By Patrice Michelle
Revenge is a dish most sensible served chilly. nobody is familiar with this greater than Jacqueline (Jax) Markson. Ever due to the fact that she will take note, her father has spoken of revenge—revenge opposed to all vampires. while his spouse died after giving delivery to Jax, John Markson blamed the vampire who’d bitten his pregnant spouse for his loss and he committed his existence to ridding the area of all vampires. After Jax’s vampire-hunter father is viciously killed, she takes up the reins the place he left off. Her first order of industrial: take out the vampire who killed her father. Ian (The Enforcer) Mordoor has a task to do. prior to he can take over the Ruean vampire clan’s management place, Ian vows to seek down Drace, the rogue vampire who brutally killed a human vampire hunter named John Markson. What Ian doesn’t look forward to finding in the course of his quest is his mate in a human vampire hunter named Jax--a lady who'd fairly kill than kiss him.
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Sometimes being an heiress had its good points. Her mother may not have been there to raise her, but the one thing her mother did leave behind was the considerable Wellington legacy. Tonight she left her hair down and applied a little mascara and lip gloss. No need to overdo it, she thought. Plus, she wouldn’t know how to apply blusher if her life depended on it: good thing it didn’t. She stuck her tongue out and winked at herself in the mirror before heading out for dinner. * * * * * “Thank you,” Jax murmured to the waiter as he handed her the menu and walked away.
There was just something about Jax, something elusive, and it wasn’t because she held her emotions at bay. No, he’d get to the bottom of it. First thing tomorrow, he’d have Mark Devlin check out her background. Well, after he found out her full name. He chuckled to himself. Damn, she’d managed to never tell him that part. He had to compel the bellhop to find out what floor she was on since Jax had made her hotel reservation under a fake name. He yawned. In the morning, while she showered, he’d search through her things and find out her identity.
She knew what he implied. Never with him would she feel the need to protect herself. He was the hunter. The alpha. The protector. He spoke as if they would have more than one night together. The fantasy made her shudder, her heart jerk, and thighs tremble in response. He was wrong, but she’d enjoy the fantasy for one night at least. When he stepped close to her once more, Jax put her hands on his shoulders. His golden eyes blazed, focusing on her breasts. “Red cherries,” he murmured. He licked his finger, then brushed a pebbled nipple with the wet, blunt tip.