Title: The Last City
Author: RMGilmour
Genre: Dystopian Romance
Book Blurb:
A battle approaches Threa - a war of wills, one driven to control it, and the other to destroy it.
While immersed in their history, Lydia learns of the overwhelming threat to the planet and its people. And even though she was brought to Threa by her soulmate Jordan, it has come to be her home. And she will not let it go.
Every day, Lydia trains with Lena and Dax, but she doubts she will ever be as strong as they need her to be. She is determined however, to be strong enough, to be ready, should she ever again, be confronted by an enemy.
But what she can’t fight, are Jordan’s memories. With each step that he takes toward the past, Lydia feels him pulling away, closing himself off.
As the war rages, Lydia is determined to stay strong when her faith in Jordan is challenged. But is she strong enough to survive her own fears? Or will his ties to the past sever the unbreakable bond between them?
Excerpt:
"Lena shouldn't have done what she did to you," he finally said, changing the subject.
Taking one more deep breath, I decided to follow his lead, and not dwell upon the Guardian. It wasn't an issue. And I refused to weaken myself with thoughts of any possibility of it returning. I refused to think of it, until it became necessary.
"Do you think that's why she ended training?" I asked him.
"No," he scoffed. "She feels no remorse. Everything she does, is done with specific intent. But she went too far. She shouldn't need to inflict such pain to teach a lesson."
As much as I agreed with him, a part of me felt she was justified, in doing what she did.
"No," I said. "She shouldn't have needed to. But I understand why, and I agree with her motive."
"What could she have possibly said to convince you of that?"
All I could do was look up at him as the memories swept through me once more. I was sure Lena needed me to remember, needed me to keep on remembering. For while awake, I could only ever recall the act of being hurt, but never the painful sensations that always resulted. While I slept however, each stinging, biting, burning memory stirred from its dormant depths to seep through whatever blocks my waking brain had constructed.
The worst of the dreams always seemed to coincide with the level of pain I'd endured during that day's training. But knowing this, never stopped the fear that filled me each night as I slept. And after Lena's brutal lesson, I knew the night would be bad. I lay in Jordan's arms, trying to focus upon the lulling rhythm of his breath, but my mind had other ideas. For in spite of the fact that it was either Lena, or Dax who hurt me while I trained, it wasn't them I was afraid of. It was the ward. He may have been locked away, but it was his presence that haunted me in the darkness.
I closed the fractional gap between my body and Jordan's, snuggling close, refusing to acknowledge the insidious shadows.
Until sleep won out. And I slipped into that subconscious world where painful sensations lie waiting.
But as always, it didn't last long.
You're dreaming, Jordan's voice came to me like waves upon a rippling pond. The sound of him reverberated through me, calming my fears. His face then came into focus, as his warmth surrounded me, his presence protected me, and he held me wrapped within his soul.
And the dream evolved. Every adverse thought, every hostile feeling was soon clouded by him, until the ward existed no more. Until all I could sense was Jordan. And all I could breathe was him.
He kept me close until my pounding heart beat not with fear, but instead with his love. And I knew I was safe.
When I awoke his face was inches from mine, and I watched him while he slept. The details of the dream had begun to fade, but the images, the sounds, and the scent of Jordan remained strong within me. His memory was so vivid, that I had to wonder, as I did most mornings, if he really had come to me in my sleep. Or if I was just getting better at dreaming of him and making the nightmare end.
And as much as I wanted to believe that I was strong enough to save myself, I preferred to think it was him, dreaming with me.
He smiled as I finished my thought, and then leaned forward to kiss me before he'd even opened his eyes.
"How do you know it's me you're kissing?" I asked him. "I could be anyone laying here in your arms."
"I don't need to see you to know you're next to me," he whispered. Then finally, he opened his eyes, capturing mine. This was the best ending to any dream or nightmare – waking up to him, knowing he was real, and feeling how much he loved me.
And the feelings stayed with me all morning, with every smile he sent my way, with every memory, every brush of his hand, with every warming rush of his soul around mine.
Though once we were back in the dome, I felt my heart leave with him, as he and Dax flew to the stadium, while Lena and I stayed behind.
"Why do you do that?" Lena asked.
I had no idea what she meant, and so I gave her a puzzled look in return.
"Create that sense within yourself, that part of you is leaving."
"Because it is," I couldn't help but smile. I had no idea that my emotions were so plainly expressed upon my face.
She scowled at my response.
I was in trouble.
Buy Links:
Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/ya6qwcqn
My Bookstore: https://store.bookbaby.com/book/The-Last-City
Barnes & Noble: https://tinyurl.com/t05wa7dd
What makes your featured book a must-read?
The Last City continues the original and imaginative sci-fi adventure of soulmates, Lydia and Jordan. Every page is crafted to keep you fixated as the story seamlessly winds its way to your heart.
Giveaway–
Enter to win an e-book bundle of all 17 books featured in the Dystopian and Post-Apocalyptic Bookish Event:
Open Internationally.
Runs February 23 – March 2, 2021.
Winner will be drawn on March 3, 2021.
Author Biography:
RM Gilmour was born in Sydney, Australia and currently resides in sunny Florida with her two children and two cats. Writing stories since she was a child, RMGilmour has always enjoyed losing touch with reality, even if for only a short time, through either reading or writing. For many years she has played host to a never-ending stream of characters patiently waiting their turn in the spotlight, several of which refuse to let her fall asleep until that last hand-crafted sentence has been written down, lest it be forgotten. More often than not it is forgotten if not written down... all hail pen and paper!
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