The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance 2

by Trisha Telep

  She sat on a wooden bench under the trailing branches of a weeping willow where she had spent blissful afternoons with Christian and stared at the rippling water.

  Two days ago, her main concern had been the cost of her mortgage. Now her home was probably a burnt-out shell containing the debris of her worldly possessions. Tears glazed her eyes and she blinked them away. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. When she returned to the chateau, she would make a list of everyone she needed to call to sort out the disaster her life had become.

  A blast of chilly wind stirred goose bumps on her skin. Ten feet away a dark rent opened in the air and a man stepped out. She recoiled, then slithered off the side of the bench and crawled behind it.

  The man’s intimidating blue gaze fixed on her, but she took a moment to identify him as the Duke of Buckland. Gone were the trappings of modern man; instead, he paced towards her clothed like an ancient warrior out of a fantasy film. Wide bands of gold bearing Egyptian symbols enclosed the bulging muscles of his biceps and his forearms. Gleaming plates of armour protected his torso, the breastplate decorated with a blue, jewel-studded image of the eye of Horus. His powerful thighs flexed beneath a short armoured skirt. In one hand, he held a wicked curved blade dripping blue fire, while in the other he held the sceptre that he’d used to melt the ben ben at the Institute of Art.

  “Where’s Lefevre?” he demanded.

  She cowered behind the bench, staring at him with a stunned sense of unreality.

  He halted when he reached her. “The bloody fool hasn’t claimed you yet. He’s had his chance. Now you’re mine.”

  He tossed the curved blade aside. A small rip parted in the air and swallowed the weapon. While she was staring at the spot where the blade had disappeared, his hand closed around her wrist and he pulled her to her feet.

  Sense rushed back in a panicked burst of adrenaline. She yanked against his grip. “No. It’s my fault. I didn’t let him.”

  “You shouldn’t have a choice.”

  “I love him.”

  The duke paused and his jaw tightened. His blue eyes narrowed on her face. For the first time she had the sense that he saw her rather than simply a woman with the right genes. His breath hissed out in a frustrated rush and he released her. “Love is not enough in our world. You’re in danger because he hasn’t done his duty by you.”

  He stepped back and raised his arm. The curved blade reappeared in his hand.

  “Tricia!” Christian’s worried shout came from between the rows of vines. A moment later, he ran up and pulled her into his arms.

  “Claim her now , Lefevre. Then next time you’ll be able to find your woman before I can.”

  “I didn’t want the claiming to be hurried like this,” Christian framed her face in his hands.

  A blast of arctic air whistled around them, dragging at her skirt and hair.

  “Merde.” Christian pivoted to face the direction of the wind, pushing her behind him.

  “Too late, you bloody fool,” the duke bit out with a scathing sideways glance.

  Christian’s trousers and shirt melted to be replaced by garb similar to the duke’s. His biceps bunched beneath thick golden bands as he raised his arms. A curved blade and sceptre appeared in his hands.

  Twenty feet away, a hole opened in the air sending the temperature plummeting. With a terrifying howl, a sinewy dog-shaped beast the size of a horse bounded out of the ether. The creature crouched, muscles tensed, claws raking the dirt. Saliva dripped from wickedly sharp canines as its lips drew back on a growl. Tricia’s teeth chattered and she stumbled back against the trunk of the willow tree.

  “Anubis,” Christian whispered, his tone thick with disbelief.

  Tricia pressed a hand over her mouth. She recognized the black jackal form of the Egyptian god from ancient drawings. But it couldn’t be real; it couldn’t be hunting her.

  “Take her to safety and claim her now,” the duke barked.

  “You won’t be able to tackle Anubis alone. Call the others,” Christian replied.

  “One of them will take your woman.”

  “No they bloody well won’t.”

  The duke cut Christian an oblique look. “Your call, Lefevre. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  The duke sketched a string of Egyptian hieroglyphs with the top of his sceptre, leaving a pattern of blue fire hanging in the air. He spoke a couple of sentences she didn’t understand and the symbols melted away.

  Anubis sprang at her with a blood-curdling growl. Christian and the duke pointed their sceptres at the beast and streams of green and blue fire poured over its head. But the creature kept coming. Christian stepped back, shielding her with his body while the duke charged forwards and hacked at Anubis’ neck with his blade. An arc of dark blood splattered across the sunbaked earth between the rows of grapevines. The animal pulled back, flickers of blue fire sizzling in the wound.

  Tricia huddled between the tree and Christian, wishing she was anywhere on Earth but there. Cold blasted her and other men appeared, four, five; she lost count. She retreated behind the tree and watched from behind the trunk while the riverbank became a battleground. Anubis was bloodied and weakened but he kept trying to reach her. The Sons of Ra surrounded the beast, striking it with their blades and blasting it with fire from their sceptres. Mingled with Christian’s green fire and the duke’s blue were flaming streams of gold, turquoise, red and purple.

  Angry words ricocheted back and forth between the men as they fought. Although she couldn’t understand everything the men said, they were obviously angry with Christian.

  She was wondering if she should make a dash for the chateau when she sensed the air behind become heavy and still. Warily, she turned her head and gasped.

  Six

  A tall Egyptian man stood a few yards away. His long black hair was tied back, framing the classic perfection of his bronzed features. Deep brown eyes outlined with black and turquoise narrowed on her. Gold glittered at his ears and jewels sparkled on every finger. A heavy gold torque set with turquoise and rubies glinted at his throat. He wasn’t dressed like the Sons of Ra, instead a midnight blue robe decorated with gold hieroglyphs hung from his broad shoulders, fastened with a sash around his narrow hips.

  She rose, keeping her back to the tree trunk, acutely aware of the sounds of battle from the other side of the tree.

  The weight of his gaze pressed against her like a physical force. Some primeval instinct warned her that this man was as dangerous as the slavering monster Christian and the other men were fighting.

  The man’s nostrils flared. Deep, commanding words fell from his lips like the rumble of distant thunder. Her pulse raced and her breath shortened. But she couldn’t answer. She had no idea what he’d said.

  She risked a glance around the tree and called out to Christian. He must have heard the note of panic in her voice because he broke away from the other men and ran towards her. She expected him to leap in front of her protectively as he had done before. Instead, the moment he saw the man, he went down on one knee.

  “Down,” he whispered. “Kneel down.”

  A few days earlier, she’d have refused. She had thought nobody deserved such veneration. Strange how the threat of death altered one’s beliefs. She crouched slowly and put one knee to the dry dirt, keeping the man in view through her lashes.

  “Is he on our side?” she asked under her breath.

  “Sometimes.”

  The man spoke again in a voice that resonated with the rise and fall of civilizations.

  Christian answered before interpreting for her. “He wants to know why we’re fighting Anubis.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Runihura, the destroyer of gods.”

  “Never heard of him.” But with a name like that, she thought she should have.

  “Think of him as a powerful, immortal policeman.” Christian shuffled closer to her while the other Sons of Ra joined them on their knees. Tricia glanced around anxiously but there wa
s no sign of Anubis.

  She turned back to find Runihura’s fathomless dark gaze on her. A warm wind stirred her hair and the scent of the desert swirled around her. He beckoned to her. At Christian’s nod of encouragement, she rose cautiously and stepped forward. The aura of power surrounding the Egyptian prickled her skin.

  “You are the source of this conflict,” he proclaimed in his epic voice.

  Great! Someone had burned down her home and tried to incinerate her; a giant dog that shouldn’t even exist had attacked her and this misogynistic immortal wanted to blame her.

  “It’s not my fault if I have a gene that makes Anubis want to kill me.”

  Runihura flicked a hand at her in a gesture that clearly said women should be seen and not heard. “Who claims this woman?” he demanded.

  Christian rose. Tricia’s gaze jumped to the Duke of Buckland, tension gripping her throat. His eyes flicked up to her but he didn’t rise as she’d expected, instead he remained on his knee, the only movement his shoulders rising and falling as he caught his breath. Had the duke relinquished his claim to her because he knew she loved Christian? Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.

  Her sigh of relief whispered over her lips a moment too soon. The golden-skinned Son of Ra with the red fire stepped up on her other side, his dark brown eyes glinting with golden flame. “I would have this woman for my family.”

  Christian rounded on him. Suddenly the curved blade was back in his hand, spitting green sparks. “She belongs to me, Luca.”

  He didn’t say, “I love her” or even “I need her”. This was all about staking his claim on something valuable. Feelings didn’t come into it. Certainly not her feelings.

  “I don’t want to be claimed by any of you,” she snapped.

  Runihura’s gaze drilled into her, dragging every scrap of her attention to him. Against her will, she took a stumbling step towards him, followed by another.

  Her insides quivered as eddies of hot air raced around her. The sound of Christian’s shouts faded.

  “Please . . .” Don’t hurt me. Words circled in her head but her mouth wouldn’t obey.

  A ball of pure white fire flared in Runihura’s cupped palm. She tried to raise her arm to protect her face, but her muscles didn’t respond. He lifted his hand and dropped the fiery sphere on to the top of her head. Her pulse raced as a shroud of glittering white sparks cascaded over her and penetrated her skin.

  Her rush of panic faded as the fire whispered through her with a silky caress. She swayed and her breath hissed out on a little moan of pleasure. On the edge of perception, she heard Christian’s angry shout and a scuffle. She didn’t remember closing her eyes, but when she opened them, the Duke of Buckland and a golden-haired Son of Ra were holding Christian down on his knees as he scowled up at Runihura.

  The immortal stared at her for a moment, flickers of white fire dancing across his golden skin. “You are protected,” he said. Then he stepped back and disappeared. No blast of cold or rips in the air, just there one moment, gone the next.

  A string of French curses rent the air as the two men released Christian.

  “I warned you that another would claim her,” the duke said.

  “This is your fault,” Christian pointed at Luca, the man who’d challenged him for her. But if he wanted a fight, he was out of luck. Luca shrugged, then stepped back into the ether and disappeared.

  The other Sons of Ra departed, including the duke, leaving her and Christian alone. The sudden silence and peace seemed unnatural after the terror and noise of battle.

  Christian’s strange garb shimmered. She blinked and he was clothed in a pair of tan trousers and a blue shirt. He walked away from her and dropped down on the bench where she’d been waiting for him before Anubis attacked.

  His gaze ran over her incredulously. “He renewed you so fast.” He snapped his fingers. “Twenty years gone in a second.”

  “What?” Tricia touched her face. The skin felt smoother. The twinge in her knee had vanished. “My god, are you saying he’s knocked twenty years off me?”

  “I would have done this for you, mon amour. If only you’d let me.”

  Her pleasure at her newfound youthfulness faded at the look of desolation on his face. If she hadn’t rejected him last night, he’d have already claimed her. There would have been no need for Runihura to bathe her in his fire. Part of her regretted hurting Christian, but another part was relieved that she wasn’t his property. Twenty-two years ago, the blind devotion of teenaged love would have made her give up everything to be with him, but she’d have felt trapped in such a relationship.

  “I still want to be with you, only now it’s my choice. Isn’t that better?”

  “You don’t understand, Tricia. You belong to Runihura. I can never touch you again.”

  “You don’t seriously believe he wants me?” She snorted at the idea. “He was simply protecting me so I didn’t cause him any more trouble.” And giving her the freedom to choose her own man. Maybe Runihura wasn’t such a misogynist after all.

  She sat beside Christian on the bench and reached for his hand. He snatched his arm clear and jumped up. “Don’t! The pain is excruciating.”

  The blood drained out of her head as understanding dawned. “It’ll hurt for us to touch?”

  “Of course. Didn’t you listen to me?”

  “No, you . . .” Her words trailed away when she remembered what he’d told her the previous night. You’ll be marked as mine, untouchable by any others of my kind. She hadn’t understood he’d meant it literally.

  “Have you ever tried to touch a woman claimed by another Son of Ra?”

  His angry gaze snapped to her face. “That is forbidden.”

  “Then how do you know it’s true?”

  His breath rushed out in irritation. “Luca touched my countess when he tried to save her life. They both suffered for his noble act.”

  His countess? “What happened to her?”

  “She lost her head to Madame Guillotine.” Christian pivoted away from her and paced to the river. That must have been the woman he’d mentioned the previous night. Tricia pressed her temples, feeling rotten. Had Runihura bathed her in fire as punishment for defying their customs, knowing it would prevent her from touching Christian again? She hadn’t sensed anger in the Egyptian.

  “Runihura isn’t a Son of Ra, is he?” she asked, thinking aloud.

  For long moments, Christian didn’t answer. Then he swung around with a frown. “No. He’s one of the old ones.”

  “Perhaps his fire’s different. He summoned it as a ball in his hand rather than from the end of a sceptre.”

  Christian shook his head but the tension on his face had faded and a spark of hope lit his eyes. He came to stand before her and held out a finger. “One fingertip only.”

  She swallowed, spooked by the talk of excruciating pain. Her finger hovered in the air a fraction from his. He closed the distance. As their skin touched, a sound like distant wind whistled in her ears. A rushing sensation flowed through her body. White fire burst from her fingertip and engulfed Christian’s arm.

  She squeaked with surprise and yanked her hand back.

  “Tricia, are you all right, mon amour?” Christian dropped to a crouch before her, his face a mask of concern.

  “It didn’t hurt,” she assured him, embarrassed that she’d made such a fuss.

  “When you cried out, I thought you were in pain.” Christian levered himself on to the bench beside her. Before she had time to think, he pulled her into his embrace; his lips pressed against hers. The rushing feeling gradually eased until it was no more than a gentle tickle across her senses. Christian pulled back, blinking in astonishment. Flickers of white fire danced all over him. “I’ve never seen the like. Runihura did more than protect you; he’s given you fire that eclipses mine.”

  Tricia stared at him, totally nonplussed. “Why?”

  Christian shrugged. “He moves in mysterious ways. What matters is tha
t I can touch you; we can be together.”

  He pulled her on to his lap and nuzzled her neck. Tricia giggled at the sudden release of tension. She held out her hand to see if she could summon fire. Instead, a curved dagger with a mother-of-pearl handle appeared on her palm, white fire skating along the blade. She dropped the knife in shock and it disappeared again. “Good gracious, what does Runihura expect me to do with that?”

  Christian rubbed his thumb over her lips and flickers of sparkling white fire danced between them, tingling against her skin.

  “We have the rest of our lives to find out, mon amour.”

  Eve of Warfare

  A Marked Story

  S.J. Day

  “By warfare and exile you contend with her.”

  – Isaiah 27:8

  One

  “You want me to babysit cupid?” Evangeline Hollis’ 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.”