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Mistral's Kiss: A Novel

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Overview

I am Princess Meredith, heir to a throne of faerie. My day job, once upon a time, was as a private detective in Los Angeles. Unfortunately, princess has now become a full-time occupation.

My aunt, Queen Andais, will have it no other way. And so I am virtually a prisoner in faerie-trapped here with some of the realm's most beautiful men to serve as my bodyguards . . . and my lovers. For I am compelled to conceive a child: an heir to succeed me on the throne. Yet after months of amazing sex with my consorts, there is still no baby. And no baby means no throne. The only certainty is death at the hands of my cousin Cel, or his followers, if I fail to conceive.

Editorial Reviews

In bestseller Hamilton's steamy fifth in the Meredith Gentry fantasy series (after 2005's A Stroke of Midnight), the fey former Los Angeles PI has given up detecting and fully embraced her duties as Princess Meredith Nicesus, potential heir to the faerie throne. Since the extremely orgasmic princess's foremost duty is to prove her fertility in order to gain the throne, she spends most of her time bedding her immortal sidhe royal guardsmen, giving each a fair shot as her future consort. All the group sex has a profoundly transformative effect: her men are regaining their full powers, and the long-dead faerie gardens are springing to life. But when Meredith and her merry men inadvertently find themselves in the territory of King Sholto, who has been betrayed by others in the faerie court, there's deadly danger even for immortals. Lots of earth-shattering, supernatural sex and a rousing climactic battle will have Hamilton's fans panting for more. (Dec.) Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.

Author Information

Bio of Laurell K. Hamilton

Author Laurell K. Hamilton was born in Heber Springs, Arkansas on February 19, 1963. After her mother died in a car crash in 1969, she was raised by her grandmother in Sims, Indiana. She writes the Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter series and the Merry Gentry series. She currently lives in St. Louis, Missouri with her family.

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Additional Info

Imprint

Random House

Filesize

726.21 KB

Number of Pages

224

eBook ISBN

9780345495464

Excerpt from: Mistral's Kiss by Laurell K. Hamilton

Chapter 1

I dreamt of warm flesh and cookies. The sex I understood, but the cookies . . . Why cookies? Why not cake, or meat? But that's what my subconscious chose as I dreamt. We were eating in the tiny kitchen of my Los Angeles apartment-an apartment I didn't live in anymore, outside of dreams. The we were me, Princess Meredith-the only faerie royal ever born on American soil-and my royal guards, over a dozen of them.

They moved me around with skin the color of darkest night, whitest snow, the pale of newborn leaves, the brown of leaves that have gone down to die on the forest floor, a rainbow of men moving nude around the kitchen.

The real apartment kitchen would have barely held three of us, but in the dream everyone walked through that narrow space between sink and stove and cabinets as if there were all the room in the world.

We were having cookies because we'd just had sex and it was hungry work, or something like that. The men moved around me graceful and perfectly nude. Several of the men were ones I'd never seen nude. They moved with skin the color of summer sunshine, the transparent white of crystals, colors I had no name for, for the colors did not exist outside of faerie. It should have been a good dream, but it wasn't. I knew something was wrong, that feeling of unease that you get in dreams when you know that the happy sights are just a disguise, an illusion to hide the ugliness to come.

The plate of cookies was so innocent, so ordinary, but it bothered me. I tried to pay attention to the men, touching their bodies, holding them, but each of them in turn would pick up a cookie and take a bite, as if I weren't there.

Galen with his pale, pale green skin and greener eyes bit into a cookie, and something squirted out the side. Something thick and dark. The dark liquid dripped down the edge of his kissable mouth and fell onto the white countertop. That single drop splattered and spread and was red, so red, so fresh. The cookies were bleeding.