Genre: Paranormal Romance
In Caldwell, New York, war rages between vampires and their slayers. There exists a secret band of brothers-six vampire warriors, defenders of their race. Now the cold heart of a cunning predator will be warmed against its will...
Ruthless and brilliant, Vishous, son of the Bloodletter, possesses a destructive curse and a frightening ability to see the future. As a pretrans growing up in his father's war camp he was tormented and abused. As a member of the Brotherhood, he has no interest in love or emotion, only the battle with the Lessening Society. But when a mortal injury puts him in the care of human surgeon, Dr. Jane Whitcomb compels him to reveal his inner pain and taste true pleasure for the first time-until a destiny he didn't choose takes him into a future that cannot include her...
It’s not often you read a book where even the prologue makes your heart break. The Scribe Virgin comes to Vishous, his destiny to be the Primale of the Chosen, to breed and replenish the ranks of the brotherhood and the Chosen, she also reveals to him that she is his mother, which Vishous doesn’t take well after everything that happened to him in the past and the fact she could have done something but didn’t. Later Vishous is shot and finds himself in a hospital under the care of Dr. Jane Whitcomb , the feeling immediately pops into his head when he wakes after surgery, that Jane is his. When the Brother’s come to rescue Vishous, Jane puts up a hell of a fight thinking they mean Vishous harm and Vishous refuses to leave without Jane. Phury uses his mind mojo to get Jane out of there without too much fuss and she awakens in a room at the brotherhood compound, trapped in a room with Vishous expected to look after him until he is well enough for her to leave.
“He didn’t hesitate. Not even to take a breath. “On my honour and the blood in my veins, you’ll be free as soon as I’m well.’’
“Berating herself and them, she took her hand from her pocket, bent down and grabbed a vial of Demerol out of the bigger duffel. “There aren’t any syringes.”
“I’ve got some.” Red Sox came over and held a sterile pack out. When she tried to take it from him, he kept a grip on the thing. “I know you’ll use this wisely.”
“Wisely?” She snapped the syringe out of his hand. “No, I’m going to poke him in the eye with it. Because that’s what they trained me to do in medical school.””
“She wanted this. She wanted him. “Please-“
“Shh.” He cranked her head to the side with a twist of his wrist, exposing her throat, “When I want you to beg. I’ll tell you.””