tortured by his adoptive family, Cage flees in the night with only his
instincts to guide him. Destination? A human city, apparently. His confusion is
cleared after a chance encounter with a man straight out of his dreams.
Mikkal Daggart was
tired of being on the run. After being framed, he’d disappeared, waiting for
the right moment to prove his innocence. The best place to hide? A human city.
Only trouble seems to follow him everywhere and after saving a strange man’s
life, Mikkal knows his hideout is no longer safe. Not that it matters much, he
has bigger problems. They go by the name of Cage.
Was this a second
chance to regain something Mikkal had thought lost forever? Will Cage find out
just what had always been different about himself? Will finding answers help
the two broken men mend their hearts and build a happier future?
unconscious, bleeding man home was not one of Mikkal’s wisest choices. Even
with the late hour, he was still living in a city that seemingly never slept,
and he gathered more than one wary look thrown his way, even with mostly
keeping to back alleys and once or twice, jumping over some dead ends. His
unforeseen cargo had not even stirred and if Mikkal couldn’t hear the human’s-
—and that was odd, Mikkal could swear the guy was not human, but at the same
time he couldn’t recognize the scent signature and if not for the faint
heartbeat, he’d have thought the guy was dead. In the middle of their journey,
he’d started snoring though so Mikkal figured the guy was just a bit banged up
if he could sleep so deeply while upside down and being jostled all over town.
He wanted to take the
window route and not attract attention from his neighbors by carting the
unconscious man in, but that idea was rendered moot when John was waiting,
patiently - pacing- in front of the building, pharmacy bag in one hand,
take out in the other.
“I was ready to put
an APB on you, man. But then again I don’t know how we could have
explained this situation away.”
Mikkal nodded though
he had no clue what the human was talking about. He needed to watch some TV
these days and pick up some more human lingo. Living as a council member for
the better part of his long supernatural life had not really prepared Mikkal
for blending in the human society.
“What are you
standing there for? Inside before my colleagues feel obligated to arrest both
“I would, but you’re
kinda in the way.”
John rolled his eyes
and stepped aside, and Mikkal quickly made his way to his apartment. As if by
design, he was barely in sight of his door that his burden started to groan and
“What do you think
I’m trying to do?”
John got the door,
and they both rushed in as the fidgeting escalated to full-out trashing around.
“Hey, take it easy.
I’ll put you down, all right?” Curiously enough, the guy had not uttered a
sound, and at Mikkal’s voice he froze, body tense as a board as Mikkal
carefully deposited him to his not-so-stable feet, arms still around the guy’s
waist to catch him in case the wobbling degenerated to crashing to the floor.
Not quite his usual behavior, he couldn’t help but notice. Mikkal didn’t do
fluffy worrying. Except now he seemed to be doing it. John’s amused snort was
not welcomed either.
He forgot to be
annoyed when his rescue finally raised his head and looked straight at him. The
guy’s eyes seemed to sparkle with emerald fire on his pale skin framed by
almost inky black hair. He stood unnaturally still, expression frozen but still
somewhat distrustful and Mikkal couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think, was
surprised to be still standing. Those eyes, that smell. Mikkal knew them as he
He was just standing
there. Why wasn’t he saying anything, why wasn’t he speaking or doing anything?
It was as if… as if he didn’t know Mikkal and Mikkal felt his heart beat fast
with hope while breaking at the same time.
“Wait- what? Your
Nigal? The one you told me is dead?”
“Yes. Oh my gods, oh.
His hand clutched and
squeezed, his body almost panicked at the idea of being separated for even one
more second from his mate and his cat was silent, so silent. He gathered the
man closer to him, needing-
“Who are you?”
His body jerked as if
hit and his mind reeled. He’d noticed that Nigal was unresponsive, but until
the moment he heard that small, terrified murmur voicing incertitude and
confusion, Mikkal had not realized that the body he was holding was not only
frozen but stiff and slightly shaking. Nigal was afraid.
Nigal didn’t know
How could it be him?
His mate was dead.
His hands were cold
but strong as they grabbed onto Mikkal’s wrist and held on. Mikkal felt the
touch like a brand, and he was almost sure he saw the flicker of a flash where
their skin collided. He felt a bit light-headed and the shock of the last
couple of minutes made him plain dumb, so he was still staring into those sharp
eyes and apparently not capable of speech. He hoped the muffled hearing wasn’t
a sign of imminent blackout.
“Who are you? I know
Mikkal took a deep
breath and one by one, unclenched his fingers, forcing himself to step back and
release Nigal. If it was him.
“Sorry. I’m… you.
Niga…the guy wasn’t
trembling anymore at least. Apparently not being touched by a lunatic not
capable of ordinary means of expression helped.
Aeryn Jaden loves to
read. Loves it so much that some days she doesn’t know what
reality is anymore.
Her friends and family usually have to yell a bit and remind her.
Must be why she’s
twenty eight and still searching for a special person of her own.
The second best thing
in the world for Aeryn is writing. Writing keeps her relatively
sane and clears the
voices in her head clamouring for her attention (meaning the
she’s not that crazy to randomly hear voices! Yet.). She was born
in Romania but cannot
stay put. One year you’ll find her in England, the next in
Greece or Belgium.
Who knows where her restless feet will carry her next... One
constant and that is her totally healthy Internet addiction. So you can
Crusader knight, Blaxton
de Ferrers rises as a vampire after the Knights Defender steal his soul.
Murdered by his cousin, he preys on the people he once swore to protect. His
emotions leach out of him. Gradually, he forgets how to feel.
Eight hundred years
later, he meets Harriet.
Harriet Mortlake’s a
strong, sassy woman who battles her weight and her temper. She’s the modern-day
archivist in the castle which was Blaxton’s childhood home. She’s supposed to
ferret out the castle’s secrets. Instead, she finds the love of her life. When danger threatens Harriet, Blaxton steps in.
Harriet and Blaxton are a match made in heaven. Except… he’s a vampire and he’s
destined for hell.
dare you embarrass me like that?” Harriet Mortlake planted her hands on her
hips and glowered at the man she’d cornered outside the cafe. Her normal
iceberg cool deserted her, and she wanted to slap the condescending smile off
his face. Around this stranger, she felt as though lightning bolts flashed from
a temple, not a chapel,” he insisted.
Stubborn. Damn. Male.
She’d been showing the big guns from the Castles’ Management Trust around the
building. They’d already made it clear they thought her too young for the
archivist’s role. This know-it-all had infuriated her when he sounded off in
the chapel. Now he antagonized her all over again.
if!” Harriet snorted. “No way would medieval Christians build a pagan temple on
their grounds. Superstitious locals would have accused them of devil worship.
They burned heretics at the stake, remember?”
Mr. Condescending’s interference, she’d impressed the big bosses—she thought.
Now the sexiest male, ever, clung to his ridiculous belief the chapel had been
a pagan temple.
flashed her a smile which would have lit up the underground chapel where he’d
embarrassed her earlier. He should keep his mouth shut and let her admire his
looks. Everything about him radiated sex appeal. Looking at him almost made her
anger evaporate, but he gave her the know-it-all look that made her bristle.
need to get your facts right,” he told her, determined to have the last word.
Stupid, arrogant male. She
couldn’t decide whether to show him her diplomas and degrees or kick his shins.
She’d reined in her temper while the higher-ups carried out their inspection.
Now they’d left, she felt free to vent her rage. Hands still on her hips, she
tapped her foot at him.
for words without an audience? Or don’t you have any facts to back up your
cock-and-bull story? Put up or shut up, Mister. Tell me why you think it’s a
Condescending sat outside the castle’s tearoom as if he hadn’t a care in the
world. His interference when she’d shown the bigwigs into the chapel could have
cost her the job she loved. Whitborough Castle’s extensive records needed
cataloging, and Harriet couldn’t wait to get her hands on them.
More about Kryssie Fortune
Kryssie Fortune writes the
sort of hot sexy books she loves to read. If she can sneak a dragon into her
paranormal books she will. Her paranormal heroes are muscular werewolves,
arrogant Fae or BDSM loving dragons. Kryssie likes her contemporary heroes
ex-military and dominant. Her heroines are kick ass females who can hold their
own against whatever life - or Kryssie - throws at them.
Kryssie's pet hates are unhappy endings, and a
series that end on a cliff hanger. Her books are all stand alone even when part of
series. Plot always comes before sex, but when her heroines and heroes get
together, the sex is explosive and explicit. One review called it downright