In Twilight's Dawn, Bishop returns to the Blood realm with four all-new captivating novellas
Daemon, the Black Jeweled Warlord Prince of Dhemlan, is settling into his first year of married life with his Witch Queen Jaenelle. But as the thirteen-day celebration of Winsol draws near, Daemon finds himself being pulled in too many directions as he plays host to his formidable family…
-Shades of Honor
Still recovering from the ordeal that left her wounded and angry, Surreal returns to Ebon Rih on the orders of Prince Lucivar. And when her former lover Falonar ruthlessly challenges the rule of her family, Surreal may finally succumb to the darkness burning inside her…
When someone lays a vicious trap for Queen Sylvia and her sons, the fallout completely disrupts the lives of the ruling family of Dhemlan. Now, they have to uncover the identity of the warlord known only as No Face, before he returns to finish what he started…
-The High Lord’s Daughter
After losing the two most important people in his life, Daemon has assumed his father Saetan’s role as High Lord of Hell and built a wall around his heart. But when he inadvertently forges a new connection, will it be enough to break him free from his loveless life?
Les Joyaux Noirs : Twilight's Dawn
Shivering, Lucivar stepped under the pipes, twisted the lever that controlled the water, and let out a breathless scream as the frigid water hit him, turning to steam as it battled against Daemon’s warming spell.
When hands grabbed him and spun him around, his own hands balled into fists, but he managed to stop himself from hitting Daemon. He hadn’t realized Sadi had intended to strip down and actually help him wash up.
“What’s wrong with you?” Daemon’s hands tightened on Lucivar’s arms, the nails just pricking the skin.
Coming to the Keep and shocking Saetan with his appearance. Stepping under an ice-cold spray of water instead of waiting for the hot water to get through the pipes. Daemon had good reason to ask the question.
“Nothing physical,” Lucivar said.
Those long-nailed fingers clamped on either side of his head as Daemon stared into his eyes. He felt the Black brushing over his inner barriers, looking for damage, for some kind of wound.
“Nothing wrong with my mind either.”
“Then what?” Daemon’s question sounded more like a demand.
“Shades of honor. All the Eyriens on that field chose to turn on me because, in their eyes, I was still just the half-breed bastard and always would be. I’m done with that. Anyone who wants to live in my territory can accept me for what I am or they can leave.”
Water poured over both of them. Daemon’s hands slid down Lucivar’s face to rest on his shoulders.
“Every one of them is dead?” Daemon asked softly.
“Will any of them become demon-dead?”
Daemon studied him. “You could have killed them all with one blast of the Ebon-gray. Why did you give them a chance to fight and take the risk of getting hurt?”
“Their fate was decided from the moment they stepped on that field, so it wasn’t about giving them a chance.” Lucivar’s smile wobbled, and for a moment his eyes were tear-bright. “I just needed to work off some temper.”
Daemon studied him a moment longer, then nodded
J'ai pleuré. Je n'ai pu ni m'en empêcher, ni m'arrêter. "The High Lord's Daughter" est une histoire si belle et si triste ! Les autres étaient sympathiques également (surtout "Winsol Gifts", délicieusement hilarante), mais celle-ci... celle-ci est porteuse d'un tel message d'espoir et de lumière ! Une pure merveille.
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