“I love you,” he murmured close to her ear, and felt her slight shiver and caught her sweet womanly scent. “When we are finished with this nonsense, I will steal you away.”
“Behave.” She elbowed him and he chuckled.
He straightened, but continued to look at her, even as he was supposed to be paying attention to Hark, who was about to lead the small formal ceremony.
Hannah wore the Brooch of Aithne, the large diamond glittering against one shoulder strap of her black clothing.
She called the revealing creation an evening dress. It was cut low in the front, ending just above the swells of her breasts. The dress bared her back from her shoulders to the base of her spine and the hem barely reached her mid-thigh and a short slit revealed part of one thigh.
Thin straps held her shoes to her feet, and the heels, adorned with diamonds, were so high he did not know how she could stand, much less walk in them.
Garran was not so certain he wanted any male to see as much of her soft skin as the dress exposed. No matter that most Drow women wore very little. Somehow Hannah was more enticing in this piece of clothing than a naked woman was. As if hiding just enough of her to make a man crazy to strip it off.
Hannah’s dark brown hair fell straight to her shoulders, the shock of blond hair defining her elegant features. On her upper arm, as always, she wore her moon and crescent arm-band. She gave the only sign of nervousness thus far when she brought her fingers to the band and stroked it.
He ached at the thought of those small fingers stroking him and he gritted his teeth and forced his thoughts away from making love to Hannah.
When preparing for the ceremony, Garran had settled his crown upon his head. Several millennia ago his ancestors forged the crown from yellow and white gold, the strands interwoven and forming an unbroken circle.
Garran had donned his finest leather breeches and boots, and his leather and gem-encrusted straps crisscrossed his chest.
He turned his attention to Hark, who wore the black tunic and breeches of the Directorate. The only difference from what he wore daily was a large gold medallion that hung from his throat, indicating his station in the ceremony.
The room quieted as Hark ascended the dais until he stood in front of Hannah and Garran.
“On this most auspicious day, we welcome into our realm Hannah Wentworth, D’Anu witch.” Hark’s voice echoed in the great hall. “She who willingly gave her life essence and her love to our king so that he might live.”
Mild surprise filtered through Garran at Hark’s words as he acknowledged what Hannah had done for him and his people. A soft murmur rolled through the room as no doubt his revelation had astonished many of the Dark Elves.
Hark’s smile appeared genuine as he looked upon Garran’s mate. “Hannah of the D’Anu,” the leader of the Directorate continued, “has proven to be most worthy of being Queen of the Drow.”
Garran felt Hannah’s slight trembling as her arm was firmly against his. He took her hand and squeezed it and she squeezed his in return.
Hark turned, his back to Hannah and Garran, as he reached down to take what was handed to him from a woman at the foot of the dais.
When he faced Garran and Hannah again, Hark held a smaller circlet that matched Garran’s.
Hark settled the crown on Hannah’s dark hair. “Today, Hannah is made our new queen, and we pay homage to her.”
Pride swelled within Garran’s chest and he gripped her hand tighter as he felt her shaking increase. Hark stepped back and knelt, his head bowed in respect.
Garran glanced at Hannah as everyone in the hall knelt and lowered their heads, as well.
Hannah’s lips trembled. “I don’t know what to do, Garran,” she whispered.
“Smile,” Garran murmured, “and give a slight nod of acknowledgment.”
She did as he instructed her to, her lips still trembling as she smiled.
Hark rose to his feet again. “We welcome you, Queen Hannah.”
Applause and cheering broke out in the hall, loud enough to make his ears ring. Garran took Hannah and wrapped her in his embrace before kissing her long and hard. The applause and cheering grew louder.
When Garran raised his head and looked down at Hannah, he saw that a blush had stained her cheeks red.
She parted her moist lips and her eyes were bright. “I love you, Garran.” He smiled, and she added, “Now get me off this thing.”
Cheers continued and Hannah’s knees did that blessed trembling thing as she held Garran’s hand.
Cool, collected, calm.
To hell with that.
Sights and sounds blurred and her mind spun with the magnitude of what she’d just done. She’d married a king.
The Drow King.
And by the Ancestors, she was now a queen.
She was wondering how she was going to manage the stairs in three-inch heels with her legs shaking just before Garran swooped her up in his arms.
Another cheer rose and Hannah gave a cry of surprise as his powerful arms embraced her and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
He looked at her and gave her his sexy, cocky grin and she smiled back. He held her tight as he carried her into the crowd that surged toward the entrance to the underground city.
Countless people congratulated them as they moved through the crowd, including her sister witches, the D’Danann, and Jake. All of the voices and faces shifted into a complete blur.
“Our people will celebrate our joining in the city,” Garran said.
“Our people.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can get used to that.”
“They will love you as their queen.” He began to navigate in a different direction from the crowd—toward the hallway that led to his bedroom. “I can think of a better way to celebrate.”
She couldn’t have been happier than to slip away with him, away from the craziness of the event.
When they reached his room, Garran used one hand to slam the door before he carried her across the chamber. He set her on her unsteady Jimmy Choo heels and grasped her face in his hands before kissing her long and hard.
Hannah moaned and sank against him, bracing her palms on his bare flesh between the leather straps crisscrossing his chest. His skin was warm and tingles radiated throughout her.
“Hannah,” he whispered as he slipped his hands into her hair. “My sweet one, my queen.”
“My king,” she said softly. “In every way.”
They neared the bed and her eyes widened in surprise. The bed was covered with the rare blue-tipped orchids she had learned were only to be found in the realm of the Light Elves.
“A gift from the Guardian.” He settled Hannah down in the middle of the soft petals that welcomed her in a gentle caress. “To lie in a bed of orchids on your joining night is considered good luck.”
She held her arms up to him. “I have all the luck I need.”
Garran moved onto the bed beside her and brought her into his embrace as his gaze held hers.
She could barely breathe as she looked into his liquid silver eyes. His earthy male scent intoxicated her to the point she felt almost dizzy with it. She reveled in the feel of his arms wrapped around her and how his embrace made her feel secure and loved.
“You have my love always, my queen,” Garran said as he brushed his lips over hers.
Hannah smiled, her heart aching with more happiness than she’d ever felt in her life. “I’ve found my home with you. And you will always have my love.”
Excerpt: The Dark
Dark Sorcery series
Cheyenne McCray
1
San Francisco
* * *
Jake Macgregor tightened his grip on his Glock as he eased through the shadows, the midnight broken only in patches where moonlight squeezed its way through the clouds. The closest streetlight’s glow didn’t touch him.
Moist air chilled his face and his hands, but adrenaline and his raid suit kept the rest of his bo
dy warm.
Members of his reconnaissance team fanned out beside him in front of homes on each side of their target, slipping by cars parked in front of the garage-level entrances on Kearny.
Several officers from the Paranormal Special Forces that he captained comprised half his team. The other half—
Magical beings.
The PSF officers, gray magic D’Anu witches, D’Danann warriors, and Dark Elves now called themselves the Unified Otherworlds Alliance, or just the Alliance.
The only witch missing was Cassia, who had vanished to Otherworld after the last big battle against the dark sorcery and chaos threatening San Francisco. His gut tightened every time he thought of Cassia. She was such a mystery, a mystery he wanted to solve.
Jake blinked. Why was he thinking about her now? He wasn’t even sure he could trust the witch after her past deceptions.
Six D’Danann warriors had unfurled their powerful wings to circle the target home, and the fire escape in the back from above. Once they took to the sky, the warriors became invisible to human sight, including Jake’s.
The rest of the Alliance flanked him on the ground or guarded the back door and the gate to the minuscule alleyway.
A sense of déjà vu swept over Jake as they crept up to the historic home. Months ago, he’d been on a similar mission, preparing to raid an older apartment building. At that time, the only magical being who had accompanied the PSF had been Silver Ashcroft, one of the D’Anu witches.
That was the night Jake first realized someone was practicing dark magic at a whole new level in his city. That night everything changed—and not for the better.
This time they prepared to enter a well-kept home in a nice San Francisco neighborhood near Union and Kearny. With space at a premium in the densely populated but relatively small city, the house was like many homes here—squeezed between similar three-story houses.
The houses were packed along a typical steep incline, which wasn’t exactly optimum for a raid. But at the same time it would be difficult for anyone inside to escape—the only ways out were the front door and the three levels of upstairs windows.
What could hardly be deemed an alleyway in the back had a locked gate for an exit—the only possible rear egress.
On this stretch of the street, residents normally kept the sidewalks and the fronts of their homes in good condition, and any bushes and trees well maintained.
In light of the hell the city had been through recently, Jake wasn’t surprised the neighborhood didn’t look so perfect anymore.
All those months ago, they had been searching for Darkwolf at an apartment building. They were searching for him now, too.
Years ago, white witch Kevin Richards had picked up Balor’s stone eye on the shores of Ireland. From that moment on, the man who was now known as Darkwolf had become a dark god’s pawn.
Only now, the warlock had obtained both the dark god’s and his goddess wife’s magic, powers so great that it was nearly incomprehensible. With the magic of two gods, how powerful had Darkwolf become?
That’s what they had to find out.
A flash of lightning followed by a rumble of thunder rolled through what had been a slightly foggy but cloudless night. Wind kicked up, bringing with it the sudden smell of rain.
And something else. Something musty and bitter. Like wet laundry soured from sitting too long.
Jake glanced at the sky. The clouds swirled overhead—almost as if a funnel cloud were gathering. Which was impossible considering they were in San Francisco.
Something was off, not right about that storm, and his skin grew tight.
Just like it had in that small Middle Eastern village.
Maybe he was overreacting. He turned his attention back to the house and the mission. Soft yellow light spilled through uncovered windows on the first floor above the garage.
Jake crept up the three steps to the entrance and peered through the vertical six-inch-wide pane to the right of the door. No curtain obstructed his view.
He frowned. No movement, no activity. And if this was Darkwolf’s base of operations, why would the home be lit up and the windows not covered?
Keeping his voice low, Jake spoke into the microphone attached to his raid suit. “Everyone in position?”
He counted the number of affirmatives as they came into his earpiece. Only eighteen of his men and women answered, which didn’t include the magical beings. Mentally he ran through the voices of his team. Marks and Taylor hadn’t answered.
Jake called to the two PSF officers who were part of the team covering the rear of the house. “Marks. Taylor. Are you in position?”
No response.
“Negative visual contact,” came Ricker’s low tone.
A prickling sensation rolled up Jake’s spine as gut instinct took hold.
Either their information was wrong—or someone had leaked their plans.
He paused one moment as the realization sunk in.
This wasn’t the warlock’s headquarters.
It’s a trap.
The slaughter of the men in his U.S. Marine Force Recon squad outside that Afghani village flashed through his mind. He’d led them into a dark-magic trap, something he’d never been able to forgive himself for.
No fucking way. He couldn’t let it happen again.
“Get your asses out of here,” Jake growled in his microphone as he scanned the street behind him. “It’s a setup!”
He turned and scanned the area. No sign of an attack. No one on the street but the Alliance.
But it wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right.
His heart nearly exploded when he caught the smell of dark magic. Evil magic.
Not again. Not again. Not again.
Another flash of lightning cracked the sky as Jake moved away from the house. Thunder growled, so loud it seemed to surround them. Wind blasted them and rain rushed down in a sudden torrent.
Water funnels spouted from the rain.
Water funnels.
A mass of them.
They barreled straight for the house and the members of his team.
“Oh, my goddess,” one of the witches shouted—Rhiannon. “They’re going to attack. Those funnels or whatever’s inside them.”
“Fuck!” someone cried out, followed by an “Oh, shit,” from another voice, and then more shouts and screams.
Jake’s pulse jacked as one of the funnels reached him. It came to an abrupt stop. Water hit Jake in the face with a hard slap. A naked being appeared—from inside the funnel. Some kind of creature that changed from water into the form of a man.
Water that had surrounded the being sprayed in all directions, then splashed to the concrete with the rest of the rain.
The naked being drove a dagger toward Jake’s throat, above his Kevlar vest.
Jake ducked to the side but the blade sliced his right biceps, below his Marine tattoo, close to a healing wound. Pain seared his arm.
At the same time the assailant struck, Jake had raised his Glock and aimed for one of the two points usually good to bring down a supernatural asshole—the heart.
The creature twisted into a funnel before Jake got off a shot. He sighted a spot where the thing’s head used to be, but he didn’t see so much as the outline of a skull.
What the—
He didn’t have time to think as the funnel moved around him in a circle. Jake’s pulse raced as wind and rain continued to pummel him. It was difficult to maintain firm footing on the street’s steep incline.
His officers, witches, and other magical beings fought the funnel-creatures. Witch-magic blazed and sparked, illuminating the night in eerie flashes. Gunshots cut the air along with screams, shouts, battle cries.
Jake crouched just in time when the funnel came to a stop and water splashed him hard. The naked being struck out again with its dagger. Moonlight gleamed off an almost crystal-like blade as it missed Jake.
He squeezed the Glock’s trigger, his shot ringing through the nig
ht, mingling with all of the other sounds.
His bullet hit home. The being dropped—and solidified into the form of a flesh-and-blood male. Red blossomed above his heart, over a large tattoo on his chest, the pounding rain turning the blood pink.
A flicker of surprise sparked in Jake. These assholes didn’t turn to silt and vanish like all of the other screwed-up things the Alliance had been fighting the past several months.
It had only taken a second for the man to go down. Jake’s skin crawled and he whirled to see two more water funnels barreling down on him.
The funnels stopped simultaneously and two hard splashes hit Jake, almost knocking him on his ass. He swept out his leg, bringing one creature down as he shot at the other. The second being had already twisted into a funnel and the bullet went straight through the water
Jake jerked his gun back to the being he had downed. It was getting to its feet, but Jake shot the creature in the heart before it could transform. The other funnel stopped behind Jake.
Instinctively, Jake dropped and rolled onto his back while keeping his gun clear. He shot the man point-blank in his forehead, blowing the back of his head off.
In one glance, Jake saw the devastation to his team and some of the funnel-beings—or whatever they were—as the battle raged. Dead bodies littered the street while gunshots still echoed. The night lit up with glittering magic as the witches attempted to use their magic ropes and spellfire. They protected themselves with spellshields when they failed.
Heads of funnel-beings rolled down the street. Invisible Fae warriors swung swords to decapitate the creatures when a funnel stopped.
Rain poured and wind blasted them as another funnel barreled Jake’s way.
The funnel-beings seemed to be feeding off the water and the wind to transform into spouts. What would happen if they were cut off from their source of power?
As Jake prepared for the next funnel, he shouted at the witch closest to him. “Copper. Throw a spellshield around one of the funnels. Trap it!”
Without looking at Jake, Copper flung her glittering magic around one of the funnels headed toward her. Immediately it came to a stop and a man collapsed to the ground, contained by the shield.
The Shadows Page 37