Kresley Cole, книга Pleasure of a Dark Prince – аннотация, рейтинг, вся информация о книге на Альдебаране. Отзывы. Похожие книги. Видео. The Immortals After Dark Series collection ePub Kindle. Pleasure of a Dark Prince. Pleasure of a Dark Prince Immortals After Dark, Kresley Cole, Prince. Christine Feehan – Dark Series (29 Books) – Free eBooks, EPUB, PDF Downloads. Dark Prince (The Carpathians (Dark) Series, Book 1), Christine Feehan .. Night Pleasures (Dark-Hunter Novels Book 1) by Sherrilyn Kenyon Review.
|Language:||English, Spanish, Indonesian|
|ePub File Size:||28.59 MB|
|PDF File Size:||9.82 MB|
|Distribution:||Free* [*Register to download]|
IAD7 - Kiss of a Demon ronaldweinland.info KB. IAD8 - Untouchable-Deep Kiss of ronaldweinland.info KB. IAD9 - Pleasure of a Dark ronaldweinland.info KB. Pleasure of a Dark Prince (Immortals After Dark series) by Kresley Cole. Read online, or download in secure EPUB format. Demon From the Dark - Kresley Cole - documento [*.epub] #1 NEW of a Demon King Pleasure of a Dark Prince Anthologies Playing Easy to.
My hand had been forced, in the end, when the choice had been between a woeful roll of the dice and slaying her where she stood. I had no intention of allowing anywhere near the decision yet to be made over the crown, or of sparing him after that last knife in the back, so ending this here and now before the Twilight Crown finished crumbling seemed the way to go about it. Kairos Theodosian still had a handful of attending gargoyles and more artefacts than anyone should have at their fingertips, but aside from that he was spent. And while I was hardly fresh, above us two crows still slowly circled. Omens of death, and death was what I intended on delivering: if I need seek the helping hand of my patronesses for that, so be it.
He had seen the decline a few hundred years earlier and knew it was inevitable. At that time, the Carpathians had tried to warn them of what was coming. Times changed and a species had to evolve in order to survive, but the jaguar-men had refused the advice. They wanted to stick to the old ways, living deep in the forests, finding a mate, impregnating her and moving on.
They were wild and bad-tempered, never able to settle. The few jaguar-men Dominic had spent any time with had tremendous feelings of entitlement and superiority. They viewed all other species as inferior, and their women were seen as little more than a vessel to carry off spring. The royal family had a long history of cruelty and abuse toward their women and female children, a practice the other males viewed as example and followed.
There were a few rare jaguar-men who had tried to convince the others that they needed to value their women and children, rather than treating them as property, but they were considered traitors and were shunned and ridiculed--or worse, killed.
In the end the Carpathians had left the jaguar-men to their own devices, knowing the species was ultimately doomed. Brodrick the Tenth, a rare black jaguar, led the males just as his father and his ancestors before him had done.
He was considered a difficult, brutal man, responsible for the slaughter of entire villages, of the half-breeds he deemed unfit to live. It was rumored he had made an alliance with the Malinov brothers as well as the society of humans dedicated to wiping out vampires. Dominic shook his head at the irony. Humans couldn't distinguish between a Carpathian and a vampire, and their secret society had been infiltrated by the very ones they were trying to destroy.
The Malinovs were using both species in their war against the Carpathians. So far, the werewolves hadn't come down on either side, instead staying strictly neutral, but they existed, as Manolito De La Cruz had found with his lifemate. Dominic spread his wings and moved closer, tuning his hearing to catch the conversation inside the building. She went over the cliff. We couldn't stop her. A second voice, one filled with pain, added, "We can't afford the loss of any more of our women.
Dominic watched as a large man dressed in loose jeans and an open shirt emerged from the house. His hair was long, shaggy and very thick. Dominic knew instantly he was looking at Brodrick, the ruler of the jaguar-men.
His prince had decreed the Carpathians should leave the species to its own fate, otherwise Dominic would have been tempted to kill the man where he stood. Brodrick was directly responsible for the deaths of countless men, women and children.
He was consumed with evil, drunk on his own power and the belief that he was superior to all others. Brodrick looked at the two guards contemptuously. You're supposed to be doing a job. Brodrick scowled up at the rain, allowing it to pour onto his face.
He spat in disgust and stalked around to the side of the building where the fire had been. Crouching, he searched the ground. He was thorough about it, leaning down to sniff, using all senses to pick up the trail of his enemy.
Suddenly he sat back on his heels, stiffening. The jaguar-man who had carried the wounded one hurried out, barefoot, but in jeans and pulling on a T-shirt that strained across his chest. He took out two guards, the bullets so close together everyone thought only one shot had been fired. Where the hell was he? And how did he know the precise place to blow the building to free Annabelle? There were no windows. Kevin shrugged. She ran through the forest toward the river.
We thought maybe it was her man, the human she spoke of, coming to try to save her. We didn't need weapons to fight him, so we both shifted. We'd be faster traveling through the forest than Annabelle, even if she shifted.
Brodrick shook his head. And where's Tonio? He'd tangled with another cat. Brad was kneeling beside him, and the next thing I knew, he was on the ground and we were pinned down. I had no weapon and I shifted to try to circle around and find the shooter, but I couldn't find any tracks.
She did this. I know it was her. That's why you didn't find any tracks. She took to the trees. Dominic wanted to know who the mysterious woman they obviously hated--and feared--could be. Someone he wouldn't mind meeting.
Four of the five De La Cruz brothers had lifemates. Could the elusive woman be one of their lifemates? It was possible, but he doubted it. The De La Cruz brothers would not want their women in battle. They were men with fiercely protective natures, and coming to this part of the world had only increased their dominant tendencies. They had eight countries to patrol, and the Malinov brothers would know how impossible it was to cover every inch of the rain forest.
They would never, under any circumstances, send their women out alone. No, this had to be someone else. The eagle spread its massive wings and took to the air. The sun was beginning to fade, making him a little more comfortable, but the whisper of the parasites grew louder, tempting, pushing his hunger to a ravenous level, until he could barely think straight. It was only the bird's form that kept his sanity as he tried to adjust to the rising level of torment. As the night grew closer, the parasites went from sluggish to active, stabbing at his internal organs while the vampire blood burned like acid.
He needed to feed, but he was becoming more and more worried that insanity was grabbing hold and he wouldn't find the strength to resist the temptation of a kill while feeding. Each rising he'd woken voraciously hungry, and each time he fed, the parasites grew louder, pushing for a kill, demanding he feel the rush of power, the rightful rush of power, promising sweet coolness in his blood, a feeling of euphoria that would remove every pain from his weary body. He kept to the shade of the canopy as he expanded his exploration, heading for the site of the battle, hoping the eagle could spot something the men hadn't.
He found the cave entrances, very small and made of limestone, but these didn't seem to curve back underground to form the labyrinth of tunnels as the cave system miles away had done. There were only three small chambers and in each he found Mayan art on the walls. All three caves showed evidence of occupation, however brief, but violent in some way.
There were dried spots of blood in all of them. He took to the sky again, a vague uneasiness in his gut. That bothered him. He had seen horrific sites of battle, torture and death. He was a Carpathian warrior, and his lack of emotion served him well. Without a lifemate to balance the darkness in him, he needed the lack of emotion to stay sane over a thousand years of seeing cruelty and depravity.
Yet the sight of the blood in that cave, and the knowledge that women had been brought there by the jaguar-men to be used as they wished, sickened him. And that should never happen. Intellectually, perhaps. An intellectual reaction was acceptable, and the honor in him would rise up to abhor such behavior. But a physical reaction was completely unacceptable--and impossible.
Unsettled, Dominic expanded his search to include the cliffs above the river. The rain continued, increasing in strength, turning the world a silvery gray. Even with the clouds as cover, he felt the bright heat invading as he burst into the open over the river. A body lay crumpled and lifeless in the water, caught on the rocks, battered and forgotten. Long, thick hair lay spread out like seaweed, and one arm was wedged in the crevice two large boulders made.
She was faceup, her dead eyes staring at the sky, the rain pouring over her and running down her face like a flood of tears. Cursing, Dominic circled and then dropped.
He couldn't leave her like that. He just couldn't. It didn't matter how many people he'd seen dead. He would not leave her, a broken doll with no honor or respect for the woman she'd been. From what he'd gleaned from the conversation between Brodrick and Kevin, she had a family, a husband who loved her.
She--and they--deserved more than her body battered by water, left to swell and decompose and be fodder for the fish and carnivores that would feast on her. The bird settled on the boulder just above her body, and he shifted, covering his skin with a heavy cloak, the hood helping to protect his neck and face as he crouched low and caught her wrist.
He was strong and had no trouble pulling her from the water and into his arms. Her head lolled back on her neck, and he saw the bruises marring her skin and the prints around her neck. There were circles, black and blue around her wrists and ankles. Again he was shaken by his reaction. Sorrow mixed with rage. Sorrow was so heavy in his heart that it slowly blotted out the rage.
He took a breath and let it out. Was he feeling someone else's emotions? Did the parasites amplify emotions around him, adding to the high the vampire received from the terror his victim felt--from the adrenaline laced blood provided? That was a possibility, but he couldn't imagine that a vampire could feel sorrow.
Dominic carried the woman into the forest, every step increasing the heartache. The moment he entered the trees, he scented blood. This had to have been where the second battle had taken place and Brad had been wounded. He found where the third jaguar-man had shed his clothes and gone on the hunt, hoping to circle around and take the shooter.
There were few tracks to show the jaguar's passing, a small bit of fur and a partial track the rain had filled, but it wasn't long before he found the body of the cat. There had been a battle here, one between two cats. The dead cat's prints had been heavier, and spread farther apart, indicating he was larger. But the smaller cat had obviously been a veteran fighter; it had killed with a bite to the skull after a fierce struggle.
The foliage was soaked in blood and there was more on the ground. Dominic knew the jaguars would return to burn the fallen cat, so after carefully studying the ground to commit the victorious jaguar's prints to memory, he carried the woman to the most lush spot he could find. A grotto of limestone covered in tangled vines of flowers would be her only marker, but he opened the earth deep and gave her a place to rest.
As the soil closed over the woman, he murmured the death prayer in his native language, asking for peace and for her soul to be welcomed into the next life, as well as asking that the earth receive her body and welcome her flesh and bones. He stayed a moment while the rays of the sun sought him out through the cover of the canopy and rain, burning through his heavy cloak to raise blisters on his skin. The parasites reacted, twisting and shrieking in his head, his insides a mass of cuts that caused him to spit blood.
He pushed some of them from his body through his pores. He found that if he didn't decrease the number, the whispers grew louder and the torment impossible to ignore. He had to incinerate the writhing mutated leeches before they slipped into the ground and tried to find a way back to their masters.
Not yours. I could not truly ask more of him or begrudge his bitterness over having been led to this pass. Does he need healing? The Saint had knocked Roland unconscious, but aside from a red boot mark on his forehead the spellcaster should have no lasting marks. A concussion seemed likely, though, Named or not. The mark, I noted, had gone from bright red from light pink but it still remained highly visible. His eyes, for once without trace of a coloured ring around the pupil, met mine.
I nodded. Behind us, as is mocking the quiet of the conversation now taking place, the crown continued lashing out around itself with tendrils of sorcery. Her aged figure still lay sprawled at the foot of the throne, still and silent.
No one had dared to touch it. A band of five assembled before the eyes of princes and princesses of Procer had gone into broken Arcadia at the urging of the Black Queen, among them perhaps the two most famous heroes alive.
Neither the Regicide nor the Peregrine would return from that journey. The treacherous Tyrant of Helike would escape with but a curse, and from the heroes the only survivor would be the Rogue Sorcerer — a hero little known, and a mage to boot. Sorcery was not well-trusted, in Procer, and seemingly rare in Levant. I blinked at her. It was a strange thing, to both love and be furious with someone in the same moment for the same reason.
The Army of Callow would carry your corpse to the gates of Salia to make a funeral pyre of it. And I shudder to think of what the drow would be, without their designated conscience.
Hells, Pilgrim, your death alone would have Levant on the warpath but the Saint and you? I am the only practitioner among you, who best to shape this realm in what is needed of it? Even better. Touched as I was, I was just as infuriated. There will not be war.
Godsdamned angels. And there is no injustice, Roland, in an old man being allowed to rest at last. The was a heartbeat of silence. At this crossroads, making this call. Liesse had been the crucible of my existence in a way nowhere else in this world could claim to be.
Which of my triumphs and ruins had not been born of this place, or taken place among it? Twice, here, I had tricked life out of death. The reader for books, ReadEra, reads all popular formats of books, journals, articles and other documents in one app.
Best book manager for your library Auto-detection of books and documents. Easy navigation through folders and downloads. Grouping books by authors and series.
Sorting by name, file format, the last time read, etc. The Collections tool bookshelves allows creating personal thematic collections.
Books and documents can be added to one or several collections at the same time. We do our best to ensure order in your ebook library.
Navigation through a book Support for table of contents, bookmarks, history of jumping through pages of a book. Navigate the book using the page pointer or the progress line. Quick access to reading settings, table of contents, bookmarks and other ebook options.