Hey, loves!

It’s time for a brand-new chapter of Unholy Intentions! “No Sanctuary” is here, and trust me—you don’t want to miss what’s coming. Things are getting more intense, more dangerous, and even more irresistible between Hailey and Priest.

But before you dive in, I have some exciting news! The ARC team for Unholy Intentions is now open! If you’d love to get an Advance Reader Copy (ARC) and read the book before anyone else, now’s your chance!

Email me at anacalin@theromancetrove.com
ARCs will be sent between March 15th-17th, in electronic format to your e-mail, in exchange for a review on Amazon on the day of release (20th – 22nd of March), if you choose to leave one.

Make sure to let me know you want in, and I’ll add you to the list!

Now, go ahead and lose yourself in the dark obsession, deadly secrets, and possessive tension of this new chapter. As always, I love hearing your thoughts—drop a comment and let me know what you think!

 Happy reading, and welcome to the dark side!

***

Hailey

Sniffling, I look up at his face, searching for what exactly is doing this to my senses. I let my eyes slide freely over his features. He appeared so perfect last night, but frankly, I wrote it off as an effect of the club lights, the booze, and then my being so damn horny. But now that I’m sober, I see it clearly, that thing that’s so special about him, and it goes way beyond his ridiculously good looks. Those gold-green eyes seem to have known the most rotten sins, and forgiven men as terrible as Bobby Saintpatrick right before he slit their throats. A confessor who will listen without judgment, and an executioner who will kill without mercy, blended into one.

Frightening things simmer in that vastness, pulling me closer.  

A faint, barely noticeable scar slashes through his eyebrow, enhancing the dangerous edge of his allure, and I wonder what put it there. Afraid I might be too obvious, I let my eyes drop. 

To his lips.

I swear the man has the most kissable mouth I’ve ever seen. It’s an effort to keep my own shut and not ask him if he ever did taste a woman’s lips. Maybe before he became a Cleric? Before he took his vows? A stab of jealousy goes through me at that thought. If he did, I wish I were that woman. His lips look like fucking candy, and an outline of them in anime style starts taking shape in my mind. I wonder if he already knows I’m into that. 

I look away, heat rushing to my face. I don’t know what hurts more, the thought of him knowing what I like, or him touching another woman. 

“It’s all right,” he says, his voice like silk on naked skin. “You’re in shock. Anyone would be.”

He signals the other men to close the door to the service stairs. 

“No, they need to get them out, please,” I protest, tears pooling into my eyes. Priest wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his warmth as he leads me away. “Please, they can’t just leave them there like discarded carcasses.”

“They are discarded carcasses, Hailey. That’s all that’s left of them. The people you knew, they’re not in there anymore.” 

He ushers me into my bedroom and closes the door. Duckling jumps from the bed to the ottoman and from there right into my arms. I gather the warm ball of fluff to my chest, careful not to squeeze her too hard, burying my face in her white fur and thanking God for the millionth time for her. 

“When you opened that door, you chose the truth. And the truth is that those men weren’t just killed. They were slaughtered.” He pauses for just a beat. “Your stalker has a very special set of skills, one I’ve only seen among highly trained Order members.” 

A cold shiver runs down my spine.

“You’re saying,” I whisper, “my stalker is an Order fighter?” 

“One that wanted to make a point last night.”

“And how come the hotshot Brother Superior didn’t see this coming? How come you couldn’t save them?” 

His eyebrows dip, and his face seems more angular, more brutal.

“You are my assignment. And you are safe,” he points out.

“Then this is all my fault,” I shriek, feeling like I’m losing it. “I did this to them. I widowed their wives, I orphaned their children.” The weight of that truth crushes me from the inside out.

Priest reaches me in a few strides, his large hands wrapping around my shoulders.

“Listen. The man who did this is the only one responsible for the massacre. He alone is responsible for his actions. Not the people who provoked them, or even the ones who benefit from them.”

Some of the weight inside lifts, allowing me to at least breathe. 

“But I did provoke him, and you know it.  It’s why you’re here.” My voice turns to a whisper. I must sound like a lunatic sharing her delusions. “The things that I did…” I want to tell him, so bad, but it won’t come out. I’m too ashamed. 

And he doesn’t push. All he does is trace my cheek lightly with his finger, and I can’t take my eyes off the golden abyss in his. They’re such a captivating shade. He cups my face in those large hands, and my lips part on a breath. His palms are calloused, everything in their texture reminding me this is a world-class killer holding my face, and yet all I want to do is step even closer, right into his personal space, and breathe his air. 

“If we were to live our lives thinking about how our actions could influence others’ decisions, you’d see a burn-out pandemic in no time. No man who’s right in the head decides to stalk a woman, no matter how maddeningly sexy she is. There’s nothing you could have done to stop this asshole.”

He thinks I’m maddeningly sexy?

I flinch when he drops his hands off me and makes a step of space between us, remembering to take a much-needed breath. 

I was never a religious person, but if God had a weapon, it would be this man, which is why I find it hard to believe the stalker was actually able to get past him. I can’t help wondering if he didn’t actually let it happen. Anything is possible in the dark vastness in his eyes, and that includes diabolical schemes. 

“Still, we need to tighten protection around you for good measure,” he says, “which is why I’m going to move in with you.”

Wait, what?

“Excuse me?” 

“I know that doesn’t leave you much personal space, but it’s the way it is,” he declares.

“The stalker didn’t get to me,” I argue because him living here, under the same roof as me, is not an option.“I’ll be fine.” Fuck, I sound desperate, but it doesn’t move him in the least.

“You need permanent monitoring, twenty-four-seven. End of discussion.” 

My skin starts to itch, and I scratch myself nervously, biting the inside of my cheek. I should just stop. Just close down the account, go off the grid. After all, what kind of woman would I be, still playing around on OhEf when a dozen men have lost their lives because of me? Even if only out of respect to them and their grieving loved ones I should stop fingering myself for pervs online. 

“Listen kitty kat, we need to get this guy sooner rather than later. Would putting up with my presence really be that terrible?” His tone becomes a lush shade of black. If I close my eyes, I might just feel it on my skin. I have no idea when he started using that pet name for me, but it bothers me far less than it should. 

“Is it true?” I whisper. “That the Cleric can hypnotize people just using their voice?”

He gives me the ghost of a smile. “It’s called conversational hypnosis.” 

 “Can you compel people to tell the truth as well?” I whisper, deepening the sense of intimacy. 

“Conversational hypnosis is a psychological technique, not an esoteric act. A skill, not a superhuman ability. So no, I don’t have fairy-land abilities.” Is it just me, or he’s even closer now? “But I am an Iron Cleric. We are bound by oath to tell the truth—if the right questions are asked.”

“So,” I breathe, “are you doing it to me right now?”  

“Does it feel like I am?”

“It feels…” A prickling sensation travels over my skin. “It feels like I’ve taken a drug that slowly unfurls through my veins.” 

“I’m here to protect you, Hailey, not to toy with you.” He steps back, his spell starting to fade.

The dead men lying at the foot of the service stairs knock right into the forefront of my brain again, and my insides knot.

“Do you ever get used to it?” I breathe. “Death?”

“The sight? Yes. The smell? Never.”

My nostrils flare at the memory of a scent I didn’t even register, but I now realize already burned itself into my brain. 

“I’d never seen a dead body before tonight.” I walk to him as if a magnet were pulling me. “I was told that dead people looked like they were sleeping. Like they could open their eyes any second, and stand, and walk, and hug their loved ones. But those men, they looked so ultimately, flagrantly dead.” My voice breaks.

“If it’s any comfort,” Priest says, “death isn’t always an ugly thing. It doesn’t always hurt, and it’s not always horrible.”

I lose myself in those gold-green eyes that pull me in like the vastness of the universe. 

“But it was horrible for those men,” I whisper. “They died in terror that twisted their faces. It didn’t even look…natural.”

Every second I look at him I remember he’s a killer, yet I gravitate toward him like a reckless little planet toward a black hole. After a moment’s hesitation, I think he’s about to tell me something big, but the door is thrown open, and a guard barges in.

“Cleric Ward,” he heaves, looking frantic. “There’s something you need to see.”