Blood Bond

requires fumbling excuses about poor circulation.

“Please, Anna,” she says softly. “Don’t be sad.”

I meet her eyes, so warm and full of life. My heart beats with dull, irritating regularity in my chest. “This is so unfair.”

She sits back, smiling. “How can you say that? Here we are together. You’ve found a wonderful man in Daniel and a child that will bring you as much pleasure as Trish has brought us. You have much to give the world. I am so proud of you.”

I close my eyes, tears spilling over my cheeks, filled with so much sadness, my guts twist with it.

Mom reaches over again, touches the tears with the tips of her fingers. “No tears. This is a time of joy. A time to be together with no regrets. A time to make memories.”

I take her hand in both of my own. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Anna.”

Laughter from the other end of the table makes us look up. Dad has carved off a huge turkey leg and placed it on John-John’s plate. John-John doesn’t hesitate a moment, but scoops it up with both hands and takes a bite.

This time, a smile touches my lips, too. Mom is right. No tears today. They’ll be plenty of time for tears later. When she’s gone.

I’m both sad and elated.

I’m looking at my future. Here surrounded by those I love. These are the memories I’ll cleave to in my lifetime.

More than a lifetime.

These are the memories I’ll keep for an eternity.

EPILOGUE

NO ONE REALLY EVER GETS A HAPPILY EVER AFTER. I don’t expect my story will be any different. There will always be conflict in the world—between mortal and immortal, between immortal and those who would challenge the way of things. I suppose that’s why I am. It is my burden to keep the balance. Having Frey in my life, and John-John, lightens the burden. Having a family and friends, humans I care about, lightens the burden. I didn’t choose this life, but I take comfort in the choices I do have. The choices I’ve made.

My name is Anna Strong.

I am vampire.

Special Preview of Cursed Read on for a special preview of Jeanne C. Stein and Samantha Sommersby’s first Fallen Siren novel CURSED by S. J. Harper Coming from Roc in October 2013

Meet FBI agents Emma Monroe and Zack Armstrong. She’s cursed. He’s damned. Together, they make one hell of a team.

Emma Monroe is a Siren, cursed by the gods and bound to earth to atone for an ancient failure. She’s had many names and many lives, but only one mission: redemption. Now that she works missing-persons cases for the FBI, it could be just a rescue away. Unless her new partner leads her astray.

Special Agent Zack Armstrong just transferred into the San Diego field office. He’s a werewolf, doing his best to beat back the demons from his dark and dangerous past. As a former black ops sniper, he’s taken enough lives. Now he’s doing penance by saving them.

Emma and Zack’s very first case draws them deep into the realm of the paranormal and forces them to use their own supernatural abilities. But that leaves each of them vulnerable, and there are lines partners should not cross. As secrets are revealed and more women go missing, one thing becomes clear: As they race to save the victims, Emma and Zack risk losing themselves.

Siren (noun)

1. One of three sisters ejected from Mount Olympus by Zeus and cursed by Demeter for failing to prevent Hades from kidnapping Persephone.

2. An immortal goddess bound to earth who, in search of her own salvation, saves others from peril.

3. A beautiful and powerful seductress capable of infiltrating the minds of others in order to extract truth or exert influence.

YOU’VE SEEN ONE DARK, RUGGED WEREWOLF, YOU’VE seen them all.

That’s what I told myself the first time I laid eyes on Zack Armstrong. I was wrong. Dead wrong. And now it’s come back to bite me in the ass.

I interrupt my best friend, Liz, in the middle of—something. I realize I lost the thread of our phone conversation the minute I spied Zack weaving his way through the maze of indistinct gray cubicles that make up the bull pen of the San Diego FBI field office. Save the hair and nine a.m. four-o’clock shadow, the man is all spit and polish. Tailored dark blue suit, starched white shirt, blue and gold silk tie and gleaming black shoes. The hair gives him a distinct edge—dark brown, slightly longer than regulation, no part. It’s swept straight back, accentuating the lines of his square jaw.

I resist the urge to crawl under my desk. “I’ll call you back later. New partner’s here. I’ve got to go.”

“Not until I hear the details. What’s he look like?”

Liz is forever trying to play matchmaker. Ironically, I rely on her spellcasting to make sure a match will never happen.

I turn around and lower my voice a notch. “Remember the guy from South Carolina I told you about? The one I was partnered with on that missing-person case in Charleston last year?”

“Really?” New interest sparks in her voice. “He looks like him?”

“It is him,” I say. “Which you’d think Johnson would have mentioned.”

“So what’s the problem? I’ll tell you now what I told you then. You shouldn’t write off the possibility of a good romp with a guy just because he goes furry a few days every month. Weres have amazing stamina. Hey, did I ever tell you about Walter?”

You name it, Liz has dated it. Being a witch with serious magical talent puts her in contact with a wide variety of supernaturals. A strong advocate for equal-opportunity love, she’s currently dating a vampire.

But Walter the werewolf was decidedly not one of her success stories.

“Yeah, Liz. A few dozen times. The problem isn’t Zack’s nature.”

“The FBI has rules about fraternization?”

“No.” I wish they did. I wish it could be that easy. Not that getting involved with a partner is encouraged.

“What, then?”

My eyes squeeze shut. I shouldn’t have given Zack Armstrong a second thought in the last thirteen months, seventeen days. But I have. I’ve thought of him often. Too often.

Gooseflesh appears on my arms; the hair on the back of my neck rises. A sense of dread washes over me. That’s why he’s here. This isn’t a coincidence. It’s a test the Olympians have their hands in. Or, more specifically, one particular Olympian. Demeter. I’m a Siren—one of three. We were banished by Zeus and cursed by Demeter thousands of years ago for failing to protect her daughter Persephone, for failing to rescue her before she was dragged by Hades to the Underworld. It’s for this I atone. For this I pay.

And pay. And pay.