Keystone Cover Reveal Hop

Y'all remember my review and giveaway for Cornerstone?


Misty Provencher's sequel, Keystone, is coming out soon, and she's hosting a special cover reveal blog hop party! You can read pages 12-14 below, and go to her blog for a giveaway and links to other blogs that are hosting the rest of the first chapter. Visit them all to read the entire first chapter of Keystone for free!


Chapter 1 – KEYSTONE- Pages 12-14
WARNING: This is an excerpt from Keystone, the second book in the Cornerstone Series.  This excerpt will definitely contain spoilers for the first book.  Please feel welcome to try out the first five chapters of Cornerstone at: http://mistypro.blogspot.com/p/cornerstone-chapter-one.html 
This excerpt is part of a Blog Hop.  In order to read the entire first chapter, please visit all the awesome Blog Hop stops listed here:  http://mistypro.blogspot.com/  to find the other pages! 


Only one arm works right.  I shove myself like a clam across the metal-shaving-bed-sheets.  I have to get to the door or something.  I think I remember a bathroom.  Somewhere. 
His footsteps are louder, closer.  The arm that works isn’t working well at all.  A million arrows of pain shoot up to my brain and I’ve got to hold my breath so I won’t moan.  But I’m sure my legs will work.  The nerves slid through them a million hums ago.  I’m sure they’ll be strong enough to make a getaway.
They have to.  My legs have never let me down before.
Until I get to the edge of the bed, plant my feet, give myself one good heave off the mattress, and do a total belly flop right onto the floor.  
The impact sends sparks of pain blasting in every direction.  A zillion messages of what are you even thinking flood my brain.  I moan. 
The bedroom door swings open and I pry open my eyes a millimeter to make out Garrett’s bare feet, the edges of his jeans, the bones of his toes, as they past my head.
“Trying to make a run for it, Rebel?” He chuckles.  His voice is too loud and too close.  It's perfect.  His hands are gentle, but I still groan as he helps me up.  My skin feels raw, my bones ache. 
I lean against his metal chest once I’m upright and I breath him in.  He doesn’t smell like metal at all.  There is a top note of the fibers in his clothes, the detergent he washed them in, his cologne, and even his soap.  The next is the middle note of his skin, citrus and frost, beach wood and summer.  The last is a base note of something else, almost like thought bubbles in the air, with scents attached to them.  I can’t tell exactly what they are, but they make me feel curious and grateful and nervous and overwhelmingly happy.  Garrett is the scent of everything I love.
I grit my teeth as I lie back down.
“Just hum,” he whispers, dropping down on one knee at my bedside.  “I was so…”
He stops suddenly.  My lips are tight and I realize they’re stretched across my open, clenched teeth.  Everything hurts.  My skin is as paper thin as wet moth wings.  But I’m so glad that, even though I can hardly see him through my eyelashes, I still can, and I hum.
He’s quiet for so long that I finally force my eyes open a crack more to see if he’s really still there.  He is.  He’s crouched beside the bed, his eyes glossy, one finger rubbing his top lip as he stares at me.  He smiles when he sees my eyelashes flutter.  In the candlelight, his eyes are the color of rain. 
I rub my opposite thumb into my palm and feel the ridges of my Impression.  I am an us now.  Ianua, like my mother.  Contego, like Garrett.  I finally feel my lips and smile, even though it feels lumpy.
Garrett leans forward to the edge of the bed so I can see into the deep wells of his retinas.  I want to disappear into them, but the creases at the corners of his eyes draw me back to his smile.  His lips separate and I think of his kiss.  I wonder how much it will hurt.  I wonder if all the tastes and smells and feelings of him will tangle together and erase the pain of any touch to my skin. 
I don’t shut my eyes.  I want to memorize the texture of his skin with my new vision and feel the hollow of his cheek and taste the full tang of the citrus grove on his lips. 
But he doesn’t kiss me.  His mouth hovers over my cheek.  He inhales instead and the air pulls softly across my face.  He holds it a second and then lets it tumble back out across my cheek.  The thin stream dances over my skin like a tiny vapor of lime.  It tingles without any pain at all.  It is a kiss without being one. 
Garrett blows across my cheek again and again, until I relax into a deep sleep.  I search through every dream for my mother, but often find Garrett first. 


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