Tempted by Midnight 12.5 Page 14
Today, Publishers Weekly, Indiebound,
Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, etc.
Lara Adrian's debut title, Kiss of
Midnight, was named Borders Books
bestselling debut romance of 2007. Later
that year, her third title, Midnight
Awakening,
was
named
one
of
Amazon.com's Top Ten Romances of the
Year. Reviewers have called Lara's
books “addictively readable” (Chicago
Tribune),
“extraordinary”
(Fresh
Fiction), and “one of the best vampire
series on the market” (Romantic Times).
With an ancestry stretching back to
the Mayflower and the court of King
Henry VIII, Lara Adrian lives with her
husband in New England, surrounded by
centuries-old graveyards, hip urban
comforts, and the endless inspiration of
the broody Atlantic Ocean.
Connect with Lara online:
Website
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Pinterest
Was this your first taste of Lara
Adrian’s Midnight Breed series?
Start at the beginning with the prequel
novella, available now in ebook and
trade paperback
Here’s a preview!
A TOUCH OF MIDNIGHT
By Lara Adrian
Chapter 1
Boston University
October, 1974
Savannah Dupree turned the silver
urn in her gloved hands, studying its
intricate engravings through the bruise-
colored tarnish that dulled the 200-year-
old work of art. The floral motif tooled
into the polished silver was indicative
of the Rococo style of the early and mid-
1700s, yet the design was conservative,
much less ornate than most of the
examples shown in the reference
materials lying open on the study lab
table in front of her.
Removing one of the soft white
cotton curator’s gloves meant to protect
the urn from skin oils during handling,
Savannah reached for one of the books.
She flipped through several pages of
photographed art objects, drinking
vessels, serving dishes and snuff boxes
from
Italy,
England
and
France,
comparing their more elaborate styles to
that of the urn she was trying to
catalogue. She and the three other
freshman Art History students seated in
the university’s archive room with her
had been hand-picked by Professor
Keaton to earn extra credit in his class
by helping to log and analyze a recent
estate donation of Colonial furnishings
and artifacts.
She wasn’t blind to the fact that the
single professor had selected only
female students for his after-hours extra
credit project. Savannah’s roommate,
Rachel, had been ecstatic to have been
chosen. Then again, the girl had been
campaigning for Keaton’s attention since
the first week of class. And she’d
definitely gotten noticed. Savannah
glanced toward the professor’s office
next door, where the dark-haired man
now stood at the window, talking on the
phone, yet staring with blatant interest at
pretty, red-haired Rachel in her tight,
low-cut sweater and micro-miniskirt.
“Isn’t he a fox?” she whispered to
Savannah, a row of thin metal bangle
bracelets clinking musically as Rachel
reached up to hook her loose hair behind
her ear. “He could be Burt Reynolds’
brother, don’t you think?”
Savannah frowned, skeptical. She
glanced over at the lean man with the
shoulder-length hair and overgrown
moustache, and the mushroom-brown
corduroy suit and open-necked satin
shirt. A zodiac sign pendant glinted from
within a thick nest of exposed chest hair.
Fashionable or not, the look didn’t do a
thing for Savannah. “Sorry, Rach. I’m
not seeing it. Unless Burt Reynolds has a
brother in the porno business. Plus, he’s
too old for you. He must be close to
forty, for crying out loud.”
“Shut up! I think he’s cute.” Rachel
giggled, crossing her arms under her
breasts and tossing her head in a move
that had Professor Keaton leaning closer
to the glass, practically on the verge of
drooling. “I’m gonna go see if he wants
to check my work. Maybe he’ll ask me
to stay after school and clean his erasers
or something.”
“Mm-hmm.
Or
something,”
Savannah drawled through her smile,
shaking her head as Rachel waggled her
brows then sauntered toward the
professor’s office. Having come to
Boston University on a full academic
scholarship and the highest SAT scores
across twenty-two parishes in south
central Louisiana, Savannah didn’t
really need help bolstering her grades.
She’d
accepted
the
extra
credit
assignment only out of her insatiable
love for history and learning.
She looked at the urn again, then
retrieved another catalogue of London
silver from the Colonial period and
compared the piece to the ones
documented on the pages. Doubting her
initial analysis now, she picked up her
pencil and erased what she’d first
written in her notebook. The urn wasn’t
English
in
origin. American, she
corrected. Likely crafted in New York
or Philadelphia, if she were forced to
guess. Or did the simplicity of the
Rococo design lean more toward the
work of a Boston artisan?
Savannah huffed out a sigh,
frustrated by how tedious and inexact the
work was proving to be. There was a
better way, after all.
She knew of a far more efficient,
accurate way to resolve the origins--all
the
hidden
secrets--of
these
old
treasures. But she couldn’t very well
start fondling everything with her bare
hands. Not with Professor Keaton in his
office a few feet away. Not with her
other two classmates gathered at the
table with her, working on their own
items from the collection. She wouldn’t
dare use the peculiar skill she’d been
born with.
No, she left that part of her back
home in Acadiana. She wasn’t about to
let anyone up here in Boston think of her
as some voodoo freak show. She was
different
enough
among
the
predominantly white
student body. She
didn’t want anyone knowing how truly
strange she was. Aside from her only
living kin--her older sister, Amelie--no
one knew about Savannah’s extrasensory
gift, and that’s how she intended to keep
it.
Much as she loved Amelie,
Savannah had been happy to leave the
bayou behind and try to make her own
path in life. A normal life. One that
wasn’t rooted in the swamps with a
Cajun mother who’d been more than a
shade eccentric, for all Savannah could
recall of her, and a father who’d been a
drifter, absent for all of his daughter’s
life, little better than a rumor, according
to Amelie.
If not for Amelie, who’d practically
raised her, Savannah would have
belonged to no one. She still felt
somehow out of place in the world, lost
and searching, apart from everyone else
around her. For as long as she could
remember, she’d felt... different.
Which was probably why she was
striving so hard to make her life normal.
She’d hoped moving away to attend
college right out of high school would
give her some sense of purpose. A
feeling of belonging and direction. She’d
taken the maximum load of classes and
filled her evenings and weekends with a
part-time job at the Boston Public
Library.
Oh, shit.
A job she was going to be late for,
she realized, glancing up at the clock on
the wall. She was due for her 4PM shift
at the library in twenty minutes--barely
enough time to wrap up now and hurry
her butt across town.
Savannah closed her notebook and
hastily straightened up her work area at
the table. Picking up the urn in her
gloved hands, she carried the piece back
into the archive storage room where the
rest
of
the
donated
collection’s
catalogued furniture and art objects had
been placed.
As she set the silver vessel on the
shelf and put away her gloves, something
caught her eye in a dim corner of the
room. A long, slender case of some sort
stood propped against the wall, partially
concealed behind a rolled-up antique
rug.
Had she and the other students
missed an item?
She strode over to get a better look.
Behind the bound rug was an old
wooden case. About five feet in length,
the container was unremarkable except
for the fact that it seemed deliberately
separated--hidden--from the rest of the
things in the room.
What was it?
Savannah moved aside the heavy,
rolled rug, struggling with its unwieldy
bulk. As she leaned the rug against the
perpendicular wall, she bumped the
wooden
case.
It
tipped
forward
suddenly, about to crash to the floor.
Panicked,
Savannah
lunged,
shooting her arms out and using her
entire body to break the case’s fall. As
she caught it, taking the piece down with
her onto her knees, the old leather hinges
holding it together snapped apart with a
soft pop-pop-pop.
A length of cold, smooth steel
tumbled out of the case and into
Savannah’s open hands.
Her bare hands.
The metal was a jolting chill
against her palms. Heavy. Sharp-edged.
Lethal.
Startled, Savannah sucked in a
breath, but couldn’t move fast enough to
avoid the prolonged contact or the
power of her gift, which stirred to life
inside her.
The sword’s history opened up to
her, like a window into the past. A
random moment, fused forever into the
metal and now exploding in vivid, if
scattered, detail in Savannah’s mind.
She saw a man holding the weapon
before him as in combat.
Tall and menacing, a mane of thick
blond waves danced wildly around his
head as he stared down an unseen
opponent under a black-velvet, moonlit
sky. His stance was unforgiving, the air
about him as grim as death itself.
Piercing blue eyes cut through the
tendrils of sweat-dampened hair that
drooped into the ruthless angles of his
face and square-cut jaw.
The man was immense, thick roped
muscles bulging from broad shoulders
and biceps beneath the loose drape of
his ecru linen shirt. Smooth, fawn-
colored trousers clung to his powerful
thighs as he advanced on his quarry,
blade poised to kill. Whoever the man
was who’d once wielded this deadly
weapon, he was not some post-
Elizabethan dandy, but a warrior.
Bold.
Arrogant.
Magnetic. Dangerously so.
The swordsman closed in on his
target, no mercy whatsoever in the hard
line of his mouth, nor in the blazing blue
eyes that narrowed with unswerving
intent, seeming almost to glow with
some inner fury that Savannah couldn’t
comprehend. A dark curiosity prickled
inside her, against her better instincts.
Who was this man?
Where was he from? How had he
lived?
How many centuries ago must he
have died?
Through the lens of her mind’s eye,
Savannah watched the warrior come to a
halt. He stared down at the one he now
met in mortal combat. His broad mouth
was flat, merciless. He raised his sword
arm, prepared to strike.
And then he did, driving home the
blade in a swift, certain death blow.
Savannah’s heart raced, pounding
frantically in her breast. She could
hardly breathe for the combination of
fear and fascination swirling inside her.
She tried to see the swordsman’s
face in better detail, but his wild tangle
of golden hair and the shadows of the
night that surrounded him hid all but the
most basic hints of his features.
And now, as so often happened
with her gift, the vision was beginning to
fracture apart. The image started to
splinter, breaking into scattered shards.
She’d never been able to control
her ability, not even when she tried. It
was a powerful gift, but an elusive one
too. Now was no different. Savannah
struggled to hold on, but the glimpse the
sword
gave
her
was
slipping...fading...drifting out of reach.
As Savannah’s mind cleared, she
uncurled her fingers from their grip on
; the blade. She stared down at the length
of polished steel resting across her open
palms.
She closed her eyes and tried to
conjure the face of the swordsman from
memory, but only the faintest impression
of him remained within her grasp. Soon,
even that was slipping away. Then it
was gone.
He was gone.
Banished back to the past, where he
belonged.
And yet, a single, nagging question
pulsed through her mind, through her
veins. It demanded an answer, one she
had little hope of resolving.
Who was he?
Also from Lara Adrian
Click to purchase
Midnight Breed Series
A Touch of Midnight (prequel novella)
Kiss of Midnight
Kiss of Crimson
Midnight Awakening
Midnight Rising
Veil of Midnight
Ashes of Midnight
Shades of Midnight
Taken by Midnight
Deeper Than Midnight
A Taste of Midnight (ebook novella)
Darker After Midnight
The Midnight Breed Series Companion
Edge of Dawn
Marked by Midnight (novella)
Crave the Night
Tempted by Midnight (novella) Bound to Darkness (Summer 2015)
…and more to come!
Masters of Seduction Series
Merciless (novella in Volume 1)
TBA (novella in Volume 2, April 2015) Phoenix Code Series
Cut and Run (Nov 2014)
Hide and Seek (Spring 2015)
LARA ADRIAN writing as TINA ST.
JOHN
Dragon Chalice Series
Warrior Trilogy
Lord of Vengeance
On behalf of 1001 Dark
Nights,
Liz Berry and M.J. Rose would like to
thank ~
Doug Scofield
Steve Berry
Richard Blake
Dan Slater
Asha Hossain
Chris Graham
Kim Guidroz
BookTrib After Dark
Jillian Stein
and Simon Lipskar
Table of Contents
Book Description
Table of Contents
One Thousand and One Dark Nights
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
1001 Dark Nights
Acknowledgments from the Author
About Lara Adrian
Also from Lara Adrian
On behalf of 1001 Dark