Forbidden Secrets Revealed
The Forbidden Trilogy, an award-winning YA paranormal romantic thriller by Kimberly Kinrade, is now complete with the launch of the third and final book, Forbidden Life.
Described as "thrilling, dark and deeply romantic" (Refracted Light YA Reviews) with a "plot that is very ALIAS and DARK ANGEL-like with X-MEN as its backdrop" (Sour Skittles Book Blog), the Forbidden Trilogy tells the story of a group of paranormal teens raised in a secret school and rented out as spies to the rich.
When Sam, a girl who reads minds, meets Drake, a boy who controls minds, they discover a deep secret that could destroy everything and everyone they love. Together, they must escape and save their friends, before it's too late.
In Forbidden Life, all the secrets of this corrupt organization are revealed, with more page-turning twists and nail-biting mystery than ever before.
This series "has romance, mystery, action and suspense that will keep you hooked from beginning till end." ~Nickle Love
About Forbidden Life
The road to redemption begins in darkness.
A sinister force waits for them in darkness, ready to devour their powers and take their lives.
Sam's baby is the key to a lock that must never be opened. To keep her child safe, she will do anything.
Drake might have found a way to get his powers back and save his family, but at what cost?
Luke and Lucy uncover secrets in an organization they thought they could trust, and the lives of all Rent-A-Kid children are at stake.
In this last Forbidden Trilogy installment, the secrets to Rent-A-Kid will finally be revealed.
**I am currently reading the first book in this trilogy (Forbidden Mind) and am enjoying it immensely. Keep your eyes open for reviews on the books as I finish them.**
Read an excerpt of Forbidden Life
Drake slugged another mouthful of cheap vodka and waited for the burn to dull his pain. The abandoned apartment building he'd holed-up in stank like shit and piss and vomit, but he didn't care. He sat on an old mattress with his back against the wall and watched the void where a door had once hung.
Every second of existence tore at him until even alcohol couldn't bury the feelings. The place in his chest where his powers had once lived now felt empty, like the core of a rotten apple. Even when Dr. Pana had tied him to a hospital bed and drained him of his powers, he hadn't felt this helpless. There, he'd known it would end. His powers hadn't been destroyed, just blocked. He hadn't felt empty, just useless.
He'd been so naive to think it couldn't have gotten any worse.
Sam was out there somewhere, fighting to keep their baby safe while her father still hunted her. And what am I doing, loser that I am? Running away. What good am I without my powers? I couldn't keep them safe, so they were better off without me.
The lies he told himself did nothing to silence the guilt.
When he'd drained the last drop of vodka from his bottle, he smashed it against the wall, and left his hiding spot to search for more. He counted the money he had left: five dollars and some change. What the hell could he buy with five bucks? Nothing strong enough to get the job done, that was for sure.
The moon hung heavy in the sky as Drake walked the empty streets. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the sun. It seemed a lifetime ago. Memories of warm rays and the splash of cold salt water haunted him. Vampires lived like this for centuries, outcasts relegated to the shadows of life. Drake finally understood why these beings fascinated so many people. Their plight gave form to the empty death that lived inside him.
A homeless man's cough brought him back to the present. The man sat against a garbage dumpster, tucked under a newspaper blanket. Drake didn't care about the smell or the trash; he only noticed the paper bag-wrapped bottle in the man's hands.
He mustered as much authority as he could now that he'd lost his powers of mind control. "I'll give you five bucks for that bottle."
The man looked up at Drake and back down at the bottle. His face looked like an ancient map that had been written on so many times the lines all blurred together. He smacked his lips, took another swig and then held the bottle out with a cackle.
Before Drake could take it, the man yanked it back and rubbed his fingers together in the universal sign for money.
Drake sighed and pulled out the last of his cash.
They traded at the same time, and the man cackled again as he stuck the money into some hidden compartment in his clothes.
The bottle felt light. Too light. Drake tilted it to his lips, but only a drop of amber liquid fell into his mouth. Rage fed him as he threw the bottle to the right of the man's head.
The man cried out as jagged bits of glass flew into his face. Drake lifted his fist to punch him, but the man held up his arms and squealed. Fear filled his eyes, and his lips smacked together. When his mouth opened, Drake saw why the man didn't speak.
He had no tongue.
Drake's anger drained out of him in a flash, and he slumped against the trash bin. Could he really beat a helpless man because he'd stolen five dollars?
The man pulled out the money and gestured for Drake to take it back, but Drake ignored him and ran down the street and around a corner.
He pushed his body to run as fast and as hard as he could. Lack of food and too much alcohol had made him slow—weak—but he didn't stop. His lungs burned, his muscles weakened to the point of collapse, but still he ran.
He turned down an alley and stopped. Three men beat a scrawny blond-haired boy to the ground.
The biggest man, inked up like a gangsta and wearing pants too big for him, punched the kid in the face and screamed, "You better give me those vials, you piss-ant little shit, or I'll beat you until you can't walk. That drug is worth more than your life, so hand it over."
His two lackeys circled the boy, kicking him and egging on their leader.
The boy cried and curled into a ball. He couldn’t have been older than twelve. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have anything."
Another punch. "Yo, my homey here saw you. So don't be lying to us. We got to account for all those vials, and you don't even know what you got messed up in. Those drugs, they seriously mess people up—like, superpowers and shit. I'm not letting some piece of shit like you stop me from doing my job. Hand 'em over."
The boy couldn't take it much longer, but Drake wasn't a superhero anymore. Still, this drug had him curious. Could there be a drug that brought out para-powers?
He charged in, pushing back the three gangsters and pulling the kid out of the way. "Run!"
The fight was a blur. Drake had neither super strength nor mind control. His basic skill and strength bought him a few minutes, but in the end the street thugs overwhelmed him.
After too many blows to count, they left him lying in the alley, bleeding and aching with broken ribs. Drake coughed, and blood spewed out of his mouth. Maybe worse than just broken ribs.
He pulled himself to the wall and tried to sit up, but the pain stopped him. Every move seemed to cause a new break or tear in his now-fragile body. Before he could make it to the wall, a new kind of darkness wrapped around him, and he faded into nothing.