Hunt the Moon (Cassandra Palmer #5) by Karen Chance

 

Cassandra Palmer recently defeated a god, which you'd think would buy a girl a little time off. But it doesn't work that way when your job description is Pythia-the world's chief clairvoyant. Cassie is busier than ever, trying to learn about her power, preparing for her upcoming coronation, and figuring out her relationship with the enigmatic sexy master vampire, Mircea.

But someone doesn't want Cassie to become Pythia, and is willing to go to any lengths to make sure the coronation ceremony never happens- including attacking her mother before Cassie is even born.

My Quickie Review:

I loved this book! As always, there´s non stop action which kept me on the edge of my seat, and I couldn’t put the book down. Why, oh why did it have to end? I can’t wait until the next book in the series is released. How long do I have to wait? LOL

In Hunt the Moon, Cassie makes a lot of progress with both Mircea and Pritkin, and I can’t believe that at this stage in the game I’m still having a hard time choosing which guy is better for her. Hunt the Moon also has a lot of new revelations with Cassie’s  mother, father, and her background.

I´m still in awe with this book; it was amazing! It ended with a cliffhanger and a bit of heartbreak. Wonder how the series will all end; can’t wait until Book 6! :)

He licked the underside of the big toe, curling his tongue all the way around it, and I made a small sound. Teasing, dark eyes regarded me from over pink skin and chipped polish. “How did you manage to get barbecue sauce on your toes?”

“I didn’t,” I said indignantly.

He just laughed. “You taste good.”

I would have answered, but he’d started mouthing the mound below the toes and I forgot how. I laid my head back instead and stared at the ceiling, trying not to go completely out of my mind as he took his sweet time. Halfway through, I decided that if I survived this, I was going to kill him. It wouldn’t be easy, him being a master vamp and all, but I would find a way.

He licked a long swath up my instep and I shivered helplessly. “Are you cold?” he asked innocently.

“Mircea, seriously—”

I broke off because he’d started sucking on my heel. Which should have been no big deal, but which, for some reason, felt positively sinful. Who the hell knew that a heel could be an erogenous zone?

“Anything can be, if you never get a chance to see it,” he murmured.

“People see feet all the time.”

“Today. But they even swathed the piano legs in Victoria’s London.”

“That makes no sense at all.”

“Humans rarely do,” he told me, and bit down.

I made a sound that was absolutely not a whimper, but might have been edging that way. Because the sensation had shot straight to an area that definitely was an erogenous zone. And that had already been pretty damn stimulated.

“Mircea, I swear to God—”

“All done,” he told me, releasing my foot. I sagged in relief.

And then he grabbed the other one.

And that was it.

I let the pink, silky-skinned foot he’d left me with come to rest on that taut chest. Mircea paused what he was doing to look at me narrowly, which I took as a good sign. Getting his attention hadn’t been so hard, after all. Let’s see if I could keep it.

I let my foot caress a flat little nipple, rubbing it to a peak between my toes, and then sliding down a ridged stomach to a hard thigh. Mircea hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even moved. I smiled.

My toes slid lower, across satiny skin and crisp hair to a velvety hardness that jumped eagerly under my touch. I felt a little clumsy—I wasn’t nearly as dexterous as with my hands—but my foot was surprisingly sensitive. I hadn’t expected to feel . . . quite so much. My own breath picked up a little as I went exploring, sliding my toes slowly up and down that rigid column. And I guess I must have gotten something right, because it swelled impossibly bigger under my touch.

“That isn’t . . .” He stopped and licked his lips. “That isn’t going to work.”

I laughed. “Yeah. That was convincing.”

Particularly since Mircea could put a halt to this at any time. Unlike a human male, a vampire has perfect blood control. He could have willed all that lovely hardness away, could have refused to play. But that would have been admitting defeat, something that his stiff-necked pride, the kind he liked to pretend wasn’t there, would never permit. So I gently fondled the superb length of him, so thick, so silky soft, so good against my skin.

And sighed.

“This isn’t going to get you anywhere, either,” I was informed tightly.

“That’s okay.” I ran a single digit over the smooth head, watching it blush like a girl in pleasure. “I’m pretty comfortable where I am.”

Mircea shuddered at the implicit threat, that I could keep this up all night. But I honestly thought I could. It was fascinating, what something so simple did to him, reversing who was in charge with amazing speed. I experimented, putting a foot on his chest and giving a little push. He fell back with almost no resistance at all, allowing me to crawl up his body.

Okay, then.

“That wasn’t fair,” he said hoarsely.

“Like you didn’t use power on me earlier? And stay still.”

“Give me a reason,” he challenged, smoothing a hand over my curls.

I didn’t need to be asked twice.

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