Wilder The Chosen Ones

Read Wilder The Chosen Ones Storyline:

Only beloved author Christina Dodd could bring you the explosive paranormal excitement of the Chosen Ones combined with Aleksandr Wilder's story ... and redemption...As a young man, Aleksandr Wilder abandoned his duty--and for that lapse, he was tortured, tormented ... and transformed. Now he prowls the tunnels beneath the city, fighting on the frontline against the forces of hell, never daring to dream that he can live as a man again.After seven years fighting the world's ultimate evil, Chosen One Charisma Fangorn has become a tough, strong warrior without illusions or joy...even her gift of hearing the earthsong has faded. Deaf to her own instincts, she never suspects that a monster lurks in the dark underneath the streets.When Aleksandr finds Charisma under attack, he rescues and cares for her, and hope stirs once more in his heart...and in the world. But in the secret recesses of his soul, he knows the truth. A woman so exceptional could never love a beast...could she? Customers who like books by Christine Feehan and J. R. Ward will enjoy this story.ReviewA tormented hero finds hope, healing, redemption in an action-packed story that is a creative, insightful spin on Beauty and the Beast.--Library Journal.Dodd wraps up her thrilling Chosen Ones in superb fashion...packs in dangerous adventure, noble sacrifice & undying passion.-- 4 1/2* HOT!Romantic Times From the AuthorEnjoy an excerpt of WILDER! Charisma woke, nerves tingling, aware she was not alone. Daylight seeped into the cave, and she could clearly see that Guardian stood over her. But although her heart quickened, she refused to show fear, or even to feel it. "You're in my bed," he said in a neutral tone. "I didn't feel like sleeping on the ground anymore, and this is the only bed here. Big, too. And comfortable." She turned over with her back to him. "Come to bed. It's big enough for the two of us. I hope you don't snore." She waited to see what he would do. A few moments later, the covers shifted. The mattress compressed. He pulled the bed curtains shut. And he was next to her, their world reduced to the size of a mattress. What was he thinking? What was he doing? Was he perturbed with her? Was he uncomfortable? Did he think she was coming on to him? Because she wasn't. No, no, no. When she chose to sleep in his bed, her decision had been all about comfort and recuperation, and not about intimacy. She might think Guardian attractive in an odd, animalistic way, but she planned to help the man, not dance the horizontal mambo with him... His voice made her jump. "You've got my pillow." "Oh!" She pretended to be surprised. Like she didn't already know she had his pillow. The whole bed was this giant phallic symbol, with tall, smooth, polished posts on each corner and heavy purple velvet bed curtains enclosing the California king mattress. The sheets were silky-smooth, latte-colored, and she'd guess about a thousand thread count, and a dozen pillows were tossed against the tall mahogany headboard. More to the point, the whole contraption carried a faint hint of Guardian's scent. How did a man manage to smell like long, lazy days on a white sandy beach? Like blue skies and carefree memories? Like callused hands smoothing lotion over her skin? Charisma was a smart girl. She knew the scent was pure testosterone. But knowing the facts didn't make any difference, because she sought out his pillow, buried her face in it, took long, deep breaths, and fell asleep holding it crushed in her arms. Then she dreamed of him. And her. And them. Now he insinuated that he wanted his pillow back. He didn't know about her dreams. She should be grateful.