Sherrilyn Kenyon's
Dark-Hunter World Series:
(in reading order)
Fantasy Lover Night Pleasures Night Embrace Dance with the Devil Kiss of the Night Night Play
Seize the Night Sins of the Night Unleash the Night Dark Side of the Moon The Dream-Hunter Devil May Cry Upon the Midnight Clear Dream Chaser Acheron
One Silent Night Dream Warrior Bad Moon Rising No Mercy
Retribution
The Guardian Time Untime
Styxx
Dark Bites
Son of No One Dragonbane
Dragonmark
Dragonsworn
Deadmen's Cross:
Dark-Hunter World
Deadmen Walking The Dark-Hunter Companion Also by Sherrilyn Kenyon:
League Series
Born of Night Born of Fire Born of Ice
Born of Shadows Born of Silence Born of Fury Born of Defiance Born of Betrayal Born of Legend Born of Vengeance The Belador Code
Blood Trinity Alterant
The Curse
The Rise of the Gryphon Chronicles of Nick
Infinity
Invincible
Infamous
Inferno
Illusion
Instinct
Invision
Intensity
By Sherrilyn Kenyon writing
as Kinley MacGregor:
Lords of Avalon Series
Sword of Darkness Knight of Darkness
ATOM
First published in the US in 2017 by Nemesis Publications First published in Great Britain in 2017 by Atom Copyright (c) 2017 by Sherrilyn Kenyon The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this book
is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978-0-349-40667-1
Atom
An imprint of
Little, Brown Book Group
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
An Hachette UK Company
www.hachette.co.uk
www.atombooks.co.uk
CONTENTS
THE MEANING OF TIME
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
EPILOGUE
THE MEANING OF TIME
When the world was new and time was young, there were no guardians for the gates. In the beginning, there was no need. Being fluid and flexible, time for many creatures wasn't a linear experience at all. Rather sentient beings moved forward and back at their whims and leisure. They could be born in the future and yet die in the past.
To them, the ability to move back and forth, forward and back, was the same as breathing. They thought nothing of it.
For mankind who was born without such privilege, the concept was always a hard one to grasp.
To those who can bend time, the idea of a rigid linear lifetime without such freedom was just as inconceivable. These creatures didn't understand man's obsession with measuring and preserving what to them was an infinity of interwoven circles that bent back upon themselves with fluid ease.
But as with all things, abusers were born. Rather than being grateful for the abilities they had, they chose to prey on those who lacked them. They stole time from those who could least afford to lose it and used it as currency. Held it over the heads of those who needed it.
More than that, the abusers shifted history for their own gain, and created paradoxes and changes that ill-affected the entire world.
The entire universe.
It impacted everyone.
Even the gods.
The ancient writers claimed the original zeitjager was born, not of a mother, but from just such calculated cruelty. When a demon abused time to hunt and kill his first victim for purely selfish reasons. That blood spilled in the name of hatred and violence hit the innocent ground of mother earth and mixed with her fertile soil to create a blood-red mud that made that firstborn golem. With no other emotion to nurture it than such malignancy, the golem became an insatiable nightmare that preyed on anything with a beating heart.
It became a conscienceless monster with an insatiable hunger for blood and bone.
Until the gods stepped in and gave the monster a soul. Worse, they gave masters to those monsters and assigned them a purpose. Enslaved them for their own needs, and made time a linear requirement for almost all creatures, everywhere.
One with rules and laws.
One with dire consequences for any who dared to tamper with its new rigid sequence.
Now tampering with it was something that not even the gods could do with impunity.
Tread not with time, for it slays us all in its own due course ...
PROLOGUE
The end will begin. It always does. On the wind and with stinging pain. Faster than you can see and always when least expected. Enemies will come and they will go-- forever seeking to bring you low. But stand you must, and in even fewer trust. Thyself alone, thy heart of stone. One faith. One truth.
One war.
And so it was long ago, and centuries in our future. One Malachai son who began his race. Whose true love and devotion to his precious Rubati caused them all to be cursed forever. So it began.
So it will end.
One Malachai son cursed to destroy the world because of the love of one woman. Or to save it because through her faithful heart he learned of salvation and forgiveness.
His choice.
To defy his destiny.
Or embrace his fate.
To build or destroy. The same decision that all humanity faces from the moment of birth. A road wide open to all that narrows with every decision made until we make the final one that ends our days with the last exhale we take to extinguish the candle on our lives forevermore.
Pawn or master. Choose wisely or perish from the foolishness of that last poor decision.
The immovable rock or the unstoppable force.
In truth, we are both. Situations have dictated and will dictate which we must be in order to survive. Today we are bitten, yet yesterday, we bit someone else. Tomorrow has yet to tell us which role will be ours, for it is in flux and could fall to either side.
Biter or bitten.
Life is ever a complicated symphony of catastrophes. Ever seeking to lay us low and lift us higher.
And no one has ever understood this better than the Ambrose Malachai. Born Nicholas Ambrosius Aloysius Gautier. Many things to many people. Son. Friend. Boyfriend. Squire. Brother. Dark-Hunter. Malachai. Demon. Husband. Father.
Betrayer.
Destroyer of the world.
Our could-be savior.
Nick stared at the stark words that condemned him. As harsh as they were, they were made twice as bad by the fact that they'd been written in his own handwriting.
In blood.
And they struck him like a
blow.
With this he couldn't argue. His clairvoyance was flawless as he stood beside himself in the future, looking down at the words he was writing in his grimoire.
"How did I get here?" he whispered.
He still didn't know.
Because the future isn't set in stone.
His best friend Acheron's voice teased him from deep inside his mind. Every decision made impacted the next. An endless rippling stream of indecision.
One moment he'd been a clueless kid in high school. The next, he'd been a willing servant Squire for the Dark-Hunter Kyrian of Thrace. One who'd helped shield the immortal warrior from humans while Kyrian protected them from the demons who preyed on their lives and souls.
The next thing Nick had known, he'd become a Dark-Hunter himself. Only to learn that Menyara, his voodoo godmother who he trusted implicitly, was actually an ancient goddess who'd bound his own powers and hidden him from his demonic father and others who would kill or use him. That his true destiny was to become the demon who ate the world whole.
That had been his first lifetime.
Until he came back and tampered with it.
Or did he?
Man, Nick could lose his mind with this. Because what Ambrose--his future self--had failed to tell him was the secret he'd learned last night.
The secret he now knew.
For the first time ever, he understood Tabitha Devereaux's tattoo from his vision of their future fight, and why she'd placed it on her arm.
Not as a motto for herself.
A note to him to serve as a reminder ...
Fabra est sui quaeque fati. She creates her own destiny.
That was why the Ambrose Malachai had stopped in the middle of battle to stare down at it. Why he'd screamed out in agony on the day he killed her.
I made myself the monster.
My choice.
Son. Friend. Boyfriend. Squire. Brother. Dark-Hunter. Malachai. Demon. Husband. Father.
Betrayer.
Destroyer of the world.
Or savior ...
My choice alone.
As with all things. The future would be made by the very decisions he made today. Good, bad and indifferent. He was the master spinner of destiny.
And he, alone, would bear it out.
"He will kill you."
Cyprian Malachai paused as those dire words hung in the air. A slow insidious smile spread across his face as he looked up from his homework to see the obsequious demon servant who stood on his left. "You don't know my father at all, do you?"
The demon stepped back into the shadows, cringing if the truth were known. Not that he blamed the creature. It was always good to fear him as he valued nothing and no one. That was the curse of the Malachai bloodline that he'd inherited from Ambrose.
They loved nothing and no one.
Except for his father. Ambrose had been cut from a different Malachai cloth.
Nicholas Ambrosius Aloysius Gautier. The so-called Ambrose Malachai had been a unique creature unto himself. Out of all the Malachai born after their downfall and curse, he'd been the only one to ever know a mother's love.
The only one to have a family and ...
Friends.
Something that baffled Cyprian to this day as no one had ever liked him.
He'd never understood his father's life or the loyalty of all those who'd died by Ambrose's side when they'd faced off in final battle all those centuries in the future.
Even now, he could see them as that fateful day had dawned. Lined up for battle. Both sides stood ready at the head of their armies. Cyprian's dark Mavromino forces had salivated for his father's good, Kalosum blood.
The Ambrose Malachai had stood strong at the front with his wife and her brother at his side. For the first time in all of history, the Nasaru and Arelim had ridden to fight with a Malachai and his generals at their head.
As had the last Sephiroth. Brothers and sisters in arms.
All the forces of good and light had aligned themselves against Cyprian's demonic army. The primal sources of evil and night-shadow were ready and more than willing to finally take them all to their graves.
"Remember," Cyprian's mother had whispered in his ear as she prepared herself for war, "your father isn't as strong as he appears. Your mere presence here weakens him with every breath you draw while it strengthens you so that you can defeat him. Not to mention, half his army still thinks that he's betrayed them. It will take nothing for them to turn against him now."
Because they had no idea that Cyprian had been born. Or that he and his mother had been playing havoc with all of their lives by masquerading as his father. He'd been having quite the time playing Ambrose at all their expenses. None of the poor fools had been the wiser.
Not even his father.
Unable to tell the two of them apart, the sheep had followed after him and done his bidding. They'd been duped without knowing. He made fools of them all, and he'd laughed at them the entire time.
Because they didn't know better.
For all his powers, the Ambrose Malachai wasn't impervious to everything. He had a great blind spot whenever it came to those he trusted and called friend and family. And Cyprian's mother was an ancient goddess of supreme power and vengeance. She'd promised Cyprian long ago that this day of reckoning would come.
And here they were.
Here they were ...
Facing off so that he could rise to power and his father could die by his hand and exact revenge for her.
That was the way of the Malachai curse. The father perished whenever the son came of age and killed his father to take his place.
Only one Malachai could live at a time.
Today Ambrose would die and Cyprian would rise.
Embrace your fate.
And Cyprian had gleefully seized it that day on the field when he'd killed Ambrose.
Now he was in the past to make sure that day in the future came.
One way or another. And there was nothing Nicholas Gautier could do to stop him.
CHAPTER 1
This was a stupid idea. But then stupid ideas were Nick Gautier's specialty. In fact, when God had been giving them out, Nick had gone back not only for seconds, but thirds and fourths. Probably fifths, too.
Just ask anyone.
They'd all agree.
Especially his mother and friends. And none more so than his girlfriend, who was currently staring at him as if he'd lost his last three remaining brain cells.
He probably had.
Not that they'd ever worked particularly well whenever Kody was around. What with her tight jeans that hugged a very nice posterior, and those soft shirts she fancied that drained every last bit of blood from his teenaged Cajun mind and left it quite unable to function at full capacity. So even if he'd been a NASA rocket scientist, he'd have been rendered a blubbering idiot around her anyway.
He took comfort with that knowledge. Little bit though it was.
"Oh, Nick! You can't be serious." Nekoda Kennedy crossed her arms over her ample chest and blinked those gorgeous green eyes at him as if to say--Son, you're a flaming moron.
Yeah, of course he was. And dang it anyway. How could she be so attractive while calling his meager intelligence into question?
Yet there was no getting around it.
He loved her. Every inch of that tanned, delectable caramel skin that tempted him a lot more than he ever wanted to admit. Every bit of those cupid's bow lips he could spend the rest of his life kissing. Provided his mama didn't catch him, that was. No boy needed a lecture that stern.
Not to mention all her soft, curly brown hair he always wanted to bury his face in ...
No doubt about it. He would always be a fool where his Kody was concerned.
And he was willing to die to keep her safe. Whatever it took. Running into burning buildings. Dodging traffic and irate Madre phone calls. Even facing ticked off demons, and the Apocalypse, with nothing more than his meager wits as weapons.
"I've got to do this, cher. It's a moral imperative."
"It's a grand stupidity!"
He touched her chin and grinned roguishly. "Nah! It's a matter of honor."
Rolling her eyes, she let out a long-suffering sigh that probably had to do with the fact that she'd been hanging with him all afternoon without a break-- he couldn't blame her there as a lot of people made that exasperated sound around him whenever they spent this much time in his presence. Especially his maternal unit and his ancient Greek boss, Kyrian Hunter.
And no one more so than the Dark-Hunter Acheron, and Nick's demon bodyguard, Caleb. They both swore he could test the patience of Job and Ghandi.
Kody growled at him. "Fine. Go on and do it, you stubborn Cajun beast. Not like anyone can ever talk you out of anything so stupid once you've set your mind to it, anyway. But when you get a bellyache, I don't want to hear it. So don't come crying to me for Pepto Bismol later. I don't care how cute and sexy you are. I will not allow you to wear me down for any sympathy this time. Not over something you know better than to do. You can just suffer in silence. Alone." She stepped aside, clearing the way for him. "If you really think you can out-eat a Charonte demon ... go for it."
Nick tsked as he stepped around her to slide into the empty folding chair, and inclined his head to Simi who was already waiting with a dozen plates of beignets for each of them. "Oh, I'm ready. You ready, Ms. Simi?"
Decked out in her black leather corset and purple ruffled skirt, the Goth demon grinned. "I's born ready, half-demon boy! The Simi done gots her barbecue sauce dugged out and is rearing to go. Less do this!"
Nick adjusted a plate and a glass of milk. "A'ight! And dang be he who first cries halt! Enough! I plan to eat till I snap the button off my jeans and make it a deadly weapon!" He popped his knuckles in preparation.
Off to the side of their table, Kody continued to growl at both of them. It was quite the impressive noise.
"What's going on?" Caleb asked as he came up to stand behind Kody on the sidewalk that looked out toward Jackson Square from the Cafe Du Monde where Nick sat with Simi, who'd already jumped the gun and started chowing down.
Kody gestured at them. "They're actually having an eat-off. Can you believe this?"
Caleb laughed. "He's an idiot if he thinks for one yoctosecond he can compete against a Charonte."
"Don't I know?"
"And yet you're dating him? Good job, woman. Way to raise those expectations. Yesterday, or in your case, years in the future, you were a demigod warrior, saving mankind from the demonic hoard out to annihilate them. From that to baby Malachai sitter. You didn't just fall off your high-and-mighty pedestal, Highness, you hit the ground and splintered to pieces, like Humpty Dumpty."
Intensity Page 1