See also my review for Bloodfever. Read 'em both in one day. Total crack. I *should* find the first-person narration of the shocked-out-of-naivete hot young thang in over her head and suddenly super-special in this strange new world of hot men doing horrible things *wildly* irritating, and yet I am charmed and endlessly refreshing my library hold status to see if the fourth one's ready for me yet.
I do wish the narrator would stop describing her own body in oddly sexualized ways. "I bent over, my cleavage spilling out of my tight top as my lithe, toned body twisted appealingly." Exaggerated, but only a bit. Also, the extensive clothing descriptions verge on giving me bad Laurell K. Hamilton flashbacks.