Doomsday Brethren, Book 04: Entice Me at Twilight (3 page)

Around them, the others fought. Zain and Bram rumbled close. Duke joined in with a square thrust right at the tall wizard’s nose.

Shock tackled him into the wall and hissed, “If Mathias manages to resurrect Morganna, life as we know it will be over. Zain has
seen
you. He won’t keep the fact you’ve had contact with the Untouchable to himself. You’ve got a few hours at most to figure out who it is before Mathias pounds on your door.”

Every human Duke’s mother had recently introduced him to had some association with Mason and Felicia’s wedding. Zain kept up with a bit of human news; he’d know about the event. That knowledge could threaten hundreds of family, friends, and the press—all of whom would be under his roof for the ceremony.
Shit
.

Shock got in his face, teeth clenched. “Find the Untouchable before Mathias does.”

How?

“And get him or her deep into hiding.” The older Denzell brother delivered another blow to his cheek.

Damn it, that throbbed like a thorn in a lion’s paw and made him roar as loudly. He stumbled, his ears ringing.

“The Anarki are dead, and your chums are chasing Zain,” Shock said. “Last chance. Hit me hard.”

“Gladly.” With a grimace, Duke reared back to deliver a punishing left hook.

At the second of impact, both Denzell brothers disappeared, teleporting out.

Damn it!
That punch would have made him feel loads better.

Shoving his frustration aside, Duke realized Shock had left him
inside
the protections around Bram’s house. On purpose? Perhaps … one never knew with the elder Denzell. But now Duke could let the others past those protections so they could search for Merlin’s tomes.

As he mentally opened the barriers, Ice ran to Duke’s side. “Devious Denzell bastards.”

Bram nodded, fists clenched. “Shock won that round, I fear. Your face looks terrible. You all right?”

No. Duke was terrified for the Untouchable. Whoever the unlucky human was would be at his house tonight for the wedding, and Mathias would soon know that.

“According to Shock, Mathias has plans to resurrect Morganna.”

“He
told
you that?” Ice’s jaw dropped. “Is he barking mad?”

Duke frowned. “Shock or Mathias?”

“Mathias … but I suppose the question could apply to both,” Bram said.

“Think you there is any answer except aye?” Marrok stomped toward them, sweat dripping as he sheathed his sword.

Bram shook his head. “Impossible. He’d have to open her tomb. No one but my grandfather knew for certain how to do that, or whether the old tale about her essence remaining there had a shred of truth. He was responsible for Morganna’s demise, after all.”

“’Tis likely he would have written such down,” Marrok pointed out.

Cold dread slid through Duke. “And you kept Merlin’s writings here.”

A heartbeat later, Bram cursed. “That’s why Shock has
been poking around here. He was looking for Merlin’s books.”

Duke nodded. “And for a way to help Mathias bring her back to this plane.”

“Horn-swined lout,” Marrok groused.

Bram shook his head. “Still, Mathias would need an Untouchable to open Morganna’s tomb. They only come once every thousand years. Mathias is looking for a proverbial needle in a haystack.”

Duke grimaced. “Apparently, without trying, I found that needle.”

Bram’s gaze zipped over to him. “That’s what’s wrong with your signature.”

“How does Shock know about the Untouchable’s effect on someone magical?” Duke asked, hoping the double agent was merely unhinged or yanking his chain.

“His great uncle. Utterly mental and violent. Rumor is, he killed the last Untouchable, then talked incessantly about the change in his signature after touching her.”

“Why would Shock admit any of this to me, unless …”

“He’s on our side?” Bram shook his head. “Wishful thinking, I fear. I’m sure being ‘forthright’ serves some purpose of his we’ll never know. Rather than puzzling him out now, we must focus on finding the Untouchable before Mathias does.”

“This must be someone involved with the wedding. I’ve met any number of people recently.”
The photographer, the caterer, the florist …
“Does this person have any characteristics?”

With Duke’s help, Bram tore into the house, picking through the ruins until he came to what remained of his office. They held their collective breath, hoping Merlin’s writings hadn’t been ransacked.

Bram quickly unsealed the protective spell he had previously placed. The ground opened up and a box emerged. The
blond wizard tore open the lid and reached inside, grabbing a stack of ancient, yellowed tomes. They all heaved a sigh of relief.

Bram clutched them tight. “I’ll skim these, see if there’s any information.”

“No time,” Duke insisted. “We have to find the Untouchable now. Looks like you’re all invited to my brother’s wedding.”

Bram gestured to their ripped, mud-streaked attire. “Won’t we fit in.”

“Who bloody cares? If we don’t act now, there may be a slaughter.”

F
ELICIA
S
AFFORD LOOKED UP
to see her fiancé, Mason Daniels, stride into her changing room as she adjusted her veil. “Why are you here? Impatient as usual?”

A sly smile drew up the corner of his full mouth, reaching all the way to his dark eyes. “You know me …”

That she did. For six years now. Mason had never looked more dashing. His inky hair gleamed in the golden lamplight. They were roughly the same height when she wore heels, but Mason’s devotion to a workout regimen showed in the way he did a tuxedo proud. That little scar on his jaw gave him a rakish air. He turned heads wherever he went, but Felicia felt blessed to be one of the few who truly knew him from the inside out.

Over the years, they’d become best friends. His proposal a few months back had surprised her. They’d never so much as dated, but his persuasive arguments about a solid rapport being the foundation for a wonderful family someday made perfect sense and tapped into her longing for that kind of loving safety. They got on famously, respected each other, shared many values, even liked the same music. On top of that, he was a talented barrister.

So she’d said yes.

Felicia didn’t seek the roller-coaster ride of all-consuming romantic love, and Mason was well aware of that. They would remain friends, but become partners in life. They’d
both agreed it was the perfect arrangement.

Mason gave her a long, low whistle. “You look beautiful. Lace suits you.”

It was probably the best she’d ever looked in her life, and given her adoptive mother’s penchant for dressing her like a doll, that said something. But Felicia knew Mason liked her not only for her exterior, but for
her
.

Everything was perfect, except her niggling anxiety. What if marriage changed everything between them?

“Uh oh. You’ve gone quiet on me. Thinking of Deirdre, darling? Wishing she could be here?”

That, too. Felicia clutched the locket she wore about her neck. For nearly an hour this morning, she’d stared at her sister’s picture tucked inside, barely able to hold hot tears at bay. She’d half-heartedly chosen an old school chum as her maid of honor, but Deirdre’s absence created a gaping hole in Felicia’s chest. She missed her sister every day, but today… Felicia felt as if she bled grief. If she admitted that, however, Mason would only worry.

“I’m fine. See?” She flashed her dimples at him, doing her best to shove her abyss of sadness aside.

He frowned. “That’s not genuine.”

Felicia sighed. Mason knew her too well. “I’m trying. It’s just that … not having her here makes everything feel incomplete.”

“It’s natural to miss her.”

“Yes. But I’m angry. Her absence is a black spot. Deirdre should be here, and she chose not to be.”

“You feel abandoned. I know. You have good cause.” Cupping her cheek, he murmured, “Focus on us, on our future. We’re going to be happy.”

“Yessir.” She sent him a mock salute, trying to lighten the mood. “If I didn’t say so, you look stunning.”

He chuckled. “Thank you. I should go. If Mum knew I’d seen you before the wedding, she would prattle on about bad luck and all that.”

“Our friendship is much too thick for us to worry about such things.”

He’d supported her through uni after Deirdre’s shocking death. With her sister gone, Felicia had faltered, drowning in grief, and she’d lost her scholarship. Mason had arrived, a knight in a white sedan, brought Chinese takeout, and helped her pick up the pieces of her life. After that, they’d gone from close to inseparable.

Now all that stood between them and a comfortable tomorrow was a short jaunt up the aisle in the windowed chapel overlooking the Duke of Hurstgrove’s extensive garden, and an exchange of vows as the New Year rang in. In theory, a piece of cake.

But what if things weren’t that simple?

“We are very close.” Mason squeezed her hand, his gaze direct—disconcertingly so. “Full house, by the way.”

Felicia groaned, withdrawing her hand and pressing it to her stomach. “I’m so nervous.”

He tensed. “About marrying me?”

She shouldn’t be. Good looking, good family, good salary. Her parents, had they lived, would have approved of everything about tonight, even down to the Alita Graham gown. Its modest elegance and the satin ribbon about her waist hinted of a bygone era that fit the wedding’s historic location. The three-quarter sleeves suited the late December date. But she couldn’t stop wondering if committing herself, even to her best friend, was really a good idea. After what Deirdre had endured, what if she was making a mistake?

No. It was just nerves and sorrow. She had to put them
behind her.

“About tripping!” She forced a grin. “This train will likely be the death of me. Why didn’t we elope?”

Mason relaxed and grinned. “Because Simon shows no signs of marrying soon, and my mother wanted at least one wedding to organize. Don’t worry. You’ll be brilliant.”

As he gave her one of those lazy smiles she knew had helped him shag his way through uni, she thanked God it didn’t impact her. Then she realized that he wasn’t heading toward the door. Instead, he sauntered closer to her, and something in his eyes warmed, darkening in a way she’d never seen.

“Stop frowning, darling. You’ll be fine.
We’ll
be fine.” The suddenly deep tone of his whisper shivered down her spine.

That I’ve-had-a-night-of-rough-sex voice was Mason’s?

Her eyes widened. Dread flared as he raised a brow and leaned closer, wearing a determined expression. Frozen, she watched as he raised his palm to her jaw, cradling it. She tried to inch back, but Mason’s fingers curled around her nape, staying her. His mouth hovered above hers, his eyes growing sharp with desire.

Oh God!
This wasn’t what they’d agreed to. This was exactly what she’d feared about marrying him—changing everything. Ruining their friendship.

“Mason, stop. What are you—”

“Shh.” He leaned even closer, so close the scent of his aftershave bombarded her. His smooth-shaven cheek caressed her own. Then he pressed his lips to her jaw.

Mason had kissed her many times. Hello. Good-bye. Always a friendly peck. Never had his lips lingered, seduced. As if he
wanted
her.

Felicia sucked in a breath, her heart pumping wildly in panic.

He desired her, after all these years? Yes, logically she’d known they would share a bed eventually once married. They both wanted children, after all. But she’d imagined even sex would be friendly, fun, never seductive or hungry, like Mason’s expression suggested now.

Firm lips feathered their way across her cheek. His breathing turned uneven. Felicia tensed. Anxiety and confusion raced through her blood, chilling her. He urged her closer … to his mouth.

Felicia started to protest when he silenced her with a firm press of his lips. Everything inside her froze. For the sake of their marriage, she tried to relax.

With a groan, Mason urged her lips apart. Slowly, he dipped inside, cajoling her with a sweep of lips, a slide of tongue. An embrace of passion. The kiss of a lover.

Never in a million years had she thought Mason felt any true desire for her. The sense of security she’d always felt with him suddenly disappeared, yanked out from under her minutes before their wedding. Relaxing into his kiss was impossible.

She wrenched away and gaped at him, so many thoughts and conflicting feelings bombarding her that she hardly knew where to start.

Mason’s breath was choppy. His hands shook. Desire flushed his cheeks as he pressed his forehead against hers. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time.”

Seriously?

Yes.

All her life, she’d had the uncanny ability to sense lies. For her, they had an acrid smell that made her slightly queasy. No terrible scent lingered to indicate that Mason had been anything but bluntly honest.

Felicia recoiled.

“This isn’t what we discussed. We’re … friends, Mason,” she cried as she tried to pull away, form a coherent reply. “We’ve always been friends. I … I—”

“We will always be friends. But we’re about to be more. I’m sorry if that was too much, too suddenly. We have our whole lives to be together. I won’t push you, darling. I know how you feel about love after what happened to Deirdre. But you’re no more like her than I am like that bastard she fell for. Let yourself fall in love with me, Felicia.” He cupped her shoulders in his hands and stared right into her eyes. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

Anger, as fast and hot as lightning, thawed her chill. The last thing she wanted to do today was talk about Alexei, the scum who had destroyed her sister. The fact Mason had even mentioned falling in love ten minutes before she pledged her life to him, when Deirdre weighed so heavily on her heart, ratcheted up her fury—and her fear.

“No. We are
friends,”
she insisted.

“We still are. But Felicia, we’re about to become spouses, as well.” He caressed her cheek. “I should be able to tell you that I love you.”

Felicia’s heart stopped. He
love-loved
her? She sniffed, praying to scent his lie. Nothing but the slight burn of gas from the furnace. Even without her unusual gift, one look in his melting chocolate eyes told her the answer.