Think you know fairy tales… guess again…
One look at Jack Wallace and Perci knows he’s going to be trouble. Even surrounded by soul stealers, he’s a one-man wrecking crew. What does he need Grimm training for? He’s already hell on earth, a warrior bent on destruction. And something…more.
He’s too strong and fast to be a mere mortal. Even covered in blood, he makes her forget she’s only here to do a job and get out. It’s twisted. Sick. She hasn’t felt this alive in three centuries.
Born with a natural talent for killing unnatural things, Jack has always known things he shouldn’t. The fact that Perci is one of them glows all over her. Giving him an unholy urge to see just how far he can push her before don’t touch me melts into touch me there.
When they come together, it isn’t careful or cautious. It’s heaven and hell, exposing all their raw and wounded places to healing heat, resurrecting memories of a destined love from the distant past. But the evil that destroyed them once before has tracked them here, threatening their second and last chance at forever. Demanding a sacrifice no one—Grimm or human—should ever be asked to make…
Bits and pieces of memory.
A knowledge he shouldn’t have.
He had looked at the things earlier and known they were no longer human.
Orin. Soul stealers. The closest thing to vampires that existed, but there was nothing about them that could be romanticized. Demonic parasites. Whatever had once been human inside them was long gone, and the mortal body wasn’t anything more than a vehicle.
Jack couldn’t even explain how he knew, but he did know, and he fought with the ease born of practice, something that made no sense. Even as he hacked away with a bowie knife, part of him felt like he’d done it before a thousand times.
For as long as he could remember, he’d dreamt of killing monsters. Demons.
And he’d known the different sort of demons too. He could recall them from vivid, vivid dreams. But the dreams never terrified him.
To Jack, it seemed normal to dream of battling demons. So many demons.
The time had come when he didn’t just battle them in his dreams, but in reality. He’d killed the first one when he was fifteen, and it had felt so easy…so natural…like a habit. It hadn’t felt like the first time. It wasn’t exactly something he’d planned on, but it was what he was meant to do—what he was built for. What he was destined for.
Always the battle…
(You can read the rest here… here)