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Heroine: Cassandra Palmer – Pythia, Trouble Magnet
Hero: John Pritkin – Mage, Half-Incubus
Hero: Mircea Basarab – Vampire, Senate Member
Tempting the Stars picks up directly where Hunt the Moon left off. Cassie has been acknowledged as Pythia, she had her coronation—in which Ares and his Spartoi demigod descendants crashed the party, and then there was that oh so long awaited (and steeped in dire consequences) kiss between Cassie and Pritkin.
A kiss that has Cassie confused, angry, lost, and, most of all, simply missing Pritkin and his scowling face and fiery green eyes. To rescue him, she'll do almost anything. Risk almost anything. And the risks, they are myriad because Cassie is a trouble magnet. She can't seem to not keep going from the frying pan into the fire. Trying to rescue Pritkin from Hell? I think that definitely qualifies as a fire.
But who can blame her? It's Pritkin! Be still my heart—even the mention of his name makes my heart pitter-patter. I can't think of another will-they-or-won’t-they couple that I want to get together so, so bad. That grumpy war mage... I adore him. Everything revealed in the last book? Only endeared me to him more. And the side of him we see in this book? If you weren’t already Team Pritkin, I think you will be. We see a more vulnerable side of him and… well, Pritkin is never vulnerable, so you can imagine what that would be like—downright irresistible.
If only Cassie could see—would recognize what those dark, all-consuming feelings inside of her, when it comes to Pritkin, are. Unfortunately, the drama and unrelenting action she goes through daily is kind of a big distraction. And there are many, many distractions in this book. Getting into Hell isn’t nearly as hard as getting out of Hell, especially when the best person to go to for help with a demon problem is currently MIA.
Tempting the Stars is a fast-paced, highly imaginative and fully realized world. It never slows down. Never drags. Never gives you a moment to relax. I did miss the Pritkin-Cassie dynamic from the previous books—the wit, the snark, the palpable sexual tension in every moment. But, if possible, there was an even deeper connection between them starting to grow. And if you thought the cliffhanger at the end of Hunt the Moon was killer—well, it’s got nothing on this one! I’m practically foaming at the mouth for the next book.
Pritkin was saying something, something I should probably be paying attention to since he was looking a little... stressed. I suppose it was due to suspicion or anger or the kind of frustrated rage I seemed to call up in him sometimes. But it didn't look that way. Or, rather, it did to my brain, which was now wide awake. But to my body...
My body cheerfully informed me that he felt really good pressed against me like that, all hard muscles and smooth contours and ominous buldges. My body liked the air of barely leashed strength and caged mayhem he was giving off. My body thought he smelled really good, like heat and coffee and electricity.
My body was going to get my killed.