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Shadowfever: Fever Series Book 5
 
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Shadowfever: Fever Series Book 5 [Format Kindle]

Karen Marie Moning
4.7 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (20 commentaires client)

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Descriptions du produit

Extrait

Hope strengthens. Fear kills.

Someone really smart told me that once.

Every time I think I’m getting wiser, more in control of my actions, I go slamming into a situation that makes me excruciatingly aware that all I’ve succeeded in doing is swapping one set of delusions for a more elaborate, attractive set of delusions—that’s me, the Queen of Self-Deception.

I hate myself right now. More than I’d ever have thought pos- sible.

I squat on the cliff’s edge, screaming, cursing the day I was born, wishing my biological mother had drowned me at birth. Life is too hard, too much to handle. Nobody told me there’d be days like these. How could nobody tell me there’d be days like these? How could they let me grow up like that—happy and pink and stupid?

The pain I feel is worse than anything the Sinsar Dubh has ever done to me. At least when the Book is crushing me, I know it’s not my own fault.

This moment?

Mea culpa. Beginning to end, all the way, I own this one, and there will never be any hiding from that fact.

I thought I’d lost everything.

How ignorant I was. He warned me. I had so much more to lose!

I want to die.

It’s the only way to stop the pain.

Months ago, on a hellishly long night, in a grotto beneath the Burren, I wanted to die, too, but it wasn’t the same. Mallucé was going to torture me to death, and dying was the only chance I had of denying him that twisted pleasure. My death had been inevitable. I saw little point in drawing it out.

I’d been wrong. I’d given up hope and nearly died because of it.

I would have died—if not for Jericho Barrons.

He’s the one who taught me those words.

That simple adage is master of every situation, every choice. Each morning we wake up, we get to choose between hope and fear and apply one of those emotions to everything we do. Do we greet the things that come our way with joy? Or suspicion?

Hope strengthens . . .

Not once did I permit myself to feel any hope about the person lying facedown in a pool of blood. Not once did I use it to strengthen our bond. I let the onus of our relationship rest on broader shoulders. Fear. Suspicion. Mistrust drove my every action.

And now it’s too late to take any of it back.

I stop screaming and begin to laugh. I hear the madness in it.

I don’t care.

My spear sticks up, a cruel javelin, mocking me. I remember stealing it.

For a moment, I’m back in the dark, rain-slicked Dublin streets, descending into the sewer systems with Barrons, breaking into Rocky O’Bannion’s private cache of religious artifacts. Barrons is wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. Muscles ripple in his body as he casts aside the sewer lid with the ease of a man tossing a Frisbee in the park.

He’s disturbingly sexual, to men and women alike, in a way that sets your teeth on edge. With Barrons, you aren’t sure if you’re going to get fucked or turned inside out and left a new, unrecognizable person, adrift with no moorings, on a sea with no bottom and no rules.

I was never immune to him. There were merely degrees of denial.

My respite is too brief. The memory vanishes and I am again con- fronted with the reality that threatens to shatter my hold on sanity.

Fear kills . . .

Literally.

I can’t say it. I can’t think it. I can’t begin to absorb it.

I hug my knees and rock.

Jericho Barrons is dead.

He lies on his stomach, motionless. He hasn’t moved or breathed in the small eternity that I’ve been screaming. I can’t sense him in his skin. On all other occasions, I’ve been able to feel him in my vicinity: electric, larger than life, vastness crammed into a tiny container. Genie in a bottle. That’s Barrons: deadly power, stopper corking it. Barely.

I rock back and forth.

The million-dollar question: What are you, Barrons? His answer, on those rare occasions he gave one, was always the same.

The one that will never let you die.

I believed him. Damn him.

“Well, you screwed up, Barrons. I’m alone and I’m in serious trouble, so get up!”

He doesn’t move. There’s too much blood. I reach out with my sidhe-seer senses. I sense nothing on the cliff’s edge but me.

I scream.

No wonder he told me never to call the number on my cell that he had programmed as IYD—If You’re Dying—unless I really was. After a time I begin to laugh again. He’s not the one who screwed up. I am. Was I played or did I orchestrate this fiasco all by myself?

I thought Barrons was invincible.

I keep waiting for him to move. Roll over. Sit up. Magically heal. Cut me one of those hard looks and say, Get a grip, Ms. Lane. I’m the Unseelie King. I can’t die.

That was one of my biggest fears, whenever I was indulging in any of a thousand about him: that he was the one who’d created the Sinsar Dubh to begin with, dumping all his evil into it, and he wanted it back for some reason but couldn’t trap it himself. At one point or another, I’d considered everything: Fae, half Fae, werewolf, vampire, ancient cursed being from the dawn of time, perhaps the very thing he and Christian had tried to summon on Halloween at Castle Keltar—key part there being immortal, as in unkillable.

“Get up, Barrons!” I scream. “Move, damn you!”

I’m afraid to touch him. Afraid if I do, his body will be cooling noticeably. I’ll feel the fragility of his flesh, the mortality of Barrons. “Fragility,” “mortality,” and “Barrons” all packed together in the same thought feels about as blasphemous as stalking through the Vatican hammering upside-down crosses on the walls.

I squat ten paces from his body.

I stay back, because if I get close I’ll have to roll him over and look in his eyes, and what if they’re empty like Alina’s were?

Then I’ll know he’s gone, like I knew she was gone, too far beyond my reach to ever hear my voice again, to hear me say, I’m sorry, Alina, I wish I’d called more often; I wish I’d heard the truth beneath our vapid sister talk; I wish I’d come to Dublin and fought beside you, or raged at you, because you were acting from fear, too, Alina, not hope at all, or you would have trusted me to help you. Or maybe just apologize, Barrons, for being too young to have my priorities refined, like you, because I haven’t suffered whatever the hell it is you suffered, and then shove you up against a wall and kiss you until you can’t breathe, do what I wanted to do the first day I saw you there in your bloody damned bookstore. Disturb you like you disturbed me, make you see me, make you want me—pink me!—shatter your self-control, bring you crashing to your knees in front of me, even though I told myself I’d never want a man like you, that you were too old, too carnal, more animal than man, with one foot in the swamp and no desire to come all the way out, when the truth was that I was terrified by what you made me feel. It wasn’t what guys make girls feel, dreams of a future with babies and picket fences, but frantic, hard, raw loss of self, like you can’t live without that man inside you, around you, with you all the time, and it only matters what he thinks of you, the rest of the world can go to hell, and even then I knew you could change me! Who wants to be around someone that can change them? Too much power to let another person have! It was easier to fight you than admit that I had undiscovered places inside me that hungered for things that weren’t accepted in any kind of world I knew, and the worst of it is that you woke me up from my Barbie-girl world and now I’m here and I’m wide awake, you bastard, I couldn’t be more awake, and you left me—

I think I’ll scream until he gets up.

He was the one who told me not to believe anything was dead until I’d burned it, poked around in its ashes, then waited a day or two to see if anything rose from them.

Surely I’m not supposed to burn him.

I don’t think there are any circumstances under which I could do that.

I’ll squat.

I’ll scream.

He’ll get up. He hates it when I’m melodramatic.

While I wait for him to revive, I listen for sounds of scrabbling at the cliff’s edge. I half-expect Ryodan to drag his broken, bloody body up over the edge. Maybe he’s not really dead, either. After all, we’re in Faery, maybe, or at least within the Silvers—who knows what realm this is? Might the water here have rejuvenating powers? Should I try to get Barrons to it? Maybe we’re in the Dreaming and this terrible thing that has happened is a nightmare, and I’ll wake up on a couch in Barrons Books and Baubles and the illustrious, infuriating owner will raise a brow and give me that look; I’ll say something pithy, and life will be lovely, chock-full of monsters and rain again, just the way I like it.

I squat.

No scrabbling in the stones and shale.

The man with the spear in his back doesn’t move.

My heart is full of holes.

He gave his life for me. Barrons gave his life for me. My self-serving, arrogant, constant jackass was the constant rock beneath my feet, willing to die so I could live.

Why the hell would he do that?

How do I live with that?

A terrible thought occurs to me, so awful that for a few moments it eclipses my grief: I would never have killed him if Ryodan hadn’t appeared. Did Ryodan set me up? Did he come here to kill Barrons, who was never invincible, merely difficult to kill? Maybe Barrons could be killed only in his animal form, and Ryodan knew he’d have to be in it to protect me. Was this an elaborate ruse that had nothing to do with me? Was Ryodan working with the LM, and they wanted Barrons out of the way so I’d be easier to deal with, and the abduction of my parents was mere sleight of hand? Look over there while we kill the man who threatens us all. Or maybe Barrons had been cursed to live out some hellish sentence and could be slain only by someone he trusted, and he’d trusted me. Beneath all the cold arrogance, the mockery, the constant pushing, had he given over that most private part of himself to me—a confidence I’d never earned, as I couldn’t have proven any more surely than if I’d stabbed him in the back?

Oh, gee, wait, I did. On Ryodan’s word alone, I’d turned on him.

The accusation of betrayal in the beast’s gaze hadn’t been an illusion. It had been Jericho Barrons in there, staring at me from behind that prehistoric brow, baring his fangs, reproach and hatred blazing in his feral yellow eyes. I’d broken our unspoken pact. He’d been my guardian demon and I’d killed him.

Had he despised me for not seeing through the hide of the beast he’d worn to the man within?

See me. How many times had he said that to me? See me when you look at me!

When it mattered most, I’d been blind. He’d been dogging my every step, treating me with that characteristic Barrons’ combination of aggression and animal possessiveness, and I’d never once recognized him.

I’d failed him.

He’d come to me in a barbaric, inhuman form, to keep me alive. He’d set himself up as IYD regardless of what it might cost him, knowing he would be turned into a mindless, raging beast capable only of slaughtering everything in his immediate vicinity but for one thing.

Me.

God, that look!

I cover my face with my hands, but the image won’t go away: beast and Barrons, his dark skin and exotic face, its slate hide and primal features. Those ancient eyes that saw so much and asked only to be seen in return burn with scorn: Couldn’t you have trusted me just once? Couldn’t you have hoped for the best, just once? Why did you choose Ryodan over me? I was keeping you alive. I had a plan. Did I ever let you down?

“I didn’t know it was you!” I gouge my palms with my nails. They bleed for a brief moment, then heal.

But the beast/Barrons in my mind isn’t done torturing me. You should have. I took your sweater. I smelled you and granted you passage. I killed fresh, tender meat for you. I pissed around you. I showed you in this form, as in any other, that you are mine—and I take care of what is mine.

Tears blind me. I double over. It hurts so bad I can’t breathe, can’t move. I hunch over, curl in on myself, and rock.


From the Hardcover edition.

Présentation de l'éditeur

#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER

“Evil is a completely different creature, Mac. Evil is bad that believes it’s good.”

 
MacKayla Lane was just a child when she and her sister, Alina, were given up for adoption and banished from Ireland forever. 

Twenty years later, Alina is dead and Mac has returned to the country that expelled them to hunt her sister’s murderer. But after discovering that she descends from a bloodline both gifted and cursed, Mac is plunged into a secret history: an ancient conflict between humans and immortals who have lived concealed among us for thousands of years. 

What follows is a shocking chain of events with devastating consequences, and now Mac struggles to cope with grief while continuing her mission to acquire and control the Sinsar Dubh—a book of dark, forbidden magic scribed by the mythical Unseelie King, containing the power to create and destroy worlds. 

In an epic battle between humans and Fae, the hunter becomes the hunted when the Sinsar Dubh turns on Mac and begins mowing a deadly path through those she loves. 
Who can she turn to? Who can she trust? Who is the woman haunting her dreams? More important, who is Mac herself and what is the destiny she glimpses in the black and crimson designs of an ancient tarot card? 
 
From the luxury of the Lord Master’s penthouse to the sordid depths of an Unseelie nightclub, from the erotic bed of her lover to the terrifying bed of the Unseelie King, Mac’s journey will force her to face the truth of her exile, and to make a choice that will either save the world . . . or destroy it.

BONUS: This edition contains a deleted scene from Shadowfever and an excerpt from Karen Marie Moning's Iced.

Détails sur le produit

  • Format : Format Kindle
  • Taille du fichier : 4007 KB
  • Nombre de pages de l'édition imprimée : 689 pages
  • Editeur : Delacorte Press (18 janvier 2011)
  • Vendu par : Amazon Media EU S.à r.l.
  • Langue : Anglais
  • ASIN: B003EY7IRC
  • Synthèse vocale : Activée
  • X-Ray :
  • Moyenne des commentaires client : 4.7 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (20 commentaires client)
  • Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon: n°35.268 dans la Boutique Kindle (Voir le Top 100 dans la Boutique Kindle)
  •  Souhaitez-vous faire modifier les images ?


En savoir plus sur l'auteur

Karen Marie Moning est une écrivaine américaine née en 1964. Elle est l'auteur de best-sellers internationaux qui figurent dans les listes des meilleures ventes du New York Times, du USA Today et du Publisher Weekly. Ses romans ont remporté de nombreux prix, dont le prestigieux RITA Award. Ses séries les plus célèbres, comme Les chroniques de MacKaya Lane et Les Highlanders sont parus aux éditions J'ai lu.

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Commentaires client les plus utiles
10 internautes sur 10 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 La fin qu'il fallait. 18 mars 2011
Format:Relié|Achat vérifié
Voilà le dernier tome que l'on attendait tome.
Et jusqu'à la fin, Karen-Marie Moning nous a menés par le bout du nez !
Un livre à l'image des quatre autres : vif, émouvant, amoureux, dur, surprenant et parfois drôle.
Un panel d'émotions jusqu'à la fin.
Une fin qui est celle qui fallait.
Qui n'en dit ni trop, ni pas assez...
Pour une série inoubliable.

Je ne peux que recommander ces 5 tomes à ceux qui ne les ont pas encore lus.
Parce qu'en plus d'une histoire folle, la plume de l'auteure est de qualité.

awesome !
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24 internautes sur 26 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Dernier tome des chroniques de MacKayla Lane! 20 janvier 2011
Par Julie TOP 500 COMMENTATEURS
Format:Relié
KMM nous aura fait attendre! Mais après l'avoir lu, on ne peut que lui pardonner. On tourne les 600 pages (200 de plus que le tome 4) sans pouvoir s'arrêter!
L'histoire reprend exactement là où elle s'était arrêtée. Mac va donc découvrir l'identité de la bête. D'abord annéantie, rongée par le remords de l'avoir tué, son chagrin va finalement la forcer à avancer. Elle va aller trouver Darroc dans le but de mettre la main le Sinsar Dubh et de l'utiliser pour rebâtir son monde en ramenant ceux qu'elle a perdu à la vie.
Ces 150 premières pages sont empreintes de tristesse. Mac est perdue entre sa douleur, sa nouvelle alliance avec l'ancien amant de sa soeur et sa culpabilité.
Mais ça ne va pas durer! Ce n'est que la 1ère partie et le livre en contient 5.
La grande question de ce roman est l'identité de Mac. Elle veut comprendre qui elle est. Pourquoi le Sinsar Dubh a un tel effet sur elle? Quelles sont ces prophéties faites des années avant sa naissance? Qui est vraiment sa mère? Pourquoi rêve-t-elle d'une femme dont elle a les souvenirs? On va en apprendre beaucoup sur le Roi Unseelie et la concubine.
De nouveaux acteurs font leur apparition pour notre plus grand bonheur: le clan Keltar en entier(^^), une petite intervention d'Adam Black, quelques nouveaux Seelies...
On retrouve Dani avec plaisir, bien que ses relations avec Mac s'approfondissent et se complexifient.
En plus du mystère sur l'identité de Mac, il restait tellement d'interrogations que j'avais peur d'être frustrée à la fin. Qui est le Roi Unseelie? Qui a tué et est responsable de la mort d'Alina? Retrouvera-t-elle Christian?
Lire la suite ›
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5 internautes sur 5 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Juste énorme 13 février 2011
Par clau38
Format:Relié
Depuis le premier livre j'ai adoré cette série, j'en pouvais plus d'attendre la traduction française alors j'ai acheté celui en anglais. Il est juste énorme, franchement c'est encore mieux que ce à quoi je m'attendais, dommage que ce soit le dernier des aventures de Mac... J'espère que le "THE END... FOR NOW" est vrai est qu'il y en aura d'autres pas la suite.
Je l'ai dévoré en trois jours, juste déçu de l'avoir lu si vite.

Pour ceux qui ne peuvent pas attendre comme moi les traductions française, franchement prenait le je ne parle pas couramment anglais, mais l'auteur à une écriture assez facile à lire, au début j'avais un peu peur de ne rien comprendre mais en faite il ce lit très facilement.
Et j'ai largement préféré le lire en anglais, en comparant avec les versions française des premiers livres, c'est carrément mieux en anglais, les expressions, leur langages sont différent (ce qui est logique, mais le lire tel que l'auteur l'a écrit et pas traduis c'est plus prenant...)

Enfin bref, j'ai tout adoré le déroulement de l'histoire qui est imprévisible on ne s'attend pas forcément à tout les choix et actions de Mac !!
Fantastique !!!!!
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10 internautes sur 11 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Palpitant 29 janvier 2011
Par Lady Lama TOP 500 COMMENTATEURS
Format:Relié
Mon commentaire sera bref (pour une fois!), il y a déjà deux excellents avis rédigés sur le site, pas la peine de se répéter!

Le cinquième et dernier tome de la série "Fever" est à couper le souffle, tout comme les précédents tomes, et je pense que la série marquera durablement le genre romance-fantasy. J'ai attendu d'avoir un weekend disponible pour le lire, et bien m'en a pris, je n'arrivais pas à m'arrêter de lire, et je ne pensais qu'à une chose en me réveillant, continuer à lire pour le finir. C'est rare d'être dans un tel état de dépendance!

Petit rappel: la série "Fever" se situe en Irlande et dépeint une héroine, Mac, qui de Barbie américaine pathétique va se transformer en héroine luttant contre l'anéantissement du monde par des pouvoirs surnaturels menaçants. Contrairement aux romances traditionnelles, la majeure partie des cinq tomes n'est qu'une tragédie. Près d'un milliard d'humains disparaissent, la nature n'est plus, l'héroine subit un traumatisme majeur que l'auteur ose raconter de bout en bout, et chaque personnage possède des zones d'ombre très fortes.

Malgré ce lourd climat, on ne fait pas que trembler et pleurer, on espère, on rit parfois (surtout durant les prises de bec entre Mac et Barrons, l'homme de sa vie) et on se pose beaucoup de questions, car l'auteur réussit à maintenir du mystère et des retournements de situation jusqu'au bout.
Lire la suite ›
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5.0 étoiles sur 5 Une conclusion très satisfaisante à cette partie du...
Attention, présence de spoilers, signaler par les balises [spoiler][/spoiler]
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Publié il y a 7 mois par Poison
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Wow, what a ride...
Wow, what a ride.
This series was amazing. Mac's evolution was so incredible to follow, and the most important thing is that I loved them all - from pink Mac 1. Lire la suite
Publié il y a 13 mois par Natalie
5.0 étoiles sur 5 AMAZING!!!
Shadowfever was AMAZING!!!

I still had a lot of questions in the beginning of this book and I'm glad most of them finally got answered in Shadowfever. Lire la suite
Publié il y a 22 mois par LF
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Le rideau se lève... Les masques tombent...
On a refermé "Dreamfever" sur un suspense insoutenable... On ouvre "Shadowfever" en tremblant... Et puis, c'est le choc. Lire la suite
Publié le 14 juillet 2012 par créamag
5.0 étoiles sur 5 traduction
A quand la traduction en francais, moi je suis encore sur la fin du 4 ème tome en plein suspense.
Quelqu'un est au courant????
Publié le 6 novembre 2011 par Melle Elodie Malherbe
4.0 étoiles sur 5 intéressant mélange de mythologie celte et de fantasy...
La fin de la série Darkfever.
Les personnages et leurs mondes sont innovants et MacKayla Lane est l'un des caractère les plus intéressant de K.M. Lire la suite
Publié le 4 juillet 2011 par LIANA
4.0 étoiles sur 5 inattendu
Les 4 premiers tomes étaient sympas, le final est excellent. Lu en version originale alors que j'avais lu les 4 autres tomes en français, force est de reconnaître que cela a... Lire la suite
Publié le 4 juillet 2011 par sammy
4.0 étoiles sur 5 les couleuvres sont au menu?
A lire par ceux dont la patience n'est pas le fort. Ceux qui ne veulent rien découvrir de l'intrigue, passez votre chemin!!

Réaction à chaud... Lire la suite
Publié le 9 juin 2011 par alex
4.0 étoiles sur 5 Satisfying ending
I found this to be a satisfying closing to the plot set out in the earlier 4(!) novels. The romance with JZB was gratifying, but not entirely in character with how we've come to... Lire la suite
Publié le 6 juin 2011 par susan traveler
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Juste TROP BIEN!!!!
Ce livre est trop bien écrit, l'histoire est passionnante du début à la fin, avec plein de rebondissements. Lire la suite
Publié le 18 mai 2011 par kgwlad
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