Tempt Me with Darkness (Doomsday Brethren 1)

She stepped back as dread slid through her. “I—I don’t understand.”

“Of course not. I perform magic that no one has even conceived of, breathed about, so you can’t possibly understand.”

Suddenly, his head snapped back. His face lost all color and animation. He turned an otherworldly shade of gray, while his eyes lost their luster and life, graying out like the rest of him. A ghostly leg kicked out from the side of his calf, almost as if another being was emerging from her father’s body. But that was impossible.

Or so she thought until an arm protruded from her father’s shoulder. Another head seemed to come out from his ear. Then a whole separate body emerged and stepped forward. Her father fell to the floor, lifeless, like a marionette with its strings cut.

Olivia’s jaw dropped. Terror iced its way though her veins. With a frantic stare, she looked between her father’s slumped form on the dingy floor and the new man in front of her.

He looked younger than Richard by twenty years. Dark hair brushed the bronzed tops of his bulging shoulders. His top half was bare except for a thin coat of sweat that accentuated every ripped muscle. Biceps bunched and flexed as he hooked his thumb into the waistband of his leather pants, hanging so low she could see his hip bones and follow the treasure trail leading down.

Who the hell was he?

“Olivia?”

She’d been so distracted by the fact that a half-naked hunk had emerged from her father’s body, she hadn’t looked into his eyes. What she saw there made her recoil.

An icy blue so chilling, she shivered from ten feet away. Rimmed in black, they threatened and seduced at once. He embodied compelling menace, with his slashing cheekbones, strong jaw, and sensual mouth. The man was completely sexual, impossible to ignore, and utterly without warmth in his soul.

She was repulsed.

“Wh—what have you done with my father?”

“I made sure he will rest.” He smiled benignly as he stepped closer. “In peace.”

Olivia felt her eyes widen, her pulse jump. She stepped back. “You ki—killed him?”

“He had served his purpose and was becoming tiresome. Suddenly, he sprouted morals and fatherly concern.” The man pretended to yawn. “What use have I for those?”

God, his words…the man had no heart. The closer he came, the more her skin crawled.

“You may be happy to know that his dying words were about you. He never pleaded for his own life, but he begged quite convincingly for yours.”

Dead? The father she’d barely had a chance to know had been murdered defending her to this…creature? “When?”

“Directly after he helped you fight off the Anarki at your mate’s cottage. I had him followed—and his mind read—prior to that. As soon as he teleported away from you and back here, well, your father had been a smashing source of information, but I no longer needed him. So I provided him everlasting slumber.”

Olivia trembled. It was all happening so fast, she couldn’t wrap her head around the rapid-fire events. “Why kill him?”

“He was going to ruin my plan.” He ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek in a soft caress that, for all its gentleness, scared the crap out of her. “I couldn’t have that.”

Olivia jerked away from his touch. “Who are you?”

“Mathias d’Arc, of course.” He made a great show of executing a very courtly bow.

His name ricocheted around her head. The Mathias? Oh, dear God!

She stumbled back, only to encounter a wall. He laughed softly, the sound every bit as chilly as his eyes.

Mathias reached toward her and curled his fists around her hair, letting it slide between his palms before he grabbed her cruelly. “My fiery American witch. So lovely.”

“Leave me the hell alone!” She struggled to get away.

Mathias held her against the wall. “To touch you, I could break your mate bond, which you might not survive. Or I could simply take you and disregard your pain, but you might not live through that either, and I have no use for a dead le Fay witch. You’re quite lovely. More’s the pity.”

Yanking on her hair, Mathias pulled her closer. Olivia stumbled against him until her mouth was just beneath his.

“I would enjoy fucking you,” he whispered against her lips. “Your moans and pleas would provide me so much energy and pleasure.”

Olivia tried to shake her head, but he held her too tightly.

“But you reek of that immortal human,” Mathias growled. “And I’m in no mood to smell him while you scream in pleasure.”

Pleasure? How could he imagine that she would for a moment enjoy his touch?

“Your mind is deliciously easy to hear. You would feel pleasure because I would will it so. Watch.”

Suddenly, he released her and stepped into the middle of the room. With a wave of his hands and a snap of his fingers, a woman appeared, looking mussed and dirty and naked. Head down, her pale curls shielded her face, her shoulders, part of her breasts, flirted with her navel. But Olivia could see she was a beauty.

“Come,” he called to her.

Without looking up, she walked toward him.

“Kneel.”

She did as she was told. Knees apart, hands clasped behind her back, pose submissive.

Behind the woman, Olivia’s jaw dropped. Why would the beauty subjugate herself to a monster? God, she was going to be sick.

Absently, Mathias brushed the woman’s hair from her face, then moved lower, fondling her breast. He grabbed her nipple and gave his wrist a slow, hard twist. The woman gasped, then began to pant.

Time to run. Maybe Mathias would be so distracted she would have the opportunity to get away. He’d probably kill her for it.

Olivia ran two steps toward the door when she felt something loop around her neck and give a vicious yank. She pulled and scratched, looking for the something choking her, but her nails gouged only her own skin.

Then suddenly, her hands were forced to her sides and she was turned to face Mathias and his slave once more.

“I insist you stay for the fun. This one gives me a great deal of energy. So full of anger I can translate into such juicy enthusiasm for my cock. Isn’t that right, lovely?”

Grimacing, Olivia felt moments from losing her last meal.

“Rise,” Mathias demanded of the woman, then dropped his voice. “You’re a minx. I’ll bet you liked it rough with your former mate as well.”

The woman had once had a mate?

“Turn,” he said to the woman, who obeyed without hesitation.

The sight of her face made Olivia draw in a sharp, shocked breath. “Anka?”

“Ah, is that her name? I’ve been too busy shagging her to ask.” Mathias ran his palm up her stomach, over her distended nipples, then back down into the nest of pale curls. She looked swollen and smelled of sex.

“Spread your legs.”

Anka trembled but complied without pause.

But her eyes, full of despair and horror, caused Olivia’s heart to reach out to the woman in understanding and grief. Her body was being forced to endure this, even as her mind rebelled.

Mathias’s fingers disappeared into Anka’s sex. She winced, but in moments was struggling to catch her breath, flushing with arousal, slick with desire.

With a depraved smile, he slanted Olivia a stare. “Isn’t she—no, I must rephrase this—wasn’t she the mate of one of the Doomsday Brethren?”

Shocked, Olivia nodded. It wasn’t a good sign that Mathias knew the Doomsday Brethren existed. Had he gotten the information out of her father’s head?

“You forced Anka to break her bond?”

“I can be very persuasive.”

Anka’s red-rimmed eyes looked traumatized, terrorized, even as her thighs began to tremble with impending release under Mathias’s lazy-fingered caress.

“Stop. She does not want this!”

The evil wizard held up his two very wet fingers. “Here is your proof otherwise.”

“You’re forcing her to respond.”

He shrugged. “Pleasure is pleasure.” He circled his free hand around her head. “There. She cannot hear us now. Don’t want pesky memories getting in the way. I never bothered to ask her mate’s name. Who was he?”

Olivia refused to tell. Lord knew what the psycho freak would do with the information.

“Tell me.” He inched his hand lower, right back over Anka’s rosy sex. “Or she spends the entire night coming against her will and not just for me. I’m sure the wizards of the Anarki would love this pussy.”

As Olivia recoiled, a silent tear rolled down Anka’s cheek unchecked. The woman couldn’t endure another rape from Mathias. She had already been forced to break her vows and been repeatedly violated. Mathias would only raise the level of hell if she didn’t tell him.

“Her mate is—”

“Was,” Mathias corrected.

“Was Lucan.”

At that, Mathias’s awful smile widened. “Splendid. One of the strong ones. No reason to go to the trouble of abducting a warrior’s mate and forcing her to break their bond if it’s not going to cripple Bram Rion’s little rebellion.”

That explained everything. Mathias not only knew of the Doomsday Brethren, but since he’d been impersonating her father when he’d interrupted one of their training sessions, he had a good idea who was in it, who had been mated, and figured out a shortcut to making them one key member smaller with Lucan’s insanity.

He looked at Anka with such evil amusement, it sent chills up Olivia’s spine. “I know just what to do with you.”

Whatever he had in store, Olivia already felt sorry for the other woman.

With another wave and snap of his fingers, Anka was gone.

Olivia searched the room in vain. “Where is she? What did you do with her?”

“As much fun as I’ve had with her, I sent her to a place where she can be far more…interesting.”

Did that mean he’d turned her over to the Anarki for some sort of gangbang? “Send her back to her mate. Now! He’s suffering and—”

“Good.” He smiled. “Then my plan to both distract and weaken Bram’s little group is working. Anka no longer has a mate, and she’ll be very much appreciated where I’ve sent her.”

“Damn you! Don’t do this to her or Lucan. Don’t—”

“I would not worry so much about their problems when you have ones of your own. Now, you may either cooperate with me…or I may change my mind and let you come to understand Anka’s experience firsthand.”

The very thought made her skin crawl. Mathias touching her, forcing her body to crave what her mind rejected. Breaking her bond with Marrok, severing their connection. She shivered and hugged herself.

“I see you understand me. What will it be?”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

NEARLY TWELVE HAZY, panic-filled hours had passed. Dusk would soon be upon them.

And still, Marrok had neither word nor sign of Olivia.

“Duke and Caden left a few minutes ago to search again. Ice left on his second outing. I’ll continue to research. You stay here in case the Anarki come. You’ll know what to do.”

Marrok nodded grimly at Bram. He prayed they would find Olivia, but icy fear consumed him. No one knew where her father might have taken her, or where Richard hid. He wasn’t answering his phone or rocks. But Richard had managed to evade the Anarki for several hundred years. Chances were, he could avoid the Doomsday Brethren as well.

Worse, if Richard had thrice leveled killing blasts, the man was not on the side of good.

“What of Shock?” Marrok asked.

“I’ve seen no sign of him since before Anka’s disappearance. I pray to God he had nothing to do with Anka breaking her mate bond and causing my friend to be strapped to a bed while he loses his humanity and his soul.”

For the first time, Marrok empathized. If someone had taken his mate, persuaded her to break their bond…A handful of hours without Olivia, and already he felt as if he were about to lose his mind. The bone-deep anxiety would not stop. For the millionth time since Olivia’s disappearance, he paced the room.

And the failure to keep her safe had been incredibly painful. “Bastard! I wish I knew where Richard has taken Olivia and what he plans. I could happily rip his entrails out with my bare hands.”

“There may be several reasons he didn’t reply.”

None of them good. Bram didn’t say that, but Marrok knew.

Right now, he should prepare for battle, try to use logic to discern where her father might have taken her, and remember every moment he’d shared with her.

A few moments later, a little white bird whisked in, chirping, and appeared beside Marrok.

“Come alone and bring the Doomsday Diary to a tunnel on the south bank of the Thames at two a.m.”

Marrok stilled. “That is not Richard Gray’s voice.”

“Or Olivia will die,” the bird continued.