Deamhan Chronicles #3
Release Date: February 11th, 2016
Deamhan Chronicles #3
Format: Print and E-Book
The death of prominent Deamhan elders has left a gaping hole in their society.
Amenirdis, the Queen of Limbo and the Dark Mother of Deamhan, is now loose in the world. Her plans for total annihilation of her kind rests on the blood of Maris and the Dark Curse tablet.
News of her release has also awaken the Dorvo Coven; vampires who consider themselves the arch enemies of Deamhan. One in particular hunts for the Dark Curse tablet with a means to exterminate every Deamhan on the face of the planet. In order to do so she must collect the broken Dark Curse tablet and the blood of Maris.
However, there are some Deamhan who won’t go down without a fight.
No one is safe. Not even the supernatural baddies who hide in the shadows of their dark underworld.
He wasn’t expecting what awaited him after she pulled back the thick velvet cloth. The vampire scent in the air wasn’t just leftover remnants of last night’s jubilee. On the dance floor he saw a group of Dorvo vampires, standing in a line, behind an empty chair. He suddenly recalled the conversation he had with Lambert about the coven.
“Am I interrupting something?”
“I warned you.” She folded her arms.
He suddenly regretted not heeding her advice.
“Lambert isn’t here. It’s just me and the boys.”
Quickly the Dorvo vampires moved forward, aiming to harm him. He dropped his bag. His eyes turned black followed by a burst of energy, allowing him to jump over his attackers with ease. He wrapped his forearm around a tall male and in one quick motion, snapped his neck and pushed the wobbling body toward the group.
He skittered back. “Your boys? Since when do you run in a pack?” Another male, with fangs fully shown, reached into his pocket and pulled out a sharp, polished wooden stake. “You’re not a Dorvo vamp, Alexis.” Remy didn’t expect this one, who looked like a punk reject, to throw the sharp object at his chest. Like a spear, it traveled through the air and he caught it before the keen edge met his skin. He spun it around in his grip.
Besides his Deamhan speed, he had another weapon at his disposal; but before he could attempt to use it, he felt a hard object connect with the back of his head, sending him to the ground. The stake broke loose from his grip and it slid along the dance floor, toward his attackers. He attempted to stand to his feet but something else—a strong force, pushed him back to the floor.
“Stop or I’ll kill you myself,” Alexis spoke.
It didn’t take long for him to put two and two together. She now joined with the Dorvo vampires, which meant that Lambert had also switched sides. The Dorvo vamp who held him down to the floor increased his pressure, making Remy snarl.
Alexis approached him. “I’ve waited a long time to see you get your ass kicked.” She picked up the stake.
The confrontation came to a complete standstill when a female voice, not belonging to Alexis, spoke out into the air.
“No one harm him. He’s mine.”
The voice brought back a slew of memories from days long gone; a time of betrayal, lust, excitement, and the worries he once had after his sire blessed him with immortality. The voice reminded him of his days in France long before he crossed the Atlantic to come to America. Lambert did mention a dark-haired beauty with different colored eyes meeting with The Brotherhood. It was then that Remy suspected she—Ruby—had come back into his life. It didn’t give him cause to worry…yet.
The Dorvo vamp removed his foot and Remy sat up. There, standing in the middle of the dance floor, she stood like a glowing statue. She had the same flowery scent, which attracted him years ago. Her skin still resembled her fabulous and flawless appearance. And her different colored eyes…what better way for him to fall in love with her all over again by becoming trapped within them?
Ruby placed her hands on her luxurious, full figured hips, and when she smiled, Remy felt obligated to return the gesture. “You still look delicious.” He stood to his feet. “As always.”
“And you, my dear bourgeoisie,” she said. “You look rather well.”