Читать книгу Daughter of the Flames - Nancy Holder - Страница 2

But she did. And there he was, silhouetted by flames.

The smiling man’s features were sharp, and a large, purple scar ran diagonally from the right side of his jaw to his left temple. His gaze shifted to a point behind her. He bared his teeth like an animal.

Izzy turned.

Within the arched curves of a medieval monastery, a figure scanned the horizon. It was another man, very tall, with a riot of hair that tumbled down his shoulders, like her own….

Then a voice rumbled like thunder, shaking her spine with a low, masculine timbre.

“Isabella? Je suis Jean-Marc de Devereaux des Ombres. Je vous cherche. Attendez-moi. Je vous cherche.”

This time Izzy woke slowly, clutching the sheets as she whispered to the darkness, “Oui. Je suis ici. ” “Yes, I am here,” in French.

Only, she didn’t speak French.