Embrace Me At Dawn (56 page)

“
What the hell do you want? Say it and be gone,” Marrok
demanded, striding to his room to snatch a fresh T-shirt
and
old jeans out of a drawer. Then he trekked across the hall to
his bathroom.

Bram followed, lingering outside after Marrok slammed
the door in his face.

After donning fresh clothes, he turned to a mirror and
slid a brush through his dark hair. Ancient eyes stared back
at him, filled with misery, anger, and thwarted lust. He
did
look like hell.

“
To talk to you,” Bram said through the door. “You know
that only something gravely important could bring me to the
Creepified Forest.”

“
Important to magickind.” Not necessarily important to
him.

“
Since I’m the only friend you have, it’s important to you,

as well.”

“
I have no friends.” Marrok pictured Bram gritting his
teeth. He smiled.

“
All right, then. I am the only living being who knows of
your immortality and still speaks to you.”

Marrok grunted and reached for his toothbrush. “I am not
interested. I must hunt.”

“
The local market too civilized for your Dark Ages upbringing?”

Marrok wrenched open the bathroom door, staring at
Bram as if he were a bloodsucking insect. “Is magickind so
starved for a comedian that you suffice?”

Bram sighed. “I really have come for a reason.”

Though the wizard loved to antagonize him, Marrok knew
the darling of magickind would not visit without cause.

“
You will only pester me until I give in. Why are you here?”

“
Because I’ve had a vision.”

Vision. Being in the same room with anything or anyone
magical was enough to give him hives. Having Bram around
was like a permanent case of leprosy. “Why tell me? You
must have a magical healer for this sort of thing.”

“
Because when it comes true, it will involve you.”

“
I involve myself in nothing.” He shouldered past Bram
and headed for the kitchen.

“
And all of magickind knows it. Ever heard of the Book
of Doomsday?”

“
Nay.”

“
It’s also called the Doomsday Diary.”

His uninvited guest placed his hand on Marrok’s shoulder.
Immediately, he sensed a tightening under his forehead, then
between the temples. Bloody hell, the bastard was trying to
sneak into his thoughts. Marrok jerked away and slammed a
mental door between them.

Bram reared back in surprise, speculation on his face.
Clearly, humans were often unable to block him from their
minds. But Marrok hadn’t survived half of forever without
learning a few tricks.

“
Never have I heard of the accursed book by either name.
Do not touch me or attempt to invade my head again, or I
will slice you in two.”

“
It would be amusing for you to try, human.” The wizard
snorted. “You’ve never seen the book? It’s red with gilt inlays,
and is small, ornate, and very old.”

That sounded like
. . . Marrok shoved the thought away, lest
Bram read it. No reason to add fuel to his fire.

“
You
do
know something.” Excitement revved up Bram’s
face. “All magickind knows of the Book of Doomsday. It’s
part of our folklore. I thought you might know of the book
because it was created by my grandfather’s nemesis.”

“
I did not know Merlin well. Why should I know of his
enemies?”

“
Well, Morganna was your lover.”

Marrok grimaced. “You have confused a one-time
sating
of lust with a real bond.”

“
She’s the reason you’re immortal. She cursed you with
the book, didn’t she?”

By hell’s fire, how could Bram know that
? “I know naught
of it.”

“
You’re lying.”

“
Shove off!” Marrok stomped to the door, opened it, and
gestured with a wave.

“
A moment more . . .” The wizard sent him a sober stare.
“I want to share my vision with you.”

“
Of ?”

“
The future. Watch.”

“
Keep your visions to yourself, you droning codpiece.”

Bram ignored him, grabbed his arm, and waved a hand in
front of his face. A picture appeared before Marrok’s eyes.
He fell into it, unable to back away.

Nighttime. A darkened home, once sprawling and lovely,
now decayed. A small mass of people walked toward it. Some
were clad in gray robes trimmed in red. Others wore normal
dress and oddly vacant stares.

Intrigued against his will, Marrok peered closer, then
reeled back in shock. The people in robes dragged the others
toward the house with ropes about their necks. The air of
excitement surrounding the berobed was palpable.

“
Who are the people dressed like friars?” he asked.

“
Definitely not clergy. They’re part of the Anarki.”

Marrok flinched. Even in his isolation, he’d known of
the chaos and fear they created in their rise to power two
centuries ago.

Once inside the run-down
manor, a man in robes waited in
an empty room, surrounded by a circle of flickering candles.
His face obscured, he hovered over the still body of a naked
man who, if human, looked to be about thirty.

“
Who lies there?” Marrok asked Bram.

“
Mathias d’Arc.”

Even a seasoned warrior like Marrok shuddered at the
name. Mathias was the magical equivalent of Genghis Khan,
Caligula, Vlad Dracula, and Hannibal Lecter rolled into
one. Cruel, clever, hedonistic, rapacious. Brilliantly evil. A
wizard of great power and no conscience, Mathias wouldn’t
be happy until everyone in his path was either enslaved or
dead.

“
What are the Anarki about?” Marrok hissed.

“
Watch.”

As the group entered the shadowed room, they formed
a circle around the candles, pushing some of the entranced
people inside, closer to Mathias, who lay still as death.

The robed wizard who had been waiting stood at Mathias’s
head and raised his arms. “We, the Deprived, have
waited centuries for this night. The Privileged will hear our
thunder and feel only terror until they give us all they’ve denied
our kind. Until the ‘Social Order’ laws prohibiting any
with ‘undesirable’ traits and bloodlines from holding vital
positions are dissolved, they will know war and pain and
death. They do not know that we, the faithful, have waited
for salvation. Tonight, our patience will be rewarded.”

A cheer went up from those in robes. The others were
silent.

From a distant part of the house, a clock chimed low and
loud, gong, gong, gong . . . Twelve times. The room seemed to
hold its collective breath. Then silence.
Mathias’s eyes opened wide.
Around him, the candles flickered. His followers gasped.

The ceremony leader knelt, then whispered reverently,

“
You’ve returned!”

“
My faithful Anarki . . .” Mathias’s voice was thin and
strained. “My sleeping draught fooled the Brethren but you
believed in me. They thought me dead?”

“
Very much so,” the first replied.

“
Excellent. Did they all pass into their nextlife?”

“
Within days of your sleep.”

“
Your name?”

“
Zain Denzell.”

TEMPT ME WITH DARKNESS

Continue reading for a brief excerpt for Mine To Hold- On Sale June 5, 2012

MINE TO HOLD

“
Please, just let me go. I know best, really. If you’ll . . . do this for me—”

“
You mean leave you now, just like I did after I touched every inch of your body and got deeper inside you than any man ever has? Leave again simply because you asked me to? Because you think you know best?”

Tyler advanced even closer, and suddenly, the door to his bedroom was at her back. He planted both of his large hands on either side of her head and leaned in. Her heart picked up speed viciously. That woodsy, testosterone-oozing scent swamped Delaney, and her legs trembled beneath her. She flattened herself against the door . . . but Tyler kept coming closer, leaning in, his green gaze darkening, drilling into hers.

“
How well do you think me listening to you worked out last time?” he challenged.

Terribly. Eric had eventually screamed that Tyler slinking off only made him wonder how long they’d been fucking each other. Her protestations otherwise had fallen on completely deaf ears. The positive pregnancy test had been the death knell of their marriage. By then, Tyler had been long gone, and she’d missed him so much.

Delaney closed her eyes. “This is different.”

“
Yeah. It’s worse. Seth could lose you for the rest of his little life.
I
could lose you forever instead of for two years. No. Last time I saw you, I listened to you about everything. This time? It’s my way.”