Cover Reveal: Watcher (Book #1 of The Chosen) by Roh Morgon
WATCHER: BOOK I OF THE CHOSEN BY ROH MORGON
GENRE: Romantic Urban Fantasy
RELEASE DATE: October 7th 2017
Predator. Killer. Monster.
The words echo in Sunny Martin’s head each time she looks in the mirror. Since the night she was torn from her car and drained of her blood, only one fear rivals that of the hungry beast within her - the fear of exposure.
Her lonely struggle to survive on the edge of the human world leads Sunny to the mountain peaks of Colorado where she meets Nicolas, the enigmatic leader of a hidden society.
Their passion, tainted by betrayal, violence, and murder, reveals a shocking truth behind Sunny's savage nature, and drives her toward an agonizing Choice between her heart and the last remnant of her human soul.
I watch my daughter, the sunlight dancing across her long dark hair, cradle her swollen belly as she kneels to place the flowers on my empty grave. Pink carnations this time . . . last year was red roses; the year before, golden mums.
Her shoulders quake with her sobs and, swallowing, I fight to stifle my own. Her lips move as she whispers to the flower-strewn ground, but I’m too far away to hear her precious words. Throat tight, I struggle to remain still, hidden by the large eucalyptus at the other end of the cemetery.
She caresses my name etched into the grey granite, tracing the letters one by one before wiping the tears from her cheeks. Her fingers touch her lips, then the top of the cold, hard stone.
My own fingers clamp against my mouth and smother the impulse to cry out to her.
She looks so much like me—the me I used to be. Tall, willowy, she’s become a woman since I disappeared five years ago and soon, to my surprise, will become a mother. The inferno of emotions ignited by her pregnancy threatens to devour me and I do not think I can remain quiet much longer. For once, I hope she will end her visit soon and leave.
She stands and turns toward her car. A breath of summer wind lifts a few dark strands of her hair and they float for a moment, waving goodbye.
Her scent reaches out to me and triggers memories of our brief life together. Seventeen years was not enough—not enough time to share with her, to hold her and teach her and tell her how much I love her. In a flash of anger, I curse the evil creature that stole me away, leaving my daughter to finish growing up alone, and leaving me . . . leaving me no longer human.
My chest heaving, I watch her drive away, then step between the markers and cross the lawn to my grave. Once again, I read the inscription on my headstone:
Beloved Mother and Best Friend
October 10, 1969 –
Trembling, I rest my fingers where hers last touched, press them softly against my lips, and whisper, “I love you, Andrea.”
I step out of the downtown boutique feeling quite satisfied with my shopping adventure. In addition to heavy curtains, I’ve found a few interesting odds and ends to add some décor to the house. I pause to look up at the clouds that have gathered overhead, grateful for their cover.
And then I feel it.
Something, or someone, is watching me. My gut clenches and an electric charge shoots through me, making my skin crawl as every hair on my body stands up. Alarmed, I step to the curb and study the people and cars nearby, trying to find the source of the eerie attention.
And then I see him.
He is standing directly across the street, focusing intently on me.
As I peer back at the tall figure in the long, tailored coat, at his striking looks, his stillness, his pale skin, everything in me slams to a stop.
He is like me. He is . . . just . . . like . . . me.
I freeze, unsure of what to do. Since I was reborn to this life, I have always been alone. I’ve never encountered one of my kind—except the one who brutally ripped away my humanity and left me for dead.
One of my kind. The thought chills me as I fight the rising panic. And while my mind races, he gives me a small smile, a slight nod, and is gone. Just vanishes, too fast for even my eyes.
My insides churn and I stand locked to the sidewalk, unable to move, my gaze pinned to the spot in which he’d stood. People flow around me, like water in a river, until I get bumped. I snarl and nearly lash out, but catch myself, and with a final anxious look across the street, head to my car.
Roh Morgon dreams up her dark tales for young adult and adult readers while driving the back roads of California’s Sierra Nevada foothills. She’s best known for her vampire series The Chosen which includes Watcher: Book I of The Chosen; the 1840s historical horror novella The Last Trace; and the novella The Games Monsters Play. Her next novel in the series, Runner: Book II of The Chosen, will be released October 25.