Final Chance

Published by: eXtasy Books

Author : Amy O'Connor

ISBN :00026

Page :50

Word Count :12500

Publication Date :2010-08-08

Series : #

Heat Level :

Available Formats : Final Chance (pdf) , Final Chance (prc) , Final Chance (mobi)

Category : Erotic Romance

Product Code: 00026

Qty

$1.50

0 reviews
Write a review

Time was running out for Mathew. If he didn't find his mate soon he'd lose all chance of regaining his soul.

Time was running out for Mathew. If he didn't find his mate soon he'd lose all chance of regaining his soul. But not everyone wanted him to succeed – unfortunately that included his psychotic Mommy Dearest and his valet. It wasn't going to be easy but he was determined to woo Sophie properly, roses and all. Now, if only everything would go to plan…

“Roses?”

“Yes sir. On an occasion as auspicious as tonight promises to be, nothing other than roses could possibly suffice.”

Mathew stared across the room, fascinated. His valet was actually vibrating in satisfaction. He could only assume he’d meant to sound portentous. It was a shame he was only twelve inches tall, really, because it was hard to take the reedy little voice seriously.

“Red roses, I presume?” Mathew asked.

“But of course.” The valet looked up, his brow even more furrowed than normal. “Ah! Now I see, sir. You were jesting. Blood red roses are simply –” He sighed. “– Suitable.”

Mathew attempted a weak smile. The prat was driving him insane. Perhaps that had been his mother’s plan when she’d insisted he take Frederick along with him on his hunt for a bride. If he was buried under protocols, weighed down by what he could – and could not – do, then surely he’d simply give up.

Or not.

Mother had obviously underestimated just how seriously he was taking this one last chance to save his soul.

While he’d been contemplating the ceiling, Frederick was bustling around the room, smoothing non-existent wrinkles in his perfectly pressed coat, re-arranging the revolting gold-and-silver backed brushes his father had given him for his 200th birthday. Could the man – he mentally corrected himself, gnome – never stand still? There was probably a rule against it in the ‘how to be a perfect valet’ handbook.

“Blood red roses? But what sort of blood?” Mathew steepled his fingers, refusing to meet his valet’s scandalized gaze. “Arterial blood is such a lovely bright red. A cheerful color. The blood from the veins, however…”

He licked his lips, purposely baring a single fang just to see Frederick shudder in horror. Frederick. What kind of name was that for a gnome anyway?

“Sir?” Frederick’s voice wavered even more than usual.

Mathew closed his eyes. “It’s so... luscious. Totally different. Thick, flavorsome… Mmmm.”

His body tightened at the thought, every cell suddenly screaming for nourishment. He couldn’t help wondering just how decadently rich Sophie’s blood would taste as it rushed down his throat. He’d sink his fangs in her neck and his cock –

He sat up abruptly, forcing his mind away from the frantic beat of Frederick’s heart. It was too long since he’d fed, and if he wasn’t more careful he’d be having Frederick for a pre-dinner snack. And that would not be good for his already-tarnished soul.

He stood up, his eyes swiveling to follow his valet’s crab-scuttle around the edge of the room. Frederick was eying him as warily as he would a hungry tiger. He smiled, knowing the flickering candlelight would gleam on his fangs, then stalked from the room. Occasionally Frederick needed a reminder of just who was the predator – and who was the prey.