Monday, May 27, 2013

BLOOD DESCENT by Marie Treanor

BLOOD DESCENT by Marie Treanor

Blood Hunters Book Three

A child is born...into the final showdown of Vampire and Hunter

The face of a killer, the heart of a lost child… Konrad once led the legendary first team of Hungarian vampire hunters. Now, refusing to ally with the undead, he goes his own way, slaughtering vampires across the length and breadth of Europe.

The dying thoughts of one such vampire send Konrad to Britain in search of a dangerous instrument that might be just what he needs in his obsessive war with undead overlord Saloman – a war he’s determined to win at any cost. The only being who can lead him to the instrument and its current, evil possessor, is sexy, mysterious, young Glaswegian vampire Maggie, who holds herself aloof from her own kind.

Maggie sees much more than Konrad’s anger and cruelty. She makes it her mission to reach beyond the horrors of his past and find the man he should have been. Difficult, when he threatens her heart as well as everything she believes in; and when her whole being clamors for his body and his blood.

While journalists circle, about to break the news of vampire existence on mainstream television, Elizabeth Silk labors to give birth to Saloman’s daughter, and Maggie plays a dangerous game that risks everyone for her belief in one troubled man.



“Torture?” Maggie stared at him. “Why do you imagine Dmitriu would torture her? It’s hardly his style.”

“He’s a vampire,” Konrad retorted, glaring at her with something very like defiance. “However civilized the veneer, brutality’s never far from the surface. Now stay out of my fucking mind.”

He turned away from her, and she gazed at his rigid back. None of the vampires in his vision resembled Dmitriu. In fact, the victim wasn’t even Janine.

“Oh, Konrad,” she whispered. “That’s what happened to you…”

“Crap,” he said shortly, throwing himself onto the bed. “And if it was, I bloody wouldn’t want another vampire’s pity!”

But she wouldn’t have that. She flew at him before he was prepared, and managed to hold him only because he’d grown too used to her and too dismissive. She knocked him backward, straddling him, holding his straining wrists on either side of his head.

“No vampire’s pity,” she agreed. “And no human’s either. You can’t go on like that.”

Pure hatred, fury, spat from his eyes. It wasn’t really for her. He wasn’t even seeing her, not as she was.

“Konrad. There’s nothing wrong with pity. Here’s mine.”

He was strong. She couldn’t hold him for long. So she leaned down to him, put her lips to his forehead, and kissed him. Warm, male human skin. With delicious hunter blood flowing beneath. He stared up at her as she raised her head.

“Just that?” he said and lunged upward, crashing his mouth into hers, seizing her lips.

Surprise loosened her fingers on his wrists, and abruptly he pushed her off him, flipping so that he now lay over her. His mouth bore down harder, opening hers for the invasion of his tongue, devouring her.

And, God, it felt good. Pity and compassion drowned in need of his hard, muscular body, in wanting the rich, powerful blood now rushing through his veins. She met his tongue with hers, caressed it, moved her lips with his, struggling for a dominance she didn’t really want. She was enjoying the fight too much. And it did feel like a fight, a hot, sexy battle. She undulated beneath him, loving the feel of his warm, strong body pressing her down into the bed. Between her legs, lust raged as she rubbed her tenderness against his erection.

This was what she’d wanted in London, when they’d fallen together over the wall above the canal—this wild, rising passion, his erection grinding into her, reaching between her thighs, his mouth hot, commanding, his hands all over her body like this, one closing on her breast, his thumb grazing over her aching nipple again and again.

But he hadn’t done it earlier, because he’d almost liked her then. He hadn’t wanted to punish her.

God help him, he imagined this was punishment.

She tore her mouth free, glaring at him. “Why are you such an arse?” she raged.

Just for a moment, he looked blank. His blue eyes, no longer hard or icy, were clouded with lust, his lips softened from kissing her. Slowly, the mists cleared, and yet something fierce remained, overlaid with the faintest hint of humor, which was, surely, his saving grace.

“Well, at least we know where we stand,” he observed. “I want to fuck you. You want me to fuck you. But we’ll never do it, because you’re a vampire and I’m an arse.”

Hurt and fury melted under the hunter’s mouth. She’d never imagined he could or would kiss like that, tenderness mixed with the ferocity sizzling just below the surface. Need blazed under the weight of his hard body, weakening and arousing. When she heard the soft thud of the stake hitting the floor, she let out a sound like a sob, muffled by his mouth, and her fist tightened in his soft hair.

His tongue found her fangs, and he growled, licking them and sucking them, and triumph soared because he wanted all of her. Releasing his hair, she swept her hand down his back to the hem of his T-shirt and plucked.

He released her mouth, sat up, and tore the T-shirt off. His chest was beautiful, smooth under her caressing hand except for the ridge of old scars and the scattering of fine hair at the center. Deliberately, he tugged at her already rucked-up dress. With both hands, he pushed the fabric up over her waist and breasts, where he lingered. His breath caught, perhaps because she was naked beneath.

A smile played around his lips. She’d never seen them so softened by sensuality. He pushed the dress up over her head and her free arm, and threw it to one side over the cuffed arm.

“Fuck,” he whispered, staring at her, devouring her with his eyes. “Just fuck.”

“That,” she said unsteadily, “would be acceptable.”

He cupped one breast in his palm, moving his palm across the nipple, then slowly lowered his head and kissed the other. His lips, his tongue caressed, and she closed her eyes in bliss, arching up into him. With her free hand, she held his head to her breast, then slid it down over his naked back in a sweeping caress that ended at his jeans. She pushed inside the waistband, feeling the hot curve of his buttock, and pulled him closer.

His lower body shifted, as he shoved his hand between them to unfasten his jeans, which he all but kicked off in his urgency. Then, at last, he was naked between her legs, kissing her breast once more while his hand caressed the length of her leg and swept inward, bathing in the wetness of her need. He muttered something under his breath, adjusted himself, and pushed inside her with a groan.

“Oh yes,” Maggie whispered as anticipation drowned in excitement and intense, rising pleasure. She pushed up onto him and twisted her hips, moaning as the hot thickness slid farther inside her.

He began to move with a fierce urgency that delighted her. She squeezed him, writhed and pushed under him, egging him on until he slammed into her over and over. Excruciating bliss built and soared. When his mouth crushed hers, she nibbled his lips, tasted the tiniest droplet of his gorgeous blood and bucked as she scrabbled against his undulating back. He arched once more to reach her breast with his mouth, sucked strongly on her nipple, and orgasm exploded...


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