Now it's 1,99 $ for one more day until it goes back to original price.
So if you feel like reading a steamy, time travel NA/YA romance, now it's a good time to buy it.
I have added a synopsis below and another etract below.
On Sunday, I didn’t see Christopher at all as he had been supervising the excavation all day. Besides, I was hiding among the insulating walls of my little house, searching frantically within my dad’s archives in the hopes that I would find the desirable clues that would enable me to put an end to the absurdity I had been going through.
When it got dark, I felt the need for some fresh air. The night was bright, as a huge, orange moon had just ascended the dark mountain slopes toward the starry sky. I opened the door and walked toward the circular garden to which all eight little houses had access. The first blood-red buds on the rosebushes had started to blossom, leaving a faint odour of freshness in the air. The garden promised a culmination of color as the ground, replete with water, had all the bushes and flowers ready to burst into life; I thought of the imminent outbreak of odor and color. Would I still be around?
“Feeling restless?” Christopher’s voice sounded wary, coming from a bench to my left, giving me a start. The anger I felt for him the previous night still hadn’t worn off. My first thought was to find an excuse and go back into my house, but then something stopped me. Something more powerful than my instincts of self-preservation.
“It’s a beautiful night,” I said, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. This was one of the very few moments I’d been alone with him since he’d brought me back to Pylos. I still hadn’t gotten used to the distance he had brought between us. I would never get used to it.
“It makes your heart cry, doesn’t it?” he whispered, gazing at the full moon.
“It’s so bright …” I mumbled, looking for words to finish my statement, startled by the unexpected revelation of his thoughts.
“Ahh, don’t let it deceive you. ‘The moon’s an arrant thief, and her pale fire she snatches from the sun’.”
“Shakespeare? Wow!” I mocked. My mind went back on track; romantic mood subsiding, resentment taking over.
Silence was the response. But I persisted.
“I’ve always wondered about that other side, the dark one.”
Still no response. I presumed he was processing my point, wondering about the hint in it.
“I guess there’s always a dark side to everything, no matter the beauty of it.” Bitterness exposed my intentions as evidently as the full moon above us. I was certain he had grasped the challenge, but the lack of any kind of reaction from his part disappointed me. Christopher kept gazing at the moon, lost in his own thoughts.
Overwhelmed by the sudden fear he might just give up and leave instead of responding to my childish challenge, I made an effort to hold back. What was I doing spoiling the magic of the moment? How many nights had I dreamt of moments like this? And there I was, being grumpy again!
I changed my tune and ignored the growing signs of the looming fit of anger inside me, threatening to break out.
“When I was a little girl, I used to look at the moon through a telescope my dad had bought for me. I was sure I could make out streets on it. I never realized how far it was and I would always ask my dad if we could fly there by plane, like the astronauts had done.”
“It’ll just take a little more time,” he whispered, startling me.
My eyes scanned his loveable face. “That’s funny. That’s exactly what my dad used to say.”
Christopher didn’t say anything for a few minutes. He didn’t move at all, lost in his thoughts, enchanted by the huge, red moon that was staring at us in full splendour, dominating the sky, captivating the eyes, the thoughts, the soul.
It didn’t take long for me to finally realize I was able to contain my anger. My father’s memory always had a calming effect on me. Besides, my love for Christopher still surmounted any other feeling.
For one brief moment, I felt our souls uniting, as we inevitably succumbed to the catalytic lunar spell, as if it would lull our tormented hearts. My eyes turned to him again. He was so close lying on that bench, only a few steps separating us physically. But the real distance between us was vast.
“What’s going on inside your beautiful, little head?" he asked, his eyes still fixed to the sky. Still, his voice was so wrong; the voice of a stranger.
“My thoughts have never been too hard to guess. Usually, I’m an open book.”
“Not to me,” his cold voice remarked. I wasn’t sure if it was his tone or his words that evoked a new wave of anger inside me.
“Okay then. I’ll enlighten you. I was thinking what perplexing character you are. I wonder how frustrating it must feel to lead such a contradictory life.”
“Define contradictory,” he said guardedly.
“You are a romantic dreamer who enjoys the full moon today and a tough League servant the next morning.” I was determined not to mention anything related to our previous affair.
“The one does not exclude the other,” he said calmly.
“No, of course not. Not if you’re suffering from split personality disorder.” I had started to sound bitter. Again.
“Is that how you think of me? That I’m suffering from some…mental disease?” He turned his head to look at me with a fake, broad smile.
“I’m starting to think there must be something in the air you breathe back there or in the food you eat that brainwashes you and makes it easier for the League to manipulate you.”
He chuckled. “You’ve always had a very vivid imagination.”
“Really? How else would you be capable of all this?”
“What do you mean? I’m capable of a lot of things.” He sounded guarded again.
I didn’t even think before going on to say what had been torturing me ever since Denzel had presented me with his farewell gift. The video of Christopher–different hair, unshaved face–shooting a dozen unarmed men and women, even a child, and enjoying it. It was Denzel’s last effort to dissuade me from demanding Christopher’s return to my world. To think that he was trying to warn me or to protect me would be an overstatement. It was foreseeable that sooner or later I would mention that gift to Christopher. What I never expected was that I would do it in a conscious effort to hurt him.
“Christopher, I know. I’ve seen the video. I’ve seen you. Denzel showed me.”
Although he didn’t move at all, I felt how alarmed he was since his body had become instantly tense under the disguise of a cool attitude.
“And what exactly did he show you?”
It was too late to stop now. The only way to get over this was to tell the truth.
“You. In that building with all those poor people. You had longer hair and a beard, but I recognized you. How could you kill all those people, Christopher? That was not collateral damage. It seemed like pure delight for you.”
“How can you be so sure it was me?”
“I saw your face. Denzel thought it was a fitting goodbye present. He wanted to threaten me, I guess, so as not to disobey him. Or maybe he wanted to warn me.”
“Warn you about me,” he said in a voice that revealed how much I had hurt him.
He sat up abruptly. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
He stood up and looked at me with his arresting face, but his true emotions were concealed behind the most nonchalant expression.
“What else do you expect me to say? You’ve already condemned me, denying me the benefit of the doubt, so what’s the use of trying to justify my actions? Again, I’m truly sorry.” His voice was cold and detached again.
“No, Christopher. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for you. For ending up like this. For losing hope and faith in what brought you to me in the first place. For giving up on everything that made you so special.”
He shrugged. “What can I say? Guilty as charged.” He put his hands in his pockets and turned away. “One more reason for you to stay away from me.”
That’s it? I thought. No shouting? No effort to defend himself?
He walked towards his house. His stumping didn’t escape my notice. Underneath his nonchalant composure I knew my arrows had reached their target this time. I knew I had hurt him and that made me feel awful.
It had brought another sleepless night full of torment. And it was my fault.