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Todd and her best friend, Meg, were on the small shag rug on the living room floor, grunting and going at it with wild abandon.
Todd must have felt a draft on his bare butt, for he suddenly turned, saw her, and started scrambling to his feet. “Rave … Rave … no … this … this is nothing … Rave!” he shouted as he threw his clothing on hastily.
Too late—so few letters, such small words, such large meaning. Too late.
Ravena backed up clumsily until she hit the closed door at her back. She turned then, opened the door, and with shock and hurt flooding through her veins, she ran.
Sexy immortals and powerful Fae
face a powerful foe who dabbles in time travel in
Through Time-Pursuit
~ Prologue ~
Chancemont LeBlanc
Present day
ALL AT ONCE—he was on her! The Dark Prince Pestale had the death sword across her throat, and if her brother moved another step toward her, it would only end in getting her killed.
Chancemont LeBlanc stood rigid and filled with fear for his young sibling, Lana.
And then, right before his eyes, the Dark Prince, grinning all the while, slit young sweet Lana’s throat, and she was forever lost to them.
Thunder rolled through his body then—rolled through it still. His sword vibrated in his hands, feeling his need.
He wanted blood—the Dark Prince’s blood, and he wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything else in his life.
Fury took over his despair and buried the pain of grief with the hope that he would soon have the Dark Prince in his grip and torture him before he put an end to the Dark Fae’s miserable existence. Sorrow—deep, haunting sorrow filtered through to his heart and blinded him with the all-consuming need to avenge his young sister’s death. Guilt shouted out his faults and blamed him for her death—but guilt was a waste of time. He replaced that guilt with purpose and became centered in his goals.
Find Pestale, capture Pestale, and drag him to Dravo, where he and his father could inflict pain and punishment on him before putting him out for the buzzards to feed upon.
Thoughts of his father off alone and mourning in silence made him cringe. His father would never get over this loss. He was the Milesian leader, Morgan LeBlanc, a big man that his people on Dravo relied upon.
His da—who he could have passed as his brother, so young was he in appearance—was lost to drink and self-inflicted solitude. Who could blame him?
His da, who had always been a force in Chance’s life, was broken by this final loss. And rage filled Chance as he made his plans. Milesians were an immortal race—not born that way, but created by the dust from the Fae World of Danu when that world was destroyed. The dust had come through the portal that brought the Fae to the human realm.
Now, their joint loss of Lana would hurt them through eternity.
She was the only daughter, a reminder of the great love his father had for Chance’s mother, lost so long ago. Sweet Lana, his bright-eyed baby sister who had not yet reached maturity, with her entire immortal life ahead of her—until Pestale.
Revenge? Someone once told him revenge could be sweet. He wasn’t certain that was true, but he shouted to the winds, “Revenge canna bring back her laughing eyes, or her dear voice …” His own voice trailed off, because he needed revenge, for without it—without revenge—he could not attain justice. To Chance the two walked a straight and parallel line.
His father had stopped drinking when he realized what Chance was going to do. He had grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him. “Do ye think I can lose another? Doona go, Chance …”
“Da, he must not be allowed to live.”
“Chance, me
own best hope … doona go …”
It had nearly stayed him, the distress on his father’s face, but the need to avenge his sister’s murder was greater. “I must, Da, ye know that.”
His father had sighed with acceptance and had talked to him for hours. He told him to be cool-headed in his pursuit. He said with tears in his eyes that revenge and justice were two different things.
Are they? Chance asked the sky, “Are they different? I doona have the answer to that, but I do have my immortal skills, m’magic, and my death sword. It will take all those things to find the devil, and to lay hands on him. He is a Dark Fae Prince, the eldest of his brothers—the most cunning of them all, and I will have his blood,” he vowed to the heavens and himself.
