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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