Bound
The
Cities Below
Book
Two
Jen
Colly
Genre:
Paranormal Romance
Publisher:
Kensington/Lyrical
Date
of Publication: January 31, 2016
ISBN:
9781516101474
ASIN:
B01FBZXSES
Number
of pages: 200
Cover
Artist: Valerie Tibbs
Book
Description:
The
streets are a battleground for humans, vampires, and demons
alike—where survival is a skill, love is a weapon, and the most
dangerous act is to care for another . . .
Keir
is an assassin devoted to Lady Arianne, the last of her royal
bloodline. He is sworn to protect her, and that means eliminating any
threat to her life. But while on a mission, he is set upon by a pack
of demons, barely escaping with his life.
Cleopatra
lives by a set of rules so rigid she no longer knows her true self.
But her kind and loving nature resurfaces when she finds a man,
bloodied and dying. Moved to help him, she risks her future and her
life to save a stranger far below her aristocratic station.
Their
attraction to each other is as powerful as it is forbidden. But even
as their love grows, Keir keeps his true identity a secret—and this
lie is not the only threat to their love . . . or their lives.
Excerpt:
Cleopatra
was utterly trapped. She longed to close her eyes and block him out,
but fear of the unknown kept them wide open. The man had no weapon,
couldn’t possibly mean to harm her. Except, would he really need a
weapon? She couldn’t fight him, wouldn’t even know where to
begin.
He
studied her closely, and when his head tilted slightly, she noticed
every bit of his focus fixated on her neck. Not a murderer. He wanted
to mark her, to bite her neck, leave the wound to heal and forever
bind her to him. This was why daughters of the aristocracy were kept
under a tight watch. The mark, unbreakable and indisputable, would
give this man access to her family’s wealth and prestige, and bind
her to him until death.
He
reached for her, head descending to her neck. Cleopatra quickly
covered his target with both hands. Tears gathered in her eyes,
sorrow distorted her voice. “I don’t want this. Please, don’t
hurt me.”
The
man rocked back as if she’d smacked him, and for the first time
since he’d appeared, he looked at her face. His eyes met hers and
didn’t look away as he brought his hand to her cheek and brushed
away a tear. He saw her, truly saw her, and the adoration in his eyes
sent a completely different shimmy down her spine.
In
one step, he crowded her, pressing his cheek against hers. “Could
never hurt you. My angel,” his captivating voice crooned, so close
to her ear. He drew in a deep breath, his face buried in her hair.
Then he whispered, “My Cleo.”
She
gasped. The shortened version of her name on his lips sounded
strangely intimate, as though he’d known her for years. The warmth
rolling off his body kept her intensely aware of his close proximity,
and she held her breath, waiting for his next move to prove his
intent. He didn’t bite her, didn’t hurt her, and the sincere
affection in his gentle touch left her so very confused. Any other
man would have bitten her, taken advantage of the opportunity laid
before him. But this man? His intent to bite her had been
unmistakable, and he’d stopped because he…cared for her? She
didn’t understand.
His
hand slipped from her face, dropped to his side, and he staggered
back, moving as if through a dream. He still watched her, but he
swayed, that intense focus suddenly gone. The man crumpled to the
floor with a heavy thud.
Dragging
in a long, shaky breath, she blinked away tears she’d been staring
through. A few more deep breaths, and she allowed herself to really
look at him. He lay on his side, knees slightly curled, motionless.
Something was wrong with him. People didn’t just fall over.
Gripping
the railing, which had swiftly become her personal anchor, she
pointed her foot and gingerly nudged his arm. When he didn’t move,
she put more force behind the kick. Cleopatra jumped as his hand fell
away from his ribs, thumping onto the floor. Blood coated his
fingers.
He
was bleeding? She’d missed the injury completely. The saturated,
glistening spot had been hidden under his hand and camouflaged by his
black button-up shirt. He’d been so close and she hadn’t… She
glanced down at herself. Blood streaked across her pale blue gown,
more evidence of his severe injury.
The
elevator doors slid open. Oh God, if someone were to see them
together in this state, what would they think? What would happen to
her, or to him? Her heart hammered, panic flooding through her as she
peeked out into the main corridor of Sterling.
The
white, gold-trimmed corridor stretched on, empty. The elevator doors
slid shut, and there it would stay, unless called. She might not have
much time. Peering down at the unconscious man, she tried to fit the
puzzle pieces together.
She’d
mistaken his intent. He’d needed sustenance badly, and now he bled
out, dying at her feet. Because of who she was, he refused to harm
her, to take from her. How did he have the willpower to block his
instincts from taking over, to stop from feeding?
Whoever
he was, she had to save him. She dropped to her knees and pushed away
any lingering fear under her newfound resolve. Tugging his shirt from
his dark jeans, she searched for the injury. In the midst of his
blood-slicked skin, the wound gaped open between his ribs. It looked
like he’d been slashed, the nasty gash a result of being on the
wrong end of a knife. Just a guess. She had no experience with this
sort of villainy.
Her
hand flew to her mouth. The murderer running loose in Galbraith used
a knife. Could this man be yet another victim?
“Can
you hear me? What happened to you? Who did this?” She awkwardly
patted his whiskered cheek. His eyes fluttered open, then shut again.
“Balinese
is safe.” His voice trembled, his words slurred without support
from his shallow breath. “Paris. Demons.”
Cleopatra’s
fingers fumbled as she pulled away his shirt collar. Several
teeth-like gouges in his shredded skin oozed blood near his
collarbone. Demons. They’d almost made a meal of him, and he was a
bloody mess, but the real danger came from that knife wound. It
looked deep, and if he’d been damaged internally and lost too much
blood, he might not survive.
He
needed blood now. She bit her wrist and pressed it against his mouth.
His lips didn’t part, and his body refused to respond. A rivulet of
blood slid down his cheek. He’d die if she didn’t fight for him.
About
the Author:
Jen
Colly is the rare case of an author who rebelled against reading
assignments throughout her school years. Now she prefers reading
books in a series, which has led her to writing her first paranormal
romance series: The Cities Below. She will write about anything that
catches her fancy, though truth be told, her weaknesses are pirates
and vampires.
She
lives in Ohio with her supportive husband, two kids, one big fluffy
dog, and four rescued cats.
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