Moon Kissed
Publisher: Amira Press
Length: Short Story
Genre: Paranormal Romance
When Kassia Lambert wakes in a warm bed, alive and intact, she can’t believe her good fortune. She should be dead, considering she was sent head first into brick and mortar. So why isn’t she?
Lycae Adam Trevlian has waited three long years to claim his mate, a human that battles for the Thymeria vampires. After he saves her life, he brings her with him, intent on doing just that. But betrayal and heartbreak is hard to overcome, and even with the kiss of the moon on his side, Adam knows Kassia may or may not forgive his past actions.
Excerpt
The quiet darkness faded into a soft orange light as I lifted my weighted lids and blinked rapidly to bring an unfamiliar room into focus. I detected the distinct sounds of a fire crackling nearby, the heady fragrance of scorched oak combined with fresh linens wafting throughout the air and lining my nose.
I shifted atop the soft, billowy mattress, relieved to discover there were no aches or pains. Everything worked as it should—torso, limbs, and head firmly attached. It was odd that I felt so well, considering I’d been thrown headfirst into an unforgiving brick wall.
Biting back the startled gasp that came courtesy of the immediate recollection was easy. Calming the erratic beating of my heart was impossible. As the chosen of the Thymeria, I had been selected to track and face the ever-elusive Master vampyren Demetrius Espada—the King’s very own second and the monster in command of the sin eaters. It was an honor bestowed to many of my orphaned brothers and sisters, a task repeatedly failed. The sadistic bastard was infallible and sent more and more of us to unmarked graves.
Which begged the question, why wasn’t I six feet deep?
I struggled to remember, forcing jagged pieces to interlock together to form a hazy memory of being glamoured before kissing solid rock and mortar with my cranium. The wall came first, blackness speckled my vision, and Demetrius appeared at my side to finish the job.
His fangs descended, coming closer. I felt the heat of his breath against the vulnerable softness of my throat. And then . . . then . . .
Damn it! I cursed my faulty memory and struggled beneath the thick duvet, shrugging aside the expensive and lush down. The clean white bandage wrapped snugly around my right forearm protested the violent thrashing, and I tested my range of motion with the rotation of my wrist. There was no pain, just an annoying itchy sensation I quickly brushed aside.
I stood on steady feet and shivered when the whisper of the cool air brushed against my bare legs. Gazing down, I frowned at the soft white cotton shirt with several buttons left loose covering my all but naked body. I lifted my head, glancing around the room. Aside from the bed, fireplace, and myself, there were zero adornments in the plain white space. My clothing was gone, as were my weapons.
My relief at being alive was short-lived. I didn’t know where I was, but it was high time I found out. Whoever brought me here obviously didn’t want me dead, which meant there was work to be done. I had to get back to the streets. Demetrius was alive and would continue to kill, draining the life from the innocent and overpopulating the world with more of his tainted race.
I shivered at the thought.
Every preternatural race had what was referred to as The Fallen—evil creations that embraced the darkness instead of the light. They were a curse, a plague, a taint on the world. And vampyren—vampires that had fallen from grace—were the most reviled creatures roaming the mortal earth.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the open doorway, and I froze, peering around frantically. There wasn’t even a poker near the roaring fireplace. I had no weapons to wield, no way of defending myself.
Cursing quietly, I backtracked, lurched onto the bed, and climbed across the soft mess of sheets and feather comforter more clumsily than I would have liked. As I neared the edge of the mattress, I lost my balance and landed in a laughable heap atop the hard wood floor. My trembling limbs supported my weight as I made it to my feet and, preparing to face impending company, pressed flat against the wall.
It was a good thing I had the foresight to brace myself against the comforting solidity of cool plaster. I’d never been prepared for the sight or presence of Adam Trevlian. Not in the past, and certainly not now.
He was as gorgeous as he was lethal, a superb and debilitating example of a Lycae male. His ebony hair was short along the sides and back, the top slightly longer. His steps were purposeful and calculated, smooth and graceful, bringing his imposing and enormous six foot, five inch frame into the confining space. He was shirtless, covered in nothing more than a wrinkled pair of black slacks. A slathering of yellow-hued bruises marred the perfection of his tanned and contoured skin, a sealed gash closed and on the mend over his left eye.
He paused inside the doorway, studying me. His radiant forest green eyes roamed as far as the bed would allow, pausing midway on their trek before returning to my face. When he spoke, I thought I might crumble.
“Diien, Kassia.”
My name on his lips was the ultimate aphrodisiac, which sent waves of liquid heat to my sex and created an odd inner cramping in my stomach. This was the reason I’d left the Thymeria faction in New Orleans in favor of those housed in New York. He was too combustible, too undeniable, and too damned irresistible to leave alone.
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