Kim Kaye’s on her way out of town, but she’s promised a prize—an autographed copy of her April Aprodisia release, Scream My Name. As always, you have to post a comment to enter the contest!
There is an order to the books in the Captive Souls series. Each book can be read on its own and enjoyed. But if you’re one of those people who enjoys linked books and HAS to read them in order, this is where you start!
Love is the most dangerous enchantment…
All her life Dominique Fouche has chafed under her coven’s “protection”. It’s time she found out why she has never been allowed to explore the darker side of her nature. She ventures forth to get answers from the father she has never known, only to learn he is dead and she’s the new owner of his mansion.
The house is as mysterious as her past, where just opening an ancient book releases the pent-up fury and lust of a handsome, larger-than-life creature. Her strange new lover leaves her weak, satiated—and deathly afraid.
Bacclum, a mixed-blood angel, will not allow a mere witch stop him from finding his family and claiming his rightful heritage. Even if it means using every means at his disposal to siphon off Dominique’s power. Yet once deep inside her sinfully sweet body, he finds himself bound by a magic far stronger than any spell.
There’s a reason her blood calls out to his—and it’s made her an unwitting target of the same deadly forces bent on denying Bacclum his birthright…
Warning: Contains angel lovin’ hot enough to send you to confession for a month of Sundays—even if you’re not Catholic.
Did I mention that the book she’s giving away is excerpted in the August edition of Cosmo?!
“Pontou et pe, q’iye an dou, v’eta!” Bacclum grunted the enchantment from behind clenched teeth. He clamped his thighs around the demon’s head and wrapped his hands around his throat.
His entire body was on fire, every muscle painfully strained as sweat poured from him and dripped onto the body of the massive creature he straddled.
“Pontou et pe, q’iye an dou, v’eta!” With the ancient words, the demon’s power flooded his body. Bloodied tears fell from the corners of the demon’s closed eyes. Bacclum ignored the sympathy hovering in the recesses of his mind. All that was important was that he find Azrael and for Azrael to lead him to Arakeil, Azrael’s father. To do so he needed the demon’s power added to his own.
The end was near; the Fallen One’s life source began to fade.
“Let him go, Bacclum!” the rumbling growl demanded close behind him. “It is enough!”
“Not until he gives me what I want.” Bacclum grunted. “I want all of it.” He held on to the demon’s neck, his strength increasing as the creature weakened.
Octavius’s leathery wing brushed against one of the many cuts on Bacclum’s naked back at the same time the demon opened his eyes. The whites were eclipsed blood red, and his gaze locked with Bacclum’s.
The demon reached his hand up and slashed a claw deep into the side of Bacclum’s face, scoring his flesh. The pain was intense, unlike any Bacclum had felt throughout the long battle.
He bellowed and his grip loosened. His head swam and bile churned within his gut and filled his mouth.
The demon’s mouth opened and moved without sound.
“Let go, Bacclum!” Octavius’s roar was deafening, the tinge of fear one Bacclum had never heard from the gargoyle in all their years bound together.
Bacclum desperately tried to release the demon, watching in surprised horror as the demon’s chanting somehow became audible, louder, picking up in intensity, until it was deafening, despite his hold on his throat.
The air around them grew hot, humid and sticky. The windows began to tremble and the furniture started to wobble before sliding across the floor. A chair slammed into Bacclum’s side, but didn’t dislodge him from his position on top of the demon.
Bacclum watched as though from a distance, as the demon’s voice became a whirlwind, sucking everything in the room into its ferociously spinning column. The windows’ quaking increased violently until they exploded, the glass splintering into a thousand fragments and shards of glass falling like icy rain on Bacclum’s naked body.
The floor beneath them rumbled, cracked and split, creating a large chasm.
Bacclum’s hands were torn from the demon’s neck and he was dragged away by unseeing hands. He glanced up in time to see a shadow throw Octavius as though he were of no more significance than a child’s toy—and not a six-and-a-half-foot, massive gargoyle—into the remaining intact window, glass exploding as he was hurled through.
Bacclum had no time to think of Octavius’s fate as he was dragged along the floor, away from the demon’s body, his fingers clamped down, digging deep grooves into the hard wood.
A large tome appeared from thin air, slowly making its way toward him, spinning in wild arcs until it stopped near his body, suspended in mid-air, pages flipping until the book was wide open.
“No!” he roared, fighting like hell to escape, even as his body and spirit were sucked into the glowing amber pages whose beckoning he could not resist.
A glowing, hazy smoke surrounded the book. She coughed from instinct rather than need; the smoke had no substance beyond the visual. Afraid, Dominique shoved the book from her lap, to no avail.
The cloud left the vicinity of the book and went to the middle of the room. Her eyes rounded, her heart now racing so wildly she feared it would leap from her chest.
From the mist an outline formed, growing larger and gaining substance. She stumbled, falling to the floor and scrambling back. Dominique frantically scooted her body along the hardwood floor, far away from the shadow, grasping at the necklace.
“Shit!” she cursed.
So mesmerized by what was transpiring, she was unable to force herself to look away—even as she knew she needed to run like hell in the complete and opposite direction from whatever was forming from the pages of that book.
But like a deer caught in headlights, she was frozen where she crouched on the floor, her mouth open, her eyes perfect rings as one minute there was a dark column of smoke and the next a man…a very large, very angry, very naked man, standing in front of her.
It was him. The man from her dreams.
And he was coming for her, forcing her to admit that what had happened the day before had not been some crazy, wild dream.
Once fully formed he zeroed in on her, the expression on his chiseled, beautiful face set, angry, as he advanced on her.
She remained where she was and stared up…way, way up, at what had to be nearly seven feet of hard-muscled, golden-colored man glaring down at her. She swallowed.
Her eyes slowly met his dark, fathomless ones.
“I knew you would come back to me, Dominique.” Although he spoke quietly, there was a subtle hint of menace in his tone.
Again, she reached for the missing amulet before cursing her stupidity and, as though not to alert him to what she was doing, she began to slowly inch her body backward.
His dark eyes followed the movement of her hand reaching for her charm as she moved, a knowing smile lifting a corner of his lips ,a low laugh tumbling from his sensual mouth.
“There’s nowhere to run, Dominique.”
Before she could gather her wits and jump up, spin around and do exactly that, he was on her.