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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"Darling, I've been told you have something for me."
"Yes..."
A woman stood before him in a form-fitting black dress. She gave off an enticing scent of apprehension but wasn't frightened, even though she should be. Naivety burned bright in her green eyes and an enticing glaze of innocence that beckoned him to rise from the upholstered sofa of silver fabric.
The very innocence that risked a flicker of her eyes to take him in appreciatively. He paused before her, staring down, and she stared up. Her eyes were nearly green enough. Fingering a strand of curly hair that lay across her bare shoulders, he smiled.
She never looked away from his face, obedient to his whim.
Her dark hair held hints of red in the warm light of the chandelier above. His fingers skimmed the lovely curve of her neck, perfect skin untouched by scars.
'Carla' was a resounding growl thrashing in his mind.
He wasn't fool enough to fall for such a trick.
'She's becoming bold.'
"Quiet," he growled.
The woman's green eyes widened, but she didn't comment on his sudden outburst.
His mind fell silent. He didn't need the whispers to tell him how much of a cunt his mage had become in her comfortability. Maybe he'd take her other arm and beat her daughter to death with the dead limb. That would be hilarious and fitting for her constant treachery. She might have the magic he needed to invoke the ritual, but it didn't mean another mage couldn't take her place.
Finding one, however, had been difficult. He'd been close, and the voices had agreed that the agent was powerful enough to take over for Carla. But he'd escaped—an oversight. Azrael had underestimated the mind reader's sadism. It was not an unwelcome surprise, but it wasn't ideal given the circumstances.
His fingers curled around the woman's slim throat, so small in his grasp. Her rapid pulse pounded against his palm.
A shove had her pinned against the far wall faster than she could react. A gasp escaped from her pink lips, and beneath his hold, she shuddered. Her fear filled the air as she realized she was outmatched in every way.
Her green eyes gleamed with magic. But she didn't try to fight; shaking hands kept at her sides.
Clever girl. Otherwise, he'd have snapped her neck and sent her back to her mistress in pretty pieces.
"What's your name?" he asked, deceptively calm. He could kill her with only a squeeze.
The voices were clawing at his mind, unfocused and painful. He would need to silence them soon before he fell into insanity.
And he could... right now.
Through the glass of the Palladian arch window that he'd nearly smashed her head through, he could see the foggy peaks of the mountains in the distance. A light rain had begun to dot the frosty glass. The sky was a gloomy grey, as it perpetually was in his realm of shadow.
