Blood Lust
The Sentinels, #3
The Sentinels, #3
by Alexandra Ivy
Releasing
May 31st 2016
Zebra
Zebra
Blessed and cursed by their hidden abilities,
the Sentinels have no choice but to live, and love, on the edge of humanity…
From
The Book Junkie Reads . . . Blood Lust (The Sentinels, #3) . . .
It was Bas's turn. So excite I was when I began. Okay. Let me say that there was no. Absolutely, no disappointment in the mere hours it took me to read this one. Holy. Holy. Holy. Action. Suspense. Action. Drama. Action. Romance.
This was so anticipate. Molly, Bas, and Myst. Things were bound to come about and picking up were the last left off. No you don't have to have read the one before. Its just great background into all the connections and build ups. Ivy loves her characters and you can glimmer all that just from reading her books. She set up new/side/secondary characters with possibilities that could present later for them to become more to the reader.
Anyway I was babbling. Bas loves his daughter. There was one other that he loved also. When all comes out on why she has been running, Bas makes her priority also with keeping their daughter safe. The love between the two shines bright and hot.
You just have to know there is more coming. Alexandra Ivy can write some paranormal immortal romance with action, drama, suspense, and oh my steam, heat, scorching goodness all the way round. What is next?????
**This ARC was provided
via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.**
The Sentinels series:
Out of Control – The Sentinels, #0.5
Born in Blood – The Sentinels, #1
Blood Assassin – The Sentinels, #2
On the Hunt – The Sentinels, #2.5
Blood
Lust – The Sentinels, #3
Blurb
The
Sentinel assassin, Bas, is facing the greatest challenge of his outcast
existence. His young daughter, Molly, has been kidnapped. But her disappearance
has brought the return of her mother, Myst, whom Bas has never forgotten--or
forgiven.
Haunted
by a vision that she's destined to create a weapon that will destroy thousands,
Myst was never impulsive--until she met the irresistibly handsome Bas. But with
the Brotherhood, the enemy of the high-bloods hunting for her, Myst had to stay
on the run, to keep her child, and the world, safe. Now, with the most
important thing in both their lives at stake, she and Bas must embark on a
treacherous journey to save Molly, to confront the truth of Myst's fate--and to
face their fierce desire for one another.
Buy Links:
Pacing toward the long bar that
was set near the leather sectional couch, Bas grimly poured himself a scotch.
Tomorrow he would have the suite cleaned from top to bottom. Maybe that would
get rid of the lingering scent of honeysuckle.
He
was on his second drink when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and he
whirled to study the woman who came to a hesitant halt in the center of the
room.
His
brows snapped together. He told himself it was be-cause she was an unwelcome
interloper and not because she looked as delicate and ethereal as a moonbeam.
A
very sexy moonbeam.
She
wrapped her arms around her slender waist, making a visible effort to meet his
gaze.
“There’s
no need to glare at me,” she chided.
He
set aside his empty glass, smoothing his face to an unreadable mask.
It
was something that should have come easily. He was a cold, ruthless assassin,
wasn’t he? Unfortunately, this woman had a unique talent of getting under his
skin.
In
more ways than one.
“You’ve
been screwing with my daughter’s mind,” he said between clenched teeth, still
unnerved by the revelation that this woman had been speaking with Molly without
his knowledge.
Her
chin jutted to a defensive angle. “I’ll admit that I’ve often communicated with
Molly, but I was hardly screwing with her mind. We talked like any other mother
and daughter.”
He
narrowed his gaze. “You knew very well that I was unaware of your telepathic
powers. You deliberately used that lack of awareness to take advantage.”
“Molly
was the one to reach out to me.”
His
scowl deepened. “How? You’re not trying to claim she’s a telepath?”
“No,
but I could sense her,” Myst muttered. “She needed to know that her mother
loved her.”
“A
mother who loves her child doesn’t abandon her.”
She
flinched at his deliberate attack. “I didn’t . . .”
“Didn’t
what?” “Nothing.”
He
studied her pale face.
She
was hiding something. But what?
“Why
are you here?”
“You
know why.” She hunched a shoulder. “I’m here to see my daughter.”
“Why?”
he pressed again. “Four years ago you left her on my bed and walked away
without looking back. Surely you can understand my confusion why you were
struck
with a burning need to see her
now.”
Her
lovely face, which looked far too young to be a mother, flushed at his
accusation.
“Molly
was traumatized when she was kidnapped.” His breath hissed between his teeth.
The
memory of Molly’s kidnapping was still a raw wound that made him think about
killing things.
“You
don’t have to remind me,” he snapped. “We were all traumatized when she was
taken.”
The
velvet-brown eyes widened with something that might have been confusion. “I’m
not blaming you.”
“Then
what are you doing?” he asked.
“Trying
to explain that after Molly was taken she reached out to me in terror,” she
said, her voice trembling as if she’d been as tormented as he’d been by her
abduction. “She couldn’t tell me where she was, or who’d taken her, so all I
could do was try to give her comfort and swear to her that I would come and
visit if she would be a good girl and do everything they told her to do until
you could come for her.”
Her
soft words should have infuriated him. What right did she have to make promises
to his daughter?
Instead,
he went hunter-still. “You were so certain I would find her?”
“Yes,”
she said without hesitation.
Shit.
He
struggled to keep his face devoid of emotion at the insane flare of pleasure
that raced through him at her absolute confidence in his skills.
What
the hell was wrong with him?
It
wasn’t as if this woman’s opinion mattered, did it?
“Is
that why it took you a week to get here?” he snapped, angered by his ridiculous
reaction to this female. “Or were you just too busy to care that your daughter
was in danger?”
Her
head snapped back, an unexpected fury tightening her delicate features.
“Don’t
ever say I don’t care about Molly,” she spit out, her hands clenched into tiny
balls. “I left the second I knew she’d been taken. If I hadn’t had to make sure
I wasn’t being followed I would have—”
She
bit off her impulsive words, stiffly turning to walk toward the bank of
windows.
“Followed?”
he instantly pounced. Was this a trick? A lame excuse for not rushing to help
in the search for Molly?
“By
who?”
“It
doesn’t matter.”
Bas
kept his gaze locked on the fragile profile reflected in the window.
“It
does if you’re in danger.”
She
hunched her shoulders, a visible shiver shaking her body.
“All
I’m asking is a few days to spend with my daughter,” she said in low tones.
Bas
was moving before he could halt his forward progress, grabbing her shoulders so
he could turn her to meet his searching gaze.
“I
want to know why you think you’re being followed,” he insisted.
Her
ridiculously thick lashes lowered to hide her expressive eyes. A sure sign she
was about to lie.
“You’re
always in hiding,” she muttered. “I didn’t want to accidentally give away your
location.”
“Bullshit.”
Her
jaw tightened, but her gaze stayed lowered. “Can I stay?”
His
grip eased on her shoulders, his fingers compulsively stroking the satin-soft
skin of her back.
“For
how long?” he demanded.
“A
few days.”
“And
then you intend to disappear into the ether once again?”
“Yes.”
Some
undefinable emotion clenched his stomach at her blunt admission that she
couldn’t be bothered to spend more than a handful of hours with her child.
His
hand moved from her shoulder to grasp her chin, tilting back her head so he
could study her delicate features.
So
innocent.
The
face of an angel.
How
the hell could she be so cruel toward her only child?
Unless
. . .
“Do
you have another family?” he abruptly demanded.
She
blinked, as if confused by his question. “Do you mean parents or siblings?”
His
lips thinned. “I’m asking if you have a husband and pack of kids. Is that why
you treat Molly like a dirty secret?”
“Of
course not,” she breathed, a genuine outrage darkening her eyes. “And I don’t
treat Molly like a dirty secret.”
Dropping
his hands as if he’d been scalded, Bas took a step back.
He
didn’t want to feel a sharp-edged relief that he’d been wrong in his suspicion
that Myst was already claimed by another male.
He
didn’t want to feel anything for this woman.
“No,”
he said abruptly.
“No
what?” she asked in bewilderment.
“No,
you can’t stay,” he informed, retreating behind his icy composure. “It isn’t
fair to Molly.”
She
sucked in a sharp breath, her expression stricken. “A visit from her mother isn’t
fair?”
“You
can’t just appear and disappear from her life when-ever you want.” He shrugged.
“It’s too confusing.”
“All
I’m asking is a few days.”
“No.”
“Bas
. . .” She held out a slender hand. “Please.”
Her
soft, pleading expression didn’t touch him, he fiercely assured himself.
He
was turning away and heading out of the room because he needed to check on
Molly, not because he was trying to avoid the blatant yearning on her beautiful
face.
And
the strange emotion that was currently twisting his gut into tight knots wasn’t
guilt.
Or
regret.
No
way.
“Lock
the door on your way out,” he commanded, refusing to glance at her.
“I’ll
return in the morning,” she said, the words soft but stubborn.
His
steps never faltered. “You’re wasting your time.”
“It’s
my time to waste,” she muttered. “I’ll be back.”
Bas
had reached the end of the short hallway when he heard the sound of Myst’s
retreating footsteps, followed by the closing of the door.
Buy Links:
Author Info
Alexandra Ivy graduated from Truman University with a degree in theatre before
deciding she preferred to bring her characters to life on paper rather than
stage. She currently lives in Missouri with her extraordinarily patient husband
and teenage sons. To stay updated on Alexandra’s Guardian series or to chat
with other readers, please visit her website at www.alexandraivy.com.
Author Links:
PRESENTED BY
No comments:
Post a Comment