Genre: Adult Fiction (Paranormal Romance)
Date Published: November 26, 2013
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
A man she'd die for, a world she was born to defend... Only one can survive.
For twenty-five years, Adrian has mourned the loss of his soul mate, Angie. He's content to live as an outcast...until a series of abductions forces him out of seclusion and into the arms of the very woman he loved and lost. Angie's reincarnation, Emma.
Emma is on the run, hunted by soulless creatures whose one goal is to possess her soul. They have taken everything: her home, her identity, her mother. Left with no other choice, she must trust her fate to Adrian, the enigmatic stranger who comes to her rescue. An immortal being whose illicit touch makes her blood burn and awakens an inexplicable desire in her heart.
Emma follows Adrian to his isolated community in Arizona, where she is assailed by visions of a past life. As passion ignites and her enemies close in, Emma is drawn into a world where nothing is what it seems and where love could prove the greatest weakness of all.
Warning: Contains a dark, tortured hero, a hunted woman who can't remember loving him, a nasty villain hell-bent on destroying the world, and a timeless love story you won't soon forget.
Soul Chase is book three in the Dark Souls series by Anne Hope. Adrian is still my favorite. Emma shows more growth as a character than any other character in this series so far. She really came a long way, I thought. She had to though. There was so much about her world and herself that she didn't know a thing about. At this point in the series, there's not much more I can say about the plot without accidentally giving away spoilers so, I'm going to shush. Anne Hope has Romantic Suspense down to an art which keeps my attention completely. I love how this series builds on itself. It's definitely a series you have to read from the beginning. While reading each book, I'll start to think we're getting closer and closer to a conclusion and then something else happens or is revealed to bring on a whole new level of obstacles to overcome. I can't wait for more!
Soul Chase by Anne Hope was kindly provided to me by Bewitching Book Tours for review. The
opinions are my own.
Check out my reviews from the other books in the Dark Souls Series!!
opinions are my own.
The wind howled, and a branch whipped at the window. Emma shot up in bed, wrapping her arms around her legs. She flung a reassuring glance at the switchblade by her bed. A blade she’d coated with blood and placed on her nightstand, within easy reach should she need it.
Holding her breath, she waited for the familiar sound of glass shattering. But all she heard was the sigh of the wind and the gentle rasp of shoes scraping the pavement. It was probably one of the other motel guests, but Emma had been on the run long enough not to discount a potential threat. All her instincts went on red alert.
She grabbed the switchblade, flipped it open and slid across the wall toward the door. It was nearly dawn, and fog drenched the budding day. Drab gray light trickled through the window, peeling back the shadows.
There were only two points of entry to the room she occupied—the window and the door. Emma stood between the two, gripping the pitiful blade, trying to calm her racing heart. She couldn’t move, couldn’t so much as breathe. If she did, they’d hear her.
She closed her eyes, mauled her lower lip and waited. Branches tapped at the window again, and her stomach folded.
Just the wind.
A bird serenaded the imminent break of day, then grew suspiciously silent. Nature had a way of going mute whenever a predator drew near. Emma’s fingers tightened around the switchblade. Her lungs began to burn, and she had no choice but to inhale.
She hated this. Hated the clench of fear that gripped her, the dreadful anticipation coursing through her veins, the sense of helplessness that inevitably followed each attack.
What would it feel like to know peace, if only for a day?
The doorknob jiggled, and her muscles turned to stone.
Here we go again.
There was a time when weeks—even months—had elapsed between incidents. In the past year, however, the attacks had escalated.
The lock clicked, and the door swung open. Emma’s palms grew damp around the handle of the knife.
Come on. What are you waiting for? Show yourself, you bastard.
Just as she was about to burst out of her skin, a man’s elongated shadow spilled through the open doorway. Then he was standing in her motel room, his wide back turned to her, his dark head angled in concentration. Hatred saturated her bloodstream, fueled by pain and anger.
He was one of them.
She sensed the darkness inside him, the emptiness. No soul beat in his chest. Emma was sure of it.
With a sharp intake of breath, she gave in to the fury and pounced. The man sensed her and turned, skillfully deflecting her blow and sending her stumbling backward. Raising the switchblade, she launched herself at him again.
She wanted to hurt him, badly. She wanted him to pay for all the years his kind had stolen from her, for all the sleepless nights she’d endured, for all the worry and pain she’d suffered these past few hours. But above all, she wanted to punish him for being the inhuman creature he was.
His iron grip closed around her wrist, prying the blade from her fingers as he immobilized her against the wall. His hard body pressed into hers, a living barrier boxing her in, knocking the very air from her lungs.
Emma struggled, striking his broad chest with her fists, knowing she was no match for him but unwilling to surrender yet. She growled like a cornered animal, raising her leg and attempting to knee him in the groin. Anticipating her move, he took a step back, and Emma missed her target.
“Take it easy.” He wedged his forearm over her sternum, nailing her to the wall again. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
“Don’t lie to me.” She exhaled in short, quick puffs. “I know what you are.”
Her assertion surprised him, and his hold on her slackened. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she dropped to her knees and scrambled to retrieve the switchblade he’d wrestled from her grasp. Her fingers brushed metal just as he flung her around on her back and flattened her wrists against the grimy carpet.
“If you didn’t come here to hurt me,” she challenged, “what the hell do you want?”
“To help you.”
Dawn slowly swept in, and soft, pink light spilled from the window to illuminate his face. Emma’s lungs squeezed in surprise. He looked like an angel—a dark angel, with an angular jaw, sharp, chiseled features and eyes as blue as the midnight sea. Tousled black hair brushed his forehead and curtained one of his brows. His sensual lips hovered a few inches above hers, and she could feel the heat emanating from them…from him.
For a moment she lost the ability to form a coherent thought. He was beautiful, hard and defined, a Greek sculpture pinning her to the ground. His muscular leg was slung across hers, his fingers encircling her wrists like a pair of steel shackles.
She couldn’t stand feeling trapped, even if a dark angel was doing the trapping. “If you want to help me, let me go.”
He hesitated, his gaze capturing hers. Confusion pinched his brows as he studied her face. Then he did something so unexpected, so tender and intimate, Emma’s next breath snagged in her throat.
He reached up and caressed her cheek. Shock and affection gleamed in his navy-blue eyes, roughening his voice. “Angie?”
Holding her breath, she waited for the familiar sound of glass shattering. But all she heard was the sigh of the wind and the gentle rasp of shoes scraping the pavement. It was probably one of the other motel guests, but Emma had been on the run long enough not to discount a potential threat. All her instincts went on red alert.
She grabbed the switchblade, flipped it open and slid across the wall toward the door. It was nearly dawn, and fog drenched the budding day. Drab gray light trickled through the window, peeling back the shadows.
There were only two points of entry to the room she occupied—the window and the door. Emma stood between the two, gripping the pitiful blade, trying to calm her racing heart. She couldn’t move, couldn’t so much as breathe. If she did, they’d hear her.
She closed her eyes, mauled her lower lip and waited. Branches tapped at the window again, and her stomach folded.
Just the wind.
A bird serenaded the imminent break of day, then grew suspiciously silent. Nature had a way of going mute whenever a predator drew near. Emma’s fingers tightened around the switchblade. Her lungs began to burn, and she had no choice but to inhale.
She hated this. Hated the clench of fear that gripped her, the dreadful anticipation coursing through her veins, the sense of helplessness that inevitably followed each attack.
What would it feel like to know peace, if only for a day?
The doorknob jiggled, and her muscles turned to stone.
Here we go again.
There was a time when weeks—even months—had elapsed between incidents. In the past year, however, the attacks had escalated.
The lock clicked, and the door swung open. Emma’s palms grew damp around the handle of the knife.
Come on. What are you waiting for? Show yourself, you bastard.
Just as she was about to burst out of her skin, a man’s elongated shadow spilled through the open doorway. Then he was standing in her motel room, his wide back turned to her, his dark head angled in concentration. Hatred saturated her bloodstream, fueled by pain and anger.
He was one of them.
She sensed the darkness inside him, the emptiness. No soul beat in his chest. Emma was sure of it.
With a sharp intake of breath, she gave in to the fury and pounced. The man sensed her and turned, skillfully deflecting her blow and sending her stumbling backward. Raising the switchblade, she launched herself at him again.
She wanted to hurt him, badly. She wanted him to pay for all the years his kind had stolen from her, for all the sleepless nights she’d endured, for all the worry and pain she’d suffered these past few hours. But above all, she wanted to punish him for being the inhuman creature he was.
His iron grip closed around her wrist, prying the blade from her fingers as he immobilized her against the wall. His hard body pressed into hers, a living barrier boxing her in, knocking the very air from her lungs.
Emma struggled, striking his broad chest with her fists, knowing she was no match for him but unwilling to surrender yet. She growled like a cornered animal, raising her leg and attempting to knee him in the groin. Anticipating her move, he took a step back, and Emma missed her target.
“Take it easy.” He wedged his forearm over her sternum, nailing her to the wall again. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
“Don’t lie to me.” She exhaled in short, quick puffs. “I know what you are.”
Her assertion surprised him, and his hold on her slackened. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she dropped to her knees and scrambled to retrieve the switchblade he’d wrestled from her grasp. Her fingers brushed metal just as he flung her around on her back and flattened her wrists against the grimy carpet.
“If you didn’t come here to hurt me,” she challenged, “what the hell do you want?”
“To help you.”
Dawn slowly swept in, and soft, pink light spilled from the window to illuminate his face. Emma’s lungs squeezed in surprise. He looked like an angel—a dark angel, with an angular jaw, sharp, chiseled features and eyes as blue as the midnight sea. Tousled black hair brushed his forehead and curtained one of his brows. His sensual lips hovered a few inches above hers, and she could feel the heat emanating from them…from him.
For a moment she lost the ability to form a coherent thought. He was beautiful, hard and defined, a Greek sculpture pinning her to the ground. His muscular leg was slung across hers, his fingers encircling her wrists like a pair of steel shackles.
She couldn’t stand feeling trapped, even if a dark angel was doing the trapping. “If you want to help me, let me go.”
He hesitated, his gaze capturing hers. Confusion pinched his brows as he studied her face. Then he did something so unexpected, so tender and intimate, Emma’s next breath snagged in her throat.
He reached up and caressed her cheek. Shock and affection gleamed in his navy-blue eyes, roughening his voice. “Angie?”
Check out my reviews from the other books in the Dark Souls Series!!
Anne Hope is the author of emotionally intense romances with a twist—a twist of humor, a twist of suspense, a twist of magic. All her stories, however, have a common thread. Whether they make you laugh or cry or push you to the edge of your seat, they all feature the redeeming power of love and the heart’s incredible ability to heal.
Anne’s passion for writing began at the age of eight. After penning countless stories about enchanted houses, alien girls with supernatural powers, and children constantly getting lost in the woods, she decided to try her hand at romance. She lives in Montreal, Canada with her husband, her two inexhaustible kids, her cat and a rambunctious Australian Kelpie. Check out a guest post by Anne Hope!
Thank you for taking the time to review my Dark Souls series. I'm glad you enjoyed it!
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