Destiny Calls (40 page)

“Never the way I love you. Nothing compares to what you make me feel. Annalise is a friend. I love her because she is my sister and she defended me when everyone else turned their backs on me. I think she saved my life, just as much as I saved hers.”

“Then I think Annalise would be a proud name for our daughter to bear.”

He turned and toppled her soft body to the bed. Kissing every curve and loving every inch of her, he took her to a place where only Portuguese thoughts spilled past her lips, laced with words of love. He would learn her language and someday teach her Pennsylvania Dutch as well.

Cain had never recalled feeling so at peace with himself. She was his. She was his, and he would have her for all
eawichkeit.
Nobody would ever take away his Destiny again.

Epilogue

Dane frowned and shut his book at the sound of shouting. Whatever it was, Cybil heard it, too. She jumped to the bars of her cell and shook them violently. Plaster fell from the ceiling, and a deep growl purred from the back of her throat.

Her eyes flashed, and she bared her fangs at him. The ruckus coming from the hall drew closer, and Cybil hissed. The closer whoever was coming, the more agitated his sister became.

Male voices carried. Tension filled the air. Dane stood, preparing for whatever was coming. A roar of shouting came the moment the heavy door to the holding area was pressed open.

Cybil stilled. Dane was distracted by her sudden about-face. She dropped from the bars, and all the tension of her face eased. Her head slowly cocked as she appeared to listen to the pandemonium coming their way.

Dane turned and saw several large males struggling to drag someone in. They were members of The Order, but their clothing was wrinkled. They were without hats, and their faces needed a shave. Dane stepped back as someone yelled for him to get out of the way. He dragged his chair against the back wall so they could pass.

An awful hiss broke from some sort of animal, and then he recognized the beast in their arms. It was the thing that had killed his mother.

Dane stood, frozen against the back wall, a child in front of the boogeyman once more, as the men fought to subdue the vicious creature and protect themselves from the lash of his claws and the snap of his jaw. The thing was filthy. His hair was matted with leaves and mud.

Dane turned and spied Ezekiel standing far back at the door from which they entered. This was his brother, and he would be the male to kill him once and for all. Dane wished
he
had the courage to kill the bastard.

He thought of his mother and a sickening sadness filled him. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to go to Grace.

He did nothing.

As Isaiah twisted, completely mad, and bit down into one large male’s arm, the group nearly lost hold of him. Dane flinched. There were close to a dozen men, and Isaiah seemed to be stronger than them all.

Like a rabid animal, he twisted and snapped, foam forming in his beard. Ezekiel shook his head and left. Dane didn’t blame him. He knew what it was like to watch a once-loved sibling go insane.

The men dragged him closer as he fought and then everything suddenly went silent. Isaiah’s body went lax, and the men practically stumbled at the sudden jolt of strength. It was like a tug-of-war when one team suddenly lets go.

Isaiah’s eyes shut, and his chin lifted as if he were scenting the air. All aggression cleared from his face.

Like a puppet directed to the beat of a peaceful symphony, his neck twisted. His eyes opened and focused on Cybil. She wasn’t moving. Her bloodred eyes scowled back at him, and her jaw appeared so clenched Dane wondered how her teeth weren’t breaking. There was nothing soft left in his sister.

The men quickly took advantage of the calm and hurried the monster into the cell beside Cybil. The door slammed with a crash and the twelve men all took a moment to catch their breath.

It was as if they didn’t even see Dane. Their smell was ungodly, and it occurred to him they must have been in the woods with little opportunity to bathe all this time. He was blown away that they had actually caught the long-lost brother of Ezekiel.

They left the holding area as quickly and determinedly as they came. Dane had to catch his breath just from witnessing the struggle.

Nervously, he glanced at Isaiah. The thing panted and stared at him, blood staining his one fang and his eyes so darkly red they looked the color of molasses.

He looked at the locked door then back at the creature and jutted out his chin.

“You’re going to die, and I’m going to watch,” Dane promised.

Isaiah suddenly turned and faced Dane’s sister’s cell. A sharp stab of fear knifed through him. Did the thing understand him? Was he going to punish him for his vow by going after his sister?

“Don’t you look at her!” Dane shouted.

Silently as a phantom, Cybil’s narrow fingers curled around the bar nearest Isaiah’s cell, slowly, from pinky to thumb. Her eyes were unfocused and clouded.

She had never looked more touched in the head.

Dane had become accustomed to her silence and the frequent growls since her accident, but that wasn’t what she was doing now. She wasn’t purring either.

No. She was humming, each note coming out long and sort of haunting, like a child dancing a doll along a lawn, her mind lost in another place and time. There was nothing charming about the slow, sweet humming tune coming from his sister. Rather, he found it incredibly unsettling. He frowned, and chills raced up his arms.

She pressed her face between the bars, her body loose and youthful, but disturbing all the same. Her eyes were unfocused as her cheek caressed the bar like one trailing a flower upon her cheek.

Her lips curved, and her chin lowered. Her gaze grew focused.

Her neck slowly turned, her head rotating toward the other vampyre.

Her mouth went soft, but her gaze was completely insincere. Then the evilness of her expression shifted the way a kidnapper tricks an innocent child into believing they’re safe, but she could not hide her madness from him.

Something malevolent flashed in her eyes and then his possessed, mute little sister turned and whispered, “
Isaiahhhhhh
.”

THE END

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GLOSSARY OF TERMS

A

Abedit-
appetite

Aesel-
jackass

Ainsicht-
only one

B

Blabbermaul-
talkative

Bredder-
brother

Brederlich-
brotherly

Buss-
kiss

C-D

Dobbich-
awkward

Dormlich-
dizzy; vertigo

Dummkup-
idiot; dumb (also referred to as
glutzkupp)

E

Eawichkeit-
eternity

F

Fahoongart-
starved

Feeish-
beastly; animal like; the condition suffered by a
called
vampyre when he or she goes unanswered; a loss of ability to make rational choices; a severe loss of control

Ferhext-
bewitched

Ferricked-
deranged

Ferroonzeled-
disheveled

Ferleicht-
perhaps

Fershteckle-
hide

Frau-
wife

G

Gagrish-
loud cry

Ganook-
Enough!

Goedemiddag-
good afternoon

Grex-
grunt

H-J

Hesslich-
hateful

Hongwarsth-
mischievous youngster

K

Kenn-
know

Kintish-
childlike

L-M

Looshtich-
jolly

N-O

Niddertrechticha-
vile

Nochich-
naked

P-Q

Plesseer-
pleasure

R

Roontzel-
wrinkle

Rootsh-
crawl; squirm

Ruich-
still

S-T

Schmecklich-
luscious (as in kisses)

Shrecklich-
frightful

U-Z

Unfershtendich-
absurd

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lydia Michaels is an author of paranormal and contemporary erotic romance. She lives in Pennsylvania with her wonderfully supportive husband, beautiful daughter, and her two ridiculously spoiled dogs. After graduating college, Lydia married her childhood sweetheart and best friend then became a mother and quickly discovered her love for literature. The only hobby she enjoys more than reading exciting romance novels is writing them! If she is not off spending time with her family you can usually find Lydia at her computer working on her next story or hiding somewhere quiet with a great book. She loves taking a romantic plot with steamy chemistry and pushing the characters through an evolution of emotion by creating real-life challenges any hero or heroine worth their salt could overcome. She presses the bounds of love and surprises readers just when they think they have her stories figured out. Her books are intellectual, erotic, haunting, and always centered on love. For more information, please visit
www.LydiaMichaels.org
.

For all titles by Lydia Michaels, please visit

www.bookstrand.com/lydia-michaels

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