Jeaniene Frost Into The Fire Free Download
Dedication
To anybody who's wanted to see Dracula
(excuse me, VLAD) get a happily-ever-after.
Acknowledgments
I'g going to break with the normal format by existence long-winded and personal on this Acknowledgments, and so feel free to skip. However, what I'm not going to change is my thanking God start. (I've done that for the past fourteen books, and I'm not going to stop now, especially because this past year.) My mother died over New year'due south, and since she hadn't been well for a while, I idea I had been "braced" for her death. I've since learned that some things tin can never exist braced for. Right as I was coming to terms with the depth of my grief and the never-before-experienced writer's cake that came along with information technology, my begetter had four near-expiry illnesses inside three months. If that wasn't enough, even my dog required multiple surgeries.
The release of Into the Fire was therefore delayed while I put myself back together plenty to write. More than one time, I thought the title was an apt description for my emotional state. However, I did not go through all this alone. The terminal line from the poem "Footprints" says it perfectly: "During your time of trial and suffering, when you encounter only one set of footprints, it was so that I carried you lot." Thank you, Jesus, for all the times yous carried me, both this year and every year before information technology.
I too need to thank my married man for his incredible support, not to mention my family and friends. I'd also be remiss if I didn't thank my longtime editor, Erika Tsang, and my amanuensis, Nancy Yost, for all their hard piece of work. But, since I warned you that I was going to be long-winded and personal, I'1000 going to go back to talking about my mother. For starters, she had a wicked humor, so I can almost hear her saying, "Oh, now that I'm dead, y'all're finally going to say nice things about me to your readers?" Well, better tardily than never, Mom! *wink*
In all seriousness, she was my outset fan back when I started writing verse at historic period xi. I showed her my poems, only because I was shy, I besides asked her non to share them with anyone. And then, at the next family gathering, every 1 of my relatives told me how much they'd liked them. When I confronted my mother, she said, "But, dear, I couldn't continue those to myself. I'one thousand too proud of you!" Fast forward a couple decades to my mother being unable to stop herself from blurting out "My daughter'southward a bestselling author!" to everyone she met. This embarrassed me, of grade, so I told her to stop. She mostly managed to contain herself—as long as I wasn't within earshot.
This was possibly best illustrated a few years ago when my married man and I went to his favorite clothing store. We had only been there about v minutes when one of the clerks came upwardly to me and said, "Yous write vampire novels, don't y'all?" I was dumbfounded and said, "Yes, but how do you know that?"
Turns out, my parents had been in the store the day before shopping for a birthday nowadays for my husband. True to form, my mother couldn't even continue a shopping excursion without whipping out one of my books (she carried them next to her oxygen tank in her wheelchair), showing it to the clerks, and going on and on about how her daughter was an author. She showed them my picture at the back of the book, besides, which is how the clerks recognized me. I was embarrassed past all this, of course, and apologized for the scene my mother must have caused, just the clerks only laughed and said, "Love, she'south proud of you."
I am proud of her, likewise, for as well many reasons to listing, merely I'll name a few. Three decades ago, when my father's company went out of business organisation, my mom took a job scrubbing toilets at the same hospital where my parents had previously been flush donors. She then worked her style upwardly to becoming one of the few female person directors at that hospital, even winning local, regional, and national manager'southward awards. Even so more than being an example of not letting tough circumstances defeat y'all, she also personified the importance of family unit. This wasn't by giving speeches, although she gave a lot of speeches on that topic. Instead, I learned it by watching her stay in touch with relatives even if she hadn't seen them in decades, or past seeing her forgive family grievances that seemed unforgivable, or past arguing with her over her insistence on helping relatives despite her ain stretched finances, or by seeing her open her door to any family member who needed a place to stay.
In short, I'one thousand glad for every day I had with my mother, and I'g even happier that she married my father considering he loved her in a way that not even death tin diminish. I doubt I'll live upwards to her instance (or my grandmother'south example, or my great grandmother's, or my great-aunt's, and the list goes on), but when people ask me "Why exercise you write strong heroines?" the answer is easy: I grew up seeing them.
Thank you, Mom. Love you and miss you.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter one
Chapter 2
Affiliate 3
Chapter four
Chapter 5
Affiliate 6
Chapter 7
Chapter viii
Chapter 9
Chapter x
Affiliate 11
Chapter 12
Affiliate 13
Chapter xiv
Chapter fifteen
Chapter 16
Affiliate 17
Affiliate 18
Affiliate 19
Affiliate 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Affiliate 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Affiliate 32
Affiliate 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Affiliate 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Affiliate 49
Epilogue
Night Huntress
Announcement to Halfway to the Grave
Halfway to the Grave
Annunciation to I Human foot in the Grave
One Human foot in the Grave
Announcement to At Grave's End
At Grave's Terminate
Declaration to Destined for an Early Grave
Destined for an Early on Grave
Announcement to This Side of the Grave
This Side of the Grave
Proclamation to One Grave at a Time
One Grave at a Time
Announcement to Upward From the Grave
Up From the Grave
About the Author
Praise for Jeaniene Frost
By Jeaniene Frost
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
Flight at high speeds through a forest is less dangerous than it looks. At least, that's what I told myself the few times I opened my eyes. Mostly, I kept them close. Not but because it was easier to maintain my psychic link with the human we were hunting, but I also didn't demand to know how shut we came to the countless trees Vlad maneuvered us effectually as we flew through the thickly wooded countryside.
You'll survive if he hits one, I reminded myself. We were both vampires, so we could heal almost any injury in seconds, but I hoped I wasn't about to find out how much it would hurt if nosotros splatted into a tree at over a hundred miles an hour. I already knew more than about pain than virtually people e'er would, and I didn't desire to add to that repertoire.
"Is Branson still in the manor?" Vlad said, raising his voice so the wind couldn't snatch away his words.
I ran my fingers over the chugalug buckle I'd been holding on to this entire time. It had in one case belonged to Branson, and Branson was in league with Vlad's nephew/stepson/new worst enemy, Mircea. Nosotros'd been looking for Mircea for months, nonetheless had come upwardly empty. Branson was our all-time lead on him, and shortly we'd discover out exactly what Branson knew about Mircea.
I concentrated on the essence trail that Branson had imprinted upon the belt buckle until information technology sharpened my inner focus. In one case I had followed it back to its source, my environment changed, taking on the look of an odd double exposure. Part of me saw the forest we flew through while the residual of me saw a long, ornate room with high ceilings and tall, fancy paintings lining both sides of the walls.
"Yep. He'due south pacing at present, and he keeps checking his prison cell phone."
I felt Vlad's chuckle every bit it vibrated against my brow, and it held the distinct undercurrent of a predator's growl. "He won't be waiting long for my answer."
With that, we broke through the tree line. I dropped my link and then I could run across the imposing construction I'd only glimpsed before through my psychic connection. The big house was made entirely of greyness stone, with the main building over ii stories high and ancient watch towers over the formal entryway. The tall trees hid the city across, and the vast grounds kept the other views of civilization abroad, making it look as if we'd been dropped dorsum in time several hundred years.
Since Vlad had been built-in in the fourteen hundreds, he ought to experience right at home in this medieval setting. Since I was just twenty-half-dozen, I didn't.
Vlad slowed down, dropping u.s. onto the manicured part of the backyard that surrounded the fortress. "Stay hither," he said, striding toward the entrance.
I caught up to him instead. "What part of 'we practise this together' did you translate as 'get out Leila behind'?" I hissed, keeping my voice down since nosotros weren't the just ones with supernatural hearing.
His aura broke through his inner shields. Even though he'd released only a sliver of his power, it still felt as if I'd simply gotten subconsciously scalded. If I were anyone else, I'd exist terrified at pissing off the legendary Vlad Tepesh, meaning "Impaler," aka Dracula, aka don't-e'er-call-him-Dracula-if-you-desire-to-live, only I was Mrs. Vlad Dracul, cheers very much. Uncrowned prince of darkness or no, Vlad wasn't pulling this crap with me.
"Nosotros tin fight about it until Branson hears us, or we can become him together quietly," I went on, narrowing my eyes. "Your choice."
The high-arched portico roofing the fortress's main entrance suddenly exploded, jetting out burn down and pieces of stone. I ducked from instinct, but Vlad walked correct toward the burning chaos, the fire parting to allow him pass.
"Does that answer your question?" he asked.
Earlier I could answer, a wall of fire sprang upwardly, spreading until it encompassed the unabridged castle. Guess he'd inverse his mind almost being stealthy. Worse, now I couldn't follow him. Unlike Vlad, I wasn't fireproof.
"That's cheating!" I shouted. No need to talk softly now.
I thought I heard him laugh, only between the roar of the burn down and the neat of rock from the crumpling entryway, I couldn't be sure. Damn Vlad and his archaic ideas about women in combat. He'd rather I exist nether heavy baby-sit back at his castle in Romania. I probably would be, if an enemy hadn't blown upwards his castle and kidnapped me from its rubble months ago. Otherwise, Vlad would never accept agreed to go back on his no-wife-allowed-on-killing-missions rule.
Or, I thought, eyeing the wall of burn down that only he could pass through, information technology seemed he'd only partially gone dorsum on it. My teeth ground. I could stand here and seethe, or I could make myself useful. Besides, revenge was a dish best served cold, and I would get him back. I but had to wait until everything effectually me wasn't on fire.
I rubbed the belt buckle over again, seeking the essence imprint. One time I had it, my surroundings changed into the richly furnished room that our quarry was withal continuing in. Branson wasn't looking at his phone anymore. He was staring out the window in horror at flames that leapt all the way upwardly to the roof. Branson knew only i vampire in the world could command burn down this way, and it was the aforementioned vampire that he'd been defenseless betraying.
Then Branson ran, which I expected, but he didn't head for the door. Instead, he pressed a console about one of the room'southward many paintings. A hidden door swung open up, and he darted inside a steel-lined room and closed the door before I could mentally switch channels.
Branson has a panic room! I sent to Vlad once I was tuned in to him.
Vlad paused on his way upward a long, curved staircase, giving an amused glance toward the 2d floor.
"Then he's in for another surprise."
His words reached me through our link instead of the normal way, and then the continual portico collapse must be drowning out everything else. One time I had hated my psychic abilities and so much that I'd attempted suicide, but now they came in handy. I still loathed reliving people's worst sins the first time I touched them, but nothing important came without a cost.
A red Porsche bursting through the wall of burn surprised me into dropping my link to Vlad. The machine's speed caused information technology to fishtail as soon as it hit grassy terrain. Glowing green eyes revealed that the driver was a vampire, but it couldn't be Branson. He'd locked himself in a panic room.
This had to be one of Branson'southward friends. Perchance he was in league with Mircea, too. Even if he wasn't, only someone who'd besides betrayed Vlad would be in such a hurry to exit of here. With Vlad decorated trying to bust in the panic room, I was the only person standing in the fashion of this treacherous driver and his freedom. I chased after the car. If it reached the driveway, I'd be screwed. Unlike Vlad, I couldn't fly, and the Porsche could become much faster than me once it was on flat, paved ground.
The car shot forward with a burst of speed. Damn, the driver must've spotted me. Now he was simply a dozen feet away from the driveway. I put everything I had into a desperate lunge. If I reached the machine's bumper, I could flip information technology—
I ducked when multiple cracks smashed through the dorsum windshield. Two bullets whizzed over my head, and the third ane struck me in the shoulder instead of the heart. From the fire, the bullets were argent. Of course. Any other ammunition was useless against vampires.
Pain acquired my powers to flare. A long, sizzling whip shot from my right hand and I croaky information technology toward the car. The electricity it contained caused it to tear through the Porsche'southward frame as if it were butter. More than gunshots had me spinning to avert another volley of bullets, and I used my velocity to full advantage. When I swung back effectually, my electrical whip had diffuse, and I lashed the car with all the forcefulness I had in me.
It split in two, the forepart section still going several feet earlier the motorcar'due south weight caused information technology to cave in. A burn bankrupt out, and I couldn't tell if it was those flames that fabricated the driver scream, or if I'd sliced through more than the automobile'southward frame. I stayed low as I circled around to the driver'due south door, my whip crackling every bit I readied it to strike again.
"Drop the gun and get out, or—"
I didn't get a chance to complete my threat. Flames shot over the car, too thick and numerous to be from the electric burn down. And so Vlad slammed down next to me, the basis shuddering from the force of his bear upon. He shoved me backside him and rounded on the burning car.
"You shot at my wife?" The flames intensified. High-pitched, panicked screams made me wince from more than their assault on my enhanced hearing.
I grabbed his arm. "Terminate, nosotros might need him alive."
Vlad glanced at me and saw the blood from the bullet wound in my shoulder. At once, his arm became so hot that my hand started to grab fire. I permit him go, and he turned back to the car with a smile that made further statement useless.
I knew that smile. It meant someone was about to die.
I took a few steps astern equally the screams from inside the car became fifty-fifty more frenzied. When Vlad's shields dropped and I felt the full force of his rage, it didn't surprise me to run across the Por
Then the car melted into itself as Vlad's incredible power turned metallic into molten liquid. The screams stopped. And then did the sounds of breaking glass and twisting steel. Soon, all I heard was a hiss as the footing caught burn down.
I reached out to Vlad over again, this time not dropping my hand even though his flesh even so scorched me through the thin material of his shirt. "You might want to consider working on your anger management issues," I said in a light tone.
A bawl of laughter escaped him. "So say my many enemies."
When he turned around and pulled me to him, his body was no longer scorching, and the emotions intertwining with mine at present felt only marginally insane with rage; a vast improvement. He kissed me, and I didn't care that the stubble shadowing his chiseled jaw rasped my face. All I focused on was his kiss and the wave of love pouring through our connection, even more than powerful than the rage that had caused him to melt a car as easily as a normal person could strike a friction match.
When Vlad stopped kissing me, another emotion poured through the bond that had formed the moment Vlad had raised me as a vampire. Regret.
"I shouldn't have done that." He gave a frustrated glance at the smoldering heap of melted metal. "I know amend than to kill an enemy before I interrogate him, only I saw the bullet pigsty in your shirt and . . ."
"Blew your fuse," I finished, giving him a lopsided smile. "Happens to the best of men, I'thou told."
Another harsh express mirth. "Perhaps, but never to me." Until yous, was left unsaid, merely I didn't need to feel his emotions to know he was thinking it.
"Cheer upwardly," I said, striving to lighten his mood. "Once you bust through that panic room door, yous can interrogate Branson for days, and no one volition always know you spilled your lighter fluid too soon with this guy."
This time, his laughter held hints of real entertainment. "I wait forward to such a redemption."
"Well, allow me make sure Branson didn't endeavor to run for information technology while you were out here," I said, grabbing the chugalug buckle over again. In moments, I saw the within of a modest panic room. It had a single chair, a twin set up of control panels, and several screens that showed live video feed from both the interior and the exterior of the estate.
Into the Burn by Jeaniene Frost / Mystery & Detective / Romance & Beloved / Fantasy accept rating iv out of 5 / Based on32 votes
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