Heiress to a Curse

Heiress to a Curse
Zandria Munson

He was supposed to kill her, not fall in love with her. Yet one look at Alexandra and Marius was a man possessed by a hunger he’d never known. Keeping his family curse a secret from the woman whose death would end it would take all of his stone-cold strength, but protecting his family’s enemy might be the death of him. Alexandra’s charismatic new neighbour intrigued her as no man had.What secrets was he keeping and what did he know of the mysterious winged creature rumoured to be haunting the night skies? The truth would be her undoing – or her destiny…

In walked the gargoyle.

He was gasping as if he’d been racing against time itself. The sleek muscles of his chest were glistening, and his long hair hung dripping over his shoulders. At the back of her mind, past the fear and desperation that jerked every nerve ending she possessed, Alexandra realized that he had probably flown through a thunderstorm.

His glare went straight to her, then to the scattered items of the chest on the floor. “How did you get in here?” he growled.

She’d been right! Marius was harboring the creature. Slowly she stood, the sound of her heart drumming in her ears.

He extended a hand. “I will not harm you. Please, you must come with me.”

Alexandra’s attention drifted to the blood-stained bandage on his arm. And the leather tie that held it in place.

“Marius?” she whispered.

Dear Reader,

Heiress to a Curse is the first novel in the HEARTS of STONE series. My inspiration for this book came from two directions. One, my love for romance and for dark and dangerous alpha males. *Winks*. And two, my desire to be original. It seems everyone is trying to write the next great vampire novel. Although I have nothing against vampires, I just needed to think outside of the box.

I’ve found there are so many other creatures that one can make, shall we say, alluring. I chose gargoyles because I’ve always been fascinated by the ancient stone statues that sit quietly, monitoring our mundane routines from their vantage points. From this idea I was able to fashion the Drakon clan.

While writing this story I took every opportunity to visit places that would keep me in the right frame of mind. I wanted the scenes and characters to leap from the pages and tamper with the senses and emotions of readers. One of my most memorable experiences was visiting a haunted site in Michigan called the Paulding Light. There’s nothing like creeping through a dark and misty forest at 1 am on a cold September morning to get my creative juices flowing. I didn’t see any ghosts that night, but I did gain a wealth of inspiration.

Please enjoy Marius and Alexandra’s love story. I hope these characters bring you as much excitement as they did me.

Happy reading!

Zandria Munson

About the Author

ZANDRIA MUNSON was born and raised in the Bahamas on a beautiful island called New Providence. Her early education was enhanced with history and folklore lessons on pirates, mermaids, the Lost City of Atlantis and other fanciful topics. As a child she spent lazy summer days slipping in and out of her imagination. She started writing at thirteen.

Zandria attended the College of the Bahamas, where she obtained her degrees in nursing. Along with her passion for storytelling, she harbors a driving need to help others. She presently lives in Texas with her husband Christopher and kitties Munchkin and Chloe.

Heiress to a Curse

Zandria Munson

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

For my wonderful husband

and my pooh, Christopher.

Prologue

16th Century, Romania

Lord Victor Drakon stood at the foot of his wide, four-poster bed as he watched his wife in repose. Her tall and elegant frame was entwined with the many furs that covered the bed, while the lovely wealth of her hair lay splayed about her face. She was beautiful and equally as gentle hearted and he loved her dearly. From the moment he’d first spied her picking flowers on his land, he’d loved her. She held no title and she wasn’t of noble birth, but she was pure and her love was sincere.

He’d gone against propriety, against his family’s wishes, and severed his betrothal to Lady Vivian Dan cescu to claim this woman as his own. She was his heart, his life and his love.

Moving closer, he gazed upon her face, bathed in the flickering glow from the hearth. She sighed then, her soft breath fanning the stray tendrils that had fallen near her lips.

He leaned over her and gently drew away the black curls. “My sweet Amelia,” he breathed.

A sudden knock sounded at the door. It was his messenger, no doubt. He’d been waiting for news of Lady Vivian. After learning of his covert marriage to Amelia, the lady had been consumed by rage, hacking off her hair and publicly cursing the day of his birth.

He, however, didn’t hold himself accountable for her ill feelings, for he’d tried desperately to reason with her. They’d been forced into their betrothal as children—a union that was to join the wealth of two powerful houses. There was no love between them and thus, he’d offered her freedom. He’d proposed a sizable fare to appease her wounded pride, but she was a greedy and self-righteous woman; it was his lands she desired. And so, he’d been left with no choice but to summon the chancellor during the silence of the early morning to perform the ceremony that would join him and his beloved Amelia.

He quickly donned his cloak and opened the door. His manservant stood on the other side, panting and covered in soot. “The Lady Vivian, my lord, she is dead,” the man informed him.

“What do you mean, dead? Surely you jest!”

“No, my lord. She took her own life.”

The blood drained from Lord Drakon’s face and a sudden feeling of guilt overcame him. “How?” he asked.

“She burned herself alive, my lord. Even now fire consumes Elburich Castle.”

Lord Drakon’s nostrils flared as he inhaled a pained breath. Why anyone, most especially the gentle-bred Lady Vivian, would choose to end her life in such a horrific way was beyond him. “And her family?” His voice trembled.

The messenger’s head lowered. “They were all sleeping. Everyone perished in the flames.”

Lord Drakon spun away from the door and ran his fingers through the thick mane of his hair. Had the woman gone mad? To end her life was one thing, but to do so without the slightest consideration for her own family was another.

Was he to blame for her crime? Had his rejection driven her to insanity? No, he told himself. Her actions were the result of her own lust for greater wealth. No, the only one to be blamed was her.

A shrill cry resounded from the window of his bedchamber, shattering the solemn moment.

“Lord Drakon, I curse you!”

He exchanged confused looks with his messenger and they hurried toward the open shutters. Below, a woman stood bearing a torch. She was garbed in a heavy cloak that permitted only a shadowed view of her face.

“I curse your house and all who dwell within!” she continued.

“Who is she?” Lord Drakon asked.

“The witch Necesar. She was cousin to Lady Vivian.”

By this time, Amelia had awakened, and she slipped from the bed, draping the heavy coverlet around her. “Victor, what is it?”

He hesitated for a moment. “Lady Vivian’s cousin,” he replied.

Again the voice of the woman below rang out. “You rejected my cousin to take a common woman to your bed! Her heart was slain by your insult and now she is dead, taking her beloved household with her!”