Download Crimson Debt (Born to Darkness, Book 1) by Evangeline Anderson PDF

By Evangeline Anderson

Addison Godwin is a Non-Glam—one of the only in 10000 people who's resistant to vampire glamour and brain methods. Her reward permits her to paintings as an Auditor, imposing the legislation that vampires and people hold their distance from one another other than in a basically non-physical method. The legislation is important simply because while a vampire attempts to have intercourse with a human their blood-lust combines with their sexual urge for food and the outcome appears like street kill.

Alec Corbin is a 4 superstar grasp Vampire with piercing blue eyes and intentions to get Addison into his mattress. He grants he might be light yet Addison has obvious method too many vamp/human crime scenes to move for that. She has no real interest in the six foot 4 hunk of attractive vampire guy sweet, whether he's supernaturally hot.

But simply because she Audits (and occasionally executes) vampires for a dwelling, doesn't suggest she hates all of them. Her ally, Taylor, was once grew to become opposed to her will. Now, dwelling as a slave to 1 of the crueler grasp vamps on the town, she leads a depressing life and Addison helpless to save lots of her in the confines of the law.

Things come to a head whilst the Vampire Inquisitor involves city and Taylor is given to him as a intercourse slave. whilst Addison sees her ally tortured, overwhelmed, and burned with silver she understands she has to do something—even if it capacity teaming up with Corbin and paying the pink Debt.

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Additional resources for Crimson Debt (Born to Darkness, Book 1)

Sample text

My mother had given them to me as a stocking stuffer three years ago. " He came in close with the camera. " "Yeah. " I gave him that grin he liked so much. Then I thought of him beating off to this picture tomorrow night and my smile grew. "Very nice. " The flash went. The motor wound. The light left an after image on my retina, but I dimly saw Bill snatch at the Polaroid. He set the camera on the shelf beside a thick pile of pictures. He waved the square slowly in the air trying to speed the chemicals.

I pulled out the front and tail but left it 56 — Closure on, hanging open. "Nice chest," he said. Even if Bill gave the commands, he knew the power dynamics here, and I think he resented it. He remained stock still, but the way his knees bent I knew he was restless. I shrugged the yoke of the shirt and let it drape from my elbows. I unbuckled my pants. My feelings in the kitchen had been an indication, but still I was surprised how my desire responded to this play. An exhibitionist, and I never knew it.

The ice in my scotch had melted. I took the pile of Polaroids down and sat on the sofa. Methodically I flipped each picture off the top, examined it and put it at the bottom of the pile. Faces. Only faces. They held nothing in common but the photographer. A few I vaguely recognized: the owner of an antique market, a waiter, a bar-boy, a vagrant. A vagrant? I held this one closer. Definitely: the Recipe Man. I used to see him on my way to work for at least two years. Usually he'd sit in a doorway, grizzled, dirty, covered in a blanket with his palm held out.

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