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jackie ivie's to love
July 13, 2014




Jackie Ivie's to honor
The Vampire Assassin League #22
by Jackie Ivie

Available now at:
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Takeshi Asourah is a ninja. Last member of a secret clan. Silent. Deadly. Emotionless. A lifetime of training created him. Possessing a heart is a weakness. Emotion a trap. Honor is ingrained. Strength of character most prized. Centuries of vampirism have honed him into the perfect killing machine. There is no better assassin. And then a simple assignment opens up a world of wonder with one look into her eyes...


Christine Diachenko is a corporate golden girl. She’s good. And she knows it. She’s got a big job. Big pay. Big responsibilities. She doesn’t play games. Life is too short. She delivers high dollar international shipments. Handles diplomatic relations. Knows several languages and all kinds of protocol. But none of that is worth much when she’s kidnapped. Her shipment hijacked. And nobody around to help…except a shadow.


From the first moment their gazes touch, the connection is formed. Her dragon green eyes are like jade. Clear. Deep. Hypnotic. Takeshi recognizes her. She is his mate. Her proximity has the ability to regenerate. He’s hooked. Stunned. Off-kilter. He doesn’t know what love is. How to recognize it. Act on it. He desperately needs to figure out how to handle these emotions.

…before it’s too late.



Christine called on every reserve of bravery she claimed just to turn and face whatever the cabin held. Nothing looked too menacing. There were four high-backed captain chairs grouped about a small table. They were really large chairs. Fashioned of black leather. The farthest one swiveled. That’s when her knees joined the physical response fray, turning into mush rather than necessary joints. Christine locked them in order to remain standing. A shadowy figure rose from the chair, dressed in so much black he was difficult to make out against the walls. But she knew instantly who it was. Everything on her knew.

It was the ninja.

Christine kept her eyes on his as he stepped forward, passing the table without checking for it. Light revealed black slacks. Black shirt. Black leather jacket. It was a match to his hair. She couldn’t tell length. It was pulled back into a queue. His brows and lashes were the same shade, as was the hint of whiskers along a full upper lip. Nothing about his eyes had changed. Not one iota. He was quite a bit taller than she’d guessed. Her neck arched as he stopped. Her jaw dropped. Every response she’d been experiencing got worse, while the most intense warming sensation bloomed into existence within her chest cavity. It was exactly like when he’d stopped in the bunker. Only much more distinct.

Holy crap.

The physical symptoms were impossible to deny. The view made them worse. He was definitely Asian. Exotic-looking. Well past gorgeous. Way beyond handsome. She didn’t have a description. This guy probably needed full head gear if he wanted to go out in public. Anything else would start a riot as masses trailed him. She’d never seen anyone so stunning. Masculine. Intense. He was also exuding something indefinable. Something resembling the thrill she got from watching a fright flick...the one that came at the exact moment when fear gripped limbs and froze blood. It hinted at barely-leashed strength. Deadly power. Lethal skill.


Bass tones filled the area as he bowed. Her eyes went wider. She gasped. Christine watched his jacket stretch at the shoulders to accommodate the move. She was enthralled. Overcome. Almost faint. Her voice didn’t hide one inch of it, either, as she stumbled over her greeting.


Oh. Double crap. Her knees reacted again, too, but for an entirely different reason. They took her thighs along for the ride, too. She sketched a bow on shaky legs, dipping a fraction of space lower and for a slightly longer duration. She was guessing on protocol since this scenario had never been addressed in her lessons, but he looked to be native Japanese. Male. And he was probably older.

Okay. She might be off on his age. Maybe. He could be younger than her. He didn’t have one line marring his features. Not that she wanted to study him, but he was entirely too stunning to look away from.

Her bow must have been correct. He smiled as she finished, but then his smile faded and his glance skittered away. A dark flush touched his cheeks as she watched. That reaction was interesting...and highly intriguing. He acted like nobody ever stared at him. That was patently ridiculous. He had to be used to it. She wasn’t a connoisseur of male beauty, but this was one gorgeous specimen. If she was a modeling scout, he’d be top on her list. She wasn’t hiding the awe, either. He caught the look on her face when he glanced back. And that just made his flush darker. Only this time he didn’t move his gaze away.

And neither did she.

She had it pegged now. His eyes weren’t a color. They were black – luminous, deep, and completely mesmeric.

A swell of sound surrounded her, resembling a muted chorus of voices stuck on one note. The thump of a drum got added in. It could be her heartbeat, but she’d never heard it so vivid. Hard. Full. The tempo increased as she locked gazes with him, unblinking. Rapt. The sound got amplified by an echo of something...was that her breathing? A vibration added to the mix next as engines started. And then he spoke, the bass tones of his voice overriding just about everything.

“You are well?”


“The...duct tape was not an issue for you?”


“I should have removed it. My apologies.”


“You will join me?”

He backed a step, gesturing toward the chairs while the shadow claimed him again. Christine took an exact step, following him without one conscious thought to the contrary.

“Please. Do not fear me.”

Oh. Fear was the least of her troubles. Christine’s knees gave out. She dropped. And one of the chairs caught her.



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Available now at:
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