Relentless Flame

Release date: May 4, 2015
Relentless FlameImmortal. Colossal. Suave. Indebted killer Dante Blackstone has the world at his feet. Every vice, any desire, is his for the asking—until he finds the one person he cannot have: one sweet, diminutive woman who could bring about Dante’s destruction.

Despite her supernatural ability to heal others, a devastating act of evil has left Hannah Miller broken in body and spirit. As she rebuilds her life while on the lam, a not-so-chance meeting with Dante chips away at the walls surrounding her fragile heart. But before their fledgling love can take flight, Dante’s boss sends an evil minion with one mandate: Eliminate Dante’s new reason to break his eternal contract.

As they fight to survive, Hannah’s amazing gift gives Dante one chance to save them both from the vicious minion. How can any love survive eternal hell and annihilation?

The answer lies in Dante’s inferno.

BUY NOWby Jillian David

Paranormal
Sensuality Level: Sensual

Author Bio:
Jillian David writes, daydreams, and duct tapes people back together. Drive to the end of the Earth, then keep going for another hour, and you’ll arrive at her home.

Find her at www.jilliandavid.net and on Twitter @JillianDavid13.

 

An excerpt from Relentless Flame:

Dante entered his seventh bookstore to case since he’d arrived in Portland, Oregon. Smoothing his Armani slacks, he folded himself into the worn reading chair at Cover to Cover Books and fingered the worn chintz fabric. He relaxed, taking in the clusters of scarred wooden chairs around oddly paired tables, several upright upholstered chairs like the one he occupied, and three threadbare loveseats. The smell of old books and wood polish lulled him into a state of nostalgia for quaint shops from his homeland, Sweden. The images almost distracted him from the mission. Almost.

Of course, he could have telephoned each store, but a strange man asking for Jessica Miller might have driven her to ground. That might not even be her name anymore. With what little he knew about her past, he wouldn’t blame her if she tried to disappear.

So he’d been patient and systematic as he performed this different kind of stalk, but a stalk well within his forte. He’d honed his tracking skills over centuries of hunting devious criminals; finding a woman trying to hide in plain sight would take only a fraction of his talent. And time? Who cared how long it took to find her? He had all the time in the world. He was an Indebted—cursed and long-lived. Weeks, months, or years meant nothing to him.

In response to curious glances from customers, he rotated his wrists in his lap to hide the shiny gold cufflinks. He needed to blend into the population, quite a task for such an impossibly sexy man like him, standing at over six and a half feet tall. He didn’t even have to be dressed to impress, come to think of it. Thankfully, modesty was one of his many exceptional traits.

Exceptional traits like killing? Kristus. He forced himself to relax his hand, lest he splinter the arm of the chair like he’d splintered the limbs and heads of criminals for centuries.

Thankfully, the citizens didn’t realize a murderer lounged among them in this genteel business establishment. An Indebted killer. Quite the title to go on a business card. Despite his expertise with his weapon of choice, that godforsaken foot-long knife, truth be told, he’d prefer to have a luscious flicka’s legs wrapped around him any day of the week. Thankfully, he was proficient at both activities.

Clenching his hands into fists, Dante fought the urge to stretch his fingers toward the handle. For 300 years, whenever he killed a vile criminal, he supplied the energy needed to feed his boss, Jerahmeel’s, soul. He’d have to find a criminal soon and satisfy the blade’s hunger, or innocent citizens would begin to attract the weapon’s attention.

A few sideways looks from customers of the female persuasion reminded him that he was, as usual, looking spectacular today. He flexed his shoulders, pleased when several sets of eyelashes batted. Not that he doubted his charm. A particularly luscious blonde and long-legged flicka had casually dropped her card off at his table at a restaurant yesterday. He licked his lips, anticipating a rendezvous this evening. Par for the fantastic course of his unnaturally long life.

Recently, though, his powers of attraction did not satisfy like before. What was missing? He patted his shirt pocket, reassured to feel a heavy bond paper still stored there.

Too bad the thought of a tryst didn’t hold his interest right now. Since when was he indifferent to sex? Since never. Maybe he had fallen ill?