By Keri Arthur
Half vampire, half werewolf, Riley Jenson is familiar with what can ensue while vamps don’t play good with others. yet she’s by no means visible whatever like this: a sequence of brutal murders surrounding the most recent sizzling spot for vampire-human hookups—and the sufferers aren’t simply killed, they’re beheaded. Now Riley is launching into motion, toying with a seductive—and hugely suspicious—club proprietor, and discovering herself in the midst of one other secret: ladies being killed one after the other, with no hint of violence.
For Riley, fixing a number of cases—in a global going mad with human and vampire passions—would were tricky adequate. as a substitute she has jealous fanatics on her fingers: Kye Murphy, the amber-eyed werewolf who makes Riley’s wolf blood howl—and Quinn, the cool, stylish vamp who has over 1000 years’ adventure at pleasurable women’s wishes. whereas she’s busy juggling those horny beasts, Riley’s detective paintings takes a stunningly violent flip. discovering a assassin is now a question of lifestyles and demise. in particular because the killer has lengthy on account that chanced on her . . .
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Extra resources for Bound to Shadows (Riley Jensen, Guardian, Book 8)
The physician grunted and picked up Jane‧s wrist. He frowned and poked at her skin. “You must keep her warm. A little gruel and some wine, and best to keep quiet. ” Blood. She could see it, smell its metallic odor as it dripped into a basin, rich and dark. A small, involuntary moan escaped her lips. “Oh, Jane, does it hurt? Where? She has the headache, I believe,” Mrs. Bigg said. “Why, she is hardly able to speak, poor thing. ” The physician peered at Jane as though he was annoyed at being roused from his bed for such a triviality, a young woman beset by the vapors.
Jane stepped away, spilling a little punch onto one glove. “A pin is loose. I fear you may lose the sleeve. ” Jane put the glasses down onto the table. She looked around for Cassandra or Catherine, ready for a hasty retreat into the retiring room. They were nowhere in sight. If only she had allowed Cassandra to sew in the short sleeves in preparation for the evening, but no, she had assured her sister a few pins would do as well, and be less trouble when she restored the long sleeves the next day.
Arriving at the punch bowl, she instructed the servant there to pour her two glasses, and turned away to find herself face to face with the lady without the reflection. They both smiled and dipped their heads in acknowledgment, the meeting of two women a degree shy of being perfect strangers. “Pardon me, ma‧am,” the woman said. Her voice was deep and husky. She touched a gloved hand to Jane‧s shoulder. —Jane stepped away, spilling a little punch onto one glove. “A pin is loose. I fear you may lose the sleeve.