Hunter’s Need releases in just over a month. I’m doing a big contest over @ my personal blog. If you’d like to read up on it, just visit http://shilohwalker.wordpress.com
A mini excerpt from the countdown…
He still had scars from those days, days that ran together in a pain-filled, delirious blur. Just a few days, but even a few minutes under those circumstances would be too much. She’d used him, figured out what and who he was and toyed with him, making him believe she wanted him and convincing him to leave the club with her.
He’d done just that, but instead of taking her to a motel or some dark, quiet apartment where she lived, she’d taken him to hell. To Cat, a feral vampire with a few mental issues. Something about Ana’s gift fucked with his instincts and he’d been blinded to the fact that the house he was following her into the territory of a feral vamp’s. Ferals—the kind of creature that Duke hunted down and killed.
Blind to everything but Ana, he’d been so caught up in her, in the taste of her mouth, the feel of her body against his, he hadn’t realized the danger until it was too late. He’d been shot with silver and in the brief period he’d been unconscious, somebody had chained him up, bound him head to toe with chains of silver and titanium—the silver drained him, burned him and ate into his flesh, while the titanium was too fucking strong for him to break away.
And that was how he’d spent the next couple of days, up until help arrived, in the form of Mary Kendall and Duke’s old friend Kane. Somebody from his life before. Life before the Hunters. Life before he’d ever met up with a sad-eyed psychic—a life that had been a helluva a lot easier.
He didn’t remember much of the days he spent in captivity, beyond Ana. Almost every damn time he swam up out of the black well of pain and weakness brought on by starvation, she’d been there, urging water past his parched throat, giving him just enough to keep him going. A natural shifter, he ate more, drank more than a mortal. A mortal could go a decent amount of time before starvation left them weak. But for a shifter, a couple of days without food was enough to put him in a bad state.
For the thousandth—no, probably the millionth time, he found himself wondering why she’d made the pretense of helping him, of caring if he lived or died under Cat’s hand. Found himself wondering why she was here—why she’d come, and why they’d allowed her to stay.
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