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Thursday, April 12, 2012

Quickie Review: Embrace The Night (Cassandra Palmer #3) by Karen Chance



“Returning from Touch the Dark and Claimed by Shadow, Cassie Palmer has finally become Pythia, the supernatural community’s all-knowing oracle. She’s struggling with her new powers (such as shifting back and forth through time) and is stuck between good and evil factions of the paranormal community. Her main concern, though, is to figure out how to reverse a pesky spell that threatens her independence: the geis, once placed on her for protection, is now trying to bind her to the handsome master vampire, Mircea, with results detrimental to them both.

The only solution is to find the fabled book that has the counterspell—find it in space and time. Cassie—in her struggles between her passionate need for independence, her burgeoning feelings for Mircea and her conflicts with her new role as Pythia—is a well-rounded character, and the intensity and complexity of the plot puts her through her paces physically, emotionally and psychically.”-Publishers Weekly

My Quickie Review

I love the continued adventure of Cassie’s life. She´s still trying to save Mircea (her first vampire crush) from the geis (magical bonding spell) and her father from his imprisonment.

Now the father of John Pritkin ( The Circle’s most famous renegade mage and Cassie’s reluctant partner) is after her life, too *gasp*

A lot happens at once, featuring some serious snuggling and smut – there is not one quiet moment! *fans self*

There’s also a twist and a massive OSM (Oh Shit! Moment) with Pritkin as his background/heritage is revealed. And then there’s the Misfits – a group of children she tries to care of – who give her unexpected support in her time of need. Bet she didn´t see that coming; I sure didn´t =)


I realized that the dress was being undone, but then nails scratched lightly down the length of my back and I forgot why that was a problem. The  double heat from Mircea’s  body and the fire had caused sweat to pool between my shoulder blades, hovering on the verge of trickling down my spine.

As each ribbon pulled loose, his tongue was there, licking up the salt drops, tracing patterns on my skin. His lips brushed lightly over me, closing briefly on the individual knobs along my spine, sucking gently.

“You don’t understand. The  geis —” I stopped because a particularly hard shiver had caught me. I had the definite sensation of being on a train with  no brakes heading straight off a cliff. Mircea chuckled, which wasn’t anything like reassuring, and it was also a little alarming how fast the clothing was coming off. But then he was murmuring low, musical Romanian against my shoulder, and I understood every word down to my bones.

I felt the silk slip and start to fall as the material pulled apart. He laid me on the rug and bent over my right leg, touching his lips to the inside of my thigh. My shiver turned into goose bumps when his tongue met skin through the silk, and his teeth closed around the lace top of my stocking.

“Mircea, listen to me,” I said  quickly, to cover the stab of  arousal caused by watching him pull my stocking down with his teeth. “The  geis  went wrong. It isn’t the original spell anymore, it—”

“Is delightful,” he said, having tugged the stocking completely off.

“Now, maybe. But it gets stronger!”

Mircea had curled his hand around my other thigh, his thumb  resting on the lace edge of my remaining stocking. He started absently moving it a little bit up and down until he hit a particularly sensitive spot and paused. He stroked lightly, as if he somehow knew exactly what his touch was doing to me, while I tried to remember how to breathe.

“I look forward to it,” he whispered, before pulling me into a kiss  as slow and luxurious as cold honey.

Things became a little hazy for a few moments after that. I remember  him stripping me slowly, his expression hungry and intent and strangely tender. I remember swift fingers slowing to stroke over bare skin while he watched me with suddenly dark eyes. I remember being stretched out on the blanket with big, careful hands, and touched everywhere, while the fire muttered smokily to itself and the snow fell harder outside.

“Mircea—” I stopped because a finger painted my lips with wine,  silencing me before he kissed it away. More wine followed, running down my torso in dark red  rivulets. I inhaled a deep, stuttering breath as he started licking a trail downward.

He brushed over a nipple, sucking gently as I shivered, tracing pattern s on my skin with his tongue. Every touch of his lips, every breath, caused pleasure to run like wildfire along my nerves.  I guess I finally know how he takes his wine, I thought hazily, before he suddenly thrust into my navel and I lost all thought.

Wine dribbled down my stomach, over my hips, down my thighs.  He looked up, eyes gleaming with more than just candlelight, as he stroked over the center of me. My whole body tightened with longing for what I’d never gotten to have, what  I’d never stopped wanting. I shuddered and pushed back against the fingertips when they passed over me again, and the hand withdrew.

I stared down the length of my body at him, aching, uncomprehending, until one finger returned, coated with wine, and slowly pressed inside. Tension leapt in my muscles at the intrusion, even though I’d wanted it, but the instinctive tightening of my body couldn’t stop the slow, deliberate penetration. Then it withdrew and a warm  tongue replaced it, chasing the wine, tasting it, tasting me, as his thumbs traced restless little circles on my hips.

I was the one to break eye contact first, molten heat flooding out reason, my head dropping back to the rug even as I arched upward. His tongue talked softly to me, some unknown language of the body. But it seemed that part of me understood, part of me was pretty close to fluent, because ripple after ripple of pleasure spilled through me. He teased me by flicking his tongue just a little too slowly until I whimpered helplessly.

The darkened windows reflected the impossible sight of that proud head bowed over me, that clever tongue pleasuring me. I closed my eyes and breathed through it, desperately; almost too much sensation. He had begun with a gentle touch, but  it quickly grew more assured, more demanding, until his hands tightened on my hips, jerking me  nearer in an almost greedy way. And I guess my body must have been talking to him, too, because somehow he knew the pace I wanted, knew exactly the touch I craved. Pleasure slid up and down my  spine like hot wax until it gave up and melted entirely.

Without being asked, I shifted my legs farther apart for his touch. And the geis  instantly rewarded me: the feeling I had whenever I resisted,  like my chest had been caught in a vise, suddenly eased. I took what felt like my first full breath in days. And it terrified me.

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