Son Of The Shadows
The Bayou, New Orleans
Isabelle.
—Exquisite warmth grasped him as he thrust into silken moistness. Gentle and yielding, creamy and sweet, the rhythm surged through him; pleasure rode him, pleasure; arching for it, grasping and gasping. Oranges and roses filled his nostrils. He was dizzy with the scent and drunk on the honey taste of femininity, sweet and delectable—
—ma vie, ma coeur, ma femme—
—as it all came roaring back through him—lust and desire, wanton appetite and greed—for more, to have it all, to take what he wanted for as long as he wanted even if it killed her—
Die giving to me! I will have you until you are nothing!
He heard Isabelle sobbing and felt her weight against him as she collapsed, and then was silent.
Jean-Marc de Devereaux, Guardian of the House of the Shadows, was back.
Not all of me, he thought, flooding with awareness as his eyelids flickered. Deep in the center of his soul, a huge chunk was missing, seized by Le Devourer. He felt it as keenly as if someone had cut out his heart. But the space was not empty. Darkness—evil—had flooded in to take its pl ... read full excerpt from: Son of the Shadows ebook
