Capture Me in Moonlight, page 10
“Human?” Marrok looks confounded. “Mayhap she is one of Mathias’s soulless minions.”
Bram shakes his head. “If Mathias intends to influence humanity, why would he take over a tabloid reporter’s mind to do it? Besides, if she’s leading a human life, she couldn’t while looking like an undead Anarki. The other humans would notice a walking cadaver.”
“True,” Duke acknowledges. “So she’s fully human. And frightfully well-informed.”
“Or perhaps…” Ice glares my way. “She’s getting her information from someone who rejected magickind and would celebrate its end.”
“Me?” I stomp toward the big wizard. “I’ve no love for magic, true, but I would never advocate mass murder. Besides, ending you all would mean my brother’s death. Would I be here to save him if I was working to exterminate magickind?”
“He’s right.” Duke nods.
Muttering under his breath, Ice backs away. Barely.
Turning his attention back to the newspaper, Duke points out, “Whoever she is, she’s dangerous. The rest of the article is equally shocking. ‘The bodies discovered in the tunnel are decomposed far beyond expected, given their recent deaths.’”
“That is no secret,” Marrok dismisses Duke. “The media has been scratching over that like a mongrel with fleas.”
“Listen further,” Duke barks. “‘Out Of This Realm has learned the bodies bear new wounds and fresh traces of gunpowder, suggesting they somehow fought in the battle, rather than merely being left behind as a macabre message. They were seemingly more dead than alive prior to the battle, but able to fight due to evil magic.’”
“She must be guessing,” Bram says.
But even he doesn’t sound convinced.
“Is she?” I challenge.
“I don’t think so,” Duke counters. “Here’s more: ‘According to an anonymous source, there’s a mad wizard on the loose, allegedly fighting social injustice in the magical world. He’ll stop at nothing to tear down the establishment and replace it with his version of anarchy.’”
Holy shit. How could any human possibly know that?
“Bloody fucking hell,” Bram growls. “Who is her anonymous source? And how do we shut them up?”
Duke laces his fingers in quiet concern. “Ms. Blair claims it’s ‘a witch who recently found herself tangled in the brewing magical war.’”
“A witch?” Ice rears back. “Do we even know a witch that knowledgeable?”
My heart stutters. “Anka.”
“Or any of the other missing women, like Councilman Craddock’s daughter,” Ice counters. “But no witch in her right mind would spill sensitive secrets to a bloody reporter.”
“Which is why it could be Anka,” I insist.
This might finally be a clue to her whereabouts.
“Whoever her source, Sydney Blair knows there’s a magickind, that we’re at war, and that Mathias is supposedly fighting the Social Order,” Duke points out.
“The moment humans start listening, they’ll hunt us. It will make the Inquisition seem like a bloody holiday.” Bram rakes a hand through his golden, disheveled hair. “And if Mathias reads this, her life may well be in danger. We must handle this situation immediately.”
The morning sun slants through the office’s open shutters, showing Bram’s strain. He pins me with a wily gaze that makes my blood freeze. “Wait. I know how we can deal with Ms. Blair. You’ve worked at a newspaper.”
I scowl. “So?”
“Offer your services as her photographer and shut her up before she reveals anything more about magickind.”
“Why don’t you visit her and do that wizard mind-reading trick of yours?”
“It only works if I’m touching a woman deeply, if you catch my meaning. Now that I’m mated…well, I can no longer get that close to Sydney Blair—or any woman—except my mate.” Bram smiles tightly. “If you want to know whether Anka is her source, you’ll have to pry information from Ms. Blair the human way.”
The bloody bastard has me by the balls, and he knows it. At the moment, if I want to find my brother’s beloved mate and save his life, the reporter is my best—and only—lead.
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Start your Doomsday Adventure… Welcome to a magical world set in London, where witches and wizards power themselves with steamy, frequent sexy times. Once they mate… Holy crap!
TEMPT ME WITH DARKNESS
Marrok and Olivia
Doomsday Brethren
By Shayla Black
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(will be available in eBook and print)
* * *
I hate her as much as I can’t live without her.
* * *
Marrok
I’ve been cursed, and I’m out for vengeance. I’ll do anything to end my damnation, including kidnap an innocent with telling violet eyes.
* * *
For fifteen hundred years I’ve been an immortal recluse. Suddenly, I’m tortured by filthy dreams that leave me craving my captive. Worse, once I lay rough hands on her soft skin, I demand things from her I shouldn’t. I feel things beyond the hatred that has consumed me.
* * *
Protectiveness.
Possessiveness.
And a hunger more demanding than any vengeance.
* * *
***
Olivia
The second I meet Marrok, my heart stutters. My world stops. I’m drawn to the brash stranger, until…
* * *
He abducts me.
He vows to slake fifteen centuries of lust on me.
He commands me to uncurse him—or he’ll kill me.
* * *
We should never have met. We’re enemies. Fate makes us lovers. Magic decrees us mates, unlocking secrets and unleashing a dark, paranormal power determined to burn down the world. Unless we band together, we’re doomed.
What’s inside?
• Abduction
• Band of brothers
• Cursed hero
• Enemies to lovers
• Fated mates
• Immortals
• Magic
• Revenge
• Sex = Power
• First time FMC
PREVIEW
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
Present Day
Outskirts of London
October 24
Marrok
My nightmare has returned.
Beside a picturesque pond, a woman with hair like a raven’s wing beckons me with a graceful sweep of her fingers and a come-hither smile. My breath catches. Never have I encountered this beauty. Never have I seen her face.
But for half an eternity, her violet eyes have haunted me.
One glance, and I burn.
London rises behind her, now towering with glass-and-chrome blights on the skyline that loom above its classic architecture. But the city holds not my attention. She does, all naked and gleaming, mist caressing her like the mystical fog of legend.
Her glossy hair cascades over her shoulders, contrasting with her winter-pale skin. Her inky curls shroud all but fleeting glimpses of her tempting rosy nipples. My rapt gaze drops to her nipped waist, hourglass hips, and the tender cunt glistening between her thighs.
She is alluring, a seductress.
She taunts me with the satisfaction she has denied me for centuries. She makes me crave what I dare not want.
Her stunning eyes and the telltale birthmark between her lush breasts make hiding from me impossible. I know her. Intimately. It matters not that she no longer possesses the platinum tresses into which I shoved my hands as I thrust into her body an eon ago. Or that her delicate face now entices me with high cheekbones, a pert nose, and pillowy pink lips. She cannot fool me.
After searching for over a millennium for the Le Fey bitch who destroyed my life to satisfy her whim and soothe her ego, I have found her.
“Morgana…”
My hatred does naught to cool my lust. ’Tis a bitter pill. A glimpse of her, and my blood catches fire. My cock stiffens. My heart roars.
If I am fool enough to touch her, she will be my demise.
Why has she suddenly appeared, seeking to pass herself off as another? No doubt her reasons suit Morgana alone. Whatever she seeks, I cannot be weak. I will not capitulate. I refuse to follow the she-devil to sin.
Once was one time too many.
But when I summon the fortitude to look away, her pull is stronger than my will. She’s never been more captivating. ’Tis not merely her spellbinding face or her seductive body, but something more compelling. Something Morgana has never shown.
Vulnerability.
Her uncertain expression, her timid smile, her trembling pose… All call to the knight in me, just as the despair in her eyes rouses the protector.
I must resist.
At my rebuff, her fragility evaporates, replaced by a smirk that slithers across her face. Morgana is aware of my many struggles, and they delight her.
I fume with unchecked rage when she crooks her finger, luring me closer. The curl of her lips challenges me to walk away.
I can do neither.
Morgana bewitches me far more than she did during our wind-drenched night of passion. For the mistake of succumbing to temptation and swiving her senseless, I have paid dearly.
With the last fifteen centuries.
Today, society possesses clinical terms for my obsession. I care not. Getting the treacherous witch to release me from this endless hell… Naught else matters.
But with another curl of her fingers, she summons me, her eyes dark with longing. A fresh rush of desire slams me.
Want is a luxury; this woman I need. The feeling is as new as a baby’s first breath…and as welcome as the plague.
’Tis also likely another of Morgana’s tricks.
With a delicate wave, she produces the ornate book that means the difference between my life and death, clutching it as she begins to back away.
Nay!
I launch myself at her. We fall to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs, of harsh breaths and pent-up passion. The book tumbles beside me, its maddening lock still shut tight.
As I grasp for the tome, she latches slender arms around my neck and trails kisses like fire up my neck, arching beneath me seductively. She singes me. My clothes melt away. More of her sorcery at play?
“Love me,” she whispers in my ear.
Despite the fact I know there is no loving this woman, her plea spikes my fever.
I burn to conquer her. I pine to possess her. I perish to own her.
I cannot give in.
“Release me,” I demand.
“Never.” She clings, writhing against the erection I am unable to banish.
God’s blood, my body is ablaze. I cling to restraint, refusing to ignore her treachery and succumb to temptation.
But I want to.
I fist her hair and press my face to hers. “Open the book!”
She looks hurt. “Don’t you want me?”
“I do.” Denying the truth is a waste of time and breath.
Under me, she wriggles again, silently begging me to fuck her. Lightning chases across my skin as I pry her thighs wider and grind against her. “If you tempt me thus, you will take all I give you. As much as I give you.”
“Anything you desire.”
Her answer makes me sweat. I lift her thighs into the crooks of my arms and bury my face in her soft neck. I should not give in…but her scent makes me dizzy. This ache for her makes me weak.
I am lost.
Beyond caring, I poise myself at her entrance. I swore never to touch this witch again—a promise I have never questioned—but resisting is impossible. I must be inside her now.
“Everything you desire,” she whispers.
Even knowing I’m dooming myself to eternal hell, I thrust forward.
But Morgana dissipates and re-forms just beyond my reach, once again clutching the hellish book.
As I lurch up to snatch it, she waves her pale hand and unlocks the volume. The cover falls open, revealing a flash of its pages. Her smug smile returns as she begins to fade away.
“Release me, damn you!”
But I’m shouting at fog. She—and the book—are gone.
As ever, I am cursed.
Desolation slashes me. My soul bleeds, yet my anguish makes little sense. Loss of the book, aye. But I could never mourn Morgana. I would, in fact, spit on her grave a thousand times if she had one.
“I am the key,” she whispers with the breeze. “Find me.”
’Tis the last thing I want. Her lure has grown too strong. But if I refuse, my torment will never end. So to London I must go and defeat the seductive witch once and for all.
A rattling noise rends my quiet. I jackknife up, panting and wrapping one hand around my battle sword as I scan my surroundings. White walls, bed carved by my hand. I am not in a mist-draped clearing, but in my cottage, in my room, tangled in my rumpled sheets. No Morgana in sight.
’Twas but a dream.
Or was it a message?
Though centuries have passed, Morgana once enjoyed taunting me in sleep. This episode warns me that she’s returned to the mortal realm as an ethereal brunette. Though she is intent upon stealing back her tome, I must let her touch it. Who else can unlock the book? Or did she use her sorcery to reach through my dream and abscond with it?
I whip around, but the leather-bound tool of my never-ending torment still rests on my bedside table. Unfortunately, the heavy, etched bronze lock affixed to each cover and secured over the pages remains tightly sealed.
Grumbling, I rise. If Morgana is the key, I must find her in her new disguise. Shadow and torment her I will until she grants me what I crave most in life.
Death.
Another impatient rap against the front window startles me. Since I have not welcomed a visitor for over a decade, any guest now is likely to be an enemy.
I slide the accursed book into the safe hidden beneath the floorboards under my bed, then grasp my sword and stalk down the hall. Anticipation of impending battle surges. Morning light seeps through my window, illuminating dust motes and casting a human shadow across the gleaming wooden floor.
If someone has come to steal the book from me, I will greet them with carnage and bloodshed.
Doomsday Brethren
Thank you for joining me in the Doomsday Brethren world. As you may have guessed, this series is just getting started. You’ve read about some other characters, and you might be wondering if I’ll tell their story in the future. The short answer? Yes! Stay tuned!
* * *
DOOMSDAY BRETHREN
TEMPT ME WITH DARKNESS
Marrok of Cadbury and Olivia Gray
* * *
CAPTURE ME IN MOONLIGHT
Ronan Wolvsey and Kari Keswick
* * *
SEDUCE ME IN SHADOW
Caden MacTavish and Sydney Blair
* * *
POSSESS ME AT MIDNIGHT
* * *
CLAIM ME AT NIGHTFALL
* * *
ENTICE ME AT TWILIGHT
* * *
EMBRACE ME AT DAWN
* * *
And more to come! Stay tuned!
I have so much in store for you!
* * *
Hugs and Happy Reading!
Shayla
Explore all of Shayla Black's nearly 100 titles at ShaylaBlack.com!
* * *
About Shayla Black
LET’S GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER!
* * *
With over 25 years in publishing, SHAYLA BLACK is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of nearly 100 novels. Known for her ability to craft rich characters and emotionally nuanced stories, she has won awards, sold millions of copies, and been published in a dozen languages. But it's her spicy, steamy romances that have readers breathless for more. After two decades with major New York publishers, she now enjoys the freedom of being independently published.
* * *
As an only child, Shayla occupied herself by daydreaming, much to the chagrin of her teachers. In college, she found her love for reading and started pursuing a publishing career. Though she graduated with a degree in Marketing/Advertising and embarked on a stint in corporate America, her heart was with her stories and characters, so she left her pantyhose and power suits behind.
* * *
Shayla currently lives in North Texas with her wonderfully supportive husband, her daughter, and two spoiled tabbies. In her “free” time, she enjoys reality TV, gaming, and listening to an eclectic blend of music.
* * *
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