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FLESH AND BLOOD An Ellora’s Cave Publication, February 2005 Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
1337 Commerce Drive, #13 Stow, OH 44224 ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-4199-0137-0 Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned): Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML FLESH AND BLOOD © 2005 ELISA ADAMS ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously. Edited by Martha Punches . Cover art by Syneca . Warning: The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. Flesh and Blood has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers. Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme). S- ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination. E- rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words
such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature. X- treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart. FLESH AND BLOOD Elisa Adams Prologue He stood deep in the shadows, hidden from the view of any who might walk into the room. The muted strains of classical music from the ballroom below reached him through the half-open door, mixing with the hollow ticking of the clock on the desk a few feet away. The den smelled of leather and books, with the remnants of burned wood from the fireplace hanging in the air. There wouldn’t have been a fire inside the brick enclosure in at least a few days, given the warm spell that had hit at the beginning of the week, but his senses—honed to perfection over more than a thousand years of existence—perceived the slightest disturbance in the atmosphere. He glanced at his watch, not needing light to see that both hands pointed to twelve. Midnight. The witching hour. He nearly laughed at the irony. The party would be breaking up soon. What would all the people in the grand ballroom, dressed in formalwear as stuffy and unimaginative as their personalities, think if they knew what kind of a creature walked among them tonight? More than half of them would run away in fear. They had no reason to fear him.

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