Book Title:Forged in Fire
Author:Juliette Cross
Genre:Paranormal Romance
Release Date:January 27, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
She never knew this demon world existed. Now she just wants to survive it.
Genevieve Drake never needed a man to come to her rescue. Not until the night of her twentieth birthday, when some dude nearly chokes her to death in an alley behind a New Orleans Goth club. And a hot stranger splits the guy in half, rips a monster from inside, and incinerates it into ash.
The hunky rescuer? Jude Delacroix—Dominus Daemonum, Master of Demons, now her guardian, whether she likes it or not. But she’s seriously beginning to like it.
Her would-be murderer turns out to be only the first of many minions of the demon prince, Danté, who has all kinds of lascivious and sadistic plans. Which means when the formidably beautiful Jude offers his protection, Genevieve has no problem accepting it.
For Jude and his fellow demon hunters tell her she is a Vessel, one who is born to serve the Light, but can be corrupted into a weapon of darkness. And to survive, she must trust a man whose unearthly eyes promise heaven…but whose powers unleash hell.
Warning: Contains a dark and brooding demon hunter who harbors even darker secrets, a snarky heroine who’s being hunted by every demon in the underworld, and a sadistic demon prince with a fancy for violent sexual encounters.
The
music pumped hard and loud, wavering between old-school classics and modern
tunes. Mindy suddenly squealed with delight. I knew why without asking. The
Cure’s song “Fascination Street” started thrumming all around us. As much of a
Barbie Doll as she was, Mindy had eclectic taste in music, and anything by The
Cure required complete adoration.
Taking
my beer with me, I followed her back onto the floor, squeezing through the
sweaty bodies.
Unfortunately,
Steven did too. Persistence—I suppose that is a virtue in some people. Right
now, it was just annoying. I sipped on the Abita to avoid talking to him and
moved to the slow beat. Mindy and David shuffled off together, locked in an
embrace. I feigned interest, pretending to listen to Steven yammer about
who-knows-what, but all I wanted was to peer behind him at Mr. Rugged and
Beautiful.
He
hadn’t moved, still watching from his solitary post with hooded eyes. Actually,
from here, I couldn’t really tell if his eyes were directed at me or simply in
my general vicinity.
Oh
crap! Here came sandy-haired gyrating boy again, more earnest than ever. His
hands found my hips, quickly moving south.
“Back
off!” I shouted over the music, elbowing him in the ribs. Not too hard, but
hard enough to make the average guy get the hint. He didn’t.
“Dude,
did you hear her? Back off!” Steven stepped in.
For
once, I was thankful he was present. Steven grabbed the guy’s shoulder, but
Sandyhair pushed Steven so hard he fell through the crowd into the DJ’s stage.
Other dancers sidestepped and turned back to their partners, probably thinking
him drunk. Sandy-hair swiveled to me. A cold expression shuddered across his
face. I stepped back, but he caught my wrist in an unbreakable grip. He pulled
me hard against his chest, knocking my bottle to the floor, pinning my arms
under his. He grinned. Primal fear flared inside me. Something was very wrong
here. Again, a flash of red skimmed across his eyes. Was I already tipsy from
half a bottle of beer?
“Let
her go,” a deep voice rumbled directly behind me.
Sandy-hair
tore his gaze from mine. One glance at the deep-voiced person over my shoulder,
and shock skittered over his expression. Or was it fear? He bared his teeth
like a cornered animal, then let me go, backing away toward the exit of the
club.
I
twisted around, looking up, way up, into the face of Mr. R-and-B standing a
head taller than me. I was five eight and wearing boots. Dark eyes, so dark
they were almost black. An unreadable expression set in harsh lines. I couldn’t
form a coherent thought, much less a sentence. From far away, he was stunning.
Up close, I couldn’t even breathe. He gazed down at me for what seemed like an
eternity while lights and music pumped around us. Captivating. Hypnotizing. Was
he putting me under some spell? Why couldn’t I think straight? My mouth hung
agape as I tried to regain composure.
Finally,
he spoke. “Are you all right?”
Me? No! I’m about to need resuscitation
from lack of oxygen. Preferably mouth-to-mouth. And from you, please.
“Yes.
I’m fine,” I whispered, clearing my throat.
All
of a sudden, it was very hot in here. Where was that beer?
He
stared at me a moment longer. He appeared to be somewhere in his late twenties
or early thirties, but something in those dark depths made him seem so much
older. His olive skin reminded me of warmer climates; not here in Cajun country
but somewhere distant, exotic. Wavy dark brown hair hung loosely across his
forehead and to the nape of his neck. He hadn’t shaved recently, and man, oh
man did I want to run my fingers across that scruffy jawline. I realized I was
staring, no, gawking at him. A ghost of a smile flickered across his face.
Without saying anything else, he pivoted and headed for the exit, which was
quite a pleasant view.
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