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Can a banshee sing of her own impending death?
Once I started, I couldn’t stop reading.
Fast paced, intriguing, with interesting characters, passion, steam and love.
A thrilling read…this book was so good I can’t wait for the next one!five star reviews at amazon, for banshee cry
Want a little taste of BANSHEE CRY? Here’s an excerpt:
What the hell use is a banshee without a voice?
Well, I do have a voice, sort of, but it’s muted and soft. Useless when it comes to sounding a warning. Deadly when the only thing you can do is wail quietly into your pillow while death swoops in downstairs and takes away your father.
I was told by my aunt it took two vamps that night, to slowly suck the lifeblood from my dad. He put up a fight, once he knew what they were. But I didn’t give him the warning he needed and when they knocked, he was expecting our neighbors.
He just called out for them to come on in, while I lay in bed upstairs, feeling it coming like a wave of agony. Wailing in a whisper, and not even knowing why until it was over.
Four years old and my first death.
By far, the worst I’ve ever had. And all because of the vamps.
I stare into the set of icy blue eyes waiting for my response, and the twenty-five-year-old memories of my dad come rushing back in as if it all happened yesterday. The wail rises in my chest, as if called forth simply by the thought of death. No. Not again. Twice in less than twenty-four hours is simply too much to bear.
My fingers twitch toward the stake that sits looped in my belt but I manage to control the twin urges to scream and stab, and instead take a small step back from the injured vampire standing at my door.
“No.” I shake my head for emphasis. “You may not enter my home.”
“Please.” His gaze flickers and I know he’s aware of my weapon. “I was…attacked, and now that the sun is on the rise, I need shelter in order to heal. I need—”
“You need to feed.”
“I do not.” His voice rises briefly in obvious annoyance, and then he staggers slightly as if even that faint expending of energy is too much. “I happened to be in the Hatton Grove area for work, and yours is the nearest dwelling. I—”
Work? “What sort of work nets you a seriously mangled arm and…” I study the unnatural way he’s cradling himself. “Your shoulder too. Is it—”
“Dislocated, yes. And I think, maybe, a broken rib or two. I’m with the police. I was after a rogue supe reported near here, but…turns out there are more than one. In this case it was a vamp and a shifter, working together. They got the better of me. This time.”
Despite his injury, the words are fierce and a strange reddish glow appears deep behind his eyes. This guy is pissed. For a moment I see beyond the vamp label, and realize the man standing before me is one of the sexiest I’ve ever laid eyes on.
He’s the quintessential tall, dark and handsome, with rakish hair, an angular facial structure and a wide, sensual mouth that calls out to be kissed. I find myself leaning close toward him, and quickly shake my head and blink to try and dispel the allure.
What the hell am I doing, conversing with a vamp? Even one who may be on the right side of the law. Since the Accord thirty or so years ago, I’ve heard of supernatural beings joining mainstream humans in the workforce, but out here on the farm in my little neck of the woods, it’s rare to come across any creature—human or non-human alike. Which is just the way I like it.
I take a deep breath. “Get off my porch!”
Reluctantly, he backs away. He has no choice, now that I’ve compelled him. Vamps can’t enter without permission and my porch is technically still under my roof. Though only just, which is why he made it all the way to the kitchen entrance.
“The sun’s up. You’re sending me to my death.”
“I’m not.” I would know if death is imminent.
I don’t say that out loud but his gaze sharpens, as if he senses something other than mortal. “You don’t care either way, do you?”
“Oh, yes.” Sudden anger burns and I’m sure spots of pink decorate my cheeks. “I care. I care a great deal.”
Once again, his gaze narrows, dropping briefly to where my fist clenches and unclenches beside my stake.
He nods once. “So be it. I’ll try and find a shed. Or something…” He staggers down the porch steps and promptly collapses in a motionless heap at the base.
Fuck it. Fuck it to fucking hell and back.
(Copyright Jen Katemi 2020)
Romance with a Bite is available at Amazon for a limited time, or read free in Kindle Unlimited!