His Immortal Embrace. Lynsay Sands
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HIS IMMORTAL HUNGER
He tensed as he heard someone slip into his room. The fact that the scent he picked up was Sophie’s did not ease his tension at all. This was a very bad time for her to come to his bedchamber. He listened to her take a few hesitant steps toward him, then stop. Slowly, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he savored her scent.
Another scent tantalized him, and he grew so tense his muscles ached as he opened his eyes to stare blindly out the window. Sophie smelled of desire. Alpin hastily finished his drink, but it satisfied only one hunger. There was another now raging inside of him, fed by the hint of feminine musk. He breathed it in, opening his mouth slightly to enhance his ability, and the blood began to pound in his veins.
“Go away, Sophie,” he said. “ ’Tisnae a good time for ye to be near me.”
“I felt ye return,” she said, taking another step toward him. “I wished to see that ye had come to no harm.”
“I am still alive, if ye can call this living.”
She sighed, but decided not to try to dispute his words this time. “I felt—”
“What? The beastie in me? The ferocity? The bloodlust? Or,” he looked at her over his shoulder, “just the lust?”
Sophie shook her head. “I felt that ye needed me, but, mayhap, that was just vanity.”
He turned to look at her more fully. “Nay, not vain. I do need ye, but I willnae allow myself to feed that hunger…”
From “The Yearning” by Hannah Howell
His Immortal EMBRACE
Hannah Howell
Lynsay Sands
Sara Blayne
Kate Huntington
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
CONTENTS
THE YEARNING
by Hannah Howell
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
BITTEN
by Lynsay Sands
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
STRANGER IN THE NIGHT
by Sara Blayne
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
THE AWAKENING
by Kate Huntington
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
THE YEARNING
Hannah Howell
Prologue
Scotland—A.D. 1000
“Nay!”
Morvyn Galt woke shaking and sweating with fear. The scent of magic was thick in the air. She scrambled out of her bed and yanked on her clothes. She could feel her sister’s anger, feel how Rona’s broken heart was twisting within her chest, changing into a hard, ugly thing that pumped hate throughout her body instead of the love it once held. Morvyn knew she would not be in time to stop the evil her sister stirred up, but she had to try. She grabbed her small bag and raced toward Rona’s cottage, praying as hard as she could despite her fear that her prayers would go unheeded.
When she reached Rona’s tiny home, she tried to open the door only to find it bolted against her. The smoke coming from the house was so heavy with the scent of herbs and sorcery that her eyes stung. She banged against the door, pleading with Rona as she heard her sister begin her incantation.
“Nay, Rona!” she screamed. “Cease! You will damn us all!”
“I damn but one,” replied Rona, “and well does he deserve it.”
Placing her hand over her womb, Rona stared into the fire and saw the face of her lover, her seducer, her betrayer. He was marrying another in the morning, forsaking love for land and coin. She would make him suffer for that, as she now suffered.
“Rage for rage, pain for pain, blood for blood, life for life.” Rona swayed slightly as she spoke, stroking her belly as she tossed a few more painstakingly mixed herbs into the fire.
“Rona, please! Do not do this!”
“As mine shall walk alone, so shall yours,” Rona continued, ignoring her sister’s pleas. “As mine shall be shunned, so shall yours.”
Morvyn scrambled to find something to write with. She needed to record this. As she sprawled on the ground to take advantage of the sliver of light seeping out from beneath the door, she realized she had no ink. From beneath the door she could see the smoke curling around her sister and saw Rona toss another handful of herbs upon the fire. Morvyn cut her palm with her dagger, wet her quill with her own blood, and began to write.
“Your firstborn son shall know only shadows,” intoned Rona, “as shall his son, as shall his son’s son, and thus it shall be until the seed of the MacCordy shall wither from hate and fade into the mists.”
Morvyn scattered her blessing and healing stones in front of the door, praying they might ease the force of the spell.
“From sunset of the first day The MacCordy becomes a mon, darkness will take him as a lover, blood will be his wine, fury will steal his soul, yearning will devour his heart, and he will become a creature of nightmares.” Rona felt her child kick forcefully as if in protest, but continued.
“He will know no beauty; he will know no love; he will know no peace.
“The name of the MacCordys will become a foul oath, their tale one used to frighten all the Godly.
“Thus it shall be, thus it shall remain, until one steps from the shadows of pride, land, and wealth and does as his heart commands.
“Until all that should have been finally is.”
Morvyn sat back on her heels and stared at the door. She could not believe her sister had acted so recklessly, so vindictively. Rona knew the dangers of flinging a curse out in anger, knew how the curse could fall back upon them threefold, yet, in her pain, she