Unchained by a Forbidden Love
(Eternal Mates Romance Series Book 15)
Felicity Heaton
Lost to the darkness, Fuery wages a daily war against the corruption that lives within him, constantly in danger of slipping into the black abyss and becoming the monster all elves fear. Work as an assassin gives him purpose, but what reason is there to go on when he killed the light of his life—his fated mate?
Shaia has spent forty-two centuries mourning her mate. Tired and worn down, she agrees to wed a male of her family’s choosing, following tradition that has always bound her as a female and hoping she will be able to gain just a little freedom in return. But as she resigns herself to being the mate of a male she could never love, fate places an old friend in her path—one who tells her that her lost love is alive.
Will Shaia find the courage to break with tradition and leave the elf kingdom in search of her mate? And as a ray of light pierces his soul again, can Fuery find the strength to win his battle against the darkness or will it devour him and that light of their forbidden love forever?
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It was never a good day when he woke with the taste of blood on his tongue and no recollection of how it had got there.
Again.
Fuery stared up into the darkness, cold sweat trickling over his exposed chest and sticking the thin black bedclothes to his legs. He breathed hard, each heavy desperate exhalation shattering the silence, rasping in his ears together with his thundering heartbeat.
Icy claws gripped him, sinking into the blackened remains of his heart, attempting to pierce deep enough to reach whatever fragment of light remained in him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, dragged down a shuddering breath and held it, unwilling to let fear pull him into the darkness. He would not let it win. He couldn’t. He exhaled slowly, a measured pace that created a sliver of calm, enough to give him the strength to shake the grip of his fear and allow him to extinguish that emotion.
Because fear was a weakness.
He did not feel such things.
He hadn’t in a long time.
Not since he had hardened himself to the world.
Not since that night.
Fuery screwed his eyes shut even tighter, his lips drawing into a grimace that flashed his emerging fangs as the darkness welled again, pulling up memories from the abyss. They surged and fought for freedom, and he growled as he pushed back against them, battled and resisted them. The fight took longer this time, strained minutes in which the fear slithered back in and wrapped around him again, squeezing his lungs tight and hissing whispered taunts in his ear, words about the terrible sins he had committed that had the memories surging harder, almost breaking to the surface.
He gripped the sides of his head and squeezed hard as he snarled through his clenched fangs. Tears cut down his temples, hot against his chilled skin. He didn’t want to remember, but he could never forget either.
He didn’t want to go back into the darkness, refused to sink into oblivion again and do the vile bidding of the darkness that lived inside him. Not again.
He grappled with fear, wrestled with the darkness, and fought the tide of memories, and somehow, the gods only knew how, he managed to subdue them and vanquish the raw agony and the sheer terror that threatened to push him back over the edge.
He panted hard, body trembling from the exertion of overcoming the darkness and clawing his way back to the light.
Couldn’t think about that night.
Never look back.
The past was pain.
A constant source of it that scoured his blackened soul.
No looking back.
He inhaled and exhaled, keeping them measured and deep, struggling for calm again as his past and his present churned inside him, rocking him and trying to keep him off balance, on the brink of teetering back into the abyss.
No looking back.
Fuery chanted it in his mind as he sought the calm—the quiet.
It was slow to come while the darkness roared inside him, drawn out by the fear that had paralyzed him, weakened him and opened him to it. Its inky tendrils snaked around his heart and squeezed it in his hollow chest.
Attempted to claim his soul.
Calm seemed an impossible dream while blood coated his tongue.
But gods, he wanted it, reached for it, desperate to shirk the grip of the fear and the darkness again.
They combined to overpower him and he could feel himself slipping again, skidding down that terrifying slope towards the cold forbidding darkness where it reached for him, beckoned him with promises of oblivion and an escape from the madness.
From the pain.
No looking back.
The past was a nightmare.
The past was pain.
Always pain.
He opened his eyes and stared up into the darkness as he forced himself to see where he was in a vain attempt to focus on the present. He was here, in the guild, in the free realm of Hell. He was far away from there. Leagues from the elf kingdom. Centuries away from his past.
Light streaked across the darkness and his eyes swiftly adjusted to the onslaught. A shadow made the slim vertical shaft flicker and then brightness exploded in the room, driving back the darkness entirely.
Just as the male on the threshold of his room drove it from his soul.
Hartt looked at him through sleep-filled eyes and murmured huskily in the elf tongue, “I felt you stir. Everything alright?”
Fuery went to nod, because any other response would leave him weak. Vulnerable. He stopped himself, paused and stared at Hartt where he stood dressed in only a loose pair of black cotton trousers and scrubbing a hand over his short sleep-mussed black-blue hair, yawning the whole time.
He didn’t need to protect himself like that with this male.
Hartt knew the truth of him. Knew his secrets. His story.
Fuery slowly shook his head.
Hartt yawned again, smacked his lips together and rubbed sleep from his violet eyes as he stepped into the room. He quietly closed the door, descending the room back into darkness that lasted only a second. A soft glow burned in the glass lamp on the low round wooden table near the window to Fuery’s left and gradually gained strength, driving back the shadows again and drawing some of the darkness out of the black plastered walls, softening the bleak colour.
Hartt’s doing, because Fuery’s own powers were unpredictable.
Unreliable since that night.
The male padded silently barefoot across the stone floor towards him and sat on the edge of the bed on his left, causing Fuery to roll towards him. The warm light chased over Hartt, throwing the left half of his face into shadow.
Hartt’s violet eyes softened as they met his. “Tell me about it.”
Fuery sank back into the double mattress on a sigh and averted his gaze, pinning it back on the wooden ceiling. Gods, he didn’t want to speak about it. Everything in him screamed to protect himself by making the male go away, but that light Hartt always seemed to draw out of him emulated the lamp, fought to grow brighter and drive the darkness back.
He had to speak about it. Years of experience had taught him that. Holding it inside would only give the darkness a firmer hold on him, making it harder to shake it and increasing the risk of him sinking into that terrible oblivion again.
He didn’t want to go there.
So he forced himself to speak.
“I woke…” His hands tensed against his bare stomach, fingers curling into fists, and he pushed onwards. “I woke with the taste of blood in my mouth.”
He could still taste it now.
He dropped his gaze to his body. No trace of crimson on his torso. He uncurled his hands and lifted them, stared at his fingers and his callused palms, scouring them for a sign, some evidence that he had lost himself to the darkness and had killed.
There wasn’t a single fleck of blood on him.
But it was there in his mouth.
Coppery. Vile.
“I think I did something terrible,” he whispered and shook his head, numbness sweeping through him and bringing fear in its wake, a stronger wave this time, one that threatened to pull him under. Break him. “I don’t remember. I can’t recall how I got to my bed.”
He shifted his gaze to land on Hartt.
The pity shining in Hartt’s violet eyes drove shame through his heart like a spear and he quickly looked away.
“I put you here,” Hartt said softly, his deep voice a bare whisper but one that soothed Fuery, easing his fear and the grip the darkness had on him. “You had an… episode… and I brought you home.”
Relief bloomed inside him, sweet and warm, but the darkness still refused to release him and worry continued to slither inside him like a living thing, hissing in his ear that Hartt was lying, that he had killed and the male was covering it up.
Hartt seemed to see it, because he sighed and jerked his chin towards him. “Open your mouth.”
Fuery didn’t hesitate to do as he was ordered. The male leaned over, peered into his mouth and lifted his top lip with his left hand. When he prodded Fuery’s tongue on the left side, sharp pain lanced the length of it and he flinched, almost biting Hartt’s finger. The male was too fast for him though, reacted in a heartbeat and had his finger clear before Fuery’s fangs could pierce his flesh.
“You must have bitten your tongue when you were thrashing around. That’s all.” Hartt eased back.
Gods, the relief that hit Fuery this time was like ambrosia. It poured through him, washing away his worry and easing the chill from his blood.
Hartt’s lips tugged into a smile and he slowly shook his head. “For a male who makes a living taking lives, you are oddly affected by the idea of killing.”
Fuery knew it was a paradox, that Hartt was right and he had no qualms about his life as an assassin.
But there was a vast difference between killing when he was in control and murder when he was lost to the darkness.
He had felt that way for many centuries.
He had felt it since that night.
Now he couldn’t bear the idea he might kill someone innocent during one of his blackouts.
He looked to Hartt and saw in his eyes that he wouldn’t tell him if he did. Hartt was noble in his desire to protect him from the pain of the things he did when the darkness was in control, but Fuery didn’t want his friend to lie to him, to cover the truth and spare him like that.
He needed to know the things that he did. He had to know them. He could never atone, but he could bear his sins.
Because all that he had done, and all that he might do, paled in comparison to the sin he had committed.
That night.
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BLP REVIEW ~ Tracy
There’s a very good chance I’ve said this before about other instalments in this series… BUT Unchained by a Forbidden Love is up there as a real favourite of the Eternal Mates books to date.
I felt that this book was slightly different than previous in the series – while before we had dealt with issues our main couple had we also had the Archangel storyline featuring quite heavily and a lot of action and suspense around that arc. In Fuery and Shaia book things were a lot more personal and to an extent there was a bit less focus on what was going on around them – though our hero was still carrying out his role as an assassin and we caught up with a few of our favourite characters from earlier in the series – I loved the fact that we followed Shaia and Fuery’s history, heartache and battle to get back to where they once were.
We knew from before that Fuery was pretty lost to the darkness and not far from becoming totally gone but we had no idea what had caused him to fall so far and when we did discover the cause I could completely understand and my heart broke for them both!
We jump back and forth through four centuries and the true depth of feeling and love between our couple was palpable. Even though they had been separated for so long, their connection, chemistry and devotion was as deep as it had been when they first knew each other. I loved Shaia’s strength and belief in Fuery, she wouldn’t give up on him even when she was encouraged to.
As you would expect from a Felicity Heaton read the story was action packed, had some twists and turns, battles of the heart and a shed load of heat and attraction.
You’d possibly think that by the 15th book in a series things would maybe be getting a little slow or repetitive but I can honestly say that this series just keeps getting better and I’m looking forward to finding out what’s next for the Eternal Mates
5 hugely deserved stars!!!
Book 1: Kissed by a Dark Prince (FREE AT SELECTED RETAILERS!)
Book 2: Claimed by a Demon King
Book 3: Tempted by a Rogue Prince
Book 4: Hunted by a Jaguar
Book 5: Craved by an Alpha
Book 6: Bitten by a Hellcat
Book 7: Taken by a Dragon
Book 8: Marked by an Assassin
Book 9: Possessed by a Dark Warrior
Book 10: Awakened by a Demoness
Book 11: Haunted by the King of Death
Book 12: Turned by a Tiger
Book 13: Tamed by a Tiger
Book 14: Treasured by a Tiger
Book 15: Unchained by a Forbidden Love
Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons! If you’re a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will enjoy her books too.
If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling Vampire Erotic Theatre series. Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled with hot-blooded alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons to shifters and angels, then take a look at the new Eternal Mates series.
If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places:
WEBSITE | BLOG | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS | INSTAGRAM
When a children’s book author’s only chance to get home for Christmas lies in a road trip with her sexy ex-husband anything can happen, naughty or nice. Unwrap this Christmas novella from Amazon best-selling author Miranda Liasson, CAN’T MISS CHRISTMAS…
About CAN’T MISS CHRISTMAS
Finding love again is the best Christmas present of all.
It’s two days before Christmas and bestselling children’s author Grace Alberts needs to fulfill a promise—to make it to a book signing for the kids at the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, the place that did so much for her during a very rough time. But the weather’s getting awful and all flights are cancelled out of Boston, where she’s wrapping up her book tour. Then in walks her annoying but extremely sexy ex-husband, who (as usual) thinks he’s got all the answers.
Graham Walker just stopped by to get a book signed for Grace’s biggest fan, his niece, and wish Grace a Merry Christmas—why not? But he soon finds himself troubleshooting her dilemma. He’s got a Range Rover that can plow through a hundred-year Nor’easter. He’s even headed home to Philly. Trouble is, Grace’s and his past is a disaster, something he has no intention of reliving while driving through a winter storm, no matter how much he once loved her. And maybe still does.
Bad weather has a way of bringing out the best and the worst in people, and when a run in with some deer antlers leads them to a forced stop in Mirror Lake, Connecticut, anything can happen, naughty or nice. Maybe a bit of enforced alone time and some Christmas magic can be just what it takes for them to face their past—and each other—once and for all.
On Sale in Digital: November 7, 2017
Add CAN’T MISS CHRISTMAS to your TBR pile on Goodreads!
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Grand Prize: 1 Winner Will Receive a Kindle Fire
Runner-Up: 3 Runner-Up Will Receive any Backlist Miranda Liasson Title (Digital Version Only)
Excerpt:
As soon he could, Graham exited the highway and stopped at a convenience mart for gas. It was a relief having something to do. If he didn’t stop reacting to Grace—his whole body on alert, his pulse pounding, his imagination racing to places it had no business going—well, it was going to be a very long trip.
“I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” blared from a speaker as Graham filled the tank. He turned up the collar on his coat, wishing he had on more comfortable clothes for the long drive.
He wished everything was more comfortable on this crazy drive. When he walked into the store, Grace was buying pretzels and a coffee. He got a coffee too, and paid for her things before she could protest. At the last second, he asked for a couple of lottery tickets, an instant scratch-off game and one of the daily numbers tickets.
“You still buy those?” she asked from her spot in front of him in line.
He used to buy them all the time. He hadn’t, though, since those days when they were broke and poor and winning would mean a ticket to a new life.
But today was…different. He’d bought it on impulse, maybe as a talisman for luck. To survive the drive intact. Or more than that. Something deep down inside made him buy it because it reminded him of the old days.
When they were broke. When all they had was a mattress on the floor and an old steel shelf from his dad’s garage where they kept their underwear and socks. When dreaming of winning the lottery brought visions of a less dumpy apartment, furniture, a car.
Those had been the happiest times of his life. They’d been so in love. They’d had everything and never even knew it. But of course he couldn’t say any of that.
“You sure you’re not hungry?” he asked. “It’s a five-hour drive in good weather.”
She looked hungry. He knew her well enough he could tell. She was a little pale, a trace of dark circles under her eyes. Or maybe she was like him, too nervous and keyed up to think about food. “We can stop and get something after we’re on the road for a while. Does that sound good?” he asked.
“I thought you hated to make stops,” she said, her mouth pulling up in a smile. “When we were married, I used to have to barter for pee breaks.”
“Maybe I’ve learned to be a little less…”
“Anal?”
“Ha ha. In all fairness, I recall several road trips where we made plenty of stops at rest areas but never got out of the car.”
That made her blush.
“We were young,” she said, clearing her throat. Their eyes met, and he could swear he saw a piece of the same heartbreak that was currently wreaking havoc with his entire body.
“We’re still young,” he said, his frustration coming through a little. It was just that they were acting like a pair of eighty-year-olds reminiscing over times that were gone forever.
They could still create good times.
Oh hell. There he went again. It had taken him so long to get over her. Longer yet to even look at another woman. And here he was, two years later, after just thirty minutes in her presence, fantasizing about everything he’d worked so hard to leave behind. Old habits died hard.
When the clerk handed him the lottery tickets, he pocketed the daily number one for later and handed the scratch-off one to Grace. Another old habit.
She looked at him and then the ticket and frowned. “You want me to scratch off the numbers?”
He nodded.
“You’re crazy,” she said.
“For old times’ sake,” he said. “Well, why not? We may as well start this journey off on the right foot.”
She rolled her eyes, but for a heartbeat, something flickered in her eyes. He wasn’t sure, but maybe she’d been touched a little by the corny gesture.
“Oh, all right,” she said, using her nail to scratch off the numbers.
“We didn’t win,” he said, looking over her shoulder. Of course they hadn’t. They’d both lost, badly, a long time ago. Except that had nothing to do with a lottery ticket.
BLP REVIEW ~ Tracy
I love a good second chance romance and Can’t Miss Christmas was up there for me – I mean, c’mon, another shot at love AND Christmas, how could I resist that?!
This is a story of a couple in love who lost their way and for multiple reasons weren’t able to get back to each other. Their meeting up again was a spur of the moment thing when Graham Walker decided to get a book signed by Grace Alberts (who just happens to be his ex-wife) when he’s passing a bookstore where she is currently signing books for her young fans….
They haven’t seen each other in a while but the attraction and connection is still there even though they’ve gone their own way and both still feel hurt from their past actions. Watching them realise what they had, what they lost and realising that there could still be a way forward for them was heartwarming and I was engaged from start to finish.
I haven’t read the Mirror Lake books by Miranda Liasson but after meeting some of the characters from that series in this book I’m definitely gonna be checking out the back catalogue and catching up with the residents in the small town!
A definite 4* read for me.
Author Bio:
Miranda Liasson loves to write stories about everyday people who find love despite themselves, because there’s nothing like a great love story. And if there are a few laughs along the way, even better! She’s a Romance Writers of America Golden Heart winner and an Amazon bestselling author whose heartwarming and humorous small–town romances have won accolades such as the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence and have been Harlequin Junkie and Night Owl Reviews Top Picks.
Connect with Miranda:
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon | Newsletter | Bookbub | Pinterest | Blog
Treasured by a Tiger (Eternal Mates Romance Series Book 14)
Felicity Heaton
Despised by his tiger shifter pride as an abomination, Grey has ventured far from home, deep into the bowels of Hell in search of answers about the machinations of Archangel, the mortal hunter organisation who held his twin captive. With no knowledge of the realm, and little skill with the local languages, he quickly finds himself at a dead end—until he crosses paths with a beautiful hellcat female who rouses his darkest most dangerous instincts.
Lyra has been a fool, falling for the charms of a male whose only desire was to make a fast buck by selling her. Shackled and collared, her strength muted by magic, she awaits her time on the stage at a black-market auction, but before it can come, all hell breaks loose and she seizes a chance to escape—and runs straight into a majestic warrior who steals her breath away and tempts her like no other as he battles alone to free everyone.
When Lyra offers her services as a translator to repay Grey for saving her, will he be strong enough to resist the needs she awakens in him and spare himself the pain of her inevitable rejection when she discovers the truth about him? And when the powerful male in charge of the slave ring starts a bloody hunt for Lyra, can she escape another collar and find the courage to trust the tiger who is capturing her heart?
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Grey slowed his steps and watched the male walking away. He didn’t stop at the perimeter of the village. He kept walking, heading into the darkness, going south-east.
High, bubbling laughter broke the silence.
He shook off his curiosity about the male and returned his focus to his mission, shifting his gaze back to the hut that was possibly a tavern.
Another female toppled out of it, a male following close behind her.
“Excuse me.” Grey raised his hand to snag their attention.
Both of them stared blankly at him.
They looked at each other.
Spoke.
In a language he didn’t know.
The female was rather animated as she prattled on, tossing her blonde hair over her bare shoulders, revealing a small top that was more strapless bra than corset. Matching black leather hugged her long legs. She was pretty too, a bright glow around her pupils that might have fooled him into believing her a shifter like him.
Only she smelled of sex and sin.
A succubus.
Her partner stood behind her, giving Grey a death glare turned up to the max.
Succubus sidled towards Grey, a wicked sway to her curvy hips and a smile tugging at her cherry red lips.
Crimson bled into the male’s eyes, his pupils stretching thin in their centres.
Another vampire.
And this one looked as if he might fight to prove who was stronger.
Grey held his hands up again and shook his head. “My mistake.”
He hurried past the male, ducking into the hut. It was cramped inside and he had to remain bent over to avoid banging his head. With all the demons, dragons and elves in Hell, he would have thought someone would have had the foresight to build the walls higher so the roof trusses didn’t pose a risk of injury.
He was barely pushing six-five and it was a struggle to reach the bar without knocking a few braincells out, or himself out with them. He didn’t want to see a demon pushing seven foot trying to move around in the cramped suffocating space.
Wooden torches rested in metal sconces spaced around the walls and clustered behind the bar area opposite him. Their flames flickered wildly, casting shadows over the males and females seated around the tables that lined the edges of the room. As if it wasn’t hot enough already. He huffed and tugged at his damp t-shirt, trying to fan himself a little as the temperature rose. Still, it was nice seeing a colour other than endless black, and having light in his life again.
He found a spot at the black stone bar, squatted there and tried to get the attention of the female serving. A very ample female. Her long mahogany corset pressed her curves inwards, and upwards, and tan leather encased powerful thighs. She poured a drink from one of the five huge wooden barrels stacked like a pyramid behind the bar and then turned back to the customer and set the clay mug down in front of him.
Her eyes glowed as she spoke with the male, a pretty shade of blue with violet hints.
Another succubus.
Was this entire village made up of them?
She brushed her fingers across the male’s jaw, and he visibly shuddered and sagged a little, his cheeks turning deep pink as he stared dazedly at her.
Another beautiful and buxom female came to him and ushered him away, out of the door and into the darkness.
The bartender finally noticed him.
Her smile lit up the room and her eyes glowed a little brighter.
Grey cleared his throat and schooled his features, his lips settling in a firm line and his silver eyebrows meeting hard above his blue eyes.
“I just want information.”
She looked disappointed.
Possibly confused.
The escorts Thorne had offered were looking more and more like they would have been a fantastic idea.
The brunette blinked and leaned against the bar, her breasts threatening to spill out of her tight corset. She reached for him.
He shook his head. “Just information.”
He wasn’t interested in anything else. He shut out the mocking voices in his head. It was his choice. He was the one uninterested in her, not the other way around.
“Infor… mace…” A little wrinkle formed between her brightly coloured eyes.
“Information.” He pulled his pack off his back, unzipped the main compartment and fished out the papers he had brought with him. He set them down on the stone slab and pointed to the name of the village. “Is this here?”
She stared at the word.
Dammit. Thorne had warned him that the ragtag groups that called this area their home had probably never left Hell so were unlikely to know the mortal tongues.
Someone peered over his shoulder.
A black clawed finger landed on the piece of paper in front of him, close to his. “Here.”
Grey jumped and growled at the male beside him. The warlock. Wizard. Whatever the hell he wanted to be called. He reeked of magic and death.
Even the succubus backed off, her usual bright smile and sultry air turning cold and dark. She said something, and the male said something back at her, a bite in his tone.
“You speak English?” Grey didn’t want to talk to the male, but he wasn’t going to get anywhere speaking with the bartender or anyone else in the joint.
The male didn’t nod.
Not a good sign.
“This is here?” He pointed to the name on the piece of paper again.
The male nodded and looked around. “Here.”
It was a start.
“You speak her tongue?” Grey pointed towards the bartender. “Speak. Her.”
The male frowned, his icy green eyes darkening a shade, and looked at the female, and then back at him. “Yes.”
Getting there.
But the male didn’t really understand him. He couldn’t ask complicated questions and have him relay them to the bartender for her to answer, and the male wouldn’t know the answer to them himself since he was clearly just passing through and using the village as a rest stop.
He needed to boil it down into something the male might understand.
“Mortals. Humans.” It was worth a shot. He pointed to himself. “I’m looking for mortals.”
The male’s eyes lit up. He pointed east. “Mortals.”
Grey looked in that direction. East. The dragon realm and the Devil’s lands were east of here. He slid his blue gaze back to the male, his hackles rising and his animal side growing restless, prowling beneath his skin.
Was the male telling him the truth?
“Mortals?” Grey pointed east, along the length of the bar.
The male nodded and attempted a smile. It came off twisted and disturbing rather than reassuring.
“Definitely?” Because he was starting to get the feeling that the male was trying to get him killed. “Because dragons are that way.”
The male shook his head. “No dragons. Mortals.”
Grey pulled the map out of his trouser pocket, spread it across the bar top and jammed a finger against the area Sable had labelled as ‘here be dragons’ and had drawn what he imagined was meant to be a dragon, but it looked more like a snake fighting a spider.
“Dragons.” He tapped the paper.
The warlock shook his head again, his eyes darkening another shade and his thin lips flattening. He jabbed a black claw against a spot west of the dragons, and east of their current location.
“Mortals. There.”
So close?
Was it possible?
“Here?” Grey pointed to the map.
The male looked as if he was going to kill him if he asked again, an inky sort of darkness growing around his pupils to devour the pale green of his irises.
“Okay. Here it is. Got it. Thanks.” Grey bundled up his papers and his backpack in his arms and left before the male could even think about muttering a spell to flay his fur off his body.
He breathed deep as he hit the village square again, shaking off his nerves and the sensation that the male was trying to get him killed. He just smelled of death, that was all it was. It had put Grey on edge.
He looked back at the tavern. Even the succubi had avoided the male. He turned away from the village and headed east, glancing at the male’s tent as he passed it. It was set up a good distance from the rest of the tents and from the huts, placed right against the perimeter wall of the village.
That struck a chord in him.
The warlock had come to the village, but had separated himself from them, was keeping his distance even though he obviously wanted to be around others.
The male had been helpful, but because he had looked different to the others, Grey had found it difficult to trust him. He had judged him on his appearance, and had believed he wanted to kill him because of that. He was no better than the others.
He should have been.
Experience should have taught him something, should have made him react differently to the male, but he had treated him with suspicion, just like the rest.
Just like his pride had treated him.
All because he was different to them.
Gods, he was no better than them.
He hated that.
It weighed him down as he trekked east, following the lead the male had given him.
It took him across the valley basin to the foot of a low mountain range.
He looked along it in both directions, and then at his map. By his calculations, the quickest route would be over the mountains, because the range stretched in both directions for miles. If he tried to go around, it would take him at least another day to reach the destination the warlock had marked for him.
By then, Archangel might have moved on.
He adjusted his pack on his shoulders, huffed and started forwards, picking a path up the gently sloping side of the mountain. He crossed a trail around two hundred metres up and followed it as it wound through the sharp towering rocks and up through tall crevasses that sliced into the black mountain. The trail grew narrow near the top, heading towards a sweeping curve between two peaks.
He brought his pack around to his front and pressed his back against the black rock as he edged sideways along the path, his eyes on the steep drop to jagged rocks below and his heart hammering against his ribs. No damn way he was going to fall. He breathed through the fear, refusing to let it get to him, and looked to his right, focusing on the path instead.
It opened up a short distance ahead.
Relief was quick to sweep through him when his boots hit the wider path and the trail led away from the edge, over the ridge.
Gods, he was tired.
He pulled a cloth from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow, and ran his other hand over his silver hair. He would rest on the other side. This high up the mountain, he was unlikely to run into any wild beasts. He could spare a few minutes to catch his breath and rest his legs. He unhooked the canteen from his pack, took a swig of the tepid water, and capped it and put it back again. He was getting low.
Thorne had warned him not to trust the water in Hell.
Apparently, some of it wasn’t water at all.
Grey didn’t want to know what that meant.
He figured it wouldn’t end well for him and that was enough to have him steering clear of hitting any stream he saw for a refill of his canteen.
He reached the top of the mountain.
His breath caught.
Good gods.
It was as if he could see the entire world.
Or at least all of Hell.
Beyond the valley far below him, steeper mountains rose, forming ridge after ridge into the distance, where the sky glowed bright gold. The Devil’s domain.
Hell was bleak, grim, but had a strange sort of beauty to it from up here.
He started down the mountain, his eyes leaping back to the view whenever they could, drinking it in. It was incredible. How big was Hell? He should have looked back in the other direction at the ridge to see if he could figure it out. Maybe he would stop there and drink it all in if he came back this way.
He picked out a spot to rest as he scouted the route ahead of him, a nice flat space just a little over halfway down the mountain and only accessible from one side, giving him some protection.
He was close to it when lights in the valley caught his eye.
He slowed his steps and tracked them as they flickered and danced, a row of flaming gold spots crossing the darkness, heading to his left, deeper into the valley.
Archangel?
He looked in the direction they were heading, and frowned. More lights glowed there. Another village? Or a base of operations for a mortal hunter organisation up to no good?
Thoughts of resting scattered and he marched down the mountain, intent on reaching the valley floor before the people walking towards the settlement reached it. He needed to find out if they were Archangel soldiers, and he needed to do it before they joined up with the others. He could handle a few hunters, but not an entire base of operations.
His boots skidded on the loose black shale as he hurried down the mountain, and he fought for balance more than once, attempting a controlled slide that would get him down into the valley quicker than using the paths.
When he hit the valley floor, he paused for breath, his eyes scanning the dimly lit world around him. He spotted the torches off to his left, about five hundred metres out from his current position. He drew down a deep breath, held it in his lungs to steady his heart and centre himself and exhaled slowly. His senses sharpened, his animal side rising to the fore, allowing him to see into the darkness ahead of him.
Allowing him to see the people crossing the valley.
Every inch of him stilled.
And then a slow burn started in his blood.
It wasn’t Archangel.
He growled low in his throat at the sight of the large male figures, at the thick chains they gripped, and the captives they dragged along behind them.
It was slave traders.
He caught a flash of the two tiger shifter females he had found huddled naked and terrified in their cages, held against their will by Pyotr, the male Maya had been promised to as a cub.
That burn grew hotter, fiercer, blazing white hot, and he curled his hands into fists, his emerging claws digging into his palms as his tiger side raged, battered his control and pushed him to react, to obey his instincts.
To protect.
No one deserved to be treated that way. No one deserved to be abused, mistreated, held captive and condemned to a life of fear.
He snarled through his fangs.
Dumped his backpack and stripped off his t-shirt.
These bastards were going to pay for what they were doing.
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Book 1: Kissed by a Dark Prince (FREE AT SELECTED RETAILERS)
Book 2: Claimed by a Demon King
Book 3: Tempted by a Rogue Prince
Book 4: Hunted by a Jaguar
Book 5: Craved by an Alpha
Book 6: Bitten by a Hellcat
Book 7: Taken by a Dragon
Book 8: Marked by an Assassin
Book 9: Possessed by a Dark Warrior
Book 10: Awakened by a Demoness
Book 11: Haunted by the King of Death
Book 12: Turned by a Tiger
Book 13: Tamed by a Tiger
Book 14: Treasured by a Tiger
BLP REVIEW ~ Tracy
Treasured by a Tiger is the 14th book in the Eternal Matesseries by Felicity Heaton and unlike some long running series I’ve read in the past, this one keeps running at a pace and never fails to engage!
Grey and Lyra’s story finds us back in hell, encountering dragons and other paranormal beings.
The story arc around Archangel continues and a new puzzle piece is added to the mystery.
Character dual POV makes for great reading as ever. Grey is certain that no-one is ever gonna love him as he is so different from the rest of the Tiger shifter pride while Lyra is determined never to get involved with another Hellcat shifter following her hellish experience at the hands of the last hellcat male she encountered. Grey has a little secret that could seriously end the building feelings and budding relationship between the pair.
The chemistry and attraction between the couple was powerful and great to read, not that we’d expect any less from Felicity.
As ever, this was a well written, engaging, interesting read with suspense, action and loads of attraction and heat.
I can’t wait for more in this series and look forward to meeting some of the new characters we were introduced to in Treasured!
5 well deserved stars.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons! If you’re a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will enjoy her books too.
If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling Vampire Erotic Theatre series. Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled with hot-blooded alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons to shifters and angels, then take a look at the new Eternal Mates series.
If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places:
WEBSITE | BLOG | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS | INSTAGRAM
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