Richelle Mead [PDF] [EPUB] Shadow Kiss is a vampire novel written by Richelle Mead. It is the third novel in the Vampire Academy series, and. Common KnowledgeSeriesBloodlines - Richelle Mead The Complete Richelle Mead's Bloodlines Series Books (Bloodlines, The Golden Lily, The Indigo. CHAPTER 1 ADRIAN I WON'T LIE. Walking into a room and seeing your girlfriend reading a baby-name book can kind of make your heart stop. “I'm no expert,” I.
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RICHELLE MEAD is the #1 New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of the Vampire Academy series and its spin-off series. Richelle Mead - Vampire Academy 1 - Vampire Academy (v). Read more Richelle Mead - Georgia Kincaid 1 - Succubus Blues. Read more. mead as pdf for free at vampire academy a graphic novel vampire academy the . graphic novel 1 richelle mead pdf file for free preparing the books to read.
I figured someone like you would know more than me. Top bar: What are you going to do with Olive? Trina, that was it. I knew these fears eating at me were being amped up by spirit.
She texted back: This is me rolling my eyes. To which I replied: I love you too. I think it was just a subtle shift in her hand gone wrong. Whatever it was, the block slipped from her grasp and fell hard—slamming her hand between it and the brick-covered ground below. I grabbed the block and lifted it, but as I did, I knew it was a little too late. And in those split seconds of chaos, I acted. It was her right hand, and breaking it was going to put her out of commission with painting for the rest of the semester.
She could do intricate, delicate things with watercolors that I could only dream of. No way could I endanger that. I sent a burst of spirit into her hand, drawing from my own life energy to mend the bones. I fixed my eyes and sent out a burst of compulsion. This is a pretty traumatic and confusing experience for you. With the tingling gone from her mind, Rowena cradled the afflicted hand as our classmates came running over.
I mean, it aches. I knew there was no permanent damage but had to play along because it was the reasonable thing to do. But after an examination and X-rays, the doctor simply shrugged. They discharged her, and as we were leaving, her girlfriend, Cassie, showed up. Rowena was pretty, but Cassie was a knockout. She flung her arms around Rowena, and I shook my head ruefully. M y wit and charm are always on. The world was full of life and light, and I practically floated on air when I walked inside.
How could spirit be a bad thing when it made me feel like this? I felt glorious. I felt more alive than I had in days. I picked a random record from one of the boxes. Pink Floyd. Nope, not in my current mood. I swapped it out for the Beatles and then threw myself into my self-portrait with a renewed vigor. Or rather, portraits. M y mind was abuzz with ideas, and it was impossible to pick just one. Color flew fast and furious onto the canvas as I experimented with different concepts. One was an abstract of my aura, the way Sonya and Lissa always said it looked.
Another was more accurate, as realistic as I could manage from a picture on my cell phone, save that I painted myself in reds and blues. On it went.
And bit by bit, the energy began to fade. M y brush slowed down, and at last, I sank onto the couch, feeling drained and exhausted. I stared around at my handiwork, five different paintings, all drying. A muffin with Rowena? I was getting as bad as Sydney. I put a pizza in the microwave, and as I watched it cook, my mind began to spin with thoughts of a different nature.
How could I have forgotten it? I had the date burned into my mind, February 5. It was the logistics of getting her a gift that had eluded me.
Sydney had been right about how foolish the purchase was. What could I have bought for her instead? I imagined a dozen roses showing up at her dorm anonymously. M aybe two dozen. Or even three.
Equally appealing was the thought of a diamond tennis bracelet on her slim wrist. Something subtle and classy, of course. I ignored the microwave beeping that it was finished and trotted off to my bedroom.
The cuff links were still sitting out, a dazzling array of red and white fire that glittered in the overhead light. Not just allowance or my car payments. I could get her a present. The roses, the bracelet, a romantic dinner. No dinner, nothing in public.
Could we have one? What kind of relationship was this, grasping at these stolen moments? She was too reasonable to do this forever. Let me go. I put the cuff links back in their box, knowing I could never sell them and that I was in the full throes of a spirit crash.
It happened with these bouts of magic. The toll of wielding so much life was just too great, and the mind crashed from the high. Well, mine did. Hers was more of a steady darkness that lingered with her for a few days, keeping her moody and melancholy until it lifted.
Sonya had a mix of both effects. My little brooding artist, Aunt Tatiana used to say with a chuckle when I got in these moods. I could almost hear her voice now, almost see her standing there beside me. With a shaking breath, I closed my eyes and willed the image away. Shadow-kissed people could actually see the dead. Crazy people only imagined them. I ate my pizza standing at the counter, telling myself over and over that this mood would pass. I knew it would. It always did. But oh, how the waiting sucked.
When I finished, I returned to the living room and stared at the paintings. What had seemed wonderful and inspired now seemed shallow and stupid. They embarrassed me. Then I hit the liquor cabinet. I smiled when I saw Sydney. I was adrift on the buzz of tequila, which had effectively muted spirit and taken the edge off that terrible, terrible low.
She smiled back and then, in one sharp glance, assessed the situation. The smile vanished. I held up the bottle. I, uh, kind of forgot about him. M aude sent a message by way of M s.
Terwilliger asking if someone was going to come for him. Totally slipped my mind. Too late, I realized what she was doing. She opened the window and dumped the rest of the bottle outside.
I sat up with a jolt. That look drew me up short. It was. Self-medicating is. Also, I sometimes check up on your bottles. You made a big dent in this one tonight —much more than a social drink. It was difficult staying on track with the story because I kept wanting to meander and make excuses. I left out the part about despairing over birthday gifts. When I finally finished, Sydney gently rested her hand on my cheek. I rested my hand over hers. Well—not quite as bad.
But there she was. She needed me, and I could help—then when she noticed, I had to make sure she forgot. What else was I supposed to do?
Should I have let her break her hand? Not knowing what to do. Have you ever thought about. Kind of. But she missed the magic, and so she stopped the pills. She also stopped because she needed the magic back to help Rose.
What if I needed it back? What if it was you who was hurt or dying? You take your chances. Have faith that I can do this on my own. The kiss managed to be both tender and intense, and it reinforced that connection between us, that burning sense I always had that she was made for me, and I was made for her.
I showered her with kisses, wishing I could do a lot more than that. Conservative clothing. No drinking. It had never come up between us. That earlier look of disappointment in her eyes still haunted me. She smiled and stood on her tiptoes to kiss me goodbye.
I drove to Amberwood with blurred vision and wet cheeks, feeling more useless than I had in a long time. Spirit made its users do crazy things. They hurt themselves. They killed themselves. That was what scared me, and I wanted to control the situation before it controlled us. It made my heart ache, thinking of that burning kindness within him that so few ever saw. The only thing I could do was be there for him and encourage him to draw upon the strength I knew he possessed. There had to be healthier ways to survive, and I believed without a doubt that he had the self-control and willpower to enact them.
I just wished he believed that as well. Honestly, how hard was it for people to park between the lines? M y M azda was still shiny and new, and I feared dents and dings.
Adrian told me I was one step away from being a suburban mom in a minivan. I felt back in control when I woke the next morning, particularly because I had a task at hand. Terwilliger, good to her word as usual, had made midday arrangements for me to visit Inez, the witch that the other Stelle had regarded with a mix of both amusement and nervousness.
As far as Zoe was concerned, I was going off on a research trip to a university library in San Diego. She stood in front of our mirror, brushing her long brown hair into a ponytail. Adrian had made it for me, sort of as a joke, but it had become one of my most prized possessions. This is my only interesting class. In court? I opted for a black pencil skirt and long- sleeved white shirt covered in black dots.
A small wooden cross with morning glories painted on it, courtesy of Adrian, was my only accessory. Zoe frowned. I had to sit right next to Jill. I started laughing. Do you remember when M om worked on that Jaguar at our house? That was a cool car. I used to sneak into the garage at night and sit in it. I thought I was being stealthy, but I think M om knew the whole time. Was there a chance the custody hearing might work out amicably? And was there a chance that Zoe might ever come around to thinking of M oroi and dhampirs as real people?
Until this moment, seeing these glimmers of the sister I remembered and loved, it had never occurred to me that it might be possible to sway her thinking —on a lot of issues. Was there a way that I might actually be able to influence her? It was more than I dared hope, and I knew better than to tip my hand too soon, lest it ruin this unguarded moment. I simply filed it away for later and put on my poker face.
Terwilliger picked me up in her red Volkswagen Beetle soon thereafter, wearing sunglasses with leopard-print frames. After five minutes on the road, she pulled off at a coffee shop.
Holding out this long was making my hands twitch. He grinned at us and sauntered toward the car.
Terwilliger said. In fact, it might throw her off a little, which would be to our advantage. Thank you, dear. He slid into the backseat and handed me my cup. A flutter of emotions stirred inside my chest. How could he not? There was no drunkenness or despair. He looked like he could do anything, and just then, I needed to believe he could.
Having this invincible Adrian by my side filled me with a joy I rarely allowed myself. Our fingertips brushed as I took the cup, sending a jolt of electricity through me. Carefully holding the coffee in one hand, I used the other to give Hopper a pat on the head as I ran a few mental calculations. Lack of sleep was his enemy. Do we have time for a photo op? If she likes you, she might tell you something. Terwilliger shrugged. I did without question and used the opportunity to transform Hopper back into his statue form.
A recluse witch made me think of Clarence, so I was surprised when we pulled up at a very modern Spanish-style house that was pretty much the opposite of an old Gothic manor.
It was made weirder still by an El Camino with a flat tire sitting out on the driveway. Then we stepped inside the door. It was like being in a shrine. Every surface in the place was covered. There were vases of silk roses carefully centered on crocheted doilies, figurines of puppies carrying roses in their mouths on lace doilies, and delicate rose-covered tea sets placed on paper doilies.
And that was just the start of it. Terwilliger said to our hostess. Her white hair was pulled into a long braid down her back, and she wore her glasses around her neck on a long blue- beaded chain. Her jeans had an impossibly high waist and were paired with, unsurprisingly, a rose-printed shirt.
The lines of her ninety years showed on her face, but there was a sharpness in her dark eyes that explained M s. You want something. Just want, want, want.
Terwilliger gulped and pushed me forward. Inez took them warily and sniffed each of them before giving a small grunt of approval. Been a while since I entertained a handsome young M oroi. You go for pink too, huh? I told them that when they got the flowers, but would they listen to me? They insisted on burgundy.
Terwilliger a once- over. Their kind almost never come to us for help. M y apprentice. The scent of roses was cloying, and I counted at least three plug-in air fresheners responsible for the oppressive atmosphere. Inez settled back into a velvet padded armchair that I almost thought was rose- free until I saw more of them carved into the wood. Terwilliger on the sofa. Adrian made himself comfortable on a thronelike chair.
And here I thought you just spent your free time advocating chia seeds in natural-foods forums. She chuckled softly to herself. Terwilliger almost defensively. Inez tsked and picked up a teacup. I could tell as soon as I opened the door. Or whatever it is you Alchemists believe? It was why we were here, after all, to learn about her history of fighting Strigoi.
I also knew from being with the coven that vampires were just business as usual to some witches. Nonetheless, it was a completely new and baffling experience to be with an outsider who was so at ease with M oroi. Do you have a boyfriend, girl? Yes, of course you do.
That just makes things worse. No boys. No temptation. Lose your virginity, girl, and you lose half your magic.
Something you might have thought about, Jaclyn. I made a point of studying her teacup because I knew if I looked at Adrian, I was going to start laughing. Worse and worse. She takes this very seriously and has already joined the Stelle. I need your guidance.
I want to know more about it. I figured someone like you would know more than me. Stakes, fire, or decapitation. Not that the M oroi give us many stakes. Just takes a good fireball spell. I know a lot about that spell. Terwilliger a quizzical look. Sydney defeated her and saved my life. Please help me. I could tell she was intrigued, though. Flattery really could get you places.
M anual labor in exchange for wisdom. I crossed my arms. I had no time for such niceties as I sized up the spare tire, which seemed to be in only slightly better shape than the flat. Something tells me that the last time she drove anything, it was a horse-drawn carriage. About virginity affecting magic? Some of the witches in the Stelle are married, and M s.
He was wondering if that would influence my own views about sex. In truth, it was only one of the many factors I was juggling when it came to going to the next level with him. His being a vampire was one of my smaller concerns. But other things—vague ones, like simply reaching a milestone, and specific ones, like knowing Jill was watching—certainly weighed on me.
M agic played into it as well, but to a lesser extent. One of the biggest influences was just an overwhelming desire to be cautious. Even engaging in our relationship was a reckless thing, and some part of me needed to compensate by holding back on other aspects.
I did. No, not yet. But I had that definitive cautious nature of mine that felt it was best to be prepared. He helped me up when I finished in nine minutes and made sure I knew that he thought my dirty, sweaty state was adorable.
We went back inside and found Inez and M s. Terwilliger sitting comfortably in the air-conditioned mauve living room. I hesitated to sit on the couch again and instead settled on the floor in front of Inez.
She looked me over and nodded. Ask your questions. What happened? She touched the side of her throat. Exquisite, but lethal.
It leaves a residue on the blood when you use it. A stake through the heart kills them. Accepting this, I moved on. Seems like M oroi would be even more potent because their magic is already within them, not like us. Our magic. A similar thing occurs with a charmed stake. M agic is forced into it, becoming a more tangible weapon against the undead.
Inez put her hands into fists and slammed them together. Two sides of the magical coin. Sometimes they clash. Your tattoo there. The Alchemists get vampire blood to infuse it with compulsion, right? To stop us from discussing supernatural matters with outsiders. I guarantee your tattoo stopped working when you first dabbled in magic. Not then. Try to talk about vampires to ordinary people? Even M s. Terwilliger was looking at me now.
Like me, he believed the Alchemists were too harsh on vampires, but he even went as far as to say there were some Alchemist factions actually working with vampire hunters. M arcus claimed to have discovered a way to undo the magic in our tattoos, freeing us of the compulsion magic that enforced Alchemist loyalty and made us keep supernatural affairs secret.
That allegedly had freed me of the initial compulsion. The second step was to get the golden lily tattooed over with a sort of indigo ink M arcus had to acquire in M exico. He said without that step, the Alchemists could just eventually reinstate the compulsion. I chose my next words very carefully as I touched my cheek. If the two magics conflict, what would happen if elements derived from human magic were also put into this tattoo? Which magic would dominate? Inez frowned. The human magic, for sure.
Like speaks to like, at least in this case. Your own humanness would strengthen what was there. I was on the edge of something so, so big.
I could tell. I just needed to grasp it. M y fingertips could practically feel it. Her wrinkled brow frowned. Something from nature. Terwilliger in what I suspected was a rare show of deference. Something plant derived? Terwilliger pursed her lips as she mulled it over. She took a deep breath, and for the first time in our meeting, she looked uncertain. Finally, resolve filled her face. Thank you. Thank you so much.
These are quality books, passed down through my family. M y magical lineage goes back generations. She hesitated a few moments more. I immediately stood up, and Adrian started to join me. Surely I could maneuver in an attic. And I did. Inez nodded in approval. Terwilliger was full of mirth and incredulity. Do you want to store the books at my house? Terwilliger asked few questions about my personal life, romantic or Alchemist, but she was neither stupid nor oblivious.
M aybe witches took vampires in stride, but I wondered if she suspected— and judged—the full extent of my relationship with Adrian. Adrian leaned forward from the backseat. I assume you have some genius plan? Once she took up the quest, make-out hour had become research hour. And who was I kidding? Even though Inez had claimed that Sydney was already immune to future tattooing because of her magic use, both of us wanted that golden lily sealed, just in case the worst happened.
I dragged my supplies into the bedroom and worked on that goddamned self- portrait while she sat cross-legged on my bed, surrounded by books and her laptop. M oroi shied from sunlight, but as I watched the way it illuminated her, I knew without a doubt that humans had been made for the sun. I turned from my canvas, which so far had one green line on it.
The composition of different minerals and plants in nature affect the kind of elemental spell components they can hold for charms. Its specific gravity and perfect cleavage go a long way too. M arcus thinks he goes to M exico to get some material that fights the gold ink in and of itself. I set down my paintbrush and picked up a nearby glass of water. Charm that mineral and make ink out of it to seal your tattoo?
Terwilliger to figure out that kind of spell. I could probably order some off the Web. Something else in the halide family might have similar properties. He loses time on his M exico trips. No unnecessary dreams. You need to run this by him. He always comes back.
A dream is cake, Sage. Some people—not me, of course—might argue that you taking on this whole ink-making mission is an incredible risk. You think insubordination pisses the Alchemists off?
What if they found out it was being fueled by magic? If the Alchemists found out about even one of these things. At least not our reality. And spirit dreams? Those are what I do. You contribute plenty. How is it settled? How did we go from me declaring my love for you to me being okay with a dream? Just roll with it. The unexpected is par for the course with me. Nothing surprises me anymore.
I bet I could totally tell you something you never saw coming. And yeah, there was no question about it. I was surprised. Very surprised. I just never knew you did. I mean, I figured when it came to sex, the Alchemists had all these principles about purity and marriage and sin. Cheap way. Sydney was fully aware of this, but she made no condemnation and shifted to a topic that was more expected of her personality. There are a million pills on the market, so I had to compile all the data.
There was lots of color coding, as well as columns filled with unintelligible terms like estradiol and androgenicity. I mean, plenty of people have no problems at all, but there are things that sometimes happen that you have to take into consideration. Tons of these are linked to weight gain. No matter her new healthy habits, I knew her figure was a constant source of worry, which was ridiculous considering how great she looked. There are plenty of other safe sex options, you know.
Jill, who could see inside my world and the things I did— including the things I did with Sydney. Not that she was probably that sweet and innocent after living in my head. Jill, more than anything, was what I suspected had slowed down my physical relationship with Sydney. There were some things she could grudgingly accept Jill knowing about. And I had no argument or conciliatory words to offer.
The only thing I could hope for was that Jill and I could develop the self- control to block each other out. Was I willing to wait that long for Sydney? Studying her as I held her hand, I knew the answer immediately. Yes, I would. I gave her what I hoped was an encouraging smile.
If it works, great. If not, you stop taking it. It was something I tried to do once in a while. M aybe Jill knew all about my life, but I wanted to keep in touch with hers.
Besides, despite all our group dinners, it was nice just to have the two of us hang out. Well, almost two of us. Occasionally, Jill might leave the school with Sydney, but everyone preferred that a dhampir go along. I knew Jill found it oppressive sometimes, but this was one instance of stiff rules I could support. He was real, and I appreciated that. His training is excellent. M y attention soon turned to fighting for a parking spot downtown amid all the other evening diners.
There was only a short wait inside, and as the hostess led us to our table, we passed the dessert case. It may or may not have played a role in my decision to come here. I passed wistfully on the ouzo and asked Jill about her swimming team. All Amberwood students needed to participate in a sport outside of classes, and swimming was the perfect choice for her since most meets were indoors and because her elemental specialty was water.
Even now, there was happiness on her face as she described achieving a new personal best, and it was a pleasant distraction from the storms continually brewing in my mind.
The interlude was ruined when she turned to Neil with shining eyes. The best one. He wins all his matches. Any dhampir is going to dominate over a human. He blanched. He narrowed his eyes. Tell me more about your views on morality. But you know who you should talk it over with? I guess there could only be one alpha dhampir at Amberwood. And pistachio. M aking Neil wait while they hunted some down would buy us time.
Find some M oroi prince and give up on dhampirs altogether. You have a psychic bond now? That, and I just know you. What are you playing at? I was so stupid and missed my chance. For her birthday. It saved me a lot of explaining what had been weighing on me. She deserves more.
Imperfection is endearing. Seven-course meals with wine pairings. That perked Jill up. I say this with absolute seriousness: M aybe I could drink or something if you and Sydney—you know. Neil began walking toward us. One recovering alcoholic in this bond is bad enough.
I scanned around and found him leaning against a pillar, hands in his pockets as he watched me with that roguish smile of his. For a moment, I was dazzled by him and the way the sunlight lit up his cheekbones and hair. He was breathtaking. I strolled over and caught hold of the front of his shirt, tugging him toward me. I thought we agreed to no more dreams.
I never actually took you up on that surprise bargain. How am I supposed to get anything done now? The sunlight brought out the chestnut glints in his brown hair, and that fair skin that had once marked something frightening and otherworldly was now stunning in my eyes.
His features hardened into resolve. Adrian was a master at distracting me from those things. M arcus could be awake. Adrian was the best dream walker of the spirit users we knew, but some things were beyond even him. And yet, after almost a minute of tense silence, I saw a glimmer of something across the courtyard. He looked the same as ever, with his shoulder-length blond hair and the bright indigo tattoo latticed over his now-fading Alchemist lily.
There was a confusion written all over him that I could understand. He frowned and examined his hands, touching them together as though he expected them to have no substance. M exico? Amelia and Wade got their tattoos, and I got a tip about some rebels who need me in Arizona. Always a lot harder getting back in. Any Alchemist who slipped out of their grasp was bad enough, let alone one actively recruiting others.
With their many connections, he had to be extra careful in his movements, especially at high-security places like a border. She broke into a high-security Alchemist stronghold and hunted you down. Well, it does a little. I understood the principles but had yet to test them out.
He mulled things over for several long moments and then gave a rueful smile. Beaches and margaritas, right? Although I could still keep claiming I had to go off on projects with M s. Terwilliger, I knew Zoe was starting to think the outings were too frequent. M aybe two. M arcus frowned and then gave a slow nod. I need to get more information from my contact.
Alone again, Adrian wrapped me in his arms. Things felt real in these dreams. Very real. The smug smile he put on made it seem as though nothing in the world was wrong. That was how he operated and why so few knew of the inner turmoil that raged within him. After long kisses goodbye, I faded off to true sleep. When I showed up for M s. That, and going to my favorite coffee shop was pretty torturous these days. She was true to her word as we drove over, explaining some of the more pragmatic aspects both of charm making and manipulating the elements.
I remembered moments later that we were still technically in school hours and not everyone got to take off early like I did. The new semester had rearranged our schedules, so we no longer shared any classes. He had a lot of complex issues going on in his life, issues that overlapped with my own life —because Trey had been born into a group of vampire hunters.
Trey was currently on the outs with the Warriors, after inadvertently helping me disband a crazy killing ritual of theirs. Then, something had changed. Trey had fallen for Angeline. Out of all the outlandish things she was involved in, that one had caught me by surprise more than anything. I was pretty sure Trey still harbored feelings for her. As for Angeline, it was hard to say. To say my friends were living a soap opera was an understatement. They almost made my dangerous relationship with Adrian look boring.
The only bright side was that everyone seemed to be in a holding pattern. And so long as Neil held true to that stance, Jill and Angeline would have nothing to act on. M aybe it would have been nice for everyone to have some sort of happy ending, but I selfishly had to admit that my life was a lot easier when the drama dial was kept on low. Trey might not have been behind the counter today, but another barista I knew well was.
His name was Brayden, and he and I had briefly dated. In retrospect, the highlight of dating him had been free coffee and a particularly compelling discussion on the fall of the Roman Empire. How else do you think I get supplies? I figured you ordered them in. The dogs love it. Wolfe himself was quite a sight to behold, with his long grizzled hair and eye patch.
This is M alachi Wolfe. Wolfe, this is my history teacher, M s. Terwilliger extended her hand to shake his, and instead, he bowed grandly and kissed the top of hers. The pleasure is all mine. He glanced around. Oh, you mean Adrian? I always thought he was a little flighty, but I had no idea he was that far gone.
He just got a lot of acclaim for a mixed-media project he worked on. Wolfe, however, wasted no opportunity. You should go see this exhibit down by the San Diego shipyard. They re-created a Civil War battle scene completely out of Bowie knives.
Fifth time. I took out the Love Phone and texted Adrian. Ran into Wolfe. He asked Ms. T out. Adrian was still unable to get past symbols: I was at a loss for words on the way back to Amberwood, made worse by M s.
At last count, he had eleven Chihuahuas. She pointed to a diagram in the book that depicted a palm with four small clumps of dirt arranged in a diamond. What do you think of when you think of dirt? Nonetheless, I closed my eyes and focused my breathing, entering an odd state where my mind felt both clear and concentrated. The dirt was cool in my hand, and I envisioned damp, mist-covered forests, like one of the redwood parks up north, where trees anchored themselves in the earth and the smell of wet dirt hung everywhere.
Terwilliger softly. I did and saw a faint luminescence surrounding my hand holding the dirt. I tipped my hand, and it poured into my other one. Like many concepts in the book world, "series" is a somewhat fluid and contested notion. A good rule of thumb is that series have a conventional name and are intentional creations , on the part of the author or publisher. For now, avoid forcing the issue with mere "lists" of works possessing an arbitrary shared characteristic, such as relating to a particular place.
Avoid series that cross authors, unless the authors were or became aware of the series identification eg. Also avoid publisher series, unless the publisher has a true monopoly over the "works" in question. So, the Dummies guides are a series of works. But the Loeb Classical Library is a series of editions, not of works.
Kroniki krwi. Adrian Ivashkov. Eddie Castile. Jill Dragomir. Sonya Karp. Dimitri Belikov. Ibrahim "Abe" Mazur. Rose Hathaway. Romantic Times Reviewers' Choice Award.