Sam had tried to attract the attention of her sexy new neighbour, Zach, ever since he'd moved into her building. Little did she realise that he belonged to a select group of people who had the power to create worlds.
Sam finds herself sucked into one of his creations, but it not a world of harmony, it's a prison; a dark and dangerous empire created for the mystic Carrick. Now Sam and Zach must fight their way through four levels of hell before they have any chance of escape.
Sam sat on the small balcony outside her flat. It was actually quite a cool September day, but she still wore only a T-shirt and cut-off jeans. She was attempting an air of lazy contemplation: her feet up on the rails, beer bottle in hand, large sunglasses perched on her sturdy nose. Yet in actuality, her teeth were chattering slightly, and she had goose bumps on her arms. The reason for this attempt at late summer lounging was currently striding along the street. Sam kept her face turned up to worship the sun, but her eyes were firmly affixed upon Zach. She couldn’t help a sigh escaping her lips as she began to mentally undress him. He was at least six foot six, and being five ten herself, she appreciated the extra height. He always wore black trousers and a dark T-shirt covered by a long, black coat. The impression he gave was one of intensity and strength. She could see how broad his shoulders were by his clothing, and she bet there was a fit and toned body underneath. His hair was jet black and swept his shoulders. His eyes were almost as dark, and he seemed to have a constant expression of grim determination upon his strong features.
“Hey there,” she shouted down to the street. “Lovely evening if you fancy popping…” And then she stopped talking as he’d already entered the building, only giving her the most cursory of glances on the way past.
“Arrogant sod,” she muttered. “Not worth the effort.” Yet even as she told herself this, she was rushing through her flat in order to catch him on his way upstairs. She’d just opened her door when his bulky frame stepped onto her landing.
“Hi, sorry, I don’t think you heard me before. I was wondering if you wanted to pop down for a beer?” said Sam while thinking, keep smiling, lean against the doorframe, push your boobs out. A mental list twirled around her brain.
“I heard.”
And he was gone, up the next flight of stairs to his flat. Sam relaxed her coat hanger smile and went back inside.
“Am I really that repulsive?” She strode into her room and looked at the woman frowning back in the full-length mirror. Tall, slim. “I run,” she argued, pulling her T-shirt up and standing sideways to look at her stomach. “Well, sometimes I do, but it’s pretty damn flat.” She turned around. “Nice boobs, juicy bot, not bad for twenty-nine.” Leaning into the mirror, she studied her face. She decided “strong features” best described them, obviously there but all in proportion. Her hair was dark brown, and she must admit as she ran her hands through it, that it tended to do its own thing. “Yeah, definitely his loss,” she muttered, grabbed a sweater, then put the kettle on for a cup of tea.
