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The Darkest Kiss

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2019
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“Yes.” Maddox wrapped his arm around Ashlyn’s waist. “Torin is able to monitor the grounds on his computers and now that my death-curse is broken,” he said, hugging his woman close, “I can leave at any time to defend us or procure items we might need.”

Lucien nodded. “Good. I’ll let you know what we find.” He swiped up his bag and said over his shoulder, “Thank you for the flowers, Ashlyn.” Without another word, he flashed to the Cyclades Islands in Greece.

Silver stone walls gave way to white stucco. The home he had already purchased and furnished was open and airy, with towering white columns and gauzy white material draping the windows.

He dropped his bag and stepped to the nearest balcony, an airy terrace that looked out onto the clearest water he’d ever seen. Smooth, no waves. Not even a ripple. The sun glowed lovingly—it was already midday—and lush green bushes with bright red blooms framed the edges of the building.

Perhaps he and the other warriors should have stayed in Athens or Crete to be closer to the ancient temple they meant to search, but there was more anonymity on the islands. Fewer tourists and even fewer locals.

“The fewer the better,” he muttered.

He did not remember much of his time here, all those thousands of years ago, so he could not compare then with now. Those days had been dark, filled with screams and pain and acts so evil he didn’t want to remember them.


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