Love Begins in Hell (The Moon Journals: Part 1)

A Young Adult Paranormal RomanceWhen twenty-one-year-old Elana is kidnapped and finds herself in Hell of all places, she discovers something unique in her ancestry, and unbelievable about her destiny. She's a werewolf and she's fallen in love with someone - Dante, the young demon who agrees to help her escape. Excerpt from Love Begins in Hell: "What did you say?" He paused for a moment, digging his long nail into the wood of the table.  "You were very upset." "What did you say?" I repeated. "That's not really important, is it?" "I insist," I replied with my polite tone I used when I wanted it to be known I expected to get what I sought. He chuckled.  His laugh was low and throaty.  "I've seen pomp and circumstance from my father. You don't have to take that tone with me.  There is no need for us to be enemies." I attempted to soften my insistence.  "I'm sorry. Please then." "Don't apologize. Let's keep this on a level playing field.  I'll treat you as an equal, and you treat me as one.  Okay?" His confidence was infectious.  He didn't have the disposition of a demon at all.  My aunt had said they were horrible creatures with no feeling, no remorse, and no compassion for others. "Fair enough," I whispered, only realizing a second later that I had not fully enunciated the words. Clearly this young man had not kidnapped me so why was I in his presence? Did he know who had kidnapped me? Maybe he could lead me to the person? Equals?  Why would he say we were equals?  My father, the Werewolf King, certainly didn't think like that.  Dante's words and actions of kindness and hospitality thoroughly confused me.  As a sign of good faith, I placed the weapons down before me on the bed, noticing in passing the letter 'D' carved into the blade of each knife. "A beauty like no other. So beautiful.  Calm yourself.  Calm yourself, my sweet.  I'm not going to let anyone hurt you." "I'm sorry?  What did you say?" Dante repeated his words for my benefit.  "No demon would know how to practice Wolfen Magic," I replied.  I observed his new nervousness.  His mood had shifted, and he refused to look at me as he continued to scratch at the table. "I'm not a demon.  I'm a warrior."  He glanced at the ceiling, looking again at the lighted design of the dragon.  "I thought we covered that?"  His tone was very gentle even though I saw the muscles in his jaw twitch a few times. "Dante, it's a pleasure to meet you." I curtsied, trying to appear more of a lady than I felt as well as lighten the mood. The intensity of his serious face vanished, and he laughed as he stood up from the table. "My mother is a sorceress, so yes I dabble in the Magics.  And I bet I know more about Wolfen Magic than you do," Dante bragged. "That's probably true. I know nothing about magic.  Only my wolf sense guides me." "Perhaps I can teach you some."  His smile was radiant, confident, and proud.  His demeanor changed frequently. Was there such a thing as a moody demon, I wondered. When he turned and looked directly at me, my heart splintered into a million pieces as I witnessed the expression on his face.  Despite my confusion, I returned a half-heatedly crooked smile in his direction from across the room as my mouth fell open slightly, instantly forgetting why I was there.  I was speechless to do otherwise.  This boy demon was a vision of sheer beauty, and he wanted to help me.  Moreover, he instantly trusted me.  A person he didn't know.  A werewolf.  He trusted me.  Dante seemed like a young man wanting to become a dragon shape-shifter who already understood and wanted to be honest, loyal, and trustworthy.  A person like no other.  His confidence reminded me of my grandfather's steadfast devotion to protecting the pack, something my father had not acquired according to my aunt.