Is there a place you like to hang out? You know, after work, a place to relax, that kind of thing? Z: I spend a fair amount of time at Alchemy Red. I love me some bar fights. What about your home life? I have…friends, sort of, who I hang out with. Mostly they are people I use that term lightly—they are all supernatural with a variety of talents who are of use to me. I think I can guess. Now, what about your hobbies? Fucking Nicolette…. Indeed you did. They tend to have better social skills and fashion sense than nerds.
Your penchant for fashion is something of note in certain circles. Do you have a favorite designer?
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Z: Probably Valentino. I can appreciate that. You know, I imagine, a little about my characters through Skyla. Which one of them would you most like to hang out with? We could go to the opera. Actually, come to think of it, the universe might implode with our joined hotness. Kyle does prefer Armani, just so you know.
Exhumed (Demons of Oblivion #4) by Skyla Dawn Cameron
Once again, Zara, thank you for being here! It was a genuine pleasure to have you stop by. She makes her gorgeous appearance in Bloodlines, the first of the series. A diverse cast of characters come together in classic urban fantasy about monsters, the people who hunt them, and the occasional apocalypse. Snarky humor, magic with bite, nonstop action, a dose of romance, and at its core: broken people finding family in one another. Warning: contains heavy doses of snark, a sexually confident heroine who likes killing people and has no secret heart of gold, lots of explosions, and very naughty language.
Also, some terrible stuff happens to expensive formal wear. Lots, lots, LOTS more. And you should read it all. Orphaned as an infant and raised by an exiled branch of the church to become a warrior for God, she and her fellow members of Venatores Daemonum have trained all their lives with only one purpose: destroy all demons in the mortal realm.
But when Ryann and her team are sent to hunt down a vampire who has killed one of their own, a new world of danger, betrayal, and conspiracy greets her. Allied with an irreverent psychic detective and the very monsters she was raised to kill, Ryann will risk everything—her life, her faith, and her heart—in pursuit of the truth as the black and white existence she knew turns a murky shade of gray.
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Quarter-demon Peri Takata exists with but one goal in mind: annihilate everyone responsible for the death of her family. The fun thing when writing the Demons of Oblivion series is getting to play with that because I have alternating narrators. This made her the perfect initial antagonist in the sequel, Hunter. Hunter from the point of view of Ryann David, a demon-hunting nun who is among a team sent to kill Zara Lain after she murdered one of their own.
That duality continues, as in the third book, Lineage , I introduce Peri Takata, a rather vicious quarter-demon mercenary. As the narrator and protagonist, however, she ends up at odds with previous main characters Zara and Ryann. And when Peri and Zara inevitably get in a physical fight, it makes for some great tension for long time readers. The temperature of the room seemed to drop drastically, just me and the pissed off vamp. I tensed, shifting my weight. One on one, I could take her.
Especially with my abilities. But she was six feet away, had a gun, and at the end of the day I was the mortal one. I still had a mission. It poured like warm, slick oil through me and pushed at the air, rattling the walls and knocking Zara back. I darted forward, rushing through thick, red air, and went at her full force. Too close to shoot, she clocked me across the chin with the heavy barrel of the Desert Eagle instead; my head snapped to the side. And then she smacked the left check.
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Shouting at me. The last hit was harder than the rest, my jaw grinding uncomfortably when I moved it. A blink, shake of my head, and I recovered and dove, still not giving her any room. My hand locked in her glossy, smooth hair and slammed her face into the wall, muscles thrumming with demon energy. White drywall flakes puffed out and scattered. My eye smarted, watered, and possibly something in my face bled. The pain was lost in the pounding migraine taking over my head and adrenalin pushed me on. No, not adrenalin—hate. I screamed and grabbed her hair again, giving it a yank and a twist.
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Her heel struck my shin. But she had longer arms than me and spun, locked on my arm, and jerked me forward; I hit the wall this time. Another yank jerked my arm, pain shooting up my shoulder, and I hit the ground, sliding on the carpet. Back of my head barked the leg of the side table; I ducked under, pressed my hands to the top, and heaved it overhead. Wood splintered when the table struck her. She looked pissed.
Blue eyes glittering, hair hanging in ropes over her pale face. Red light flashed briefly over my vision, graininess twirling again. My power had come fast, sure, but it was wavering.
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Air rippled and the force knocked her off her feet, slamming her into the wall. We collided, crashed, beat against the wall just as she started to recover, and I knocked her on the floor. I sank a knee into spine, popped a shot into her kidney. Airborne in a blink, flying across the room again. I landed on the shards of broken table, splinters jabbing me.