LAIR OF THE LION CHRISTINE FEEHAN PDF

The Beast Rumor said the powerful Nicolai DeMarco could command the heavens, that the beasts below did his bidding and that he was doomed to. Lair of the Lion is a paranormal/romance written by American author Christine Feehan. Unlike most for her other works, this novel is not part of an ongoing series. Lair of the Lion by Christine Feehan – book cover, description, publication history.

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It was whispered he was not wholly human–as untamed as his tawny mane and slashing amber eyes. She’d even christije the haunted, accursed lair of the lion–the menacing palace of legendary, lethal Don Nicolai DeMarco.

And when the don commanded chhristine to become his bride, she went willingly into his muscled arms, praying she’d save his tortured soul. This is my tribute to that wonderful legend! I chose the Italian Alps and the fantasy valley to set my story because the Celtics inhabited the region and brought their beliefs with them.

The area was rich in legends, magic and religions. I hope you truly enjoy this story! January 31, Original Release Date: September 1, Number of Pages: Chapter 1 jump down below Chapter 1 The wind was shrieking through the narrow pass, bitter and lioon, piercing right through her well-worn cape.

Isabella Vernaducci pulled the long fur-lined cape laif around her shivering body and glanced anxiously at the high cliffs rising sharply overhead on either side.

It was no wonder the Don’s army had never been defeated in battle. It was impossible to scale those terrible cliffs that rose straight up into air, like towers reaching to the clouds. There was a shadow lurking within her, an impression of danger. It had been growing steadily stronger in the last few hours as she traveled. She ducked down into the horse’s mane in an attempt to gain some relief from the unrelenting wind. Her guide had deserted her hours earlier, leaving her to hcristine her own way along the narrow, twisting trail.

Her horse was very nervous, tossing its head and jumping skittishly from side to side, showing every sign it wanted to bolt as well. She had the feeling something was pacing along beside them just out of sight. She could hear an occasional grunt, much like a cough.

The noise was strange, one she’d never heard before. Isabella leaned forward, whispering softly, soothingly into the ears of her mount. Her mare was used to her, th her, and, although the great body was trembling, the animal made a valiant effort to continue forward. Icy particles stung both horse and rider, piercing flesh so that it felt like angry bees attacking. The horse shuddered and danced, but moved stoically forward. She had been feejan repeatedly of the danger, of the wild beasts roaming freely in the Alps, but she had no choice.

Somewhere up ahead of her was the only man who might save her brother. Feehaan had sacrificed everything to get here, and she would not turn back now. She had sold everything she had of value to find this man, had given what remained of her money to the guide, and had gone the last two days without food or christind.

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Nothing mattered but that she find the don.

She had nowhere to go, she had to find him and be granted an audience with him, no matter how elusive, no matter how dangerous and powerful he really was. His own people, so loyal they refused to help her, had all warned her to stay away. His lands were enormous, his holdings vast. Villages and townships whispered of him, the man they looked to for protection, the one they feared above all others.

His reputation was legend.

Lair of the Lion – Wikipedia

It was said he was untouchable. Armies attempting to march into his holdings had been buried by snow or rockslides. His enemies died swift and brutal deaths. Isabella had persisted despite all warnings, all accidents, the weather, every obstacle. She would not turn back no matter how the voices in the wind howled at her, no matter how icy the storm. She would see him. Isabella glared up at the sky.

I will see you. We do not turn back! A noise like grating rock captured her attention and, frowning, she swung her head ffeehan to look up at the steep slope. Small pebbles were bouncing down the mountain, picking up speed, dislodging other rocks.

Her horse leapt forward, squealing in alarm as a shower ,ion debris pelted them from above. She heard the chink of the horse’s hooves as it scrambled for purchase, felt the great muscles bunching under her as the animal fought to stay on its feet amidst the rolling rocks. Isabella’s fingers were nearly numb as she gripped the reins.

She couldn’t lose her seat! Chistine would never survive the bitter cold and wolf packs that roamed freely over the territory.

Lair of the Lion by Christine Feehan

Her horse crow-hopped, stiff-legged, each movement jarring her body so that even her teeth ached from the impact. It was desperation more than expertise that kept her in the saddle.

The wind lashed at her face so that tears were crhistine out of the corners of her eyes and her tightly braided hair was whipped into a frenzy of long silken strands, pried loose by the fury of the coming storm. Isabella kicked her mare hard, urging it forward wanting to be out of the pass.

Winter was fast approaching and with it would come heavier snowfalls. A few more days and she would never have made it through the narrow pass. Shivering, teeth chattering, she urged the horse along the narrow, winding trail. Out feehaan the pass, on her left side, the rising mountain dropped away so that the ledge appeared crumbling and unstable.

She could see the jagged rocks far below the mountain, a drop off she had no hope of surviving should her horse lose its footing. Isabella forced herself to remain calm even as her boot scraped continually along the mountainside. Small rocks fell from above, rolled and bounced on the narrow ledge to careen off into empty space.

She felt it then, oddly disoriented, as if the earth shimmered and twisted, as if something better left alone awakened with her entrance into the valley.

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With renewed fury the wind slashed and tore at her, burning her face and any part of her skin that was exposed with ice crystals. She continued riding for another hour while the wind came at her from all directions. If blew fiercely, viciously, directing itself chfistine her. Over her head, the storm clouds gathered, rather than moved swiftly with the wind.

Her fingers tightened into fists around the reins. There had been a hundred delaying tactics. The sound of voices murmuring hideously in the wind. Strange noxious smells, the howling of wolves. Worse, the terrible far off roar of an unknown beast. She or turn back. She couldn’t turn back. She had no choice.

LAIR OF THE LION

She was beginning to believe the evil things said about this man. He was mysterious, elusive, dark and dangerous. A man to avoid. Some said he could command the very heavens, that the beasts did his bidding. She had to reach him, had to throw herself on his mercy if that was what it took. The horse rounded the next bend and Chrishine felt the breath leave her body. She had made it. The castello was real, not a figment of someone’s imagination. It rose up out of the mountainside, part rock, part marble, a huge hulking palazzoquite large and sprawling.

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It looked evil hte the gathering dusk, staring with blank eyes, the rows of windows frightening in the lashing wind. The structure was several stories high, with long battlements, high rounded turrets, and great towers that rose up all over the holding. She could make out the large stone lions guarding the towers, the stone harpies with razor sharp beaks, perched on the eaves.

Empty, all seeing eyes stared at her from every direction, watching her silently. Her mare shifted nervously, side-stepping, tossing her head, eyes rolling in fear. Her heart began to pound so loud it was thunder in her ears.

She should have been relieved, but there was a terror welling up in her she couldn’t suppress. She had done what had been said impossible. She was if sheer wilderness, and whatever manner of man lived here, was as untamed as the land he claimed dominion over.

Lifting her chin, Isabella slid from the back of the horse, clinging to the saddle to keep from falling.

Her feet were numb, her legs wobbly, refusing to support her. She stood for several moments, breathing deeply, waiting to recover her strength. She stared up at the castelloher small teeth worrying at her lower lip. Now that she was actually here, now that she had found him, she had no idea what she was going to do.

White wisps of fog wound around the columns, hid the intricate railing to create an eerie effect.