Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
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
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Teaser chapter
PRAISE FOR
THE FLAME AND THE SHADOW
“Should appeal to fans of Storm Constantine and Laurell K. Hamilton.”
—Library Journal
“Denise Rossetti has taken the fantasy genre by storm with her print debut. The Flame and the Shadow bursts with action, mystery, and passion.” —Romance Junkies
“I was so captivated . . . I couldn’t put it down. The Flame and the Shadow is darkly intense, warmly romantic, and blazingly erotic.”
—Publishers Weekly’s WW
Ladies Book Club Blurbs
“A dark, erotic tale that is satisfying on many levels. Rossetti’s first installment of the Four-Sided Pentacle series is exciting and full of passion and intrigue. I will be anxiously awaiting the second book.”
—ParaNormal Romance Reviews
“The connection between Cenda and Gray explodes with excitement in this wonderful read.” —The Romance Studio
“Simultaneously heartbreaking and heartwarming. With [characters] who inspire through their own growth a compelling plot and passion as incendiary as the Fire Witch’s power, Denise Rossetti offers readers a novel that is hard to put down until the last page.” —Wild on Books
“Rossetti creates such lovably flawed characters in Cenda and Gray that it is hard not to laugh (and cry) at their expense. The Flame and the Shadow is exceedingly hot! Explicitly hot! Beware to keep a glass of ice water or a cool shower handy so that you can maintain your own cool while the sparks fly. The Flame and the Shadow is the perfect blend of science fiction and erotic fantasy romance.”
—Romance Reader at Heart (Top Pick)
“Denise Rossetti creates an erotic, mystical, futuristic world full of excitement and intrigue, promising even more adventure in the next book in this thrilling series. This is a great read!” —Fresh Fiction
“The erotica is in high supply, and the sexual tension is repeatedly built up and released only to be built again. If you enjoy reading about sensual sex, and like the sex to be flaming hot and steamy, this erotic romance in an unearthly universe will seductively draw you in.” —SFRevu
“Readers will delight in the author’s rich imagination as they are caught up between the dilemmas of the main characters, the fight for power between the magic-wielding Pures and Technomages, and a thorough fall into love.” —Love Romances & More
“Denise Rossetti is a stunning new voice in futuristic romance. She hits the scene with a thrilling view into a magical world of fantasy, magic, and intrigues. I’ve not read anything in romance like it.”
—Night Owl Romance
“Ms. Rossetti has developed an intriguing fantasy world that begs for further stories.” —Eye on Romance
Titles by Denise Rossetti
THE FLAME AND THE SHADOW
THIEF OF LIGHT
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
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.
Copyright © 2009 by Denise Rossetti.
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.
BERKLEY® SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / November 2009
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Rossetti, Denise.
Thief of light / Denise Rossetti.—Berkley Sensation trade paperback ed.
p. cm.
eISBN: 9781101353998
I. Title.
PS3618.O8484T47 2009
813’.6—dc22 2009029846
http://us.penguingroup.com
1
Choose.
When the Lady’s dark velvet voice spoke in Erik’s dream, the power of Her will vibrated deep in his bones. He struck out, jarring his arm as his fist hit the wall next to the bed.
But he didn’t wake.
Anger and dread banged about in his chest. “Choose?” he rasped. “Choose what?” Gritting his teeth, he tried to lever his eyes open, but they were sealed shut. The goddess had him cornered in his own body.
Twenty years ago, My Lord and I gave you a great gift. Or had you forgotten?
Erik stiffened.
A Voice so enchanting, so compelling, it captures the beating heart of all who hear it. And what did you do with this blessing, hmm?
The Lady’s tone dropped to the ear-aching pitch of thunder in the mountains. You made of it a curse. In your vanity and your lust, you spoke a command to an unwilling soul.
“You don’t need to remind me, Great Lady. I know what I did.” Every muscle in his jaw—his neck, his shoulders—locked tight.
Do you, indeed? A huff of displeasure. We see little evidence of this.
Out of the corner of his eye, Erik saw the movement of a graceful, star-
dappled hand, the palm so big he could have curled up in it to sleep.
Or to die.
In the waking world, men trod warily around Erik Thorensen, with his massive shoulders, his chest muscled like a warrior’s. The Dark Lady could snap him in two with the flick of a thought.
Should he risk it? Hell, why not? All he had left to lose was his life.
Bracing himself, he said, “Why not see for Yourself ?”
An impatient exclamation, and the Lady was rummaging around in his head, turning his soul inside out to look at the underside, inspecting all the dirty little nooks and crannies. When Erik groaned in involuntary protest, She withdrew, but without haste.
Another voice, so deep as to be almost below the threshold of human hearing, rumbled, Well?
The Lady turned to Her Lord. No better and no worse than many others. Either the goddess shrugged, or every star in the cosmos shifted in its cold bed. His soul remembers, but his conscious mind chooses to forget. Her voice dropped. He doesn’t think of her if he can help it. Only in his dreams.
Nightmares, more like. Erik squinted into the sparkling nimbus that marked the presence of the Horned Lord. He caught the impression of a vast, nebulous figure, antlers spanning the stars. Without being obvious, he tried to angle himself toward that huge male presence. His heart hammered in his chest, fast heavy beats that hurt.
“I can’t—” Hiding from the gods was useless. He’d learned that lesson at seventeen. “I have to live in my skin, face myself in the mirror, day after fucking day.” Vaguely, he was aware his cheeks were damp. Must be sweat.
He raised his head, resentment burning a sullen hole in his belly. “It’s the way I function, stay sane.” Fuck it all to hell. Say it. “What use is a broken tool, even to the gods? My Lord, when I was a boy and You gave me the Voice, You said You had a task for me. ”
Dead silence.
The Lord’s rumble of anger thundered through every cell in Erik’s body. He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut, willing himself to endure.
But the Lady sounded amused. Only you, Erik. Only you would dare. Little one, you cannot bargain with Us. The sensation of Her smile tingled over his skin, both fond and terrible. The day will come, my dear, when you encounter one you cannot charm, cannot control.
“So?” he panted, still fighting for breath. “Doesn’t matter about anyone else. I have my own rules, and they work for me.” Cautiously, he sat up. “I live. Exist.”
Last chance, growled the Horned Lord. Choose.
Erik set his stubborn jaw. “I want my life to have been worth something. Whatever it is You want, I’ll do it. Just tell me.”
You misunderstand, purred the goddess. You’ve already committed yourself to Our service. The promise you made as a boy cannot be undone.
“Then what—?” He shook his head. “Never mind. What is it I have to do?”
The Pattern is what it is. Beyond even Our touch, said the Lord. You will know your life’s work when the time is right. The weight of the god’s attention was like a solar flare crisping his skin.
“Soon? It will be soon?”
I am not in the habit of repeating Myself.
Erik resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. “It’s all a trifle . . . cryptic.” Nothing like going in blind.
Enough! The goddess moved abruptly, and a freezing wind ruffled Erik’s hair, chilling the sweat on his chest. You cannot know more of your destiny without affecting the balance. It is a different choice We offer you tonight.
Shit, shit, shit. Despite himself, Erik’s hands shook. He laced his fingers together into one big fist, the knuckles white.
Listen well, Erik Thorensen. If it is truly your desire, you will never again compel another with your Voice. We will take it from you.
His heart leaped. Gods, yes! No more rules, no more boundaries, no need to censor every word he spoke, constantly alert lest he . . . slip.
Again.
Inexorably, the Lady continued. By your own actions, Erik, you besmirched the blessing of the Voice. You used it to steal a soul dear to Me.
Judge and jury.
The blessing and the curse cannot be separated. If We take the Voice, you will lose everything. No more of the music, my dear, the music that makes your soul soar.
Executioner.
He couldn’t make a sound, but a full-body shudder raised all the fine hairs on his skin. Because the music was all he was—Erik Thorensen, also called Erik the Golden—that, and the easy, unruffled charm he wore like armor.
When he concentrated, the Voice flowed out of his deep chest like a stream of purest, golden air. It made people think of silk or the best chocolat liqueur from Concordia or the glorious, sliding friction of sublime and endless sex. It was a miracle, that Voice. The rest of the time, he was still a damn fine singer, if a trifle run-of-the-mill.
“No.” All he could produce was a hoarse rasp. “No.”
Despite the way he’d corrupted the gods’ gift, music brought his soul as close to the warmth of human connection as any artifice could do. His magnificent baritone gave him passion that was real, more satisfying than any sex he’d ever had. It kept him sane, focused on the here and now. Without the Voice, there’d be nothing left that was Erik. He’d be a shell that walked and talked, a big golden body women would desire for its own sake. Nothing more.
Hell, there were dark nights of the soul when he suspected he’d already reached that state.
A huge forefinger stroked the length of his naked spine from nape to buttocks, excruciatingly lightly. Erik shivered.
You’re lonely, murmured the Lady. Aren’t you, little one? And yet women tumble in and out of your bed, smiling as they leave.
“Yes,” he said. “But it means nothing. They mean nothing.”
You don’t enjoy sex? asked the Horned Lord. How is this? You control the women, the bedsport. You get the release you need, and all of it on your own terms.
“True, my Lord, but I want . . .”
What? A growl like thunder. More?
Erik gritted his teeth. “I presumed.”
You wield your charm like a weapon. The threatening pressure of the Dark Lady’s disapproval rolled heavily down his spine, bringing with it a drifting scent of ice and ancient stone and warm woman. What need do you have of anything more?
Pressing his lips together, Erik shook his head.
Answer My Lady’s question, rumbled the Lord. Or would you prefer I peer into your miserable soul Myself ?
Fuck, he’d never survive it.
Erik cleared his throat, the heat rising in his cheeks. “There is no one who cares for me, who knows me. The real me.” Humiliation washed over him, a warm, greasy wave. He clamped his mouth shut.
Audiences adore you. You have friends, said the Lady. Grayson, for example.
“I suppose so.” Erik ran a hand through his hair. “Gray’s a good man, but we’re not close, not really.”
It helps if you don’t hold people at arm’s length.
Hell, She was teasing him.
“I have to,” he snapped. “In case I—” He broke off, sucking in a rasping breath. “It’s the price I pay for the Voice. For the music.”
She’d have to be your match, Erik. So she can fight you every delicious step of the way.
“What? Who?”
The woman whose love you crave, the lover whose trust you desire. The very thought of her makes you hard with longing, doesn’t it?
“Don’t be stu—” Erik bit his tongue in the nick of time. “She doesn’t exist. Anyway, she’d have to know. And once she did . . .” He dropped his head, breathing hard. Then he shrugged. “Ah well.”
The Lady’s tone softened, became almost regretful. A moment ago, you chose to keep the Voice, the power to compel any woman to your will. Why not use it?
Insult the Dark Lady and he’d be dead before he hit the floor. But couldn’t She see? Or was She testing him? “Great Lady, You know as well as I do that love compelled cannot be real. How
would I know the difference between what she gave me and what I just . . . took?”
You are finely caught, are you not? The Horned Lord sounded thoughtful, and not particularly displeased. Use the Voice to command what you so deeply desire, and by its very nature, you can never be sure you have it. Neither trust, nor love.
Correct, said the Lady. And yet, We offer you a choice. Think again, Erik. Shall We take the Voice from you?
The Lord’s deep tones: Be very certain, Erik. All or nothing.
Silence fell, so profound Erik thought he could hear the small bright tinkling that was the crystal song of the stars. Or it could have been the mental speech of the gods.
“Without the music, I am nothing, no one,” he snarled. “I’ll keep the Voice—the blessing and the godsbedamned curse.”
2
CARACOLE, QUEENDOM OF THE ISLES,
PALIMPSEST
On the stage of the Royal Theater, a chorus of devils and angels sang their hearts out, but Prue McGuire listened with only half an ear. She didn’t particularly enjoy opera.
“A demon king?” she’d snorted to Rosarina as they settled into their seats before the curtains opened. “The plot doesn’t make sense.” Frowning, she scanned the program. “Why does he carry her off when she wants to go with him anyway? It’s plain silly.”
Like the experienced courtesan she was, Rose had given an elegant shrug. “Who knows?” Her beautiful lips curved. “It’s opera.”
As the queen and her entourage swept into the Royal Box, Prue put her head next to her companion’s. “I got us a discount,” she murmured over the sound of the applause.
Rosarina patted her hand. “And these excellent seats in the bargain.” She surveyed the dozen or so exquisite young people in their box with maternal pride. “Well done, dear.”
“It was an investment,” said Prue. “We’ll get more clients out of this, you’ll see.”
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