My ARC readers LOVED Immortal Inheritance!!
The next series in my Royal Vampire Clans world, the Blackstone Vampire series continues the story that began in the Darkfell Clan series:
Plunged into a forbidden world where blood is power, Logan Dean must embrace her destiny to claim her rightful place in the Blackstone Vampire Clan. But as her adversaries close in, Logan is forced to trust Constantine Darke, even though she’s hiding the secret that will destroy the clan—and Con’s life—forever.
Here is a snippet:
It was well after midnight when the air in my tiny bedroom shifted, gliding soft as a feather over my skin.
With the cold breeze still shivering across me, Darke watched me from the shadows, his golden eyes glowing like embers. The room filled up with his smoldering presence, his greedy gaze roaming over my body, like he was trying to decide where to start feasting.
Uhm, make that anywhere.
But I wanted more than his gaze.
I craved the bite of his hands on my wrists. Of his weight on my body. His lips on mine and his tongue in my mouth. My core went tight in anticipation.
Rings glinted on his strong hands, a gold cuff around one tattooed wrist, exposed by rolled-back shirt sleeves. Muscles in his forearms shifted beneath golden skin, and though most of him was hidden in shadows, I couldn’t forget the breadth of those huge shoulders.
Logan Dean.
My name floated on a phantom wind, echoing inside my head.
Constantine Darke. Why are you here?
Because you and I? He glided forward. We share a complicated history.
Impossible. Yet somehow, his words didn’t feel like a lie. If that’s true, why don’t I remember you?
His answering smile was hungry as a wolf’s, touched with menace. You remember, Logan. You just don’t know it yet. The closer he got, the more Darke became the very essence of sex, his thick body layered with muscle, his face hard with desire, and his scent…dense and dusky and delicious. I breathed him in so deeply, I tasted him.
Let me remind you of all you’ve forgotten.
He shrugged out of his shirt and prowled closer. I took in the complicated tattoo on his left pec, the intricate Celtic knots that formed a circle. The cross on one shoulder that trailed into a complicated sleeve. Fuck, I loved tattoos.
I clamped my thighs together; my pussy was already dripping. Everything about this place…isn’t what it seems, is it?
No. It’s not. Darke dropped to the bed, straddling me, wrapping strong fingers around my wrists, pinning my hands high over my head. I didn’t resist.
No, I shuddered with yearning, as if we’d done this a hundred times, and I still couldn’t get enough of him.
You have to leave, first thing in the morning. I’ll buy the fucking house. Take the money and go anywhere you want, but you can’t stay here.
My gaze gobbled him up, from his too-long hair, to his tattooed chest, to those eyes, demanding that I obey him. Some obstinate part of me refused.
Maybe I want to stay.
No. Leaving is your only option.
Even with his hands on me, a chill shivered up my spine. You don’t dictate where I go. Nobody does.
I could force you to leave. To forget this place ever existed. As one elegant hand caged my wrists, the other drifted over my waist, circling, the whisper of his fingers moving steadily downward. I went limp, spreading my legs in anticipation of those fingers traveling lower still.
Do it, then, I taunted softly. Just try forcing me to…
Darke slanted his mouth over mine almost cruelly, his tongue punishing mine. I opened for him, and when those clever fingers slipped underneath the edge of my panties, then plunged inside…my hips bucked up off the bed. I wanted him deeper; grinding my hips against those two fingers, my need focusing down to the friction, the pressure, the…
I burst out of the dream, a quivering, sodden mess.
I’d climaxed—hard and fast—from an imaginary kiss and two thick fingers.
From a goddamn dream about the second biggest asshole I’d ever met. What in the hell was wrong with me? I didn’t want a man. I didn’t need a man. Surely not one as arrogant as Darke.
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