Moonlight and Diamonds. Michele HaufЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Seduction would be necessary.
And while seduction should prove a simple task—a job, nothing more—Blyss knew once she stood in Stryke’s arms again all bets would be off. She’d fall into his beautiful brown eyes and sexy smile and wish only for his masterful kiss. A kiss that had left her breathless in the gallery office.
A kiss she wanted to taste again.
Shaking her head furiously, she battled with the devil and angel hovering above each shoulder. She would never be an angel. She tried not to be so devilish. But this afternoon she had to be a temptress and seduce.
Because if she did not, she would then have to face her beast. And that was something she could not bear.
MICHELE HAUF has been writing romance, action-adventure and fantasy stories for more than twenty years. France, musketeers, vampires and faeries populate her stories. And if she followed the adage “write what you know,” all her stories would have snow in them. Fortunately, she steps beyond her comfort zone and writes about countries and creatures she has never seen. Find her on Facebook, Twitter and at michelehauf.com. You can also write to her at PO Box 23, Anoka, MN 55303, USA.
Moonlight and Diamonds
Michele Hauf
Contents
Paris
“Achoo!”
Stryke Saint-Pierre chuckled at the power sneeze that had blown out of Summer Santiago’s two-year-old mouth. Her dad, Vail, instead of wiping his daughter’s nose and cooing reassurance, lifted his head and fiercely scanned up and down the Parisian street. They stood before the Hawkes Associates building, along with Rhys Hawkes, Vail’s stepfather. The trio were enjoying the cloudy day and discussing Rhys’s need for help.
“See any?” Rhys, a tall, salty-haired half vampire, half werewolf, asked his son.
Vail, full-blooded vampire, nodded across the street.
Stryke followed the vampire’s nod and spied a lanky man wearing a blue hoodie, tattered jeans and combat boots who strode down the sidewalk. The stranger glanced toward them. Red eyes glowed.
“Demon,” Vail confirmed. “He’s cool, though. Doesn’t appear as though he means any trouble. Does he, sweetie?” He kissed his daughter’s curly blond hair.
“Demons are not my favorite breed,” Rhys muttered. “But he looks harmless. She still allergic?” he asked Vail.
Vail, with coal-black hair and silver rings on his fingers that glinted even with the lacking sunlight, nodded. He explained to Stryke. “Ever since Summer had a little run-in with Himself last year she’s been allergic to sulfur. Good demon alarm, though.”
“How does a baby have a run-in with Himself?” Stryke had been in Paris all of two days and was staying in an apartment owned by his grandfather—the rest of his family was, as well—and what he’d learned since arriving was that paranormal breeds of all varieties were in abundance here as compared to Minnesota, which he called home.
“Himself kidnapped her,” Vail provided. “Long story. She’s good. Wasn’t hurt. But you know. Allergic now. I have to head out. Lyric is probably already at the tailor’s waiting for me. I have to try on the tuxedo again. I hope the tailor got the studs right this time.”
Stryke smirked. Vail wore black velvet jeans and a crisp black shirt with black lace around the wrists. And there was enough silver and diamonds on his wrists, ears and rings to flash signals to the moon. The vamp defined glamour rock, but with a bite.
“I sent a suit to your apartment, Stryke,” Vail said. “Your mother reported to my wife that her sons hadn’t properly packed. Ha! Anyway, not sure if they’ll fit you with a tux for the wedding. But in case not, I thought you could