Today I’m going to introduce you to Deadworld – the first book in the Chronicles of Deadworld series by Debbie Cassidy. There’s an excerpt and a giveaway, but first: a little bit about the book.
Publication date: April 23, 2019
Genres: Adult, Post-Apocalyptic, Urban Fantasy
Humans weren’t meant to live underground, but then artificial intelligences weren’t meant to feed off souls. Shit happens.
Being a Potential is an honor. It qualifies me for the mandatory Run, the chance to become a Guardian and wield one of the only weapons that can disable a Genesis scout. It also means I’ll have to leave the safety of my underground home and go topside, where the possibility of death goes up by eighty percent.
Badges of honor mean nothing if you’re dead.
I’d rather steer clear of any place where soul sucking AI roam. I’d rather stay safe in the Hive and hangout with my wolf-shifter co-worker. I’d rather work on the mechanical heart that keeps the Hive running and spend time with my enigmatic nephilim mentor. Heck, I’d rather be doing anything else. But I’ve made a promise to my best friend, a promise to get her to the finish line in time to win a spot as Guardian. How hard can it be, right? We have a plan. So why do I feel as if something is about to go seriously wrong?
It’s a game. Just a game.
Or is it?
First came Chronicles of Midnight, then came Chronicles of Arcana, and now we have Chronicles of Deadworld. Set a hundred years after the events of its predecessors Deadworld takes you into a Post-Apocalyptic Urban fantasy world with a slow burn Whychoose Romance.
You don’t have to read the previous series, but man, if you do the thrill ride will be unlike any other.
Finn took a gulp of his bone stripper and then winced. “Are you nervous about the Run?”
“More like dreading it.”
“It’s not real,” Finn said as he drained his glass. “You know that, right? The machines are programmed by the council, by Emory himself. The blasts are fake. They hit you and your suit turns red, and you’re out of the game.”
Game. God, he made my fears sound ridiculous. I sipped my glass of water. “Yeah, I know that.”
“Are you sure you don’t want a proper drink?”
“If by proper you mean the stomach burner they serve here, then no.”
He chuckled. “I sometimes forget how human you are.”
I held up my wrist. “Not human enough.”
He gripped my hand gently and then ran his thumb across the sensitive skin at my wrist, sending shivers up my arm.
“I’d be out there with you if I could.” He raised his eyes to meet mine, and my breath stalled. “I like being with you, Echo.”
My mouth was way too dry, and a bone stripper suddenly sounded like just the ticket.
“I like being with you too.” I tried to smile but my mouth trembled.
His gaze dropped to my lips and a soft exhalation came from his. “Echo, will you dance with me?”
The music was low, more for ambience than anything else, and the dancing…Yeah, I knew what that was about. It was an excuse for him to touch me, for us to be physically close, because any other reason, any other way was forbidden, not just by the Lupinata but by Protectorate Council Law itself.
I nodded mutely and allowed him to lead me onto the small space reserved for dancing. A few other couples swayed to the music, and Finn led us into the center of the floor, so we were surrounded by the dancers and cocooned from prying eyes. He tugged me into his arms, and his large hands settled on my waist. I carefully laid my palms on his chest, and his pectorals jumped beneath my fingers. God, he smelled good, like freshly washed linen, like what I’d imagine summer to smell like. I kept my gaze on the open V of his shirt. On the sparse hair that was visible there, dark and silken. What would that feel like against my skin?
Back in his chamber he’d strip off the clothes and wander naked, how the Lupinata preferred to roam, but they covered up when outside the nephilim domain—another council rule.
I was distracting myself with rules and thoughts because he’d pulled me closer and his hand had moved round and dropped to settle on the base of my spine, just above the swell of my buttocks.
I wanted him to keep going, to cup me and pull me closer still. I wanted to feel the length of his body against mine. Instead, I pressed my fingertips into his shirt, depressing his skin and reveling in the way his body tightened in response to my touch. I slid my arms up around his neck and wove my fingers through his hair, soft as silk.
His hand slid lower and flexed slightly, squeezing me, pulling me flush up against him so my breasts were pressed to his chest and our heartbeats mingled. This was as far as it could go, this touching, this feeling. It was a dangerous game and one we played in the guise of innocence, but there was nothing innocent about the throb at the apex of my thighs or the carnal hunger that gnawed at my insides. Nothing innocent about the hardness pressed to my abdomen.
“Echo?” He drew my attention with the longing in his voice.
I lifted my chin, and my cheek brushed the column of his neck. I turned my head slightly and then my lips hovered at his jaw. His grip on me was firm, his arousal a hot brand through his clothes. Heat bloomed between us, liquid and wanton and desperate. I turned my head a fraction more and tasted his skin. It was the briefest of contact, but his body tightened against me, and his chest vibrated in a low, primal rumble that turned my insides to lava.
I wanted him, not just with my body but with my soul, but I could never have him. Dammit, what was I doing?
I pulled away from him, head down on the pretext of gathering my hair up into a knot. “Damn, it’s hot in here, right?”
He stared at me for a long beat, his pupils large, his breath erratic. His hands had curled into fists.
I licked my lips, and he tracked the movement.
Ignoring the churning heat inside, I jerked my head toward the bar. “You want another drink?”
He bridged the gap between us and leaned in so his breath tickled my ear. “No, Echo, I don’t want a drink. I want to fuck you. But seeing as I can’t do that…” He backed up, spun on his heel, and disappeared through the crowd.
Wait, had he just left me?
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Debbie Cassidy lives in England, Bedfordshire, with her three kids and very supportive husband. Coffee and chocolate biscuits are her writing fuels of choice, and she is still working on getting that perfect tower of solitude built in her back garden. Obsessed with building new worlds and reading about them, she spends her spare time daydreaming and conversing with the characters in her head – in a totally non psychotic way of course. She writes Urban Fantasy, Fantasy and Reverse Harem Fantasy. All her books contain plenty of action, romance and twisty plots.
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