Dreamfever: Fever Series Book 4 by Karen Marie Moning (English) Mass Market Pape

Description: Dreamfever by Karen Marie Moning "NEW YORK TIMES" BESTSELLERThey may have stolen my past, but Ill never let them take my future.When the walls between Man and Fae come crashing down, freeing the insatiable, immortal Unseelie from their icy prison, MacKayla Lane is caught in a deadly trap. Captured by the Fae Lord Master, she is left with no memory of who or what she is: the only sidhe-seer alive who can track the Sinsar Dubh, a book of arcane black magic that holds the key to controlling both worlds.Clawing her way back from oblivion is only the first step Mac must take down a perilous path, from the battle-filled streets of Dublin to the treacherous politics of an ancient, secret sect, through the tangled lies of men who claim to be her allies into the illusory world of the Fae themselves, where nothing is as it seems--and Mac is forced to face a soul-shattering truth."Who do you trust when you cant even trust yourself?"Dont miss the entire MacKayla Lane series:Book 1: "Darkfever"Book 2: "Bloodfever"Book 3: "Faefever"Book 4: "Dreamfever"Book 5: "Shadowfever " FORMAT Mass Market Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description "NEW YORK TIMES" BESTSELLERThey may have stolen my past, but Ill never let them take my future.When the walls between Man and Fae come crashing down, freeing the insatiable, immortal Unseelie from their icy prison, MacKayla Lane is caught in a deadly trap. Captured by the Fae Lord Master, she is left with no memory of who or what she is: the only sidhe-seer alive who can track the Sinsar Dubh, a book of arcane black magic that holds the key to controlling both worlds.Clawing her way back from oblivion is only the first step Mac must take down a perilous path, from the battle-filled streets of Dublin to the treacherous politics of an ancient, secret sect, through the tangled lies of men who claim to be her allies into the illusory world of the Fae themselves, where nothing is as it seemsâ"and Mac is forced to face a soul-shattering truth."Who do you trust when you cant even trust yourself?"Dont miss the entire MacKayla Lane series:Book 1: "Darkfever"Book 2: "Bloodfever"Book 3: "Faefever"Book 4: "Dreamfever"Book 5: "Shadowfever " Author Biography Karen Marie Moningis the #1New York Timesbestselling author of the Fever series, featuring MacKayla Lane, and the award-winning Highlander series. She has a bachelors degree in society and law from Purdue University. Review "Give yourself a treat and read outside the box."—Charlaine Harris, on Darkfever Promotional Who do you trust when you cant even trust yourself? Review Quote "Give yourself a treat and read outside the box."-Charlaine Harris, on Darkfever Promotional "Headline" Who do you trust when you cant even trust yourself? Excerpt from Book Prologue Mac: 11:18 a.m., November 1 D eath. Pestilence. Famine. They surround me, my lovers, the terrifying Unseelie Princes. Whodve thought destruction could be so beautiful? Seductive. Consuming. My fourth lover--War? He ministers to me tenderly. Ironic for the bringer of Chaos, creator of Calamity, maker of Madness--if that is who he is. I cannot see his face, no matter how I try. Why does he hide? He caresses my skin with hands of fire. I char, my skin blisters, bones fuse from sexual heat no human can endure. Lust consumes me. I arch my back and beg for more with parched tongue, cracked lips. As he fills my body, he quenches my thirst with drink. Liquid spills over my tongue, drips down my throat. I convulse. He moves inside me. I catch a glimpse of skin, muscle, a flash of tattoo. Still no face. He terrifies me, this one who keeps himself concealed. In the distance, someone barks commands. I hear many things, understand none. I know that I have fallen into enemy hands. I know also, soon, I will no longer know even that. Pri-ya, a Fae sex addict, I will believe there is no place, nothing else I would rather be. If my thoughts were coherent enough to form sentences, I would tell you that I used to think life unfolded in a linear fashion. That people were born and went to . . . whats that human word? I dressed up for it every day. There were boys. Lots of cute boys. I thought the world revolved around them. His tongue is in my mouth, and its tearing apart my soul. Helpmesomeonepleasehelpmemakehimstopmakethemgoaway. School. Thats the word Im looking for. After that, you get a job. Marry. Have...what are they? Fae cant have them. Dont understand them. Precious little lives. Babies! If youre lucky, you live a good, full life and grow old with someone you love. Caskets then. Wood gleams. I weep. A sister? Bad! Memory hurts! Let it go! Theyre in my womb. They want my heart. Tear it open. Gorge on passion they cant feel. Cold. How can fire be so cold? Focus, Mac. Important. Find the words. Deep breath. Dont think about whats happening to you. See. Serve. Protect. Others at risk. So many died. Cant be for nothing. Think of Dani. Shes you inside, beneath that adolescent thumbs-in-the-pockets, one hip cocked, thousand-yard stare. I orgasm without ceasing. I become the orgasm. Pleasure-pain! Exquisite! Mind-melting, soul-shredding, the more they fill me the emptier I am. Its slipping, all slipping, but before it goes, before its gone completely, I get a hateful moment of clarity and see that. Most of what I believed about myself, and life, I derived from modern media, without questioning any of it. If I wasnt sure how to behave in a certain situation, Id search my mind for a movie or TV show Id seen, with a similar setup, and do whatever the actors had done. A sponge, I absorbed my environment, became a by-product of it. I dont think I ever once looked up at the sky and wondered if there was sentient life in the universe besides the human race. I know I never looked down at the earth beneath my feet and contemplated my own mortality. I tunneled blithely through magnolia-drenched days, blind as a mole to everything but guys, fashion, power, sex, whatever would make me feel good right then. But these are confessions I would make if I could speak, and I cant. Im ashamed. Im so ashamed. Who the fuck are you? Someone shouted that question at me recently -- his name eludes me. Someone who frightens me. Excites me. Lifes not linear at all. It happens in lightning flashes. So fast you dont see those lay-you-out-cold moments coming at you until youre Wile E. Coyote, steamrolled flat as a pancake by the Road Runner, victim of your own elaborate schemes. A sister dead. A legacy of lies. An unwanted inheritance of ancient blood. An impossible mission. A book that is a beast that is ultimate power, and whoever gets their hands on it first decides the fate of the world. Maybe all the worlds. Stupid sidhe -seer. So sure you had things headed in the right direction. Here and now--not on some cartoon highway from which I can peel myself, stand up, and magically reinflate, but on the cold stone floor of a church, naked, lost, surrounded by death-by-sex Fae--I feel my most powerful weapon, the one I swore never to give up again--hope--slipping away. My spear is long gone. My will is... Will? Whats will? Do I know the word? Did I ever? Him. Hes here. The one who killed Alina. Please, please, please dont let him touch me. Is he touching me? Is he the fourth? Why conceal himself? When the walls come tumbling, tumbling down, thats the question that matters. Who are you? I reek of sex and the scent of them--dark, drugging spices. I have no sense of time or place. Theyre inside me and I cant get them out, and how could I have been such a fool to believe that at the critical moment, when my world fell apart, some knight in shining armor was going to come thundering in on a white stallion, or arrive sleek and dark on an eerily silent Harley, or appear in a flash of golden salvation, summoned by a name embedded in my tongue, and rescue me? What was I raised on--fairy tales? Not this kind. These are the fairy tales we were supposed to be teaching our daughters. A few thousand years ago, we did. But we got sloppy and complacent, and when the Old Ones seemed to go quietly, we allowed ourselves to forget the Old Ways. Enjoyed the distractions of modern technology and forgot the most important question of all. Who the fuck are you? Here on the floor, in my final moments--MacKayla Lanes last grand hurrah--I see that the answer is all Ive ever been. Im nobody. Dani: 2:58 p.m., November 1 Hey, its me--Dani. Im gonna be taking over for a while. Fecking good thing, too, cause Macs in serious trouble. We all are. Last night everything changed. End-of-the-world stuff. Uh-huh, that bad. Fae and human worlds collided with the biggest bang since creation, and everything is a mess. Fecking Shades loose in the fecking abbey. Ro through the roof with it, screaming that Mac betrayed us. Ordered us to hunt her. Bring her in dead or alive. Shut her up or shut her down, she said. Keep her away from the enemy, because shes too powerful a weapon to be used against us. Shes the only one who can track the Sinsar Dubh . No way we can let her fall into the wrong hands, and Ro says any hands but hers are the wrong ones. I know stuff about Mac that shed kill me for, if she knew I knew. Good thing she doesnt know. I never want to fight Mac. But here I am, hunting her. I dont believe she spiked the Orb with Shades. Pretty much everyone else does, though. They dont know Mac like I do. I know Mac like were sisters. No way she betrayed us. Seven hundred thirteen of us alive at the abbey at five oclock last night. Five hundred twenty-two sidhe -seers left at last count. Taking Dublin back. Hunting Mac. Kicking every bit of Fae ass we see along the way. No sign of her yet. But were headed in the right direction. Theres an epicenter of power in the city, reeking stinking nasty Fae as toxic as the fallout plume from a nuclear explosion. We all feel it. Taste it. Practically see the mushroom cloud hanging in the air. We dont even talk to one another. Dont need to. If Macs still in Dublin, thats where she is, straight ahead. No way any sidhe -seer could turn away from this kinda pull. I hope shes nailing their butts with the spear. Well fight back to back like we did a couple nights ago. But Ive got this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach... Bull-fecking-crikey! I dont feel sick. I never feel sick. Sick is for wusses and wannabes. Mac can take care of herself. Shes the strongest of us all. " Cept me," I mutter, with a swagger and a grin. "What?" Jo says behind me. I dont bother answering. They already think Im cocky enough. I have reasons to be cocky. Uh-huh, Im that good. Five hundred twenty-two of us closing in. We fight like banshees and can do some serious damage, but weve got only one weapon--the Sword of Light--that can kill a Fae. "And its mine ." I grin again. I cant help it. Fecking A, its the supercoolest gig in the world to be a superhero. Superfast, superstrong, with a few extra "supers" in me that Batman would trade all his toys for. What everybody else wishes they could do, I can. Behind me, Jo says "What?" again, but Im not grinning anymore. Im back to feeling prowly, pissed. Being fourteen--well, I almost am--blows. One minute Im on top of the world, next Im mad at everybody. Jo says Im hormonal. She says it gets better. If better means Im gonna turn into a grownup, thanks but not . Gimme a blaze of glory any day. Who wants to get old and wrinkly? If the Unseelie hadnt taken the power grids down last night, turning the whole city into a Dark Zone, Idve come after Mac sooner, but Kat made us hide like cowards til dawn. Not enough flashlights, she said. Duh, Im superfast, I said. Details ISBN0440244404 Author Karen Marie Moning Short Title DREAMFEVER Publisher Dell Publishing Company Language English ISBN-10 0440244404 ISBN-13 9780440244400 Media Book Format Mass Market Paperback DEWEY FIC Pages 512 Imprint Dell Publishing Co Inc.,U.S. Place of Publication New York Country of Publication United States Residence Cincinnati, OH, US Subtitle Fever Series Book 4 Series Number 04 UK Release Date 2010-10-26 Year 2010 Publication Date 2010-10-26 AU Release Date 2010-10-26 NZ Release Date 2010-10-26 US Release Date 2010-10-26 Illustrator Richard Scarry Birth 1969 Affiliation Assistant Professor, Department of Mechanical Engineering, NSS College of Engineering, Palakkad, India Position UN Under-Secretary General and Rector Qualifications QC Series Fever Audience General We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. 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