Nightfall

Informationen zum Autor Penelope Douglas Klappentext What happens when it's five against one and nowhere to run? The games are back in the thrilling final installment in New York Times bestselling author Penelope Douglas's Devil's Night series. They call it Blackchurch. A secluded mansion in a remote, undisclosed location where the wealthy and powerful send their misbehaving sons to cool off away from prying eyes. Will Grayson has always been reckless, wild, and never been bound by a single rule other than to do exactly what he wanted. He learned long ago that being treated like an animal gives you permission to act like one. Back in high school, he might've enjoyed backing Emory into corners when no one was looking, but he could also be warm. And fierce in keeping her safe. But the truth is, he has a right to hate her. Because it's all her fault. Everything. Devil's Night. The videos. The arrests. She's to blameand yet she regrets nothing. He never expected one of his enemies to come straight to him. But now he knows she's here somewhere. And as the security detail leaves and the door to the gilded cage opens, giving Will free reign of the house and grounds for another unsupervised month, he remembers with a smile Blackchurch houses five prisoners. And he's only one of her problems. Leseprobe Chapter 1 Emory Present It was faint, but I heard it. Water. Like I was behind a waterfall, deep inside a cave. What the hell is that? I blinked my eyes, stirring from the heaviest sleep I think I've ever had. Jesus, I was tired. My head rested on the softest pillow, and I moved my arm, brushing my hand over a cool, splendidly plush white comforter. I patted my face, feeling my glasses missing. I rolled my eyes around me, confusion sinking in as I took in myself burrowed comfortably in the middle of a huge bed, my body taking up about as much room as a single M&M inside its package. This wasn't my bed. I looked around the lavish bedroom-white, gold, crystal, and mirrors everywhere, palatial in its opulence like I'd never seen in person-and my breathing turned shallow as instant fear took over. This wasn't my room. Was I dreaming? I pushed myself up, my head aching and every muscle tight like I'd been sleeping for a damn week. I dropped my eyes, spotting my glasses folded and sitting on the bedside table. I grabbed them and slipped them on, taking inventory of my body first. I laid on top of the bed, still fully clothed in my black skinny pants and a pullover white blouse that I'd dressed in this morning. If it was still today, anyway. My shoes were gone, but on instinct I peered over the side of the bed and saw my sneakers sitting there, perfectly positioned on a fancy white rug with gold filigree. My pores cooled with sweat as I looked around the unfamiliar bedroom, and my brain was wracked with what the hell was going on. Where was I? I slid off the bed, my legs shaky as I stood up. I'd been at the firm. Working on the blueprints for the DeWitt Museum. Byron and Elise had ordered takeout for lunch for themselves, I went out instead, and-I pinched the bridge of my nose, my head pounding-and then . . . Ugh, I don't know. What happened? Spotting a door ahead of me, I didn't even bother to look around the rest of the room or see where the two other doors led. I grabbed my shoes and stumbled for what I guessed was the way out, and stepped into a hallway, the cool marble floor soothing on my bare feet. I still went down the list in my head, though. I didn't drink. I didn't see anyone unusual. I didn't get any weird phone calls or packages. I didn't . . . I tried to swallow a few times, finally generating enough saliva. God, I was thirsty. And-a pang hit my stomach...

Autorentext

Penelope Douglas

Klappentext

What happens when it's five against one and nowhere to run? The games are back in the thrilling final installment in New York Times bestselling author Penelope Douglas's Devil’s Night series.…
 
They call it Blackchurch. A secluded mansion in a remote, undisclosed location where the wealthy and powerful send their misbehaving sons to cool off away from prying eyes. 
 
Will Grayson has always been reckless, wild, and never been bound by a single rule other than to do exactly what he wanted. He learned long ago that being treated like an animal gives you permission to act like one. Back in high school, he might’ve enjoyed backing Emory into corners when no one was looking, but he could also be warm. And fierce in keeping her safe. 
 
But the truth is, he has a right to hate her. Because it's all her fault. Everything. Devil’s Night. The videos. The arrests. She's to blame—and yet she regrets nothing.
 
He never expected one of his enemies to come straight to him. But now he knows she's here somewhere. And as the security detail leaves and the door to the gilded cage opens, giving Will free reign of the house and grounds for another unsupervised month, he remembers with a smile…

Blackchurch houses five prisoners. And he's only one of her problems.

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

Emory

Present

It was faint, but I heard it.

Water. Like I was behind a waterfall, deep inside a cave.

What the hell is that?

I blinked my eyes, stirring from the heaviest sleep I think I've ever had. Jesus, I was tired.

My head rested on the softest pillow, and I moved my arm, brushing my hand over a cool, splendidly plush white comforter.

I patted my face, feeling my glasses missing. I rolled my eyes around me, confusion sinking in as I took in myself burrowed comfortably in the middle of a huge bed, my body taking up about as much room as a single M&M inside its package.

This wasn't my bed.

I looked around the lavish bedroom-white, gold, crystal, and mirrors everywhere, palatial in its opulence like I'd never seen in person-and my breathing turned shallow as instant fear took over.

This wasn't my room. Was I dreaming?

I pushed myself up, my head aching and every muscle tight like I'd been sleeping for a damn week.

I dropped my eyes, spotting my glasses folded and sitting on the bedside table. I grabbed them and slipped them on, taking inventory of my body first. I laid on top of the bed, still fully clothed in my black skinny pants and a pullover white blouse that I'd dressed in this morning.

If it was still today, anyway.

My shoes were gone, but on instinct I peered over the side of the bed and saw my sneakers sitting there, perfectly positioned on a fancy white rug with gold filigree.

My pores cooled with sweat as I looked around the unfamiliar bedroom, and my brain was wracked with what the hell was going on. Where was I?

I slid off the bed, my legs shaky as I stood up.

I'd been at the firm. Working on the blueprints for the DeWitt Museum. Byron and Elise had ordered takeout for lunch for themselves, I went out instead, and-I pinched the bridge of my nose, my head pounding-and then . . .

Ugh, I don't know. What happened?

Spotting a door ahead of me, I didn't even bother to look around the rest of the room or see where the two other doors led. I grabbed my shoes and stumbled for what I guessed was the way out, and stepped into a hallway, the cool marble floor soothing on my bare feet.

I still went down the list in my head, though.

I didn't drink.

I didn't see anyone unusual.

I didn't get any weird phone calls or packages. I didn't . . .

I tried to swallow a few times, finally generating enough saliva. God, I was thirsty. And-a pang hit my stomach-hungry, too. How long had I been out?

"Hello?" I called quietly but immediately regretted it.

Unless I'd had an aneurysm or developed selective amnesia, then I wasn't here willi…