The Dark City Chronicles ⁓ Book Three
The apocalypse looms ever closer! Steamy romance, heart-stopping action, seductive vampires, magic that defies nature, sprinkles of dark-humor, and, as always, the everlasting bonds of friendship.
Hannah's strug...
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There was a conversation happening in the yard. He could hear muffled voices through the small window near the bed, with its blinds drawn shut. He didn't listen. He didn't care to. They were probably deciding he was a lost cause. It would be time for them to move forward and begin their fight to struggle in an unwinnable war.
He wondered if they'd keep his plan? He'd thought it out meticulously.
Would Alexander meet the Rosewood vampires himself? Would they kidnap Darren Sinclair's son? Or would they use the agent in the basement to draw Azrael out of hiding and try to kill him before winter?
All options could be fruitful but risky.
Then Kiernan stopped thinking, slinging his arm out so his hand dangled off the edge of the bed. If he did this long enough, his fingers would go numb, and he could focus all his attention on the uncomfortable tingle. He knew that wallowing here wouldn't stop the pain, but when he closed his eyes, he had hope that he wouldn't wake up, and that made the hurt easier to swallow.
He had a routine. He would shower, forget to drink blood, then his stomach would cramp, and he'd remember, then sleep.
He slept now, hair damp from a shower with scalding water, and in his weakness, he dreamed of him.
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Moonlight streamed through curtains left half-closed. He sat on a settee of blue fabric and gleams of expertly embroidered silver birds.
The book he had been holding was taken from his hands.
He took in the man shadowing him: his brown hair, tan skin, and mesmerizing violet-hued eyes.
"My love?" Mercalli whispered, brows pinched in worry.
Intense misery crashed over him in waves. He knew that Mercalli was dead, but it felt natural to have the man standing before him so alive.
"You were right," Kiernan whispered.
Mercalli shut the book before letting it fall to bounce on the settee cushions. "Aren't I always right?"
Once, Mercalli had told him that Gabriel had no loyalty. He would be the weak link to reach Azrael and decimate their coven on the other side of the canal.
