“But the war has ended,” she lamely pointed out.
“That does not bring young men back from the grave to plant my fields, or fill empty pantries. Such devastation will take years to repair.”
“Why have you not said something before?” she rasped.
Slowly he turned to regard her with a somber expression. “As I said, I simply presumed that when you chose to wed it would be to a gentleman of means.”
The sickness in the pit of her stomach became outright nausea. The glorious future she had dreamed of for months was crumbling into dust.
“But . . . this is horrible.”
“Not so horrible.” Her father moved to gently pat her shoulder. “There are any number of suitable gentlemen who will be eager to wed the daughter of a duke. Especially one who happens to be as lovely as an angel.”
She abruptly pulled away from his comforting touch, her eyes glittering with suppressed tears.
“Do you have no feelings at all? I love Stephen. I do not want any other gentleman.” Her expression became one of deepest scorn. “Especially not one who only wishes to wed me because I happen to be your daughter.”
With an insulting lack of sympathy for her wounded heart, her father gave a vague shrug. “Then approach Lord Aldron and tell him that you wish to wed without a dowry or a prospect for an allowance from me. Let us see precisely how quickly he leaps at the opportunity to have you for his wife.”
Bianca did not even consider the notion of approaching Stephen. Not because she feared he would slither away the moment he discovered she was penniless, she hastily reassured herself. But simply because she would never wish for him to sacrifice himself in such a manner.
No matter how much it might hurt.
Knowing she could not hold back her tears for much longer, she glared at the gentleman who had managed to ruin her life in a few short minutes. Unwittingly, her hand lifted to clutch the silver locket that lay against her pounding heart. The necklace had been a gift from Stephen and held his precious portrait.
“I will never forget Stephen. Never,” she announced in dramatic tones, then turning on her heel, she flounced from the room and headed for her private chambers to cry out her misery.
In a stunning new series, Alexandra Ivy lures readers into the dark, seductive world of the Sentinels—humans outcast by their hidden abilities, treading the line between life and death, good and evil, pleasure and pain . . .
IN THE HEART OF DARKNESS
Sergeant Duncan O’Conner has seen it all before. Beautiful erotic dancer murdered at home, no suspect, no motive. But there’s one clue: she’s missing her heart. It’s enough to make the hard-bitten Kansas City cop enlist the help of a necro—one of the dead-channeling freaks who live in the domed city of nearby Valhalla. It’s a long shot, but desperate crimes call for desperate measures.
LIES THE KISS OF DEATH
Unlike the other “high-bloods” in Valhalla, Callie Brown considers her abilities a gift, not a curse. But when she reads the dancer’s final thoughts, she senses a powerful presence blocking her vision. This is no ordinary homicide. This is the work of a legendary necromancer who controls souls. A ravenous force that will put Callie’s skills to the test, O’Conner’s career at risk, and both their hearts on the line . . . literally.
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of Alexandra Ivy’s
BORN IN BLOOD,
now on sale!
Prologue
Valhalla had always been shrouded in mystery.
The leaders of the sprawling compound, named for the home of the Norse gods, claimed that it was a safe house for those people too unique to live among normal society.
Of course, everyone knew that was just a polite way of saying that it was a home for freaks.
Witches, psychics, necromancers, Sentinels, and god only knew what else roamed the grounds protected by a layer of powerful spells.
For the past century, Valhalla had been a source of fear and fascination throughout the entire world, but most especially for the citizens of the small Midwest town who could see the shimmer of blue reflecting off the protective dome that hid the buildings from view.
Not surprisingly, there were citizens who called for the entire place to be nuked. The freaks were dangerous, they insisted, with powers that none of them truly understood. Who knew what the monsters would do if someone pissed them off?
Then there were others who said they should be locked away and studied like lab rats. Perhaps their mutations could be used to help normal people.
Most, however, preferred to ignore Valhalla and the high-bloods . . . as they preferred to be called . . . living behind the dome.
Until, of course, they needed them.
Chapter One
Kansas City, Kansas
Sergeant Duncan O’Conner was late to the party.
Nursing a hangover from hell, he took two painkillers with a gallon of hot coffee and steered his POS cop car through the light Sunday traffic and entered the gated community in the South-west suburbs.
The call had hit his cell phone at three in the afternoon. An hour before, he’d hauled his sorry ass out of bed. It’d taken another half hour under the shower to peel his throbbing eyes open and get rid of the stench of cheap whiskey and even cheaper cigars.
His first thought had been to call in and tell them to find someone else. Wasn’t it supposed to be his damned weekend off rotation? Let Caleb deal with the latest stiff.
Then the thought that the entire station would suspect he’d spent the night of his ex-wife’s latest wedding getting shit-faced drunk sent him stumbling to his car. Yeah, like his bloodshot eyes and old man shuffle weren’t going to give the game away, he acknowledged wryly. But while he could take the razzing, he couldn’t take the thought of them feeling sorry for him.
Never that.
He might be a pathetic loser, but he was a pathetic loser who was damned good at his job.
Entering the cul-de-sac, Duncan parked his car and headed into the brick house. He ignored the speculative glances from the neighbors who had gathered in a little clutch across the street. He was accustomed to females checking out his spare, well-honed body shown to advantage in a pair of faded jeans and black tee. Even with his short, pale blond hair damp from the shower and his stubborn jaw shadowed with a golden stubble, he had the look of a man who knew what to do with a woman. Match that with a pair of hazel eyes that sparkled with wicked charm and they were like putty in his hands.
The men tended to be more interested in the gun holstered at his side and the hard expression on his lean face that warned he only needed an excuse to kick someone’s ass.
His own attention was focused on the house as he stepped into the small but elegant foyer. Not the sort of house a young woman could afford without some help. From daddy. Or more likely, from sugar daddy.
Not that he was being sexist. He couldn’t afford a damned toolshed in this frou-frou neighborhood. Even if his old da chipped in every penny he made driving a cab.
He continued to size up the bold black and white furnishings as a uniformed officer handed him a file with the pertinent details of the case. A beat later another officer arrived to lead him to the back of the house and a sunny kitchen with a perfect view of the pool.
He grimaced as the late spring sunlight sent a stab of agony through his throbbing brain, then lowered his gaze to the female who was lying naked in the middle of the tiled floor.
He wasn’t surprised that she was beautiful. Stunningly beautiful with long hair that glistened with chestnut highlights, pretty features, and a slender body that was tight with the muscles of an athlete.