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Anyway, on that fateful day where our story begins, as the last rays of the sun slid behind the mountains, my eyes opened, I sat up, and immediately knew something was different. It was as if there was a blip in the space-time continuum. Or the vibrational soup I'd grown accustomed to swimming in had a new carrot in the pot. Or someone's soul signature was pulling me: As if a special radio station with a signal that only I could hear had gone on the air. And, while we're on the subject, let me clear up another thing right now.

Vampires have souls. It is the body that dies. This energy continues, regardless. It does seem to be the case that each soul — yes, that includes vampires — has its own song and, according to legend and myth, each soul is theoretically matched with another soul whose song is similar. We've all been bashed over the head with the soul mate thing, so I won't bore you with that. Besides, the entire topic really is much more complicated and interesting than we usually hear about.

It was a beautiful spring night and the air was perfumed with a wonderful combination of lilacs and the blooms of Russian olive trees. The full moon was doing that mystical thing where it's shrouded in haze and surrounded with wispy, shimmering rings of colors. The kind of moon that foretells magical and momentous events.

Scrumptious Niven led me through a parking area, next to the creek that runs through the center of town, and over to a grassy oasis, replete with benches, pot-smoking lay-abouts, and enthusiastic fornicators. While it isn't usually my style to allow one of my "companions" to call the shots or take command, I found myself amused by Niven's assumption of my acquiescence. In fact, I was getting a going-to-the-prom rush okay, so I have no idea what that would feel like, really. Play along, won't you? Anyway, since it felt good, I decided to continue doing it.

He navigated us to a relatively human-free area and audaciously backed me up against the trunk of a huge tree, where he proceeded to run his hands up and down my arms. I have to say that I was really enjoying my temporary role as wolf in sheep's clothing. I figured there'd be plenty of time later for this delicious dish to find out what kind of cage he'd rattled. Malveaux skulked in the shadows along the abandoned industrial buildings.

9 books and reviews that will make you consider Paranormal Romance

A relentless blizzard — an uninvited Canadian visitor — pounded the urban landscape, causing even those with exceptional vision to falter in the wall of white. Instinctual, perhaps. Parts of the inner city of Detroit had become the stuff of nightmares. Not only because they were inhabited by creatures of the night like him, but because of the frighteningly ingenious methods humans had devised for harming each other.

And they called him a monster. One benefit to frequenting this seedy part of town was the readily-available food source. He quite enjoyed sucking the throats of these ladies of the evening, then erasing their memories of said event.

They always struck him as painfully honest, acknowledging the very human need for sex, unlike the masses who pretended to feel no such compulsions. He was excruciatingly aware of his needs. Blood and sex. A family tradition. A burst of frigid air hit Tempest as the front door opened. Thinking a few more customers might be braving the sudden ice age to show up for the last set, she was disappointed to see only a solitary man step inside. He shook his hair away from his face, sending a shower of melting snow down the walls, and straightened the collar on his coat.

The entryway was directly in front of her at the far end of the club, and luckily, there were a lot of overhead lights, so she got a good look at the new arrival. Even with his long, dark hair snow-covered, wet, and plastered against his shoulders, she felt her breath catch — and not from the cold air. Tall, with light skin and piercing eyes. She appreciated the cut of his leather duster and suspected it was high dollar. What the hell was a fancy number like him doing in a crap hole like this?

Maybe he was another one of those mafia jerks. They were always showing up to extort one kind of payment or another. Hidden in the darkness of the stage, she followed him with her eyes as he strode purposefully to the booth tucked back in the far corner. The bartender, along with every other life form in the smoky room, had gone completely still as the newcomer passed. Pausing next to the booth, the man removed his coat, shaking it to dislodge the melting snow and ice.

So much, that her body stirred in satisfied anticipation of the unexpected possibility that had just magically offered itself for later that night. Pitiful that males were so easily controlled, but it was just as well, since she so enjoyed being in charge. She watched the handsome stranger fold himself into the booth, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chaz, the bartender, spring from behind the bar.

Surrender the Dark (Boston After Dark, #1) by Tibby Armstrong

The previously laid-back — read stoned — fellow practically fell over his own feet in his frantic attempt to reach the leather man. He hovered near the booth, wringing his hands, nodding energetically at whatever the new customer was saying. Chaz finally pointed toward the pay phone near the shelves of liquor and speed-walked in that direction, leaving the man alone. But still, the vibe he gave off around the stud muffin was unusual, almost as if he was afraid or something. She could feel the thrum of his anxiety from her observation post.

No surprise, really.

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Most of the businesses in the inner city were mob controlled. Maybe the eye candy in the booth was high-up on the motherfucker feeding chain.

Bite of Darkness [A New Adult Dark Vampire Romance] (Darkness Falls)

She smirked. A lesser woman might take a pass on rolling around with a member of The Family, but she always enjoyed a challenge. None of the assholes had gotten the upper hand with her yet, and she felt confident she could call the shots with this yummy specimen, too. Sliding through the darkness, Natasha entered the cold, quiet house. She ran her hand along the side of the wall, found the light switch, clicked it, but nothing happened.

Her words echoed back to her in the shadowed emptiness. Her favorite. Holding her hands out in front of her, she inched forward in the darkness, searching for another room where he might be waiting. She shivered with excitement and fear. Asking her to meet him in an ancient, abandoned house seemed adventurous at first.

Now she was anxious. But she had told him she liked surprises. Especially wicked ones. Just as she passed a set of etched-glass windows, the full moon emerged from behind a cloud and illuminated the room. She gasped, pressing a hand to her breast. A man stood before her. And what a man.

He was over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular chest. Although not going to happen, The Nomad should totally run commentary on all your stories. I knew it! From the first moment they started talking in their heads alex and the nomad , i knew something like this was gonna happen! It kind of reminds me of Drakon, when the First spied in their hot moments! I loved it there, love it here.

By the way, that was HOT! Like volcan-sun-center of the earth-all mixed together-hot! PD: by the way. There is a mistake in the chapter. The part were Alex was touching Demetrius and the licking it? Of course, when Demetrius finds out…. This story is intense! I really am enjoying the depth to your characters the smoothness of the events and strict adherence to your plot.


The pull between Alex and Demetrius is so strong — what an amazing love! So romantic, and passionate. I really want to see how this night evolves first, then how their lives intertwine. Besides this coming battle, there is still the situation with Greg to resolve. I think there is something very weird going on around his father, too.

So much of interest with each of the characters here.