Book Info:

DETACHED
Book 1 of The Saphera Nyx Series
by Elicia Hyder
Release Date: 1.26.2021
ISBN-13: 978-1945775260
ASIN: B08M6M49CL

WEBSITE: www.sapheranyx.com

TAGLINE: She robbed her brother of his destiny. Now she’s stuck with a dangerous power she can’t ignore, can’t control, and frighteningly—can’t resist.

BLURB:

I was born on the wrong side of the law—literally delivered on the floor of the state women’s prison.

My mother sees spirits. My father could become one at will. Together, they were among the most dangerous crime couples in history.

I’ve spent the last three decades trying not to live up to my DNA’s potential. Now my father is dead, and his “gift” has wrongly passed to me.

All I want is freedom from my dark family legacy, but my father’s death opened a gateway, unleashing a bloodthirsty enemy. And as much as I hate this new power within me, it might be the only way to save the city I’ve sworn to protect.

Excerpt:

DETACHED
Saphera Nyx Book 1

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With a gasp, I bolted upright in the bathtub. Strangely, the water didn’t slosh or splash.

It didn’t even ripple.

In fact, I could feel its pressure around my legs but not its volume. Its heat but not its texture. My knees moved sluggishly as I drew them toward my chest.

And another set of knees lay dormant beneath the water.

Oh no.

My heart pounded in my chest, drum-line loud to my supersensitive ears. The large bathroom seemed to vibrate with the sound. I covered my head with my arms.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

This was a dream. A nightmare. A byproduct of a head injury.

Absolutely nothing more.

It couldn’t be.

Yes. Of course. You have a head injury, Nyx. That’s all this is. Take a deep breath. Don’t panic . . .

The lifeless legs in the tub were definitely mine. The outside of the left one was covered in patches of silvery-pink scar tissue from my ankle to my hip. And my toes were painted a glittery blue-violet, fresh from the day before.

No, no, no . . .

This couldn’t be real.

“I’ll be dead by morning,” Elias had said in my car just a few short hours before.

If he was dead, his “gift” was tied to his bloodline, and upon his death, it would pass to his firstborn—Ransom.

Ransom.

Not me.

I cradled my head in my trembling hands. It was Ransom’s destiny to carry on the demented family legacy.

Not mine.

My brother wanted it. Needed it. Hell, he even had the word “DETACHED” tattooed across his knuckles. I daresay the gift was the only thing he clung to all those years of our parents being locked up. To him, it was a superpower soon to be in his grasp.

Not to me.

Never to me.

This . . . whatever this was had destroyed any shred of normality us kids were supposed to have. We’d been orphaned. I was born on the floor of a women’s prison, for Christ’s sake, because of this thing. This vile, wicked thing.

The body beneath me flinched, sending tiny waves across the surface of the water.

This can’t be possible.

I needed to wake myself, but how?

I pinched my arm and slapped my cheeks, but nothing happened. In the movies, people always woke up from dreams by either falling or dying.

Falling, I was brave enough to try.

Gripping the sides of the tub, I pushed myself up. There was no headrush, no dizziness, no pain.

Not a good sign at all.

When I stepped out of the tub, I should have been dripping. I wasn’t. Looking down, I expected my body to be transparent, ghostly. To the contrary, it was clear and in focus, unlike the rest of the bathroom. It was also very naked. My tattoos were bright and colorful, and the scars down the length of my entire left side were still visible.

I touched the side of my head. No staples or swelling. Interesting, since they were so fresh and the scars were so old.

On the chance I wasn’t dreaming, I closed my eyes to avoid the mirror. If what Elias had once said about them was true, they could be dangerous. I couldn’t remember exactly why, but the warning had freaked me the hell out as a kid. Something about getting lost inside—or stuck.

With shaking hands, I extended my arms at my sides. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and fell backward—

Mid freefall, I freaked and caught myself, landing hard with my bare ass on the cold tile floor.

It hurt.

I wasn’t dreaming.

I wasn’t hallucinating from a head injury.

I was detached.

My consciousness, my spirit, was free.

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