Kensington Zebra
Featuring: Roland Warbrook; Sarah Bingham
320 pages ISBN: 1420118617 EAN: 9781420118612 Kindle: B0046ZRVZ2 Mass Market Paperback / e-Book Add to Wish List
When Sarah Bingham saves a man's life her only thought is to
get him cleaned up and off to a hospital. When he tells her
he's with the CIA and calls his team for help instead, she
is willing to help in any way she can. It isn't long before
she realizes there are deeper mysteries involved. His
allergy to sunlight, his glowing eyes and the fact that
ravening vampires are after them are huge indicators.
Roland Warbrook has been alone for many years. He fulfills
his duty as an immortal guardian but refuses to let anyone
close enough to risk another betrayal. Something about Sarah
slips past his defenses. The five foot tall kick-butt music
theory professor is handling the truth about his nature
better than can be expected, but the bottom line is she will
be dead long before his life is through. How can he risk his
heart knowing the pain to come?
There are bigger issues at stake for the Guardians, however.
Their ancient vampiric foes have a new leader who seems to
be targeting Roland, and a mysterious woman's pain-filled
mental voice has led to the discovery of a heavily guarded
military installation protecting a laboratory where she has
been tortured.
First in the Immortal Guardians series, DARKNESS DAWNS kicks
off with an electrifying start. After being sucked into the
action, you become fascinated by the characters, and find
yourself laughing your butt off in the moments of humor that
crop up. The love scenes are not just lust inducing but
funny and inventive. The paranormal elements are strong, yet
scenes are firmly grounded in logic. For example; the author
does not have petite Sarah hauling 200 pounds of gorgeous
but unconscious Roland about. The solid plotline includes
plenty of action and new ground is laid for upcoming books
without detracting from this one. I will be keeping an eye
out for the next in the series, as well as anything else
Duvall produces. This woman can write!
Once Sarah Bingham's biggest challenge was making her
students pay attention in class. Now, after rescuing a
wounded stranger, she's landed in the middle of a battle
between corrupt vampires and powerful immortals who also
need blood to survive. Roland Warbrook is the most
compelling man Sarah has ever laid hands on. But his
desire for her is mingled with a hunger he can barely
control . . .
In his nine centuries of immortal existence, no woman has
tempted Roland as much as Sarah. But asking her to love
him is impossible -- when it means forfeiting the world
she's always known, and the life he would do anything to
protect . . .
Excerpt
A strident screech pierced the predawn quiet.
The hair on the back of her neck rising, Sarah Bingham
surveyed the meadow around her. The sky had gone from black
to charcoal gray, a harbinger of sunrise that did little to
alleviate the gloom. In the nine months North Carolina had
been her home, she had heard some creepy animal calls, but
that one had sounded downright human.
Couldn't have been. She lived way out in the boonies with
no nearby neighbors.
Struggling to shake off her unease, she impaled the soil
with a shovel, turned it over, then repeated the process
that would ultimately culminate in a vegetable garden. The
unseasonable heat she had hoped to avoid by starting early
added a glimmer of moisture to her skin as she grappled
with the drought-hardened ground.
Oh yeah. A few hours of this and she would definitely
collapse into an exhausted slumber. Screw you insomnia! The
spring semester was over. Her students were gone. She was
going to sleep tonight if it killed her.
Loud snarling, growling sounds abruptly split the air,
accompanied by cracks and thumps and the snap of branches.
Starting violently, Sarah gripped the wooden handle of the
shovel and stared at the heavy undergrowth in front of her
with wide, unblinking eyes.
The foliage began to thrash and sway. Her heart slammed
against her ribs.
Oh crap! Weren't there bears in North Carolina?
Branches and leaves exploded outward as a massive dark
form, moving so fast she couldn't see it clearly, charged
toward her.
Too panicked to even scream, she dropped the wooden handle
and raised her arms to protect her face, head and neck.
A heavy weight crashed into her left side. Feet flying up,
she hit the ground hard on her back two or three yards
away. Dry soil and twigs abraded her hands as she threw
them out to the sides. Something tore through her right
shirtsleeve and cut her elbow. A painful throbbing invaded
her ribs.
Rolling onto her stomach, Sarah jerked her head up and
looked around wildly in time to see the trees that bisected
this end of the meadow envelop . . . whatever had barreled
into her.
Quiet settled upon the clearing.
Wincing, she pressed a hand to her aching side and
scrambled to her feet.
The growls and thrashing resumed, even louder than before.
Adrenaline surging through her veins, shortening her
breath, speeding her pulse, she grabbed the shovel with
shaking hands, turned it upside down and held it like a
baseball bat.
She didn't know what that thing was, but if it came back,
she was going to knock it six ways from Sunday.
“Where'd they go?” a voice called out breathlessly.
Sarah jumped and glanced at the trees that bordered the
meadow on her right.
“That way! Straight ahead! Don't lose 'em!”
Two figures, mere shadows amidst the dense, dark brush,
moved as quickly as they could in the same direction as
the . . . thing. Only visible for a brief moment before the
trees swallowed them again, they didn't appear to have
noticed her. The long-sleeved green shirt she wore over a
black tank top and sweat pants must make her blend into the
dim scenery.
The growling ceased. So did the thumps and thrashing.
Sarah took a cautious step backward. Then another.
“Ah man!” the first voice blurted. “I think I'm gonna
puke!”
“Don't be such a wuss.”
What the hell was going on? Had those guys been chasing a
bear?
It had to have been a bear, right?
“Aren't you gonna kill him?” the second voice asked.
“Let the sun finish him,” a new voice, deep and full of
malice, sneered.
“What do you want us to do?” the second countered.
“Stay until it's over,” the third instructed, his words
softened by a British accent, “then bring me whatever is
left of him.”
Sarah continued to inch toward the wall of greenery that
separated the meadow from her backyard, trying not to make
any sound that might alert them to her presence.
Who were you supposed to call when you thought someone was
torturing wild animals? 911? Animal control?
“Is he gone?” the first voice asked uneasily.
“Yeah,” the second responded.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah-yeah. He's gone. He's gone.”
“Dude! That was the most awesome thing I've ever seen in my
life!”
“Didn't I tell ya?”
Wasn't torturing animals the first step toward becoming a
serial killer?
“Hey, what are you doin'?” the first asked.
“Cuttin' his clothes off.”
Sarah froze, ice filling her veins. His clothes?
“Dude, that's so gay.”
“I'm not gay, asswipe. I wanna see what the sun's gonna do
to him.”
“Oh. Cool.”
“Get his boots.”
A man? That couldn't have been a man that had knocked her
down. It had been huge, had growled and had crossed the
clearing way too fast to have been human.
Yet, it sounded as if their victim was a man, not an
animal.
And, apparently, they weren't through with him.
Spinning around, she took three quick steps, intending to
hurry home and call 911.
“Hey, Bobby,” the second said, “you ever stabbed anyone
before?”
She halted.
“No.”
“Check this out.”
Thud.
Grunt.
“Dude!”
Crap! Reversing directions, she crossed the clearing as
quickly and quietly as she could. Her stinging hands
tightened around the shovel handle. Sweat beaded on her
skin. The bitter taste of fear invading her mouth, she
entered the trees and crept forward.
This is crazy. This is crazy.
She was a music professor, not a police officer!
But it would take too long for the police to arrive. She
lived so far from town . . .
“You wanna try it?”
“Won't they be pissed if we cut him up?”
“Not as long as he's still breathin' when the sun hits him.
And if he's not, who cares? How're they gonna know?”
The trees weren't as thick here as she had thought. After
just a few steps, Sarah stood at the edge (with any luck,
still concealed by their branches) and peered anxiously
into the next field.
A whiff of rank body odor struck her.
There were three men. One, whose face was hidden from view,
lay on the ground on his back, what she could see of him
bare. His arms had been pulled away from his sides and
appeared to be held down by something she couldn't glimpse
through the tall grasses. Closer to her, his ankles had
been lashed together with . . . rope? The weeds obscured
them too much to tell. But they, too, were held down,
judging by the way his thigh muscles continually flexed and
strained.
A blond in faded jeans and a yellow T-shirt straddled the
man's thighs, his back to Sarah. A second with brown hair
stood beside him, mostly turned away, gaping down at the
naked man.
Though she only caught a quick impression of their faces,
Sarah guessed the assailants were around twenty years old.
The blond suddenly raised both hands above his head, his
fingers curled around the grip of a pocketknife, then
slammed them down.
Thud.
The naked man jerked and grunted with pain.
The brunette yelled, “Dude! Awesome!”
Sickened, terrified, trembling uncontrollably, Sarah
stepped out of the trees, skulked forward and swung the
shovel.
The blond looked up at his accomplice. “You wanna--”
Thunk.
Yellow Shirt slumped sideways, hit the ground and lay
still.
The second man gaped at his friend in stupefaction, then
spun toward Sarah . . . just as she swung again.
Thunk.
Right between the eyes.
“Ow!”
Uh oh.
Staggering back a step, he swore profusely, blinked hard
several times, then frowned.
Thunk.
That did it. His pale eyes rolled back in his head as he
sank bonelessly to the ground.
When Sarah turned her attention to the naked man, her
stomach lurched and she thought for a moment she might be
sick.
He had indeed been restrained. Thick, rough rope stained
with blood bound his ankles and had rubbed his skin raw. A
T-shaped metal spike as thick as her thumb had been driven
into the ground between them, immobilizing him and cutting
deep grooves into his flesh. Identical spikes had been
driven through the palm of each hand, pinning his arms to
the ground.
It was as if they had wanted to crucify him but, lacking
the necessary lumber, had staked him to the ground instead.
“Oh sh**.” The whisper escaped her involuntarily.
If the stakes weren't enough, two stab wounds marred his
abdomen, courtesy of the blond. Deep gashes, weeping
copious amounts of blood, scored the man's muscled arms,
chest and legs.
As she fought back nausea, Sarah directed her gaze to his
face.
He was perhaps in his mid-thirties and handsome, despite
the clenched jaw and lines of pain that bracketed his mouth
and eyes. Short, jet black hair. Matching brows. Straight
nose. Piercing, dark brown eyes that caught and held hers
as she unlocked her stiff limbs and forced herself to move
forward.
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