He's the devil. And she's his wicked game.
Halen:
They say eyes are the windows to the soul—but when he looks at me through hues of slate-green and flaring blue embers, I’m terrified of what’s watching me from behind his clashing gaze, something primal and feverish that threatens to melt me like fire in ice.
I fear falling into Kallum Locke’s pitch-black soul.
But after I’m called to a crime scene to investigate the most gruesome act of violence to descend on the legendary town of Hollow’s Row, I have no choice but to turn to Kallum, to the man I had locked away in an asylum for the criminally insane.
He’s the leading expert on all things Nietzsche and occult. And now, to get answers, I’m forced to make a deal with the devil himself.
Kallum:
Really, eyes are the windows to the soul? Then I wonder what little Halen St. James thinks of all the cryptic eyes watching her in the killing fields… I wonder if the hairs on her delicate nape lifted away, if a thrilling shiver raced over her soft skin. She’s desperate for the answer, and she’ll do anything to uncover it—even make a deal with me, dangling freedom like bait on a hook.
But she’s far more tempting to sink my teeth into than any lure.
And the pain will taste twice as sweet.
Trisha Wolfe
