Rest and Relaxation is unlikely for Quinton Valtrez when an explosion rocks Savannah, Georgia on All Hallows' Eve. In the midst of its aftermath, Annabelle Armstrong from CNN witnesses the impossible. Following up a lead that Valtrez is a trained undercover assassin for the military; she instead witnesses him save a man trapped by fallen debris. The rumors of his violent nature do not matching his heroic acts and the compassion she witnesses. More determined than ever to solve the mystery and get her story, she is caught breaking into his house. She knows too much, and he is ordered to terminate her.
Quinton Valtrez is a wanted man. Not just by the women, but by his father, Zion the new leader of the underground. Supposedly orphaned and raised by monks at the monastery, they have done all they could to prepare him against the battle between good and evil that wages through his soul. More than human strength is his ability to use his mind on physical movement and to read others. Later the military trains him as a sniper, and as long as his expertise is used against criminals when justice has their hands tied, his are not.
Witnessing Zion's son's protective measures to the meddlesome reporter and after the Death Angel gorges himself on the dead flesh, he reports back to Zion. The ruler of the underworld baits his trap to turn his son to the dark side and sends his servant turns to his next site of violence.
A text message is sent to Annabelle. She has 24 hours before a second bomb is detonated. Their only clue is the vultures. They arrive in droves precipitating the violence and death.
Vincent Valtrez introduces himself. They are brothers. The monks hadn't lied, they just hadn't known enough of the truth. If there isn't enough good, if Quinton is unable to stabilize himself against evil, Vincent will remove him. Permanently.
DARK HUNGER by Rita Herron is a Romance/Paranormal with mystery elements. It is fast paced. Rita Herron definitely knows which 'buttons' to both piss off her heroine and make bring them together.
Telepath Quinton Valtrez wants nothing from Annabelle
Armstrong except her luscious body. One peek into her mind,
however, and he knows that that this CNN reporter has
uncovered his identity as a government assassin and is
determined to expose all of his dark secrets, one by one.
He'll never let that happen, his uncontrollable hunger for
her be damned. But when a bomber strikes as they're both in
range, killing hundreds, Annabelle devotes herself entirely
to the story.
Thrown together by danger and desperate to
stop the violence, Quinton and Annabelle uncover that the
serial bomber is a supernatural attack, perpetrated by an
evil force that exerts mind control over people and turns
them into killers. But when the forces of evil unite to
overpower them, targeting Annabelle in order to ensnare him,
Quinton must face his own destiny as one of the Demonborn
and join forces with his brother Vincent (from
Insatiable Desire) to save Annabelle and fight the
evil threatening to overtake them.
Annabelle Armstrongβs gaze locked with Quinton Valtrezβs.
Damn. Sheβd come here to find him but hadnβt expected to see
him tonight. Not in the midst of a party in town.
And she certainly hadnβt expected his penetrating gaze to
rattle her. Or make her tingle with desire.
βAnnabelle, are you listening?β Her boss Roland from CNN
barked over the phone. βDo you think you can get this story?β
βYes,β she said into her cell phone. βIf Valtrez is this
Ghost assassin working for some secret government unit, Iβll
find out.β
She sucked in a sharp breath, well aware that the man hadnβt
moved since heβd spotted her. That his cold eyes and tightly
set mouth screamed of danger. That every bone in her body
warned her to run.
To forget this story or she might end up dead.
"Annabelle?β her boss shouted.
βYes, Roland, Iβll do whatever I have to do to find out the
truth.β
She snapped the phone shut, smoothed down her skirt and
desperately struggled for a playful flirty smile.
Quinton Valtrez was devastatingly and darkly handsome.
Bigger than sheβd imagined. His features were chiseled in
stone, and his five oβclock shadow painted his bronzed stoic
jaw with a hint of menace.
Her body tingled. Still, he was just a man.
And she was damn well tired of being the low one on the food
chain at the station. Of being assigned human-interest
pieces instead of the big stories.
Sheβd do whatever necessary to get the scoop this time.
Even if it meant cozying up to a killer.
Suddenly a loud explosion rent the air, and the outer deck
of the party ship exploded. Annabelle stumbled, the earth
trembling below her feet as flames shot into the air. Wood
and fiberglass shattered and spewed across the sidewalk, and
bodies collapsed into the burning rubble.
****
Quinton threw himself over Annabelle Armstrong, his heart
hammering. What in the hell was happening? Were they under a
terrorist attack?
And why in the hell had he tried to save her?
Pure instincts, he thought quickly.
A bloody arm landed beside them, its charred fingers
reaching toward him as if begging for help.
Then a vulture swooped down and snapped up the bone,
crunching it between his jagged teeth. A sinister look lit
the birdβs beady eyes, and in that split second, he could
have sworn that the vulture smiled.
The rumble of the blazing fire continued as heat pelted him,
and Annabelleβs soft body trembled beneath him.
In the midst of the chaos and acrid odors of charred flesh
and burning wood, the horrific scent of evil splintered the air.
He had to do something.
He lifted his head slightly. βAre you okay?β he growled.
She moved slightly as if to push him off. βYes, I think so.β
Forcing himself onto his hands and knees, he extricated
himself and stood, studying her. βAre you sure?β
βYes,β she said, her voice strained, as she looked around at
the mad chaos and dead bodies floating in the river.
The panicked screams jerked him into action. He dashed
toward the burning ship, leaving Annabelle alone.
He needed to sniff out this killer. As he ran, he sent a
text to his contact at Homeland Security to alert them of
the attack.
****
The Death Angel flapped his black wings and bowed his bald
head to Zion, paying umbrage to the new leader of the
underworld. His belly was swollen from his recent meal, yet
he still craved more tasty carrion.
The human bones and meat were especially delicious. Being
sent into the hybrid of the vulture and Raven as his demonic
form for eternity had been punishment at its worst, but over
the past century, he had embraced the predatorβs needs and
urges, and now savored the agility of the birdβs keen
eyesight, flight patterns and sharp talons.
Demons, shapeshifters, werecreatures, vampires, fallen
angels and other soldiers of Satan gathered in the
underground cave of black rock lit by the fiery torches.
Zion entered, his black cape billowing around his demonic
form, his orange eyes lighting up the darkness. The mortals
would run in terror if they saw him, complete now with sharp
fang like claws, the devilβs horns, flaming red scales and
cloven feet.
βThe death toll?β Zion asked.
βIn the hundreds.β
Striking on all Hallowβs Eve, the night of the dead, had
been genius. All heβd had to do was slide past the Twilight
Guards, those with powers who guarded the portal between the
mortals and humans, then heβd crossed into the mortalβs
world. Thousands of other demons had unleashed themselves
tonight, their screeches unrecognizable to the humans but
calling the others to announce their presence. The pagan
holiday had also afforded him the opportunity to possess a
humanβs body and walk among the masses unnoticed β the one
he had chosen would serve him well.
And now that same one lay in a sleep-induced stage awaiting
his return. The bastard had been an easy mark, had been too
weak to fight, his soul already black.
Just as the Death Angelβs power allowed him to crawl into
the feeble minds of the weak on Earth, put their minds to
sleep, then bend them to his will.
One touch and they became marionettes dancing on his string.
βI commend you.β Zionβs fiery breath rippled out in
pleasure. βWhen I said spread evil and create chaos, you
embraced the challenge.β
The Death Angel flapped his wings with pride.
βAnd my sons?β Zion asked
βThe seer found one of the twins, Quinton. He lives in the
place they call Savannah, Georgia. This attack should
capture the demonbornβs attention.β
Zionβs red eyes flared, shooting sparks of crisp yellow
flames across the black rock in jagged lightning-like lines.
βQuinton should be easy. He has succumbed to his destiny
already by choosing to be a killer.β
The Death Angel refrained from comment. That was true,
although technically the Dark Lord only targeted the sinners.
But the fact that Quinton had no remorse, no conscience over
his kills, worked in their favor and would ultimately be his
downfall.
Unfortunately, the Dark Lordβs cause also kept the balance
of good and evil alive within him.
That balance had to be destroyed.
The Dark Lord had a weakness for that reporter. They could
use her to trap him.
She would also bring attention to the Death Angelβs
victories with the mortals, keep a tally of the dead and
create pain and misery with her stories.
Heβd use her until she became dispensable, then heβd expose
of her. He might even be able to twist Quinton to the point
that he killed the woman.
That would definitely earn Quinton his place in the kingdom
of evil.
© 2003-2026