Twilight Illusions by Maggie shayne EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Maggie shayne
- Language: English
- Genre: Vampire Thrillers
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
It is an old story
But one that can still be told
About a man who loved
And lost….
Shannon took copious notes, swearing at the inefficiency of a penlight for
writing in the middle of a pitch-dark theater. She swore again at the narrow
arms on the seats, which were no good at all for holding a notepad.
Especially when the jerks on either side of her seemed to think they owned
exclusive rights to them. She growled a sigh, shoved the meaty arm to her
left out of the way and whispered loudly, “Hey, do you mind? I’m trying to
work here.”
Anger was good. Anger would keep her mind away from the images
burned into it. Tawny, with hair and eyes that matched her name, and a
porcelain-doll face, and a smile that lit up a room. Her dreams of becoming
a star, her overly dramatic way of expressing herself. Her fearlessness. Her
stubbornness. Shannon wanted to remember the vibrant upstart actress by
day, call girl by night, best friend forever. Not the pale, naked body
sprawled on the rumpled sheets, with its vacant-eyed stare. Not the twin
gossamer strands of scarlet meandering over her paper-white neck. God, not
that.
The guy in the next seat grumbled and shifted as far away from her as
possible. Shannon wrote, only vaguely aware of the spreading applause.
The gradual quieting. The sense of expectation in the crowd. The deep,
melodic voice of the man at center stage announcing that he would need a
volunteer from the audience. A sudden burst of movement and loudly
voiced offers from the female spectators distracted her only for a moment
before she adjusted the dim penlight and continued writing.
“The women here are practically drooling. It would be easy for him to
lure one anywhere he wanted. Still no one who can tell me where he was
last Wednesday night between…”
Her pen stopped on the pad and a cloud of frigid air seemed to envelop
her. She glanced up, toward the aisle three seats away. He stood there, a tall,
shadowy form draped in black satin. An instant later the spotlight caught up
with him, illuminating his hair, until it gleamed blue, and making his ivory
skin seem even paler. His arm was outstretched, his hand reaching toward
her. And his eyes, huge and round like an owl’s, seemingly holding the
wisdom of the gods and the pain of a thousand hells, focused on her,
keeping her prisoner.
“You, miss.”
She wished her heart would stop racing. There was still no shred of
evidence that the man was a twisted murderer. Only a matter of
circumstance and her own suspicions. “Me, what?”
His lips curved upward. His gaze fell to the notepad, the penlight and
the pen she’d been juggling all evening, then jumped back to hers again.
“What’s your name?”
“Sh-Shannon…but, I—”
“A round of applause for the lovely Shannon, our courageous
volunteer.”
He said it loudly, waving toward her with a flourish and a ripple of that
shimmering cloak. The spotlight obeyed him, instantly dousing her in a
pool of hot white brilliance that did nothing to chase away her ominous
chill. She squinted as the applause swelled. His hand closed on hers, big,
warm, hard. He pulled, none too gently.
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