An unseen force has been awakened under the bowels of London. Jonah McRae and his band of Dreadfuls have been called forth to dispatch the undead, and send them back to the depths of hell. What he hadn’t counted on was a raven-haired beauty, Annabelle Craig.
Monsters are Annabelle’s life. Trained by the best monster hunter of them all, she is ready to take on the scourge plaguing London at night. However, the lines between monster and hero are skewed when Jonah, an immortal, and his men are bound and determined to fight beside her.
Each night the zombie horde grows stronger and shows no sight of easing, even as the chemistry between Annabelle and Jonah builds. Without finding the source of their reanimation, The Dreadfuls, along with Annabelle’s Misfits, are doomed to fight until the whole city is razed or the culprit is found. Even worse, the compulsion to take what is not his - the beautiful and capable Annabelle – pushes Jonah to the extreme. Will he take what he desires and let the city burn? Or, forgo his savage need and sacrifice himself to save London?
The rain fell in a light mist, coating the cobblestone alley in a slick, putrid mess. Nights like these caused the ardor to rise within Jonah McRae. The thrill of the chase. Cornering his prey. Taking his fill from them as they fought to their dying breath. The absolute splendor in spending himself inside a female gave him such a rush. One he didn’t experience as often as he used to before he met Omer Cause, and his life irrevocably changed for the better.
The clop of hooves on cobblestone streets echoed off the narrow passageway, adding to the tension rising around him. Tonight, he hunted. The woman he stalked had been waiting for him outside the gentlemen’s club when he left—a sure sign it was meant to be. He told her his favorite fantasy, and she ran. His dick thickened. The thrill of the hunt filled him with such joy. To retrieve the memories of old and give over to his primal instincts. No, he might not kill anymore, but he could still have a little fun.
“Please, sir.” Her soft, lilting voice shot straight to his bollocks, tightening them.
Jonah tracked her, keeping to the shadows as they wound their way deeper into the heart of London. His pace was even, light. Every so often the petite woman would turn, casting half of her features in shadow. He could smell her fear and excitement. Taste it on the crisp night air. His cock hardened to the point of pain.
“Shh, pretty. This will only take a moment.” The corner of his mouth kicked upward in a smirk. Power radiated from him. One night to chase was never enough for him. It didn’t satisfy the burning ache for more.
Damn Dr. Brew and his elixir. The horrid tasting trash sustained him, but never quenched the need to take more. Nevertheless, it was part of the contract he agreed to.
“Y-y-you’re scaring me.” She stopped in the light. The discarded ragged remnants of a once fancy dress she wore hung from her lithe frame as she gathered the bodice. Each time her chest rose, it gave him a glimpse of her creamy breasts and the edge of her pink areolas.
His mouth watered and his gums throbbed as he took a step forward, mindful of keeping to the darkness. He held out his hand to her. “Come.” He dipped his chin, capturing her gaze with his. “Walk with me.”
“Yes…” She reached out to him. The fear left her pretty amber eyes, was replaced with peace. A mind trick he’d learned over the years.
“Take.” His heart thumped in his chest. Once…twice… “Take.”
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