After enduring years of torture from the vampire horde, Lachlain MacRieve, leader of the Lykae Clan, is enraged to find the predestined mate he’s waited millennia for is a vampire. Or partly one. Emmaline Troy is a small, ethereal half Valkyrie/half vampire, who somehow begins to soothe the fury burning within him.
Sheltered Emmaline finally sets out to uncover the truth about her deceased parents—until a powerful Lykae claims her as his mate and forces her back to his ancestral Scottish castle. There, her fear of the Lykae—and their notorious dark desires—ebbs as he begins a slow, wicked seduction to sate her own dark cravings.
Yet when an ancient evil from her past resurfaces, will their desire deepen into a love that can bring a proud warrior to his knees and turn a gentle beauty into the fighter she was born to be?
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On an island in the Seine, against the nighttime backdrop of an ageless cathedral, the denizens of Paris came out to play. Emmaline Troy wound around fire-eaters, pickpockets, and chanteurs de rue. She meandered through the tribes of black-clad Goths who swarmed Notre Dame like it was the Gothic mother ship calling them home. And still she attracted attention.
The human males she passed turned their heads slowly to regard her, frowns in place, sensing something, but unsure. Probably some genetic memory from long ago that signaled her as their wildest fantasy or their darkest nightmare.
Emma was neither.
She was a co-ed -- a recent Tulane grad -- alone in Paris and hungry. Weary from another failed search for blood, she sank onto a rustic bench beneath a chestnut tree, eyes riveted to a waitress drawing espresso at a café. If only blood poured so easily, Emma thought. Yes, if it came warm and rich from a bottomless tap, then her stomach wouldn't be clenched in hunger at the mere idea.
Starving in Paris. And friendless. Was there ever such a predicament?
Couples strolling hand in hand along the gravel walk seemed to mock her loneliness. Was it just her, or did lovers look more adoringly at each other in this city? Especially in the springtime. Die, bastards.
She sighed. It wasn't their fault that they were bastards who should die.
She'd been spurred to enter this fray by the prospect of her echoing hotel room and the idea that she might find another blood pusher in the City of Light. Her former hookup had gone south -- literally -- fleeing Paris for Ibiza. He'd given little explanation for abandoning his job, saying only that with the "arrival of the risen king," some "serious epic shit" was brewing in "gay Paree." Whatever that meant.
As a vampire, she was a member of the Lore, that stratum of beings who'd convinced humans they existed only in imagination. Yet though the Lore was thick here, Emma had been unable to replace her pusher. Any creatures she could scout out to ask fled her solely because she was a vampire. They scurried without knowing that she wasn't even a full-blooded one, nor that Emma was a wuss who'd never bitten another living being. As her fierce adoptive aunts loved to tell everyone, "Emma cries her pink tears if she dusts a moth's wings."
Emma had accomplished nothing during this trip that she'd insisted on taking. Her quest to uncover information about her deceased parents -- her Valkyrie mother and her unknown vampire father -- was a failure. A failure that would culminate in a call to her aunts to get them to retrieve her. Because she couldn't feed herself. Pitiful. She sighed. She'd be razzed about this for another seventy years --
She heard a crash, and before she even had time to feel bad for the waitress getting docked, another crash and then another followed. She tilted her head in curiosity -- just as a table umbrella across the walk shot fifteen feet up to be batted high in the sky, fluttering all the way to the Seine. A cruise boat honked and Gallic curses erupted.
Half-lit by the walk's torchlights, a towering man turned over café tables, artists' easels, and book stands selling century-old pornography. Tourists screamed and fled in the wake of destruction. Emma shot to her feet with a gasp, looping her satchel over her shoulder.
He was cutting a path directly to her, his black trench coat trailing behind him. His size and his unnaturally fluid movements made her wonder if he could possibly be human. His hair was thick and long, concealing half his face, and several days' growth of beard shadowed his jaw.
He pointed a shaking hand at her. "You," he growled.
She jerked glances over both of her shoulders looking for the unfortunate you he was addressing. Her. Holy shite, this madman had settled on her.
He turned his palm up and beckoned her to come to him -- as if he was confident she would.
"Uh, I-I don't know you," she squeaked, trying to back up, but her legs immediately met the bench.
He continued stalking her, ignoring the tables between them, tossing them aside like toys instead of varying his direct pursuit of her. Furious intent burned in his pale blue eyes. She could sense his rage more sharply as he neared, unsettling her, because her kind were considered the predators in the night -- never the prey. And because, at heart, she was a coward.
"Come." He bit out the word as though with difficulty and motioned for her again.
Eyes wide, she shook her head, then leapt backward over the bench, twisting in the air. She landed facing away from him and began speeding down the quay. She was weak, more than two days without blood, but terror made her quick as she crossed the Archevêché Bridge to exit the island.
Three . . . four blocks covered. She chanced a look behind her. Didn't see him. Had she lost him -- ? Sudden glaring music from her purse made her cry out.
Who in the hell had programmed the Crazy Frog ring tone into her cell phone? Her eyes narrowed. Aunt Regin. The world's most immature immortal, who looked like a siren and behaved like a frat pledge.
Cell phones in their coven were for dire emergency only. Ringers would disturb their hunting in the back alleys of New Orleans, and even a vibration would be enough to trigger a twitching ear in a low creature.
She flipped it open. Speak of the devil: Regin the Radiant.
"Little busy right now," Emma snapped, taking another peek over her shoulder.
"Drop your things. Don't take time to pack. Annika wants you at the executive airport immediately. You're in danger."
Click. That wasn't a warning -- that was narration.
She'd ask the details once she was on the plane. As if she'd needed a reason to return home. Just the mention of danger and she would scamper back to her coven, to her Valkyrie aunts who would kill anything that threatened her and keep malice at bay.
As she tried to remember her way to the airport where she'd landed, the rain started to fall, warm and light at first -- April lovers still laughing as they ran under awnings -- but swiftly turning to pounding cold. She came to a crowded avenue, feeling safer as she wound through traffic. She dodged cars with their wipers and horns going full-force. She didn't see her pursuer.
With only the satchel slung around her neck, she traveled quickly, miles passing beneath her feet before she spied an open park and then the airfield just beyond it. She could see the diffused air around the jet engines as they warmed, could see the shades on every window already drawn tight. Almost there.
Emma convinced herself she'd lost him, because she was fast. She was also adept at convincing herself of things that might not be -- good at pretending. She could pretend she took classes at night by choice, and that blushing didn't make her thirsty --
A vicious growl sounded. Her eyes widened, but she didn't turn back, just sprinted across the field. She felt claws sink into her ankle a second before she was dragged to the muddy ground and thrown onto her back. A hand covered her mouth, though she'd been trained not to scream.
"Never run from one such as me." Her attacker didn't sound human. "You will no' get away. And we like it." His voice was guttural like a beast's, breaking, yet his accent was . . . Scottish?
As she peered up at him through the rain, he examined her with eyes that were golden in color one moment, then flickering that eerie blue the next. No, not human.
Up close, she could see his features were even, masculine. A strong chin and jaw complemented the chiseled planes. He was beautiful, so much so that she thought he had to be a fallen angel. Possible. How could she rule out anything?
The hand that had been covering her mouth roughly grasped her chin. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on her lips -- on her barely noticeable fangs. "No," he choked out. "No' possible. . . ." He yanked her head side to side, running his face down her neck, smelling her, then growled in fury, "Goddamn you."
When his eyes turned blue sharply, she cried out, her breath seeming to leave her body.
"Can you trace?" he grated as though speech was difficult. "Answer me!"
She shook her head, uncomprehending. Tracing was how vampires teleported, disappearing and reappearing in thin air. Then he knows I'm a vampire?
"N-no." She'd never been strong or skilled enough. "Please." She blinked against the rain, pleading with her eyes. "You have the wrong woman."
"Think I'd know you. Make sure, if you insist." He raised a hand -- to touch her? Strike her? She fought, hissing desperately.
A callused palm grasped the back of her neck, his other hand clenching her wrists as he bent down to her neck. Her body jerked from the feel of his tongue against her skin. His mouth was hot in the chill, wet air, making her shudder until her muscles knotted. He groaned while kissing her, his hand squeezing her wrists hard. Below her skirt, drops of rain tracked down her thighs, shocking her with cold.
"Don't do this! Please . . ." When her last word ended with a whimper, he seemed to come out of a trance, his brows drawing together as his eyes met hers, but he didn't release her hands.
He flicked his claw down her blouse and sliced it and the flimsy bra beneath open, then slowly brushed the halves past her breasts. She struggled, but it was useless against his strength. He studied her with a greedy gaze as rain splattered down, stinging her naked breasts. She was shivering uncontrollably.
His pain was so sharp it nauseated her. He could take her or he could tear open her unprotected belly and kill her. . . .
Instead he ripped open his own shirt, then placed his huge palms against her back to draw her to his chest. He groaned when their skin touched, and electricity seemed to flash through her. Lightning split the sky.
He rumbled foreign words against her ear. She felt they were . . . tender words, making her think she'd lost her mind. She went limp, her arms hanging while he shuddered against her, his lips so hot in the pouring rain as he ran them down her neck, across her face, even brushing them over her eyelids. There he knelt, clutching her; there she lay, boneless and dazed, as she watched the lightning slash above them.
His hand cradled the back of her head as he moved her to face him.
He seemed torn as he watched her with some fierce emotion -- she'd never been looked at so . . . consumingly. Confusion overwhelmed her. Would he attack or let her go? Let me go. . . .
A tear slipped down her face, warmth streaking down amidst the drops of rain.
The look disappeared. "Blood for tears?" he roared, clearly revolted by her pink tears. He turned away as if he couldn't stand to look upon her, then blindly swatted at her shirt to close it. "Take me to your home, vampire."
"I-I don't live here," she said in a strangled tone, staggered by what had just occurred, and by the fact that he knew what she was.
"Take me to where you stay," he ordered, finally facing her as he stood before her.
"No," she amazed herself by saying.
He, too, looked surprised. "Because you doona want me to stop? Good. I'll take you here on the grass on your hands and knees" -- he lifted her easily until she was kneeling -- "till well after the sun rises."
He must have seen her resignation because he hauled her to her feet and pushed at her to get her moving. "Who stays with you?"
My husband, she wanted to snap. The linebacker who's going to kick your ass. Yet she couldn't lie, even now, and never would have had the nerve to provoke him anyway. "I am alone."
"Your man lets you travel by yourself?" he asked over the downpour. His voice was beginning to sound human again. When she didn't answer, he said with a sneer, "You've a careless male for yourself. His loss."
She stumbled in a pothole and he gently steadied her, then seemed angry with himself that he'd helped her. But when he led them in front of a car a moment later, he threw her out of the way, leaping back at the sound of the horn. He swiped at the side of the car, claws crumpling the metal like tinfoil, sending it skidding. When it finally stopped, the engine block dropped to the street with a thud. The driver threw open the door, dived for the street, then darted away.
Mouth open in shock, she frantically scrambled backward, realizing her captor looked as though he'd . . . never seen a car.
He crossed to her, looming over her. In a low, deadly tone, he grated, "I only hope you run from me again."
He snatched her hand and again lifted her to her feet. "How much farther?"
With a limp finger, she pointed out the Crillon on Place de la Concorde.
He gave her a look of pure hatred. "Your kind always had money." His tone was scathing. "Nothing's changed." He knew she was a vampire. Did he know who or what her aunts were? He must -- otherwise how could Regin have known to warn her about him? How could he know her coven was well-off?
After ten minutes of her being dragged across avenues, they pushed past the doorman of the hotel, garnering stares as they entered the palatial lobby. At least the lights were dimmed. She pulled her soaked jacket over her ruined blouse and kept her head down, thankful that she'd braided her hair over her ears.
He released the vise-grip on her arm in front of these people. He must know that she wouldn't attract attention. Never scream, never draw the attention of humans. They were always more dangerous in the end than any of the thousands of creatures of the Lore.
When he draped his heavy arm across her shoulders as if they were together, she glanced up at him from under a wet lock of hair. Though he walked with his broad shoulders back, like he owned this place, he was examining everything as if it was new to him. The phone ringing made him tense. The revolving doors had done the same. Though he hid it well, she could tell he was unfamiliar with the elevator and hesitated to enter. Inside the lift, his size and his energy made the generous space seem cramped.
The short walk down the hall to her room was the longest of her life, as she devised and rejected plan after plan of escape. She hesitated outside the door, taking her time retrieving the key card from the inch-deep puddle in the bottom of her purse.
"Key," he demanded.
With a deep exhalation, she handed it to him. When his eyes narrowed, she thought he was about to demand "key" again, but he studied the door lever and gave it back to her. "You do it."
With a shaking hand, she slid it in. The mechanized buzz and then the click of the lock were like knells to her.
Once inside her room, he checked every inch of it as though to make sure she was in fact alone. He searched under the brocade-covered bed, then tore back the heavy silk drapes to reveal one of the best views in Paris. He moved like an animal, with aggression at every turn, though she'd noticed he favored one leg.
When he slowly limped to her in the hallway, her eyes widened and she eased backward. Still he continued toward her, studying her, weighing . . . before his gaze settled on her lips.
"I've waited a long time for you."
He continued to behave as if he knew her. She would never forget a man like him.
"I need you. No matter what you are. And I'll wait no longer."
At his baffling words, her body inexplicably softened, relaxing. Her claws curled as if to clutch him to her, and her fangs receded to ready for his kiss. Frantic, she rapped her nails against the wall behind her and tapped her tongue against her left fang. Her defenses remained dormant. She was terrified of him. Why wasn't her body?
He placed his hands against the wall on either side of her face. Unhurriedly, he leaned in, brushing his mouth against hers. He groaned from the small contact and pressed harder, flicking her lips with his tongue. She froze, not knowing what to do.
Against her mouth, he growled, "Kiss me back, witch, while I decide if I should spare your life."
With a cry, she moved her lips against his. When he stilled completely as if to force her to do all the work, she slanted her head and brushed his lips lightly again.
"Kiss me like you want to live."
She did. Not because she wanted to live overmuch, but because she thought he would make sure her death was slow and torturing. No pain. Never pain.
When she darted her tongue against his as he had done to her, he groaned and took over, cupping her neck and head so he could hold her as though for the taking. His tongue stroked hers desperately, and she was shocked to find it was . . . not unpleasant. How many times had she dreamed about her first kiss, even knowing she would never receive one? But she was. Now.
She didn't even know his name.
When she began shivering again, he stopped and broke away. "You're cold."
She was freezing. Being low on blood did that to her. Being tackled into the wet earth and soaked through hadn't helped. But she feared that wasn't why she shivered. "Y-yes."
He raked his gaze over her, then gave her a disgusted look. "And filthy. Mud all over you."
"But you . . ." She trailed off under his lethal glare.
He found the bathroom, yanked her inside, then tilted his head at the fixtures. "Clean yourself."
"P-privacy?" she croaked.
Amusement. "You have none." He leaned his shoulder against the wall and crossed his muscled arms, as if awaiting a show. "Now, undress for me and let me see what's mine."
Mine? Bewildered, she was about to protest again, but he jerked his head up as though he'd heard something, then bolted out of the room. She slammed the bathroom door, locking herself in -- another laughable gesture -- then turned on the shower.
She sank down on the floor, head in her hands, and wondered how she would get away from this lunatic. The Crillon boasted foot-thick walls between the rooms -- a rock band had stayed next door to her and she'd never heard them. Of course, she didn't envision calling for anyone -- never scream for a human's help -- but she was contemplating digging her way out through the bathroom wall.
Soundproof walls, ten floors up. The luxurious room that had been a haven, protecting her from the sun and nosy humans, was now a gilded cage. She was trapped by some being, and Freya only knew what.
How could she get away when she had no one to help her?
Lachlain heard a scarcely squeaking wheel, smelled meat, and limped for the room's door. In the hallway, an old man pushing a cart yelped with fright at the sight of him, then stared wordlessly as Lachlain snatched two covered plates from the cart.
Lachlain kicked the door closed. Found steaks and devoured them. Then pounded a hole in the wall at a sharp memory.
Flexing his now bleeding fingers, he sat on the edge of the strange bed, in a strange place and time. He was weary and his leg pained him after running the vampire down. He pulled up his stolen pants and inspected his regenerating leg. The flesh was sunken and wasted.
He tried to push away memories of that loss. But what other recent memories did he have? Only those of being burned to death repeatedly. For what he now knew had been a hundred and fifty years. . . .
He shuddered, sweating, and retched between his knees, but kept himself from vomiting the food he needed so badly. Instead, he ripped his claws through a table by the bed, just preventing himself from destroying everything in sight.
In the last week since his escape, he would be doing well, focusing on his hunt for her and his recovery, seeming to acclimate; then something would put him in a rage. He'd broken into a manor to steal clothes -- then destroyed everything inside. Anything he didn't recognize and understand, destroyed.
Tonight, he'd been weak, thinking unclearly, his leg still regenerating, and still he'd gone to his knees when he'd finally picked up her scent once more.
But instead of the mate he'd expected, he'd found a vampire. A small, fragile female vampire. He hadn't heard of a female being alive in centuries. The males must have been secretive about them, cloistering them all these years. Apparently the Horde hadn't killed off all of their own women, as the Lore told.
And Christ help him, his instincts still said this pale-haired, ethereal creature was . . . his.
The Instinct screamed inside him to touch her, to claim her. He'd waited for so long. . . .
He put his head in his hands, trying not to lash out again -- to get the beast back in its cage. But how could fate rob him once more? For more than a thousand years, he'd searched for her.
And he'd found her in what he despised with a hatred so virulent he couldn't control it.
A vampire. The way she existed disgusted him. Her weakness disgusted him. Her pale body was too small, too thin, and looked like she'd break with her first stiff fucking.
He'd waited a millennium for a helpless parasite.
He heard the squeaking wheel, going much faster past his door, but his hunger was sated for the first time since the ordeal began. With food like tonight's, he would shake off any physical trace of the torture. But his mind . . .
He'd been with the female for an hour. Yet it had been an hour during which he'd only had to push the beast back twice. Which was a considerable improvement, since his entire existence was of constant bleakness interrupted only by sharp rages. Everyone said a Lykae's mate could soothe his any woe -- if she really was his, she had her bloody work cut out for her.
She couldn't be. He must be delusional. He seized on that idea. The last thing he'd regretted before they forced him to the fire was that he'd never found her. Perhaps this was a damaged mind playing tricks. Of course, that was it. He'd always pictured his mate as a buxom redheaded lass with wolven blood who could handle his lusts, who would revel in the raw ferocity with him -- not this fearful wisp of a vampire. Damaged mind. Of course.
He limped to the door to the bathing chamber and found it locked. He shook his head as he broke the knob easily, then entered a room so thick with steam he could hardly spy her balled up against the opposite wall. He lifted her up by her arms, scowling to find her still wet and dirty.
"You've no' cleaned yourself?" When she only stared down at the ground, he demanded, "Why?"
She shrugged miserably.
He glanced at the cascade of water within a glass chamber, opened the door, and ran his hand under it. Now, this he could use. He set her away, then stripped.
Her eyes widened, focused on his cock, and she covered her mouth. You'd think she'd never seen one. He let her look her fill, even leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest while she stared.
Under her rapt gaze he grew hard, his length distending -- his body, at least, must think she was his -- until she gasped and lowered her gaze. His wasted leg caught her attention, seeming to startle her even more. That alone embarrassed him, and he stepped into the water to break her stare.
He closed his eyes with pleasure as the water ran over him, noticing that it did nothing to quell his erection. He sensed her tense as though to run, and opened his eyes. If he'd been stronger, he would've hoped she would try it. "Looking at the door like that? I'll catch you before you make it from this room."
She turned back, saw he'd grown harder, and seemed to choke on a cry.
"Take off your clothes, vampire."
"I-I will not!"
"Do you want to come in here with them on?"
"Preferable to being naked with you!"
He felt relaxed under the water, even magnanimous after the excellent food. "Then let's make a bargain. You grant me a boon and I'll return one."
She looked up at him from under a curl freed from her tight braids. "What do you mean?"
He put his hands on each side of the door and leaned forward out of the water. "I want you in here, unclothed. What do you want of me?"
"Nothing of value equal to that," she whispered.
"You'll be with me indefinitely. Until I decide to let you go. Do you no' want to contact your . . . people?" He spat the word. "I'm sure you have much value to them, being so rare." In fact, keeping her from her vampire kin would just be the beginning of his revenge. He knew they'd find the idea of her being fucked repeatedly by a Lykae as revolting as his clan would find it. She nibbled her red bottom lip with one tiny fang, and his anger flared again. "I doona have to grant you anything! I could just take you in here and then in the bed."
"A-and you won't if I agree to be in there with you?"
"Come willingly and I will no'," he lied.
"What will you . . . do?"
"I want to put my hands on you. Learn you. And I'll want your hands on me."
In a voice so soft he could scarcely hear her, she asked, "Will you hurt me?"
"Touch you. No' hurt you."
Her delicate blond brows drew together as she weighed this. Then, as though in great pain, she bent down to her boots, unfastening them with a buzzing sound. She stood and grasped the edges of her jacket and ruined blouse, but she seemed unable to proceed. She shook wildly and her blue eyes were stark. But she was agreeing -- in a flash of insight, he knew she wasn't agreeing because of any reason he could fathom. Her eyes seemed so expressive, yet he couldn't read her.
When he loomed closer, she peeled the wet jacket and blouse away, then the shredded undergarment beneath them, hastily draping a thin arm over her breasts. Shy? When he'd seen the orgies of blood the vampires reveled in?
"Please. I-I don't know who you think I am, but -- "
"I think" -- before she could blink, he'd ripped her skirt clean from her body and tossed it to the ground -- "that I should at least know your name before I set to touchin' you."
She shook harder if possible, her arm tightening over her breasts.
He studied her, his gaze drinking her in. Her skin was perfect alabaster covered only by her strange pantalettes, the black silk that was like a V on her body. The front was transparent jet lace and teased against the blond curls between her legs. He remembered his two fleeting tastes of her skin in the howling rain and unnatural lightning, and his cock pulsed, the head growing slick with anticipation. Other men would find her exquisite. The vampires would. Human males would kill for her.
Her trembling body was too small, but her eyes . . . wide and blue like the daytime sky she would never witness.
"M-my name is Emmaline."
"Emmaline," he growled, slowly reaching forward one claw to slice away the silk. Copyright ©2006 by Kresley Cole
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
I was looking for a new paranormal romance series and this one kept popping up, but I would take one look at the cover art and invariably say "NO Way." Finally, I got a little desperate and broke down and bought the thing. I have never been more shocked in my life...I literally could not put it down after the first five pages. I was utterly captivated from the first scene. I have since become an Immortals after Dark Series FANATIC. I am impatiently waiting for the next ones due out in November and January. Completely cliché to say "don't judge a book by its cover", but in this case the old adage has proven correct. I hope you come to love Nix as much as I do...I need to reread and get all of the hilarious T-shirt quotes.
I had this ebook saved in my nook for awhile and was not all that excited to get started reading it. Probably because the cover looked so cheesy. I had it around in case I get an urge to read paranormal romance. Boy am I sorry I waited. The story is engaging, thrilling and far better than a lot of the books in this genre these days. Kresley Cole is an amazing writer. Lachlain's quiver factor is way up there and you can't help but cheer on Emma as she found herself through this wild ride. Entertaining and sexy as hell, I highly recommend this book to lovers of paranormal romance.
This is my first time reading Kresley Cole and the book was pretty good. I read it in two days. I did get irritated with the characters on occasion. The heroine is timid, shy and secretive while the hero is bossy and arrogant. He-man hear me roar type. He showed complete lack of regard for the heroine even though she was his mate and his instinct is to protect her above all others. The supporting characters did everything they could to separate the two even knowing that the heroine was his mate. The different factions of what Cole calls the Lore are at odds with each other and no one group seems to mingle in harmony in any way. This makes every meeting between different species a confrontation and I just got annoyed reading about hisses at each other. Other than that the plot was pretty good, even though I felt like some of the history of the Lore could have been explained more in depth. I would recommend this book to others that like paranormal romances. I also hope that in the rest of the series author tempers down the confrontational attitudes of the different species within the Lore and allows the characters to have a conversation without bloodshed.
I first saw this book over a year ago picked it up read the back and put it back down. I just couldn't get my mind around the story line. Then about two month ago I needed something new to read and this book popped up again so I read a lot of reviews and decided to buy it. It sat on my book case for a month. I finley picked it up and started to read it and WOW I could not put it down it only took my about aday to read I'm sorry I waited so long but now Kresley Cole is one of my new favorites. This is a must read.
I love love...LOVE this series! It's romantic, sexy and out of this world. A Hunger Like No Other is book 1 in Kresley Cole's Immortals After Dark series. Ladies you will love reading this book because the adventure continues to the next book...you will see the same characters in each book but they are like cameos...lol! In the first book is about Lachlain MacRieve, leader of the Lykae Clan & Emmaline Troy, half Vampire/half Valjyrie. Lachlain has been in a hellish prison of fire for 150 years by the Horde Vampires. While he was there burning year after year his one thought before that was to find his mate and when he picks up his scent under the grounds of Paris he rips himself free to go after her. Emmaline journeys to Paris to do research on her parents. She has been sheltered all her live and finally gets the courage to go abroad alone only to clash with Lachlain. Can Lachlain help Emmaline with more then her quest to truly find herself? Is Emmaline be the lost mate that Lachlain has been looking for even through they are considered mortal enemies? This sexy book will have you wanting more!
Took me a long time to read this because of the cover. The cover is absolutely, positivity horrible...However, the book inside was great...I luv'd it! Started off weird, ended up fabulous!
This is the first book in Kresly Cole's Immortals after Dark series. I've read the whole series and constantly check dates for the next one. The characters are fun. These books will have you laughing out loud. Reagan is my favorite by far and I look forward to her story. These books are hot and steamy. The Alpha males are yummy. The females are strong and don't stand around screaming. They kick butt! Now that I've boasted the series I'll get to this book. Lachlain is the hero but boy is he pissed off. He has been tortured for years by the vampire hoard. He's a Lykae and scents his mate. Scenting his mate gives him a surge of strength that helps him escape his imprisonment. So his mood doesn't improve upon meeting Emmaline,his mate,because uh oh she is a vampire. How could he be mated to a vampire. A creature he hates. Emmaline is part vampire part valkyrie. She has been raised by her valkyrie coven and only drinks blood from a bag. In fact she has never met another vampire. She has had a very sheltered life until Lachlain shows up. Lachlain is angry and treats Emmaline horribly at first. As he learns more about her he starts falling for her pretty fast. Emmaline is drawn to him but he scares her. They each lust for each other and fight it. Oh does it get hot too. Crank up the AC. Just sayin..When Lachlain realizes what an ass he's been he discovers he might lose her.He doesn't care if she's part vampire. He loves his little halfling. Emmaline's mystery parentage puts her in danger and Lachlain's horrendous past gives her the anger and backbone to earn herself a new name in the book of valkyrie. She'll no longer be Emmaline the Timid.
Had I known this book was so good. I would have coughed the money for it years ago. I loved the characters and the pace of the story. I needed a book to past the time, i thought it would take me a few days to read it. Needless to say, i finished in 1 day. I really could NOT put it down. I enjoy good storytelling and that's what this is. I will be sure to get completely caught up within the next 2 weeks with the entire IMMORTALS AFTER DARK series.
I got to say that when i saw the cover i was a little skeptical. lol i mean look at it. Typical blond young and naive girl and typical tall dark and obviously dangerously handsome "man". But when i cracked that book open and smelled the sweet scent of those pages, i was swept away. I so bladly wanted to see Lachlain become a good guy and make Emma see that he is completely in love with her and that there is no other for either of them. Their connection though very sexual surpasses everything. Even their age. Even their species. I wanted to be Emma and to have some one like Lachlain thats how into the story i was. And i wanted to slap Emma a few times lol just to get her to surrender to him, to give herself comepletely over to his hunger for her. OMG!! I read this book with out stopping to do anything else. I love it. Added it to my growing Library- Kresley Cole has become one of my - few - favorite authors. I might just start writing myself.
the story is very heartwarming..and unbelievably sexy!...it makes you dream of having your own man like Lachlain. Kresley Cole writes stories that will leave you breathless and out of your mind. It's totally gonna kepp you up in bed just reading this romantic and sizzling sexy book..
Lachlain went through great lenghts to keep her Emma, unbelievable it worked out when Emma found out that this Lykae is like no one else, no-one else can soothe her inner desires.. Kresley Cole's way of writing the "sexy" part is totally hands-down! its not offbeat or over the top...
This book is fantastic! if you want to have a good night sleep..better read this and u'll be dreaming about Lachlain and wishing he's yours!..makes you escape reality..love it!
This isn't the typical cliched book where two preternatural people are meant to be together and the male says 'oh, i'm a deeply troubled man who needs to dominate my woman' and the woman falls in love after 5 minutes and starts being easy on him. The plot is well outlined and the characters are all well-developed. The couple actually goes through rocky moments and the heroine is a surprise, all meek and vunerable, but ultimately finds herself.
He searched for his soul mate for a millenium before the vampire horde captured him in the catacombs below Paris. However, after a seemingly endless captivity, Lachlain MacRieve senses the scent of his Beloved One this gives the leader of the Lykae Clan the incentive to escape, which he does. --- Lachlain¿s euporhoria turns into a rage when he realizes the irony that fate has wrought to him. His chosen mate is a hybred vampire-valkyrie, two natural enemies merged inside her soul and body. Even worse following his abduction of Emmaline, he realizes she lacks the strength of either species. Instead she behaves like a frightened rabbit, which Emmaline is as she has heard horror tales about the torture and violence employed by the Lykae. However as scared as she is, Emmaline finds courage in her attraction to her chief kidnapper Lachlain. Her fortitude makes him realize that his beloved has an inner strength few contain. As the soulmates fall in love in his remote Scottish castle, the vampire horde seek both of them at the same time her irate valkyrie relatives seek to liberate her. --- Romantic fantasy fans will appreciate the return to Cole¿s world (see the novella ¿The Warlord Wants Forever¿ in PLAYING EASY TO GET) as this character driven star-crossed lovers tale is so much fun to read. The action-packed story line plays out on three levels: the lead couple¿s seductively sexual encounter while falling in love in his castle her Valkyrie aunt coming to her rescue and the vampires wanting to kill him and abduct her for her different blood type. A HUNGER LIKE NO OTHER is a superb thriller that will allow NO REST FOR THE WICKED as this is a fast sensational read. --- Harriet Klausner
I am on the third book of the series now. I like the series over all, I like the way the characters are all conected in some way, and its a great story about two beings finding love in the worst situations, but there are a few things that i didnt like so much, 1 the characters are a little too stubborn, they wont admit to what they really want and although that makes for some good suspense..... this just draggs out a little too long. And 2 all the books seem to have the same plot just different characters, I feel like im reading the same book over and over again. There are some differences in the characters of course but its ultimately the same thing in the end.
This whole book series is just amazing! If yourlooking for a great romance/badass book then look no more!
This is the type of book that just keeps getting better the farther you are into it!
This series is well written, each character evolves into the next story, each staying true to original and did I say sexy, erotic and just plain HOT
I started her series with the novella in Playing Easy to Get and love her Immortals After Dark Series. Have read them all and more then once. Just got her latest. I have also read her other books and have enjoyed them all.
Great series; every book is five star.
I have read this first book of the series 5 times. When I run out of things in my library I always go back to it. I love it.
This was a fun book for people who enjoy paranormal romance. The characters are hot and the lore world is very interesting. You won't want to put it down. You'll fall in love with it. Besides, how can you not fall in love with a Scot.
This novel was a great introduction to the world of Kresley Cole and Immortals After Dark! Don't let the cover of this book fool you into thinking that it's just another cheesy romance that's only full of sex, sex, and more sex. This book is just the opposite of that and I could not put the book until I finished it! Kresley Cole wisely evolved the characters before letting the readers see them as a pair. Lachlain MacRieve is a tortured soul, physically and mentally, when he found his mate, Emmaline Troy. Throughout the novel, he goes through the challenge of accepting Emma as his mate and his only salvation to achieving a mental recovery. Emma, on the other hand, is an extremely innocent and is in shock throughout this book in having Lachlain by her side. But Emma finds that Lachlain is what she needed in order to find out who she really is and who her father is. Their journey as a pair was quite amusing and you could not help but cheer them on and hope that they will live "happily ever after." Once again, this was a great introduction into the world of Immortals After Dark and just the catalysis I needed to continue on to the next book in the series.
All I can say is the meadow scene has been etched in my brain forever! Where is my werewolf with such strong charisma! I need a man like this and if he exists OH Yeah! Yummy and what a start to a wonderful series!
I, too, like some of the others who have left reviews passed by this book many times in my search to find something new to read beacause of the cover. But I have to say this book, when I finally did purchase it, held my attention the whole time and I read it in 2 days! This book has a great story with (a lot of) hot romance!