Amazon's Curse by Gena Showalter

Author:Gena Showalter [Showalter, Gena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-08-29T00:18:23+00:00

They can touch me. Which means they can hurt me, Nola realized, dread sweeping through her.

Would she be alive when Zane returned?

Zane reached the vampire stronghold and collapsed at its gates. His strength—

gone. His wounds—unhealed.

Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (http://www.novapdf.com) Followed as he’d been, he wouldn’t have been able to hunt for food. Broken as he was, he’d been unable to

capture a single animal and feed himself.

Thankfully the guards recognized him. He was hefted over a shoulder and carted inside the palace. The touch

disturbed him, but he didn’t fight it. He was in too much of a hurry and knew this was the best way. By the

time they reached his personal chamber, there was a buzz of activity, his name being whispered from

everyone’s lips.

“Blood,” he rasped as the guard lay him down on the bed.

That guard tilted his head, offering his own neck.

Zane shook his head and closed his eyes. “Glass.” He would not take from a living source. Still couldn’t

stomach the thought—unless that living source was Nola. Once, when he’d ensured she would welcome him

by invading her dreams, he had tasted her. The sweetness of her blood…the decadence of her moans…and

he’d reveled in every nuance of her. He would not overshadow that precious memory by taking from

someone else, even in his desperation.

How did she affect him this way?

Perhaps he did not mind her hands on him because he saw himself in her eyes.

Saw vulnerability and pain,

fear and yearning. Perhaps they shared a similar past; she’d alluded to such a thing once before, when they’d

been pitted against each other on the island. That meant someone had hurt her at some point in her life. Hurt

her deeply and unequivocally. Zane wanted to destroy that someone, bit by bit.

Warm hands settled on his shoulders and shook him.

His eyelids fluttered open, a growl in his throat. When he saw that Layel loomed above him, glass in hand, he

forced himself to relax against the feathered mattress. “My king, I—”

“No talking just yet. Drink,” Layel said, placing the glass to his lips. Tall and leanly muscled, with white hair

and blue eyes, he was an eerily beautiful sight that reminded Zane of both his rescue from the demon queen

and the horrors he’d endured at the hands of the gods. “Drink.” Zane opened his mouth, and the sweet nectar of life poured down his throat. He swallowed greedily. Once

again, warmth spread through him. Warmth and strength and determination.

He had not lied to Nola. He was going back for her. He would conquer that damn camp and everyone inside

it. Nola will not like that. Those women are her sisters.

Well, they damn well should not have tried to enslave him, he thought darkly.

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