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Stay Wicked
Series: Alpha
Genre:Historical Paranormal
Length: Novella
Doyle and Livana were childhood friends who found themselves torn apart by fate. When Doyle returns to town ten years later, the villagers whisper about his frightening black moods.

Livana has waited for Doyle for more than a decade. But has time changed the man she once loved into a monster even she cannot reclaim?

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Reviews

"Though a short read, this is jam packed with story, leaving you feeling like you read a full-length novel. Hot and spicy, gentle and sweet are what makes Wicked a surefire hit!"
- Connie, A Romance Review

"I loved this book, it has everything romance, love, and good and evil."
- Lisa Wine, theromancestudio

Behind the Book

This is my one and only Gothic-inspired paranormal erotic romance. I liked the idea of the hero with the mysterious past arriving home again—then I had to come up with a good enough reason why he hadn’t arrived years ago to get his destined love.


Excerpt from Wicked

© Copyright Treva Harte, 2001

PROLOGUE

“I’m going away.” Doyle looked at her, his blonde hair blowing into his face.

His hair looked even more tousled and unkempt than usual.

“Away? Where?” Livana was startled.

“To school.” His jaw set.

Livana knew, without him saying anything, that he’d begged not to go to school. And she knew, without him saying anything, just why. Doyle was too different, too bookish, too…crippled. She didn’t mind his hesitating walk but boys would. Boys his age would laugh and torment him. She’d heard what was said about him in town.

“But why? Why can’t you stay here?”

He looked away. “With mother dead, everything’s changed,” he said softly.

“But you’ll be back for the holidays, Doyle,” she returned in a firm voice.

“No.” He shook his head and sighed. “Father is shutting up the house and going away. Back West, I think. I’m not to come along.”

Her eyes softened. “Doyle, don’t be bitter.”

“Don’t worry. That’s not important. Just don’t expect me for the holidays. I don’t know where I’ll be. Not there. Not here. I wish I was the right age to do what I want.”

An ache spread from her throat to her heart. Livana didn’t like to think of her world without him in it. No one else was her friend. No one else wanted to be. They thought she was as odd as he was.

“Very well. When you’re old enough you can come back. I’ll be here.” She kept her voice steady.

“Will you, Livvy? That’s a long time. Things happen.” Doyle’s eyes were watchful and tired. And old.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I’m afraid to believe anyone anymore. And you’re younger than I. You can’t promise anything. You don’t even know what to promise.”

“What do you want me to promise?”

Doyle wanted something, something that was just beyond her awareness. Something…important.

“I shouldn’t. And you can’t.” His eyes, very blue and direct, stared into hers.

“But what?” Livvy pressed, scared but needing to know.

He took out a penknife without saying anything, then pricked his finger. She smiled. They’d done this before, long ago, when Doyle first came to town and they’d met. She’d been afraid to do this back then. Now she held out her finger unhesitatingly and his knife made the tiniest of cuts in it. They pressed their fingers together. He looked down at her hand and, suddenly, he bent and sucked the cut finger. She felt his warm tongue stroke against her skin and shivered. He straightened, still holding her hand.

“You’re inside me, Liv. I’m inside you,” he whispered. “I’ll come back. I swear. And then I’ll see what you can promise me.”

He dropped her hand and left without looking back...

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