release: August 24, 2010
book 10 in Immortals After Dark series.
A dangerous demon she can't resist...
Malkom Slaine: tormented by his sordid past and racked by vampiric hungers, he's pushed to the brink by the green-eyed beauty under his guard.
A maddening witch he aches to claim...
Carrow Graie: hiding her own sorrows, she lives only for the next party or prank. Until she meets a tortured warrior worth saving.
Trapped together in a savage prison...
For them to survive, Malkom must unleash both the demon and vampire inside him. When he becomes the nightmare his own people feared, will he lose the woman he craves body and soul?
Kresley Cole is an evol woman! I just hopped over to her website and found a loooooong, but never long enough, excerpt that made my addiction to the IAD series itch. Yet how many days do I have to wait for the full tale? Like a thousand....or something. Hey, it certainly feels that way! Actually my first full day as a woman of *whispers* thirty-four is spent with Demon From The Dark. Or at least, it better be or else I'd go stir-fry crazy. The twenty-third of August is my birthday and I'll be in denial of the numbers *looks up for some divine intervention* – which means...Dear Nïx; a b-day pressie of a signed copy of Demon From The Dark would make me squeeeeeeeee in joy and would definitely be a band-aid on the thirty-four candles on my b-day cake *grins innocently* Amen.
So who else is waiting for the tale of Malkom Slaine and Carrow Graie? I must say that since I didn’t know much about either I remained somewhat patient, but after reading this excerpt it definitely got my blood pumping and I want more of this couple! I could not resist and share two quotes from the excerpt but for the full shot of crack, go –here-
So now the countdown has commenced…T minus…
Description: Light blue eyes. Defined musculature. Over six and a half feet tall. Black horns, curving back from just above his ears. Identifying marks: A large, winding tattoo on his right flank, typical demon piercings.
Background: Born more than four hundred years ago to a prostitute demon mother. Father unknown.
Just as she dragged the weapon into the brush behind her, the attacker plowed into the clearing. Carrow craned her head up. And up . . . She lost her breath.
The being's body was nearly seven feet tall and splashed with blood. Large horns curved back from above his ears. His lips were parted, exposing upper and lower fangs. Another demon.
And, gods, this one was big. His broad chest and brawny arms were covered in a mesh chainmail shirt, his muscles rippling with strength under the metal. He was clad in leather pants, and they too were spattered in crimson. His long hair was tangled around those horns and hung over his dirty face. A sparse beard covered his cheeks.
Surely, this couldn't be . . . him. Her target. Nothing about his appearance indicated vampirism. Please don't let it be him.
When their eyes met, she gasped. His irises were a light blue, as described in the dossier. Severely disturbed? Violently territorial? Affirmative.
The blue flickered, turning blacker by the second, usually a sign of lust or rage in a demon. Neither boded well for her.
Just as she studied his appearance, his gaze raked over her body, over her hiked-up skirt and bared thighs. At once, his horns straightened and flared back, signaling his attraction to her.
When he raised his face, his eyes narrowed, as if with recognition. He clenched his huge hands into meaty fists, then opened them, splaying his claw-tipped fingers. Again and again he made fists, then released them, like he missed something he'd long held on to.
His shaft was hardening—impossible to miss that. When he sucked in ragged breaths, grasping at his chest, a ridiculous suspicion arose, but she tamped it down.
This demon looked to be on the razor's edge of lust. For all Carrow knew, he'd been out in this wasteland for centuries without a woman, as hard up as Asmodel.
And if she didn't figure out a way around it, this one was about to be on top of her, his hulking body heaving over her.
"I-I'm asking you not to hurt me," she said, studying his expression. His harsh face evinced nothing, no comprehension of her words. So no English. Trothan native? Check. His only reaction was an ever-growing erection.
Just as she'd begun to suspect he was beyond any communication, he slammed a fist over his chest, then pointed at her, rasping something that sounded like "Ara." His voice was rough, as if it'd been dragged over gravel.
When he stalked closer, she spied a tattoo, a large one that looked like black flames licking up his side, his right side.
Hekate help her, this was Carrow's target, Malkom Slaine. And the Order had been woefully mistaken. There'd be no coaxing him anywhere.
Change of plans. She wasn't going to lead him to the portal. She was going to lug his unconscious body there. After repeatedly stabbing him.
But for her plan to work, she needed him to charge her, to fall upon her.
She motioned for him, crooking a finger.
His eyes briefly widened, but he didn't speed up his approach.
Damn it, Slaine! Charge me!
Mentally steeling herself, she moistened her lips as she subtly inched her knees apart. . . .