Predatory

“Angela,” Arel murmured softly.



“No, I can’t bear it.”



“Angela, look.”



Reluctantly she straightened, assuming that Arel was warning someone was approaching.



“What?” she demanded when she realized the lot was empty.



With a bemused expression, he pointed toward her hands, which remained on Niko’s chest.



“That.”



It took a minute to see through the tears, then slowly she focused on the torn flesh that had started to knit back together.



“Oh my God,” she breathed in shock. “He’s healing.”



“You’re healing him,” Arel insisted.



She froze at his astonishing claim. “Me?”



“He has a heartbeat.” Arel’s fingers tightened on her shoulder, his urgent tone sending a flare of hope through her heavy anguish. “Don’t stop.”



“Niko.” Her hand resumed its soft strokes, her gaze glued to his face. Did he have more color than before? And was that a breath she heard? “Niko, can you hear me?”



There was nothing for long, agonizing minutes. Then, when she was beginning to fear that her grief was making her imagination run wild, there was a flutter of his lashes.



“Angela?” he croaked in husky tones.



She gave a choked cry, overwhelmed with relief. “It’s a miracle.”



Arel released a joyous laugh, his fingers giving her shoulder a squeeze.



“You’re the miracle.”



“Finally, you got something right, amigo,” Niko whispered, his gaze trained on Angela’s flushed face. “She is a miracle. My miracle.”



She shook her head. “I can’t believe it. I mean . . . I’ve been able to alter cells on a small scale, but this—”



“Gifts often reveal themselves under stress,” Arel said. “Although not usually with such spectacular results.”



“I’m not sure I could ever do it again,” she admitted, still shaken by the thought of how close she’d come to losing the man she loved.



“Your powers are yours, angel. No one will ever force you to offer more than you’re comfortable giving.” Niko lifted a hand to brush away her tears. “Now can we go home?”



“Home?” She studied his beloved features, knowing he wasn’t referring to her empty apartment. “You mean Valhalla?”



“Yes.” He managed a weak smile, his thumb tracing her lower lip. “You’re one of us now.”



Her eyes shifted to the wound that was continuing to heal before returning to meet his steady gaze.



She was one of them.



A freak.



A high-blood.



A Sentinel’s lover.



And nothing had ever made her happier.



“You’re right,” she murmured, bending down to gently kiss the man who offered her a future she never dreamed possible. “It’s time to go home.”



Hello Readers!



I hope you enjoyed Angela and Niko’s story. This is a short introduction to my new series, The Sentinels. This series will revolve around people who are “gifted” with special abilities and the warriors who protect them. Next up is Duncan O’Conner’s story. He’s a hard-nosed police detective who requests the services of Callie Brown, a high-blood necromancer, when a young woman is found murdered in her kitchen. Callie’s skill allows her to view the last memories of the dead before the soul leaves the body. Most cops consider it a gruesome talent, but Duncan isn’t so squeamish. Callie has managed to solve a dozen murders over the past five years. Besides, he can’t deny a fascination with the beautiful high-blood. She stirs a passion in him that threatens to consume them both.



Coming in June 2013 will be Darkness Avenged, Santiago and Nefri’s story. Can you believe this is the tenth book in the Guardians of Eternity series? I never imagined when I first came up with the idea of a clan of vampires in Chicago that it would grow and expand to include such a wide variety of creatures. Weres, witches, Sylvermyst, and of course, one naughty gargoyle. And it’s all because of you!



So thank you dear readers, and happy reading!



Alexandra Ivy



TIES THAT BIND



NINA BANGS



Chapter One



A ticking clock.



The creaks and groans of an old building settling.



A print of Edvard Munch’s The Scream hanging on a pale green wall.



They didn’t mean much individually. But as Cassie sat alone in the office of Eternal Rest Funeral Home listening to the tick tocks, the creaks and groans, and staring at the print . . . She took a deep breath and prayed for human contact before she did her own interpretation of The Scream.



Those creaks and groans? Definitely sounds of the dead rising, shuffling across the floor in the basement, coming for her. The ticking clock counted down the minutes before the walking dead crashed through the office door and tore her into bite-size bits.



Cassie shivered. Why had she agreed to sub for Felicity for even three minutes let alone three hours? She hated funeral parlors, hated the concept of putting dead bodies on display, hated dead bodies. For twenty-seven years she’d avoided going to a viewing—as a child with tantrums and as an adult with polite refusals.



Now, because her best friend had plied her with sobs and a giant guilt trip, she was here, by herself—not one other freaking person in the building except for dead guys—in the office of Eternal Rest. And it was getting dark outside.



She should have stood firm against Felicity’s begging. No one needed her here. She’d only answered the phone once in the last two hours. Fifteen minutes ago a woman had called to ask about her husband’s funeral. The woman had hung up with a huff of irritation when Cassie couldn’t help her.



Cassie’s heart did a giant ker-thump at the shrill sound of the doorbell. Get a grip. Zombies didn’t ring the bell.



The back entrance, the one with the very large doors that opened to allow very large things—definitely not thinking about what those were—to be carried in and out. She took gulping breaths and tried to calm her primal fears. But that was the problem with primal fears—they weren’t rational, and she couldn’t control them.



Cassie pushed to her feet and hurried toward—thank God—human interaction. As she yanked the doors open, and flipped on the outside light, she thought about shoving aside the man standing there and running like hell. Breathe, breathe. Fact: she could leave whenever she wanted. But then Mr. Garrity would fire Felicity. Fact: a live person stood not three feet from her. Her panic subsided.



“Can I help you?” She smiled as she took inventory. He looked around forty with thinning hair and an ordinary face. Cassie felt the rest of her fear slide away.



“Where’s Felicity?”



He didn’t sound too surprised that she was gone. Did her friend make a habit of skipping out on her job? “She had an emergency. She’ll be back in”—Cassie glanced at her watch—“an hour.” That’s all Cassie had to last. Sixty more minutes.



Felicity owed her big-time for this. No explanation, just a frantic call. Panic had ridden her voice as she’d begged Cassie to fill in for her. And no matter what, Mr. Garrity couldn’t find out that she was gone. She’d promised to leave the back door unlocked and then hung up.



Cassie had sat staring at the phone. What kind of emergency? It must’ve been serious from the sound of her friend’s voice. Her conscience pointed out that Felicity was allowing her to sleep in her spare room while Cassie searched for work. This small favor was the least she could do in return. Cassie wished her conscience would mind its own business. After about a half hour of mental hand-wringing, though, she’d temporarily beaten her fears into submission and headed out to spend a few hours in her personal nightmare.



“Does Mr. Garrity know you’re here?” He speared her with a hard stare.



Cassie had to protect Felicity’s job. She pasted on her most sincere expression. “Of course.” On the shades-of-gray scale, this lie was almost white. Her conscience subsided with a grumble.



The man nodded. “I do special jobs for Mr. Garrity. When a client wants a picture hand-etched onto a headstone, I’m the one who does it. Felicity probably told you that.”



“Uh, sure.” Felicity had told her nothing.



“I delivered one here this morning, but I have to make some minor changes.”



He held up a few pointy tools she hadn’t noticed at first. She frowned. Why would he deliver the headstone here and not to the cemetery? “So you do custom work?” That was her, the queen of obvious.



He smiled for the first time. “Every headstone is one of a kind. Why don’t you get the keys to the basement rooms and meet me down there?”



“Keys?” She’d seen the elevator doors in the hallway right behind her, but Cassie had tried not to think about what lay beneath her feet. Not too successfully if she was imagining zombie attacks.



He’d stopped smiling. “The keys are in Felicity’s desk.”



“Right. Desk.” Something didn’t feel right. Cassie glanced past him to where he’d parked his small, unmarked delivery truck. Another man was climbing from the passenger side of the truck. Now this guy was scary, and big, but he was human and alive. Both points in his favor. She dismissed her feelings. This whole place spooked her.