kiss of a demon king immortals after dark book 6

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Zauber Der Leidenschaft

Author : Kresley Cole
ISBN : 9783802586453
Genre : Fiction
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Der Dämonenkönig Rydstrom wird von seiner Erzfeindin, der mächtigen Zauberin Sabine, entführt. Sabine will den Dämon dazu zwingen, einen Erben mit ihr zu zeugen. Doch noch während Rydstrom seine Flucht plant, muss er feststellen, dass er unerwartet tiefe Gefühle für Sabine entwickelt. Schon bald finden sich die Zauberin und der Dämon in einem Sturm der Leidenschaft wieder, der sie ihre alte Feindschaft beinahe vergessen lässt ...

Sehnsucht Der Dunkelheit

Author : Kresley Cole
ISBN : 9783802590153
Genre : Fiction
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Malkom Slaine trägt die Eigenschaften eines Dämons und eines Vampirs in sich. Im Laufe seines langen Lebens ist er schon oft hintergangen worden. Es fällt ihm deshalb schwer, Vertrauen zu fassen. Als er jedoch der schönen Carrow Graie begegnet, schlägt er alle Vorsicht in den Wind. Sie weckt eine beinahe unstillbare Sehnsucht in ihm. Um so schwerer trifft es ihn, als auch Carrow ihn verrät ...

Flammen Der Begierde

Author : Kresley Cole
ISBN : 9783802589218
Genre : Fiction
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Garreth MacRieve ist ein Prinz der Lykae, ein kampferprobter Krieger aus den schottischen Highlands. Er ist in tiefer Leidenschaft zu der Walküre Lucia entflammt und hat geschworen, sie mit seinem Leben zu beschützen. Doch die schöne Jägerin wird von ihrer Vergangenheit verfolgt und glaubt, Garreths Gefühle nicht erwidern zu können. Sie hegt ein dunkles Geheimnis, das nicht nur sie selbst in große Gefahr bringen könnte, sondern auch den Mann, den sie liebt.

Dunkles Schicksal

Author : Kresley Cole
ISBN : 9783802596612
Genre : Fiction
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Als Kinder haben sich Thronos, Lord von Skye Hall, und Lanthe, ein keckes Sorceri-Mädchen, ewige Liebe geschworen. Für Lanthe war Thronos bereit, seinen Vrekener-Clan anzuzweifeln. Doch dann gerieten die beiden in den Mittelpunkt einer tödlichen Familienfehde - und seitdem sind sie erbitterte Feinde. Aber selbst jetzt, nachdem Jahrhunderte vergangen sind, kann nichts das Verlangen nach der anmutigen Zauberin stillen, das noch immer in Thronos brodelt ...

Tanz Des Verlangens

Author : Kresley Cole
ISBN : 9783802585401
Genre : Fiction
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Néomi Laress war in den zwanziger Jahren eine berühmte Balletttänzerin in New Orleans. Doch als sie von ihrem Verlobten getötet wird, verwandelt sie sich in einen Geist und versucht seither vergeblich, Kontakt zu den Lebenden aufzunehmen. Da begegnet ihr der Vampirkrieger Conrad, der sie als Einziger sehen kann. Néomis Erscheinung treibt Conrad an den Rand des Wahnsinns, und er entbrennt in wilder Leidenschaft zu der schönen Tänzerin. Doch Néomi wird von dunklen Mächten bedroht, und Conrad muss alles aufs Spiel setzen, um sie zu retten...

Verf Hrung Der Schatten

Author : Kresley Cole
ISBN : 9783802584435
Genre : Fiction
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Der Dämon Cadeon Woede wird von seiner Vergangenheit verfolgt. Vor 900 Jahren wurde sein Bruder Rydstrom vom Thron gestürzt, und Cade glaubt, daran schuld zu sein. Er hat deshalb geschworen, seinen Fehler zu beheben und Rydstrom erneut zum König zu machen. Dafür braucht er die Hilfe der hübschen Halbwalküre Holly, die eine tiefe Leidenschaft in ihm weckt. Einer Prophezeiung zufolge wird Holly ein Kind gebären, welches das Gleichgewicht der Kräfte von Gut und Böse ins Wanken bringen soll. Kann Cade Holly aufgeben, um seinem Bruder Genugtuung zu verschaffen?

Abgrund Der Sehnsucht

Author : Kresley Cole
ISBN : 9783736304833
Genre : Fiction
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Nach einem gescheiterten Putsch ist die Feyde Calliope Barbot dazu verdammt, in der Welt der Sterblichen zu leben. Ihre einzige Chance, in das Feenreich zurückzukehren, besteht darin, den König der Hölle zu verführen und auszuspionieren. Vor Lila liegt eine schier unlösbare Aufgabe. Denn Abyssian Infernas ist ein furchteinflößender Dämon voll finsterem Begehr. Aber Lila wäre nicht sie selbst, fände sie nicht für alles eine Lösung. Dass sie dabei ihr Herz an den knurrigen Dämon verliert, war allerdings nicht geplant ... "Kresley Coles Geschichten sind der Hammer - die polieren auch den langweiligsten Nachmittag auf!" Romantic Times

Poison Princess

Author : Kresley Cole
ISBN : 9783641101510
Genre : Young Adult Fiction
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Die rote Hexe, der Tod, ein Heer aus Blüten und Dornen ... düstere Bilder und Stimmen suchen Evie vor ihrem sechzehnten Geburtstag heim – und nach einer Katastrophe werden diese Visionen wahr. Als eine der wenigen Überlebenden bleibt sie zurück in einer öden Welt aus Asche und Verderben, an ihrer Seite der undurchsichtige Bad Boy Jack. Als klar wird, dass in Evie der Schlüssel zu neuem Leben verborgen liegt, müssen sie fliehen. Doch Evie ahnt, es ist nicht nur ihre Bestimmung, Leben zu geben, sondern auch den Tod zu säen. Nie darf Jack davon erfahren, denn längst hat sich Evie unsterblich in ihn verliebt ...

Geliebter Des Windes

Author : Sydney Croft
ISBN : 9783641053918
Genre : Fiction
File Size : 27. 31 MB
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Magische Erotik Sie ist jung, schön und voller Leidenschaft. Einmal im Jahr, wenn der große Sturm heraufzieht, verliert Kira Donovan die Kontrolle über ihre außergewöhnliche magische Gabe – dann kann sie die Elemente beherrschen. Gerade als sich die Zeichen des nahenden Unwetters verstärken und Kira ihre Unruhe kaum mehr zähmen kann, taucht ein Fremder auf ihrer einsamen Farm in Idaho auf. Augenblicklich sprühen die Funken zwischen den beiden. Doch dann findet Kira heraus, dass ihr Besucher Agent einer mysteriösen Organisation ist – und sein Auftrag lautet, sie zu entführen.

Kiss Of A Demon King

Author : Kresley Cole
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From New York Times bestselling author Kresley Cole comes this spellbinding story of a demon king trapped by an enchantress for her wanton purposes -- and the scorching aftermath that follows when he turns the tables and claims her as his captive. HIS OBSESSION... Sabine, Sorceress of Illusions: the evil beauty who surrenders her body, but not her heart. HER DOWNFALL... Rydstrom Woede: the ruthless warrior who vows to keep her at all costs. THEY WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO WANT EACH OTHER THIS MUCH... With each smoldering encounter, their shared hunger only increases. If they can defeat the sinister enemy that stands between them, will Sabine make the ultimate sacrifice for her demon? Or will the proud king lay down his crown and arms to save his sorceress? About the Author Kresley Cole is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Immortals After Dark paranormal series and the young adult Arcana Chronicles. Her books have been translated into many foreign languages, garnered two RITA awards, and consistently appear on the bestseller lists in the US and abroad. Visit her at KresleyCole.com. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. 1 Present day The Tongue and Groove Strip Club, Southern Louisiana A lap dance for the sexy demon?" With a firm shake of his head, Rydstrom Woede turned down the half-clad female. "With a lap like yours, I'll make myself at home," another told him. "For free." She cupped one of her breasts upward and dipped her tongue to her nipple. That got him to raise an eyebrow, but still he said, "Not interested." This was one of the low points of his life, surrounded by strippers in a neon-lit Lore club. He was on edge in this ridiculous place, feeling like the worst hypocrite. If his ne'er-do-well brother found out where he'd been, he would never hear the end of it. But Rydstrom's contact had insisted on meeting here. When a pretty nymph sidled up behind him to massage his shoulders, he picked up her hands and faced her. "I said no." The females here left him cold, which confounded him -- since he needed a woman beneath him so badly. His eyes must have darkened, because the nymph quickly backed away. About to lose my temper with a nymph? Getting angered at one of her kind for touching him was like scolding a dog for tail wagging at the sight of a bone. Lately, Rydstrom had been a constant hair trigger's turn from succumbing to rage. The fallen king known for his coolheaded reason, for his patience with others, felt like a bomb about to explode. He'd been experiencing an inexplicable anticipation -- a sense of building, a sense that something big was going to happen soon. But because this urgency had no discernible source or alleviation, frustration welled in him. He didn't eat, couldn't sleep a night through. For the last couple of weeks, he'd awakened to find himself thrusting against the pillow or the mattress or even into his own fist, desperate for a soft female below him to ease the strangling frustration he felt. Gods, I need a woman. Yet he had no time to woo a decent one. Just another conflict battling within him. The kingdom's needs always come before the king's. So much was at stake in the fight to reclaim his crown -- from Omort the Deathless, a foe who could never be killed. Rydstrom had once faced him and knew from bitter experience that the sorcerer was undestroyable. Though he'd beheaded Omort, it was Rydstrom who'd barely escaped their confrontation nine hundred years before. Now Rydstrom searched for a way to truly kill Omort forever. Backed by his brother Cadeon and Cadeon's gang of mercenaries, Rydstrom doggedly tracked down one lead after another. The emissary he was to meet tonight -- a seven-foot-tall pus demon named Pogerth -- would be able to help them. He'd been sent by a sorcerer named Groot the Metallurgist, Omort's half brother, a man who wanted Omort dead almost as much as Rydstrom did. Groot was little better than Omort, but an enemy of my enemy... Just then, a demoness dressed in black leather with cheap makeup on her horns gave Rydstrom a measuring look as she passed, but he turned away. He was... curious about wicked females, always had been, but they weren't his type -- no matter what Cadeon occasionally threw in his face when they fought. No, Rydstrom wanted his queen, his own fated female, a virtuous demoness to stand by his side and grace his bed. For a demon, sex with one's female was supposed to be mind-blowing compared to the random tup. After fifteen centuries, he'd waited bloody long enough to experience the difference. He exhaled. But now was not the time for her. So much at stake. He knew that if he didn't defeat his enemy this time, his kingdom and his castle would be forever lost. My home lost. His hands clenched, his short black claws digging into his palms. Omort and his followers had desecrated Castle Tornin. The sorcerer had set himself up as king and welcomed Rydstrom's enemies, granting them asylum. His guards were revenants, walking corpses, the dead raised to life, who could only be destroyed once their master died. Tales of orgies, sacrifices, and incest in Tornin's once-hallowed halls were legion. Rydstrom would die before he lost his ancestral castle to beings so depraved, so warped he considered them the most revolting beings ever to walk the earth. Gods help anyone who crosses me this eve. A ticking bomb -- At last, Pogerth arrived, teleporting inside the bar. The pus demon's skin looked like melted wax and smelled of decay. The gauze he wore under his clothes peeked out at the collar and cuffs of his shirt. He wore rubber boots that he would empty outside in regular intervals, as was polite. When he sat at Rydstrom's table, it was to a squishing sound. "My lord and master seeks a prize so rare it's almost fabled," he began without preamble. "In return for it, he'll deliver something just as fantastical." Switching to the demon tongue, he asked, "What would you be willing to do for a weapon guaranteed to kill the Deathless One?" Castle Tornin The Kingdom of Rothkalina When a severed head bounced wetly down the steps from Omort's throne dais onto the black runner, Sabine casually sidestepped, continuing past it. The head belonged to Oracle Three Fifty-Six -- as in the number of soothsayers that had been in office since Sabine had come to Tornin. The scent of blood cloyed as revenants mindlessly cleaned up the matching body. And Omort, her half brother and king of the plane of Rothkalina, was wiping off his bloody hands -- which meant he'd torn the oracle's head from her neck in a fit of rage, piqued no doubt by whatever she'd foretold. Standing tall and proud in front of his ornate gold throne, he wore a raised armor guard over his left shoulder and a dashing cape on the right. A sword scabbard flanked his hip. Atop his pale hair sat the intricate headwear that served as both a crown and an armor helmet. He looked suave and sophisticated, and utterly incapable of yanking a woman's head off her body. Omort had stolen so many powers -- pyrokinesis, levitation, teleporting -- all seized from his other half siblings before he killed them. Yet he couldn't see the future. The lack often enraged him. "Something to comment about this, Sabine? Growing soft?" She was the only one who dared defy him in any way, and the creatures at court quieted. Lining the halls were members of many of the factions who allied with the Pravus, Omort's new army. Among them were the centaurs, the Invidia -- female embodiments of discord -- ogres, rogue phantoms, fallen vampires, fire demons with their palms aglow... more beings than could be named. Almost all of them would love to see her dead. "So hard to find good help these days," she sighed. Sabine could scarcely be expected to feel sympathy for another. For far too many times she'd dragged herself up from a pool of her own blood. "Which is a shame, brother, because without her we are as good as blind." "Worry not, I will find another seer directly." "I wish you all the best with that." Soothsayers didn't grow on trees, and already they were wading deep into the recruiting pool. "Is this beheading why you summoned me?" Sabine's tone was bored as she gazed around her. She studiously avoided the mysterious Well of Souls in the center of the court, taking in other details of the opulent throne room. Her brother had drastically changed it since the rule of the mighty Rydstrom. He'd replaced the demon's austere throne with one made of blazingly bright gold. Tonight, blood lay splattered over the gleaming metal -- from the oracle's squirting jugular. Been there.... On the walls, Omort had hung his colors and his banners emblazoned with his talisman animal: an ouroboros, a snake swallowing its own tail, to represent his deathlessness. Anything simple, he'd made lavish. And yet, this place still didn't suit the outwardly sophisticated Omort. According to legend, the premedieval Castle Tornin had been created by a divine hand to protect the well, with six bold towers encircling it, and the central court. Though the stones that made up the fortress were rugged, they'd been placed flawlessly. Tornin was perfectly imperfect. As rough-hewn as its former king was reputed to be. Omort drew back his cape before sitting. "I summoned you half an hour ago." "Ah, just so. I recall that now." She and Lanthe had been watching DVDs in Lanthe's solar-powered room. The sisters probably logged seven hours a day watching movies. Alas, cable wasn't forthcoming. As she passed the Viceroy centaur, Sabine peeked down and asked him, "How's it hanging? Low and to the left, I see. Your left, my right." Though his fury was undisguised, he would never challenge her. She had far too much power here. She gave him a wink to remind him of just that, then continued to Omort, "I was going to be here on time. But I had something very urgent to take care of." "Did you really?" "No." And that was all she'd say on the matter. Omort stared at her in fascination, his yellow irises glowing. But when she removed her own cape, he seemed to shake himself, casting a disapproving look at her garments -- a scanty bandeau top of gold weave, a leather micro-skirt, claw-tipped gauntlets on her hands, and thigh-high boots. After raking his gaze over her body, Omort settled on her face. She'd drawn her bold scarlet eye paint in the shape of wings that spread out from her lashes up over her brows all the way to her hairline. In ages past, Omort had wanted to make it law that females of value were to obscure their faces with a traditional silk Sorceri mask instead of mere paint mimicking one, and to cover their bodies entirely. He'd swiftly learned how Sabine felt about that idea. "Actually, Omort, I just came to drink my medicine." "You'll get your dose later," Omort replied, waving a ...

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