Sold into slavery mere hours after his birth to werewolf parents, Tracker spent decades in service to cruel underworlders. Then the fallen angel Harvester transferred his ownership to a human woman who gave him as much freedom as the unbreakable bond would allow. Still, thanks to his traumatic past, he’s afraid to trust, let alone feel love. But when an acquaintance shows up at his door, injured and in need of help, he finds himself longing for a connection. For someone to touch. For someone to care.

Stacey Markham has had it bad for Tracker since the day her best friend, Jillian, was forced to hold his unbreakable slave bond. At first, the fact that he’s a werewolf seemed weird to Stacey, but hey, her best friend was married to one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, so weird is definitely a matter of perspective. Stacey knows the depths of Tracker’s trauma, and she longs to help him even as he helps her, but breaking through his walls isn’t easy. And it only gets harder when the only blood family he has, the pack that gave him away, lays claim to him…and everything he loves.

Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you’ll enjoy each one as much as we do.

Book Type:

Paranormal Romance

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Excerpt: Bond of Destiny
By Larissa Ione

Excerpt: Bond of Destiny

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Larissa Ione returns with a new story in her Demonica series. BOND OF DESTINY is out tomorrow, but you can get a sneak peek below!

This was stupid.

So stupid.

She cursed her life choices, beginning with her former career as a sheriff’s deputy and ending at this very moment. Dying in a blizzard when it could have been prevented was going to suck. She should have taken the job at the Demonic Activity Response Team’s Honolulu office when they offered it to her two years ago. Instead she’d opted to remain in her small Colorado hometown as the sole DART agent, in charge of dealing with the occasional demon incursion.

She could be lounging on a warm beach right now, soaking up the sun and drinking piña coladas. Instead, she was going to freeze to death in a snowstorm or burn to death in a fiery crash.

Somehow she made it a mile in under fifteen minutes without ending up in a pile of flaming metal at the bottom of a ravine. Her hands were cramped from gripping the steering wheel so tightly that it’d probably have permanent finger dents, and her jaw hurt from clenching it.

At this rate, it was going to take her hours to get back to town—

She screamed as the back end of her Jeep fishtailed hard and caught the shoulder. The next few seconds were a spinning blur of terror and ice and snow, followed by confusion and pain.

The first things that became clear as the confusion faded, was that her rig had flipped onto its side and the cloying odor of gas burned her nostrils. She couldn’t hear the engine running, but the ringing in her ears could have been drowning it out. The next thing she became aware of was pain in her head. And arms. And left leg.

Oh, and she was lying on the crumpled driver door, her left shoulder resting in snow and broken glass.

Shit.

Her hand shook as she fumbled around to unfasten her seatbelt. Took a dozen tries from the awkward position, but she finally managed to free herself. Darkness made things even worse, and when she felt the vehicle shift and slide, panic sent her into a desperate scramble to escape the cab.

Agony screamed up her leg and hip as she squirmed her way upward, reaching for the passenger door. She gave silent thanks when she discovered that the window had broken out of it, eliminating the need to fight with the heavy door while trying to extricate herself.

As quickly as she could and fueled by fear, she heaved her battered body out of the window and onto the door of the Jeep. Instantly, stinging snow and wind scoured her exposed skin. Thankfully she had on her parka, but her gloves were still somewhere in the truck, and there was no way she was climbing back inside to find them.

The Jeep shifted again, slipping a few inches, spurring her into action. She leaped from the SUV just as it slid down the incline, this time for several feet before catching on what appeared to be a tree trunk or a boulder and flipping upside down, crushing the cab she’d just been inside.

Holy hell. I could have been inside that.

Shaken by her close call, Stacey trembled so violently she could barely use her hands to scale the ravine. It took her far longer than it should have, and by the time she reached the road, her fingers were numb, her arms felt like wet noodles, and her legs could barely hold her upright.

Before she could even take two dozen steps, her stomach rebelled, and she lost her late lunch of a steak burrito and refried beans from the new Mexican place in town. When she finally stopped retching, she started down the mountain, struggling in the fresh snow.

Best guess, about six inches of snow had fallen on top of the foot and a half that had yet to melt after a record snow winter, but the wind had created deep drifts that were already making the road impassable. She cursed herself over and over for attempting the drive even though she’d known better than to try.

Now she was too far from town to walk, but Jillian’s driveway was ahead. Somewhere. She wasn’t sure exactly where, but she did know Jillian’s property was the closest occupied residence. All the other buildings out here were vacation homes or hunting cabins. And while Stacey could break into one and take shelter if needed, committing a crime was going to be a last resort.

The wind shrieked like a Frost Howler, a demon she’d encountered during her DART training with the head honcho, Kynan Morgan.

They were cold. Cold like this blizzard.

Shivering violently, she limped through the darkness, looking for Jillian’s mailbox. Surely it wasn’t far now. It had to be close. Had to be.

And with a little luck, she wouldn’t freeze to death before she found it.

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