What would you do if the past changed everything you ever thought you were?
Everything Michael Marsden has ever believed about himself is about to come crashing down around his ears. The life he never wanted is never going to let him go. How can he deal with the future when the past changes everything?
When Doyle’s memories come back, they discover the past isn’t always about what you remember. Sometimes, some people live the same life over. What happens when he realises the cycle has to end?
With help from their family and friends, Michael and Doyle are faced with an uncertain future in the fight to regain a sense of self. With each new revelation of what was, Venetia and her followers are knocking on the door and threatening war. She’s crazier than ever and hell-bent on revenge.
Will what happened in their past be enough to save their future?
The Fun Never Ends
For once in his life, Michael Marsden would’ve liked to have woken up when everything was absolutely perfect and he wasn’t in some sort of mortal fucking danger. Burning fury rocketed through him with the force of a lightning strike at the way his day was beginning. On the upside of this whole fucked up situation, this wake-up call had kicked his adrenaline up a notch or three. With a burst of his gifted vampiric speed, he rolled to the side of the bed and dropped to the hard floor as his attacker attempted to permanently remove his head from where it rested on his shoulders.
Not gonna happen. Well, not today at least.
There was no doubt in Michael’s mind Venetia was the one behind this current state of being attacked at the arse-crack of dawn. No one else hated him this much. Except for maybe Heather, but honestly he hadn’t been home enough lately to piss her off. Venetia and her rapidly growing band of idiotic followers were starting to become a big fat pain in his arse. The closer Michael got to actually finding a cure for Doyle’s memory loss, the more interference Venetia threw his way. Everything would be okay if the bitch played fair. The only problem was Venetia didn’t believe in fair.
The truth was Venetia was pissed at him for more reasons than he was able to take the time to count right now, and he was starting to lose track of why she actually wanted him dead. Her intentions seemed to change with each passing day. Michael supposed it really didn’t matter why she hated him, yet he knew her three main motives were: One: he was the mirror image of Benj. Two: when she had orchestrated to have Gypsy taken, Michael had gone in and taken her right back. And three: when she’d had Doyle kidnapped and tortured, Michael had once again walked in and reclaimed what was his. Mind you, the bitch did get the last laugh in taking Doyle’s memories of Michael while leaving everything else intact. Her actions only filled Michael with the desire to fulfil his ultimate goal of seeing her dead.
Michael lay on the floor wondering why the hell it was taking so long for his attacker to get on with the job. His assailant seemed to stop and listen, as if trying to gauge what Michael’s next move was going to be. The fucker probably didn’t even know how good of a fighter he was. The fact was, he’d had to shut down his pacifist tendencies and harden the fuck up ever since the night long ago when he’d woken up as a vampire and had his existence changed forever. To this day, he still both loved and despised Christian for turning him. He’d completely forgiven him, but it’d still pained him to find out his vampirism was because he resembled Benj so much, even if Christian hadn’t understood why. For a short time in the beginning, he’d loved deeply and hurt greatly when Christian had regained some of his lost memories and the truth had come out.
He also had come to realise Venetia was taking out her hatred for Benj on him, mainly because she couldn’t get close enough to Benj to harm him. The rumour was at some stage in a distant lifetime, Venetia had loved Benj with her whole being-if such a feat was even possible. Michael very much doubted it, because the bitch had a heart of ice and was twice as cold. The real problem for Venetia was Benj was in love with her brother, Christian. Michael knew she would never forgive Benj for choosing Christian over her.
Somebody should tell her to build a fucking bridge and get over herself.
Not that she would listen.
Also, Venetia was apparently jealous that Christian had been the one in their family to be blessed, or cursed-depending on which way a person looked at it. He had inherited the power of a Drarcaine which ran in the Kincaid lineage. Venetia wanted the magic for herself, and now with her fucked up logic she had gotten it into her head the only way to take said abilities was to kill both Christian and her father, Varnoskulos. Michael couldn’t allow either death to occur. Especially as the whole magic of being a Drarcaine had somehow given him and Christian the same fucking soul to share. Fucked up was an understatement in their strange relationship, especially now as they weren’t even together. Not that it mattered, seeing as Christian had always truly belonged with Benj. Weirdly, the upside of their bond meant Michael and Christian also powered each other up. On the other hand, the downside was if one of them died, so would the other. Yeah, reality was so not fun.
Christ on a cracker, if his guy didn’t hurry the fuck up Michael was going to die of old age before he started his attack. As an eerie silence filled the room around him, Michael had to wonder if his would-be assassin had disappeared or something. Not that Michael was stupid enough to move to find out. Venetia might be a calculating bitch, but more often than not these lackeys she sent after him were dumber than a box of rocks. He actually relished the breather, the moron above him was probably waiting on Michael to do something. Michael was more than willing to wait the prick out. Having fought so many opponents before he was easily going to defeat this idiot as well.
As he lay there, Michael’s mind wandered to Doyle Kerwin. Michael believed wholeheartedly he truly belonged to his consort. The major setback with Doyle’s memory loss was he no longer even knew he and Michael had once been something more than friends. Even now, the â€˜friends’ thing was a bit of a stretch. With each passing day, Doyle seemed to like him less and less. At first, Doyle had accepted what the rest of the extended family-who he did remember-had told him about being Michael’s consort, yet lately even those memories seemed to be fading from his mind. In the end, Michael had to come to terms with the fact that he probably wasn’t meant to be happy.
Hence the reason why he now went on so many missions.
NJ needs to write like she needs to breathe. It’s an addiction she never intends to find a cure for. When you don’t find NJ arguing with Vlad, her muse, or writing about the wonderful men in her stories, you’ll find her reading work by other authors she greatly admires. NJ lives on five acres situated in the SE of Qld, Australia with her family who all encourage her writing career (even if she does occasionally call them by her character’s names), and her variety of pets. NJ thinks anyone who takes the time to read her stuff is totally awesome, and wants to thank you all.
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