Amber wakes up after a crash landing on a hostile planet with a man that shifts into a demon warrior whilst protecting her. She can’t remember him, nor the end of Earth. As their adventure continues, Amber is hurtled into worlds that both stun and defy her imagination as she learns of the terrifying choices she has made to survive.
Amnesia is Book 1 of the ADRSTA Chronicles – a hybrid science fiction / fantasy romance series.
Targeted Age Group:: Adult
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
As a reader I love the Romance Genre and Fantasy/Science Fiction Genre, but I was often disappointed because many books are devoted to quick steamy stories in the former without much of a story line or in the case of a Fantasy book, the Romantic plot line wasn't rich enough for me. I decided to write a series that covers all the elements I love. Fantasy and Science Fiction with a strong world build that incorporated a decent love story. I also included real world issues in a dystopian setting and love stories that included complex characters with real issues encountered today.
The Adrsta Chronicles was a project that took me twenty years, kept under my bed until my adult children pressed me to publish.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Real people inspire me. Some of my characters are a combination of a few people I have met. I love the rise of an underdog so most of my stories show women in particular rising from the ashes to take back the life they truly deserve.
My series deal with subjugated women who take back their own power. For example in Book 1, Esoterics, Soothsayer, I address fundamentalism. In Book 1 of Adrsta Chronicles, I address mental illness that can cause the sufferer to doubt their intentions and choices.
Its important for me that the reader enjoy the journey of the main characters as they discover who they are and become the person they were always meant to be.
The rocking back and forth made her nausea worse at first and she opted to lie still, willing the queasiness that clawed at her stomach to go away. Slowly the sensation ebbed until only the dull ache in her forehead remained. She tried to remember where she was and clenched her teeth when memories flared and faded in her mind. Her cry of despair caught in her throat when she realized she had no idea who or where she was as she embraced the sweet oblivion of sleep.
She woke up to the same strange rocking sensation. Her headache had dulled, but she still did not recall anything. Thoughts were slippery, remaining just out of her reach until one stopped and took root.
She was Amber Jacobs.
Memories appeared briefly in her mind, but they failed to stop and take root, dissipating like tendrils of smoke through grasping hands. She forced herself to remember something… anything… until a sob of terror left her mouth. Lethargy consumed her again, dulling her fears, dragging her into an abyss that was dark but less threatening.
Hours passed before she opened her eyes again.
She was still on her back, the surrounding air warm and musty, the scent foreign and unrecognizable. She tensed, waiting for the vile sensations of nausea to return but was greeted with no dizzy waves, no dry heaving, and for the first time in a long while, no pain.
She tried once again to make sense of her surroundings.
She closed her eyes and opened them again.
Everything around her was still yellow.
Yellow and unsteady, her cocoon continually rocked back and forth. She reached up toward the soft ceiling but her hands fell short and she rested them at her sides, running her fingers over the material beneath her, her mind racing with possibilities.
It was a tent of some kind. But even if she had a host of camping memories, none would include a canvas suspended above the ground that swayed when she moved. She moaned with frustration, lacking the strength to sit up and investigate more.
Sleep would help her heal.
* * *
She woke up in her same yellow rocking prison. Her eyes darted wildly from the ceiling to the walls.
No more sleeping; she needed to stand up and escape. Daylight faded outside, and she had little time left. Her stomach reeled when she realized the desire to escape implied imprisonment.
Am I a prisoner?
Thoughts of kidnap, murder, and mayhem spurred her on as she scrambled about, calling for help as she ran her hands over the floor and the sides of her “tent” in an urgent search for a way out. The structure swayed in response to her sudden movements, but her efforts came up with nothing. Eventually, she sank to her knees and wiped the sweat from her brow. It was so dark she could not see as she blindly tugged and grasped the edges of the tent. She froze when she heard a strange rustle outside. For hours, it had been so quiet, with nothing but the sound of her panting and shouts. But now something or someone was outside.
Instead of elation, panic rose within her as her confine swayed and a blast of cold wind enveloped her, fanning her hair from her cheeks as something or someone gained entry. She shuffled away from the sound, sick with dismay.
“Who is there? Where am I?” she called out into the dark.
Two warm hands grasped her shoulders, and she screamed and flailed wildly until she felt a pinprick in her arm.
“Hush, Amber,” the male stranger said. “You’ll fall asleep now.”
As her consciousness faded, strange gold eyes glinted at her in the dark as she fought against the numbing effect of the drug.
She was still in her prison.
She was Amber Jacobs.
Nothing else came to mind.
The rest of her memories consisted of sleeping and waking in a suspended tent and a foreigner with strange tawny eyes holding her. She touched the soft, thick jacket she wore and the matching dark pants that fit perfectly. She was no longer in her underwear, the stranger from the night before must have dressed her.
What else had he done?
She ran her hands over her body in a panic, but there was no pain, and no unfamiliar invasive sensations. Whoever he was, her captor hadn’t raped her.
Do not go there, Amber! She forced herself to resume her search instead, certain she had overlooked the entrance to her cage. She tugged, kicked and pulled to no avail with nothing but the sound of her erratic breathing and woeful cries for help. No cars, no sighing wind, no birdsong.
When a shadow suddenly appeared outside the canvas, she scrambled backward in fear and her heart beat furiously in her chest. She heard a grunt, and the tent lurched and swung with the arrival of the stranger. A boot much larger than hers came through the opening she had been unable to find. A long leg with a muscular thigh followed until all of him crouched before her.
She was certain she had never seen him before. She would never forget a face like his. She searched her imperfect memory as his strange eyes narrowed and studied her. It had to be the light, or the fact that she was dizzy with fear, for she was certain the color of his eyes changed as he gazed at her.
“Amber?” He knew her name, and his voice held concern.
She grasped hold of the positives. So, this was the stranger that dressed her.
He moved closer, and she reeled backward, cowering in the corner. The desire to escape was still strong. His eyes changed color once again, they glowed and dimmed from honey to gold and then dark brown. She had not imagined it. It was undeniable.
“Your memory is temporarily impaired. The best course of action would be for you to recover it slowly.”
Deep voice, weird accent, still no recognition.
She remained in place, protectively hugging herself.
“I need us to move on from here,” his stance was unthreatening. “But first you need to eat something, to keep up your strength.” He waited for a moment and then reached into his bag and rolled a strange looking fruit toward her.
She watched as it hit her boot. She did not recognize its weird shape or color and even though her stomach rumbled, she remained in the corner, arms wrapped about herself in protection.
He took another from his small, square bag and bit into it encouragingly as he sat down. “Please eat.”
After a few moments of watching him, she began to feel a little stupid about her reactions. He hadn’t jumped her or moved toward her, he appeared to know her and had dressed her without doing anything untoward the night before. She lifted the fruit to her lips, embarrassed by her shaking hand, and took a small bite. She gazed at him as she slowly ate. He was alarmingly large and unrelentingly male. Chiseled and hard. If she was his captive, attempting an escape would be difficult.
Not his face, though. His face was something altogether different from the hard masculinity of his physique. He was strikingly handsome. His features almost feminine… feline… perfectly aligned. He was… beautiful. Thick jet-black hair fell over very broad shoulders and covered his ears as he leaned on one knee and ate his fruit. She expected them to be pointed, for despite his large size he reminded her of an elf.
Lord of the Rings!
She felt elated, but frustration followed when nothing more came to mind.
One memory and it was useless. He stared at her without moving as a hundred questions rose in her mind. She decided to ask the one that would restore her sanity. “You obviously know me?”
“Yes, I know you.” His smile implied more than her heart could handle.
“Who are you?” she berated herself for focusing on his handsome looks instead of the situation at hand.
He could be a psychopath!
His strange eyes narrowed, “I am Wrexel.”
His name meant nothing.
“Where am I?”
He lost his smile. “We were traveling. We… crashed.”
His gaze moved to her forehead, and she lifted her hand instinctively to touch a pronounced bump above her temple.
“We crashed,” she repeated, but it evoked no memory.
“What is this?” She pointed up to the yellow walls of their enclosure.
“I put us up here to protect us from the… animals at night.” He had the strangest accent, though his English was perfect. She continued to frown as he removed something from his bag.
It looked like an iPad!
She remembered her own, some favorite movies and a decent playlist.
Apparently, she liked rock but kept classical music at the top of her playlist so she wouldn’t be judged.
Judged by whom?
Another vague, unhelpful recollection, but at least they were coming back slowly.
She watched as his large hand moved deftly over the screen and craned her neck to see what he was doing. She did not recognize any of the symbols on the tablet.
“What language is that?” she asked.
Helpful! She wanted to respond sarcastically, but the projection of symbols that rose above the monitor silenced her. No iPad she had owned did this. He leaned to the side, and his hair fell back from his temples. Not an elf, she mused.
He set down his hand-held monitor and focused his honey eyes on hers. The gaze was a little intense, and she recoiled.
He frowned at her action. “I’m not going to hurt you, Amber.” He held her gaze. “There’s no need for you to be afraid of me.”
Several questions rose up in her mind but his eyes glowed and changed hue so vividly she ended up with, “Your eyes… change color.”
A look of unease flitted across his face and he lowered his offending eyes as he packed his iPad away. “We need to get going, I can answer more questions later, but right now moving on is more important.”
The canvas opened with one touch.
She was eager to be free of her prison, but her head began to swim when the tent lurched beneath her unsteady feet.
He reached forward, his hand extended to assist her, “Come to me, Amber.”
It wasn’t the first time he had said those words. The horrible memory slammed into her, and she screamed. How could she have forgotten!
It was him!
Her surroundings slowly faded as she sank back down to the soft tarp floor. You have to remember. You have to remember what he has done.
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