Night Series 0.5 - Night Thief by Lisa Kessler

Author:Lisa Kessler [Kessler, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Historical, Paranormal, vampire, entangled publishing, Gods, lisa kessler, paris, tortured hero, shifter, immortal
Amazon: B00C74VCSG
Publisher: Entangled: Ever After
Published: 2012-09-27T07:00:00+00:00

Marguerite bounced around inside the black prison wagon. The interior boasted no cushioned seats and no windows. The horses trotted through the cobblestoned streets, turning, stopping, and starting, until her stomach roiled with motion sickness.

It didn’t help that the interior still reeked of a recent traveler’s illness.

Closing her eyes, she forced herself to breathe through her mouth. Her bare feet were numb with cold and a tear spilled down her cheek. She’d been too confident, too brazen, and certain the police would never catch her. Now she found herself in the back of a prisoner’s wagon, being transported for questioning. The Bastille had been destroyed during the French Revolution, so she would avoid that horror, but the new prison was not something she cared to explore.

Panic seized her throat until a sob escaped. She tried to envision Kane’s face, his glorious smile, his blue eyes.

He would never let them keep her.

The carriage stopped. She opened her eyes and raised her chin, steeling her resolve. They would not see her as a broken criminal, and she would not give them the pleasure of her tears.

The back door creaked open, and blinding light filled the dark carriage. Marguerite winced, unable to raise her bound hands to shield her eyes. The officer yanked her from the carriage. Her bare feet slapped on the hard cobblestoned street, jarring her for a moment. Marguerite blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light.

She recognized this place.

Marguerite screamed. Scraping the bottoms of her feet, she resisted the officers dragging her toward Antoine’s door.

“No! I beg you!” But the officers showed no signs of slowing. Her head swiveled toward the group of people gathering on the street to watch. “Please. I have done nothing. This man will kill me. Someone help me!”

But the people stayed back, whispering to one another as Marguerite shrieked.

When the heavy front door closed behind her, her heart sank. There would be no help, and Kane would never find her before Antoine killed her.

Her struggles ended when the officer shoved her inside a tiny room where Antoine stored his art supplies. A key turned, locking the door. Pressing her ear to the wood, she heard retreating boot heels against the stone floor. The familiar sound of the large front door opening filled the hall, followed by the thud of it closing.

Once silence settled in, she turned around, feeling her way in the dark for anything she might use to open the lock on the door. Art brushes, palette boards, easels, nothing to jam into the lock.

“Marguerite?”

Her heart leapt into her throat at the sound of her cousin’s voice. She bent to the keyhole. “Callia?”

“Yes, I am here, but I cannot find the key. The officer must have taken it with him.”

Marguerite closed her eyes hard to keep from crying. “Leave me, Callia. Go back to the kitchen and keep away from Antoine.”

“No. He is angry, Cousin. I fear he will kill you this time. You have to get away before the sun sets.”

“If you help me, he will hurt you too, Callia.

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