Friday, February 3, 2017
Misguided Angel by Melissa de la Cruz
Misguided Angel by Melissa de la Cruz
Melissa de la Cruzs New York Times best-selling Blue Bloods series never fails to thrill fans. Misguided Angel is the eagerly anticipated fifth book in the series, following The Van Alen Legacy.
After the death of her grandfather, half-blooded Schuyler fled to Europe with her human Conduit Oliver. But it was Jack, a Blue Bloods vampire, who ultimately won Schuylers heart. Now, with Jack by her side, Schuyler must face her destiny as the Blue Bloods last hope.
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A Sneak Peek on Misguided Angel ebook,
Blue Bloods Novel Series Book # 5
Schuyler Van Alen walked as quickly as she could up the polished brass spiral stairs leading to the upper deck. Jack Force was standing at the edge of the bow when she caught his eye. She nodded to him, shielding her eyes from the hot Mediterranean sun. Its done.
Good, he sent, and went back to setting the anchor. He was sunburned and shaggy, his skin a deep nut brown, his hair the color of flax. Her own dark hair was wild and unkempt from a month of salty sea air. She wore an old shirt of Jacks that had once been white and pristine and was now gray and ragged at the hems. They both displayed that laconic, relaxed air affected by those on perpetual vacation: a lazy, weathered aimlessness that belied their true desperation. A month was long enough.
They had to act now. They had to act today.
The muscles on Jacks arms tensed as he tugged on the rope to see if the anchor had found purchase on the ocean floor. No luck. The anchor heaved, so he released the line a few more feet. He raised a finger over his right shoulder, signaling to Schuyler to reverse the port engine. He let the rope go a little farther and tugged at it again, the stout white braids of the anchor line chafing his palm as he pul ed it toward him.
From her summers sailing on Nantucket, Schuyler knew that an ordinary man would have used a motor winch to set the seven-hundred-pound anchor, but of course Jack was far from ordinary. He pul ed harder--using almost al of his strength, and al eight tons of the Countesss yacht seemed to flex for a moment. This time the anchor held, wedged into the rocky bottom. Jack relaxed and dropped the rope, and Schuyler moved from the helm to help him twine it around the base of the winch. In the past month theyd each found quiet solace in these smal tasks. It gave them something to do while they plotted their escape.
For while Isabel e of Orleans had welcomed them to the safety of her home, Jack remembered that once upon a time, in another lifetime, Isabel e had been Lucifers beloved, Drusil a, sister-wife to the emperor Caligula. True, the Countess had been more than generous toward them: she had blessed them with every comfort--the boat, in particular, was ful y staffed and bountiful y stocked. Yet it was becoming clearer each day that the Countesss offer of protection was morphing from asylum to confinement. It was already November and they were virtual prisoners in her care, as they were never left alone, nor were they al owed to leave.
Schuyler and Jack were as far from finding the Gate of Promise as they had been when theyd left New York.
The Countess had given them everything except what they needed most: freedom. Schuyler did not believe that Isabel e, who had been a great friend to Lawrence and Cordelia, and was one of the most respected vampire dowagers of European society, was a Silver Blood traitor. But of course, given the recent events, anything seemed possible.
In any event, if the Countess was planning on keeping them prisoner for perpetuity, they couldnt afford to wait and find out.
Schuyler glanced shyly at Jack. They had been together a month now, but even though they were final y an official couple, everything felt so new--his touch, his voice, his companionship, the easy feel of his arm around her shoulder. She stood beside him against the rail, and he looped his arm around her neck, pul ing her closer so he could plant a quick kiss on the top of her head. She liked those kisses the most, found a deep contentment at the confident way he held her. They belonged to each other now.
Maybe this was what Al egra had meant, Schuyler thought, when she had told her to come home and stop fighting, stop fleeing from finding her own happiness. Maybe this was what her mother wanted her to understand.
Jack lowered his arm from her shoulder, and she fol owed his gaze to the smal rowboat "the boys" were lowering from the stern onto the choppy water below. They were a jol y duo, two Italians, Drago and Iggy (short for Ignazio), Venators in service to the Countess and, for al intents and purposes, Jack and Schuylers jailers. But Schuyler had come to like them almost as friends, and the thought of what she and Jack were about to do set her nerves on edge. She hoped the Venators would be spared from harm, but she and Jack would do what they had to. She marveled at his calm demeanor; she herself could barely keep stil , bouncing up and down on the bal s of her feet in anticipation.
She fol owed Jack to the edge of the platform.
Iggy had tethered the little boat to the yacht, and Drago reached forward to help Schuyler step down.
But Jack slipped ahead and brushed Drago aside so he could offer Schuyler his palm instead, ever the gentleman. She held his hand as she climbed over the rail and into the boat. Drago shrugged and steadied the boat as Iggy brought the last of the provisions onto the bow--several picnic baskets and backpacks fil ed with blankets and water.
Schuyler patted her bag, confirming that the Repository files with Lawrences notes were in their usual place.
Schuyler turned to look closely upon the rugged Italian coast for the first time. Ever since they had learned of Iggys affinity for the Cinque Terre, they had been advocating for this little day trip. The Cinque Terre was a strip of the Italian Riviera populated by a series of five medieval towns. Iggy, with his broad face and fat bel y, spoke longingly of running along the paths along the cliff edge before coming home to outdoor dinners overlooking sunsets above the bay.
She had never been to this part of Italy and did not know too much about it--but she understood how they could use Iggys affection for his hometown to their advantage. He had not been able to resist their suggestion to visit, and al owed them a day off of their floating prison. It was the perfect spot for what they had planned, as trails ended in ancient stairs that stretched upward for hundreds of feet. The paths would be abandoned this time of year--tourist season was over, as fal brought cold weather to the popular resort towns. The mountain trails would lead them far from the ship.
"You are going to love this place, Jack," Iggy said, rowing vigorously. "You too, signorina," he said. The Italians had a difficult time pronouncing Schuyler.
Jack grunted, pul ing on his oar, and Schuyler tried to affect a festive air. They were supposed to be getting ready for a picnic. Schuyler noticed Jack brooding, staring at the sea, preparing himself for the day ahead, and she swatted his arm playful y.
This was supposed to be a long-awaited respite from their time on the ship, a chance to spend a day exploring.
They were supposed to look like a happy couple with not a care in the world, not like two captives about to execute a prison break.
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