Chapter 1
“Shrinking in a corner, pressed into the wall; do they know I'm present, am I here at all?” ~ Lang Leav
Myria
Myria drifted down the hall like a wispy tendril of smoke. The other students rarely acknowledged her in the periphery and she tried to remain just out of their focus. Myria liked it that way.
She paused to open her wooden cube door and grab her books for her first class. She pulled out her water bladder and took a swig from it, her eyes glancing to the mirror on the inside of her cube. In the reflection behind her, she saw Iona Skye walk past in an emerald green sweater dress that set off Iona’s curvy figure and volumes of copper curls. Even in the refractive lighting of the Spar calcite mounted in the ceilings, Iona positively glowed.
Myria sighed as she put the water bag back in her storage cube. She ran a hand through her own hair, but it just fell back straight again against her heart-shaped face. It would never have beautiful curls and color like Iona’s hair. Myria closed her wooden cube door and stepped back into the flow of traffic, her lean frame blending into the masses as she made her way to first period history class.
“Alright class, take out your history books and turn to page 287. This week, we’ll be starting our review of the War between Upper Blacklands and the Western Forest. Historically, this –”
The door opened sharply and banged against the hallway wall, causing Myria to flinch in her chair. Myria felt her pulse skitter when a dark figure strode purposefully into the room and stopped to hand Mrs. Strymer a handful of documents.
The chatter, paper rustling, and chair squeaks came to a halt and a hush fell over the classroom as all eyes fell on the newcomer’s profile. Myria studied him while he was looking at Mrs. Strymer. He was dark in every sense of the word. He had raven black hair that was tousled about and ended just at the collar of his black jacket. He had dark heavy brows and almost olive-tan skin. Myria’s stare traveled the length of him. He was tall and his defined, lean muscles could be discerned in his fitted but worn black jeans. He wore heavy black scuffed boots that were loosely laced. He was beautiful.
Her own silvery-grey eyes skirted back up in time to catch the passing glance of his dark gaze as he began to turn and face the class. There was a collective gasp from the class as all eyes landed on his right cheekbone.
After briefly scrutinizing the paperwork in her hand and taking a long hard look at the new student, Mrs. Strymer cleared her throat and addressed everyone.
“Class, this is Hawkins Reaver. He’s moved here from Ustoria. Mr. Reaver, I expect there will be no trouble.”
Hawkins didn’t even acknowledge her statement. He stood facing the room, his dark brown, almost coal black eyes, drilling a hole through the wall at the back of the classroom.
“There’s a seat there,” Mrs. Strymer continued, gesturing toward the back of the room near Myria. “Please take it.”
As his eyes swung in her in direction, Myria slapped a hand over her cheekbone and diverted her attention to the ground. Almost two dozen pairs of eyes watched him walk toward the back of the room.
As he took the seat behind her, his heavy sigh blew air into her long silvery locks at the back of her neck. Myria suppressed a shiver and worked to keep her breathing even so she wouldn’t give herself away. She continued to rest her elbow on the desk and kept her right cheek cupped in her hand, hiding the glow of her heart paragon. She wasn’t sure what color hers was right now – probably an embarrassed Persian rose or a scared orchid pink. One thing she did know along with the rest of the class…Hawkins Reaver’s paragon was a cold, hard black.
By lunchtime, the school was awash with all things Hawkins Reaver. Rumors erupted everywhere - from him being a mythical dragon slayer or having been cursed by a witch from the Blacklands - to him having murdered a family member and was now released after being in prison. Myria was quite tired of him and the hubbub – especially since it threw her right in the middle of it. Word had gotten out that he had been seated by her in first period, and second period, and again in third period. (She cursed herself now for always sequestering herself by one or more empty seats.) Everyone had been relentlessly asking her questions about him since then – stopping her in the hall, cornering her in the bathroom. As if she would know! Her daily routine of sliding under the radar was futile in the wake of Hawkins Reaver’s arrival.
Myria threw her books in her cube and decided to forego the cafeteria today. She needed peace and quiet. She snatched her bagged lunch and her water bladder and waved off the questions following her down the hall. She banged through the side door near science lab, taking the stairs two at a time. She couldn’t get away fast enough. She pushed through the exit door on the first floor which dumped her on the far side of the campus, away from the activity near the gym and cafeteria. Taking up a slow jog, she trotted to the stand of trees near the edge of the school property – the trees that were the last slice of civilization before the land tumbled into the wilderness of Bricker Forest.
With a huff, Myria threw her lunch down as she looked back over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t followed. She stepped forward without looking and promptly rammed into a solid barrier. Falling down, Myria slammed down on her backside, with a loud ‘ooof’! A strangled growl had her head snapping up and she found herself peering up into the face of Hawkins Reaver. Without a word, he leaned forward and extended a hand to her.
“What are you doing here?” she let out in a breathy gasp as Myria scrambled backward to sit up on her heels, putting space between herself and his large, hulking frame. He had to be well over six feet tall. She wiped the dirt and bark off of her pants and hands, staring boldly back at him.
Hawkins didn’t answer her. He straightened up and raised one thick eyebrow. He looked at her pointedly. Myria began to squirm under the weight of his stare and felt her paragon warm up. While she’d always loved that hers radiated the beautiful pink spectrum of the Peacekeeper clan, she hated that the paragon always betrayed her innermost feelings. She threw a hand on her cheek, willing the rising color to fade. Hawkins’ eyes followed the path of her hand on her cheek. His lips turned up in a half smirk. After the morning she’d had, this just infuriated her. Myria jumped to her feet.
“You! It’s all your fault!” she yelled.
She paused to open her wooden cube door and grab her books for her first class. She pulled out her water bladder and took a swig from it, her eyes glancing to the mirror on the inside of her cube. In the reflection behind her, she saw Iona Skye walk past in an emerald green sweater dress that set off Iona’s curvy figure and volumes of copper curls. Even in the refractive lighting of the Spar calcite mounted in the ceilings, Iona positively glowed.
Myria sighed as she put the water bag back in her storage cube. She ran a hand through her own hair, but it just fell back straight again against her heart-shaped face. It would never have beautiful curls and color like Iona’s hair. Myria closed her wooden cube door and stepped back into the flow of traffic, her lean frame blending into the masses as she made her way to first period history class.
“Alright class, take out your history books and turn to page 287. This week, we’ll be starting our review of the War between Upper Blacklands and the Western Forest. Historically, this –”
The door opened sharply and banged against the hallway wall, causing Myria to flinch in her chair. Myria felt her pulse skitter when a dark figure strode purposefully into the room and stopped to hand Mrs. Strymer a handful of documents.
The chatter, paper rustling, and chair squeaks came to a halt and a hush fell over the classroom as all eyes fell on the newcomer’s profile. Myria studied him while he was looking at Mrs. Strymer. He was dark in every sense of the word. He had raven black hair that was tousled about and ended just at the collar of his black jacket. He had dark heavy brows and almost olive-tan skin. Myria’s stare traveled the length of him. He was tall and his defined, lean muscles could be discerned in his fitted but worn black jeans. He wore heavy black scuffed boots that were loosely laced. He was beautiful.
Her own silvery-grey eyes skirted back up in time to catch the passing glance of his dark gaze as he began to turn and face the class. There was a collective gasp from the class as all eyes landed on his right cheekbone.
After briefly scrutinizing the paperwork in her hand and taking a long hard look at the new student, Mrs. Strymer cleared her throat and addressed everyone.
“Class, this is Hawkins Reaver. He’s moved here from Ustoria. Mr. Reaver, I expect there will be no trouble.”
Hawkins didn’t even acknowledge her statement. He stood facing the room, his dark brown, almost coal black eyes, drilling a hole through the wall at the back of the classroom.
“There’s a seat there,” Mrs. Strymer continued, gesturing toward the back of the room near Myria. “Please take it.”
As his eyes swung in her in direction, Myria slapped a hand over her cheekbone and diverted her attention to the ground. Almost two dozen pairs of eyes watched him walk toward the back of the room.
As he took the seat behind her, his heavy sigh blew air into her long silvery locks at the back of her neck. Myria suppressed a shiver and worked to keep her breathing even so she wouldn’t give herself away. She continued to rest her elbow on the desk and kept her right cheek cupped in her hand, hiding the glow of her heart paragon. She wasn’t sure what color hers was right now – probably an embarrassed Persian rose or a scared orchid pink. One thing she did know along with the rest of the class…Hawkins Reaver’s paragon was a cold, hard black.
By lunchtime, the school was awash with all things Hawkins Reaver. Rumors erupted everywhere - from him being a mythical dragon slayer or having been cursed by a witch from the Blacklands - to him having murdered a family member and was now released after being in prison. Myria was quite tired of him and the hubbub – especially since it threw her right in the middle of it. Word had gotten out that he had been seated by her in first period, and second period, and again in third period. (She cursed herself now for always sequestering herself by one or more empty seats.) Everyone had been relentlessly asking her questions about him since then – stopping her in the hall, cornering her in the bathroom. As if she would know! Her daily routine of sliding under the radar was futile in the wake of Hawkins Reaver’s arrival.
Myria threw her books in her cube and decided to forego the cafeteria today. She needed peace and quiet. She snatched her bagged lunch and her water bladder and waved off the questions following her down the hall. She banged through the side door near science lab, taking the stairs two at a time. She couldn’t get away fast enough. She pushed through the exit door on the first floor which dumped her on the far side of the campus, away from the activity near the gym and cafeteria. Taking up a slow jog, she trotted to the stand of trees near the edge of the school property – the trees that were the last slice of civilization before the land tumbled into the wilderness of Bricker Forest.
With a huff, Myria threw her lunch down as she looked back over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t followed. She stepped forward without looking and promptly rammed into a solid barrier. Falling down, Myria slammed down on her backside, with a loud ‘ooof’! A strangled growl had her head snapping up and she found herself peering up into the face of Hawkins Reaver. Without a word, he leaned forward and extended a hand to her.
“What are you doing here?” she let out in a breathy gasp as Myria scrambled backward to sit up on her heels, putting space between herself and his large, hulking frame. He had to be well over six feet tall. She wiped the dirt and bark off of her pants and hands, staring boldly back at him.
Hawkins didn’t answer her. He straightened up and raised one thick eyebrow. He looked at her pointedly. Myria began to squirm under the weight of his stare and felt her paragon warm up. While she’d always loved that hers radiated the beautiful pink spectrum of the Peacekeeper clan, she hated that the paragon always betrayed her innermost feelings. She threw a hand on her cheek, willing the rising color to fade. Hawkins’ eyes followed the path of her hand on her cheek. His lips turned up in a half smirk. After the morning she’d had, this just infuriated her. Myria jumped to her feet.
“You! It’s all your fault!” she yelled.
Hawkins
By some bizarre twist of fate, the girl that he had been assigned to sit next to him in every class so far was now trembling with emotion before him. She reminded him of a startled kitten – feisty, with her claws out. More hiss than bite. Her stormy gray eyes had a glimmer of uncertainty or fear, maybe, in them, but her heart paragon pulsed an angry hot pink. He watched her for a few more moments as her breathing evened out, and her anger slipped out of her grasp. The Peacekeepers couldn’t keep their anger long which seemed to be such an incredible weakness to him. He wouldn’t know what to do without his anger.
Her face crumbled a bit as she sat back on the ground, elbows to knees, hiding her face in her hands. He shifted uncomfortably hoping she wasn’t about to cry. Crying girls were…the worst.
“Hey,” he offered as he reached out and touched her elbow.
She didn’t jump. She just peered out between her hands at him. She seemed unafraid afraid of him. That was new.
“You like berries?”
She stared at him, her brows puckering slightly as if she was trying to decipher a strange language. He tried again, but louder.
“Do you like berries?”
“I’m not deaf. I just…” Her response trailed off.
Her eyes lightened a bit. Their color seemed to morph in front of him. The swirling change mesmerized him.
“Come on,” he offered as he took a few strides toward Bricker Forest and then paused to see if she was following. He looked back over his shoulder and saw her standing there, her lips parted in a small ‘o’, her eyes widened in surprise. She hesitated and looked back toward the school.
Hawkins turned back toward the forest edge and continued toward the line of the trees where a faint break in the ground ferns could be discerned. His heart jumped as he heard Myria’s quick small footsteps following behind him. He wound along the barely visible path. The trail gently curved through groves of fir and locust trees and even went under the gigantic roots of a couple of Sitka spruces.
Surprisingly, Myria never uttered a word. She didn’t question where he was taking her. She didn’t protest the distance of their journey. As he continued his trek through the woods, he never felt the need to look back and check on her progress. Without even looking, he knew she was still with him. While he was an expert at stealthily moving through the undergrowth, she managed to lightly crunch the bed of bark and sandy pebbles under her feet with every step. She had to take three or four quick steps to keep pace with every one of his long strides.
After fifteen minutes of walking, Hawkins curved to the right off the path, near the large boulder shaped like a bison. He threw his backpack on the ground and turned around to face her. He was in time to see her stop and gasp as her eyes took in the grove of thimbleberry shrubs behind him. Her mouth opened in shock at the rare find. She dropped her bag to the ground and rushed past him to the bushes.
Hawkins shoved his left hand in his pocket and ran his right hand through his hair, letting it come to rest on the back of his neck as he watched her. She plucked a thimbleberry off the closest shrub and put it in her mouth. She looked back over her shoulder at him and her face lit up in a full smile, her paragon glowing a healthy rose pink. Something in his chest stuttered. Myria pulled a handful of thimbleberries off the shrubs and walked toward him.
“These are amazing! How did you find these, Hawk?”
The way she said his name…well, part of his name, started a spark in his lungs that spread out toward his heart. Myria stepped toward him and reached out to grasp his hand. He leaned back abruptly, tensing, avoiding the contact. She didn’t waiver, didn’t acknowledge the distance he put there. She held out the handful of berries, not attempting to touch him this time. His shoulders relaxed and he took a berry out of her hands and popped it in his mouth. She turned back to raid the bush again.
His right hand made its way up to his chest and tried to rub away the sudden pang he felt. His mind tried to place this feeling. It was something he hadn’t dared to feel in a long time. It took a few minutes of sorting through faint memories before he realized what it was. For the first time in eight years, he didn’t feel alone.
Blackheart is part of a 3 book series. The first book is scheduled to be released in Winter 2017.
Look for it on Amazon!
Look for it on Amazon!
