Romans & histoires Voyage Of The Damned Book

He had written the first part of the note in clear, neat print. But a second note, scribbled almost illegibly at the bottom of the napkin, was written in panic, the pen he had used poking holes and dragging the fibrous paper in some spots. Damian's fleet is here. They'll make port by tomorrow morning. They plan to invade. Don't get involved, cut your engines and stay hidden. Stay in the waters off Valoria and I will come to you. "Let me show you to the galley. You and your men can stay the night—"

Chapter 9: Lessons in Control DAMIEN’S POV The morning light spilled across my desk in gold fragments, but all I could think about was the girl upstairs. The image of her skin blistered by boiling water still haunted me—not because I couldn’t stomach pain, but because it wasn’t supposed to be hers. I’d seen warriors bleed out in my hands without flinching, yet one broken look from Anya Voss had managed to claw its way under my skin and settle there like a curse.

I cant help but ask my dragon. This my human is proof of your redemption and mine. The sin I committed in the past has been forgiven by our mate. She was able to pick up our broken pieces and once more make us whole. Our soul is no longer dark and tainted. Now as you can see it rushes like the waves of an ocean. It can cause destruction but even more it can cleanse the world.

He looked into her eyes uncomfortably as he swallowed. "And so I had done it Lou. I agreed to work for them. I took the next available flight to Europe, and never looked back or reached out to you for fear of putting you in danger." He looked into her eyes as she reached out for his hand to console him, wiping away a stray tear with her other free hand.

Eryth. Pain exploded behind my eyes instantly. I staggered backward into Damion’s chest as another wave of memory crashed through me without warning. Fire consuming a city skyline. Massive gates collapsing inward. People screaming as shadows poured through broken streets. And standing in the center of it all— that same creature. Whole. Unbroken. Worshipped. My breathing turned ragged. “Jane.” Damion’s hands tightened on my arms. “Talk to me.” I could barely hear him.

A scream was ripped out of me as I began to free-fall towards that ground at an unprecedented speed. He was going to kill me. Sólas was done with the challenge to his authority, and my dismissal of his words was the last straw. I was going to die. I screamed and clawed at the empty air around me, trying to find something that will stop my fall. The same empty air that refused to stop my fall produced an enormous figure above me and caught me in its large claw. I gripped the scales around the claw desperately trying to hold on to something before I fell again. My heart was slamming against my chest. The impact of the talons grasped knocked the wind out of me. I began to kick and jerk at the s

Damien clasped her hand and tugged her towards the altar. "We've only known each other for three days; you don't expect me to bear myself to you," Emberlynn muttered. She was standing in front of the altar, and she could clearly see all that was on it. The chalice was placed near an open book with scribbling. The words in the book seemed to jump around, floating in the air the more she gazed at it. Emberlynn blinked, looking at Damien. His eyes were fixated on the book, but there was no intrigue in them. He didn't seem fazed at all.

I stared at the book written in Bold black and white font with the title: A New Pet for the Mafia King By Author Liy Lah. I frowned, my fingers tracing over the letters as my mind turned over the words. Why the hell did Damien have this? Of all the books and genres to have, this was the last I expected to find in his meticulously arranged library. A mafia romance? Really? I flipped it open, scanning the first few quotes lines beginning each chapter. "She was nothing but a lost soul when he found her. Her caged soul was too desperate for freedom but too tangled in the chains he had placed around her.

The engine stuttered once before catching again, the sound making my heart jump because six hours on this barely functional boat suddenly seemed optimistic. "Get some rest." Damien pulled me down to sit on the floor, his back against the hull. "Once we get to Sicily we won't have time to sleep, won't have safe places to let our guard down. So sleep now while you can." I curled against him, letting the boat's rocking motion and the engine's rumble lull me into an uneasy doze where I dreamed of bullets and blood and a man with Damien's eyes but none of his guilt standing over bodies that looked like mine.

Fate would determine which version of Georgia emerged from all of this. Which storms turned out to be worth the devastation they brought. Which wreckage, in the end, turned out to be the beginning of something. ----- Lord Brocandale didn't touch her. He didn't need to. That's the most dangerous kind of man there is. -- J