title: The Fallen: Genesis (prequel)
series: Deadly Virtues
author: Tillie Cole
release date: May 29, 2019
ARC kindle edition
Synopsis:
The Fallen: Genesis is a prequel novella in The Deadly Virtues Series and MUST
be read before RAPHAEL (DV: book one).
*****
IN THE BEGINNING...
They told them they were evil.
They told them they were possessed by demons.
They told them that darkness ran in their veins.
Holy Innocents Home for Children is a haven for orphaned boys who have nothing and
no one. The priests watch over them, educate them, raise them in the family of the
church.
Except for some.
Seven of the orphans are no ordinary boys. They attract the attention of the priests for
their acts of violence, of bloodlust. The priests realize these boys are drawn to the
darkness.
And the priests are no ordinary priests. They are the Brethren, a secret sect who believe
themselves on a divine mission to seek out evil in the boys in their care. Seek it out, and
then drive it out.
The seven have fallen from God’s grace. And the Brethren will cleanse their blackened
souls...
Dark Contemporary Romance novella. Contains sexual situations, violence, sensitive
and taboo subjects, offensive language and topics some may find triggering.
Recommended for age 18 years and up.
Add to TBR:
Goodreads - http://bit.ly/2YVf3i1
Purchase Links:
Amazon - https://amzn.to/2MnJiMG
iBooks - smarturl.it/GenesisTCiBooks
Nook - http://bit.ly/2QzdV00
Kobo - http://bit.ly/2wq9nQ6
TheFallenGenesis by Author Tillie Cole is the introduction to the very dark and gritty series, DeadlyVirtues, about 7 boys with damaged souls.
Yes, I can truly say that there is a lot of darkness in the story. It's devilishly good, deliciously dark and it moved my emotions to the surface.Even if it's so dark and scary novel with enormous amount of violent, I loved the entire plot which dragged me deeper and deeper into the story. Author had a great and well thought idea and knew how to lead this story in very interesting manner. I have many dark emotional triggers which I try to avoid in books and I was afraid I'd not handle so much evil but I found the plot shockingly interesting and now I want more of this tale.
I won't tell you details about this story except that seven badass heroes coming our way and we're going to hate to love them. Seven boys became a men and each one of them is different and have demons inside their own souls. I already have my fav, who's mysterious story makes me eager to read and I'm impatiently awaiting for it.
ARC kindly provided by author in exchange for an honest review
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↓↓↓Stay longer and find out FREE EXCERPT from The Fallen book below ↓↓↓
🖤 Excerpt 🖤
Joseph watched helplessly as James moved from his place against the far wall toward a boy on a chair on the opposite side of the room. A boy who had slim knives embedded in his arms and legs—a human pin cushion.
Joseph shivered as he recalled his brother’s expression a moment ago as he’d sat and stared at the knives he had sliced into the boy’s flesh. James, the sadistic voyeur of his own work. Joseph’s nervous eyes landed on his brother’s target. The boy was bound with ropes, and a washcloth was stuffed into his mouth, silencing his cries.
Luke.
Fear flooded Joseph’s body. Luke, the boy who had been intent on bullying James since the age of eight. The boy who would spit at James’s feet when they walked by. The boy who call him weird, a goth, a psychopath who rarely spoke. His taunts were endless. Joseph didn’t think the verbal bullets had ever hit their target . . . until he’d found a pad of paper hidden underneath James’s bed. A pad of paper showing in graphic detail what James wanted to do to Luke.
Tie him up.
Cut his flesh.
Exsanguinate his body.
Then drink the blood down.
“They’re just fantasy, right?” Joseph asked James when he returned from detention. Joseph held up the drawings. Page after page of pain and despair and cruelty.
James walked slowly to Joseph and ran his hand down the open page of the pad, delicately running his fingertip over the pencil image of Luke’s slit throat. “It’s a promise,” James said, with no shame in his voice. “Each page is what will happen to Luke.” James finally met his older brother’s eyes. “I’m just waiting for the perfect time.”
From that day on Joseph made sure Luke never got too close to James, for fear of what his younger brother would do. Because Joseph believed every word his brother had said.
The truth was, Joseph knew that someday, if he wasn’t stopped, James would do something so terrible he wouldn’t be able to come back from it.
And Joseph had no idea how to cure James. He didn’t know how to heal his little brother of the wretchedness that had lodged itself into his soul. He prayed for a miracle he knew would never come.
Joseph’s heart pounded as James held up another knife. His brother’s torso was bare, the scars from his frequent self-mutilation clear to see, white roads of flesh mapping the veins that ran under his skin. Veins that carried the blood James so desperately craved; nightly, once safe in their room, he would slice them open and lick the falling drops as they ran in crimson rivulets down his arms.
Joseph thrashed on the bed, fighting the binds James must have placed him in while he slept. “James, listen to me,” Joseph said as he helplessly watched his brother slowly push his blade into Luke’s shoulder. Luke’s chair almost fell as he screamed into the washcloth, the fabric absorbing his cry. But James didn’t even flinch. Joseph’s stomach clenched when the blood started to pour from Luke’s shoulder as James carefully extracted the blade.
Eleven. That’s all James was. Eleven years old, yet thought only of blood . . . worse, even . . . thought only about the consumption of blood.
Joseph shivered as he recalled his brother’s expression a moment ago as he’d sat and stared at the knives he had sliced into the boy’s flesh. James, the sadistic voyeur of his own work. Joseph’s nervous eyes landed on his brother’s target. The boy was bound with ropes, and a washcloth was stuffed into his mouth, silencing his cries.
Luke.
Fear flooded Joseph’s body. Luke, the boy who had been intent on bullying James since the age of eight. The boy who would spit at James’s feet when they walked by. The boy who call him weird, a goth, a psychopath who rarely spoke. His taunts were endless. Joseph didn’t think the verbal bullets had ever hit their target . . . until he’d found a pad of paper hidden underneath James’s bed. A pad of paper showing in graphic detail what James wanted to do to Luke.
Tie him up.
Cut his flesh.
Exsanguinate his body.
Then drink the blood down.
“They’re just fantasy, right?” Joseph asked James when he returned from detention. Joseph held up the drawings. Page after page of pain and despair and cruelty.
James walked slowly to Joseph and ran his hand down the open page of the pad, delicately running his fingertip over the pencil image of Luke’s slit throat. “It’s a promise,” James said, with no shame in his voice. “Each page is what will happen to Luke.” James finally met his older brother’s eyes. “I’m just waiting for the perfect time.”
From that day on Joseph made sure Luke never got too close to James, for fear of what his younger brother would do. Because Joseph believed every word his brother had said.
The truth was, Joseph knew that someday, if he wasn’t stopped, James would do something so terrible he wouldn’t be able to come back from it.
And Joseph had no idea how to cure James. He didn’t know how to heal his little brother of the wretchedness that had lodged itself into his soul. He prayed for a miracle he knew would never come.
Joseph’s heart pounded as James held up another knife. His brother’s torso was bare, the scars from his frequent self-mutilation clear to see, white roads of flesh mapping the veins that ran under his skin. Veins that carried the blood James so desperately craved; nightly, once safe in their room, he would slice them open and lick the falling drops as they ran in crimson rivulets down his arms.
Joseph thrashed on the bed, fighting the binds James must have placed him in while he slept. “James, listen to me,” Joseph said as he helplessly watched his brother slowly push his blade into Luke’s shoulder. Luke’s chair almost fell as he screamed into the washcloth, the fabric absorbing his cry. But James didn’t even flinch. Joseph’s stomach clenched when the blood started to pour from Luke’s shoulder as James carefully extracted the blade.
Eleven. That’s all James was. Eleven years old, yet thought only of blood . . . worse, even . . . thought only about the consumption of blood.
Posty
