The neighborhood was the safest in the city. Besides, the house was guarded by a security system.
If there was a creep out there trying to sneak a peek through the windows, then he’d set off a hundred bells and whistles the minute he stepped on the patio.
Brave thoughts, but a tiny shiver inched down the female’s spine as the shadow moved, stepping away from the hedges to reveal—
Without warning the image was snatched away.
Just like that.
Callie blinked, expecting to have been returned to her body. When the spark left, it destroyed any connection that Callie had to the dead.
But instead she found she remained in Leah’s body, standing in the center of the kitchen as if she were still in the memory . . . without Leah.
What the hell?
“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to see any more,” an unexpected male voice drawled.
Callie turned in shock to watch the tall man with silver hair pulled from his lean, darkly bronzed face stroll through the door leading into the dining room.
She pressed a hand to her racing heart.
No one should be here.
No one but her and the soul she’d connected to in the physical world.
Unfortunately, no one had given the stranger the handbook on necromancy. Instead of disappearing, he continued forward, the muted light revealing his painfully beautiful features. His brow was high and intelligent, his nose a thin blade, and his lips carved along full lines. And his eyes . . .
They were gemstone like hers, only instead of blue they were perfectly clear, like diamonds glittering with a cold light.
A male necromancer? Of the few she’d met, none had those color eyes. And certainly they didn’t have the sort of bone-chilling strength she could feel swirling through the air around him.
His muscular body was covered by a thick gray robe that covered him from neck to feet, although she caught a glimpse of slender fingers the same bronze shade as his face.
More terrified than she’d ever been in her life, Callie struggled to speak. “Are you the one who killed Leah?”
He halted a mere foot from her, studying her as if she were a rare bug beneath a microscope.
“A diviner,” he at last said, his words edged with a faint accent. “And one of astonishing power.”
“How is this possible? Are you in Leah’s mind?”
He seemed to pause, his eyes widening before he suddenly tilted back his head to laugh with a cold amusement.
“Callie Brown. How very ironic.” The diamond eyes glittered with a blinding light. “It must be fate that brought us here together.”
He knew who she was? The thought disturbed her on a cellular level.
“Who are you?” she rasped.
A slow, mysterious smile curved his sensuous lips. “That’s not the right question.”
Did he think this was a game?
“Okay.” She forced herself to hold the diamond gaze. “What are you?”
“That’s not right, either,” he warned, lifting a hand toward her face.
Callie leaped backward, her heart slamming against her ribs with the force of a steam hammer.
“Don’t touch me.”
His low chuckle seemed to wrap around her like sinful magic. “The question, my beautiful Callie, is”—he deliberately paused—“who are you?”
Her pulsing fear was disturbed by the unexpected sensation of Fane tugging her back to reality.
“No.” She tried to fight against her Sentinel’s ruthless pull, knowing that there was more at risk than the death of one young female. “Wait. Damn you.”
Her last sight was of the stranger blowing her a taunting kiss.
The vampire Roke is raw, sensual, always in
control. Yet somehow he’s allowed the
unthinkable to happen: a nymph-like witch
named Sally has used her magic to trick Roke into
mating with her. The pair will remain bound for
eternity unless Sally breaks the spell. The trouble
is, she has no idea how . . .
Mating with Roke was an accident; at least that’s
what Sally keeps telling herself. She’s on the hunt
for her demon father, whose identity holds the
key to releasing the spell. The search won’t be
easy with Roke shadowing Sally’s every move. As
they mate with a ferocity that leaves them both
aching for more, Sally isn’t sure if her world is
more dangerous without Roke—or with him . . .
Please turn the page for an exciting
sneak peek of
Alexandra Ivy’s
HUNT THE DARKNESS,
coming in June 2014!
Prologue
Styx’s lair
Chicago, IL
Styx was fairly certain that hell had frozen over.
Nothing else could explain the fact that in the past year he’d become the Anasso (King of all Vampires), moved from his dank caves into a behemoth of a mansion that contained acres of marble, crystal and gilt—gilt for Christ’s sake—and mated with a pureblooded Were who also happened to be a vegetarian.
Then, as if fate hadn’t had enough laughs at his expense, he’d been in an epic battle against the Dark Lord which meant he’d been forced to make allies out of former enemies.
Including the King of Weres, Salvatore, who was currently drinking Styx’s finest brandy as he smoothed a hand down his impeccable Gucci suit.
Of course, if it wasn’t for the fact that their mates happened to be sisters, he would never have allowed the bastard over his doorstep, he pacified his battered pride. His own mate, Darcy, was very . . . insistent that she be allowed to spend time with Harley who was growing heavy with her first pregnancy.
Or was it litter?
Either way, Styx and Salvatore were forced to play nice.
Not an easy task for two uber-alphas who’d been opponents for centuries.
Settling his six-foot-plus frame in a chair that had a view of the moon-drenched gardens, Styx waited for his companion to finish his drink.
As always, Salvatore looked more like a sophisticated mob boss than the King of Weres. His dark hair was pulled to a tail at his nape and his elegant features cleanly shaved. Only the feral heat that glowed in the dark eyes revealed the truth of the beast that lived inside him.
Styx on the other hand, didn’t even try to appear civilized.
A six-foot-five Aztec warrior, he was wearing a pair of leather pants, heavy shit-kickers, and a white silk shirt that was stretched to the limit to cover his broad chest. His long black hair was braided to hang down to his waist and threaded with tiny turquois amulets. And to complete the image, he had a huge sword strapped to his back.
What was the point in being a badass if you couldn’t look like one?
Setting aside his empty glass, Salvatore flashed a dazzling white smile. A sure sign he was about to be annoying.
“Let me see if I have this right,” the wolf drawled.
Yep. Annoying.
Styx narrowed his dark eyes, his features that were too stark for true beauty tight with warning.
“Do you have to?”
“Oh, yes.” The smile widened. “You asked the clan chief of Nevada to babysit a witch you had locked in your dungeons?”
Styx silently swore to have a chat with his mate once their guests were gone.
He hadn’t intended Salvatore to know that one of his most powerful vampires had been magically forced into a mating.
Hell, he’d had a hard enough time divulging the info with Jagr, his most trusted Raven. It was only because he needed the vampire to do research that he’d revealed the secret.
A mating was the rarest, most sacred, most intimate connection a demon could experience.
To think for a second that it could be inflicted on a vampire against his will was nothing less than . . . rape.