About Soul Journey 2: Auf Wiedersehen, Mon Amour
Written by AJ Wilde
82 pages / 34000 words
ISBN: 978-1-60370-201-0, 1-60370-201-6
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc
Cop Rick Rathburn continues his past live regression in this second Soul Journeys book! This time Rick is transported to Nazi Germany, in the life of Nikolai, an influential Russian who meets a cabaret dancer living a double life. G is both Gina and Gabriel, and he's the most fascinating man Nik has ever met.
Their relationship survives through unspeakable horrors as G convinces Nik to help with the resistance movement. How much can two men do to help stop the atrocities of war? Rick will find out as he follows Nik and G through to the end.
Review
There are certain words that instantly take us back in time,
some to revisit wonderful memories, others to places that are more ominous,
darker and treacherous.
Hitler. The Third Reich. Nazism. Dachau.
In 1938 Germany there was an evil brewing, a noxious poison that simmered
beneath a blond, blue-eyed Aryan façade. It was a fanaticism that was born,
bred, and nurtured by a sour-faced, brush-mustachioed painter with delusions
of grandeur.
In Hitler's Germany, difference equated to subversion, an offense punishable
by incarceration in one of the notorious Nazi camps. Dachau was one of the
most infamous of these; a place of stark horror and incomprehensible crimes
against humanity.
A.J. Wilde continues the story of Detective Lieutenant Rick Rathburn of the
NYPD, and his search, via past life regression, for the man who haunts his
dreams. Soul Journeys 2 is set against the brutal and unforgiving landscape
of Nazi Germany, where Rick is Nikolai Kazinski, a Russian-born Party
member.
Nikolai knows fear, has lived in its shadow for most of his life, from his
childhood under Stalin's regime to the current wave of hate and suspicion
that is sweeping Germany. He has learned to keep his homosexual lifestyle
carefully hidden, to live quietly, to indulge his tastes only infrequently
and in dark corners.
That changes when he meets Gina. Beautiful, elegant, she is the epitome of
everything Nikolai had ever looked for in a woman – or a man. Gina hides an
incredible secret, one that enthralls Nikolai, and makes her completely
irresistible to him.
But falling in love in Nazi Germany is risky, and for Nikolai and "G" the
stakes are life and death. But when G makes plans to rescue a brother who'd
been incarcerated in Dachau, Nikolai insists on helping in the operation,
and the results are both shocking and brutal.
Wilde takes us on an incredible journey that is packed with historical
detail; one that plunges the reader headfirst into the terrifying world of
Hitler's Germany and barely lets us come up for air. And yet, in the telling
of Nikolai and G's love, Wilde manages to season the horror with sweetness
and give human faces to two people caught in Hitler's web of insanity.
Folks, this is a not-to-be-missed read for anyone who enjoys historical
fiction, hot sex, and a story that will truly touch the heart.
Sample
The place smelled like mold. Wherever he was, it was damp and there was a constant chill in the air. Rick shivered, and strained to see through the thick layers of dark fabric that covered his eyes, but it was still no use; he might just as well be blind. He pulled against the cable-ties that secured his wrists and ankles to the chair, and then yanked on them,grunting as the hard plastic cut into his flesh. He tried to move the chair itself, but it was secured to the floor. He yelled. He swore. He screamed until his throat was hoarse, but his efforts were useless. There was no one to hear him; no one, that is, except his captor.
"You think you're pretty special, don't you Rick?" the deep male voice taunted, velvet-soft, yet edged with hatred. Rick listened closely, trying to match a face to what he was hearing. Was it someone he had helped convict? A drug dealer, maybe? He racked his brain, for there was something so familiar about the voice.
"Detective Lieutenant Richard Rathburn, NYPD," his captor purred, running a finger down Rick's cheek. Rick growled and tried to lunge at him, in vain. "You work out, Rick? That's some serious muscle, very nice. You pride yourself on your body, don't you?"
The sound of a knife being flicked open made Rick flinch. Then the pain hit -- and Rick roared with agony as the sharp edge sliced through his skin and opened a deep gash in his chest. Rick gasped for breath as he felt the warm blood seeping into the fabric of his shirt.
"You … you'll pay for this," Rick rasped. "Whatever it is that you want, you'll never get it."
Rick heard the click of a lighter, then the sound of that first long drag of a cigarette. The aroma of tobacco smoke hit his nostrils, and the familiar craving made his mouth water. It had been a long time since he'd given up -- but evidently not long enough.
"You want?" The voice was seductive, persuasive. The man had power over Rick, and knew it. Was enjoying -- no -- relishing it. Rick felt the filter end of a cigarette at his lips, and almost as an involuntary reflex, opened his mouth. He sucked in the smoke, let it hit the back of his throat, then took it down. It burned and burned on the way to Rick's lungs, but it felt good; so good. Rick sighed as he exhaled, feeling the rush of nicotine to his brain. He knew this was completely the wrong thing to do -- showing vulnerability, allowing his captor to fill his needs -- but right now, he was past caring about protocol.
"Good?" the voice said, gently.
"Uh," Rick grunted. He felt light-headed and wasn't sure if it was the nicotine or the blood loss. He could still feel the slow trickle of warm wetness from his chest down. Hands were on his shirt, slitting the fabric with the same knife that had cut him, stripping it off; then a damp cloth on his chest wiping away the blood, and the sharp sting of a needle.
"Have to stitch you up, Detective," the voice murmured. "Can't have you dying on me." Rick grimaced and gritted his teeth as the needle pushed in and out of his torn flesh. "It's your own fault," his captor muttered, angrily. "You always make me hurt you."
"Why," Rick stammered. "Why are you doing this? Why me? What do you want?" Try as he might to hold them back, tears spilled over Rick's eyelashes and seeped through the blindfold. Rick tried and tried not to sob out loud, but failed. He could feel his captor smiling.
"Oh, Rick," the voice soothed, as he continued to stitch the edges of Rick's wound together, "You really don't remember me, do you?" Rick felt the hands finish off the stitches, then a cool pad was laid over his chest and taped in place.
"No, sorry, I don't," Rick said. "Should I?" Rick felt the atmosphere change and wished he'd chosen his words a little more carefully.
"Yes, you should, because I could kill you right now if I wanted to." The voice was angry again. Bitter. A new thought began to creep into Rick's mind. Someone he'd rejected? A lover? No -- it couldn't be.
"Your department knows what I want in exchange for your freedom. Let's just hope they value your life more than you valued mine." The staccato rip of duct tape, the slicing of a sharp knife.
"No more questions, Ricky, there's a good boy."
Rick drew in a surprised breath as warm lips pressed against his. The kiss was followed immediately by the stifling, impenetrable barrier of duct tape stretched across Rick's mouth and stuck firmly down. The adhesive burned Rick's lips, smelling of old rubber, and he struggled in vain, his cries muffled into useless, vague sounds by the thick tape. Rick grunted and bucked in the chair, desperate to get free, but the sound of the closing door and the shunt of deadbolts on the other side told him it was hopeless. Then the distant clunk of a switch being thrown, and the room was plunged into darkness; the meager light that had been filtering through Rick's blindfold was gone. He was blind, dumb, and bound. Rick tried to scream, but nothing came -- no more voice, no more anything. All was dark and silent in that room, with nothing to sense but pain and that lingering smell of mold.