“…shocking developments and a whopper of an ending …
I really kind of loved it.”
If dying is the cost of protecting those you love… bring it.
An Alterant who fights trolls, demons, and other deadly creatures, Evalle is an outcast among the Beladors. But now she can change all that - and finally get answers about her origins. In her attempt to take down the Belador traitor and bring home a captured friend, she infiltrates the dangerous Medb coven where she discovers exactly what an Alterant really is...and the news is not good for the Beladors.
Meanwhile, Evalle’s best friends Tzader and Quinn face unthinkable choices, as relationships with the women they love grow twisted. With time ticking down on a decision that will compel allies to become deadly enemies, Evalle turns to Storm and takes a major step in their relationship that takes a deadly turn when the witchdoctor he’s been hunting now stalks Evalle. She's forced to embrace her destiny . . . but at what price?
“..get ready to be totally blown away by the latest installment.…Sherrilyn Kenyon and Dianna Love take the reader on an emotional journey, one where hearts pound and tears threaten along with numerous smiles.”
~~Single Title reviews
Thanks for reading the Belador series!
Dianna sets the price on books from Demon Storm on, which will always remain reasonable.
Dependable intel made the difference between walking away from a dangerous situation alive . . . or not.
Evalle Kincaid stared down the rocky slope in the North Georgia Mountains at bad intel.
She’d dug up one slim lead in forty-eight hours of racing to find Tristan. He was an Alterant like her. Similar powers and the same glowing green eyes, except he hadn’t been gifted with her natural night vision, an ability she’d needed to hike up this mountain in the middle of the night.
Disgusted, she muttered, “That’s no coven meeting.”
“No,” Storm agreed. Squatted next to her, his breath puffed white clouds against the chilly October air. “Looks more like a midnight festival for all things strange and dangerous.” Coal black hair grazed his shoulders and blended into his black leather jacket. Soft hair Evalle loved caressing. The coppery skin and sharp angles of Storm’s cheekbones had been handed down through a mix of Ashaninka and Navajo genes, as had his Skinwalker ability to shift into a deadly black jaguar. That meant he also had preternatural night vision and saw just fine in the dark.
Evalle leaned forward where they hunkered down behind an outcropping of boulders, and searched the area a hundred yards away where moonlight cascaded across a valley. At least twenty people—mostly nonhumans—had gathered, and more were coming. “You see any female in that bunch that might be a witch?”
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