The Witch's Thirst

Deadly desire

For Evette Francois, falling in love is the end of the world—literally. A witch from a long and distinguished line, Evee wields power that comes at a devastating price. If she ever loves a human, all of humanity will suffer. Resisting the temptations of men has never been terribly difficult—until she meets Lucien Hyland. One member of a cabal devoted to preventing a race of interdimensional monsters from ruling the universe. Lucien is the most exquisite creature Evee has ever seen. If she succumbs to passion, death and chaos will follow. But she may not be strong enough to fight her desire.

Something inside Evee told her to move on. To go upstairs and shower as she’d proposed earlier.

Instead, she stood staring at him, neither saying a word. Before she knew it, Evee sensed what almost felt like human hands push her closer to Lucien, seemingly without her consent. Suddenly, Evee found her lips on Lucien’s, kissing him fiercely. His hands cupped the sides of her face and he returned the kiss, matching her ferocity.

The moment her lips touched Lucien’s, Evee felt such a thirst overtake her, it was like every ounce of moisture in her body had been depleted, her body suddenly dehydrated. So much so she could have drunk the entire Mississippi River and would still be craving more.

His full lips, so delicious, succulent.

Lucien’s mouth moved over her chin, down the side of her neck.

A moan escaped Evee’s lips, and she whispered, “Don’t let me go … don’t.”

DEBORAH LEBLANC is an award-winning, bestselling author and business owner from Lafayette, Louisiana. She is also a licensed death-scene investigator, a licensed private investigator and has been a paranormal investigator for over twenty years. Deborah is currently the house “clairsendium” for the upcoming paranormalinvestigation television show Through the Veil.

She served four years as president of the Horror Writers Association, eight years as president of the Writers’ Guild of Acadiana and two years as president of Mystery Writers of America’s Southwest Chapter.

In 2007, Deborah founded Literacy Inc., a nonprofit organization dedicated to fighting illiteracy in America’s teens. Deborah also takes her passion for literacy and a powerful ability to motivate to high schools around the country.

For more information, visit deborahleblanc.com and literacyinc.com.

The Witch’s Thirst

Deborah LeBlanc

www.millsandboon.co.uk

My heartfelt thanks to Rich, Meme and Roe—you help make so much happen!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Evette—Evee—François watched as black and pus-yellow liquid flowed from Bailey’s arm when Daven clawed through it. Both were Nosferatu and hell-bent on destroying each other. Aside from Bailey and Daven, six more Nosferatu had paired off, each viciously attacking the other. Her head captain, Pierre, supposedly in charge of the two-hundred-plus Nosferatu they forced to remain in the catacombs and allowed out only for feedings, did his best to stop the fighting. He’d stretched his bulk of a body to its full eight feet, had morphed into his natural state—bald head with a large, throbbing vein that started at his forehead and then extended over the crown of his scalp like tree branches. His fangs, the longest and most lethal of all the teeth possessed by the Nosferatu within the catacombs, were bared. His hands had balled into fists. And when he shouted, the walls seemed to vibrate with the fierceness of his voice.

“Enough! As leader of this clan, I say enough! Return to your assigned spaces at once!”

Instead of listening to Pierre, more Nosferatu began to fight. They hissed and shrieked, and Evee let out a heavy sigh. She noticed that the Nosferatu who weren’t fighting were either hiding behind a crypt or had rolled onto a grave shelf, seemingly content to watch, but not wanting to engage in any brawl.

“We’ve got to get them under control before they kill one another,” Lucien Hyland said emphatically. He took hold of the two steel bars from a floor-to-ceiling gate that separated the outside world from the catacombs of St. John’s Cathedral. He shook them, then pulled the thick chain and padlock that secured the gates. Neither gate nor padlock budged.

“Cousin, get your hands away from the bars—” Before Ronan Hyland could finish his warning, two Nosferatu slammed into the gate. Both reached for Lucien.

Lucien sprang backward, away from the gate, then looked from his cousin to Evee, who was leaning against a stone column, arms crossed over her chest.

“Why aren’t you doing something?” Lucien asked Evee, his emerald green eyes ablaze with anger. “You’re acting rather nonchalant over this ordeal. Why? Can’t you see they’re going to kill each other? Can’t you see all the...blood?”