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Blood and Sacrifice (Blood Ties, Book 2) by Jessica Gibson

By Jessica Gibson

Bronwyn left every little thing at the back of whilst she left with Ronan. She grew to become what he wanted her to be and forgot the remainder. Too undesirable the previous won't remain within the past.

Rider bursts again into her existence uninvited, and isn't the fellow she recollects. there's an part to him that used to be no longer there earlier than. Bronwyn is torn via guilt over what he has turn into and anger at being blamed for it.

When Ronan ended his maker’s lifestyles, he inherited a line of vampires and a complete set of difficulties to head in addition to it. Bronwyn needs to come to a decision if their love is worthwhile, definitely worth the killing, and the consistent disruption in their lives.

Is love adequate? Can Bronwyn locate herself back and strike a stability among who she desires to be and who Ronan wishes her to be? Or will she lose herself another time?

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Extra info for Blood and Sacrifice (Blood Ties, Book 2)

Sample text

And then I will destroy everything you’ve done. I will destroy everything you love. I will destroy you so completely that no one will ever defy me again. So do your best, do your worst, do nothing at all. I win no matter what. ” Azoth didn’t pay dues the next day. He hoped Rat would hit him. Just once, and he’d be off the pedestal, he’d just be another guild rat. But Rat didn’t hit him. He’d raged and swore, his eyes smiling, and told Azoth to bring double next time. Of course, he brought nothing.

His face cleared, and he smiled at Azoth. Just smiled. “Hey-ho, Jay-Oh,” Azoth said. “Hey-ho, Azo,” Jarl said, coming to join Azoth and Doll Girl. “You know, you’re about as smart as a box of hair. ” “He wanted me to be one of his girls,” Azoth said. They were propped against a wall several blocks away, sharing the stale loaf Azoth had bought. The smells of baking, though less intense this late in the day, covered at least some of the smells of sewage, rotting garbage piled on the banks of the river, and the rancid bite of the urine and brains of the tanneries.

A wetboy was like an assassin—in the way a tiger is like a kitten. Among wetboys, Durzo Blint was indisputably the best. Or, as the head of Azoth’s guild said, at least the disputes didn’t last long. And I thought Durzo Blint looked kind? The itch on Azoth’s calf itched again. It wasn’t his imagination. There was something crawling up the inside of his trousers. It felt big, but not as big as a cockroach. Azoth’s fear identified the weight: a white wolf spider. Its poison liquefied flesh in a slowly spreading circle.

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