Title: Into the ShadowFormat Read: ebook
Series: Darkness Chosen #3
Release date: July 1st 2008
Formats Available: ebook, kindle, paperback
Number of pages: 378
Rating:
Book Blurb:
Blessed—or cursed—with the ability to change into a sleek panther, and driven by a dark soul he’s accepted as his fate, Adrik Wilder abandons his family and his honor to pursue a life of wickedness. He excels at every vice, including kidnapping Karen Sonnet to use for his selfish purposes.
But Karen’s spirit and passion make him question the force of his family’s curse. And when a new evil emerges, Adrik must choose whether to enact revenge on his enemies and redeem his soul, or save Karen from a fate worse than death.
My Thoughts:
This is Adrik book and we don’t have much information about him, because he escaped from home with only 18 and everyone though he was dead but in reality he was in the Himalayan Mountains leading a mercenaries group, much like Robin Wood.
And that’s how he met Karen, when she was send to the mountains to help on the construction of a new hotel, but every night she got the visit from this strange man and they had amazing sex, one day when an avalanche happened Adrik saved Karen and kidnapped her to his tends.
But the Varinskis discovered about him and now Karen has to fight for her life and escape with Adrik.
I loved Adrik, he’s hunted by a death that occurred when he’s no more than a child and Karen actually helps him, is really to see how he reconnect with his past and also helps find the icon. Karen is strong and they match from the first moment. I think Adrik has the best women from the whole brothers.
Purchase information:
Trailer:
Excerpts:
The dream started as it always did, with a gust of cold Himalayan air striking Karen Sonnet’s face.
She woke with a start. Her eyes popped open.
The darkness in her tent pressed on her eyeballs.
Impossible. Tonight, she’d left a tiny LED burning.
Yet it was dark. Somehow, he’d obliterated the light.
No. No, it was a dream. Just like all those other nights.
But she could have sworn she was awake. She heard the constant wind that blew through this narrow mountain valley, whistling through the granite stones outside and buffeting the ripstop nylon canopy that protected her — barely — from annihilation, and the high, sweet chime of the bells hung across the tent flap. She smelled the scent of tobacco, spices and wool her interpreter had left behind. She felt the menacing cold slipping its cold fingers into the tent …
She strained to hear his footfall.
Nothing.
Still, she knew he was here. She could sense him moving across the floor toward her, and as she waited each nerve tightened, stretching …
His cool hand touched her cheek, making her gasp and jump.
He chuckled, a low, deep sound of amusement. “You knew I would come.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
As he knelt beside her cot, she breathed in his scent: leather, cold water, fresh air, and something else — the smell of wildness. He kissed her, his cool lips firm, his breath warm in her mouth.
She hung suspended in time, in place … in a dream. Yet he kissed as if he were real, not a shadow in the night, and as he lingered her body stirred, her breasts swelling, the familiar longing growing deep inside.
How many nights had it been? Two months? More? Sometimes he didn’t come for one night, two, three, and on those nights she slept deeply, worn out by hard work and the high, thin air. Then he’d return, his need greater, and he touched her, loved her, with a edge of violence sharp as knife. Yet always, she sensed his desperation, and welcomed him into her mind … and her body.
This time, he had gone almost a week.
He slid down the zipper on her sleeping bag, each tooth making a rasping noise, each noise making Karen's heartbeat escalate another notch. He started at her throat, cupping it, pressing on the pulse that raced there. He pushed the bag aside, exposing her to the cold night air. “You wait for me … naked.” He pressed his palm between her breasts, feeling her heart beat. “You’re so alive. You make me remember …”
“Remember what?” He sounded American, without a hint of accent, and at the times of madness, when she thought he must be real, she wondered where he was from and what he was doing here.
But he didn’t want her to think. Not now. Greedily, he caressed her slight breasts, one in each palm. His hands were long, rough, callused and he used them to massage her while with his thumbs, he circled her nipples.
She made a raw sound in her throat.
“You’re in need.” His voice deepened. “It’s been a long time …”
“I’ve been waiting.”
“And that was my torment, that I could be here with you.”
It was the first time he’d ever suggested he needed this as much as she did. She smiled, and somehow, in this pitch dark, he must have seen her.
“You like that. But if you’ve tormented me, I must torment you in return.” His head dipped. He took one pebbled nipple in his mouth and suckled, softly at first, then as she whimpered, with strength and skill.
He made her go crazy.
But then — any woman who dreamed a shadow lover was already halfway to insane.
She grabbed a handful of his hair, and discovered how very long it was … and soft, and silky. She tugged at him, pulling his head back.
“What do you want?” His voice was a husky whisper.
“Hurry.” She was chilled. She was desperate. “I want you to hurry.”
“But if I hurry, I won’t get to do this.” He pushed the sheet down further, caressed her belly and thighs. Lifting her knees, he spread her legs, exposing her to the cold, shocking her, making her suck in a startled breath.
“Let me see.” He tilted her hips up. “Are you really ready?”
His fingers glided from her knees along the tender skin on her inner thighs to the dampness there. With a delicate touch, he opened the lips and dabbed a touch on her clitoris. “I love your scent, so rich and female. The first time, it was your scent that called me to you.”
Horrified, she tried to draw her legs together. “I bathe every night.”
“I didn’t say you smelled. I said you have a scent that calls to me.” His nails skated up and down her thighs, pushing them apart again … and they were sharp, almost like claws. Almost a threat. “Not to any other man. Only to me.”
“Are you a man?” The question slipped out, and she regretted it. Regretted injecting reality into the dream.
“I thought I had conclusively proved my manhood to you. Shall I do it again?” The hint of warning was gone; he sounded warmly amused, and the finger he pushed inside her was long, strong … and clawless.
The impact made her fling her head back, and when he pushed a second finger inside, her hips moved convulsively. “Please. Lover. I need you.”
“Do you?” Slowly he pulled his fingers back, pressed them back in, pulled them out … and as he pressed them in, he pinched her clit between his thumb and forefinger.
She screamed. She came. Orgasm blasted her away from this cold, bleak mountainside and into a fire pit. Her thighs clamped around his hand. Red swam beneath her closed eyelids. Heat radiated from her skin.
He laughed, one compelling stroke following another, feeding her madness until she collapsed, shivering and gasping, too weak to move.
He covered her with himself.
“I can’t,” she whispered, and her voice shook. “Not again.”
“Yes, you will.”
“No. Please.” She tried to struggle, but he stretched out on top of her. Her head was buried in his shoulder; obviously, he was tall. His body, heavy with muscle, pressed her into the cot. His flesh was cool and firm. His shoulders, chest and stomach rippled with vigor, and his heart thrummed in his chest.
Power hummed through him, and he easily held her as he probed again … but not with his fingers.
She was swollen with need, and his organ was big, bigger than both his fingers. As he worked himself inside her, she whimpered, her body gradually adjusting to the width, the breadth, and all the while the aftermath of climax made her inner muscles spasm.
He held her wrapped in his arms, clutching her as if she was his salvation.
And she embraced him, her arms gripping him against her chest, her legs clasped around his hips, giving him herself, absorbing … absorbing all his ardor, all his need, knowing this was a dream and wanting nothing more.
When the tip of his penis touched the innermost core of her, they both froze.
Darkness held them in a cocoon of heat and sex and emotions stretched too tight for comfort.
Then their passion flashed bright enough to light the night.
He pulled out and pushed back in, thrusting fast and hard, dragging her with him on his quest for satisfaction.
She held on, rapture flowing through her with the heat and intensity of lava.
The tempo built and built until above her, his breathing stopped. He gathered himself, rising high above her, holding her knees behind him … then plunged one last time.
Ecstasy exploded her into tiny fragments of being. She came, convulsing with pleasure, until she was no longer an austere, lonely workaholic, but a creature of joy and light.
Unhurriedly, he dropped back on top of her, bringing the silk sheets and sleeping bag up to cover them. Reaching down to the floor, he pulled a large blanket over them … but no. She touched it with her hand, and discovered fur, thick and soft. A skin of some kind, then.
Had he taken her on a trip back in time, back to a century where a man brought the woman he desired proof of his hunting prowess? Wasn’t that a better explanation than madness?
As the perspiration cooled on their bodies, as their breath and heartbeats returning to normal, she slid easily into sleep.
She stood on the edge of the cliff, the blue sky surrounding her. The wind blew hard, tumbling her hair around her face, and in its voice she heard the wails of mourning women, the hoarse sobs of lonely men, and a child’s anguished wail. She tried to back up, to get away, but her feet were too heavy. She fell …
Just before she hit, she started violently.
She woke to find him leaping to his feet. She heard the click of a gun’s safety.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “What did you hear?”
“Nothing. A nightmare.” A phantasm of her mind, one that had threatened her since she was a child.
Since the day her mother had fallen from that cliff.
Slowly, her lover placed something beneath the bed — a firearm of some kind, she now realized — and slid back between the covers. “You weren’t completely asleep.”
“That’s when I … that’s when it always comes.”
“A monster?” He pushed the short, straight strands of dark brown hair away from her face.
“Death.” Shivering, she wrapped herself around him.
She reclined on her narrow cot in her tent at the foot of Mt. Anaya. The darkness pressed down on her, the sense of wrong in this place oppressed her. She hated everything about it.
And tomorrow she would rise. He would gone. And she would go to work, another day spent in hell.
So she wept.
He caressed her face with his fingertips, found her tears, said, “No. Don’t do that.”
The tears only flowed more quickly.
He kissed her. Kissed the damp from her cheeks, her lips, her throat … he kissed as if they hadn't made love only ten minutes before. He kissed her with passion. He kissed her with intent. Finally, she forgot to cry, and remembered nothing but desire.
Afterward, as she slid off to sleep, she thought she hear him say, in a slow, hoarse voice, “You make me real again.”
0 comentários:
Postar um comentário