by Rene Lyons
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s 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.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
512 Forest Lake Drive
Warner Robins, Georgia 31093
The Seraphim: Setheus
Copyright © 2007 by Rene Lyons
Cover by Scott Carpenter
ISBN: 1-59998-537-3
www.samhainpublishing.com
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book 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.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: July 2007
The Seraphim: Setheus
Rene Lyons
Dedication
Laurie, thank you for being my editor and my friend. How is it possible I was blessed with you?
Serena, my days wouldn’t be complete without you in them to complain to. Thank you for putting up with me.
Mandie, as always, you are my saving grace. Congratulations and much love to you and Mark. This one is for you
Chapter One
Bethlehem, New York, 2005
Sabrina Hart glanced discreetly down at her watch.
Seven o’clock.
He’d kept her waiting for almost two hours. Sabrina considered herself a relatively tolerant person, but even she had her limits. Waiting this long without explanation was just plain rude.
If there wasn’t so much riding on her being here, Sabrina would have told the receptionist to extend a message to her boss. In no uncertain terms, she would’ve had the woman tell him where to go and how to get there before Sabrina marched herself right on out of the office.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. Instead, Sabrina had to grit her teeth, swallow her pride and try not to fidget in her chair to get circulation back into her numb ass. Actually, she wasn’t in an office, per se. It was a house. Although calling this place a house was a drastic understatement. It was a mansion. A rambling, spire-tipped Gothic Revival that was just about the eeriest—and most beautiful—house she’d ever seen. Her entire two-bedroom ranch could fit in this wing of the mansion alone. Casting a discreet look around, she admired the room.
It must be nice to have money.
Having money was something she wouldn’t know much about. Struggling to make ends meet seemed to be part of her genetic makeup. Her mother had struggled and that hardship had been passed down to Sabrina.
Though her house was small and a little bit on the weathered side, it was hers. She’d grown up there, and it held all the memories she’d shared with her mother. Sabrina would love to be back there, sweatpants on, feet up on the coffee table, watching television. Not here, stuffed into borrowed clothes, and uncomfortable as hell.
Truth be known, this waiting room wasn’t such a bad place to have spent the last two hours. Although it was incredibly rude to have been kept waiting so long, it beat the hell out of being at work where Bryce often assaulted her with his coffee-breath. The man gave her the creeps, but he was a necessary evil. She’d suffer him if it meant finally gaining answers to a lifetime of questions.
Holding a vastly boring architecture magazine open on her lap, Sabrina looked everywhere but at its pages. She let her gaze travel the room, taking in the plush brown rug covering the floor and the mahogany furniture that decorated the room. A painting she knew to be a Waterhouse hung on one wall and she wondered if it was a replica. Everything about this room was elegant and refined—basically everything she wasn’t.
A young, attractive receptionist sat behind a painfully neat desk, studiously scribbling things down on a stack of papers. She wore her thick blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. The casual look seemed to fit her. It also showed off her delicate-featured face and elegantly long neck. It would have taken Sabrina hours to copy such a look.
The low din of Skid Row whispered from a small radio hidden behind the receptionist’s desk and, more than once, Sabrina was tempted to ask her to turn it up when a good song came on. Unfortunately, that would have been entirely too unprofessional. Directing her attention back to the boring magazine, she realized there were times being a grown-up was a total drag.
Stuffy and uncomfortable, squeezed into her friend’s classic gray suit, Sabrina had considered it a stroke of genius to put on the lacy white camisole underneath. She hoped the age-old ploy of showing some cleavage might loosen up the man she would be interviewing.
Uncrossing and re-crossing her legs in the opposite direction helped to get the blood flowing back into her sleeping left foot. When the pins-and-needles sensation hit, it was an effort to sit still and not show her discomfort. How she longed to kick off the black heels. Sabrina swore they weren’t merely shoes, but medieval torture devices. She’d give her right arm for her sneakers and jeans.
Why hadn’t anyone warned her that pantyhose rode up in the most horrible of places? Even her hair was bound up and confined. She wanted to rip the black clip from her hair and let the brown mass fly free. She had clipped it too tight and it now caused her a splitting headache.
The receptionist looked up from her work and gave her a pleasant smile. It had to be the zillionth such smile the woman had directed at her and Sabrina was about ready to lose her temper. She didn’t like being patronized and she couldn’t stand rudeness. Since she’d come here, she had been forced to endure both.
“It’s already been two hours,” Sabrina said tightly, breaking the relative quiet. The receptionist raised her perfectly plucked brows, obviously hearing the strain in her tone. “He won’t be much longer, will he?”
She shook her pretty blonde head. “No, Miss Hart. He should be with you any minute now.”
So you claimed two hours ago.
That seemed to be the standard answer. After all, it was the only one she’d given the other times Sabrina asked the question over the course of the past couple of hours. Enough was enough—no one was worth being treated so disrespectfully. Did he think she had nothing better to do with her time than waste it sitting here waiting?
True, there wasn’t anything more important than being here, but he didn’t know that. As much as she wanted to leave, she simply couldn’t do that. Not just because Bryce had threatened her, but because she also had reasons of her own for seeking this man out. Sabrina didn’t doubt Bryce would snap her neck if he knew why she worked for him and why she’d readily agreed to come here tonight.
The ringing of the receptionist’s phone interrupted the tension. She picked up the receiver. “Good evening, Mr. Raleigh. Of course, sir.” She replaced the receiver. “You can go in now, Miss Hart.”
Standing, Sabrina had to take a second to stretch out her aching body. Her ass was still numb and pins and needles pained her foot. She adjusted the suit, now wrinkled from hours of sitting. She retrieved her pocketbook, surprised she remembered it lying on the floor next to the chair. She never carried a purse. Everything she needed usually fit in her pockets. Her philosophy was if it didn’t fit in her pockets, she didn’t need it.
There were three doors in the room, one of which she’d entered from. That still left two more. Sabrina pointed to one. “Here?”
The woman smiled politely. “No, Miss Hart, that one.”
Sabrina walked to the other door. She hesitated for only a moment before pushing open the door. She almost expected bats to come flying out at her�
��or some other indication that she was walking into a monster’s lair. Instead, she was met with the warm glow of candlelight, the rich scent of spice and more whisper-soft rock music. Only this music was a bit more up to date than Skid Row. As a matter of fact, “Far Behind” by Candlebox was one of her favorite songs. That she had the same musical interests as him surprised her.
A fire burned in the fireplace. Sabrina was even more surprised to see the painting hanging above it. Of all Dicksee’s work, La Belle Dame Sans Merci was her favorite. Having common interests with Seth Raleigh amazed her.
The huge mahogany desk, complete with impressive computer, dominated the room. A long black leather sofa lined one wall. That, along with a matching chair and low table, made up an elegant sitting area.
But it was the man who stood in the center of the room, seeming to eat up all of the space, who caught—and held—Sabrina’s attention.
Though they were about the same age, something about him seemed ancient. Otherworldly. It chilled her as much as it fascinated her.
He stood well over six feet tall. Glossy black hair hung free around broad shoulders. A white tailored shirt, the top four buttons of which were open, hugged his massive chest. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows to reveal intricate tattoos decorating his right forearm. His arms were heavily muscled and she wondered if the legs hidden beneath those black pants were just as solid.
Finely chiseled features made up an incredibly handsome face. Two eerie black eyes peeked out from beneath long sooty lashes. The weight of his intense stare was almost unbearable. He seemed to see right through her, as if he peered into the very depths of her soul.
Sabrina’s heart hammered against her ribcage. She shifted in her uncomfortable shoes, suddenly hot. It felt as if the air in the room had risen ten degrees. Plain and simple—he flustered her.
“Are you all right, Miss Hart?”
All right? Oh God, no. She was far from “all right”. In fact, never had she been so turned on by anything more than the mere sight of this man.
It didn’t help things that, if sex had a specific sound, it would be Seth Raleigh’s deep and resonating voice. How had she thought she could waltz into his world and remain indifferent to him? How had she thought to be any match for a man who was no mere man at all?
“I’m fine.” How she managed that lie without choking on her words, Sabrina didn’t know.
“Yes, you are.”
Sabrina managed to snap her jaw closed after it dropped open at his remark. “Excuse me?”
Raleigh stalked over to her. His natural grace was impressive, especially given his size. The closer he got, the paler Sabrina could see he was. In fact, he looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in years. What skin showed was smooth and perfect. Her hands seemed to grow a mind of their own and she had to fight her body to keep from touching him.
“You heard me perfectly, Sabrina.” Spoken by him, her name sounded beautiful.
He leaned toward her and she detected the wonderful aroma of spice that clung to him. The raw power he exuded made her feel almost intoxicated. His grin drew her gaze to his lips. She wondered what his mouth would feel like on hers. That thought led to others, which brought about an ache between her legs to go with the heat still flowing through her.
Sabrina heard Seth’s deep inhale, followed by a growl that resonated from deep within him. The sound was sexy as hell.
Seth leaned in closer, giving Sabrina a clear peek down his shirt. She had a tantalizing view of a large tribal tattoo over his ribcage. It snaked its way up and over his shoulder. It took everything she had not to tear the shirt from him to get a better look at the artwork—and the gorgeous body it was tattooed onto.
As much as Sabrina liked having Seth this close to her, her reaction was extremely inappropriate. Besides, she couldn’t think. Not one coherent thought formed in her muddled brain. As if he anticipated her actions, Seth caught her wrist just as she was about to push him away. His touch was slightly cool, like he’d just come in from the cold. She wondered how that was possible, given how hot she was, but the idea flew right out of her head when Seth’s cheek brushed hers.
“We both know why you’re really here, Sabrina.”
She used her other hand to shove him away. “Good. Then we can cut through the bullshit and get right down to things.”
Seth released her wrist and stepped back—but not too far away. A slow smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “As you wish, Sabrina.” He waved a hand toward the sofa and the chair. “Please, have a seat so we can begin this…interview.”
From the way he said that, Raleigh seemed to know this was no interview, but the interrogation it was intended to be.
Sabrina walked over to the chair on legs that shook from the force of her desire for Seth. She had to adjust her skirt after she sat, painfully aware of how Seth watched her every move. She placed the pocketbook at her feet, resisting the urge to kick it. She was too much of a tomboy for a pocketbook and heels.
She admired the way Raleigh moved when he sat on the sofa. He leaned back, extending his legs and crossing them at the ankle. He clasped his hands behind his head.
It was a very relaxed pose. She wished she could be as laid-back. Instead, a riot of thoughts and emotions ran rampant through her.
“I apologize, Sabrina It wasn’t my intention to keep you waiting for so long. Unfortunately, it was unavoidable.”
Sabrina was impressed. She hadn’t expected an apology from him. “It wasn’t a problem. Really.”
What he’d done to her just a moment ago was a problem. Or rather, her reaction to him was the problem. How was she supposed to conduct any sort of interview with him if all she could think about was dragging him back toward her and kissing him?
“So, Sabrina, what will you have of me?”
Now that was a loaded question if she’d ever heard one. By the mischievous glint in his eyes, he’d planned that question and executed it with perfection. Sabrina wasn’t about to play games with him. Honestly, she didn’t think she’d be able to outplay him even if she tried.
She leaned forward and rested her hands on her legs. “I’m not going to beat around the bush, Mr. Raleigh…”
“Seth.”
“Fine. Seth,” she repeated. “Since you said you know why I’m here, I’ll come right out and ask. Do you have the stone?”
“How very direct.” One black brow cocked and a grin revealed perfect white teeth. “You and I are going to get along just fine, Sabrina.”
Her head was really starting to pound. Her hand actually itched to tear the damn clip out of her hair. She wanted to get this over with and get the hell out of there before she crawled onto Seth’s lap and gave in to the need to bury her hands in his thick hair.
“I don’t want to get along with you, Mr. Raleigh—Seth—I just want to know if you have Hakion’s Stone.”
That was a lie and, from Seth’s cynical look, he knew it. She was sure he could sense her reaction to him.
For just a moment, Seth looked taken aback. But a mask of indifference descended over his features quickly, and Sabrina thought she might have imagined his fleeting look of surprise. After all, given how flustered she was, and how her thoughts were on sex and not the real reason she’d come, it was entirely possible her mind had played a trick on her.
“Do you think I have it, Sabrina?”
She pointedly ignored the way he practically purred the words. She knew he was not referring to his sex appeal—which he had in spades. “It doesn’t matter what I think. The bottom line is Bryce Mathers does. He wants it and he’s willing to pay you top dollar to have it.”
He contemplated her words for a moment. “Even if I did have it, it wouldn’t be for sale. Not for any price.”
She hadn’t thought it would be.
Hakion’s Stone was a priceless artifact dating back to about five thousand B.C. Of course, as far as Sabrina was concerned, Hakion’s Stone was still just a myth. There was no hard evidenc
e it truly existed. Until she saw it for herself, it was just whispered rumors that drifted down through the ages.
As the legend went, God had picked three of his fiercest warrior-angels to guard the three stones here on Earth. The stones supposedly contained the hearts of three demons. The angels had to fall from Heaven, sacrificing themselves in order to walk the earth and keep the stones.
After her mother died and Sabrina learned of the circumstances of her birth, she set out to learn all she could about the stones. Her search had led her to Bryce Mathers and, in turn, to Seth Raleigh.
Instead of dirtying up his own hands, Mathers, who owned a small and rundown museum, enlisted his most overworked historian to interview—interrogate—Raleigh. Not that Sabrina minded. She wanted to come face-to-face with a man who might have known her father. A man who might hold the key to her finding out what part of her mother’s outrageous deathbed confession was true, and how much was from delirium caused by the pain of her cancer.
“Do you know why Mathers wants the stone?”
For some reason, Sabrina knew Raleigh was going to see right through the bullshit she was about to serve him. Nevertheless, she wasn’t going to tell him the true reason for her being there. More than anything else, she wasn’t ready to admit the truth about herself aloud. It was still difficult enough for her to say it in the privacy of her mind.
“I don’t know and, honestly, I don’t care.” She looked right in Raleigh’s pitch-black eyes when she gave him that lie. She cared very much why Bryce wanted the stones, and planned on doing everything she could to keep them from him. “If he wants the stone, I’ll do everything I can to get it for him. My job is on the line if I don’t.”
Given Raleigh’s expression, he didn’t like Bryce. She couldn’t blame him for that. She hated the man herself. “It figures a man such as Mathers would threaten a woman to get what he wants.”
Mathers wasn’t going to win any humanitarian awards. He was a rat-bastard who made her skin crawl just by being around him. She was also not ashamed to admit that he scared the shit out of her.
