Table of Contents
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Copyright
Contents
Prologue
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
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Epilogue
About the Authors
Also by Georgette St. Clair
“Col: His Destined Mate”
Copyright 2019 by Georgette St. Clair
This book is intended for readers 18 and older only, due to adult content. It is a work of fiction. All characters and locations in this book are products of the imagination of the author.
License Statement
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Contents
Prologue
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
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Epilogue
About the Authors
Also by Georgette St. Clair
Prologue
Cadmus couldn’t resist a chortle of satisfaction. The unconscious male, bound with rope on a simple stone slab, would be the finest sacrifice yet. It boded well for this new location, already brimming with so much energy that his senses were still on overload.
His Terrible Majesty would be pleased.
Still unconscious, the sacrificial male formed the centerpiece, ringed by lit, flickering beeswax candles, of the ritual markings Cadmus had painstakingly etched on the dirt floor of the cavern, an entry to an abandoned mine shaft. The cave walls were rough to the touch, the more visible crystals already pried free by miners a century earlier, and rock-hounds more recently.
They were idiots.
True power coursed through the veins of the earth here, the crystals that still remained only one of the many conduits, as were the herbs, plants and even wildlife. Of course there were the New Agers who made their way to this section of Colorado, waving their Palo Santo sticks or sounding their singing bowls. Now, they at least had a clue. Magickally speaking, though, they were but infants.
But they were worth putting up with, if this part of Colorado would turn up young men like this for His Terrible Majesty’s rituals.
Cadmus ran his eyes over the bound male again. The unconscious man’s auburn hair was in a standard brush cut, unlike Cadmus’s expertly shorn salt-n’-pepper. The bones of his face were well formed, the strong jut of his jaw, the equally firm brow that topped a nose that might have been broken before, but had healed in a way that added to the man’s overall perfection. He was wearing running shorts and a t-shirt, revealing his mighty thighs and the massive curve of his biceps.
He took a moment to collect himself, looking over this fine specimen of masculine power. His Terrible Majesty was sure to delight in this one. He was about six and a half feet of muscle that could not have been brought down by Cadmus and his half-wit of an assistant, Billy Bob, without the help of his specially formulated tranquilizer darts. Even so, it had taken more than half a dozen darts to affect the man. He was going to have to re-check the formula, frankly, it should have been enough to kill the man. Instead, Cadmus had shot him again and again, wondering if the man would ever fall.
It was many times the number needed for the other young men that Cadmus had taken.
The ones in Upstate New York.
The reason why they had to leave.
Cadmus shook the thought away. He needed to focus on the ritual at hand. It was intricate, and would require his complete attention. Especially since he still hadn’t acclimated to the enormous waves of energy pulsing in this area since his arrival less than a week ago. But that was why he was here, after all.
The Merciless needed a new home base, and he had opted to scout out this location here, in one of the nexuses of power in the New World. He had been here only once before, years earlier, and it was a moment of triumph for him.
He still remembered what had felt like those long years ago, to per
sonally take the lives of the enemies that he had tracked down. The coppery smell of their blood filling his nostrils, the sight of their futile struggles to live against his deadly purpose, the sounds of their death rattles as they finally succumbed to his superior might. They were the last of the threats to His Terrible Majesty, as the lord still lay in his thousand-year slumber.
It was due to Cadmus’s devotion, his devout tending to the studies, the rituals, the traditions that had been passed down, the sheer strength of mind and will he had possessed, that His Terrible Majesty had finally awakened.
And hungered.
To his side, Billy Bob was twirling something round and round like a gyroscope. The flickering candlelight created a shadow show of Billy Bob’s movements against the cavern wall.
“Stop that,” Cadmus snarled, and the dolt quickly shoved the object into his filthy, baggy jeans. It had been the male’s iPod, and no doubt Billy Bob would try to barter it somewhere the police wouldn’t look and no questions would be asked. He would allow the fool to keep it, and his life, if he would Just. Keep. Still.
The man stirred. Cadmus blinked in disbelief. The tranquilizers in the man’s system should have been enough to keep him out for much longer, at least until the ritual was well underway.
No matter. The man’s fear and horror at what was to become of him would add to the power of the ritual. It would make the life essence that Cadmus was about to extract all the more delicious to His Terrible Majesty. Cadmus grinned as the man’s eyes opened, the realization that he was tied down slowly pushing away the last effects of the chemicals.
“Boss, he’s awake!” Billy Bob exclaimed.
“How astute of you.” Cadmus rolled his eyes as his sarcasm was lost on the idiot, whose chest actually puffed up at being called astute, even if he probably didn’t know what the word meant. He turned his attention back towards the male, who was flexing, pushing against the rope that held him down.
Cadmus was bordering on admiration of the male’s control over his emotions. He couldn’t sense any panicking, any fear. It was almost as if the male was clinically assessing the strength of the bonds. Like a scientist. Or a soldier.
So Cadmus was going to turn up the heat.
“Enjoy your final moments of life. And know that to be selected by me is a great honor.” He took pride in his enunciation. Nothing like the annoying verbal fry that spread everywhere since the plague of Kardashians hit popular culture. The male looked at him, the light of the candles catching his eyes, making them gleam golden. “Lame,” he muttered under his breath.
What was that?
Why wasn’t the man panicking? Why did he, in fact, look mildly amused?
Cadmus felt a slight prickling of unease. The man’s calm was unnerving; he should be screaming and begging and soiling himself by now.
Disappointing. The crying and begging were Cadmus’ favorite part of the ritual.
Cadmus cleared his throat, and unsheathed the ritual dagger that he had made to his exact specifications, lifting it high in the air before bringing it down to point at the man. The man looked at the blade, his full lips quirked in a faint smile, and again Cadmus felt a frisson of disquietude. It must be the magickal equivalent of jet lag that was still playing havoc with his senses.
“As I was saying, a great honor.” He switched to the Ancient Tongue, his mouth caressing the words. “Your life force is about to be extracted, and contributed to a higher purpose. You will be a splendid offering to His Terrible Majesty, An Infernal Eternity shall he reign, with me, his ever faithful servant by his side.” Cadmus’s voice echoed in the deep reaches of the mineshaft, and he lowered the blade, satisfied that he made his point.
The man arched an eyebrow. “Get to the point,” he said, his voice ringing through the room. “I have a thing later tonight. With a girl.’
Cadmus felt a flush of fury burning his face. Was this man a simpleton? How could he not recognize his dire situation? There would be no thing. There would be no girl. The man would scream, and beg, and die.
Well, the disrespectful fool would figure it out soon enough when he was drowning in his own blood.
With that thought, Col started reciting the ancient syllables of the forbidden incantation, the ones that would forever bind the sacrifice’s life force to that of His Terrible Majesty. The sounds of each ancient word vibrated through his body, thrumming with the energy of the earth, the magicks at his summoning. The man was now actively engaging his muscles, the rope pressing into his flesh as he pushed against it, while Cadmus approached him, knife held high, the incantation growing louder.
And just as Cadmus closed the distance between them, the mage was gratified to see the rope biting into the male. Yes, the pain and panic should be setting in now, as he raised the dagger over his head and—
With a burst of energy that knocked him to his feet, an enormous fur covered animal appeared where the male was, the broken ends of the rope snapping to either side. Billy Bob shrieked like a little girl, as the animal— a veritable wolf on steroids — leapt with tremendous power towards the entrance of the cavern. In a blur of fur and force, it was gone before Cadmus could even scramble back onto his feet.
He dashed out of the cave with Billy Bob at his heels, but the wolf had moved faster than anything he’d seen before, faster than was possible, and he was now disappearing into the tree line.
That was magick. True, powerful magick. He hadn’t ever encountered it before, and maybe he would have picked up on it earlier if his senses weren’t playing catch-up with whatever was going on in this area. Either way, his instincts were right on the money. This would be a true prize for His Terrible Majesty, all the more so because the life force would be that much more potent.
He ran over to the slab, poring over it with every bit of unmasking magick he had available. He’d pay for it with a colossal headache later, but the search was worth it.
There, on the slab where the rope had probably pressed against the punctures caused by the darts: almost microscopic traces, but The Infernal Gods willing, there they were. Blood from the male, potentially enough for a talisman, to be used just once, to locate him.
And then Cadmus would make damned sure that the wolf was properly knocked out this time, before presenting him to His Terrible Majesty.
Col raced through the woods, four-footed and fleet. He let his wolf senses take over, guiding him back unerringly. They could at least do that much, picking out the surest route through the dense scrubs of broom snakeweed and rabbitbrush, powering his massive body through the fingers of the yuccas clawing at him, as if he were trying to outrace his thoughts.
Not a prayer.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
That was the last time he would ever allow himself to be distracted by wearing headphones while on a run in his human form. Or doing anything in his human form for that matter.
He had known it was a bad idea when Aylwyn had goaded him to try it, but lately he’d been on edge. Like something was about to happen, the ozone in the air in between lightning strikes. Hell, his senses were already honed to a razor tip edge, or at least they were, before having to adjust to the trappings of modern life.
They had spent six arduous months recalibrating their senses, and their bodies, to this new world. And now he was off-kilter again.
If he’d had the time, he would have stopped and smacked himself upside the head for being fool enough to listen to anything that Aylwyn, the furry prankster, suggested.
He had awakened for a reason, a sacred mission with which they were entrusted. They could never forget that. He could never forget that. Col was a Waryeor, first and foremost, and trained to live and die for his duty.
As he’d slowly, fuzzily awakened, on that slab, he could have sworn he heard his captor using the Ancient Tongue. Words that hadn’t been spoken in a thousand years.
He couldn’t quite recognize the dialect, but he could have sworn that the man had mentioned the Dark Warlord. Could that be true
? Because that would change everything.
Or he dreaming it, with his head still fogged by whatever sorcery had dulled his senses? Either way, he had to inform his Bredhren.
He was still castigating himself as he neared the clearing behind the ‘mansion’ – the word that today’s people used instead of castle - when his ears were assaulted by the sounds of Hammerfall turned up on high on the outdoor speakers. The power metal was blasting through so loudly that he could feel the vibrations reverberating through him as he raced towards the source. Coupled with the smell of fire-roasting—or what they called barbecuing—meats, he knew his Bredhren were likely gathered together in the spacious backyard of Simon’s mansion.
He waited until he could hear the loud chatter and laughter between the other Waryeors, and even the voices of the two human males, Simon and Miller, before he surged powerfully out into the clearing, willing his body to transition to that of his human form mid-leap. Still running, he slowed to a stop in front of the others.
Aylwyn was the first to greet him. “Dude, where’ve you been this whole time?”
Col winced at Aylwyn’s grating use of modern slang, but it was Tybalt’s eyes that he sought. The Vixar, or leader, was looking at him, waiting for him to speak. Simon and Miller stood by watchfully, and even Merek and Barric had broken off their wrestling match to listen.
“Bredhren,” Col said grimly. “We have a problem.”
The thing with the girl would have to wait. It was of little importance, she was merely someone who’d rubbed up against him at the Taverne the other night, simpering that she’d be there on Friday and she hoped that he would too.
Col had more important things to worry about right now. Like the possible end of the world.
Chapter One
The apartment was stifling hot, one of the many downsides of living in a crappy neighborhood that had been earmarked for gentrification, since the time gentrification was first invented. Lily’s tank top was already soaked through with perspiration, and the few strands of rich chocolate-brown hair that escaped her ponytail were stuck to her face as if with glue. Gluey, sticky sweat. For once she was glad that the denim cutoffs she wore were threadbare and full of holes. Even the minuscule amount of ventilation that provided helped.
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