By Connie Hall
Within the final showdown among gentle and darkness who will triumph? All her lifestyles Takala was hoping to discover the mummy who'd deserted her. yet she'd by no means anticipated the lady to be a shadowy double agent within the underworld. Nor did she count on falling for the very vampire who sought after her mom destroyed. Like his identify, Striker used to be ruthless...and the sexiest factor Takala had ever visible. Her white-magic and her dedication have been defenceless opposed to him. yet Takala did not be aware of the long-dead ardour she roused in him may kill her. for hundreds of years, Striker had denied himself human blood, yet now Takala had resurrected that bloodlust...and basically hers may fulfill him...
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Additional resources for Nightwalker (Harlequin Nocturne)
His agents were near them, on their knees, execution style. Silver chains crisscrossed their vampire bodies and held them immobile. Striker knew every one of the agents by name. He had trained them himself. P. How could this happen? In the moonlit background, Striker noticed a wharf. Warehouse lights cast eerie shadows over their faded fronts. Boats rocked against the pier, and he saw the Suter’s Marina sign. He knew that place. New Orleans. A hover paused, the edge of his robe rippling as he lowered the blowtorch and fired.
They went through the line, and Culler bought Rock Star a first-class ticket to Paris. On their way to Gate 5, they stopped at a row of shops. Rock Star turned and looked nervously around. Striker was leaning on the wall near a water fountain, pretending to read the newspaper. She glanced past him as they paused at Arlene’s Tid Bits, a woman’s clothing boutique. He zoned in his sensitive hearing and listened to their conversation. “Let’s go in,” Culler said. “I need a toothbrush and makeup and clothes.
If she had been just a regular human, Raithe could easily replace her, and she would be useless to Striker. But this woman was a cut above, her blood like manna. Striker could only hope she was one of Raithe’s obsessions. An object Striker could definitely use. “I suppose so,” Culler said. “Look, I’m just gonna pop across the hall there, to the fudge shop. ” “Don’t let that cretin make you fat. ” Culler actually sounded like she cared. Striker thought she was the most talented liar he’d ever seen.