Brimstone Prince

by Barbara J. Hancock

  “It’s time. Lily is asking for you,” Sybil said. Did he imagine a softening in her tone toward him? Several centuries of experience with her speech patterns made him more aware than others would be of subtle changes. Then again, she was a beautiful and alluring creature and he was a former king with far too much time on his hands.

  “All is well?” he asked. He acted as if he had expected her arm to slip into the crook of his as they walked back down the path from the stables to the palace. He prided himself on keen observation and an almost preternatural ability to manipulate the future, but Sybil was like time and tide—he’d never seen her wait for a man. Not since her heart had been broken by John Severne’s father. When she took his arm and pressed close against his side, he was surprised...and warmed.

  “There has been an interesting development. I’m to wait and let Lily share the news,” Sybil said.

  Ezekiel knew better than to challenge Sybil when she was wearing the slight curve of a Mona Lisa smile. Instead, he allowed her to lead him into and through the palace. He enjoyed the feminine feel of her body close to his. He had more time for such simple pleasures now. And no matter how long you lived, the beginning of a romance was something to be patiently savored. They walked by the alabaster walls that still startled him with their brightness. He noted that there were additions to the art collection his adopted children and grandchildren had begun to add on the perfect marble backdrop the walls now created. He appreciated the character and warmth the paintings added. He understood why they shied away from sculpture of any kind.

  The walls had stayed white and smooth after Lily’s transition. There was no way to know which of the prisoners had been redeemed or which ones wound up in Oblivion, but they were no longer trapped in the purgatory of the palace’s walls. He hadn’t intended to create a limbo out of anger and the need to avenge Elizabeth’s death. He’d tapped into the power of Lucifer’s wings in an unwholesome way and that’s why they’d never really been his. He hadn’t been truly worthy of the crown. He hoped he had rectified that by giving the wings a queen fit to wear them. So fit that they had become a part of her.

  Finally, he and Sybil arrived at the new royal apartments he’d designed for Lily and Michael. They’d been built around the time he’d built her garden and had lain empty waiting for their queen and her prince. He hadn’t only been focused on his loss. Deep down he’d had hope for the future.

  He wasn’t surprised to find the front living room filled with guests when he and Sybil stepped inside, unannounced. Even without a herald, everyone in the room turned to face him when he entered the room. His D’Arcys—Kat and John Severne and their gangly teen son, Sam, as well as a toddling daughter. The little girl cooed a French lullaby to a ferocious hellhound who could have eaten her in one bite, but instead, lay with his enormous head in her lap. Grim’s puppy. Ezekiel had given him to Kat and John’s son as a birthday present. Victoria and Adam Turov were also present, of course. They looked as striking as ever even with streaks of gray in their hair. He experienced a pang at the gray. One he’d felt before. When you loved humans, you inevitably lost. Sybil squeezed his arm as if she’d noticed his momentary distress. She was nearly as old as he was. She probably had.

  “Lily’s in the bedroom, glad to be home. Michael is with her. Then again, I don’t think he’s left her side since she conceived,” Vic said.

  “The hazard of being married to a man whose father was formerly a guardian angel,” Adam joked.

  “What’s your excuse, love?” Victoria teased. They’d had two other children together after they married. Ezekiel didn’t doubt that Adam Turov had been a fierce protector of his wife when she’d been pregnant. He was a bonafide hero with a following of hundreds if not thousands of people who owed him their lives.

  “Elizabeth and Charles?” Ezekiel asked.

  “They had to return to school, but they promise to visit during summer break,” Vic said. The palace was no longer a place that her children avoided at all costs. In fact, Ezekiel had noticed the younger the child, the less fear they had for different worlds and different beings.

  Yet he still stalled rather than go to Lily’s room. He wanted to see her baby. He wanted to see her and reassure himself that she was fine. But he was experiencing an unusual amount of uncertainty. Of all his adopted offspring, Lily was his greatest treasure. He’d loved her before she’d been born. He’d loved her long and risked everything to give her the throne she deserved.

  “Come on. She has a surprise for you,” Sybil said. Kat came over to take Ezekiel’s other arm and the two women flanked him on the way back to the queen’s bedroom. The royal suite was warm and filled with Southwestern touches that made Ezekiel think of Sophia. When they entered the open door of Lily’s bedroom, the first thing that drew the eyes was a mantel filled with kachina dolls above a cheery fireplace. In the very center of the display was the smallest doll. Unlike the others, it was finely carved in the manner of a Renaissance sculpture. It looked very like Michael Turov, but it had actually been a carving of his daemon father. One of Lily’s Aztec ancestors had seen the fallen warrior angel in a prophetic dream. Ezekiel wasn’t surprised to see the tiny kachina Lily had always treasured in a place of prominence among her belongings.

  “It’s about time you came to welcome them home,” Lily said.

  Ezekiel turned from the mantel to a large chaise where his adopted daughter and heir reclined. He was ancient. He was always. He was the Great Manipulator who had saved the hell dimension from Rogues and the evil intentions of their human slaves, but he was speechless when he saw that Lily Santiago Turov held two bundles in her arms, one on each side.

  “Allow me to introduce Sophia and Samuel,” Michael said with a bow and a gesture toward the babies Lily held. He was dressed in worn jeans and a black T-shirt. It didn’t matter. His bearing was every inch his father’s in that moment—a warrior angel—with the impression of his constantly carried guitar faded onto the back of his shirt. “His cousin Sam gave us permission to use the name again as long as we promised never to shorten it.”

  Ezekiel stepped forward. Kat and Sybil let him go, but when he glanced at them their hands joined to clasp and they drew together as the dear old friends that they’d become in spite of some rocky times they’d experienced in the past.

  Time flowed in unusual ways in the hell dimension and there were pathways between worlds that whispered the secrets of future events, but Ezekiel had been so focused on his plans for Lily that he’d never looked beyond her to a bright alabaster palace and the joyous, growing family that would fill it for generations to come.

  “I’ve succeeded in surprising you. That’s one to record for posterity,” Lily teased. She looked tired, but lovely. Her navy silk gown was covered in stars that had been painstakingly embroidered with silver thread by Sybil’s loving hands. The twins, a boy and a girl, were wrapped in patchwork blankets that looked too fine to have been created by anyone other than the daemon seamstress herself.

  Ezekiel moved to Lily’s side. He didn’t bother to wipe the tears that tried to stream down his face. They turned to steam and evaporated before all but the most astute of observers could notice them. When he reached his adopted daughter, he looked down at the babies and saw hints of both Michael and Lily in their tiny faces. When he touched their cheeks, one was hot and one was cold. There would be interesting days and years ahead as they learned what parts of their fantastic heritage would pass to them.

  “You have given me a great gift this day,” Ezekiel said.

  Michael stood beside him beaming, but also watchful. The former daemon king imagined it might take a Guardian to keep up with two growing children who might manifest interesting abilities.

  “They are the greatest gift,” Lily said. She looked down at her sleeping newborns and then up into Ezekiel’s moist eyes. Hers widened. Perhaps she had seen the tears.

 
; “No. You are the greatest gift. You saved this world. You gave us light and song,” Ezekiel said. “I love you.”

  The whole room seemed to gasp at his declaration. Which was ridiculous. No one loved as a daemon could love and he had loved more than most. He just didn’t make a habit of saying it. Words didn’t do the depth of his feeling justice. They never had.

  “I know,” Lily said. Her dark eyes shimmered with the reflected light of a thousand embroidered stars before he leaned to wrap her and her two babies in his gentlest embrace.

  * * *

  The babies were sleeping. Lily was glad to have a babysitter with Victoria’s ability to sing the perfect lullaby. No challenge she’d ever faced had prepared her for the birth of her twins. After several weeks of motherhood, she was happy to escape the palace for a little while. She followed the pathway Michael and Grim had taken before her. Her wings weren’t capable of flight, but they stretched out behind her and the feeling of flight claimed her as it always did when she thought of her husband.

  She leaped from the pathway onto the desert sand and gloried at the broad expanse of midnight-blue sky and stars that twinkled above her. She and Michael often visited this particular place at night.

  He was waiting where she’d expected him to be with Grim by his side. They were silhouetted against the sky on a small rise over the earth-bermed hideout where she’d first seen his scars.

  “Your mother is brilliant with the babies, you know. I’ll never be able to get them both down and out at the same time,” Lily said. She took her place on the other side of her husband. He reached to welcome her with a strong arm, pulling her against him so the night air wouldn’t chill her.

  “Never is a long time for a daemon queen,” Michael teased. He turned toward her and leaned in silent invitation. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted her when he straightened until he held her above him. She dipped down to kiss his upturned lips. More perfect than any statue. More hers than she’d ever imagined they could be.

  “This night is ours,” Lily said.

  “Ezekiel gave you the sun. I like giving you the stars as often as possible,” Michael said. He placed her feet back on the ground and nudged her toward a plush quilt he’d spread while he waited for her to join him.

  Anticipation tingled along her skin. It joined the lightness in her stomach and the flush from Michael’s Brimstone and the vast sky all around them to make her dizzy. She gladly tumbled to the ground, pulling Michael with her. Tonight they would sleep under the stars, protected by the sword that Michael had stabbed into the ground beside the quilt, their hellhound who stayed silhouetted on the hill and the power of her wings.

  “Ezekiel gave me wings, but you’re the one who taught me to fly,” Lily said.

  Michael’s wicked laughter drifted out into the night to echo down all the pathways from heaven to hell and all worlds in between.

  * * * * *

  And don’t miss any of the

  D’Arcy family’s adventures:

  BRIMSTONE BRIDE

  (Victoria and Adam’s story)

  BRIMSTONE SEDUCTION

  (Katherine and John’s story)

  Available now wherever Harlequin Nocturne books and ebooks are sold!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE WITCH’S QUEST by Michele Hauf.

  Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!

  Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards

  http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Nocturne story.

  You harbor otherworldly desires... Harlequin Nocturne stories delve into dark, sensuous and often dangerous territory, where the normal and paranormal collide.

  Enjoy two new stories from Harlequin Nocturne every month!

  Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

  Other ways to keep in touch:

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  HarlequinBlog.com

  Join Harlequin My Rewards & Instantly earn a FREE ebook of your choice.

  Earn points for every Harlequin print and ebook you buy, wherever & whenever you shop.

  Turn your points into FREE BOOKS.

  Don’t miss out. Reward the book lover in you!

  Register Today & Earn a FREE BOOK*

  *New members who join before December 31st, 2017 will receive 2000 points redeemable for eligible titles.

  Click here to register

  Or visit us online to register at

  http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010001

  The Witch’s Quest

  by Michele Hauf

  Chapter 1

  The gnarled oak tree behind her looked...angry.

  Valor Hearst straightened her shoulders and tried to avoid turning around to cast a glance at the disgruntled tree. Because the moment she started to look closer, things could become real. Especially in an enchanted forest such as the Darkwood.

  She knelt on the forest floor, carefully plucking the Amanita muscaria mushrooms from a thick and curly frosting of moss. Normally, she would wear gloves to remove the poisonous red-capped shrooms, but having forgotten them, she instead used an entomologist’s tweezers.

  Dried yet still-glossy trails from snails streaked across a head-size fieldstone, which she scraped into a plastic baggie. The powder would serve as another fine ingredient for future spells. She’d decided that since she had risked coming here, she’d take a few minutes to gather spell ingredients before settling down to do the real work: enacting a spell that would, with hope, lure love her way.

  Valor had never dared enter the Darkwood, but on this day she was feeling her confidence and was pretty sure that the warnings against witches venturing into the enchanted forest were nothing more than blather. Mortals and other paranormals visited the darkly mysterious woods all the time. She was no different from any of them. Save that her air magic packed a wallop when need be.

  “So take that,” she said, yet still couldn’t avoid a suspicious glance over her shoulder.

  Had the tree’s bark curved downward in chunky folds to form a craggy frown? She narrowed her gaze, which was followed by her own frown. The bark hadn’t been shaped that way when she first knelt down before the mushrooms.

  Maybe?

  “Quit spooking yourself,” she muttered. “Crazy witch.”

  The Darkwood was off-limits to and unsafe for witches. That was what her friend and fellow earth witch Eryss Norling had said to her last night when they closed the Decadent Dames brewery together and wandered out to the parking lot under the half-moon.

  Valor happened to be attracted to most things that were off-limits and unsafe. Whether they be events, challenges or even men. Most especially men.

  She tucked the red-capped mushrooms into her fishing tackle box. It was painted in olive green camo and might have a fishhook or two in it, as well—ice fishing in the wintertime? Yes, please. But she mostly used it to collect herbs and spell ingredients. A tiny jade cricket that she had disturbed from sleeping under a mushroom leaped onto the edge of the tackle box.

  “You’re lucky you have a heartbeat,” she said to the insect. “Otherwise, I’d pulverize your wings and use the dust in a spell.”

  The insect chirped and hopped off to a more private leaf.

  And Valor pulled out a small mason jar half-filled with angel dust to use as a marker for the ritual sigil she now intended to create. A collection of rose petals she had gathered surreptitiously from a floral shop before heading out here today would also serve in the design.

  No time to back out
now. She’d come here with the intent of finally serving herself what she deserved. “Here’s to love.”

  Cupping a handful of fine angel dust and funneling it through her curled fingers, she marked out on the thick moss the pattern that she’d studied in her great-grandma Hector’s grimoire. Small, smoky quartz crystals were then placed at the compass points and rose quartz along the borders of the sigil. She kissed and blessed the flower petals, then placed them on the moss.

  Leaning back to inspect her work, she decided the design looked much like a voodoo veve. But this sacred sigil, infused with her light magic, would wield so much more power.

  She didn’t notice the darkening sky as she laid a crow foot, a mouse rib and a dried rat heart at the center of the sigil. Red and pink candles were tucked into the moss, and with a snap of her fingers they ignited. So she had a little fire magic to her arsenal, as well. It was just for small tasks. A witch should never risk invoking more fire than she could handle.

  Now the invocation—

  Valor’s hand slipped on the thick moss, and her leg suddenly slid out from under her kneeling position. She hadn’t made such a move. Something tugged her ankle roughly.

  She slapped the moss with both palms and yelped as her body slid backward across the forest floor, dragging her hands through angel dust, petals and crystals. Twisting at the waist, she searched in the dimming light. One of the tree roots had wrapped about her ankle, clasping the leather combat boot in a painful pinch.

  “What in all the goddess’s bad hair days?” She kicked at the root with her free foot.

  And then the frowning bark opened wide and growled at her. The tree had a merciless hold on her. And the root only grew tighter about her ankle.

  Valor had heard of faery trees. And this woods was a place where the sidhe mingled with those from the mortal realm. Another reason she’d been warned away. Faeries who did not live in the mortal realm generally didn’t like witches.