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High Voltage (Fever Book 10) Kindle Edition
There is no action without consequence.
Dani O’Malley was nine years old when the delusional, sadistic Rowena transformed her into a ruthless killer. Years later, Dani is tough and hardened, yet achingly vulnerable and fiercely compassionate, living alone by her own exacting code. Despite the scars on her body, and driven by deeper ones carved into her soul, no one is more committed to protecting Dublin. By day she ensures the safety of those she rescues, by night she hunts evil, dispensing justice swiftly and without mercy, determined to give to those she cares for the peace she has never known.
There is no power without price.
When the Faerie Queen used the dangerously powerful Song of Making to heal the world from the damage done by the Hoar Frost King, catastrophic magic seeped deep into the earth, giving rise to horrifying, unforeseen consequences—and now deadly enemies plot in the darkness, preparing to enslave the human race and unleash an ancient reign of Hell on Earth.
There is no future without sacrifice.
With the lethal, immortal Ryodan at her side, armed with the epic Sword of Light, Dani once again battles to save the world, but her past comes back to haunt her with a vengeance, demanding an unspeakable price for the power she needs to save the human race. And no one—not even Ryodan, who would move the very stars for her—can save her this time.
Praise for High Voltage
“A romance wrapped up in a thrilling sci-fi novel—what more could you want?”—PopSugar
“If you’ve never read a Karen Marie Moning book before, you’re missing out. Her heroines alone are worth the read. . . . Despite being set in a dystopian world filled with magic and fae, the obstacles that these characters go through are very much humanlike. . . . Cannot wait to see where [she] takes this series next.”—Under the Covers
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherDell
- Publication dateMarch 6, 2018
- File size4224 KB
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Editorial Reviews
Review
“A romance wrapped up in a thrilling sci-fi novel—what more could you want?”—PopSugar
“If you’ve never read a Moning book before, you’re missing out. Her heroines alone are worth the read. . . . Despite being set in a dystopian world filled with magic and fae, the obstacles that these characters go through are very much humanlike. . . . Cannot wait to see where [she] takes this series next.”—Under the Covers
“The picture that Moning paints with her stories is so real. . . . In High Voltage, the real Dani is front and center. . . . I absolutely can’t wait to see what comes next in this explosive series.”—I Smell Sheep
Praise for the novels of Karen Marie Moning
Feversong
“Bold and brilliantly layered, deeply emotive and all-consuming, the story curves full circle as Mac and Dani try to save the world. . . . Fans of the series . . . will love every moment, every page. As one now expects from the incredibly talented [Karen Marie] Moning, gasp-inducing surprises await.”—USA Today
“Heart-pounding.”—Entertainment Weekly
“Epic.”—New Orleans Gambit
“Moning is one of the best. . . . [Feversong is] an exciting, pulse-pounding action-filled adventure that at times is dark and terrifying, and other times gloriously happy and romantic. . . . Another fantastic story.”—The Reading Cafe
“[Feversong is an] epic ending to an epic series.”—The Review Loft
Feverborn
“Moning’s world-building is extensive and inspired, and she never fails to keep the action fast and the stakes high. . . . The heroes’ shared danger, victory, loss and turmoil translate into emotional intensity and sexual tension.”—The New York Times Book Review
“Moning is back, burning up the pages with scorching tension, gasp-out-loud surprises, unshakable danger and unexpected feels. Feverborn is simply impossible to put down. . . . I’m not sure how Moning is able to do it after eight books, but each novel proves more exciting than its predecessor as she continues to raise the stakes in this ongoing, exhilarating saga. Feverborn is a fight between ancient magic and renewed determination, a duel between old wounds and deep-seated love. Once again, you won’t be able to put this book down.”—USA Today
“Feverborn is at once the most gratifying and infuriating (in the best way possible) volume in the series yet. Moning’s proclivity for passion, emotion and shocking twists is showcased in breathtaking clarity. . . . Fans of the series will be panting, both with heat, and a frenzied need to know what happens next.”—PopWrapped
“A masterpiece of epic proportions. With this book, Moning shows us exactly why she is such an indispensable writer in the genre.”—Under the Covers
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The pupil in denial; I can’t take my eyes off of you
“I smell bones!” Shazam exploded, whiskers bristling with excitement. “Bones everywhere. Thousands and thousands of them! You take me to all the best places, Yi-yi!” He slanted me an adoring look before launching himself at the earth and digging, sending tufts of grass and dirt flying.
“Stop digging,” I exclaimed. “You can’t eat those bones.”
“Can, too. Watch,” came the muffled voice.
“No, I mean, you’re not allowed to eat them,” I clarified.
He ignored me. Dirt continued to fly, mounding rapidly behind him.
“Shazam, I mean it. You promised to obey my rules. My expects,” I reminded, using his often-stilted manner of speaking, “bars on your cage.”
Head buried in the dirt, he said in a muffled voice, “That was then. This is now. Then, I didn’t have a home.”
“Shazam,” I said in the warning tone I knew he hated. But heeded.
Pudgy body wedged halfway into his hole, my Hel-Cat stiffened and inched out—exceedingly slowly and begrudgingly—and glared at me. Dirt dusted his broad nose, his silver whiskers, and clung to his long, silver-smoke ruff. He sneezed violently, licked his nose then scrubbed it with a furious paw. “But they’re bones, tiny red. They’re already dead. I’m not killing them. You said I couldn’t kill anything. You didn’t say I couldn’t eat things that were dead.” His eyes narrowed to violet slits. “You bofflescate your expects. You bofflescate my head. Who even does that?”
Bofflescate wasn’t a word I knew—he had many of those—but I intuited the meaning. “These bones are different. They matter to humans. We bury them in certain places for a reason.”
He spoke slowly and carefully, as if addressing a complete idiot. “Me, too. So they’re easy to find when I’m hungry.”
I shook my head, a smile tugging at my lips. “No. These are the bones of people we care about.” I gestured at the dark silhouettes of gravestones that stretched for acres around us. “We don’t eat them, we bury them so—”
“But nobody’s doing things with them and they’re rotting!” he wailed. Slumping on his haunches, he splayed his front paws around his pudgy white belly. “You give bones. I find bones. Same thing. One good reason why I can’t eat them,” he demanded.
I debated trying to explain human burial rituals to him, but many of our traditions defied his comprehension. A bone was a bone was a bone. Convincing him that graveyard bones carried an emotional and spiritual attachment to humans, unlike the cow or pig bones I sometimes brought him, could take all night, and leave him just as bewildered as he’d begun. And me exhausted.
I gave him the only answer that worked at a time like this. The answer I’d hated as a kid. “Because I said so.”
He rose to his full height, arched his back and hissed at me, baring sharp fangs and a long black-tipped tongue.
I returned his snarl. With Shazam, I didn’t dare yield or say “just one bone, just this time” because in his mind if a rule could be violated once, it was no longer a rule and never would be again. Unless, of course, it worked in his favor.
His eyes turned flinty.
Mine cooled to emerald ice.
He cut me a look of scathing rebuke.
I switched tactics and flayed him with an expression of reproach and disappointment.
His violet eyes widened as if I’d struck him. He shuddered dramatically, toppled over, collapsed on his back, and began to weep with great, hiccupping sobs, clutching his paws to his eyes.
I sighed. This was my best friend—the last remaining Hel-Cat in existence. Powerful, often brilliant beyond comprehension, most of the time he was a wildly emotional hot mess. I adored him. Sometimes, when he flashed like wildfire between feral and neurotic, feeling every facet of his life so intensely, I saw myself as a kid—too much to handle.
I’d been kept in a cage for most of my childhood.
I didn’t own a cage and never would.
I moved across the damp grass, sank down beside the sobbing, shaggy-pelted chimera with traits of an Iberian lynx and the supple lazy posture of a koala bear, and tugged the fifty-pound beast toward me. The moment I touched him, he howled bloody murder and began to growl, then made himself stiff, unwieldy, and mysteriously heavier. With all four legs sticking straight up in the air, sharp black claws extended, spine rigid, hoisting a hostile hyena onto my lap might have been easier.
He stopped growling long enough to snap, “Don’t touch me. Find your own dimension. You’re cramping my space.” Then he collapsed across my legs and his head lolled back. “Comb my neck, it’s tangled again,” he wailed.
I bit my lip to keep from laughing; Shazam got his feelings hurt easily in this state. Using my nails, I groomed the thick pelt of his chin, his shaggy neck, and around behind his ears until I heard a deep, contented rumble in his chest.
We sprawled in the grass in the graveyard behind Arlington Abbey, beneath a cobalt sky glittering with rose-gold stars and a full amber moon, enjoying the moment. It was the middle of March but fat-blossomed velvety poppies bobbed in nearby urns, and exotic, trellised roses adorned graves, scenting the night air with indefinable Fae fragrances. A night symphony of crickets and frogs filled the air.
Dublin’s climate had been uncharacteristically mild since the queen of the Fae used the Song of Making to heal our world last November. We’d had no winter; a long, fertile spring had morphed seamlessly into an extraordinary summer, splashed with brilliant Fae colors and new species of plants.
There’d been little peace in my life. I tended to find myself embroiled in one melodrama after the next but, aside from a broken heart that wasn’t healing on the timetable I would have preferred, life was good. I had Shazam, I had friends, I would heal and there was endless potential for new adventures once I did.
Eventually the Hel-Cat squinted a lavender eye open and peered up at me. I caught my breath. There was nothing feral or neurotic in his gaze now, only an ancient wisdom wed to remote, timeless-as-the-stars patience. I’d learned to listen carefully when he looked at me like this.
“Remains of the one who danced you into love are in the ground, Yi-yi. That’s why you don’t want me to eat the bones. Do what you came for. I will hunt only the tasty night moths.” Smirking, he added, “And I will kill as you do—with love.” He surged from my lap in a suspiciously graceful leap, given the heft of his body, and bounded into the darkness beyond the graves.
I rolled my eyes as he vanished. I’d been trained to kill at the age of nine. Before then I’d killed without training. Shortly after I rescued Shazam from Planet X, he asked how my killing was different from the killing I’d forbidden him to do, aside from me wasting food by not eating my prey. I told him that when I killed, it wasn’t with the hatred that once blazed in my heart, but with love for the world I was trying to protect. I did it only when necessary, as quickly and mercifully as possible. Killing with violence in your heart, or worse, a complete dearth of emotion, made you a killer, plain and simple. Killing because it had to be done, because there was no other way and it was the right thing to do, made you a necessary weapon.
Do what you came here for. I wasn’t sure what that was. Nothing of Dancer remained in this macabre memorial to the dead behind Arlington Abbey. I found that a terrible thought—that his essence might be trapped in a box buried beneath the dirt. When I die, cremate me and cast me to the stars.
Still, I pushed to my feet, skirted a bank of low hedges and wide planters, and moved to stand at the foot of his grave.
Time slid away; it was four months ago and I was kissing Dancer’s cold lips and closing the lid of his casket.
God, I missed him.
We’d played with the innocence and impunity of kids who believed themselves immortal (at least I had), conquering video games, watching movies, dreaming together about what our futures might hold, gorging on ice cream and candy and sodas, racing out into the night in search of adventure.
I smiled faintly. We’d found plenty. We’d plunged into life with similar enthusiasm and devil-may-care bravado. Caring, thoughtful, and brilliant, he’d been one of only two people I’ve ever met that I thought was as smart, possibly smarter, than me.
We’d grown up, become lovers.
Dancer Elias Garrick, never the sidekick, always the hero.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and stared down. I’m not a woman who often looks back. I measure actions by results, and peering into the past rarely yields any. Reflecting on something that hurts you only prolongs your pain, and when death is involved, the pain is often compounded by a relentless sense of guilt that attacks the moment you start to heal, as if duration of grief somehow proves the depth of your love for the person you lost.
If that were true, I’d have to grieve Dancer forever.
Born with a flawed heart, he’d lived fearlessly. The unfairly penalized muscle in his chest had given out on him before he’d turned eighteen, while I was sleeping next to him in bed. I’d woken after a night of lovemaking to find him forever gone.
I’d melted down. It got ugly. My friends got me through it.
Guilt had definitely led me here, but not spawned by lack of grief. A sheer abundance of it made me do something stupid last night.
I tried to erase my pain in another man’s bed. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
It hadn’t worked. The first man I’d had sex with taught me how beautiful it was.
The second man had shown me how ugly it could be.
“I miss you,” I whispered to his grave, and waited.
Shortly after he died, he spoke to me twice. I’d felt his presence, as if he was standing right there behind me, sunshine on my shoulders, reaching through the slipstream to comfort and counsel me.
A few weeks ago, however, I’d become aware that intangible warmth was gone—vanished while I slept—and I knew in my gut he’d moved on. Somehow he’d managed to linger in the ether to make sure I was all right and when he was satisfied, he’d raced off for the next grand adventure.
As he should have.
As we all should when it’s our time.
That thought didn’t make me feel any better. Thoughts rarely do. The heart has its own mind, measures its own time, and if it consults with the brain, doesn’t always heed the advice. My brain was screaming—stop hurting already. To a deaf audience.
I’d never fully grasped the meaning of the word “forever” before. I’d lost my mom long before she died. It wasn’t the same. I’d grieved her while she’d still been living.
But the idea that I would never see Dancer again was more than I could stand. All I had left of him were memories and we’d not had time to make nearly enough.
My gaze drifted to the headstone east of his marker. jo brennan. We’d laid another of my friends to rest beside him. I smiled faintly, remembering her breaking into my dungeon cell to save me. We hadn’t always gotten along but she’d been a genuine, good constant in my life and didn’t deserve to die the way she did.
alina mckenna lane. Mac’s sister was buried beside her. There’d been so much death in my life.
“All the more reason to live,” came the deep, exotically accented growl from behind me. I could hear traces of many languages in it, a consensus of none.
I bristled. Not many people can sneak up on me without my preternatural senses kicking into high alert. Ryodan defies the odds in countless, irritating ways. “Stay out of my head.”
“I wasn’t in it. Didn’t need to be. When humans stand at graves, they brood.” He was beside me then, in that sudden, silent, eerie way of his.
Humans, he’d said. Whatever Ryodan was, he wasn’t one of those and he’d stopped making any effort to conceal it from me. Whether urbane, sophisticated man or black-skinned, fanged beast, he was all the supers I was, plus an awe-inspiring, aggravating assortment of others. When I was young, I’d felt like Sarah from the movie Labyrinth, dashing around Dublin having grand adventures. Ryodan was Jareth, my Goblin King. I’d defied him at every turn, defining myself in opposition to him. I’d studied him, incorporating his ideologies and tactics into my own. Silverside I’d functioned by the code: WWRD? I’d never tell him that.
I turned and scowled up at him. Beautiful, cool, aloof man. Two things always happen to me whenever he shows up. I get an instant jolt of happiness, as if every cell in my body wakes up and is glad to see him. It pisses me off because my brain rarely agrees. Ryodan and I are enthusiastic foes, wary friends. I tell him things I don’t tell anyone else, and that offends me, too.
The second thing baffles me. I often feel like crying. I’ve wept on his flawless, crisp shirts more times than I care to remember.
“Because I understand,” he murmured, staring down at me with those glittering silver eyes. “And I can take it. I wasn’t sure about the happiness, though. Nice of you to clear that up.”
“What part of ‘stay out of my head’ didn’t you understand?”
“Your face, Dani. Everything you feel is on it. I rarely need to delve deeper.”
He’d glimpsed such raw emotion in me recently that I’d been avoiding him. As Jada, I was respected, feared. As Dani, I sometimes felt like I vied with Shazam for Hot Mess Poster Child of the Month.
I could only hope what happened last night was nowhere to be seen on my face. I’d never before experienced what an average woman with average strength contended with on a daily basis: physical vulnerability to the opposite sex. It had been humbling and horrifying and awakened a fierce compassion in me, making me even more protective of my city, especially women and children.
In bed with a stranger, my heart felt like it was going to explode. I’d tried to leave the man and that empty thing I was doing but the intensity of my emotions shorted out my sidhe-seer strength, leaving me a frighteningly normal five-foot-ten woman who weighed in at 142, in a locked room with a six-foot-four, 240-pound man.
Product details
- ASIN : B072KBX67K
- Publisher : Dell (March 6, 2018)
- Publication date : March 6, 2018
- Language : English
- File size : 4224 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
- Print length : 477 pages
- Best Sellers Rank: #71,137 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- #195 in Magic Romance
- #249 in Magic Romance eBooks
- #3,242 in Fantasy Romance eBooks
- Customer Reviews:
About the author
Karen Marie Moning is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Fever Series and the Highlander series. She is a winner of the prestigious RITA award for best paranormal romance and is a multiple RITA award nominee, and a Goodreads Reader's Choice Award winner. An alum of the Immaculate Conception Academy, she attended Purdue University where she completed a BA in Society & Law, with minors in Philosophy, Creative Writing and Theatre. Prior to becoming a full time writer, she worked in the insurance industry directing commercial litigation and intercompany arbitration. She agrees with Jorge Luis Borges that paradise must be some kind of library.
You can learn more about her at www.karenmoning.com.
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Background: Dani O’Malley has been one of my all time favorites, and when we met her at the start, she was a precocious 14 year old girl, who became Mac’s (Fever heroine) best friend, and together they fought off the enemies that haunted them all. Dani had a terrible childhood, being caged by her mother, until she escaped and became one of the youngest sidhe-seers at the abbey. Rowena was the leader of the girls in the abbey, and we learned over time, that she changed Dani into a fierce warrior, and also a killer. It pained me to see that Dani and Mac’s friendship ended when Mac found out who killed her sister. When Dani spent over 5 years in the Silvers (Fae ), she changed into Jada, a polished and grown woman, who returned to the abbey to be the powerful leader of the of sidhe-seers. Ryodan, our hero, has known forever that Dani/Jada was destined for him, but he had to wait for this young girl to grow up into a woman. In Feversong, it was great to see Dani and Mac resume their deep friendship to help bring peace in Ireland.
In High Voltage, the story revolves around Dani and Ryodan and war that is on the horizon between the Fae, Gods and humans. Dani is a very confident young woman, knowing how powerful she has become, as well as being fearless. It’s been two years since Ryodan left saying he had to go away, and would be back. She resents that he has not called or left a message in those two years. Dani finds herself in serious situations, one from a soul stealer that she manages to escape. Shortly thereafter, Ryodan returns and Dani gives him the cold shoulder. We have known for many books that Ryodan is the man for Dani, but we also knew she had to grow up. Now this is their time, and their lust for each other was hotter than hell. But Ryodan was holding back, making sure Dani was really ready for him, and had the same feelings. Moning did this perfectly, and when we get nearer to the end, we will have our wishes granted.
But first Dani must survive what is happening to her, as well as those trying to kill her. Slowly, Dani finds her body turning black, which started after she killed a hunter (dragon). She works with Kat (another regular who runs the Abbey), and the sidhe-seers to stop the villain, who is killing many people. We also get to see Christian and Sean again, one ready to fight and the other unable to control his darkness. We also got to see the Nine help Dani and Ryodan fight off attacks from the Faes.
What follows is an ultra exciting story that puts Dani and everyone in danger. But the best part of this story was the romance between Ryodan and Dani that we have waited forever. Ryodan is tough, intense and violent, but Dani makes him feel again, and his love for her was beautiful to see. Dani knows she loves Ryodan, and as she continues to gain more power, she is ready to act on her love. As her body changes each day, she becomes a dangerous tool that could help fight the enemy, but will ruin everything else by her inability to touch anyone.
I will not give spoilers, but the last third of the book, was very emotional in so many levels. …the powerful love of Dani and Ryodan; her love for her Hel-Cat Shazam was fun; and when she meet Y’Rill and learns what she has become. OMG…Karen that was so awesome. I had smiles on my face a long time after I finished the book, making me completely happy. The emotions we feel when the relationship between Dani and Ryodan finally lights up in a fiery joyful ending. Well done, Karen Marie Moning. Of course, I want more of Dani, Ryodan, Mac, Barrons and all the others.
People who were put off by the idea of Dani and Ryodan ultimately connecting romantically will likely never come back to this series and that is their prerogative. It is, however, as if they have forgotten that one of the characters is many tens of thousands of years old, and that nothing inappropriate actually happened when she was a minor. I think Ms. Moning was brilliant to create the Dancer story line. Not only was he an incredible character, he was the perfect partner for her age and experience.
"... I kissed him like he was the only man I deemed complex, brilliant, and strong enough to be worth kissing..."
This is a Dani centered book. We get insights into her background and thoughts that make this unique character even more complex. It is rare to find a fictional character this well-developed and in the process of becoming self-aware. Dani refers to herself as a gray sheep. "I've learned in recent years to bleach my coat, the better to blend. And when they aren't looking I'm as gray as I need to be." The parts about her restructuring her brain to deal with past trauma and issues she wants to avoid is brilliant.
I should include the fact that there are funny parts as well. Now in her early 20's, Dani is suddenly aware of the sexual attraction of the Nine and Ryodan in particular. "Holy distorting diode, please tell me Ryodan doesn't throw off this charge off now, too." Dani having to deal with both jealousy and being honest, at least with herself, about her feelings for Ryodan is powerful.
I imagine that some readers will be initially frustrated that Ryodan is out of the picture for the most of the first eight chapters of the book. Moning does a great job of explaining why as the story progresses and their reunion is that much more charged. While Ryodan is as powerful as ever, this is a man in love who is ready to begin a relationship with the woman he worships. KMM shows us how much Ryodan has given up for Dani, how important she is to him, and how vulnerable she makes him.
The world building continues as the plot moves forward with the battle between Fae, the old gods, and mortals. The Song of Making has had unintended consequences which impacts the story line dramatically. Because this series is so rich with details, KMM does a great job of using Christian MacKeltar to fill in details the reader might have forgotten from earlier books. Although I have read them all at least three times, I was pleased to have this woven into the story.
If you like to read reviews before buying the book, you might want to be careful with this one. KMM has done such a fabulous job of creating many plots twists and other surprises that it would be a real shame to have these revealed ahead of time. For the last quarter of the story I spent much of the time going 'Aha!' and it would be a shame to miss this experience. The planning needed to have brought all the novels to this point is astounding. If you are not sure you should buy this, download a sample and then go with your gut rather than risk any spoilers. Also, if you are new to Moning's literary world, do yourself a favor and start right at the beginning with Darkfever.
Top reviews from other countries
Personally, I think it pairs well with Feversong, because whilst FS was the culmination of various plot threads that had been established in the earlier books, it was also very much about Mac accepting the many facets of her own character.
HV expands on this idea by moving the heftier story elements to the background and delving into the forces that drive Dani. She is logical and guarded, she has been conditioned to compartmentalise her own thoughts and feelings, she has suffered abuses and loss beyond imagination, she has an exacting eye and a lust for life. She’s always been a character that I’ve viewed in contradictions. One moment she is zipping around Dublin without a care in the world, her emotions pouring out of her and the next moment she is shut off from everyone around her. After HV, I think I finally understand her and why it had to be this tenth book in the series where things clicked into place for me.
Some may think that there is a little bit of deus ex machina at play, towards the end of the book, but Dani has been through her fair share of suffering and sacrifice in order for the ending to be the exact type of ending that the book should have had.
This was a story about growing up, family, love and belonging. It was a story about grasping on to the things that you want in life, but also seeking and owning the things that you have to work hard for - the things you have to earn the right to deserve, where the pay-off is so much sweeter. And finally, it was a story about finding your match, mate, the other part of your soul and having to work on understanding and loving yourself to perfect clarity so that those two pieces could finally fit together without the fissures that were there before.
This was not the book I was expecting, but I’m so damn happy that it was the book I got.