Blood Trinity (Belador #1)
Sherrilyn Kenyon & Dianna Love
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
FROM SHERRILYN
Thank you to my friends, family, and fans. I love you all and couldn’t do this without you. You guys rock!
FROM DIANNA
A big thank-you to Sherrilyn for wanting to team up on a new series. I’m thrilled. Who wouldn’t be ecstatic over the opportunity to collaborate with a paranormal romance publishing legend? I can never thank my amazing husband, Karl, enough for his constant support, and ensuring my world is stable and filled with love so that I can create. Author Mary Buckham helped as an early reader and in wild brainstorming moments, sometimes with a glass of wine involved. Cassondra Murray is the best assistant anyone could ask for, but having the benefit of her sharp eyes and understanding of story—for she is a talented writer as well—is priceless. Plus, her husband, Steve Doyle, is always ready to offer his former Special Forces expertise when needed. I also want to thank Barbara Vey for spending that impromptu day in Atlanta with me researching locations, and for what her informative and positive Beyond Her Book blog brings to the publishing industry. Thank you, as well, to Kim Newman, who once again shared her knowledge of the Spanish language and on short notice. I love hearing from fans and book clubs at [email protected].
FROM BOTH OF US
We’d like to thank the entire Pocket team, with a special thanks to our terrific editor, Lauren McKenna, and outstanding publisher, Louise Burke. Everyone, from the marketing department to the art department to the copy editing department, worked hard to give us a wonderful presentation for our first Belador story. We’d also like to thank our amazing agent, Robert Gottlieb, who directed this project from the beginning and continues to show why he is an icon in our industry. Thanks also to the RBLs for always bringing joy like fairy dust when we see them.
Last, but never least, we want to thank you, the fans, for reading and coming out to share time with us when we tour. You are the reason we write.
TWO YEARS AGO
UTAH … BENEATH THE SALT FLATS
Uphold my vows and die.
Or break my vows and die?
Evalle Kincaid had faced death more than once in the past five years, but never with these odds. If she had a one percent chance, it would be a miracle.
A citric odor burned her lungs, confirming that Medb majik shrouded the rock walls, high ceiling and dirt floor of her underground prison. It was the stench of her worst enemies.
She still couldn’t believe that one of her own, a Belador, had betrayed her.
Not just her.
Anger over the betrayal and being tricked into falling for this chewed at her insides. But she pushed it down, knowing it wouldn’t do anything except weaken her more. And right now, she needed her full sense and bearings.
Peeking carefully from beneath lowered eyelashes so that no one would know she was awake, she took in the other two captives—male Beladors—also held upright by invisible constraints.
A human would be blind in this black hole, but her vision thrived on total darkness. Natural night vision that allowed her to see in a range of monochromatic blue-grays. One rare perk of being an Alterant, a half-breed Belador, unlike those two pure bloods with their backs against the glistening red-orange stone wall.
Did those men know each other?
Did she really care? They were either allies or enemies. And until she knew more about them, they were definitely enemies.
Similar in height and size, they were different as night and day in skin color and the way they dressed. The one with nothing on but jeans had been conscious when she’d regained her wits twenty minutes ago. Completely still, he hadn’t made a sound since then—like a snake lying low until it saw an opportunity to strike. Arms outstretched and legs spread apart, his gaze now cut sideways at a rustle of movement.
The fair-haired guy on his left struggled to reach lucidity.
Being imprisoned with two Beladors would normally fill her with hope for escape because of their ability to link with each other and combine their powers. When that happened, Beladors fighting together were a force only the upper echelon of preternatural creatures could touch. They were damn near invincible.
But linking required unquestioned trust. And right now, she couldn’t offer trust so easily. Not after a Belador’s telepathic call for help had lured her into this hole—into the hands of Medb warlocks. Her tribe had fought this bunch for two thousand years.
Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice …
Die with pain.
Even so, could she refuse to help these two warriors—members of her tribe—if there was a chance to save them? Beladors were a secret race of Celtic people connected by powerful genetics and living in all parts of the world. She’d only met a few.
Never these two.
But every member of the tribe had sworn an oath to uphold a code of honor, to protect the innocent and any other Belador who needed help.
If a warrior broke that vow, every family member faced the same penalty as the warrior, even the penalty of death.
Evalle had no one who would be affected by her decisions. The only person she’d had was an aunt who’d died that Evalle didn’t mourn. Not after what that woman had done to her.
But even without having someone to worry about she’d upheld her vows since the day she’d turned eighteen. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to. And—until now—she’d always supported her tribe without question.