"This Queen of Vampires is at a frightening, miraculous crossroads."
Reviewed by Annetta Sweetko
Posted July 9, 2013
Romance Paranormal
For centuries, Mara has been a vampire, the NIGHT'S
MISTRESS but somehow miraculously she finds herself
pregnant... and losing her powers. Now with two men in her
life and this little miracle she is torn. For the first
time in centuries she isn't feeling her confident,
independent self. She doesn't know which way to turn.
Kyle Bowden is the mortal father of her baby. He's an artist
who is smitten with the lovely Mara and is ready to give
anything to be with her. Until he finds out that she is the
Queen of the Vampires.
Then there is Logan Blackwood, a vampire that she had
created nearly 1,000 years before. Now this millionaire
wants the one woman who held his heart all these years back
and nothing will stand in his way. Not a baby and certainly
not a human male.
Time is running out for Mara, with her Dark Gift fading she
must decide what is best to do for the baby she carries
while surviving hunters and a mysterious danger that
threatens her very future and those she loves.
NIGHT'S MISTRESS grabs you from the very first word and
leads you on a masterfully written thrill ride. Mara is a
multifaceted very intriguing character, Logan is one sexy
determined vampire and Kyle seemed to be more or less a
handsome, sensitive interloper. I was intrigued by the many
layers to Mara's world and how she slowly dealt with
everything including her past and the new life as a human.
I totally enjoyed this book have happily placed it in my re-
read pile.
SUMMARY
Mara. She is mysterious, alluring, a creature of the
night,
torn between two unforgettable men. . .
Kyle Bowden. A gorgeous, golden-haired artist full of
passion and life, Kyle is ready to give his soul to Mara—
until he learns her terrible secret.
Logan Blackwood. The Vampire she created nine-hundred
years
ago is now a Hollywood millionaire with all the dark
seductive power of his kind, yet Logan still longs for
the
woman who turned him.
With enemies on all sides—and her Dark Gift fading—Mara
must
choose one lover. . .for all eternity
ExcerptHe was about to call it a night when a woman clad in a
pair of black stretch pants, a white silk shirt, and
high–heeled black boots stepped out of a
late–night boutique. Logan stared at her. It
couldn't
be, he thought, but it was. Mara, the Vampire who had
turned
him over nine hundred years ago. Though he had not seen
her
in centuries, he recognized her instantly. But that was
understandable. Having once seen her, no man on earth,
living or Undead, would ever forget her. She looked just
as
she had that fateful night centuries ago, slender with
lush
curves in all the right places, her hair like a waterfall
of
gleaming black silk, her eyes as bright and green as
emeralds. Mara.
She turned his way just then and he
inclined
his head in greeting, wondering if she even remembered
him,
and then he saw that she was wearing the
heart–shaped
ruby pendant he had given her so long ago. If she wore
the
ruby, she hadn't forgotten him. Had she ever wondered
what
had become of him after she walked away without a word?
Would she acknowledge him now?
She stared at him for a long moment, her
eyes
widening in recognition, and then, with a toss of her
head,
she glided toward him, as lithe and beautiful as he
remembered.
"Mara."
"Hektor. This is a surprise." She
experienced
a warm rush of excitement at seeing him again, but then,
how
could she not? He was gorgeous, by far the most handsome
man
she had ever known, with his thick, wavy black hair and
deep
brown eyes. A supple black leather jacket caressed his
broad
shoulders, faded blue jeans encased his long legs. The
boots
he wore were scuffed but expensive. He looked fit and
prosperous and as sexy as the devil on a Saturday night.
The
dimple in his left cheek winked at her when he smiled.
"I go by the name of Logan now," he said.
"Logan Blackwood." His gaze swept over her in a long,
assessing glance. "So, how have you been?"
"The same as always. You're looking well."
"So are you." And yet, there was something
different about her, though what it was, he couldn't say.
But something wasn't right. He took a deep breath, and
then
frowned. "Do I smell onions on your breath?"
She shrugged. "Perhaps."
"How is that possible?"
"I'm Mara," she replied with an enigmatic
smile. "Anything is possible."
Grinning, he said, "Ah, girl, you don't
know
how much I've missed you." He hadn't meant to speak the
words aloud. Knowing that she didn't want entanglements
of
any kind, he had never confessed his love for her. When
she
left him, he had told himself that it didn't matter. In
the
years that followed, he had convinced himself that he was
over her, that he had stopped loving her centuries ago,
yet
one look and he knew he had been kidding himself. He
would
love her until the day he ceased to exist.
"Have you?" Her gaze searched his, as if
she
were trying to decide if he was telling the truth.
"Missed me?"
"Every night of my life."
"You never came looking for me."
"What was the point?" he asked, unable to
keep a note of bitterness from creeping into his voice.
"You
made it clear that you wanted a clean break." He would
have
followed her to hell and back if he had thought she cared
at
all. But he had his pride. He had been nothing more to
her
than a momentary diversion; the fact that she had severed
the link between them had proved that.
"It seems fate has decided we should meet
again." She started walking, confident that he would
follow.
"What have you been doing since we parted?"
Logan fell into step beside her, shortening his
naturally
long stride to match her much shorter one. "Trying to
keep
busy," he said with a shrug. "Always looking for
something I
haven't experienced before." Which, after nine hundred
years, wasn't easy to find. "How about you?"
"The same."
"I was on my way home," he said casually.
"Would you care to come along?"
She hesitated a moment, and then nodded.
It
had been a long time, after all. She was curious to see
how
and where he lived. There had been many men in her life,
but
none like Logan. The fire between them had burned
brighter
than the sun. His power, even when first turned, had been
stronger than that of any of her other fledglings.
Perhaps
it was because he had been arrogant,
self–confident,
and strong, even as a mortal. It had been those very
characteristics that had drawn her to him. He had
burrowed
deep into her heart. When she found herself caring too
much,
willing to surrender her will to his, she left him.
Logan's home proved to be a mansion in the
hills not far from her own. The large, two–story
white house was set behind a tall wrought–iron
fence
amid well–tended grounds. Sycamore trees lined the
long, winding driveway. A veranda spanned the front of
the
house; wrought–iron bars covered the windows.
"You've done well for yourself, I see," she remarked
as
he unlocked the front door.
He shrugged. "Well enough."
He led the way into the house. A large
stone
fireplace dominated the living room. The furniture was
modern and expensive. Her feet sank into the plush
dove–gray carpet.
"Very nice," she murmured.
"I like it." He stood inside the doorway,
his
arms crossed over his chest, while she wandered around
the
room. She paused to browse the titles on the bookshelf,
moved on to examine a small marble statue of Venus that
sat
on a low table next to a ruby sphinx.
Moving to the fireplace, she ran her hand over a gold
statue. "An Oscar?" She glanced at him over her shoulder.
"I produced the best picture last year,"
he
said, a trace of pride in his voice.
"Really? That's wonderful, but...when did
you
get into the movie business?"
"A few years ago." He gestured toward the
sofa. "Please, sit down."
She sat at one end of the sofa and he sat
at
the other.
"I was bored," he remarked, picking up
their
conversation. "I started hanging out where the stars
congregate. One night I overheard some guy saying he had
this great idea for a movie but it was so off the wall
that
no one in the business would give him the time of day. I
told him I'd finance him. He made four movies with my
backing. The fourth hit the jackpot."
"Congratulations."
"Thanks."
"What did you do before that?"
He draped his arm along the back of the
sofa.
"I was a dealer in Vegas for awhile. I worked as a
bartender
at a fancy singles' club in Chicago. I tried my hand at
being a night watchman for a big corporation in
Manhattan,
but that didn't last long."
Mara nodded. She tried not to stare at
him,
but she couldn't seem to help herself. He truly was a
magnificent looking man. She had met him in Crete in
1109.
He had been twenty–six at the time. Despite the
fact
that he had been betrothed to another, they'd had a
torrid
love affair. One night, caught up in the heat of passion,
she had bitten him and accidentally taken too much.
Rather than let him die, she had brought him across.
Rather than face his family, he had fled the country.
Mara had stayed with him for a time, but when she
found
herself caring for him more than she wanted to, she had
fled
without a word. Though she had never admitted it to
another
soul, she had cared for Hektor – Logan, she reminded
herself
– in a way she had never cared for any of the other
men she had turned.
Truth be told, she still cared. There was something
about
him that set him apart from the rest, something more than
his chiseled good looks and deep–set brown eyes.
Even
though she had turned Logan against his will, he had
never
berated her for it, never cursed her or tried to destroy
her
as she had destroyed Dendar. He hadn't bewailed the loss
of
his humanity; instead, he had accepted his new way of
life,
and her, without reproach. She had always admired him for
that.
She couldn't help wondering now if leaving him had
been a
mistake.
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