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Luca's Magic Embrace

Immortals of New Orleans - 2

By

Kym Grosso

For the love of my life, Keith.

You inspire me to write romance that speaks to true love,  and of course, sexy love scenes that steam up the pages.

No one could ask for a more supportive husband.

I am so lucky to be your wife and partner.

Acknowledgments

I am very thankful to those who helped me create this book:

~My husband, for encouraging me to write, editing my articles and supporting me in everything I do. Also for listening to me read the love scenes out loud to him, which he thinks are the best parts of the book. Ooh la la. Keith definitely provides me with ideas on how to make them even better.

~ Tyler and Madison, for being so patient with me, while I spend time working on the book. You are the best kids ever!

~Mom & Dad, for giving me a loving family and guiding me along my way. Dad is my biggest supporter and I am so grateful. My brother Kevyn, who is the very best sibling a sister, could have.

~Julie Roberts, editor, who spent hours reading, editing and proofreading Luca’s Magic Embrace. I really could not have done this without you!

~My beta readers, Sandra and Diantha, for volunteering to read novel and provide me with valuable and honest feedback.

~Carrie Spencer, CheekyCovers, who helped me to create a sexy novel cover and my new website.

CHAPTER ONE

Naked. Bound. Luca strained his wrists and ankles upward, seeking a release from the silver cuffs and chains that burned his flesh deeper with every movement. The sound of sizzling skin echoed in the room with the slightest movement. Luca lay imprisoned flat on a stone altar, his battered body racked with pain. His arms were spread to each side, the chains on his wrists wound around the hard pedestal legs. His feet were tightly bound together, effectively immobilizing him.

Where the fuck am I?  Scanning his surroundings, Luca realized he was in an abandoned building, a Catholic church.

He could see the Stations of the Cross painted on the faded, chipped walls. Streams of light shone through a broken, stained glass window. The church smelled of mold, urine and blood. His blood. Used surgical syringes littered the floor. A rubber band was loosely tied to his arm. Because there were no marks on his arm, he reasoned he must have healed himself. Shit. Someone had been syphoning his blood.

The last thing he remembered, he had been escorting the witches to their coven. An attack, a blinding silver spray flashed in his mind. Luca couldn’t remember how long he’d been unconscious. Weak, so weak. It took everything he had to wriggle his arms. The silver burned and drained his energy as uncontrollable thirst enveloped his thoughts.

He screamed into the desolate cathedral, hoping someone would hear him. “Help me!” No answer. His eyes burned with fury, knowing it was unlikely help would come. How long had he been shackled without blood? Would his captors return to torture him? In his diminished state, he was surprised that they hadn’t staked him. Why was he still alive and not dead? Crying out in agony, he was again met with silence. It was useless.