier when assessing the damage, he prayed for it. At this point, it couldn’t hurt.

After playing Saint Peter, he managed to slide his hand out of hers and stood. She’d be hungry when she woke. And if she wasn’t, she’d need to eat regardless. He should go take care of Miss Mary now while she slept. By then the stores would be open and he could run and get supplies and suitable foods. He ate out of cans for the most part but that was because he had no reason to use his culinary skills. Those were intended for special occasion, and since he’d lost his fiancée there’d been none of those.

Before turning away, Solomon stared at the nameless woman one last time. He felt a rush of emotion at the fact that he’d found her. Saved her. At the fact that he’d heard her calling him. At the fact that God had let him hear it. He often felt like his fiancée had called him while enduring whatever happened to her. It was only half a year since he’d managed to put down the rabid obsession of finding at least her remains. He just… needed something to finish it.

And here lay this woman in his cabin not long after he made his peace with God over it. All the why, why, why’s had been beat to death. Why didn’t God tell him where his fiancée was, show him, or help him find her? Why? What had Solomon ever done to deserve that?

It was eating him alive. But his uncle finally knocked sense into him one day. Literally. He wasn’t sure what shocked him more, the fact that he knew how to throw a punch or the fact that he did. And at him. But Solomon had more than asked for it. He’d insulted his own dead mother while drunk and cursing God up and down.

“He took her like He took my mother. To torment me! To kill me and keep me alive to live dead! She did this, she let that bastard do this and your stupid loving God allowed it!!”

Solomon could still see it plain in his mind how his uncle calmly stood up from the kitchen table and decked him right in the mouth. Flat on his back, his uncle’s face was still clear as day before his, finger pointing at him. “That was for your mother. God can handle his own, but don’t you ever speak that way about my sister, you hear me? She loved you more than her own life!”

His words caused everything to boil over in his heart, and the tears he could never shed finally came. That was the day things changed. He couldn’t really point to any one thing as to how or why, but for the first time since Solomon could remember, there was something heavy gone from inside. The angry heavy. It had been there from childhood and it was just gone. He no longer wanted to kill his father, he no longer wanted to kill himself, he no longer wanted to kill, period. There was just this… sense of ease where the biting turmoil had been. He wouldn’t call it peace but it wasn’t hell anymore.

Solomon took in the reddish orange hair that went past her shoulders. It seemed thick even though disheveled and matted with a lot of blood. God, she needed a bath. And all he had was a shower. Maybe by tomorrow he could sponge off some of the filth and horrific memories.

To be continued....tomorrow
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See you later,
Lucian