Sneak Peek Sunday Blog Hop
This week you have the chance to take a sneak peek at my WIP, the third book in The Ruthin Trilogy, The Ruthin Pact.
Bliss felt different. She could see and hear better than ever. Her sense of smell was almost debilitating. Some odors sickened her from afar they were so out of tune with what she now thought of as her heightened senses.
She hadn’t told Devon any of this, and right then as she began to walk down the path towards the woods at the end of their garden she leapt over a big patch of mud. It had rained heavily in the night and the whole area was still drenched. Huge muddy puddles littered the field and path to the woods.
Bliss leapt, and to her amazement found herself at least ten feet away from the perimeter of the mud patch. She landed softly and almost in slow motion turned to see where she had begun the leap. Her eyes widened as she realized just how far she had travelled in that single leap, and without much effort too, she told herself.
She looked around to check if anyone might have seen her. There was no one around. Bliss sighed wondering what else she could now do that was previously not within her abilities. She’d been taking the drink prepared for her by Tara and Balthazar for only six days. Two days ago, the changes had become apparent to her. Prior to that, she had been her normal self she reasoned. The changes were sudden and she decided, unwelcome, because she didn’t know what might happen next. She continued walking towards the woods intending to walk all the way through them. She’d discovered it was a short cut to Ffion’s place.
Bliss was going to discuss the latest happenings regarding Elise and Drew with Ffion. It had been a fraught few days.
The day after Drew and Elise secretly made their getaway to the coast, Seth, Balthazar, and Devon went to Drew’s house. They had the plan to immobilize Drew, grab back Elise, and then suspend Drew’s life force. Devon was relieved when no one was there. Thankfully, Maryanne had left only twenty minutes earlier, and the place was clean as a whistle, especially the small, French desk drawer in the front drawing room, where there had been quite a wad of money.