Gray looked at him, pale as death and shivering uncontrollably. “Don’t let Christophe get away with this.”
“I won’t.”
Iskander grinned down at the boy. Ian nodded and reached a hand to one of the blue stripes down his face. Iskander stilled, and the smile on his face vanished. “A mage?”
“A matter to be dealt with later,” Durian said.
Iskander put a bloody hand on Emily’s shoulder and looked at Durian with a definite smirk. “Come on, witch. Let’s get a move on. Gray, I hear you might know a back way out.”
She nodded. She wasn’t drawing from his magic anymore because she knew he needed every bit of magic he had in order to deal with Christophe. “Leonidas.” She gestured. “Go with my sister. Please? They need your help. You know that.”
Leonidas nodded.
But they were too late. Christophe came running up the stairs, his bodyguards behind him. Leonidas lifted a hand and Christophe slid to a stop as if he’d slammed into something hard. He shouted. “Stop them!”
“Iskander,” Durian said. He pulled his magic, feeling Gray’s there too. Both kinds. “Take the boy and get out of here.”
He obeyed instantly, turning on his heel and heading for the back way out of the house.
Christophe’s tattooed arms came down, and he ripped through whatever Leonidas had done that had stopped him. He pointed at Gray. “Kill them. The assassin, the woman.”
Gray stepped in front of her sister. “Emily, run!”
“Christophe dit Menart,” Leonidas said. “Stop this. Before it is too late to save you.”
“Do it now.” Christophe motioned to his bodyguards. “You. All of you. Kill them all but Erin.”
Emily walked toward Christophe. The hallway wasn’t wide enough for his magehelds to carry out their orders without risking harm to her, and Christophe knew it because he raised a hand to stop them. His bodyguards halted.
“Who am I?” Emily said.
“My wife.” Christophe held out his hands.
“And before that?” She held up the photo of her and Gray, her hand trembling. “Who was I before that?”
“A trick. That is a trick.”
The air around the witch shimmered. “You’re lying to me, Christophe.” She touched the side of her head. “You’ve lied to me all along, haven’t you?”
“Emily,” Gray whispered. “No.”
“I love you.” Christophe said. She walked up to him and put her hand on her husband’s face. “I love you,” he said. He didn’t move. He could have saved himself. “Until my last breath, I love you.”
“I loved you, too.” And then she released her magic.
The fighting still going on downstairs cut off. Kynan cried out once. Just once, and then the house was silent as the grave.
Emily walked away from her husband’s body. “Get me out of here.”
CHAPTER 36
A few hours later. Broadway near Baker Street, San Francisco
Gray sat up when she heard Durian come in the bedroom. Most of the drive from Christophe’s house to here was lost in a blur of the aftereffects of being severed. More symptoms kicked in after the adrenaline rush of the events at Christophe’s house wore off. Then she’d just about collapsed.
She didn’t remember Durian bringing her here, though she knew he must have. Her brain felt mushy and her entire upper body hurt whenever she inhaled. The hallway door closed after him. She listened to the sound of him setting his keys on the desk in the anteroom. The silence closed in on her until she wasn’t sure what to think or say or do. Durian walked into the bedroom.
She stayed where she was. He was blocking himself and that made her heart fall.
“Durian.”
He faced her, expression unreadable. She felt cold to the bone. “How are you feeling?”
“You should know that,” she said in a soft voice. If she sounded accusing, well, she was justified. The only reaction she got was a downward flicker of his eyelids. Jesus, her heart was going to crumble to ash. “But since you ask, I feel like crap.”
He gave a slight nod. “Nikodemus is here.”
“And?”
“We had a great deal to discuss.”
“Like what?”
“We spent an inordinate amount of time going over the events of the last several hours. What happened exactly when and in what order.” A wisp of frustration leaked from him. “In infinite detail.”
“If I were him,” Gray said, “I’d want to know where I stand with you.”
He stilled, then walked closer to the futon. She stayed sitting. He stayed standing. “We discussed your sister.”
“Is she all right? Where is she? What happens to her now?”
“Nothing. Nikodemus has no obligation to keep the magekind safe from their own.”
“Thank God.” Her sister was going to be staying here for the time being. Both Maddy and Leonidas had agreed that given Emily’s pregnancy no one should push her to remember anything by means magical or otherwise. She’d remembered a few things. Nothing major, but the hope was that as the hold Christophe’s magic had over her dissipated over time, she might recall more on her own. Gray’s throat dammed up. When she could talk again, she said, “It’s stupid for you to be standing up.” She stretched out a hand and patted the bottom of the futon. “Sit.”
After a moment’s consideration, he did, facing her in a cross-legged position. She drew up her knees and folded her arms around her shins. He was relaxing, she thought, and not holding on so tightly to his blocks. Durian actually smiled, and he was just so beautiful she thought she might cry. He gave a small nod and then silence fell between them once again. He started to speak, stopped, then started again. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Durian was having difficulty mastering his emotions. “Carson is here.”
She didn’t say anything right away. “Is she?”
“She has agreed to sever us. She’s waiting downstairs.”
“You’re trying to be all noble and shit, aren’t you?”
“I have very little experience with a situation like ours.”
“Well, maybe you should cut it out and just go with it. Have you thought about that?” She got off the bed and walked to the stone table to stare at the photograph of the poppy. “I get that you’re trying to offer me freedom from any bonds to the kin but the one to Nikodemus. That one has to stay in place.”
His eyebrows quirked. “Yes, as to both.”
“Maybe I should be all noble, too. Is that what you want? For me to be footloose and fancy free?”
Durian unfurled himself from the bed. He walked toward her. Gray held up a hand, but he kept coming. He didn’t stop until he was inches from her. His hands moved around to her back, the fingers of one hand sliding under her shirt to touch her bare skin. Then he moved away, dropping his hands from her.
“We can do that. Both be all noble.”
“Gray. This is not a decision to be made in passion.”
“Why the hell not?” She put her hands on her hips. “Seems to me that passion is exactly what’s called for right now. So, answer me. Total truth, Durian. Do you want Carson to sever us?”
He gave her the stare of doom.
She rolled her eyes. “Because it isn’t what I want. I wouldn’t have let you try to knock me up if I thought for a minute I wanted that.” She crossed to him, grabbed his head and tangled her fingers in his hair. “You listen to me, I’m going to say this once and that’s it. Think about what you want. Be selfish as hell. If you want us to be severed, we’ll go down there right now and get it done. Otherwise, I’m not interested in what Carson has to offer.”
“No,” he said. “I don’t want that.”
“Good.” She twined her arms around his shoulders but he didn’t smile or look like they’d solved their issue at all. “Now what? Seriously, you are amazingly high maintenance.”
“You have a great deal of magic. Of both kinds. You needn’t live as I do. If you don’t wa
nt to. It’s enough for Nikodemus that your killing magic is bound over to him. You could choose to work with Maddy or Leonidas. If you so desire.”
“Yeah, I guess I could.” She stroked the side of his face. “But the way I see it, that’s something we can do together. The way it is right now, it’s our magic, right?”
“Yes.” He stepped closer to her. “I will allow that you are right about that.”
“I’m right about a lot of things.” She exhaled slowly. “Let me be clear, Durian. I love you. Magic doesn’t change that.”
“You should be aware that as we are now, without your oath of fealty to me, you are sworn to Nikodemus through me.”
“I’m okay with that.” She pulled his head down until she could feel his breath across her face.
“Excellent.”
The first touch of his lips on hers sent her mind spinning. She opened her mouth under his and kissed him back. His body was warm against hers, his mouth hot. She put her arms around his neck and brought them closer, sliding her tongue into his mouth to be met. God, yes. He kissed her tenderly, then not so tenderly, and his hands were on her ass, along her sides, over her breasts, then sliding over her nipples and he damn near drove her insane just touching her and kissing her.
One of his hands headed for the fly of her jeans, but she stopped him. “Isn’t there something you need to do first, Assassin?”
He pulled away and looked directly into her eyes. “I love you, Gray. More than life.”
She laughed. “I love you, too, but that isn’t what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“You need to call Carson and politely send her on her way. Tell her we decided thanks but no thanks.”
“Ah.”
She threaded her fingers through his hair and sucked in a sharp breath when he opened himself to her. The trickle of magic between them turned into a river.
“You are correct.” He pulled out his phone and touched the screen. “I was distracted. It won’t happen again.”
His call to Carson was very polite. And mercifully short. Probably because while he was delivering his news to Nikodemus’s witch, Gray was arranging herself on the futon, waiting for her immortal assassin to join her.
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
Thanks must go out to my family for their support, especially to my nieces and nephew, Dylan, Lexie, and Hannah for looking so impressed when they see my books on the shelves. I love you guys! My son puts up with a lot from me. I think he does it for the chocolate and pizza, but also because he’s a great kid. When I needed help with things medieval French, Eric Edelstein came through for me; thanks very much! My agent, Kristin Nelson, is amazing and wonderful and her support makes more difference than you can imagine. Thanks as well to my editor, Michele Bidelspach, for her insights and suggestions that make a better book.
Dear Reader,
Iskander is finally getting his life back after his bond to his blood-twin was severed in order to save what was left of his sanity.
Most of the time he’s completely normal. He works very hard at it. He has his own place and he can even spend time alone there without losing his mind. The woman who rents the apartment over his garage is completely normal. Just your average, everyday woman. But smoking hot, not that he would notice that. (Right.) She’s also too nice for her own good. It’s a testament to how far Iskander’s come that he’s always able to pass for human when she’s around. Mostly.
Be sure to check out Iskander’s story. It’s called My Dangerous Pleasure, and it’s available in January 2011. And for more information about Durian, Iskander, Kynan, and the others, check out my website at www.carolynjewel.com. You’ll find character backgrounds, scenes that didn’t make it into the final version and other cool stuff I happen to think of or that people suggest. (Hint! Hint!) If you have questions or comments, e-mail me (please!) at [email protected]. And thanks.
THE DISH
Where authors give you the inside scoop!
From the desk of Vicky Dreiling
Dear Reader,
The idea for HOW TO MARRY A DUKE came about purely by chance. One fateful evening while surfing 800+ channels on TV, I happened upon a reality show featuring a hunky bachelor and twenty-five beauties competing for his heart. As I watched the antics, a story idea popped into my head: the bachelor in Regency England (minus the hot tub and camera crew). The call to this writing adventure proved too irresistible to ignore.
During the planning stages of the book, I encountered numerous obstacles. Even the language presented challenges that meant creating substitutes such as bridal candidates for bachelorettes. Obviously, I needed to concoct alternatives to steamy smooching in the hot tub and overnight dates. But regardless of the century, some things never change. I figured catfights were fair game.
Before I could plunge into the writing, I had to figure out who the hero and heroine were. I picked up my imaginary remote control and surfed until I found Miss Tessa Mansfield, a wealthy, independent young woman with a penchant for matchmaking. In the short preview, she revealed that she only made love matches for all the ignored wallflowers. She, however, had no intention of ever marrying. By now I was on the edge of my seat. “Why?” I asked.
The preview ended, leaving me desperate to find out more. So I changed the metaphorical channel and nearly swooned at my first glimpse of Tristan Gatewick, the Duke of Shelbourne. England’s Most Eligible Bachelor turned out to be the yummiest man I’d ever beheld. Evidently I wasn’t alone in my ardent appreciation. Every eligible belle in the Beau Monde was vying to win his heart.
To my utter astonishment, Tristan slapped a newspaper on his desk and addressed me. “Madam, I am not amused with your ridiculous plot. Duty is the only reason I seek a wife, but you have made me the subject du jour in the scandal sheets. How the devil can I find a sensible bride when every witless female in Britain is chasing me?”
I smiled at him. “Actually, I know someone who can help you.”
He scoffed.
I thought better of telling him he was about to meet his match.
Cheers!
www.vickydreiling.net
From the desk of Carolyn Jewel
Dear Reader,
Revenge, as they say, is a dish best served cold. If you wait a bit before getting your payback, if you’re calm and rational, you’ll be in a better position to enjoy that sweet revenge. The downside, of course, is what can happen to you while you spend all this time plotting and planning. Some emotions shouldn’t be left to fester in your soul.
Gray Spencer is a woman looking to serve up revenge while the embers are still glowing. She has reason. She does. Her normal, everyday life got derailed by a mage—a human who can do magic. Christophe dit Menart is a powerful mage with a few hundred years of living on her. Because of him, her life has been destroyed. Not just her life, but also the lives of her sister and parents.
After she gets her freedom at a terrible cost, the only thing Gray wants is Christophe dit Menart dead for what he did—before he does the same horrific thing to someone else that he did to her.
I know what you’re thinking and you’re right. A normal, nonmagical human like Gray can’t hope to go up against someone like Christophe. But Gray’s not normal—not anymore. She escaped because a demon gave his life for her and in the process transferred his magic to her. If she had any idea how to use that magic, she might have a chance against Christophe. Maybe.
The demon warlord Nikodemus has negotiated a shaky peace agreement between the magekind and the demonkind. (Did I mention them? They are fiends, a kind of demon. And they don’t take kindly to the mages who kill them in order to extend their miserable magic-using human lives by stealing a demon’s life force.) Because of the peace, demons in Nikodemus’s territory have agreed not to harm the magekind. In return, the magekind aren’t supposed to kill any more demons.
Basically the problem is this: Gray intends to kill Christophe, and the demon warlord’s most feared assassin has t
o make sure that doesn’t happen.
Uh-oh.
After all that, I have what may seem like a strange confession to make about my assassin hero who is, after all, a wee bit scary at times. He’s been alive for a long, long time, and for much of that time, women lived very restricted lives. Sometimes he is completely flummoxed by these modern women. It was a lot of fun writing a hero like that, and I hope you enjoy reading about how Christophe learns to deal with Gray as much as I enjoyed writing about it.
Yours Sincerely,
http://www.carolynjewel.com
From the desk of Sophie Gunn
Dear Reader,
After years living in upstate New York, my husband got a new job and we moved back to my small hometown outside of Philadelphia. I was thrilled to be near my parents, brothers, aunts, uncles, and cousins. (Hi, Aunt Lillian!) But I didn’t anticipate how close I would be to quite a few of my former high school classmates. Didn’t anyone ever leave this town? My life had turned into a nonstop high school reunion.
And I was definitely still wearing the wrong dress.
One by one, I encountered my former “enemies” from high school. They were at the gym, the grocery store, and the elementary school bake sale. It didn’t take long to realize two things. First, we had a blast rehashing the past. What had really happened at that eleventh-grade dance? What had become of Joey, the handsome captain of the football team? (Surprise, there he is now. Yes, he’s the one walking that tiny toy poodle on a pink, blinged-up leash!) Second, we were still terrifically different people, and it didn’t matter. We were grown-ups, and what someone wore or whom they dated didn’t feel so crucial anymore.
Cups of coffee led to glasses of wine, which led to true friendship. But friendship that was different from any I’d ever known, because while we shared a past, our presents were still radically different. My husband started to jokingly call us the Enemy Club, and it stuck.
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