Read Vampire Mine (Love at Stake 10) by Kerrelyn Sparks Online Free - Free Novels Online
That is to say, boring. Marielle is an angel cast down from heaven for disobeying orders, three times. Each time related to her compassion getting in the way, and saving someone — against orders — who later went on to do terrible things.
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Now it is final. Her wings have been torn from her and she has become visible; even worse, for Marielle, she can no longer hear the heavenly host or God — for the first time in her existence, she is utterly alone. She if found by Connor Buchanan, a vampire nearly five hundred years old, who has been fighting the Malcontents — those vicious vampires who still feed on humans as if they were cattle. Vampire Mine is quite light on plot, leaving plenty of page-space for Connor and Marielle to get to know each other in a secluded cabin in the woods — necessary for character development when you introduce a new species of other-worldly being.
Vampire Mine (Love at Stake Series #10)
The blatant good-versus-evil angel, prevalent in the entire series, is particularly strong here and, at times, hard to stomach. Gregori Holstein is assigned the job of convincing the US government to declare the video a hoax, while also bringing them in on the Big Secret. Gregori is charged with taking her to China and keeping her safe while she searches for it. In the process, the small group of Vamps and shifters that accompany her discover a new threat to humanity: genetically-altered humans with some vampire abilities, controlled by a mysterious Master Han, who seems to be in league with a demon.
Putting aside the whole farfetchedness of the plot, Sexiest Vampire Alive was quite enjoyable. The zombie-minded Chinese warriors adds a new element, now that Casimir is dead and the Malcontents no longer a threat, but the Chinese-threat aspect is reminiscent of all those anti-Russia, Cold War stories. I suppose the Middle East is a bit too obvious — plus, culturally it is too different to enable a vampire storyline and too sunny?
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And a paranormal romance series is very much like a fluffy TV show: easy to sink into and become comfortable in the world as it is presented, and I still enjoy sinking into this comfortable otherworld. All so he can go into hiding to chase up on a lead that Corky Currant is in Wyoming, rallying the Malcontents to her by self-styling herself as their queen. As Phineas learns more unsavoury truths about life in a werewolf pack, especially for the daughter of an alpha, he comes to see Bryn in a whole new light. This instalment focussed on the role of tradition and the oppression of women, which is perhaps another reason why I liked it more than the ones that stereotype other races.
And the ending was a bit of a surprise, in terms of what happens to Phineas. Howard Barr is, as his name would suggest, a bear shifter. That is, literally, all that I can remember of the plot — and I needed the blurb to help me with that much. Really, what this series seems to come down to is all the ways men — specifically men — can be utter bastards and harm others, yet I would never call it a feminist series. You can use these HTML tags.
ISBN 13: 9780061958045
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Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive new posts by email. Featured Posts. However, you stiffen slightly as you feel his nose pressing to your neck; frizzy hair tickles your jaw, your face as you unconsciously take in a breath. Again, you whisper his name, flicking an askance at him.
A soft hiss breaks the tense silence and you feel cold sweat beginning to form on your crown as you stare, feeling as bewildered as you are slightly worried. You hear him take in a breath, slow and deep, before the dark-haired man breathes a second snarl, sounding more vexed now. You blink again, more slowly this time. A frown is quick to possess your lips, pinched to a thin line.
al-ani.net/assets/android/som-us-which-offers.php The vampire you faced down mere hours ago is the reason why you returned home to your live-in boyfriend, sweating, bruised and bloody, and bearing one last reminder of your life-or-death meeting with him: a bite wound on your throat; two holes leaking red that are prominent to anyone looking for them. Quietly, you feel a thin trace of your sadism rearing its ugly head.
You hope that the pain you felt was returned to him two-fold, no, ten-fold. You hope the numerous holes you left in his body was an agonizing reminder of why you are not someone to be toyed with, and you certainly hope that wherever vampires like him go to in the afterlife welcomed him with open arms. Near-death experiences are all the rage nowadays. For once. He is practically growling the words, not even bothering to hide his distaste as he leans away from your neck, staring you fully in the face as his irked glare meets your coolly collected stare.
Slowly, as though you are nothing but a glass figurine, his fingers trail along the bandage that covers your neck. I was fairly sure I got the stink of that rude vampire off of me. You note his tone is much softer now. The dork that you call your live-in boyfriend never passes up the opportunity to tease you, to get under your skin, and push your buttons until he finally gets a rise out of you. Such a thought fails to erase the sincere feelings that trouble you. You almost swear up and down that he sounds genuinely concerned now. Thankfully, it is nothing like how your first meeting went down.
Your eyes pointed a stare down at the man whose throat was torn out, almost quite literally so. You knew him. Everyone had a run-in with him in your town at least once. Some meetings were good, other encounters were far less benevolent. You wondered if the man beneath the other man—the one who you beat at a game of pool in a crappy, run-down bar a few towns over—was innocent. You wondered what he did to earn the attention of the man drinking from the dead body.
You wondered if he did anything at all to earn a fate like that ….
But it was who leaning over him that truly matters—or rather, what was leaning over him that received your undivided attention. In several seconds that seemed to last forever, you saw, heard, felt and did many things. You saw blood flowing down a chin, eyes blazing red and hungry. You saw the fangs dripping crimson as a breath that reeks of warm metal was breathed in your direction.
The feeling of ice filled your lungs as you breathed in, slowly. The cold barrel of your gun was heavy in your hand and the stake you had tucked inside your coat felt as though it weighed a ton, though you wielded them as well as a chef held a pair of carving knives. The loud pop of your gun firing and the smell of gunpowder lingering in the autumn air is all you can successfully recall. A sharp pinch to your side pulls you from your thoughts and, reluctantly, you turn your attention to the frizzy-haired man you call your boyfriend.
Silently, you note that the displeasure is far more blatant in his voice now; you can practically taste the barely-there irritation lacing his words as they roll off his tongue, leaves his lips that are curled to a small, tooth-filled sneer. Touching and harming the person who is mine. Not only that, but giving my kind a bad name. He says nothing in response; the puff of air that hits your neck, ghosts over your collarbone tells of his huff.
However, the snicker that rolls off of your tongue next is cut off abruptly, and you breathe a gasp as the noise of a sudden suction fills your ears. The noise is so sudden that the silence filling the dark bedroom is broken for what seems like forever, but finally, it returns to only being disturbed by the muffled wailing of the wind, the light thunder of rain hitting the window, and the soft ticks of the clock on the end table next to the bed.
A second suck to your neck promptly shuts you up, but it is followed up with the tiniest and familiar brush of fangs ghosting over the warm, trembling skin of your throat.