I am so excited about the release of City of the Fallen. I love the idea of an apocalyptic after-the-rise take on vampire's coming out of the coffin, with them being the enslavers instead of just seamlessly integrating into society.
I do, however, believe that the King of Vampires has to be one sexy and alluring man, and even with all of his evil I'm-going-kill-all-of-your-species plans, I can understand why Isabelle may have a difficult time keeping her mind on the mission. Although I have no idea how this King is portrayed, since the book is only being released today, I still like to picture him as an intense Ian Somerhalder:
I mean, let's be real...this face is one that may turn make me turn over the vampires-can't-be-so-bad leaf.
Anywho, here is an exclusive excerpt for the tour to get you reeling to purchase today. Check it out!
His eyes were locked on hers. “Are you afraid of me?”
There it was, the real answer. She had been asking herself that exact question since the moment she saw him. Was she afraid of him? Would she be once he got close, once she knew there was nowhere to run? And the truth was that she wasn’t. The king inspired a very different, more powerful emotion in her. Something that completely erased any hint of fear that could have been lurking around. Something that made her forget who he was and who she was and why every hint of desire clutching at her should have felt so wrong.
Even though it felt deliciously right.
The silver in his eyes seemed to spark brighter as one of his hands extended towards her, slightly brushing her cheek before settling on the back of her neck.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she repeated, more to savor the revelation than to reassure him.
And then his mouth reached for hers and her mind went blank.
A soft moan escaped her throat as soon as his lips touched hers. It was a sound of wanting but also of surrender. She wanted this. Her body craved it, but so did something deeper inside of her, something that was waking up with every passing second.
She was expecting a hard invasion, but he didn’t push. Instead, his lips were soft, testing and tasting. The silky caress was so erotic, her whole body turned to liquid, melting into his. More, she needed more. She moaned against his mouth and her lips opened.
And then all of a sudden the gentleness was gone. His tongue darted into her mouth, twining with hers, demanding a response, while his hands ran down her ribs and towards her lower back.
One of his hands reached for her waist, sliding her under him. As he leaned over her, every inch of skin he touched went up in flames, warmth extending inwards and spreading like wildfire. Part of her mind was desperately trying to hold on to reason, reminding her over and over that he wasn’t human.
Except the things he was making her body feel were all very human.
His hand moved under her shirt and her whole body trembled as if hit by an electrical current. His touch was hypnotic. So wrong and yet so right. She arched against him, begging for more.
He growled in response and moved his hand higher, reaching for her breast.
Before his fingers touched her nipple, it had already hardened. When he finally touched her, he let a groan out and pushed harder into her mouth. He sucked on her tongue and she found herself falling deeper into the darkness, into him. Nothing mattered at the moment. Not her mission, not her hate for the monsters. All that mattered was his hands and his tongue dancing with hers. Because nothing she had ever felt, nobody she had ever touched, had felt like this.
Then all of a sudden, he broke the kiss. A moan of complaint left her throat and she reached for his mouth, but he pulled back. She opened her eyes, searching for an explanation—and found his eyes locked on hers, bright silver and deep.
“Marcus,” he groaned, his chest rising up and down rapidly.
She tried to make sense through the fog of desire clogging up her mind. Her head was spinning and it was hard to concentrate on anything but his scent and his heat, dancing over her body.
“My name is Marcus. Say it.”
She pushed against him.
“Marcus,” she whispered and the hum of his name on her lips felt like honey.
He growled, the sound rolling over her like thunder. His hands felt feverish against her skin and she could see the transformation happening in him. As the touch became more urgent, he slowly let go of his hold on humanity. His eyes darkened, his fangs came out and the rhythm of his movements became more animal, more dominant. He pressed harder, moved harder, pinching and stroking and kneading until pain started to inch closer.