Destiny is a southern town like no other. Its supernatural residents are bound by the Paramortal pact – no matter their species – to protect those weaker than themselves. Montana is Dinnshencha, a warrioress who can shift into any form in defense of a woman in trouble. She’s also half vamp. Relationships with men have never been easy or enduring since the object of her ire is usually the opposite sex. She’s accepted that. For centuries. Until someone left their video game on “share” in a parallel universe and Conor de Sept Flambe’, the dark knight, stalked into the Mardi Gras Ball. Why was he here?
Eve of Chaos is book 3 in the Destiny Paramortals series. As Chaos approaches, new challenges arise, alliances are forged and enemies revealed.
Former Navy pilot, now “Sheriff” Jack Lang knows something’s afoot with Conor’s appearance in Destiny. Crazies are coming out of the woodwork, Paramortals are losing their abilities, and dispositions going AWOL, Jack wants to know who will be left standing beside him when the Para-moon begins. If Flambe´ is what Jack thinks he is, the good guys might have a chance. If not, they’ll be in deep… trouble. Where’s an F-18 when you need one?
For the rest of the evening, no matter where she was, if she turned her head, and looked across the expanse of revelers she’d find his eyes locked on hers, as if he’d been waiting for her to turn. Once, she turned back toward the bar but it was oddly clear, only Flambe´ standing there, framed by the oak counter, one of his swords standing in front of him on its hilt, the tip nearly reaching the Knight’s chest. He’d been cleaning it, shining and stroking the deadly edges with a cloth, so intimately acquainted with them that he wasn’t even watching.
His attention was all on her, the rims of his eyes lined like a predator’s, causing her to shiver briefly, but if that look was for her, he should know she was not prey. By her very nature, predators were her enemy. And still she felt the pull of pure heat as if they were connected in some way.
Sometime after Tempe and Jack left, the orchestra had suddenly stopped playing the zydeco music and the unlikely strains of a minuet had filled the room. Everyone looked up in surprise. Then as it had when he entered, the crowd split, giving the swordsman a wide berth as he strode purposefully across the ballroom floor toward Montana’s side of the room, his gaze locked on hers the whole way. Surely… she broke the contact to search the area around her, but there was no one nearby. He was coming for her. Her Dinnshencha reared up, readying for this formal meeting. It seemed impossible that she hadn’t actually met him yet.
His broad black tattooed shoulders led as his long strides moved closer, the flared pants hugging his powerful thighs, flowing around his calves and the swords catching the light overhead, making them flash with dazzling fire. He came to a controlled stop inches from her and the air seemed to leave the room, the sounds of feet shifting, voices, and laughter dying as he planted his feet in front of her.
The crowd waited. She waited. Not a muscle, pore or eyelash flickered while the room held its collective breath in expectation. The Knight’s arms rose, stretching the thick tattoos across his shoulders, giving the appearance of wings spreading, preparing to lift off. The room inhaled as one. Flambe´s eyes dropped; he brought one hand to his torso, and bowed. For a matter of seconds all she could see was his shiny black shoulder length hair and the pointy tips on the tattoos. The collective “ahhs” of the women in the room penetrated her awareness as he straightened again and spoke. “Lass, may I hav’ this dance?”
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Livia Quinn is a DC native living on the bayou in Louisiana where the unique culture and weather have supplied fodder for her stories. She’s been a mail lady, plant manager, professional singer, computer trainer and salesperson and has years of quirky characters and sexy heroes to share with her readers.
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