“Thankfully, he knows to stay inside a building,” Kitty assured me. “Alyssa told me Nixie says that walls leading outside ‘feel different’. Whatever that means.”
“Interesting.”
“All of the little cambions are interesting!” She laughed.
They sure were. All boys—there had only been male babies, so far—were turning out to be interesting beings, each in their own way.
Not long ago, Marcus and Angela discovered that their son, Victor, could levitate as high and as fast as his father, which was practically flying. So, the net over his crib had turned out to be useful.
All of the baby cambions had been fitted with bracelets that had built-in GPS trackers, as well as the names and contact information of their parents engraved. After what had happened to Marcus, no one wanted to take any chances, afraid of losing their children if they teleported away on their own one day, the way my brother did as a toddler.
“Thank goodness, we don’t have to worry about any of that, right baby?” Kitty cooed, bouncing Leslie in the wrap.
Kitty’s daughter was one hundred percent human. Just like Kitty’s parents, Leslie’s mom and dad died in a car accident. She was delivered into this world right there, on the side of the road.
Since there was no hope for Kitty to have biological children of her own, she and Ivarr had been working with an adoption agency to start their family. Hearing Leslie’s story from them, Kitty said she knew right away that Leslie was meant to be theirs.
Raim and I happened to be visiting that week, and I drove her to the hospital, as she was too shaken emotionally to drive herself. Ivarr had met us there, and Leslie had been with them ever since.
“There are definitely some benefits to being a regular human woman,” I agreed, stroking the baby’s short, silky hair.
Raim and I had been talking about starting a family, too. I was more than ready for having one with him.
“All right,” his familiar beloved voice sounded from the hallway, “Where is my favourite human woman?”
“Oh no!” Kitty rushed to the doors, shutting them closed. “A groom is not supposed to see the bride before the wedding!” she shouted in warning, leaning against the doors as if her tiny frame could stop a demon from barging in if he really wanted to.
“Dee,” Raim’s voice turned pleading. “Please don’t do this to me. Don’t make me wait outside this door, again.”
“The ceremony is in twenty minutes, honey,” I replied firmly, although all I really wanted was to come to him. “Go downstairs, I’ll be right there.”
“Twenty minutes feels like an eternity since I haven’t seen you for nearly twenty-four hours, now.”
“You can’t see her!” Kitty snapped. “It’s a tradition. Freaking, impatient demons,” she muttered under her breath.
“You said you didn’t want to go traditional anyway, Dee. Please open the door, my love,” Raim murmured seductively. “Just one kiss? Promise.”
At his nicest, he was so much more dangerous than at his harshest, and much harder to resist.
“A kiss is never just one kiss with you, Raim.” I shook my head, resolved to sticking with the tradition on this one. “Go downstairs, honey.”
More voices came from the hallway. Others seemed to try to convince my impatient husband-to-be to take his spot on the open terrace off the main floor where the ceremony was supposed to take place.
Finally, all went quiet again.
“Are you ready?” Kitty fussed around me, arranging and rearranging my long hair that had been curled for the occasion and spread over my shoulders in waves.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I drew in a deep breath, fighting jitters of anticipation. “Can the second time be the charm?”
“The right man is the charm.” She shrugged. “It may take some time to find him in life. So, he may be your first, or second, or third, but he is always the one. Is Raim the one for you?”
“One and only.” I had no doubt in my heart about that. The whole wedding and ceremony part might make me nervous, but the anxiety had nothing to do with the prospect of spending my life with Raim. I wanted no one else, and I was certain I was the love of his life, too.
“Excellent.” Kitty clapped her hands, opening the door. “I have a bride here,” she announced. “Ready to be given away.”
“Get her over here, then,” Andras replied in his deep, rumbly voice. “I can’t get inside there myself.” He tipped his chin towards my amulet that was locking him out of the room.
“I’m coming.” Lifting the train of my dress, I hurried into the hallway where Andras waited for me patiently.
“Don’t be nervous, Delilah,” he said softly, taking my hand into his gloved one. “I’m nervous for both of us.”
I smiled. “Why, Andras?”
“This is my first time giving a bride away. I find this role carries a certain amount of responsibility.”
“But there is not much to it. It’s not like you would give me to the wrong man or something.”
“Well, you never know,” he said, his expression completely serious.
“Alright.” I laughed. “Just remember it’s Raim, okay? The groom? Now, take me to him.”
Andras led me down the wide staircase in the middle of the castle, its railings decorated with garlands of white flowers. Beautiful classical music filled the main floor, spilling into the open terrace where a red carpet led us to Raim and the marriage official by the parapet.
My attention immediately went to my soon-to-be-husband. Wearing a long jacket in gold and cream damask tailored in oriental style and a pair of cream-coloured pants, he looked absolutely perfect—like always.
His gaze drew me in like a magnet. His eyes said everything. There was longing, wonder, hunger, love—and I could read it all clearly.
“Come here,” he growled.
As soon as I came close enough, he reached out and grabbed me.
I squeaked in surprise when he yanked me to him, then giggled happily when he circled his arms around my waist, seeking a kiss with his lips.
“That’s not how it’s done.” I evaded his mouth but didn’t feel like fighting his embrace. “You didn’t get permission to kiss the bride yet.”
“I’ve never asked for such.” He leaned his forehead to mine.
“But that’s the tradition. The gentleman here,” I gestured at the marriage official, “will need to do his speech, first.”
“He can do that while I hold you, then. We’ll make our own tradition.” He waved a go ahead with the ceremony, not releasing me out of his arms.
With a long exhale, I leaned against him, letting it all happen. Here, in his arms, it all felt right. My anxiety and nervousness evaporated before he even had a chance to take any of them away. When the official asked me whether I was taking this man as my husband, I said “I do,” loud and clear, feeling it deep in my heart.
“I have something for you,” Raim whispered.
Reaching into his pocket, he produced a ring of dark gold with an enormous red stone set with smaller clear ones around it.
“I’ve kept it for over six centuries. And I believe it was always meant to be for you.” He slid the ring on my finger. “They said it was made for a ruler of the Ghaznavid dynasty, even before I came to this world.”
My interest in history didn’t mean I had knowledge of all the ancient dynasties of the Middle East. I had no idea when Ghaznavids ruled, but if the ring was older than Raim, that said a lot.
I admired the iridescent lights twinkling in the facets of the crimson stone. “It’s simply gorgeous, Raim.”
“The groom may now kiss the bride,” the official announced.
“And there is your permission.” I smiled at my husband.
He grinned back at me before kissing me, deeply and more passionate than ever, making the whole world fall away in an instant—the way only Raim could do.
The Real Thing
MARCUS AND ANGELA’S Story
&
nbsp; Excerpt
I didn’t regret coming along but couldn’t help feeling a little lonely surrounded by couples in love. And it would only get worse once the ball dropped and everyone started kissing, but the alternative was to celebrate New Years in my apartment with only Lannister, my cat, for company.
Finally, using my own shoulders and elbows and tossing a good curse here and there, I made my way through the crowd and caught up with Evan and Lily right across from the huge billboards on Times Square. Mikey and Emily were already there, squeezed by the crowd from all sides.
Grabbing Emily’s sleeve, I took a moment to catch my breath, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the surroundings. I lived, worked and studied in downtown Toronto and was used to living in a big city. However, the crowd, the lights, and the noise right now equaled all my experiences multiplied by a hundred.
“There he is! Look!” shouted somebody in the crowd, and I tilted my head way back, searching the night sky high above.
The biggest of the billboards across from us shimmered with lights, and his masked face appeared on the screen.
Marcus the Magnificent, the up-and-coming magician—or illusionist as I heard they preferred to be called—the newest internet sensation, according to my brother.
Marcus was the opening act of this year’s celebration in Times Square. He was going to walk between the rooftops of two buildings, on nothing but air.
The crowd stilled. The noise had subdued, and I squinted to see a figure standing on the edge of the roof, hundreds of feet above us.
From down here, I could only make out his silhouette backlit by several spotlights—the long mane of his dark hair and the ends of his coat whipping in the wind.
The giant screen above us, however, displayed a close-up image.
He wore all black—leather pants and heavy boots, in addition to his long trench coat. His straight jet-black hair must have reached past his waist. The long strands lashed across his face with the gusts of wind. A black half-mask covered the upper part of his face.
Dark and mysterious, he commanded attention and enticed imagination, without saying a word.
There was no introduction. Marcus didn’t seem to care whether all attention was fully on him yet. Slowly, he moved his foot forward and stepped off the roof into the abyss.
The crowd gasped as one physical entity. Breath caught in my throat, too, as I half expected him to plummet to the ground in a bloody mess.
My heart skidded to a halt, and I jerked forward as if I could catch him before he hit the pavement at my feet.
But he didn’t fall. Instead, he remained suspended in the air, halfway between the sky and the earth.
He took another step forward, slowly but without hesitation. Then another step. And another.
Unhurriedly, he was making his way across the sky, with thousands of people gaping at him far below. The gusts of winter air caught the ends of his trench coat, flapping them violently against his boots. Hair flew across his face, completely obstructing it at times.
Nothing seemed to faze him. He kept walking with confidence on nothing but air for support.
The crowd below seemed to have found its voice again. People shouted encouragements and offered their guesses on how the illusion was accomplished. Most snapped pictures and took bad videos with their cellphones.
“Isn’t it cool, dude!” My brother yelled.
“He should’ve put his hair into a ponytail,” came the aloof voice of Lily. “It’s a mess. How can he see where he’s going?”
“He is so hot. Angela, isn’t he hot?” Emily hugged my shoulders.
“It’s the mask,” boomed Mikey’s deep voice just behind me. “Everyone looks hot in a black mask. Even I would if I wore one.”
“Sure you would, honey.” Emily laughed and got on her tiptoes to place a quick kiss on Mikey’s chin. She couldn’t reach any higher. At well over six feet tall, Mikey towered over all of us.
I said nothing, my gaze fixed on Marcus as he walked across the sky.
It was a perfectly executed illusion. So perfect, in fact, that it didn’t even seem like an illusion at all. It felt real. Wonder and awe rose inside me, as if in the presence of real magic, and I was afraid to breathe lest I scare it away.
I watched his face carefully, trying to make out his expression behind the mask. What was he thinking at that moment? What would it feel like to create a miracle in front of thousands of people?
The camera zoomed in on his face then, and I got a clear view of his eyes through the slits of the mask.
Suddenly, I knew exactly what he was feeling. His eyes said it all.
He was bored.
His head tilted slightly to the side, the vacant expression in his eyes was that of someone stuck in traffic or standing in a grocery checkout line, waiting for the time to pass.
How could Marcus not feel what everyone else did at that moment?
My own skin buzzed with excitement for him. He literally stood on top of the world right now and should be enjoying the highest high possible in his occupation. Surely, weeks or even months of planning had been spent to bring him to this point. He was pulling off the perfect illusion in front of hundreds of thousands of live spectators and numerous TV cameras.
Why did it seem like he’d rather be anywhere else but here?
AVAILABLE HERE
Thank you
WHEN DEMON MINE WAS published, I was on my own. Since then, the most valuable lesson that I’ve learned is that no book is ever a product of work of just one person. An author needs a team of people to make her story shine.
I am forever grateful for all the people who came along over the years to help me make this series happen.
- To Cass, from Two Horses Swift. Thank you for reading Demon Mine and believing it was worth improving. I’ve learned so much from you during these years.
- To Nikki, from The Indie Hub, the editor and proofreader extraordinaire.
- To the amazing author, Bex McLynn. Thank you for your invaluable insight into Raim’s story and character. I thought I knew him well enough, but he told you some things about himself that I had missed.
- To Emily, from The Social Butterfly team. Thank you for sticking with me through it all.
- To Mo, The Scarlet Siren and the best PA in the world.
- To my wonderful group of SFR Authors and Lovers. You and I know that I would crash and burn under the weight of my own fears and insecurities if it wasn’t for your constant support and encouragement.
- To Cameron Kamenicky and Naomi Lucas, for the most amazing covers.
- To my Captain, whom I dedicated this entire series. You were my very first reader and still are one of my biggest supporters.
- To my fearless team of typo huntresses. Thank you for cleaning up the Demons, one dirty hero at a time.
- To the dwellers of Marina’s Reading Cave, my Facebook readers’ group. You are my happy place.
- To all the wonderful bloggers, who have found my books and have been loving and sharing them ever since.
- To the readers. Thank you for reading Demon Mine and for demanding more of my sweet, dark, and sexy Incubi. Without you this series would have simply never happened.
When I published Demon Mine, I was on my own. Now I have all of you. And that is the most extraordinary thing about this entire experience.
Thank you.
More by Marina Simcoe
Demons, 5-book Series
Demon Mine
The Forgotten
Grand Master
The Last Unforgiven - Cursed
The Last Unforgiven - Freed
Stand Alone Novels Set in Demons World
The Real Thing
To Love A Monster
Madame Tan’s Freakshow
Call of Water – 2020
Midnight Coven Author Group
Wicked Warlock (Cursed Coven)
Tempted by Fae, Anthology. Available only until August 2020
Science-Fiction Romance
Experiment
Enduring (Valos Of Sonhadra)
My Holiday Tails - 2020
Gravity (Dark Anomaly Trilogy) – 2020/2021
About the Author
MARINA SIMCOE LOVES to write romance with characters, who may or may not be entirely human, because she firmly believes that our contemporary world could always use a little bit of the extraordinary.
She has lots of fun exploring how her out-of-this-world characters with their own beliefs, values, and aspirations fit into our every-day life.
She lives in Canada with her very own sexy demon, their three little angels, and a cat who might be the Lucifer himself.
For updates and for more illustrations of all of her books please visit Marina Simcoe Author page on Facebook or www.marinasimcoe.com.
Please Stay in Touch
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The Last Unforgiven - Freed (Demons, #5) Page 24