An international secret society of telepathic blood-magic angels come together to destroy what appears to be the reincarnation of Jack the Ripper.
This second novel in the Hearts of Darkness series, Track the Ripper takes NYPD detective Dianysus Brentano to London, Glastonbury and Paris as she chases a man who calls himself Jack the Ripper straight into an Internet web that aims to turn followers into killers and control the world. Her resolve to recover what he stole from her attracts allies from among the blood-drinking celestial ma’lakhim. Overwhelmed by their dangerous beauty, Dianysus sets her heart on the leader, Sitri, who has been her secret protector since childhood. But she’s unsure if he’s equally attracted to her or is exploiting her for his own purpose. Dianysus learns that the mother who’d abandoned her when she was young had been a queen among these creatures. This makes her own blood unique and gives her new skills. When she discovers that the Ripper seeks her blood to complete his conquest, she forms a risky plan. As the ma’lakhim strive to save Paris and London from mass destruction, Dianysus goes to face the Ripper alone. She must trust that her blood-bond with Sitri is true, because otherwise, all is lost.
Sitri’s left hand moved under my T-shirt to frame my right breast, with his thumb resting on my breastbone. A pulse of heat raised my nipple. I gasped and stiffened, losing the effect.
“I have you,” he assured me. “You will feel heat. Let it build.”
I leaned back against him. He pressed closer. He had to have felt my heart quicken. His warm fingertips rested on my skin, but seemed to penetrate. I put my left hand on his hip, feeling warmth under the smooth, supple leather. Against the small of my back, I felt him harden.
Good. I needed him to do this with me.
He whispered something. Logaeth, they called it. The celestial tongue. The melodic tone ignited an itch between my legs. It floated, just as he’d said. I felt it in the roots of my hair. My ears burned and a chill swept through me, raising goose bumps. I heard another male voice, distant, and then another, yet the words were not in this room. An exquisite gulp of desire shot through me. My breath came faster. I envisioned a hot embrace on the table, getting stretched and filled. I pushed it away, but it persisted. A sweet taste formed on my tongue.
Then I realized: the coffee. It was an aphrodisiac. The Oraculum had worked best when I was aroused. Those codes had surfed the waves of lust. Apparently, this was the same. His language floated. This was the communication system. Ero-telepathy. I gripped the edge of the dossier. I had to channel it.