Acclaimed writer Kresley Cole introduces a hot new sequence with this story of a fierce werewolf and a bewitching vampire -- not going soul pals whose ardour will attempt the limits of existence and loss of life. A mythic warrior who'll cease at not anything to own her . . . After enduring years of torture from the vampire horde, Lachlain MacRieve, chief of the Lykae extended family, is enraged to discover the predestined mate he is waited millennia for is a vampire. Or in part one. This Emmaline is a small, airy part Valkyrie/half vampire, who one way or the other starts to assuage the fury burning inside of him. A vampire captured by means of her wildest delusion . . . Sheltered Emmaline Troy eventually units out to discover the reality approximately her deceased mom and dad -- till a strong Lykae claims her as his mate and forces her again to his ancestral Scottish fortress. There, her worry of the Lykae -- and their infamous darkish wants -- ebbs as he starts off a sluggish, depraved seduction to sate her personal darkish cravings. An all-consuming hope . . . but whilst an old evil from her previous resurfaces, will their hope deepen right into a love which may convey a proud warrior to his knees and switch a gradual good looks into the fighter she used to be born to be? comprises an excerpt from Kresley Cole's subsequent romance novel, No leisure for the depraved.
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His claws slice his skin and muscle, but the nerve running the length of his femur is taut as a piano wire. When he even nears it, unimaginable pain stabs up its length and explodes in his upper body, making his vision go black. Too weak. Bleeding too freely. The fire will build again soon. The vampires return periodically. Will he lose her just when he’s found her? “Never,” he grates. He surrenders himself to the beast inside him, the beast that will take its freedom with its teeth, drink water from the gutters, and scavenge refuse to survive.
Would he attack or let her go? Let me go…. A tear slipped down her face, warmth streaking down amidst the drops of rain. The look disappeared. ” he roared, clearly revolted by her pink tears. He turned away as if he couldn’t stand to look upon her, then blindly swatted at her shirt to close it. ” “I-I don’t live here,” she said in a strangled tone, staggered by what had just occurred, and by the fact that he knew what she was. “Take me to where you stay,” he ordered, finally facing her as he stood before her.
The sound shattered the glass lamp and the television and splintered the door to the balcony. His eardrums nearly burst and he leapt back, clamping his hands over his ears to block out the sound. What the bloody hell was that? A scream so high-pitched he didn’t know if humans could hear it. She shot from the bed, and as she yanked her gown into place, she gave him a look of…betrayal? Resignation? She flew to the balcony, ducking through the thick curtains. Dark now, no danger. Let her go. He slammed his head and fists against the wall, mad with lust.