Suddenly, she was swept into his arms, and he turned his back to the suit of mail as it lurched forward, clutching her in his embrace and hunching his shoulders to protect her.
The suit of armor toppled around them, crashing to the floor. Solace hid behind Logan for a long moment after the noise had ceased. Then, realizing what had happened, she lifted her head. His arms were still around her, a fact that was strangely reassuring. But it was in his eyes she found true comfort. There was something tender and caring deep within his orbs, and for a moment Solace thought it was worry as his gaze swept her face, looking for something. So intensely did they search that she believed he could see into her very soul, see the reason why she still clung to him, see the reason for the ease with which her body lay against his.
Embarrassed, she looked away. The scattered pieces of plate mail on the floor caught her attention, and she lowered her eyes to the fallen shield. Blue and gold reflected up at her in the sun’s bright light. There was a crest upon the shield, but before she could look at it, Logan’s hand was at the nape of her neck, turning her head toward his. His lips descended over hers, desperately, warming hers with his, igniting a fire so hot that it threatened to consume her. She clung to him as if he were her only hope at salvation. She tilted her head to his in an innocent mixture of curiosity and relinquishment. His desperation turned into a slow seduction as he gently coaxed her mouth to open to him with gentle touches of his lips and tongue against her soft skin.
She tentatively parted her lips for him, and he urged them wider, entering her mouth with his tongue, exploring the soft recesses. A groan escaped her lips, and she leaned fully against his strong, hard body.
Logan broke the kiss, pulling back slightly. “You shouldn’t be here alone,” he repeated.
His body was pressed against hers, and his arms were still securely around her, binding her to him. Solace stared at him through half-opened eyes. She felt she was floating, caught in a foggy dream.
“It’s dangerous,” he whispered.
The Lady and the Falconer Bonus Chapters Preview
Immortal Death - Excerpt
"Is that how the story ends?” Jade whispered, hesitantly. “Does Rosaline die?”
Demetrius pressed his lips together and looked away from her, nodding.
"I don’t want my story to end that way,” Jade said, her voice thick. “My Demetrius would be…destroyed. He would…”
Demetrius looked at her and was shocked to find glistening tears ringing her eyes.
"He’d be devastated.” Jade looked at him, her eyes tormented with anguish.
He reached out to her, taking her face in his hands. His fingers stroked soothing circles over her temples. “He would not have wanted to go on,” he said gently. He didn’t like to see her tears. He didn’t like her sadness. It made his own anguish worse. He pulled her close to him, holding her. “Don’t be sad. It happened a long time ago.”
"But he’s my Demetrius. If I can’t make him happy, who can?”
Her words shocked him, confused him. His gaze dropped to her lips. She was so beautiful. So very mesmerizing. It was so dangerous to be this close to any mortal, yet alone Jade. So dangerous. He couldn’t help how he was leaning in toward her. Just one taste. Just one touch of her warm skin. He had been so cold since Rosaline’s death.
"Rosaline would have wanted him to be happy,” Jade said softly.
Her words halted him a mere inch from her lips. “Happy?” he whispered bitterly. “Without her? It wasn’t possible. She was so vibrant and so full of life. When she died, she took his life with her. His heart died when that dagger was plunged through hers.” He stopped cold, but did not pull away from her. Her eyes were like a sea of blue, consuming, compassionate. And he needed that retribution. Absolution for not being able to protect Rosaline.
"She couldn’t help it,” Jade whispered. “She would have stayed with him if she could. She would never have left him. But there was betrayal. And–”
"Betrayal?” Demetrius demanded, his gaze sweeping her face. “What do you mean by betrayal?”
"Didn’t you tell me that? Someone close to her…” Her hand brushed across his arm. “I don’t know. I feel like it was someone she trusted.”
"Trusted?” he echoed, disbelievingly. It had been a Malachite. There was no way Rosaline would have trusted one of those monsters. No way. Maybe Jade didn’t know the story as well as he thought she did, as well as she pretended. Her hot breath fanned over his face and the story became less and less important. All that was important was the feel of her in his arms, the need to have her lips against his.
"Sometimes, I feel the story,” she whispered. “Not the way I want it to be, but the way that feels right.”
Demetrius stared down into her eyes and then moved his gaze languorously to her lips. She was so lovely. So enticing. A longing and need rose in him like he hadn’t felt in all the years since Rosaline.
The first touch of their lips was tentative, testing, as if he were giving her a chance to escape. But she didn’t pull back. A taste, he reminded himself. Her lips were hot, not just warm. It wasn’t enough. He wanted a larger taste. More. Demetrius pressed his lips to hers, fully. With a gentle stroke of his tongue across her mouth, her lips parted. And he couldn’t help himself. He was lost. He swept his tongue into her mouth, pulling her against him.
For the first time in centuries, he hardened. It was sweet, sweet ecstasy to feel her against him, to touch her face, her lips. Lord, he’d forgotten how absolutely breathtaking it was. She pressed her tongue to his and he almost exploded. He wanted her. He leaned into her, pushing her back against the bed. She was so small beneath him and he felt a sudden need to protect her. His emotions…yes, emotions, churned. He had been dead for so long he barely recognized the passion. But now, now it was as if he were given a second chance, a bolt of powerful desire shot through him and he crushed her to him.
She tasted of coffee and strawberry ice cream. Demetrius knew this was wrong. She was a mortal! She was not like him. And yet, he could not stop. He didn’t want to. He wanted to feel her. All of her. He wanted to touch her. She warmed him, touched him inside, made him feel alive again.
Lost Souls: Resurrection - Episode 1 - Excerpt
Christian paced before the line of trains. For the first time, he realized he was in a train yard, maybe a freight yard. An empty train stood before him. Such rage and anger at what he had become, what Aurora had proclaimed, scorched through him. He grabbed the train car and with an inhuman roar of rage and betrayal and hurt, he tilted it, pushing it over onto its side. It landed with a loud thud and a puff of dust spewed out from all sides.
Christian stood before the toppled train, unmoving. His muscles clenched tight, ready to explode. He wanted to topple a building. He wanted to rip apart a jet. And he knew it still wouldn’t be enough to banish the feelings whirling inside of him. God, he loved Aurora. How could she say she didn’t love him?
“Wow,” Samantha murmured coming up behind him. “A train sure pales in comparison to a doll. That’s impressive.”
“You have to understand, Christian, that whatever happened, whatever you heard, was not your child,” Ben added.
“What the hell are you talking about? It sure looked like her,” he said bitterly.
Neither replied and Christian straightened, turning to face them. “Tell me. I want to know. Tell me what you’re talking about.”
“The Changed need our energy. Only the strongest ones, the ones that have gathered the most energy can achieve the Jump,” Ben said patiently.
“The Jump?”
Ben nodded. “They gather this energy and store it. And man, you need a ton. A ton. It takes centuries to build up.”
“The Changed that had been following you around, the one that attacked you in the street, was old,” Samantha added. “Very old.”
“It was probably ready for the Jump.”
“What the hell is the Jump?” Christian demanded, not likin
g the sound of this at all.
“Possession. They take over human bodies.”
Reviews for Laurel O’Donnell books
“This extraordinary tale offers non-stop action, unforgettable characters and a sensuous romance, the likes of which ballads are written. This romance will capture your heart and your imagination.”
- Rendezvous Magazine on The Angel and the Prince
“Captivating from the very first page, readers will have a hard time putting Champion of the Heart down. The characters emotional turmoil coupled with the sensuality and delightful cast of characters adds a special, unique depth… and elevated this to another level.”
- RT Book Reviews on Champion of the Heart
“Immortal Death is a unique and passionate tale of destined love with a suspenseful plot that captures your attention from page one and continues to intrigue until the very end.”
– J.E. Hopkins, author of “We Shall Rise” on Immortal Death
“It’s quickly become one of my favorite books and I highly recommend it to anyone looking for romance and action.”
- Sony ReaderStore review on A Knight of Honor
“Medieval readers will find The Lady and the Falconer a highly satisfying, well crafted story that fills their craving for a tale of medieval intrigue and passion.”
- Romantic Times Magazine on The Lady and the Falconer
“There’s nothing like a wonderfully written romance that includes everything from excitement and intrigue to despair and triumph. Such a novel discourages readers from putting the book down, lest we miss new adventures waiting around the next corner. Laurel O’Donnell has managed to do just that and so much more in the Midnight Shadow.”
- The Romance Reader on Midnight Shadow
“My most beloved rainy day book.”
- Amazon review on The Angel and the Prince
Cover Gallery
Below you will find the covers for all of the books written by Laurel O’Donnell that are currently available.
The Angel and the Prince
Champion of the Heart
A Knight of Honor
Midnight Shadow
The Lady and the Falconer
Immortal Death
Lost Souls: Resurrection - Episode 1
The Bride and the Brute
The Angel and the Prince
Champion of the Heart
A Knight of Honor
Midnight Shadow
The Lady and the Falconer
Immortal Death
Lost Souls: Resurrection - Episode 1
The Bride and the Brute
More about the Author
Laurel O’Donnell has won numerous awards for her works, including the Holt Medallion for A Knight of Honor, the Happily Ever After contest for The Angel’s Assassin, and the Indiana’s Golden Opportunity contest for Immortal Death. The Angel and the Prince was nominated by the Romance Writers of America for their prestigious Golden Heart award.
You can read more about Laurel and her books on the various sites listed below. You can find full sample chapters, reviews, video trailers and much more:
Website: www.laurel-odonnell.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/pages/Laurel-ODonnell/150078331715261
Twitter: twitter.com/laurelodonnell
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/laurel-odonnell
Wattpad: wattpad.com/laurelodonnell
Thanks for reading! Keep going to find some full chapter Bonus Previews!
The Angel and the Prince Bonus Preview
The Angel and the Prince - Prologue
France, 1410
The choir of voices ascended to the far corners of the cathedral, where sculptured angels listened with somber faces to the Latin words. Shining white marble pillars spiraled down to the steps of the great altar. At the top stair stood King Charles VI. Behind him stood eight small boys dressed in immaculate white robes, each holding a red velvet pillow with golden tassels at each corner. Upon every silky velvet pillow there rested a resplendent sword. Above and behind the boys, golden statues of saints stretched out their cold arms in welcome and forgiveness with unseeing eyes.
The king shifted his regal stance, his gaze locked on the tall wooden doors at the back of the church. He knew eight young men waited anxiously outside, their breath tight in their chests, their palms slick with nervous sweat. Each one would enter as a squire filled with a boy’s apprehension, and each one would leave as a knight of the realm filled with a warrior’s pride.
One of the banners caught his eye. It was for Ryen De Bouriez, the third son of Baron Jean Claude De Bouriez. King Charles scanned the mass of people before him until they came to rest on two men – the elder De Bouriez brothers. They were tall, even by knightly standards. Lucien was fair; his honeyed hair, blue eyes, and boyish looks were rumored to have cost more than one maiden her virtue. Andre was dark, with chestnut eyes and a heart of gold. Both were skilled warriors, and this pleased the king, for he knew Ryen would make an excellent addition to his troops. He studied the brothers closely. They shifted from foot to foot nervously; even Andre, who was usually so calm, seemed unsettled. The king frowned. Perhaps the two giants were uncomfortable with the civil surroundings and were eager to be out of the church. King Charles sympathized. The De Bouriezes were, after all, known for their prowess in battle, not their sociability.
The king glanced over row upon row of nobles in their elegant satins and velvets. The Countess of Burgundy was there. Not far from her, the flamboyant golden caul headdress of the Duchess of Orleans caught his eye. Slowly, his brow creased into a frown as he finished surveying the attending nobility. Where was Ryen’s father?
The choir of voices that had filled the chamber suddenly ended, their last echoes resonating throughout the cathedral until they slipped away into nothingness.
Glancing toward the trumpeters awaiting his signal in the balcony, King Charles nodded. When they put the long golden horns to their lips, the triumphant music began. All eyes turned to the heavy oak doors at the back of the church as they slowly creaked open.
Eight squires advanced down the long carpeted aisle, one behind the other.
Sunlight streamed in from the stained glass windows, reflecting brilliantly off the shining silver-and-gold plate mail of the approaching men. King Charles squinted as a ray of light shone in his eyes. He tried to be a fair man, judging all men equally, but he found himself anxious to see Ryen De Bouriez, around whom so much controversy swirled. The first time his name had reached the king’s ears, it was with the capture of Castle Picardy, the feat that had earned him his knighthood. King Charles had heard the same story three times, and with each telling Ryen’s achievements had seemed to grow until they were of Herculean proportions. Since then, the name Ryen De Bouriez had arisen time and time again in casual conversation. The man’s strategic maneuvers were ingenious.
The initiates climbed the stairs to the great altar and bowed before the king, then stepped aside to form a row before their lord. As the squire preceding De Bouriez bowed, King Charles tried not to seem obvious as he peered over the top of the man’s head to get a glimpse of Ryen. Finally, like a curtain being drawn, the squire stepped aside and Ryen De Bouriez was revealed to King Charles. The initiate still wore his helmet. All traces of astonishment disappeared as anger descended over the king. It was disrespectful for anyone to wear a helmet in the house of God. The young man’s headgear covered most of his face except for his eyes. King Charles could see the striking blueness of them; they shimmered in the shadows of his helmet like a great cloudless sky. His gaze raked the young man again. He is very small indeed, the king thought. I cannot believe the great Baron De Bouriez squired this runt. Perhaps De Bouriez is absent because he is embarrassed by his son’s size.
Under his scrutiny, the king saw Ryen’s deep blue eyes fill with pride, and something else. Before he could discern what that strange spark was, Ryen fell to one knee, bowing his head in reverence.
Somewhat pacifie
d, King Charles commanded quietly, “Remove your helmet, Ryen,” and turned to retrieve a ceremonial sword cushioned upon a pillow of velvet. As he reverently removed the sword, the king heard rustling and the clang of armor behind him and knew Ryen was removing his helmet.
Suddenly, a collective gasp spread through the crowd like the wind whistling through a field of wheat.
King Charles whirled at the sound. His eyes grew wide and he gaped as the reason for the young man’s diminutive stature became quite apparent. The “man” was not a man at all!
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