There are plenty of things I could tell you about my life; plenty of things happened during my years in an inept foster care system. But my real story–when my life really began–started on the day I turned eighteen.
It was the day I discovered who I was. I learned my real name, my dead mother’s identity, and where we come from. These simple things prompted me to pack my meager belongings, hop on a plane, and come home to the dilapidated house in North Carolina that belonged to the mother I never knew.
Even though I have a home and a family for the first time, my thoughts are still burning with unanswered questions. Like why did my mother run away? Why the heck has my skin started to tingle every time it touches the water? And who–or what–is my father really? Because it definitely isn’t human–
And if all that weren’t enough, there’s this guy, Dove. Yeah, he might be a distraction from my true purpose, but when he offers a healing hand to soothe the damage from my past, I’m helpless to resist.
All I ever wanted was to know who I am, but my journey to self-discovery might just lead to the destruction of mankind.
My name is Della Doe Deare and this, well, this is my story.
