Excerpt: 'Wildalone' by Krassi Zourkova

Krassi Zourkova shares an excerpt from her debut release, Wildalone.

First, here's the blurb about Wildalone (courtesy of William Morrow):

In this enchanting and darkly imaginative debut novel full of myth, magic, romance, and mystery, a Princeton freshman is drawn into a love triangle with two enigmatic brothers, and discovers terrifying secrets about her family and herself—a bewitching blend of Twilight, The Secret History, Jane Eyre, and A Discovery of Witches.

Arriving at Princeton for her freshman year, Thea Slavin finds herself alone, a stranger in a strange land. Away from her family and her Eastern European homeland for the first time, she struggles to adapt to unfamiliar American ways and the challenges of college life—including an enigmatic young man whose brooding good looks and murky past intrigue her. Falling into a romantic entanglement with Rhys and his equally handsome and mysterious brother, Jake, soon draws Thea into a sensual mythic underworld as irresistible as it is dangerous.

In this shadow world that seems to mimic Greek mythology and the Bulgarian legends of the Samodivi or "wildalones"—forest witches who beguile and entrap men—she will discover a shocking secret that threatens everything she holds dear. And when the terrifying truth about her own family is revealed, it will transform her forever . . . if she falls under its spell.

Mesmerizing and addictive, Wildalone is a thrilling blend of the modern and the fantastic. Krassi Zourkova creates an atmospheric world filled with rich characters as fascinating and compelling as those of Diana Gabaldon, Deborah Harkness, and Stephenie Meyer.

Krassi sets up her excerpt ...

Krassi: When I set out to write this book, before I even had a plot, I knew three things for sure: First, I wanted to experiment with a crazy mix of genres — romance, mystery, paranormal, literary, you name it — and somehow work them into a coherent whole. Second, the core of the story had to be about love. Doomed love, my hunch was telling me. And third, a love triangle worth its salt meant I had to be ready to torture my characters to the max.

Enter the Estlin brothers. Bound by fierce loyalty to each other, yet madly in love with the same girl. And, to make her life hell (the kind of hell I wish on everyone), they happen to be like halves of a perfect man: While Rhys is the driven alpha who gets the girl first, Jake is the sensitive, enigmatic poet. Or is he?

The following excerpt takes place on Halloween, when everyone wears a mask but one person actually does have a lot to hide …

The excerpt ...

The "best part" turned out to be a posh party—masquerade ball—in a loft overlooking the Boston harbor. Everyone had to put on a mask at the door and was then ushered through a pair of heavy black curtains.

"May I have the password?" A male Grim Reaper nodded at us ominously from behind a velvet rope.

I glanced at Rhys, half expecting the magic word to be, once again, Estlin. But he smiled, lifted the rope, and let me go in first.

"Don't worry, the guy is just kidding. They should have opted for a Kubrick theme but didn't."

"They" were probably the undisclosed hosts who owned the venue. It was enormous. A massive cube of windows with an internal suspended bridge, giving you the illusion that a gondola was about to glide across the floor and whisk you on a tour of a steel-and-glass version of Venice.

We took drinks from the bar and walked over to the nearest window. Rhys had wanted to show me the harbor, but something behind me distracted him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, false alarm. For a moment, I thought I saw Jake."

My hand became unsteady and I swished my glass, to hide the real reason for the sound of ice clinking. "What would Jake be doing here?"

"He's involved with the charity organizing this. Comes every year, yet this time backed out at the last minute."

"Why?"

"No idea. Something happened to him in New York. But whenever I ask, he blanks out like a dead man."

I suspected the reason for Jake's absence: he had probably found out that Rhys and I were coming.

"It has to be a woman, Thea. Just has to be. Although I can't imagine why anyone would break Jake's heart. How the hell does it get any better than my brother?"

I took a sip from my vodka tonic. Jake's heart—broken. I no longer had to guess, from hints or errant words or piano scores he happened to leave behind. Still, knowing only made me feel worse. What if I had made the biggest mistake of my life? Losing the guy who could have been my soul mate, while I let his brother parade me in front of him like a trophy doll. Dinners at their house. Vacations on the Vineyard. Even here, in Boston. At Jake's own party.

When a group of people accosted Rhys to hear his take on some recent scandal involving the charity, I went to get another drink. The bar was crowded. Noise. Dense heat of bodies. Bottles and glasses flying about, from the hands of bartenders who rushed as if a fast-forward button had been jammed to a permanent "on."

Suddenly, a hand placed an empty glass next to me.

I recognized the long fingers instantly—their shape, the slow shift through the air as they made their way from the glass, down to the edge of the bar, and rested on the marble. I was afraid to move. Jake. Standing behind me, so close I could probably feel his chest if I leaned back an inch—

Then he was gone. I turned around but there was no one, only a costumed crowd of strangers.

Later that night, I saw him once more. Like everybody else, he wore a mask. Yet I knew it was him, the way he leaned against the wall—lost in shadow, arms folded over his chest, head tilted back, observing. I felt his eyes across the room. This time they watched his brother dance with me, claim me in the music as he did in everything else: with his hands, with his lips, with every part of his unrelenting body. From their distant place in the dark, they looked on as Rhys bent me back and kissed me—long and hard, as if nothing was to be left of me after that kiss—and they took it all in, quietly, like poison they had come to seek on purpose.

I wanted to run over to him. Tell him that I knew everything, how he felt. That I felt the same way and at this point the only solution would be to talk it over, the three of us, and decide who stays and who leaves. But once again, he decided on his own. Took off his mask, then turned around and left.

You can connect with Krassi on Twitter (@zourkova).