Midnight Enchantment
Page 1
“Anya Bast is a professional at writing stories that keep the reader in a…state of suspense. Her reputation is well deserved.”
—Romance Junkies
“The atmosphere that Anya Bast portrays is intricate, dark, and highly erotic.”
—Just Erotic Romance Reviews
PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF ANYA BAST
DARK ENCHANTMENT
“When I was first introduced to Anya Bast a couple of years ago, I quickly became enchanted with her work. It seems that I cannot read her work fast enough to satisfy the need. Dark Enchantment…holds the reader spellbound while in its pages…Like all her books, Dark Enchantment is well put together and a pleasure to read. I hope you get lost in a ‘Dark Enchantment’ yourself—you will not be disappointed.”
—Night Owl Reviews
“Readers will recognize many characters. Bast has created a charmed world of faeries, brownies, witches, goblins, and more. You won’t want to leave this beautiful world…Seriously sexy.”
—RT Book Reviews
“This is the third installment in the Dark Magick series and it does not let you down…Charlotte is surprisingly sassy [and] Kieran is droolworthy!…As with Bast’s previous novels, there is plenty of action in this novel as well…You will not be disappointed or bored!”
—ParaNormal Romance
WITCH FURY
“Full of action, excitement, and sexy fun…Another delectable tale that will keep your eyes glued to every word.”
—Bitten by Books
“Hot romance, interesting characters, intriguing demons, and powerful emotions. I didn’t want to put it down, and now that I’ve finished this book, I’m ready for the next!”
—Night Owl Reviews
WITCH HEART
“[A] fabulous tale…The story line is fast paced from the onset…Fans will enjoy the third bewitching blast.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
“Smart, dangerous, and sexy as hell, the witches are more than a match for the warlocks and demons who’d like nothing more than to bring hell to earth and enslave mankind. Always an exhilarating read.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Witch Heart is a story that will captivate its readers. It will hook you from the first few pages and then take you on a wild ride. It is a fast-paced story but it is also a story that will make you feel emotion. Anya Bast uses words like Monet used paint. It’s vibrant. It’s alive. Readers will be able to see the story come to life as it just leaps out of the pages.”
—Bitten by Books
WITCH BLOOD
“Any paranormal fan will be guaranteed a Top Pick read. Anya has provided it all in this hot new paranormal series. You get great suspense, vivid characters, and a world that just pops off the pages…Not to be missed.”
—Night Owl Reviews
“Gritty danger and red-hot sensuality make this book and series smoking!”
—RT Book Reviews
“Ms. Bast delivers another heart-stopping and first-rate paranormal romance. Her characters jump off the page and draw you in.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
WITCH FIRE
“Deliciously sexy and intriguingly original.”
—Angela Knight, New York Times bestselling author
“Sizzling suspense and sexy magic are sure to propel this hot new series onto the charts. Bast is a talent to watch, and her magical world is one to revisit.”
—RT Book Reviews
“A sensual feast sure to sate even the most finicky of palates. Richly drawn, dynamic characters dictate the direction of this fascinating story. You can’t miss with Anya.”
—A Romance Review
“Fast-paced, edgy suspense…The paranormal elements are fresh and original. This reader was immediately drawn into the story from the opening abduction, and obsessively read straight through to the dramatic final altercation. Bravo, Ms. Bast; Witch Fire is sure to be a fan favorite.”
—ParaNormal Romance
“A fabulously written ultimate romance. Anya Bast tells a really passionate story and leaves you wanting more…The elemental witch series will be a fantastic read.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
“A terrific romantic fantasy starring two volatile lead characters…The relationship between fire and air…makes the tale a blast to read.”
—The Best Reviews
Titles by Anya Bast
WITCH FIRE
WITCH BLOOD
WITCH HEART
WITCH FURY
WICKED ENCHANTMENT
CRUEL ENCHANTMENT
DARK ENCHANTMENT
MIDNIGHT ENCHANTMENT
THE CHOSEN SIN
JEWELED
JADED
RAVEN’S QUEST
M I D N I G H T
ENCHANTMENT
ANYA BAST
BERKLEY SENSATION, NEW YORK
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
MIDNIGHT ENCHANTMENT
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / February 2012
Copyright © 2012 by Anya Bast.
Excerpt from Embrace of the Damned by Anya Bast copyright © 2012 by Anya Bast.
Cover art by Tony Mauro.
Cover design by Rita Frangie.
Interior text design by Kristin del Rosario.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
EISBN: 9781101560068
BERKLEY SENSATION®
Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY SENSATION® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
<
br /> If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Dedicated to Jeffrey Skinner
for helping me see beauty in the way words come together
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As ever, thank you to Brenda Maxfield for being my sounding board and my second pair of eyes.
Thanks to Axel de Roy for creating the gorgeous interactive map of Piefferburg, which appears on my website, www.anyabast.com.
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Epilogue
Glossary
ONE
FIND her. Trap her. Compel her to reveal the location of the two stolen pieces of the bosca fadbh and get the fuck home. Those were his objectives.
Of course, Elizabeth Cely Saintjohn’s objectives directly opposed his.
Right now he was blind, pissed off, and holding a rope embedded with cold iron. The only way this night could get worse was if she escaped him again. Niall’s ear twitched and the hair on his nape rose as something scraped along the boulder to his left. He went still, his eyes searching the endless black for some sign of his quarry.
Footsteps sounded on the path behind him. He turned, cursing the lack of moonlight and Elizabeth’s habit of only traveling at night. To his right, movement caught his attention and he stilled, growling in frustration. Light, ringing laughter echoed all around him. She moved fast and completely silently when she wished.
Rage clenched his gut. She was playing with him. Again.
“Must be nice to be able to see in the dark and move like the wind, huh?” he snarled into the empty air. Not to mention dissolve into water and move anywhere she wanted within the bounds of Piefferburg. Neat trick.
His hand tightened on the rope that was especially designed to trap a fae like her. He wore thick black leather gloves to prevent the charmed iron from touching his skin and leeching his magick away. It was meant to bind Elizabeth, an asrai, before she escaped him. It would only work if the rope touched her bare skin. Normally that would be a problem, but not with Elizabeth. Reverting to her water self and traveling through the earth left her naked every time she regained form. Unfortunately, roping this woman was harder than catching a weasel in a vat of olive oil. He’d never so much as caught a glimpse of her yet since it was always dark.
Usually, it went this way—she toyed with him for a while, making him think he might have her…then she escaped. It was a bizarre situation for him. He was usually the one doing the toying where women were concerned.
“Come on, Elizabeth. Don’t play hard to get. Just give me the pieces and I’ll stop hunting you.”
“I kind of like it when you hunt me,” came her lilting voice from somewhere farther up the path he walked. She had a sexy voice, whiskey rough and sweet.
He ground his teeth together and readied a spell in his head that would give him a little light. It wouldn’t last long, so he needed to draw her closer before he released it. He was a mage, capable of versatile magick not unlike that of the Phaendir. Except his magick wasn’t born of the creepy hive mind that the Phaendir used—his power was all inside him. Independent. Powerful.
And that’s why he’d been sent after the asrai. He was the best qualified to capture and compel a fae like her. Best at thieving—or thieving back, in this case. Best at weaving illusion. Best at tracking, capture, and torture. Best for this job. Or, at least, that’s what everyone at the Black Tower thought. That had been a week ago. A week filled with failure. Who knew what they thought now.
The Shadow Queen had sent him out the moment the Black Tower had learned the Summer Queen had passed off her pieces of the bosca fadbh to Elizabeth. The pieces were parts of a key that would unlock magick that could free the fae from Piefferburg. He was no closer to trapping her now than he’d been on the first day.
“Why are you doing this?” he called. “Why keep your people from freedom? The Phaendir are at our gates right now. We don’t have time to lose.” His voice grew a degree lower and a lot more hostile. “Why work for the Summer Queen, a nice nature fae like you?”
“Who said I was nice?” The words breezed past his ear and were gone.
He lunged toward the direction of her fading voice with his rope and got nothing but air, a cool breeze, and the light floral fragrance of the soap she used. Staggering and swearing a blue streak, he barely caught himself before falling on his face. Straightening, he laughed mirthlessly. “Come on now, don’t go away so fast, baby. At least give me a kiss before you fuck me.”
And she was there, the warmth of her presence at his elbow, taunting him with her proximity. The brush of her silky hair against his skin. That soapy, light flowery scent of hers teasing his nose.
Ah, good. He’d been gambling her arrogance might be her end.
“Arendriac,” he murmured. The charm burst from him with a little pop, lighting their immediate area with a golden glow. He reached out to pull her close in the same moment, rope in one hand ready to trap.
His fingers brushed the smooth bare skin of her waist as she backed away. For a moment she stood motionless. Her lush lips were parted, ruby red hair lofting around a pale, beautiful heart-shaped face, green eyes flecked with gold and wide with surprise.
He stared back at her, sharing an equal measure of astonishment. She was the most stunning woman he’d ever seen. He hadn’t been expecting that.
Niall took a step forward, rope in hand. She dissolved as soon as he moved. A vision of beauty one moment, gone the next in a soft burst of spray. He looked down at his feet and saw the puddle of water she’d become. Then even the water disappeared, soaking into the earth, every single molecule of it, traveling through the ground to find a river, a stream, whatever flow that would take her away.
Swearing under his breath, he knelt and touched the dry soil where she’d been standing only a moment ago.
Gone yet again.
“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath. The pretty lady with the pieces was out of his reach for another night. He wasn’t sure which he mourned more—the loss of the pieces or the woman. The witch enticed him. She’d done that even before he’d caught a glimpse of her. Why couldn’t she be some unalluring hag without the clever wit she displayed in the woods every time he chased her, without that constantly teasing scent? It was fucking distracting.
Especially since he sort of liked the woman.
Too bad he was probably going to have to kill her.
ELIZABETH regained consciousness sitting on a bed of leaves with her head bowed. Near her bare foot a beetle with bright green and gold casing edged its way through the dying foliage. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the softly lighted area around her, and raised her head, shivering from the chill in the air.
That had been the first time she’d had a good look at her pursuer. He’d been about what she’d expected. The man was clever and had a mouth on him that never quit. Sparring with him night after night was actually sort of fun—which said a lot about the state of her personal life. Pathetic. Not that she’d ever known it to be anything different.
He was good-looking. She’d ex
pected that based on his cocky personality. Strong of body and jaw, with tousled, thick dark hair that curled over the collar of his shirt and framed a set of expressive gray eyes and a handsome face. She’d only had the barest second to look at him, but a man like that tended to stick in your mind.
His lips were full and his cheeks sported a hint of whiskers that needed to be shaved. She wasn’t sure if that look was deliberate or a result of the chase she’d been leading him on. She hoped it was the latter. Damned man needed to leave her alone.
Carefully, she pushed to her feet and stretched, enjoying the light waft of the night air around her nude body. Her clothing never dissolved with her, only her flesh, muscle, hair, and bone had the power to melt into her water self and then re-form. It was that way for every other asrai she knew, all one of them.
The other asrai lived near the ocean. The last time Elizabeth talked with her, she’d seemed distant and dreamy. Hopefully she hadn’t fallen prey to a common asrai fate—losing sense-of-self to water forever. Some asrai dissolved one day and simply never re-formed, stayed water for the rest of their lives. The asrai who were all alone in the world, had no one to anchor them, had a much higher chance of it happening—or so she’d heard, anyway.
In the distance her mother’s cottage glowed between the trees. The sprae congregated here, their great number driving away the black, moonless night. As she walked, Elizabeth said thank you to them, even though she doubted they understood her.
The sprae were the only reason her mother, Thea, lived. Thea was a rare and special breed of fae, a kind born only since Piefferburg had been erected. Her life force was dependent upon the sprae, the tiny sentient beings who were drawn to fae energy. The origins of the fae dependent were murky, a result of the goddess Danu’s will alone.
The scent of vegetable stew hit Elizabeth’s nose the moment she cleared the doorway. Her mother turned from the pot on the stove. “And where have you been this evening, my girl?” She waved a hand at clothing draped over a chair. “Go on, get dressed. I have a good stew and some even better bread.” Her mother was used to her strolling around naked, since her water self was the way Elizabeth traveled so often.