Simon Pulse
February 9, 2010
ISBN-10: 1416974687
ISBN-13: 978-1416974680

» Reviews
» Chapter One

Buy Links:

» Amazon
» Barnes and Noble
» Chapters
» IndieBound
» Powell's

"The door that was always closed is opening, and I am consumed. I don’t know if a full minute goes by that I don’t think of him, that I don’t replay how it felt to have his hand brush mine, his eyes look my way.

And yet he’s hiding, still. He talks as if my feelings for him are in the past, as if they couldn’t possibly be relevant now that I know the truth about him. But I don’t have that kind of power over how I feel. And if he doesn’t know that, he’s blind."

Zin dances with fire in every step, speaks with a honey-sweet voice, and sees with eyes that can peer into your soul. It's no wonder Nicole is madly in love with him. Their friendship is the only thing that saves her from the boredom of school and the turmoil of her family life. But she cannot understand why he keeps her at a distance, even though she can feel his soul reaching out for hers. Zin carries a very old secret. When Nicole uncovers the truth, her love may be the only thing that can save him from it.





"...Nic's narration is believable, honest, and riveting. This darkly compelling read will find a niche with teens who like their fantasy well seasoned with the gritty reality of life, from the glitzy flash of the club scene to the darker, crueler side of survival on the streets."
— School Library Journal

"Amid the glut of supernatural romances, this one is original and engrossing." Kirkus Reviews
"A recent favourite is Raven by Allison van Diepen, a wonderful take on the whole idea of immortals that doesn't go anywhere you'd expect it to."
— Charles De Lint

"It's a thoughtful, well-written, unusually compelling novel -- one that, yes, will appeal to fans of Stephenie Meyer."
— Quill and Quire

"Ms. van Diepen really knows how to craft a story! The tension and passion between Nicole and Zin was amazing -- believable and sustained through the whole book!"
— The Book Vault


Ask me the exact moment I fell in love with Zin, and I’ll tell you it’s the first time I saw him dance.

If you’ve seen him dance, then you understand.

If you haven’t, then trust me—there’s nothing he can’t pull off on the floor.

Ask him why he isn’t dancing backup for some big-name star, and he’ll say he doesn’t do anyone’s choreography but his own, plus he’s happy as hell working the bar at Evermore. It’s the sickest club and ripest breaker battleground in Manhattan. He can’t believe he actually gets paid when he’d be there anyway.

When Zin is working the bar, he’s everywhere at once, just like on the dance floor. He wears black tanks and low baggy pants belted with clunky silver chains. He’s an Arabic kind of beautiful, with short black hair and green eyes. His olive skin is pale from lack of sunlight, since he’s mostly a nocturnal creature. He rarely goes to bed before six a.m., rarely wakes up before two p.m.

You should have seen Zin’s face the first night I showed up to work.

“Carlo hired you? When did this happen?”

“Yesterday. Aren’t you happy?”

“Yeah, of course.” He wraps those lean, muscular arms around me. “Are you sure?”

My knees weaken at his breath against my ear. God, he smells good, like Ivory soap and aftershave. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Don’t you have homework or something?”

“College applications have already gone out. I’ll only be working here on weekends anyway.”

“Your call.” He smiles that leonine smile. “I hope you’re ready for some serious cash.”

Evermore’s home is a converted church. According to Zin, the place was gutted by fire six years ago. The elderly congregation, mainly from nearby Little Italy, couldn’t afford to rebuild, so they joined another several blocks away. Carlo bought the place soon after, and now what was once a sanctuary holds a huge dance floor, velvet lounging areas, and tea-lit alcoves. He also restored the balcony, a perfect place to make out in privacy or spy on the action below. He left the surviving stained-glass windows as is, partially blackened by the fire, giving the place a gothic feel.

It’s just before ten and the club is pretty deserted. DJ Gabriel’s acid jazz echoes a hollow bass. There are two couples here on first dates; I can tell because the guys are trying not to look at my legs. (After a few dates, most guys allow themselves a look.) One of the guys is drinking heavily, and the girl is slapping off his hands. The other date is going well—the girl is in his lap already.

“Battle at midnight. I hope you have the clothes,” Zin says as he’s fixing the drinks.

“I do, but I haven’t asked Carlo if I can take a break then.”

“He’ll let you. He knows the dancing brings in customers.”

“Who’s coming?”

“The Spinheads.”


“Of course.” Battling is the one thing Zin never jokes about.


- top -

back to book index