Description
The Shape of Things Duet – Mychael Black
The Shape of Things and Repertoire in one book! Join the usurped vampire prince Devon Hart and his shapeshifting lover Vincent Sheridan as they strive to forge an unlikely alliance between vampires and shapeshifters in a war-torn world.
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EXCERPT:
The Shape of Things
Devon rolled over and groaned when the room didn’t stop moving after he did. He gripped his head and forced himself to open his eyes. He stared up at the dark stone ceiling and fought to suppress the last of Ty’s blood when it threatened to come back up.
“Ah, yer ‘wake.”
He turned his head and peered through his fingers as they lay splayed over his face. A man sat on a stool beside the door and gave Devon a toothless grin. Devon closed his eyes again.
“Where am I?”
“Not ‘sposed t’ say,” the man ground out. Devon swallowed another rising bit of blood at the diseased-riddled answer. He didn’t want to see what else the man was missing in addition to his teeth.
“Well, can you tell me how long I’ve been here?” He winced and swallowed hard as his question was answered by a hacking, wet-sounding cough.
“‘Bout two ‘ours.” The man finished his cough and spit. Devon nearly lost his battle with the rest of Ty’s blood when the product of the cough landed on the stone floor with a sickening, wet smack.
A few minutes later, the locks on the door slid open and the door creaked and groaned. Devon wasn’t sure if he wanted to open his eyes at that point. When he did, he was grateful it wasn’t the old man.
“You’re to come with me,” a young woman said to him. He sat up and braced himself to give the room a chance to stop spinning. “Sorry about your head, but we aren’t stupid enough to drag you here when you’re conscious.” He nodded, despite the fact that she didn’t sound the least bit apologetic.
“Sure. Whatever.” He stood and waved his hand forward. “After you.”
“Oh, no,” she countered. She pushed him forward and he felt the unmistakable sensation of a steel point in his back. “After you.”
The woman led him at knife-point down a series of hallways, lit only by the occasional fluorescent light on the ceiling. He had no idea where he was, but from the moisture in the air, he knew they had to be underground. When the woman gripped his shoulder tightly, Devon stopped. They stood before a closed door. The woman entered a series of keystrokes on a computer panel and the door slid open. Devon blinked at the rude light pouring into the dimly-lit hall.
“Go.” The woman pressed the knife into his ribcage.
“Jesus,” he hissed. “I’m going.” He turned when the knife left him and watched as the door closed between them. Then he turned back to the empty room. A single camera was positioned in one corner near the ceiling and a flat screen monitor hung on the wall opposite the door.
“Sit down, please, Prince Hart.”
Devon gritted his teeth; he knew that voice. He sat down in the only chair in the room and faced the monitor. An image flickered on the screen and he gazed into the dark eyes of General Sterling.
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