A Dowry of Blood: THE GOTHIC SUNDAY TIMES BESTSELLER

Product Information

This is my last love letter to you, though some would call it a confession. I suppose both are a sort of gentle violence, putting down in ink what scorches the air when spoken aloud.

Orbit UK and US will publish simultaneously in October 2022, with a further book from S. T. Gibson set in the same world as A Dowry of Blood following in 2023. This stunning cover was designed by Duncan Spilling.I grasped blindly, heart hammering in my chest as the world blurred at the edges. My fingers curled around the first thing they found; your forearm. A startled look crossed your face and I clung to you tightly, pulling you closer. I didn't know what you were offering me, I just knew I was terrified that you were going to leave me.

S. T. Gibson said:‘I’m absolutely elated to be working with the talented team at Orbit to bring A Dowry of Blood to life on a grand scale. From the first editorial call, I knew that this book had found its perfect home. A Dowry of Blood was my refuge and comfort during a tough period in my life, and Constanta’s story is near and dear to my heart. By writing this book I was able to dive headfirst into themes of love and marriage, abuse and tenderness, and life and death. I hope readers enjoy the chills and thrills of this dark, dramatic story of obsession.’ I will do you a twofold kindness," you said. "I will raise you out of the dirt and into queenship. And, I will give you your vengeance." TVTropes is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

Trending Posts

I know you loved us all, in your own way. Magdalena for her brilliance, Alexi for his loveliness. But I was your war bride, your faithful Constanta, and you loved me for my will to survive. You coaxed that tenacity out of me and broke it down in your hands, leaving me on your work table like a desiccated doll until you were ready to repair me. Vengeance?" I whispered, the word harsh and electrifying on my tongue. It sounded Biblical, apocalyptic, beyond the grasp of human experience. But I wasn't human anymore, and you hadn't been for a long time. Hachette Book Group is a leading book publisher based in New York and a division of Hachette Livre, the third-largest publisher in the world. Social Media

Unreliable Narrator: The book is written as a letter that Constanta is writing to her husband, Dracula. The unreliability comes from the fact that she tries to paint him as far more benevolent than he actually is, only to slowly start to discover that he's a depraved monster and sociopath underneath the kind facade he gives out. I will render you as you really were, neither cast in pristine stained glass or unholy fire. I will make you nothing more than a man, tender and brutal in equal measure, and perhaps in doing so I will justify myself to you. To my own haunted conscience.”

You did not let me keep my name, so I will strip you of yours. In this world, you are what I say you are, and I say you are a ghost, a long night's fever dream that I have finally woken up from. I say you are the smoke-wisp memory of a flame, thawing ice suffering under an early spring sun, a chalk ledger of debts being wiped clean. A lot of writers give endless thought to the logistics of vampirism: the who and where of killing, of moving around, of the laws the limit or enhance the vampiric life. Not so here. Constanta and her lovers never seem to fear discovery or vengeful mortals, or feel hemmed in by their nocturnal lifestyle. They kill with abandon, travel freely, interact easily with whatever humans they so choose. External forces rarely do more than displace them; only forces internal to their shifting relationships challenge and threaten them. He opened his mouth to shout. I wrapped my fingers around his upper and lower sets of teeth and wrenched his jaw apart before he had the chance. I rose on shaky knees into a new life, one of delirium and breathtaking power. Blood, yours and mine, dried into brown flakes on my fingers and mouth. When it was over, I stood unsteadily amidst the bodies, panting hard. I was satisfied with what I had done, with no treacherous regret creeping in at the edges, but I didn't feel exactly… satiated. The hunger was still there, quiet but present despite my churning stomach full of blood, and I didn't feel as clean and vindicated as I had hoped. The horror of being beaten while my family burned to death still existed, seared into my memory though my body no longer bore the marks. The appetite for revenge those men had sown in me was still there, curled up tight and sleeping fitfully.