Beyond The Veil: A Paranormal & Magical Romance Boxed Set

by Multiple Authors

  Muddy boots come into view, followed by black pants. She peers up and comes face to face with a green-eyed man wearing a black mask. A ski mask.

  “What the fuck?” Sophia’s breath hitches in the back of her throat. “It’s what, eighty-five degrees?” What the hell is this guy doing in the park with a fucking mask on?

  “Shh,” he hisses. “Strega Bianca.” His voice is deep and his Italian accent thick.

  Arms wrap around her upper body. They tighten like unrelenting vise grips. In a matter of seconds, he lifts her off the ground, tossing her over his shoulder.

  He called her something, a Strega Bianca. So what the fuck does that mean? “What the hell are you doing?” Sophia pounds on his back and kicks her legs back and forth. “Put me down.”

  She slides off his shoulder and topples to the ground head first. Her vision blurs and her head throbs.

  He shakes his head, slowly, and then laces his fingers through her hair. Tightening his grip, he drags her into the thicket.

  Sophia screams and claws at her attacker. But she can’t get a good grip because he keeps shaking her as if she were a rag doll. That, and the fact that every square inch of his body is covered in black leather. And the form-fitted gloves, which are smooth and slippery, make it hard to pry his fingers loose. One thought rolls through her head: he’s going to rape me—or kill me—or both. The trail disappears from view. God, no one’s going to find me.

  She wraps her arms and legs around the trunk of a small tree and holds on because she damn sure isn’t going to make this easy for him.

  The man reaches for her. His fingers bite into her bicep. He tugs a couple of times, but she refuses to give up a single inch.

  A searing, hot pain rips through her side and radiates into her chest and back. Her grip loosens, and she’s dragged away from the tree, gasping for air.

  “You cannot fight the order, Strega Bianca.” He forces her down to the ground. “It is time to submit to the darkness.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Sophia kicks her leg forward.

  The man twists to the side and her blow slides off his upper thigh, barely missing his crotch.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.” His foot, it swings forward, and the tip of his boot slams into her side.

  A repeat of the prior pain she felt earlier washes over her body, and she groans. The pain, it takes her breath away for a second time.

  He wraps his gloved hands around her arms and yanks her to her feet. Then he proceeds to shake her body back and forth, once more. The motion makes her teeth rattle in her mouth. When he stops, Sophia slams her forehead into his chin then head butts him. The jarring contact makes her ears ring.

  He relaxes his hold then groans.

  Sophia rips free of his grasp then runs. Long, boney fingers lace through her ponytail, ripping the tie out of her hair. The contact yanks the buds out of her ears.

  Footsteps pound on the ground behind her. They’re close. Too close for comfort. Legs pumping, she sprints at full speed. A single thought comes to mind. The trail is behind me; I’m going the wrong way. But she can’t turn around, so she plods deeper into the thicket, which takes her further away from the path and other joggers.

  Her shoes slide over a mixture of mud and dead leaves. The thicket opens up to a steep incline. She claws at the earth, and her fingers sink into a sludgy mixture of twigs, mud, and dead leaves. Halfway up the embankment, a hand wraps around her ankle and twists her leg. She loses leverage, momentarily, before her nails bite into the soil.

  The man yanks her ankle, ripping her shoe off her foot.

  Her grip slips, and she slides down the damp soil right into his arms.

  “No.” Sophia swallows hard.

  His fingers wrap around the collar of her fitted V-neck shirt. The fabric tears, and she’s dragged under his bulky frame. His hand wraps around her neck.

  “Be still.” Cold green eyes, protruding from the holes in the mask, hold her gaze.

  He’s full of shit if he thinks I’m not going to fight. “Let go of me, you son-of-a-bitch.”

  Sophia seizes the mask and pulls it partially off, exposing a chin covered with blond stubble. Her nails sink into his fleshy face, clawing, and then she rakes her hands across his skin.

  He ushers a low, throaty growl that rumbles deep in his chest. The sound, it’s eerie, inhuman.

  A heavy hand strikes the left side of Sophia’s jaw, whipping her head back. Her vision blurs. Oh God, I can’t black out. I have to fight.

  The tips of her fingers find the opened slits of his eyes. She digs in deep and pulls down.

  He shouts something, but the words sound odd. She doesn’t understand what he’s saying.

  A blinding pain erupts over her left eye socket and cheekbone. Sophia’s knees buckle, and her body sways. The only thing keeping her up on her feet is his body that’s pinning her against the sloped embankment.

  “That wasn’t very nice, Cara,” he whispers in her ear. “Now, do what I tell you.”

  Two of him come into view. Great, I’m seeing double.

  Sophia shakes her head, but a foggy haze continues to cloud her vision.

  The man grabs her wrists then cinches them together with a plastic tie.

  A gust of wind whooshes, filling her ears with a fluttering sound. Her head whips back and her stomach churns. She’s weightless.

  Below her, the ground moves further away. “What the hell are you doing? How are we—?”

  “Tell me where it is.” His hot breath oozes over her skin.

  Weightless, her feet dangle. “What the fuck?” She squirms in his arms.

  “The Book of Light and Shadows, where is it?” His hand closes around her throat then squeezes.

  Grasping his fingers, she pries them loose one at a time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Freeing a knee, Sophia drives it upward just as her uncle taught her.

  The blow is solid, and he releases her.

  Freefalling, her body hits the ground with a heavy thud, knocking the wind from her lungs.

  A solid thump booms nearby. Groaning, the man rolls over. “You’ll pay for that.”

  How the hell did he do that? Drawing her legs underneath her, she crawls on her hands and knees. How did he lift her in the air?

  He grabs her ankle, yanking her back into his clutches. Trees fade in and out of view. Face-to-face, Sophia stares into his green eyes. They’re not right. They’re glowing, but how?

  Her restrained hands fan out across his exposed chest. His skin, it’s rough and cool to the touch. “What the hell are you?”

  He grabs a fistful of hair, yanking her head back. “Tell me where it is, Strega Bianca.”

  “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Ahh...this is interesting.” A predatory grin washes across his face. “You really don’t know what you are, do you?”

  “Let go.” Static electricity crackles in Sophia’s ears and the tips of her fingers tingle.

  “You’re the nascosto, aren’t you?” He snakes a finger down her jawline. “Yes. You are the hidden one. He will be pleased.”

  “The hidden one.” She shakes her head “What are you talking about? Who’ll be pleased?”

  “My master, Meurjôn.”

  Sophia’s body heats up. It feels as if it’s on fire from the inside out. The tips of her fingers pulse. A surge of electricity courses through them then arcs out in front of her.

  The light strikes the man—the creature—and he’s shoved eight feet into the air. Dark shadows form around him. Wings. He has wings. In mid-flight, he twists his body, spins around, and then he dives down.

  Arcs of electricity form on the tips of Sophia’s fingers. Bright sparks of light crackle then surge forward in a steady stream. She shakes her hands, but the arcs continue. A single stream of light forms in the middle of her right hand then jets out and slams into the center of the creature’s chest. He’s flung back several feet and crashes t
o the ground.

  Standing, Sophia runs toward the trail. Leaves and twigs crunch with each step she takes. The pounding of her heart roars in her ears, and her chest heaves.

  Fuck. What was that? She looks down at her hands; they have an amber hue to them. What is this—what the hell just happened? The words rattle around in her head. Oh God, let me make it to the trail. Extracting the phone from her bicep holder, she scrolls through the menu and dials three numbers. Please, let there be bars.

  “911,” a nasally female voice answers the phone.

  “Hello. Hello. Can you hear me?”

  “Please, hold?” The phone clicks.

  “No. You don’t understand. He’s coming.”

  A recording blares in her ears. “All lines are busy. Please wait for the next available representative.”

  “Oh. My. God. No. Please, answer the damn phone.” Sophia’s fingers tremble, and she tightens her hold on the device.

  Leaves crunch behind her, announcing her pursuer’s arrival. God, he’s catching up. Glancing over her shoulder, a looming figure steps between the shadows.

  Tree branches slap at her, snagging her clothing and whip across her face. But she keeps running.

  The terrain changes and she slides down a small embankment. At the base of the slope, she slams into a solid object.

  The phone slips through her fingers and sails across a bed of leaves.

  Strong hands grab hold of her, stopping her fall.

  Oh God, there’s more than one. Her breath catches in the back of her throat. Drawn into a tight embrace, a small sob escapes her parted lips. She twists to the side, but she’s firmly held in place.

  Her bound hands fan out across a muscular chest. “God, please, no.”

  ChapterTwo

  Aden Clarkson

  “I’M NOT GOING to hurt you.” Aden can smell her fear. It’s strong enough that he can almost taste it. But there’s another scent on her, a shifter. Another gargouille—gargoyle. And if he’s right, it’s a Maalik. So, what would a mercenary elitist want with a human?

  Big brown eyes stare up at him.

  Her scent is familiar. She’s the female he and his friend, Logan Van Rosen passed on the jogging trail earlier. He’s seen her all week.

  “Please.” Her lower lip trembles. “He’s coming.”

  “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

  “No.” She swallows hard. “You don’t understand.” Her eyes widen. “He’s not normal.”

  A snaking shadow approaches from the direction of the trail. Her body tenses and she trembles in his arms.

  “Hey. She okay?” A cloud of tension etches Logan’s clean-shaven face.

  “Yeah. She’s just shaken and missing a shoe.” Aden relaxes his hold.

  He skims the length of her body. From what he can ascertain, she’s more shook up than hurt. One shoe on, one shoe off; her white sock is smeared with mud. A mixture of leaves and twigs stick to the bottom of it. But after having a run in with a Maalik, she’s lucky it was just a shoe she lost.

  “My name’s Logan Van Rosen.” Logan steps to the side and wanders deeper into the thicket. He retrieves her phone. Placing the device up to his ear, he begins to speak. “Hello...”

  “Did you get a good look at the guy?” Aden studies her face with an astute eye.

  “No. Not really.” She shakes her head. “He was wearing a mask. But I know he had green eyes and blonde hair. I pulled it off, well, partially.” Her arched brows scrunch together. “But it wasn’t enough to see his whole face.”

  From the erratic beat of her heart—and her increased body temperature—she’s nervous about something. She holding back information, but why?

  “Are you hurt?” He takes hold of Sophia’s bound wrists.

  “No.” She shakes her head. “Just shook up.”

  He draws in a breath and picks up a coppery smell. “You have blood on you.” Slipping a pocket knife under the plastic tie, he frees her bound hands.

  “It’s not mine.” She rubs her wrists where the tie bit into her flesh. “Can you believe the asshole told me to stop fighting? As if that was ever going to be an option.”

  “Then, it’s his blood?”

  “Yeah. I scratched his face trying to get to his eyes.” Leveling her chin, she glances up. “And I managed to knee the bastard in the groin.”

  The corners of his lips tug upward, slightly. “Did you now?” He peers into her big, doe eyes and holds her steady gaze. “I’m Aden Clarkson.”

  “Sophia Mahoney.”

  Aden tilts her head toward the lamp post. “That’s going to swell.” His fingers trace the curve of her cheekbone. Her skin, it’s soft under the tips of his fingers.

  Goose bumps erupt on her skin. “Yeah. He hit me—twice.” Her voice cracks.

  Drawing in a deep breath, his gargouille sips on her scent. Fear no longer dominates the aroma swirling around her. No. There’s something else. He’s picking up traces of an unknown fragrance. She’s sweet, alluring.

  Her eyes, they call to him. She licks her lips—pink, full, kissable lips.

  The beast inside him stirs, it’s drawn to her, but why? Sighing, he pulls her trembling body to his frame, cradling her to his chest.

  “You’re okay,” he whispers in her ear. “You’re safe. And I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you.” His words surprise him. Not because of what he said, but because he meant them with every cell of his body.

  She sucks in a sharp breath of air. Her shoulders roll forward, and her body relaxes. Tears brim her eyes, but she blinks them back.

  Aden brushes a curly lock of dark brown hair from her face then tucks it behind her ear. His eyes lock with hers. There’s a vulnerability in her gaze, an innocence that tugs at him. He presses his lips against her forehead, and the contact makes his flesh tingle.

  “The park police are on their way.” Logan hands her the cell.

  “Thanks.” Grabbing it, her fingers touch Logan’s. An arc of light discharges from the tip of her index finger.

  A surge of static electricity shoots through Aden’s hands, up his arms, and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end.

  “Holy crap.” Her eyes widen. “Did you feel that?” She stares at Logan. “You just shocked the hell out me.”

  Logan shakes his hand. “The police will be here in less than ten minutes.”

  Aden’s body is buzzing with energy, pure energy, magic, but it’s raw. He releases Sophia and takes a few steps back. His eyes trail down to her torn purple jogging blouse. The sport’s bra covers her breasts. But her cheeks flush anyway, and she crosses her arms over her chest.

  Aden pulls off his shirt. “It’s all I have. But you’re welcome to it—if you want it.”

  Her gaze lingers upon his upper body, traveling from his pecs down to his navel. Aden studies her as she looks at him. He clears his throat.

  Glancing up, heat returns to her cheeks. When she takes hold of the shirt, her fingers touch his. A small arc of light flashes. The contact ignites a second spark that flickers and sways on the tip of her finger. It shoots forward and travels through his hand and up to his shoulder.

  Her brows shoot up, and confusion etches her face. “Thanks.” Her word sounds more like a squeak.

  Aden strokes his jaw. “My pleasure.” The stubble under his fingers only adds to the prickling sensation buzzing through his palm and fingers.

  Quickly, Sophia slips the garment over her head and down her body.

  He draws in a deep breath, drinking in her scent. She’s not entirely human, so what is she? Aden places a hand on the small of her back. The warmth of her skin permeates the garment. Magic buzzes around her and spreads out across the palm of his hand. Slowly, he guides her through the thicket. When they step onto the trail, Aden points to a bench. She takes a seat between Aden and Logan, waiting for the police to arrive.

  Sophia relays what happened while they wait. But there’re parts of her story that don’t seem to add up, but Aden’s not su
re why. Perhaps, she’s not sure she can confide in him or Logan. He drapes an arm behind her, resting it on the back of the bench. The heat from her body travels through the fabric of the shirt and warms the palm of his hand.

  When the police arrive, they take Sophia’s statement. One of the human officers pulls out a small kit from a pouch connected to his bike. The policeman methodically scrapes under the surface of each fingernail of her right hand, and then moves onto the nails on her left.

  The officer places the contents in a small, clear bag. He marks it with the date, her name, and the location within Brackenridge Park where the attack took place. The second officer hands her a card, with a case number written on it and his contact information, before the men in uniform ride off down the trail.

  Sophia looks down at her gooey sock-covered foot then sighs. Untying her right shoe, she slides it off. Peeling the muddy sock from her foot, she slips it into her shoe along with the other sock. Huffing, she stands. Glancing at Aden, she flashes a half smile then shakes her head.

  “Well, in the immortal words of Shakespeare—what’s done is done—and can’t be undone.” She tosses the items in a trashcan nearby. “Thanks again.” Turning away from him, she makes her way down the trail barefooted.

  “Hey,” Aden calls out to her. “You shouldn’t be walking alone right now.” He rises and closes the gap between them.

  “Why? Do you think...” Sophia’s voice cracks. “Do you think he’s still out there? Waiting?” Her eyes dart back and forth, scanning the wooded area around the trail.

  Aden samples the air. The lingering scent of her attacker is almost gone, but he’s not ready to part with her, not yet, because he desires to know what she is. “Not sure.” He wants to draw her trembling body into his arms—hold her, comfort her. “It would be safer if you weren’t alone.” The thought of her in danger and vulnerable eats at him.

  “Which direction are you two headed?” She chews on her bottom lip.