Darkness Unbound

by Zoe Forward

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Praise for Zoe Forward’s

  Dedication

  Author’s Note:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A word about the author...

  Other Books You Might Enjoy

  Darkness Unbound

  by

  Zoe Forward

  Scimitar Magi Series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Darkness Unbound

  COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Zoe Forward

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Rae Monet, Inc. Design

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Black Rose Edition, 2014

  Print ISBN 978-1-62830-523-4

  Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-524-1

  Scimitar Magi Series

  Published in the United States of America

  Praise for Zoe Forward’s

  Scimitar Magi series

  “DAWN OF A DARK KNIGHT is one of the very few paranormal romances that I have read that I am now hooked on...has just the right amount of love, lust, humor, and ass kicking to make this a paranormal romance that I would be more than willing to read again. In fact, I would even go far enough to say this could be made into a pretty kick ass movie too.”

  ~Books She Reads

  ~*~

  “DAWN OF A DARK KNIGHT by Zoe Forward is an electrifying Paranormal Romance. This is a story of torment, lust, love and bad guys out to rule the world...Excellent read- highly recommend.”

  ~Reviewing Vixens

  ~*~

  FORGOTTEN IN DARKNESS

  “With a fresh new take on paranormal romance Zoe Forward is great...Zoe keeps the story amped up through the entire book in thrilling anticipation and strong character leads...fabulous job...can’t wait to read more in the future!”

  ~BTSeMag

  ~*~

  “Is there anything more delicious than a tattooed band of badass warriors? Zoe Forward might have created the best brotherhood since BDB and Dark-Hunters...this novel is the perfect blend of friendship, love, magic and battle that begs the questions: “More, Ms. Forward?” and “How soon?!?”

  ~In d’Tale Magazine

  Dedication

  To my readers. This one’s for you.

  Author’s Note:

  Glossary of terms after page 310

  Acknowledgments

  Big hugs and thank-yous to…

  My little one for reminding me daily that “everything is awesome.”

  My husband for smiling when I said I wanted to keep my day job and become a writer.

  The ever-amazing Eilidh MacKenzie for saying “Yes!” to this series. And for being my editor extraordinaire, logic-checker, and barometer for common sense.

  My readers and FB supporters (you know who you are…the ones who give me a push of encouragement at just the right time). You guys make this worthwhile.

  My sister’s tough honesty on plot lines and characters.

  And last, but never least, to Mom and Dad.

  Chapter One

  Twelve Years ago.

  “Wanna…you know, get together after your shift?” a cocky, likely congressional intern propositioned with laser gaze on her boobs. Astrid’s modest cleavage rebelled against her waitress uniform’s pushup bra and extra small maroon tee.

  He leered an I’m-the-best-you’ll-ever-get.

  Typical rich brat.

  His four cohorts chuckled at an inside joke. One granted her a pity scan.

  She balanced the tray of five cocktails above her head while scantily clad undergrad girls pushed past toward the pulsating dance floor. Blue overflowed with spring breakers and DC interns looking to score. The heavy bass pulse rocked inside her skull. Good thing she’d downed two ibuprofen tabs about a half hour ago.

  “Anything else I can get you guys right now?” she asked. The guy’s proposal didn’t warrant an answer. She slid the drinks to their owners and scanned for new occupants two tables over, her next job.

  Despite the pulsating strobe lights she recognized her best friend and roommate of three years, since frosh orientation. Sylvia claimed one of the recently vacated seats at the table. A tall guy scooted the other chair close to Sylvia and latched his mouth onto her roommate’s lips. Astrid froze. Her stomach plummeted. That’s my boyfriend! Colin.

  A hand slid across Astrid’s ass. The entitled bastard behind her likely read her unmoving silence as a neon you-betcha sign. She batted away the groping fingers and forced her feet toward them.

  Blue ranked as the top place to be, at least for people her age. The club’s long wait line attested to that, but they knew she worked here on weekends during the semester, especially over spring break.

  She halted within inches of the kissing marathon and forced out, “Hello?”

  The two sprung apart. Neither met her gaze. Colin smoothed a hand over his toned pecs and down the T-shirt she’d given him for his birthday last week. She recalled his thank you—his mouth on hers.

  She pivoted, intent on exiting before waterworks commenced. She slammed into a fellow waitress whose tray of beers sloshed but didn’t spill.

  “Sorry,” Astrid murmured.

  “Hey, Astrid! That wasn’t what it looked like,” Colin yelled behind her.

  A glance behind her confirmed the asshole had stood to follow. She screamed over the ear-splitting bass pulse, “Spare me. I’m already over it.” Liar. She forced a shrug. “You thought we had something special? See you around.”

  She jogged downstairs to the bar’s lower level and to the back hallway where she slid her tray behind one of the ultra-stylized sleek trashcans. A doublewide line of women texting on cell phones while waiting for the bathroom stood between her and the exit. A few scowls greeted her as she squeezed through. She ignored the “Emergency Exit Only” warning, confident alarms wouldn’t trigger, and pushed outside.

  This tenth-floor bar’s emergency evac plan involved a stairwell. She shuffled down eight flights, gripping the railing during her descent. Her vision was cloudy and feet weren’t coordinating at one hundred percent. A sharp left out of the stairwell took her into the deserted lobby of some tech company—a nighttime dead space that she’d discovered a few months ago. She spent her breaks down here studying. Quiet. Alone.

  She ducked into a dark corner near the elevators and squatted next to a dusty fake ficus tree, batting away tears. With a sob she gave in to a why-me pity fest.

  Why had she believed
Colin’s four weeks of love declarations? She thought the past month had been special, even exclusive. Apparently not. Thank God she hadn’t slept with him. Even so, she should tattoo a big L on her forehead. Loser. She groaned at the image of Sylvia lip-locked with Colin. Given her roommate’s history of a new bed partner every few weeks, the girl would no doubt be sharing Colin’s dorm room twin tonight. Maybe this wasn’t their first night together. No, she couldn’t allow her brain to take that journey.

  Prude pinged around in her brain. She needed it to be right before she slept with a guy again.

  The last time she’d slept with a guy—the only time—was three years ago, high school. The soccer team captain chose her. Seconds after a clumsy, painful, back-seat groping, he had his pants zipped, which the prick hadn’t even bothered to remove past his knees, and was history along with the parting shot, “Not bad for your kind.” The non-country club, non-trendy kind.

  When will you learn? Nobody wants you. Her father never showed up when she’d been born. Her mother drug ODed right after she got her driver’s license, and the aunt that grudgingly took her in to finish high school pushed her out with a clear don’t-return the moment she left for college.

  She shook her head, trying to bury those self-destructive thoughts. But right now she was lost in those old emotions. Where’s the one guy out there who wants me for me?

  “Why do you weep?” asked an accented deep baritone.

  Astrid bolted upright, her head spinning from the altitude shift and that masculine voice. She backhanded all moisture off her face and squinted into the dimly lit lobby at her discoverer. With a gasp she took a step back.

  Height was a handicap she battled at close to six feet, but this guy towered over her in a way that put the M in massive. She’d think basketball player, but he wasn’t lithe and leggy. Bulky, chiseled muscle pushed beneath his clothing. Her startled mind couldn’t pinpoint from what century his dark garments originated, but they weren’t modern. Maybe he was an actor from the theater across the street, and still in costume.

  As he stepped out of the shadows, her mind scattered. She placed a hand against her belly, desperate to settle its quake and focus on breathing.

  Had the Nordic god Thor just stepped into her world? Long wavy blond hair and angular features made for a devastating package. Blue zigzag tattoos trekked down his neck. His eyes trapped hers. Their intensity communicated confidence and ferocity, but not cruelty. She recognized the cool stillness of that gaze from the countless drug dealers her mother had brought home. This man was immune to violence. Dangerous. Every flight instinct in her body ordered she bolt.

  “Do you not speak English?” He glanced around as if trying to ascertain what language to try next.

  She stared at the exit, calculating her success on a dodge and flee. “I’m fine.”

  “You are not fine.” He frowned and stepped back.

  “Look, I appreciate the Good Samaritan act, but I don’t need a hero.” She glared her best buzz-off, weighing him as an adversary. She’d lose in a physical battle. Most men she could intimidate into a hasty retreat with her patented I’m-a-bitch stare.

  “I am no hero.” The corners of his lips twitched upward into a sexy smile.

  Except him.

  Her pulse roared through her ears. Fear and an undeniable fascination with the power and danger of this man coalesced. “Great, then I’ll just go back to my peaceful moment. And you go back to not being a hero.”

  “Did not seem so peaceful.” Heat sparkled in his rich blue eyes.

  “This is none of your business.” Adrenaline spiked. She was alone in a dark, deserted lobby with an unknown behemoth. Her urge to flee battled an inexplicable desire to move closer to him. To touch him. What was wrong with her? Was he using some sort of magical compulsion? She mentally rolled her eyes at her own ridiculousness and blamed it on one too many vampire movies. Her focus should be on rape avoidance and escape.

  “Why did you summon me, then?” He glanced around. “Are you in danger? Has someone hurt you?” His hand moved to the hilt of a sword against his back.

  A sword? Her fear ratcheted upward. She squeaked out, “I did not summon you.”

  He dropped his hand from the sword and took another step backward. “You need not fear me. I shall not hurt you.”

  “Are you stalking me? Do you work here?” The creases near his eyes placed him at least a decade beyond undergrad. Maybe he was a role-playing computer tech junkie. Somehow she doubted the computer nerd part. Given his gigantic hands, he’d be lucky to get his name right when typed on a keyboard.

  “I am unsure why I am here. What is this place?” He scanned the lobby, wide-eyed.

  “Are you lost?” She reached out, inexplicably compelled to comfort him.

  “Astrid!” Colin’s voice boomed through the lobby. “Where’d you go? We’re not done, damn it.”

  “Crap,” she muttered, yanking her hand back and glancing down with a wish to melt into the floor.

  Thor look-alike moved close. Her gaze popped up. His hand had moved back to his sword. She reversed until her back hit the wall. His masculine scent rose in the air around her—clean, hardcore male.

  “Is he the one that distressed you? Does he threaten you?” His deep intimate rumble triggered a ripple of chills down her legs.

  Trapped by his laser blues, she couldn’t lie. “I caught him with his tongue down my roommate’s throat. She’s been my best friend for a while, but not anymore. He is…well, was, my boyfriend.” She locked gazes with him, startled to notice his irises swirled. Not possible. She forced herself to blink slowly. A second appraisal of his eyes found no swirling. Was she losing her mind?

  “Boyfriend as in intended? Betrothed?” He ran a finger along her chin, his gaze appreciative.

  Her skin tingled, hypersensitive in the wake of that single finger. She wheezed out, “Not engaged. Boyfriend…no, make that ex-boyfriend.”

  The heat in his gaze made her stomach squeeze. A shiver ran straight to her center. She resisted the urge to pull him closer. You don’t know this guy. What’s wrong with you? Get out of here.

  “Let us show him what he lost.” His hot whisper blew across her cheek. “You are lost to him.”

  She should get her butt into high gear and dodge him. Right now. But her body screamed oh-hell-yeah at the thought of what that husky whisper promised. “You don’t need to do this.”

  “I may not be a hero, but I can be a martyr on occasion.” He flashed an even set of teeth.

  Her body jangled with awareness. He leaned in. His tongue flicked over her lips. Her equilibrium faltered, and she grasped his arm to prevent a floor-ass kiss. What just happened? She should be offended at his audacity. But this was about Colin, right?

  His lips devoured hers, hard and possessive. He sucked her lower lip while his hand plowed into her hair. She stepped into his heat until there was no space between them. Her puckered nipples pressed tight against his rock-hard body. She invaded his mouth. He moaned a low sound. His hips rocked into hers, alerting her that he was more than ready to take this to the next level. They bumped against the wall. Her body shifted into overdrive. She pressed right back and wound her hands in his hair.

  A shriek registered on the periphery of her desire-drugged desperation to have this Nordic god incarnate in any and every way possible.

  The summons intensified. “Astrid! What the hell?”

  She filtered out the noise. The scent of the man kissing her made her lightheaded. The heat radiating from his skin warmed her in ways far more than the lust-fire burning her inside and out. It promised something deeper. Something real. Something she needed to know on a soul-deep level. She craved it.

  He broke away from her lips. She moaned complaint and wound her fist in his soft cotton shirt, tugging for his attention. She thought, Don’t stop.

  His startled gaze collided with hers as if he’d heard her wish. Out loud he asked, “Is he the one?”

  “Whaa…?
Who?” She glanced around, dazed.

  His deep voice echoed in her head. Is this the man who hurt you?

  Startled by the mental question and its viciousness, she turned toward the focus of his inquiry. He couldn’t have spoken in her head. Her brain struggled to identify the fuming guy a few feet away until it finally spit out a name. “Colin?”

  Colin screwed up his face in self-righteous indignation. “How long has this been going on?”

  Still riding the lust high with Thor look-alike’s hard-on pressed tight to her abdomen, she stared at Colin. Her mind slowly repeated Colin’s question. She should rip into the asshole, given he’d been sucking face with Sylvia minutes ago, but her mushy brain zeroed in on Thor lookalike’s freshly kissed lips.

  “She’s mine,” the gladiator declared before attacking her mouth once again. She sighed in relief.

  ****

  My God, what she had just done was unthinkable. Yet it had happened. She wasn’t sorry, only shocked. She blinked at the red light of her digital bedside clock. One hour until dawn. She had conked out for almost four hours. Had she really ditched work, brought a stranger into her dorm room, and done all those wild things with him? She felt around her twin bed for him. Zannis. Last she remembered he’d been wrapped around her. Naked.

  She popped upright to a sit. He left without so much as a good-bye? She flipped on the lights. No note. Not even a hint that he’d been there remained other than the aches in her body. Those aches reminded her of all the highs he’d taken her to last night. While they’d been together she had forgotten her problems. She had forgotten everything other than him. He erased her loneliness and answered her desperate need to belong. She’d never given credence to the fantasy of a Mister Right. Until now.