By Marjorie M. Liu
“Readers of early Laurell ok. Hamilton, Charlaine Harris, and the simplest thrillers available in the market should still try out Liu now.”
“Anyone who loves my paintings should still love [Lui’s].”
Award-winning, New York Times bestselling writer Marjorie M. Liu’s outstanding Dirk and Steele novels are the premiere of paranormal romance fiction. Stepping in short clear of her certain detective employer of shapeshifters, psychics, and notable beings, Lui enters the harmful shadows of pink urban with A flavor of Crimson. Set in a dismal and twisted model of Los Angeles—a “City of Angels” from which the angels have lengthy considering fled—A flavor of Crimson has a gorgeous creature of the evening teaming up with an enemy, a slayer, to get to the foundation of an drawing close disaster that threatens to shatter a tentative peace among people, vampires and werewolves. a panoramic mix of sensuous romance with more advantageous city myth within the bestselling vein of Jeaniene Frost and Nalini Singh, A style of Crimson is a delightful dinner party for each paranormal fan. possibly Booklist placed it most sensible: “If you may have but so as to add Liu on your must-read record, you’re doing your self a disservice.”
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Extra info for A Taste of Crimson
Another vampire murder. Just what her people needed. And Jenkins was right—no one would care that there was no DNA evidence to link the crimes to the wolves. Mangled bodies were enough for the public. One problem: the only way a wolf could have killed those vampires without leaving any trace would be to kill with the hands only, encased in gloves. Which sounded far more calculated than an enraged wolf looking to score a kill on some vampire’s ass. Unless they really did have a serial killer on their hands.
Her bite, meaningless. ” The human beneath her trembled. She smelled urine, sour sweat. His friends were long gone. He was all she had left, and the wolf in her still wanted him dead. One bite, a breaking of his neck. He would never hurt anyone again. Never again. No one’s ever going to get hurt again. “You must calm yourself,” whispered the vampire, as though he could read her thoughts. He bent so close they brushed noses. Keeli froze. “Please. Control the wolf. ” It was the “please” that finally dulled her anger—that, and the urgency in the vampire’s voice.
The cops will be here soon. You don’t want to be involved. Not with what’s been going on…” The vampire hesitated. He glanced at Jim and the others, still hanging back, watching. “What of you? I can carry the both of us and fly—” Keeli shook her head. “I don’t run. ” The vampire’s eyes narrowed. ” “You’re a vampire,” Keeli retorted. “I already think you’re a coward. ” She wondered why the hell she was even having this conversation. Again, that odd twitch around the vampire’s mouth. “Good-bye, wolf,” he said.