HAPPY RELEASE DAY!
To celebrate the highly anticipated release of Kiss of Vengeance, the second book in the True Immortality series, the lovely Samantha Young has provided an exclusive excerpt for readers to dive into. It’s intriguing and seductive and will leave you wanting more! Keep reading for the excerpt below and don’t forget to order your copy today (links below).
What’s the book about?
A standalone adult paranormal romance from New York Times Bestselling author Samantha Young writing as S. Young.
Fionn Mór was once a high king of Ireland; a fierce warrior who led his tribes against the invading fae. It was a war he couldn’t win and to save his family he turned consort for the Fae Queen. Fionn escaped as the thing he once despised, and the people he loved betrayed him for it. Now, centuries later, it’s time to reopen the gates to Faerie to take his revenge against the Faerie Queen.
At sixteen Rose Kelly discovered family secrets that changed her forever. Years after, she’s still lost, traveling across Europe in search of that elusive missing ‘something’. When she’s attacked by a vampire, not only is she wrenched into a supernatural underworld she never knew existed, a knock on the head releases a spell on her mind and unlocks powers beyond her wildest imaginings. And with them more questions. Questions Fionn Mór claims to have answers to.
Following the powerful and enigmatic Fionn to Ireland, Rose quickly realizes she’s a pawn in his plan for vengeance. What begins as a passionate battle of wills leads to an inexplicable but undeniable connection. One that will force them to face an impossible choice between the deepest love… and the darkest revenge.
Read the exclusive excerpt
A thudding, prolonged bass, followed by electronic pop filled the club. The ethereal voice of Ruelle echoed around the room. Rose knew the song. It was called “Live Like Legends.”
She looked out into the crowd of dancers to see they were writhing together, their movements becoming more sexual as the music built to a crescendo. Wondering at the strange feeling that had descended over her, Rose searched the dancers for something—she didn’t know what. Perhaps for something that was out of place in the sixteenth-century building turned nightclub.
“Hej, ti, naša pića!” A customer snapped his fingers in her face.
It successfully yanked her from her study of the dancers. “Don’t snap your fingers at me.” She didn’t care if he couldn’t understand her. Her tone was of the universal language of, “I don’t take shit from anyone.”
He sneered but thankfully shut up.
She’d just finished serving the rude guy when the music hit its peak, the bass and drums deep and booming, strings—most likely violins—frenzied, beautiful, and the electronic pop sound Ruelle was known for building to a climax in the same style of an epic movie trailer. Awareness scored her spine, turning the damp, warm skin of her nape cool. It felt like strong fingers clasping her neck.
The feeling was so ridiculously powerful, for a moment Rose thought there was someone touching her. She spun away from the cash register, nostrils flaring as she took in the space around her, finding not even her colleagues near. Both Petra and Josip were on the other side of the circle.
And that’s when she felt it.
Like all the air had evacuated the room.
Chest tight, Rose gasped as her gaze shifted over the parting crowds. Her feet moved without her command, stumbling toward the bar counter—as though someone had tied a rope around her, lassoing her. Holding her captive.
Then she saw him.
Head and shoulders above everyone else, she saw a hulking figure, hair of indiscriminate color illuminated every few seconds by the dancing beams of light. The crowd parted for him as he glided through the sea of bodies. For such a big man, he moved gracefully, light as air, impossibly so … almost otherworldly.
Longish hair framed his bold face, the ends tickling his angular jawline. His nose was a sharp blade to match the sharp angles of his cheekbones. Thick stubble covered the lower half of his face, surrounding a mouth pressed tight with concentration as his head swung from left to right, as though he were searching for something or someone.
Rose swallowed hard, her mouth dry. The man was mammoth. He had to be over six and a half feet tall. If his height wasn’t enough to draw attention, the way he dressed was. The club was hot, yet he swept through the rabble wearing a dark three-piece suit and a long, black wool overcoat.
He paused, his heavy brows drawing together. His body language reminded her of an animal catching a scent, alert, rigid—a hunter beneath that civilized attire. Then his head snapped in her direction and their eyes locked.
An invisible weight slammed into Rose’s chest, and she wheezed. Thankfully, the loss of breath lasted seconds, and she sucked in a huge gulp of air. “Fuck,” she whispered, shaking as the stranger continued to stare at her.
The lasers of light bounced off his face, highlighting eyes so green they couldn’t be human.
It’s the lasers, Rose told herself. No one’s eyes are that color unless they’re wearing contacts.
Nothing, however, explained the intensity of feeling that held her still beneath the man’s regard.