Book: Touching Smoke, Touching Fire, Touching Embers, Touching Ash, Touching Eternity
Author: Airicka Phoenix
Heroine: Fallon Braeden
Fallon is the heroine of the Touch Series. The first book in the series is Touching Smoke. Fallon is a genetically created weapon designed by a madman on a power trip. All her life, her mother tried to protect her, kept her on the run, away from the darkness lurking to take her back to where she belongs. She almost succeeds until the Garrison's power-wielding crew finds them. Fallon is a an average teenager with a smart mouth and a generous heart. She gets chased by fire-throwing twins, a crazy shape-shifter, a Russian duplicator, and the man that created her, but she stands against them, saving herself and Isaiah.
She's sexy because she doesn't take flack. She's sarcastic and witty and smart and can't keep her mouth shut if her life depended on it (which it does on several occasions). Because of the unique makeup of her DNA, Fallon is beautiful, but I think her sexiness comes from her strength and her ability to remain human when everything is fighting against her to make her otherwise.
Fallon has one. She doesn’t know it, but it will kill her... if she’s caught.
Isaiah. Her soul mate. Made especially for her. Created especially for her. Designed to be everything she would ever need. But loving him will destroy her.
Willing to die for her, kill for her, Isaiah must first save her from the monster chasing them — the man that had created them to annihilate the world.
What would you risk for love?
For two whole heartbeats, no one moved or breathed. All air vanished, seemingly sucked into some unknown chasm like a vacuum. Then it all came rushing back in a full surge of chaos. No one saw Isaiah move, not even me, and I was holding his hand. But one second, he was beside me, trembling with rage, the next he was across the small distance, holding Garrison by the throat.
I think I screamed. I couldn’t be sure. The noise was suddenly deafening all around. Someone fired a gun. It exploded like a rocket inside the tightly crammed space. The stench of gunpowder and blood filled the air. This time I did scream because the scent of that blood was more precious to me than gold.
There was a flash of steel from the corner of my eye. Johnson had pulled his gun. I didn’t think. I reacted. With a single sweep of my hand, I clawed at his throat. A sick, gurgling sound filled my ears, drowning the pounding of my heart and the shouts taking place across from me.
I didn’t stop to see what became of Johnson. I pushed out of my seat and lunged at Bruce — or Lew; it didn’t matter. My hands wrapped around his neck from behind as he tried to pry Isaiah off Garrison. With strength I should never have possessed as an average girl, I yanked his head away from his shoulder, exposing the plane of skin where his vein pulsed. I might have bitten and drank from him. It was a blur, but there was a foul taste in my mouth, the taste of sour milk.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was half-conscious of the limo slamming to a halt. Maybe the driver heard the gun shot or the screams, whichever, we didn’t have much time before the van behind us, carrying Maia, Yuri and several others, caught up to us.
Lew, the only bodyguard still standing — metaphorically speaking — huddled in the corner, swinging his still smoking gun from me to Isaiah, his face a frozen mask of terror. He was the one! He had shot Isaiah. He had to die. I felt no remorse, no guilt, no doubt or hesitation. I was a hungry beast with only one thing on my mind — eliminate the threat! Isaiah had to be protected. There was nothing else.
I leapt without even stopping to consider the possibility of getting shot. I was on him before he could see me coming. That feat alone should have been impossible, especially since I couldn’t even stand upright inside the car. But I had him, my hand around his throat, my canines throbbing. My breathing wheezed in my ears. A low growl escaped my throat just before I struck.