Hey guys! Thanks for stopping by today! I apologise that its a little late up, had a terrible headache the entire day:( Anyway, I know I was supposed to write a review, and I seriously can't wait to read it, but I've been so busy it completely slipped my mind until like, today. Don't worry, I'll review it real soon! And I think this is one book you're gonna have to read! It looks simply amazing! And the cover? Whoa. So yep, enjoy!
And now, let's meet some of the main characters in The Third Fate.
Meet Cael Maccinnnis...
'Perched on the concrete ledge, chilled night air whirled around his head, not that the cold bothered him. Fall had arrived. Dusky shades of twilight lingered in the west, but that, too, was of little consequence. Breathing in deeply, Cael savored the smell of blood, of humanity pervading the night air. He needed to feed.
Arriving in Glasgow to attend to business, now concluded, Cael had the city spread below, a pagan offering on the altar of his hunger. Feeding from mortals offered sustenance. With little strength to be gained from their blood and the absence of the sensuality found in feeding from another vampire, Cael approached the necessity with resigned indifference - unless hunger grew too strong, as he had allowed this time.'
Meet Paige Kinnell...
'Paige blinked, once, twice, peering about her entryway in hazy confusion.
I really need to get some sleep...
Throwing her woolen wrap over the bench, she slumped down, prying the chic heels from her tired feet with a sigh of relief. Twelve hour days plus her commute wreaked havoc on her fashionable tastes. Weariness swept over her, and for once, she omitted her regular habit of sitting with a mug of hot tea to unwind and headed straight for the shower.
Half-an-hour later, cozy in flannel pajamas, Paige sank into her overstuffed chair, pulling the yellow chenille blanket around her shoulders. She was alone; she'd checked the doors and windows twice, but the nagging sensation of a watchful presence lingered eerily. Reaching for her neck, Paige again felt the strange tingling ache surge beneath her fingers.
What is going on with me tonight?
Shaking her head and snuggling into the chair, she stretched her legs on the ottoman and sank into deep sleep. When her phone chirped much later, she uttered apologies in her dreamlike stupor and returned to sleep like the dead. As her body rested, her mind came alive, sensual images filling her dreams - images of a man.
Meet Pilar...
''Pilar,' he ground raggedly, 'in the name of all you hold dear, remove yourself from my presence before I...'
One look at him altered her disposition. He turned to her, breathing heavily, the green-gold beauty of his eyes hidden beneath fevered blood lust. She made to leave, to abandon her plan, but his thrall caught her, binding her in place as he slowly approached.
'Malcolm?' she breathed in a hush, no notion of whether this was the same man she loved.
She'd never seen him like this. He only came nearer. Pressing his lips to her forehead, Malcolm's hands trailed over her shoulders and arms as he breathed in her sweet scent. He nuzzled her neck, scraping his fangs, now elongated in anticipation of tasting her, against her tender flesh. A whimper escaped her, and Pilar understood without doubt that she had overplayed her hand.'
Meet Malcolm...
'A faint knock interrupted his brooding.
'Enter,' he commanded.
The gold-leafed handle turned silently, admitting Pilar Michaels, her head held high, shoulders straight. Pride marked her features, the Roman nose, dark mysterious eyes, small bow-like mouth with full lips.
By the Fates she was beautiful.
She was also his enemy. Supposedly.
Malcolm ceased his pacing, greeting her formally.
'Welcome to my home. I hope you will be comfortable during your visit.'
Her head tipped in deferential reply, a slight action with mammoth implications.
'You have need of my skills, Malcolm of Clan Gaunson. I, too, have need of yours,' Pilar reasoned. 'Perhaps we can help one another.'
'Do you propose an alliance of sorts?' Malcolm returned smartly.
'An alliance?' she mocked, yet humor glinted in shining eyes. 'Surely reciprocity is a more apt term, Malcolm. Or would you prefer we enter into a more permanent agreement?'
Malcolm caught her innuendo, breathing deeply. He would make no reply. It was safer that way.'
Meet The Fates...
'Charity, what are you doing?' Harry inquired, seeking her for a game he and Jael had dreamed up.
'Playing, silly,' she giggled, setting the glowing orb on the side table and skipping off to join her siblings.
'Playing what?' curiosity prompted him to ask.
'What else but a game?' Charity laughed, taking Harry's hand. 'Shall we play something new today?'
'Oh, yes!' Harry exclaimed, distracted from his questioning for the moment. 'But Jael wants to play hurricane! We haven't played hurricane in a very long time. Say you'll play, Charity!'
'Well...,' Charity considered. 'It has been a very long time since we played hurricane. We'll have to convince Old Zephyr to join us. It's no fun at all unless he blows his hardest.'
Harry ran ahead yelling for Jael, and Charity smiled, thinking of her own game a moment before giving her attention fully to the upcoming festivities. She, her brother Harry, and sister Jael had loved games as long as she could remember, since Father Time set the hands of his wondrous clock in motion. Now time marched on, but Charity and her siblings remained the same, children ever indulging in their beloved games.'
Closing out the program on her laptop, Paige Kinnell ordered her desk in preparation for her busy schedule in the morning. The pink memo jarred her memory, and she made a mental note to gather two adjunct librarians to pull a book collection for Martyr's Public School. Fifth grade students were to delve into the tangled relationship between the Island countries, a relationship which eventually led to their unification into Great Britain. It was her job as a Junior Librarian at The Mitchell, the main library in Glasgow, to see that the materials these children explored transported them into the dramatic and fascinating history that foreshadowed their joining into the nation they were today.
Surrounding silence exacerbated the echo of her heels as she traversed the lengthy trek toward the exit. Traveling the hallways, she conjured the image of the little girl she'd found in the library earlier, a smile playing on her lips. The tiny blond of about five or six years old looked forlorn, and Paige suspected she had gotten separated from her mother. Not wanting to frighten the child by suggesting she was lost, Paige introduced herself and asked if she wanted to play a game. The child brightened, gifting Paige the sweetest smile and readily agreeing. Paige threw together a simple game, guessing at who may belong to the little girl by asking questions about the people in the library. The child had beamed when Paige asked all sorts of silly questions along with serious ones until an older girl of about nine arrived to collect her sister. Paige had learned the tiny girl's name when the young lass ran back and hugged her tightly, thanking her for a lovely game.
I hope I see you again someday, Miss Kinnell. You can call me Jael.
Senior Librarian Barbara Ross rounded the corner at the far end of the hall saving Paige the trouble of tracking the older woman down before leaving.
“Ms. Ross!” Paige called to her, but the woman entered one of the offices without hearing.
The idea of waiting outside for her boss to re-emerge prompted Paige's stomach to protest loudly. Delaying dinner was an unpopular prospect, especially where her appetite was concerned. Thankfully a second later Barbara Ross appeared once again and headed straight toward her.
She called out, “Ms. Ross!”
The woman made no reply, continuing in her unhurried, staunch manner until they were quite within distance that she could speak in her low, even, librarian voice.
“Miss Kinnell,” she greeted with a nod of her graying head. “What may I do for you?”
“I was just readying to leave, Ma'am,” Paige responded, eager to depart for her favorite restaurant. “Is there anything you need from me before I go?”
“The new shipment of reference books arrived this afternoon and has been checked in by the aides. Each title will need cataloged and entered into the system tonight. Can you handle that, Miss Kinnell?”
Paige would never show her disappointment outwardly. She loved her job. For once, though, she'd hoped to steal out on time. Cataloging the countless volumes would take hours. So much for dinner plans. Brooke and Lara would understand. They always did.
“I'll get right on that, Ms. Ross,” Paige offered cheerily despite her disappointment.
“Very well.”
The older woman continued walking, pausing a few steps from Paige and smiling back at her in her doting headmistress way.
“Allan is bringing you a steak dinner, Miss Kinnell, my treat. That is your favorite?”
Paige returned the smile, half wanting to scream over her foiled plans, half wanting to hug Ms. Ross for knowing her favorite dinner and bothering to get it.
“What would I do without you, Ms. Ross?”
“Probably starve away to nothing,” Barbara Ross teased dryly, resuming her duties.
Retracing her steps to the ample office she shared with fellow Junior Librarians, Allan Murphy and Bethany Fraser, Paige dialed her phone, dreading the conversation to come.
“Lara? Hi. It's me.”
The barrage.
“I know, I know. But I have to work late. Sorry.”
She held the phone away from her ear, laughing at her cousin's indignation, comforted that it was on her behalf.
“Okay, then. See you tomorrow.”
At least I'm still having steak for dinner.
* * *
Perched on the building's concrete ledge, chilled night air whirled around his head; not that the cold bothered him. Fall had arrived. Dusky shades of twilight lingered in the west, but that, too, was of little consequence. Breathing deeply, Cael savored the smell of blood, of humanity in the air. He needed to feed.
Arriving in Glasgow earlier in the week to attend to business matters, Cael now had the city spread below him, a pagan offering on the altar of his hunger. Feeding from humans offered sustenance. With little strength to be gained from their blood and the absence of the sensuality found in feeding from another vampire, Cael approached the necessity with resigned indifference – unless hunger grew too strong as he had allowed this time. Among mortals certain blood was potent, and Cael searched the populace below for the scent of Highland blood. He would enjoy drinking tonight, perhaps more than he had allowed himself in far too long.
The West End bustled, its many businesses overflowing patrons onto the sidewalks as they waited for tables, browsed the shops after work, or headed for the popular clubs abounding in this bohemian section of the city. Cael preferred to hunt here, finding a rich variety of blood – and greater ease of feeding. He wanted so much more this night than to merely feed. But that was impossible.
His kind shunned mating with mortals. It was dangerous. The possibility, however rare, of producing a half-breed brought swift punishment from the Council and death to the discovered child and human woman who carried it. The act of feeding from a human did not produce sexual urges, nor was it intended to. It was just that – feeding, leading Cael to question why the rule had been necessary in the first place. The desire to drink and fuck was a joy to be shared solely between vampires, the pleasure of engaging in the erotic act by a vampire male and his mate incomparable. Vampire clubs, wildly popular among younger vampires, offered numerous partners for the choosing, but Cael didn't embrace hedonism. Perhaps he'd purged it from his system over the millennia.
One out of the handful of remaining ancients, Cael Maccinnis of the Clan Maccinnis, natural born of the Highlands, had traveled the globe over the aeons. He'd done his share of feeding and fucking. The strings to the past were strong within him this night, the nearing of Samhain the likely culprit. On that night the curtain between the worlds of the living and the dead was thinnest, and for sensitive beings like the vampire those souls seeking release were a powerful force, ushering in a few weeks of turbulence.
Refocusing on the task at hand, Cael scanned the crowd.
It was time to choose prey.
Soundlessly he descended to the city street, blending amongst the throngs strolling Byres Road in their quest for night-life entertainment. Strong scents assailed his nostrils, now burning with the overabundance of cologne and perfume. He never would understand the humans' desire to cover their heady, natural smell. Quickly he marked off the strongest blood near him, honing on the savory hint to maneuver near. It was male – not surprising. By looks, his victim likely carried traces of Saxon blood, Cael mused, his thirst increasing with the knowledge. Turning onto Ashton Lane the group he trailed proceeded on toward The Chip, a popular restaurant. Cael settled in. Barring the arrival of a more attractive meal, he would feast soon enough.
Just before his mark reached the eatery a foreign and nigh intoxicating scent intruded, breaking Cael's fixation on the Saxon-blooded male and luring him in another direction. Its pull was strong; the undertones of ancient tastes swam in his memories as he sought the source of his distraction. Like a lover, the scent beckoned him across countless city blocks, drawing him near only to elude him at every intersection. He knew he grew nearer.
A heartbeat sounded in his ear, the pumping of blood through his victim's body the sound he locked onto. He strained his senses to identify more fully what drew him. For the first time in ages, he could not. Although the scent pervaded the area, its source remained a mystery beyond the cursory. Female. Vampire. He wanted it.
By the time he noticed the delicate creature walking toward the townhouse tenement Cael was savage with blood lust. Hunting, stalking, locked onto the female's heartbeat, his senses warned.
Human - vampire – no...human.
Fighting the urge to drink was beyond him, the scent of the female vampire so near, so strong – so made for him - that his cock strained against his jeans and his fangs elongated in the erotic hunger denied him for so long. His eyes burned, reddening with the impending promise of fulfillment.
Drinking and fucking.
He wanted. Desired. Needed.
The human female froze, wide eyed in the shadow of his large form. Any trace of fear was erased the instant he soothed her with the thrall of hypnosis. Her pounding heart hammered in his ears, sounding in time with the nearby female vampires, mingling with his hunger, his thirst, his desire. Cael could not discern her scent, her heartbeat, from the vampire's. Pleasure flooded his mind, his body, as he bent to suckle the tender flesh of her exposed neck, her scent so powerful that he lost himself in its ritualistic lure. Unable to deny his thirst for a taste of her, he willed it, and the serene woman granted him access to the apartment she had been about to enter. Backing her against the hallway plaster, awash with the ancient promise of her blood Cael deepened his thrall, sinking his fangs deep to draw her essence into himself. Unlike any mortal he had ever fed from, she writhed against him in the sensuality meant for vampires.
It should not be so; yet it was.
He battled, desperate to gain mastery over his compulsion to claim her body, realizing he drank far more deeply than he should allow himself. He took as if she were vampire – but a female vampire would be drinking from him as well, replenishing, sharing. This delicate creature needed her blood to survive.
Begrudgingly he relinquished her neck, swirling his tongue over the wounds to heal them. Her cry of frustration startled him. Even under the power of his enthrallment she retained awareness, adding to the tumult in his mind and body. What he desired was unnatural.
By Arawn! She's a mortal! What is wrong with me?
More troubling, however, was her reaction to his bite. He took her face in his hands, studying her intense bereavement at his denying their shared desire. The striking green eyes, slightly upturned at their corners, and fair complexion held him in countless minutes of admiration, her simple beauty arresting. He could not trust himself any longer and lowered his lips to hers in a brief, brushing kiss. It was an unacknowledged promise to return. The softness of her silken lips remained in Cael's thoughts, torturing, taunting, beckoning.
He spoke the ancient words, masking his presence in her mind and the memory of what had passed before disappearing into the October night.
* * *
“Charity, what are you doing?” Harry inquired, seeking her for a game he and Jael had dreamed up.
“Playing, silly,” she giggled, setting the glowing orb on the side table and skipping off to join her playmates.
“Playing what?” curiosity prompted him to ask.
“What else but a game?” Charity laughed, taking Harry's hand. “Shall we play something new today?”
“Oh, yes!” Harry exclaimed, distracted from his questioning for the moment. “But Jael wants to play hurricane! We haven't played hurricane in a very long time. Say you'll play, Charity!”
“Well...,” Charity considered. “It has been a very long time since we played hurricane. We'll have to convince Old Zephyr to join us. It's no fun at all unless he blows his hardest.”
Harry ran ahead yelling for Jael, and Charity smiled, thinking of her own game a moment before giving her attention fully to the upcoming festivities. She, her brother Harry, and sister Jael had loved games as long as she could remember, since Father Time set the hands of his wondrous clock in motion. Now time marched on, but Charity and her siblings remained the same, children ever indulging in their beloved games.
* * *
Paige blinked her eyes once, twice, peering about her entryway in hazy confusion.
I really need to get some sleep...
Throwing her woolen wrap over the bench she slumped down, prying the chic heels from her tired feet with a sigh of relief. Twelve hour days plus her commute wreaked havoc on her fashionable tastes. Weariness swept over her, and for once she omitted her regular habit of sitting with a mug of hot tea and magazine to unwind and headed straight for the shower.
Half-an-hour later, cozy in flannel pajamas, Paige sank into her favorite overstuffed chair, pulling the yellow chenille blanket around her shoulders. She was alone; she'd checked the doors and windows twice. But the nagging sensation of a watchful presence lingered eerily. Reaching for her neck, Paige again felt the strange tingling ache surge beneath her fingers.
What is going on with me tonight?
Shaking her head and snuggling into the chair she stretched her legs on the ottoman and sank into deep sleep. Her phone chirped much later, and she uttered apologies in her dreamlike stupor, returning to sleep like the dead. As her body rested, her mind came alive. Erotic images filled her dreams - images of a man. Tall, well over six feet in height with hair the color of blackest midnight and piercing blue eyes, he looked upon her, whispered her name, touched her. She was in paradise! The presence surrounded, occupying all senses at once. Earthy and masculine, his scent filled her with every breath. His voice, low and husky, rumbled through her body with every utterance. His form, hovering over and around her, awakened every nerve in her flesh, leaving her trembling under his gaze and aching for his caress. Yet she could not really see him for the haze in her mind. The images were jumbled, distorted, frustrating. Suddenly, he was solid before her again. But his eyes were now blood red, his gaze hungry and sexual in a way that frightened her.
And aroused her.
In predatory manner he smelled her, a terrifying and wildly sensual groan emanating from him as he gripped her head, tilting it to expose her neck to his mouth. His eyes raked over her, and terror welled inside Paige at the sight of his incisors elongating.
He was vampire.
She made to scream, but no sound escaped her. In helplessness she felt the blood being drawn from her body, feared that she would die like this, alone and afraid. A startling and disturbing truth dawned. The vampire was with her, she was not alone. Then the pleasure came. The sweet, sweet pleasure...
Chest heaving, Paige Kinnell started up from her chair.
It was a dream, Paige. Only a dream.
It took her body much longer to accept that fact. Combing her fingers through her long, blond hair, tangled after sleeping, Paige climbed from the chair and plodded to the kitchen. She wanted coffee. The rich aroma of dark roast filled her nostrils before she plucked the canister down, and she chuckled at the power of subliminal suggestion. Merely thinking of coffee produced some chemical or another in her brain that had her believing she could smell it, through an airtight container no less!
No one's olfactory senses are that developed.
The cell phone chimed her alarm, and after starting her brew station Paige shuffled to the living room to silence the cheery wake-up call, too fatigued to muster her pace. The phone blared anew, and Paige answered it testily.
“What is it, Brooke?”
The cheery voice on the other end ignored her rude beginning.
“You have something to tell us?” her cousin, Brooke, teased wickedly.
Brooke and Lara were more like sisters than cousins. Their mother, her Aunt Anna, raised her alongside them. Their being twins – and she only 5 months younger – made them more like triplets. Anna had formally adopted her and named her as her own child after her mother had died giving birth to her. It was something her Aunt refused to discuss, and Paige assumed it was too painful a memory for her to relive. The few times they talked about her mother had been brief, and Sissy – as all three girls called her, doing so since they could speak – explained that she and Paige's mother had been closer than any sisters there ever were, and that losing her own twin, Agnes, had been the most painful event of her life. After that, Paige hesitated to dredge up so awful a sorrow for her beloved Sissy.
“What would I have to tell?” Paige questioned, having no idea of what her cousin was talking about.
“Don't you dare play the shy little virgin this morning, Paige Kinnell! We want details, woman!”
Brooke's voice carried overly well through the line, and Paige held the phone away from her ear, protecting her eardrum.
“What in all of Hades are you about, calling me in the morning and asking me silly questions? Details? Of what?”
Brooke screamed in exasperation, and had Paige been at the library she would have hung up on her already. Half of Glasgow could surely hear her big mouth.
“Of that beautiful man you went on about last night on the phone! You know, the one with the black hair? The icy blue eyes? The body built to make a saint sin? That's who! Are you daft? Do you remember talking to me last night?”
Oddly, Paige did not remember that; however, she did remember the man. The man from her dreams.
Oh bother! How can I explain this?
“I must have been dreaming or something. Sorry, but there's really nothing to tell, girls.”
“Paige, honey... if those are your dreams, I need to know what you were drinking before you went to sleep!”
Brooke laughed again, relating the conversation to Lara, who guffawed in the background. Paige smiled, her first of the morning. They made her crazy, but she couldn't imagine life without them. The 'Terrible Trio', that's what Sissy had named them in their elementary years. A strong bond glued them to one another; Sissy had seen to that.
All ye really ha' is each other. Never forget that, lassies. Never. Let no soul ever come between ye.
“All right, you two. I've got to get ready for work. Call me later. Maybe I'll get out of there on time for once.”
“You should come out with us tonight,” Brooke invited. “We're going to Jinty McGinty's...It'll be fun.”
“I don't know,” Paige hesitated. “You know I don't drink much, and sitting around while everyone else does is not all that fun.”
“Oh, come on! It's been an age since you let your hair down. All work and no play make Paige a dull girl. You're too timid, Paige. How are you ever going to land a man if you...” Someone or something interrupted Brooke's sage-like lecture, saving Paige the trouble of begging off the line. “Sorry, Paige! Gotta run! I'll call you at seven sharp. And for the love of Henry wear something more risque than a turtleneck.”
The line went dead, and Paige heaved a sigh of relief, muttering as she readied for work.
“What's the matter with my turtleneck sweaters anyway?”
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