Blood Vengeance (Blood Curse Series Book 7) Read Online Free PDF

Tiffany’s skin like a pair of skeletal hands reaching from the grave. The wind was beginning to howl, the thick scent of pine was wafting to her nostrils, and the moment seemed utterly surreal.
    She gulped, and then she shivered. The dangerous sentinel was not playing around. He was not offering her an olive branch or a half-dozen roses, and he was not trying to gently romance her into his arms. And somehow, in that terrifying moment, she knew that all of her fears were warranted: Ramsey Olaru was not Napolean Mondragon. He was not one of the Silivasi brothers or even the former Dark One, Saber Alexiares. He was a feeding , hunting, killing machine; and he would offer her no quarter, make no allowances, spare her no indignity just to make it easier.
    Despite his uncanny, model-worthy good looks, his somewhat civilized mannerisms, and his obvious keen intelligence, he may as well have been a Viking himself, a relic from a time gone by. Ramsey Olaru was all hard muscle and grit, stout bearing and implacable resolve. He was six feet five inches of stunning, almost unnatural beauty, and he was hard as granite, inside and out.
    What was worse, he believed without hesitation that Tiffany belonged to him, and he wasn’t about to let her walk away. Not that she could blame him—his very life depended upon her acquiescence—but still, he could have at least tried to ease her mind, perhaps assuage her fears, or even appeal to her heart. Yet he had done none of the above. He had ordered her to get down off the horse and laced it inside of a threat.
    Tiffany struggled to swallow her fear, as impossible as that was, and then she tried a different approach. “You’re really kind of scaring me, Ramsey,” she whispered.
    He frowned. “Yeah, and you’re really kind of starting to tick me off.” He drew up to his full, imposing height. “Get down off that horse, Tiffany. I’m not going to ask you again.”
    She knew that he meant it, and she couldn’t win this battle.
    Not here.
    Not now.
    Not today.
    She kicked the horse a few paces forward—away from the cliff—placed her hand around the horn, and slowly dismounted from the saddle. As Ramsey sidled up beside her to take the Percheron’s reins, she sidestepped out of his way and hugged her arms to her chest. “Do you even have a conscience?” she muttered in a surly tone.
    He led the enormous animal away from the cliff, while she took slow, hesitant steps behind him, and then he glanced over his shoulder to meet her questioning gaze. “You ever listen to ‘Blaze of Glory’ by Bon Jovi? The lyrics?”
    Tiffany drew back in surprise. “What?” He was asking her about a retro rock song? Now? “Yeah, I’ve heard it a time or two,” she said. And then she tried to recall some of the words: I’m a devil on the run, a six gun lover, a candle in the wind… Seemed appropriate enough, in a disturbing kind of way, but what in the world was he trying to tell her?
    Ramsey suddenly stopped walking and turned to face her. He reached out with a surprisingly gentle hand, cupped the side of her face with his fingers, and brushed his thumb ever so softly against the warmth of her cheek. “ You ask about my conscience, and I offer you my soul .” The words were a mere whisper of sound as he held her gaze with his, his stunning hazel eyes revealing the barest glimpse of vulnerability, the soul inside the sentinel.
    Tiffany drew in a sharp intake of breath and tried not to shiver, even as chills shot down her spine and settled in her toes.
    He knew he had nothing refined to offer.
    He knew he was a hardened vampire, all rough, jagged edges and hard-lined planes.
    Yet, he offered her…
    His soul?
    She brushed his hand away. The touch was too intimate to bear. And then she fell into a silent step beside him as she followed him back to the vale.
     

two
    Deep in the bowels of the Dark Ones’ colony, Salvatore Nistor glared at the infernal cube beside his bed. Earlier that night, it