Good morning, everyone! Let's see, it was last winter when Immortal Trust came out, and it's well past time for another installment. You've been waiting patiently--and not so patiently for some--but here it is!
IMMORTAL SACRIFICE
The Curse of the Templars, Book IV
In the wake of an Italian mobster’s death, the archangels
charge Immortal Templar Knight Caradoc of Asterleigh with protecting a necklace
that contains Christ’s tears. He vows to bring the relic home, never imagining
he’ll have to battle Isabelle Speranza, the only woman he’s ever loved and whom
he left in a futile attempt to protect her heart. Discovering she’s his fated seraph changes
everything. For the dark lord Azazel is
hunting the Templar mates.
Isabelle lost her heart to Caradoc in a whirlwind affair
abroad, only to be abandoned in the middle of the night. When she encounters Caradoc in Sicily
As danger stalks her, Isabelle reveals an unbelievable
secret. To save them both, Caradoc must
accept her truths, even if it means turning from everything he’s sworn to
uphold.
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EXCERPT:
Bliss rocketed through her body,
lighting her up from the inside out.
This was what she’d wanted, what she’d craved, for nearly three
years. Caradoc holding her, kissing her,
telling her all the words he’d once whispered with just the touch of his
tongue.
Apologies flowed between them,
words she no longer cared about and yet somehow inherently understood. Urgency replaced the gentleness of his
mouth. The slow, sensual stroke of his
tongue became demanding. Possessive.
Isabelle surrendered with a
muffled cry, and they came together with startling ferocity. He hauled her close, eroding every last bit
of her rational thought with the press of his strong, hard body. Heat filtered through their clothing, warming
her skin and warding away the lingering chill in her veins.
Too long she’d known this only in
memory. Too long she’d relied on distant
sensations to nurse her soul-deep yearning.
But now it was real. Caradoc was
here. Kissing her as if nothing had
changed between them and they were once more locked away in a cottage in England ,
lovers who couldn’t get enough of one another.
The slide of his hand along the
length of her spine stirred her heartbeat into an erratic rhythm. Each staccato pulse shot zings of ecstasy to
every nerve ending she possessed until they all stood on end and her body
trembled with sensory overload. His
powerful arms surrounded her. His mouth
dominated. His broad chest offered
shelter from every catastrophe she could imagine.
She couldn’t get enough. Hungered for every bit of raw emotion that
Caradoc had once exposed her to. Craved
the feel of his skin sliding against hers, the sensation of taking him into her
body and knowing him only as a lover could.
She squirmed against the building ache within her womb and gave in to a
soft moan.
The sound, however, jolted her
back to reality, and the harsh realism sent her crashing through ecstasy to
land in a bruised heap on the cold hard truth.
This wasn’t the man who made her believe in dreams and fairytales. This was the man who’d sworn his love then
left her to wake up confused and alone.
Isabelle shoved out of his
embrace. “I’m not doing this,” she
rasped. Not in a hundred years. Make
that a hundred centuries.
She straightened her skirt then
bent over to pick up her purse that had landed on the floor some time
earlier. Slinging it over her shoulder,
she bolted for the door.
“Isabelle, wait!” Caradoc caught up with her in four determined
strides. His fingers wrapped around her
wrist. “I did not mean for that to
happen.”
“Of course not!” She gave her arm a fierce jerk at the same
time she opened the door. “You didn’t
mean it before, why should you now?”
~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com
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