by Sylvia Day
Praise for Sylvia Day
“You know you’re in for a good book when other authors—and I mean LOTS of other authors—recommend it.”
—USA Today
“A page-turner!”
—Access Hollywood Live
“Glamorous people, swanky settings, steamy sex, and passionate married love make this a heartwarming, gratifying conclusion to the series.”
—Publishers Weekly
“[A] highly charged story that flows and hits the mark.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Will have you furiously flipping pages.”
—Glamour
“Sophisticated, engaging, clever and sweet.”
—The Irish Independent
“Superb writing . . . I can’t wait to see what Day does next!”
—RT Book Reviews
“When it comes to brewing up scorchingly hot sexual chemistry, Day has few literary rivals.”
—Booklist
“Day writes indulgent fantasy at its most enjoyable, in a story populated by high-society beauties and rakes, all of them hiding dark passions and darker secrets behind their glittering facades.”
—Shelf Awareness
“This bold, erotic tale of passion and revenge features a cast of colorful characters and a complex and intriguing plot.”
—Library Journal
Other Books by Sylvia Day
Contemporary Romance
The Crossfire® Saga
Bared to You
Reflected in You
Entwined with You
Captivated by You
One with You
The Jax & Gia Series
Afterburn/Aftershock
Paranormal Romance
The Renegade Angels Series
A Dark Kiss of Rapture
A Touch of Crimson
A Caress of Wings
A Hunger So Wild
The Dream Guardians Series
Pleasures of the Night
Heat of the Night
Historical Romance
The Georgian Series
Ask for It
Passion for the Game
A Passion for Him
Don’t Tempt Me
Urban Fantasy
The Marked Series
Eve of Darkness
Eve of Destruction
Eve of Chaos
Eve of Warfare
Eve of Sin City
Single Titles
The Stranger I Married
Seven Years to Sin
Pride and Pleasure
In the Flesh
Omnibus
Spellbound
Scandalous Liaisons
Love Affairs
Novellas
The Shadow Stalkers Miniseries
Razor’s Edge
Taking the Heat
Blood & Roses
On Fire
The Carnal Thirst Series
Misled
Kiss of the Night
Butterfly in Frost
All Revved Up
“Mischief and the Marquess” in Perfect Kisses
“Hard to Breathe” in Premiere
This anthology is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writers’ imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
MARKED: EVE OF WARFARE and EVE OF SIN CITY
Copyright © 2010 by Sylvia Day
"Eve of Warfare" © 2010 by Sylvia Day
"Eve of Sin City" © 2010 by Sylvia Day
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this anthology may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-62650-999-3
"Eve of Warfare" Edited by Trisha Telep.
"Eve of Sin City" Edited by Melissa Ann Singer.
Cover design by Croco Designs.
Interior design/eBook Production by VMC Art & Design, LLC.
Published by Sylvia Day, LLC
5130 S. Fort Apache Rd., Ste. #215-447
Las Vegas, NV 89148
www.SylviaDay.com
TABLE OF CONTENTS
EVE OF WARFARE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
EVE OF SIN CITY
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
“By warfare and exile you contend with her.”
—Isaiah 27:8
CHAPTER 1
“You want me to babysit cupid?” Evangeline Hollis’s fingertips drummed against the wooden arms of her chair. “You can’t be serious.”
“That is not what I said, Miss Hollis.”
Raguel Gadara’s reply was laced with the compelling resonance unique to archangels. He sat behind his intricately carved mahogany desk in his expansive office with a leisurely sprawl that didn’t fool Eve for a minute. Gadara was watching her like a hawk from beneath slumberous lowered eyelids.
From her seat in one of two brown leather chairs that faced him, Eve raised both brows in a silent prompt for him to explain. The eternal fire crackling in the fireplace to her left and the portrait of the Last Supper decorating the space above the mantel were tangible reminders that her formerly agnostic view of the world was shattered forever.
Her secular world was behind her, displayed to breathtaking effect by the wall of windows overlooking Harbor Boulevard. Gadara Tower sat a few blocks south of Disneyland and California Adventure, just outside the city zoning that ensured no skyrises were visible from inside the amusement parks.
“I said ‘cherub’,” the archangel reiterated. As he leaned back in his chair, the diamond stud in his right ear caught the light. “We received a report of suspicious activity in San Diego. Zaphiel has been sent to address it and requires an escort.”
Eve’s guard went up. Raguel’s job on earth was to manage the infestation of Infernals in North America. Why would a cherub intercede? And why wasn’t Raguel more upset about that? All the archangels were intensely ambitious. It didn’t make sense for him to concede any power to anyone, even an angel of considerably higher rank. “I get that pairing him with me instead of giving him a full contingent of your personal guards sends a message that you’re pissed, but as far as impact goes, it’s more of a ‘meow’ than a ‘roar’.”
“I send no message,” Raguel denied, attempting to look innocent, which was impossible.
“Right.” Diplomacy and showmanship were utilized just as often in the celestial underground as they were in the secular world. The cherubim topped the angelic hierarchy, sharing the first sphere with only the seraphim and ophanim. Exposing such a high level celestial to her bad demon karma was stupid enough to have a really clever motive behind it.
“I asked for you.”
The rumbling masculine voice was dangerously soft. Eve turned her head, knowing a small, childlike figure just didn’t fit that mature voice, but she was still unable to shake the image of a chubby baby with tiny wings and a big diaper.
Catching sight of him, she blinked. Holy shit.
He was massive. Ripped with muscle and terribly beautiful, with eyes of the same blue hue found at the heart of a flame, and golden hair that hung past his shoulders.
Fan-fuckin-t
astic. There was only one reason angels and demons went out of their way to get to her: they wanted to irritate the two men in her seriously screwed up romantic life—Cain and Abel. They went by the names Alec Cain and Reed Abel in present day, but they were the infamous brothers of biblical legend nevertheless.
She glanced at Gadara. “This really isn’t a good idea.”
The archangel smiled. That flash of pearly white teeth within the framework of coffee-dark skin told her he had an ulterior motive for agreeing.
“I have every faith in you,” he said, practically purring.
Oh boy. Not too long ago (back in her old life) working for Gadara Enterprises had been a career dream of hers. Raguel Gadara was a real estate mogul rivaling Donald Trump and Steve Wynn, with property developments all over North America just begging for an interior designer of Eve’s caliber. In reality, however, the dream turned into a nightmare. Her years of interior design education and experience had been relegated to the sidelines of her “real” job: demon bounty hunting.
“Time to go, Evangeline,” Zaphiel said, jerking his head imperiously toward the private elevator that would take them down to the lobby level. The deliberate use of her name cemented the suspicion that she was—yet again—being used as a pawn in a bigger game.
It was a game she didn’t play well; something the cherub would be figuring out soon.
Eve stood. In her former life, she’d be sporting Jimmy Choo stilettos and a svelte pencil skirt. As a Mark—one of thousands of sinners cursed with the Mark of Cain—she was wearing Doc Martens and worn jeans. The thick, straight black hair she’d inherited from her Japanese mother was pulled back in a simple ponytail. Dressing for the job was 24/7; Marks never knew when they’d be called out to vanquish a rogue demon.
She walked to the cherub, expecting him to shift/teleport them to wherever it was he wanted to go, but he just smiled smugly.
“You will drive me,” he pronounced.
“O-kay…” Moving on to the elevator, she pressed the call button.
Within minutes, they were buckling into her red Chrysler 300. When she glanced at him for directions, he told her to drive toward Anaheim Hills. As he spoke, a pair of sunglasses appeared on his face, reminding her that he was yanking her chain by making her drive to their destination.
She pulled out of the shadows of the subterranean parking lot and into the bright Southern California sunshine. Grabbing her Oakley sunglasses from the center console, she put them on.
“Why are you not with Cain?” he asked.
“He’s busy, and I’m babysitting you.”
His lips pursed at the dig. “I am not speaking of the present moment. You are in love with him, yet you are not involved with him romantically.”
She made no effort to deny her feelings. It would have been pointless, considering how pivotal her prior relationship with Alec was to the existing state of the marked system. “It’s too complicated, and none of your business.”
Cain was the original and most bad-assed Mark of them all. He functioned outside the marked system hierarchy as an autonomous hunter taking orders directly from the Almighty. He was a revered and polarizing figure for other Marks, a lofty and undefeated ideal that each of the archangels longed to exploit for their own advancement. Eve’s attachment to Gadara’s firm came with Cain as a bonus. Cain gave the archangel a massive advantage over his fellow firm leaders.
“I could further your cause,” the cherub said. “Cain’s advancement to archangel was only supposed to be temporary.”
Her grip on the steering wheel whitened her knuckles. “Don’t you dare take that promotion away from him and blame it on me! Alec is right where he wants to be.”
“Without you? The archangels are barred from feeling romantic love.”
“I’m sure there’s a reason for that.” Her voice was tight and she made a concerted effort to relax. Zaphiel was rubbing salt in her wounds, knowing damn well that she’d broken things off with Alec because he was no longer capable of loving her the way he used to. He admired her, lusted after her, and was determined to remain faithful to her, but her unreciprocated love was a huge liability to them both. “Killing demons has a high mortality rate, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“That is not why you resist the attraction. Perhaps Abel’s affections are enough to console you?”
She stomped on the breaks. The car behind them lay on the horn and swerved around her with tires squealing.
Don’t let him get to you, Reed Abel warned, his thoughts crossing over the connection that existed between Marks and the mal’akhs—common angels—who meted out their Infernal-hunting assignments. Like the American judicial system, there were bondsmen (the archangels), dispatchers (mal’akhs), and bounty hunters (Marks like her). It was a well-oiled system for the most part. It was her rotten luck that her romantic entanglements with Cain and Abel made her the squeaky wheel.
Easier said than done, she shot back.
Zaphiel is always a prick. Despite the subject matter, Reed’s velvety smooth voice was a delight to hear.
Her not-quite-a-relationship with Alec Cain’s brother was one of the many complexities in her life. Alec had ridden into her life on a Harley when she was almost-eighteen and by the time he left, he’d taken her virginity and her heart. She was still comparing other men to him ten years later when Reed entered her life and branded her with the Mark of Cain. That had been the start of a triangular relationship she’d once thought would be impossible for her. How could she feel so strongly for Reed when she was absolutely certain that Alec was the love of her life?
“I would prefer that you not injure yourself unnecessarily,” Zaphiel said calmly.
Twisting in her seat to face him, she asked with equal calm, “What’s your problem?”
“I have no problem.”
“I’m a single unit. Got it? Not that you need to know, but asking about Cain and Abel is pointless. They’ve got their personal lives, and I have—”
“—none,” he finished.
“Drop it. Now.” Alec was her mentor, her friend, and one of only a handful of people in her marked life whom she trusted to have her best interests at heart. He was an integral, daily part of her life; they shared the same sort of mental connection she had with Reed. Through that bond, she felt the wall inside him that blocked his love from her. It was the worst sort of torture to be linked to him, yet farther apart than they’d ever been.
Smiling, Zaphiel looked forward. “I will say no more.”
With an imperious wave of his hand, he directed her to continue. Eve fumed for the next quarter hour until they began to climb the side of a steep hill. Then her attention was caught by the size and elegance of the mansions they passed on their ascent to the top. The space between homes grew wider until they stopped seeing any at all. The last mile was marked only by the road.
Eventually, they reached a gate that blocked further public access. A guardhouse stood on the right from which a burly male in an athletic suit stepped out. Zaphiel lowered the window and his sunglasses disappeared, revealing his face. Wary recognition shadowed the guard’s features before he stepped back and hit the remote that opened the two heavy wrought iron gates.
The drive up to the main house from that point was at least a half-mile. Security cameras were prominently positioned along the way in gaps of approximately twenty feet. When the manse itself came into view, Eve was so taken by the simplistic beauty of its organic architecture that her foot lifted from the gas pedal and the car decelerated to a gentle rolling stop behind a silver Bentley. The residence scaled the side of the hill in three tiers that boasted wide wrap-around balconies. Distressed wood siding, rock terraces, and exposed wooden beams enabled the house to blend into its surroundings.
Zaphiel exited the car. Eve turned the engine off and jumped out, catching his questioning gaze over the roof.
“I’m going in with you,” she said preemptively. Her interior design sensibilities were sharply engaged by the
cohesiveness between the building and its surroundings. She was eager to examine the interior but more than that, he’d dragged her all the way out here. Maybe having her play chauffeur, followed by irritating her in the car had been the sole reason for that—she wouldn’t put the desire for petty amusements past any angel—but she damn sure wasn’t going to leave empty handed when faced with such an architectural marvel.
“As you wish.” Zaphiel followed her gaze to the two guards flanking the double front doors. Rounding the front of the car, she drew abreast of him and they approached the entrance in tandem.
The door opened before they reached it, revealing a man who stopped Eve in her tracks. Dark hair, caramel skin, and the flame-blue eyes of an upper echelon angel combined to create one hell of a gorgeous male. He stood in his bare-feet, his long legs sheathed in loose-fitting faded jeans, his torso clad in an un-tucked white button-down shirt with rolled up sleeves and an open collar. The casual elegance of his attire only emphasized his unrestrained sexuality. It also said he felt no threat from his visitors, despite the tangible tension now radiating from Zaphiel’s powerful frame.
Eve’s head tilted to the side as her curiosity grew.
Zaphiel spoke first, with a notably harsh edge to his voice. “Adrian.”
“Your interference is unnecessary.”
“Since you just lost your lieutenant, I beg to disagree.”
Adrian stiffened. A haunted look ravaged his handsome features, passing so swiftly Eve wondered if she’d imagined it.
She reevaluated Adrian, looking deeper beneath the elegant exterior. As with Alec, there was a dangerous edge to the man, a sharpness in the way he regarded people that betrayed him as a hunter. But in another respect, he wasn’t like Alec at all. Alec struck like a viper—in and gone before anyone knew it, leaving little evidence behind. Adrian had a far different air about him… a weighted expectancy like the calm before a storm. She suspected there was an aftermath when he unleashed violence, a razing of the landscape that left no doubt he’d been there.
