Kindling The Darkness
He wants redemption…She only knows damnationOliver Connery left a secret paramilitary group because he couldn’t stand the thought of torturing supernatural beings. Lucy Smok’s mission is to send infernal creatures back where they came from. When Lucy learns that Oliver has been harbouring hellhounds, she wants to think of him as an enemy—and Oliver wants to think the same of her. But their feelings for each other are another story…
Читать Kindling The Darkness онлайн беплатно
He wants redemption...
She only knows damnation
Oliver Connery left a secret paramilitary group because he couldnât stand the thought of torturing supernatural beings. Lucy Smokâs mission is to send infernal creatures back where they came from. When Lucy learns that Oliver has been harboring hellhounds, she wants to think of him as an enemyâand Oliver wants to think the same of her. But their feelings for each other are another story...
JANE KINDRED is the author of the Demons of Elysium series of m/m erotic fantasy romance, the Looking Glass Gods dark fantasy tetralogy and the gothic paranormal romance The Lost Coast. Jane spent her formative years ruining her eyes reading romance novels in the Tucson sun and watching Star Trek marathons in the dark. She now writes to the sound of San Francisco foghorns while two cats slowly but surely edge her off the side of the bed.
Sisters in Sin
Waking the Serpent Bewitching the Dragon The Dragonâs Hunt Seducing the Dark Prince
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-08213-6
KINDLING THE DARKNESS
© 2018 Jane Kindred
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a âLicensed Deviceâ) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ⢠are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
For the freaks who suspect we could never love
anyoneâ¦and just need someone to save us from ourselves. (With thanks to Aimee Mann, who expressed it so eloquently.)
Contents
A timeless monument to spiritual devotionâand a 1950s architectural marvel that somehow managed not to insult the majesty of the burnished sandstone buttes into which it was wedged but to grace themâSedonaâs Chapel of the Holy Cross wasnât where you might expect the gates of hell to open. But open they did, for a few brief moments on one gorgeous midnight last spring. On Lucy Smokâs twenty-fifth birthday, to be exact. Funny thing, though, about opening the gates of hell to let something in: stuff got out. And it was Lucyâs responsibility to round up the wayward âstuffâ that escaped and put it back in. Cleaning up after Lucien. As usual.
Not that it was really his fault this time. It was their father whoâd traded her twinâs soul to the devil. And when Edgar Smok died, the bill had come due. Lucienâs transformation into an infernal being had opened the gates until his descent to rule the nether realm closed them. In that brief interim, the path between the nether realm and this one had been a two-way street.
Dozens of hell beasts were now running amok.
The one sheâd tracked this eveningâor rather, early this morningâwore a female skin suit: a haggard-looking twentysomething waitress at a greasy spoon, dishwater-blond hair slipping out of a limp ponytail and into her eyes as she took Lucyâs order. She was such a cliché that she had to be infernal.
Lucy had tracked the fugitive with a little help from the thousand-year-old Viking who happened to be dating Lucienâs sister-in-law. Leo Ström was the chieftain of the Wild Hunt, and the instincts of the Hunt wraiths under his command functioned like a metaphysical GPS, homing in on any vicious killers in the area. As much as Lucy hated the idea of them, connections among the not-quite-human came in handy for her present mission. And Theia Dawn, Lucienâs wife, had an entire family of not-quite-human connections. The Carlisle sisters, who claimed the demoness Lilith as their ancestor, seemed to attract it.
