New from USA Today Bestselling Author
Erzabet Bishop!
Title: Burning Midnight (Witching Hour Series Book 1)
Publisher: NNP
Publication date: January 11, 2018
Tags:
#shifter #vampire #menage #romance #PNR #paranormalromance #historical #contemporary #witches #demon #curse #murder #betrayal #loveacrosstime #fatedmates #pack #family
Blurb:
The dreams of the heart may be the darkest of all…
Kissed by the moon…
Diana Robichard runs Moon Called, an antique shop specializing in cursed objects. A new antiquity falls into her possession and promptly disappears, her tidy world is upended. When faced with a threat to those she loves the most, witchcraft alone may not be enough to save them. Blood vows and shadowy magic may hold the key, but the ultimate power might just be in the darkest recesses of her heart.
A wolf unleashed…
Alpha wolf, Aristide Benoit, is a wolf on a mission. When multiple pack members, and finally his daughter, go missing, he is ready to do whatever is necessary to find them. A pending war with the vampires looms in the distance but a blacker danger lies closer to home. Will the sexy witch destined to be his mate be his downfall, or his salvation?
Blood and fire…
Vampire Regent, Rand Sinclair, has a problem. His vault is missing an amulet never meant to see the light of day. Endangering a treaty with the wolves, he must act quickly before the woman he loves is swept into an ancient curse that will destroy them all. But can he make room in his heart and embrace a love that can set them all free?
Links:
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Excerpt:
Rand almost didn’t hear the screams. Floating in his sleeping state, the din of Blackthorn Coven had simply become a part of an ever-present hum, keeping him company as he traveled slowly through time. The new Regent had his hands full, but he had every confidence the man would keep the Coven out of harm’s way and his pledge of honor with the wolves intact.
Virgil had come to him through his bride and at the time, he’d believed the young vampire held the guts and fortitude it would take to lead their coven into the modern world.
Just like his predecessor before him, he’d stepped aside to make room for a new age. Bone weary from a war that never should have been, he’d handed the reins over and locked himself inside the underground sleeping chamber, content to rest. And he hoped, for his soul to mend from all the loss.
It would probably take him a fucking millennia. He would have been content to stay lost in the darkness if not for the haunting eyes of the woman just out of his reach. Even as he walked the halls in his final days, he caught her watching him out of the corner of his eye.
At first he thought she was a ghost, or even worse, the witch who had enraptured his wife with whispers of obscene power. But no. He got no inkling of harm from her. She was nothing like his bride.
Bitter fire burned through him as the memories of his wife’s treachery flitted through his brain. Daughter of the previous Regent, she bowed before no man and by the Gods, he’d foolishly thought she might have grown to love him, instead of the arranged political match their union had started out to be.
Her father, Cornell, would have been ashamed had he been awake to see what she had done to their people. But he slept the sleep of the dead below and he would not disturb him, even for her. Stone by stone, he and Cornell had built this place and by all the gods he’d struggled to make a home away from the ancestral coven back in Europe. And her actions threatened to ruin it all.
Their fates tied in with a lineage of witches that helped Blackthorn Coven rise to the top of vampire society, it would also be the cause of his greatest heartbreak. Finding her in the arms of a witch who delved into blood magic and dealings with demons had forced his hand. So had the bodies of all of their victims, stacked like firewood in a secluded part of the forest. Wolves had been blamed. But he had known the truth.
One frail human girl lay bleeding out on the floor of Melia’s chamber as she fucked the witch, their bodies entwined, green fire swirling around them.
It was obscene, what they had done. So many had died. But no more.
His bride would kill them all to satisfy her lust for power so she and her lover could sit on the throne. Not on his fucking life.
The witch Abel, his second had taken care of, leaving her shackled in the conservatory bound in nullifying chains. But Melia? She was his.
Rand had cornered her in the Great Hall, his court looking on. Abel, his Captain of the Guard stood by, battle worn and bloody, his face a mask of icy rage. “You did this. You brokered a deal with death. And for what?”
Melia raised her chin in defiance, her glossy hair drawn up in an elaborate updo. She swept past the gathering crowd of onlookers, her long black skirts whispering on the stones as turned to face him. “If you see no value to what I have done, then you are a fool.” Her blood red lips curved up in a smile that did not meet her eyes.
The callous disregard for life rankled and his fangs descended in his fury. “You have learned nothing. When you lead, it is you who serves most of all.”
She was a born aristocrat and he frowned, knowing with certainty that she would never and could never see that what she had done was wrong. Legions of his people had been slain by the ensorcelled wolves. It had taken him months to trace back the source and more than a few innocent wolves had died by his hand.
He had risen up as a mercenary, blood and death gaining him rank where others, like his bride, had accepted their royal status as their due. Rand should give the right of her death to Rowark, the wolves Alpha. But he was too busy picking up the pieces of what was left of his pack. They had fought each other, near to the death until a glimpse of his ghostly witch settled his thoughts long enough to stop the madness.
Then he’d seen the truth. She had never fought for anything, but taken to dark magic to suit her purposes and that he could not abide.
Melia shrugged. “We are meant to rule. They were born to serve.”
“Rule what? A sea of bones? You’ve destroyed everything this Coven held dear. The humans in its care. Our brothers the wolves. And for what?”
“Power,” she hissed, her eyes bright with the cursed green light he’d come to know too well. “It is our birthright.”
“Not yours. Not anymore.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He seized her unceremoniously around the wrist and dragged her, protesting to the solarium. Dawn approached, and God willing, the end to his Coven’s torment. One demon had been cast down this night but the other…she stood in front of him, daring him to act.
Melia took in the body of her lover and gave a mournful cry, fighting him as he pushed her forward. His stomach twisted as he stalked past the charred body of the witch. The stench almost unbearable, he turned to his bride and reached for the shackles.
“What have you done? Have you lost what wits you have left?” She cried out, fighting him.
“I’ll do it.” Abel stepped forward, blade in hand.
Rand shook his head. “No. This duty is mine and mine alone.” He jerked Melia forward, bile rising in the back of his throat at the thought of what he was about to do. He thrust her toward the holding chains embedded in the earth and closed the first iron band around her delicate wrist.
She would have them all destroyed to suit her vanity. And there was only one remedy for that.
“You’ll pay for this, Rand. Do you hear me?” Melia squirmed in his grasp as he fastened the last shackle closed. She fell to her knees in a puddle of black silk, cursing at him and jerking at the chains.
Dawn threatened, the bonds of the night urging him back into the shadows. The others had fled the solarium, no doubt to spread their vitriol through the court. Only Abel remained, his expression determined.
“My lord. You must retire.”
“I am aware.” His gaze traveled once more over Melia.
“I’ll leave you, then.” Abel spun on his heel and vanished into the gloom of the hallway, his movements tight with anger.
Rand nodded and turned his attention back to the situation at hand. Would that his heart felt more than pity. He wanted to love her but time after time, she turned him away, choosing instead her quest for power.
“May your next life bring you peace.”
“I hate you,” she spat in his direction, the glow of her eyes matching the luminous green hue of the stone glittering from the amulet at her breast. How much of the witch fire had she taken in? Or that of the demon?
It didn’t matter. In a short while it would be over, her body a pile of ash.
Striding forward, he tore a piece of fabric from her gown, the sound of ripping fabric harsh in the silence.
“What are you doing?”
“Ending this.” Rand yanked the amulet from her neck, burying it in the scrap of fabric. As soon as his hand wrapped around the necklace, his stomach gave a violent lurch and the urge to thrust the unnatural piece from him was almost too powerful to ignore.
Gods.
The blade at his side grew warm in reaction to the dark magic.
What would it have been like to wear that loathsome thing next to his flesh, he wondered and then put it out of his mind. The image of a being swathed in a darkness more terrible than the deepest bowels of the pit flashed behind his mind’s eye and for a moment he knew fear.
Melia struggled, her chains clinking against the stone. Her wrists bloody, she reached for him, a snarl on her lips. “This isn’t over. He’ll come for you and take his rightful place.”
A bitter laugh burst from his lips. “Who will, Melia? Who besides you would dare?”
The first rays of dawn crept across the stone floors and Rand stiffened, not caring what her answer was.
“You’ll find out one day. And by then it will be too late.” Her laughter followed Rand as he stalked into the shadows of the hall. He pulled the door shut behind him, the higher windows of the solarium now just beginning to capture the sun’s poisonous rays, pushing the light closer to where he stood.
Melia’s dying shrieks followed him into the cool darkness. Still they haunted him, twisting with dreams to make them just as real now as they had been in the past.
Visions of unrest drifted through his subconscious and he shifted within the confines of his bed chamber, the stirrings of hunger tearing at him. He forced them back, irritation at his body’s needs making him cross. There was no part of the world he wanted anything to do with.
Naught but one.
It started a week ago. He’d begun to dream of a woman. At first, he hadn’t understood the connection, but as he followed her in his mind’s eye, his gaze located the cause. His dagger.
The first time she touched it at the strange fair and the magic flowing through her veins, dark and decadent but still strangely pure. He wanted her, his cock hardening at the thought of her pliant lips pressed against his. As the connection between them grew, he showed her visions of his past.
At first, he thought it a trick set upon him by Melia’s demon but as he watched her from his dreams, he saw her for her true nature. She’d been holding his blade the first time she’d stumbled into his reality and the link to the knife at his side made the spelled jewel dance in its setting.
In his slumber, he thought of her, reaching now for the blade that had been with him for centuries. Somehow, it had been displaced. Anger that someone would dare to disturb his resting chamber to take what few personal articles he’d taken with him into his rest sparked a rage that awakened his blood lust, leading him in and out of sleep, restless dreams making him edgy.
But first he needed to find the woman.
Vulnerable. Giving. And, it seemed, a witch.
About the author:
Erzabet Bishop is a USA Today bestselling author who writes paranormal and erotic romance. She lives in Texas with her husband, furry children and can often be found lurking in local bookstores. She loves to bake, make naughty crochet projects and watch monster movies.
Follow her on Twitter @erzabetbishop.
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