By Alyxandra Harvey
It's been centuries because Isabeau St. Croix slightly survived the French Revolution. Now she's made her as far back as the dwelling and she or he needs to face the final word try out by way of confronting the evil British lord who left her for useless the day she became a vampire. That's if she will be able to keep an eye on her affection for Logan Drake, a vampire whose chew is as candy because the revenge she seeks.
The clans are collecting for Helena's royal coronation because the subsequent vampire queen, and new alliances are commencing to shape now that the previous rifts of woman Natasha's reign have began to heal. yet with a brand new universal enemy, Leander Montmarte—a vicious chief who hopes to strength Solange to marry him and usurp the ability of the throne for himself—the clans needs to stand jointly to maintain the peace he threatens to destroy.
This moment experience within the Drake Chronicles—told from either Logan's and Isabeau's perspectives—has the entire comparable butt-kicking motion, heart-pounding romances and snarky humor that readers enjoyed in Hearts at Stake, in addition to interesting new revelations concerning the vampire dynasties to maintain readers coming again for extra.
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Extra info for Blood Feud (Drake Chronicles, Book 2)
I remember being amazed that we could pull up to the same house in a completely new location. When we walked inside, everything was just the same. It was like a spaceship that could take off and then land somewhere else. 59 GENDER FAILURE Uncle Carl loved horses. He rode them until he was bowlegged. I would watch him amble around and think about how the horses had changed the shape of his legs to fit their bodies. Sometimes he would take his own horse out for us to ride. He would lift my sister and me up onto it and then lead us around slowly.
We would make jokes about it and warn each other as we passed the receiver, but I felt my uncles’ isolation and identified with it. When my brother Jack died, they were his pallbearers. They carried his coffin without crying from the church to the hearse. I looked up at them when they passed by me and hoped to be strong like them. When my schizophrenic father would fly off the handle, at least one of them would always show up to protect us. My father was scared of them and would take off as soon as one showed up in a truck.
I felt so tall on top and safe with my uncle holding the reins. Uncle Carl has worked the oil rigs for as long as I can remember. We would never know if he was going to show up at Christmas or Thanksgiving until that day. It all depended on whether his boss gave the crew the time off or not, and that depended on the price of crude oil. Sometimes he would drive twelve hours straight back from Saskatchewan to be with us. Other times he would be unreachable, working somewhere out on the flat, frozen land.