At Grave's End (Night Huntress, Book 3)
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Some things won't stay buried . . . at grave's end
It should be the best time of half-vampire Cat Crawfield's life. With her undead lover Bones at her side, she's successfully protected mortals from the rogue undead. But though Cat's worn disguise after disguise to keep her true identity a secret from the brazen bloodsuckers, her cover's finally been blown, placing her in terrible danger.
As if that wasn't enough, a woman from Bones's past is determined to bury him once and for all. Caught in the crosshairs of a vengeful vamp, yet determined to help Bones stop a lethal magic from being unleashed, Cat's about to learn the true meaning of bad blood. And the tricks she's learned as a special agent won't help her. She will need to fully embrace her vampire instincts in order to save herself—and Bones—from a fate worse than the grave.
skin that gooseflesh broke out on me where they landed. I didn’t say anything, sensing that whatever control Bones had used in not doing that before was at its breaking point now. “I’ve never been jealous before I met you,” Bones went on, still in that same soft, menacing tone. “It burns, luv. Like silver through my veins. Some nights, watching you with other men on your jobs, I think it will drive me mad.” His hands were still stroking my legs with a light, scary sensuality that made me want
digging my nails into his hand so hard, I’d drawn blood. “Sorry,” I whispered. “I remember thinking I was finished, and being very brassed off about it. I managed to pull the blade out, but I was in no condition to defend myself. Then I felt the strangest kind of power even as my vision blackened and I couldn’t hear. The last thing I remember, we were over a bridge, and I rolled myself off the train into the water. Then there was nothing. Until the blood.” Bones gave a soft grunt of remorse.
and he also didn’t believe it was him. Weep. The word flashed across my mind like it was spoken in my ear. Mencheres’s steel gaze didn’t waver, and I jerked back in shock even as I complied. It wasn’t hard. I still wasn’t all the way back in control of my emotions. I let some tears fall, big fat drops of duplicity that rolled down my cheeks. Playing weak. Sometimes it was the best offense. “My sire Tenoch had a similar gift,” Mencheres stated. “He could manipulate his body to appear withered
laugh when she told me she’d killed you. Then saw her face when she thanked me for it being all my fault. Aren’t I deserving of any retribution? Doesn’t my injury measure up next to Rattler’s? This might have been merciful but it was wrong, Bones. You taught me that. No matter how much you empathized with Rattler, you shouldn’t have killed him. I let you have Max. You should have given me Rattler.” And with that, I left the small room, the other vampires clearing a path to let me pass.
rub one off in all these years, has she? Wants her guards to be pure and all that rot, right? Your unspent balls have warped your brain, they have. How long has it been since you’ve even gazed on a naked woman, hmm? Before or after Constantine converted?” This verbal flaying was an unusual tactic for Bones, but he’d reasoned it was worth a shot. Ian, Rodney, and Spade had already tried other means, none of them pleasant, but Anubus had proved either unknowing or disinclined to reveal anything