Midnight’s Flight, A Vampire Werewolf Hybrid Paranormal Romance (The Cynn Cruors Bloodline Series, Book 8) is now available to #Preorder!
Midnight Flight by Isobelle Cate
Series: The Cynn Cruors Bloodline
Genre: A Vampire Werewolf Hybrid Paranormal Romance
Date Published: October 16th 2018
About MIDNIGHT FLIGHT
It was all Adara did.
It was all she ever knew.
Adara Kerslake has kept her identity a secret from the Cynn Cruors for as long as she can remember. When Cynn Cruor warrior, Luke Griffiths, comes hurtling into her life, she flounders. Afraid of dealing with the Cynn Cruors and the man who captured her heart, she leaves, burning bridges in the process. Until a loved one forces her to rebuild those links that brings her back into the world she fought so hard to escape from.
And to the warrior whose passion haunts her every sleeping and waking moment.
Luke goes into a spiral after Adara leaves and it is only by the strength and love of his Cynn Cruor brethren and their women that keeps him from tripping into insanity. To forget her, he prepares to leave for the Ancients’ Faesten in Anglesey on a mission that can lead to his death and the banishment of the Manchester Cynn Cruors if he isn’t careful. When Adara returns, the last thing Luke wants is to get involved again. But he can’t stay away. What’s more, someone in the Ancients’ Faesten in Anglesey knows who she is and is out to get her.
Two missions merge to one. A desire to know the truth becomes entangled with the desire that never waned between Adara and Luke.
Until a spectre from Adara’s past threatens them both…and brings in a new enemy for the Cynn Cruors.
*Although characters from other books in the series have cameo roles, this novel can be read as a standalone.
“Luke… can we talk?”
Luke’s lips flattened. “Not needed.”
The warriors stood around and waited until Luke nodded.
“Make it quick.” Roarke said as a parting shot.
The absence of sound surrounded them when Roarke and the rest left. Not even the occasional acceleration of vehicles on Princess Street below ferrying people out in the middle of the night penetrated the specially made windows. Only the continuous rain made the windows cry and everything below wet.
“Go on.” Luke’s hands rested on his hips. His heart was sonorous like it was waiting for an anvil to fall.
Ancients, Adara’s beauty hurt. Strong willed yet vulnerable, Luke had no fucking clue how to breach her walls. She swiped her tongue against her bottom lip. That unconscious gesture made Luke want to move in, shake some sense into her before claiming her lips.
She looked down to stare at her entwined fingers. “I didn’t mean to leave like that.”
Luke’s chuckle came out in a bitter huff. “That an apology?” When Adara didn’t reply, he exhaled and leaned against the mantle. “Why didn’t you say anything? You accepted the fucking bracelet only to leave it when you left. Was it so hard for you to be honest? You led me on Adara!”
“You gave me no choice and I didn’t lead you on!” Adara paced, waves of agitation hitting Luke. “If things were different I would have stayed.”
“Then what the fuck did you pull?”
“I wanted it too!” she shouted. “I wanted you! I wanted…” she pulled up a deep breath, “you…what you were offering.”
Hope jack hammered a hole in his chest but the length of time Adara waited, Luke didn’t know anymore what to think. “Cut the crap, Kerslake.”
Before he could blink, Adara had her hands on his collar and slammed him against the wall, dislodging some of the dust and raining powder on them. Her eyes flashed slowly turning red orange. Emotions ran through them. Fury. Helplessness.
Something changed between them. The air became charged with remnants of what they had. Adara’s nearness, the scent of her sweetness blanketed Luke so close his blood went south to his cock. Her bloodlust was replaced by the golden flecks of desire rising from the depths of her being. Luke zeroed in on her mouth and they parted as Adara looked at his lips too. Chest to chest, hips to hips, their hearts fluttered, responded, replied to the still undeniable sensual thread connecting them.
Then she released him and stepped away, pivoting on her heel and sinking on the sofa.
“You made me feel things I’d forgotten and discovered more than I ever thought existed. And that’s the problem. You. Made. Me. Feel. And at this point in my life, feeling is dangerous.”
MEET ISOBELLE CATE
Isobelle Cate is a woman who wears different masks. Mother-writer, wife-professional, scholar-novelist. Currently living in Manchester, she has been drawn to the little known, the secret stories, about the people and the nations: the English, the Irish, the Scots, the Welsh, and those who are now part of these nations whatever their origins. Her vision and passion are fuelled by her interest and background in history and paradoxically, shaped by growing up in a clan steeped in lore, loyalty, and legend.
Isobelle is intrigued by forces that simmer beneath the surface of these cultures, the hidden passions, unsaid desires, and yearnings unfulfilled.