{"id":18243,"date":"2017-02-17T02:53:17","date_gmt":"2017-02-17T07:53:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/?p=18243"},"modified":"2017-02-17T02:53:17","modified_gmt":"2017-02-17T07:53:17","slug":"excerpt-black-hearts-sins-duet-1-by-karina-halle","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/?p=18243","title":{"rendered":"Excerpt: Black Hearts (Sins Duet, #1) by Karina Halle"},"content":{"rendered":"

Black Hearts is the first book in the Sins Duet by Karina Halle<\/strong><\/h4>\n

This duet can be read as a standalone but is a spinoff from the The Artists Trilogy<\/a> and Dirty Angels trilogies.\u00a0 The story is set 20 years in the future and follow new characters.
\nYou do NOT need to read TAT or DA to enjoy or understand this duet.<\/h4>\n

Released 19 February 2017<\/strong><\/h4>\n

The follow up book, Dirty Souls, will be released in March 2017<\/h4>\n

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Excerpt<\/strong><\/h4>\n
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The fog is continuing to roll in, bringing a briny mist that you can taste. Only the tops of the bridge remain visible, the orange red seeming to glow against grey skies, while shadows of the structure come and go as the fog moves in.<\/span><\/p>\n

Violet stares in quiet fascination, her dark eyes taking it in. I can see the fog reflected in them, giving her an eerie quality. She appears to be listening but whether it\u2019s the fog horns, the chatter of the fishermen, the lapping waves, or the dull roar of the bridge traffic, I don\u2019t know. Could be something else entirely.<\/span><\/p>\n

I don\u2019t want to break her concentration or bring her back from whatever world she\u2019s in. I just stand beside her and let her be. If anything, it says a lot about her comfort level with me if she lets herself drift away.<\/span><\/p>\n

After a few minutes, she slowly turns to me and blinks. \u201cHow long did you say you were going to be in San Francisco for?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I say carefully. \u201cIt depends if I find what I\u2019m looking for.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what are you looking for?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cA reason to stay.\u201d I hold her gaze with mine. The sea breeze picks up a few strands of her hair, moving them across her face like a black veil. Without thinking, I reach over and brush them away, tucking them behind her ear.<\/span><\/p>\n

I could kiss her. I should kiss her. The feel of her skin against my fingers ignites a million torches inside.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then she looks away, uncomfortable, the silence between us changing.<\/span><\/p>\n

I steer the subject onto her. \u201cYou said your mother is a famous photographer. Does she have a studio?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She lets out a soft sigh, her eyes back on the bridge. \u201cYeah. In the mission district.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you don\u2019t want the same for yourself?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She rubs her lips together in thought before looking down at her hands that hang over the side of the railing. \u201cAs I said, I don\u2019t know what I want. I\u2019m not sure I feel comfortable with the idea of having a studio. My mom does portraits of people. That\u2019s not what I like to shoot.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot a people person?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

A wry smile cracks her lips. \u201cNo. Not really. It\u2019s too\u2026intimate. My mom is great at it because people feel comfortable with her. She can\u2026I don\u2019t know, manipulate their feelings.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Interesting. Very interesting.<\/span><\/p>\n

People like my father.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo they end up exposing pieces of themselves that they don\u2019t see. I guess I have the same intuition as her but the one on one is too much for me. I prefer to work with nature. With this.\u201d She gestures to the fog. \u201cNo one else really understands how beautiful this is to me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I look back at the fog, moving faster now. I wouldn\u2019t call it beautiful. Moody. Dark, maybe. If anything, her beauty stands out more because of the bleakness around her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMy goal is to take photos that show how I see the world. All the beauty in it. The world is such an ugly and beautiful place, horrible and hopeful. I want to show the light in all the dark places.\u201d She pauses and gives me a sheepish look. \u201cSorry. I know that must have sounded hella pretentious.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I slowly shake my head because she sounds anything but that. She sounds real. She sounds like something I want to shake loose from her, to let free and run wild.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not pretentious,\u201d I tell her, my voice low. \u201cNot even close.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not what I hear.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you hear?\u201d I move in closer to her, the distance between us just a few inches. She doesn\u2019t back up. \u201cWhat does the world tell you you are?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I watch her swallow, take a moment. \u201cOh, you know. I\u2019m too self-absorbed. Narcissistic. Pretentious. I live too much in my head, I\u2019m too anti-social, too distant. I feel too much, care too much. My mother has always chided me for being too sensitive and then I was diagnosed with having hyper-sensitivity, so it turns out she was right. I am<\/i> too sensitive. About everything. And there\u2019s not a single thing I can do about it except know that when I experience reality, it\u2019s not what everyone else experiences. For better or for worse.\u201d She sighs. \u201cMainly for worse.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I feel like this is something she doesn\u2019t unload on many people. My instincts about her were right. She\u2019s fragile but not weak, too much a part of the world and too much removed from it. A contradiction.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d she says, shooting me a glance. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to blab away like that. I know you probably think I\u2019m crazy now. Hell, I think I\u2019m crazy half the time. I really wish I could just be like everyone else. To just\u2026shut it all off.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not crazy,\u201d I tell her. \u201cI\u2019m just understanding you better.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Her mouth quirks up into a dry smile. \u201cI\u2019m surprised you understand me at all. We\u2019ve only just met.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTrue,\u201d I tell her as I reach out and run my fingers along her jaw, tipping her chin up. \u201cBut I\u2019m sure you of all people would know that sometimes you can connect with someone in ways you didn\u2019t think you could. Or should.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She barely nods, her eyes focused on mine, anticipation on her brow. I\u2019m met with the overwhelming desire to protect and shield her which is extremely inconvenient, if not unwelcome, given the circumstances. One minute I need to fuck her, the next I need to protect her, and in the end, what I really need is to do the job I set out to do.<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Copyright Karina Halle 2017<\/div>\n

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About Karina Halle<\/b>
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Hit her up on Instagram at @authorHalle<\/a>, on Twitter at @MetalBlonde<\/a> and on Facebook<\/a>, and follow her on Amazon<\/a>. You can also \u00a0sign up for the newsletter<\/a> for news, excerpts, previews, private book signing sales and more.<\/div>\n
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Check out our Karina Halle Author Spotlight<\/a> for some truly awesome reads.<\/strong><\/h4>\n
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