Possess Me at Midnight (Doomsday Brethren 4)

“Your precious reputation was worth more to you than my friendship. You made that quite clear.”

“What good is a Councilman no one will listen to? I’d been on barely a decade. I was the most junior member. Even with my qualification, I had a difficult time getting the others to treat me as an equal. For you to insist on a nomination when you were not only young, but Deprived … You asked for the impossible.”

“They’d been contemplating a change to the Social order and balancing the Council with a Deprived. We’d talked before about the fact I’d be a good candidate, since my grandfather sat on the Council before the laws were changed.”

Bram let loose a bitter laugh. “You really believed that would come to pass? The Council, the purveyors of change? Honestly, Ice . . .”

“Now I know otherwise, but at the time—”

“Which only shows how naive and ill-equipped to sit on the Council you were.”

Ice gnashed his teeth. Point to Bram. “Why did you not say this? Why did you just say no and turn your back on me? You were my last fucking friend. My only—” He choked.

God, they hadn’t discussed this in two centuries, and the first thing he did? open his mouth and pour out the contents of his soul, showing Bram the actual pain his loss had wrought. During the dark days after Bram’s departure, Ice often felt alone, wondered what the fuck he had to live for. And now, what must Sabelle think?

“You issued me an ultimatum, Ice. Nominate you or stop being my friend. What was I to do? I couldn’t give you what you sought. You would have tried to direct all Council business into vendettas against Mathias. He needed to be dealt with, yes. But magickind had other problems you didn’t care about. Nominating you would have been impossible and irresponsible.”

Perhaps Bram was right. Likely, even. But Bram had never asked to see if the rest of the Council would accept the nomination. He’d simply said no.

“It’s done. None of this matters. Leave my dwelling. I’ll return your sister as soon as we’ve finished talking. Joining the Doomsday Brethren was a mistake. Consider my involvement at an end.”

“Ice, damn it, no.” Bram looked ready to hit him.

“The Doomsday Brethren needs you,” Sabelle added.

He snorted, resentment searing his veins. “Yeah, you need your slave labor, just as you did during your early Council days. I’ll bet you never told anyone I did most of your research or wrote a great many of your speeches.”

Bram paused, looked away. Ice caught the surprise on Sabelle’s face. Score.

“I’m good enough to break my back for you, but not good enough to be beside you in politics or family. Nice.”

Bram cursed, then looked him in the eye. “No, it’s not nice. But it’s reality. The Council would have laughed at your nomination two hundred years ago, and today, magickind will benefit from Sabelle mating to Lucan. We cannot allow Mathias on the Council. But I need you at my side. We need good warriors, Ice. I freely admit you are the most fearless. The best.”

“Please . . .” Sabelle wrapped her hand around his arm and squeezed. “Don’t abandon the cause.”

By God, they asked too much of him. Stay where he was not wanted but needed? Remain for the good of the bloody cause, where he would be forced to watch the witch he loved mate with another?

“What would Gailene have wanted?” Bram murmured.

It was a rotten question, but the answer was easy: for him to do the right thing. Gailene, bless her, had always had an unbending moral compass. She’d always done right, regardless of the pain or personal sacrifice. Her sense of rightness, fairness, always amazed him, especially since their father had shown her no such example.

Thoughts still raced through Ice’s head when several more gongs sounded. MacTavish, Lucan, and Caden. A Wolvesey ring followed. What the hell, was he being invaded? Clearly, they’d all followed Bram. Difficult enough to bring Sabelle here and show her the painful plainness of his home. But to have every other Privileged warrior here as well? Give them a reason to forever mock him?

“Go the fuck away, all of you!” He turned and stormed from the room, down the hall, to the back of the cave, seeking the secret exit that led to the vast expanse of lake and forest and blessed privacy.

Instead, Caden’s voice stopped him. “Ice, let us in! Tynan is injured, and Sydney is freezing.”

Hell. He didn’t want to see a decent wizard die unnecessarily, and because Ice hated Lucan MacTavish for stealing Sabelle didn’t mean he wanted the wizard’s sister-by-mating to suffer. But . . .

“Why the devil are all of you here?” he roared, marching to the front of the dwelling. “Certainly you didn’t use all the rooms in Sterling’s rambling estate.”

The last thing Ice wanted was everyone invading his personal space and secretly mocking how he lived.

“My uncle’s home is no longer safe,” Lucan shouted through the door.

Frowning, Ice dropped his defenses long enough to let them all close, then flung the door open. First, he admitted the pretty redhead, who huddled in a jacket he recognized as Caden’s. Her mate followed, carrying a limp, bleeding Tynan. Lucan and the Wolvesey twins sidled in out of the cold, Ronan curling a pretty blonde at his side. Their magical signatures declared them mated.

Sterling MacTavish emerged from the back of the pack and pushed his way in front of his nephews, just past Ice’s front door. “Clifden o’Shea is dead. Attacked and slaughtered. Signs point to Anarki.”

Oh dear God. Ice nearly stopped breathing. Mathias was moving bloody fast.

“Tynan went to visit him and was injured. He managed to get himself out,” Duke added. “It’s clear Mathias intended to finish off Clifden’s heir, too. Damn near succeeded.”

Ice cursed. Tynan, he’d somewhat liked. For a Privileged, he wasn’t all bad.

“Can we come in?” Caden’s blue eyes bore into his as he held the injured Tynan, who looked dirty, bloody, and completely unconscious. “If Tynan dies, Mathias will have another open Council seat to vie for.”

Bloody hell.

“I must go,” Lucan announced. “I merely came to check … the situation.”

In other words, make certain Ice hadn’t raped or harmed Sabelle. As if he could.

Ice snarled. “Everyone is alive and in one piece. No mad rages or mass slaughters. Yet.”

Lucan cleared his throat, then made eye contact with Sa-belle. She nodded once, and MacTavish visibly relaxed.

Ice swore inside. He’d known for two hundred years that everyone thought the worst of him. It had never bothered him until now. Until Sabelle.

“I’ll be going, then.” Lucan backed out. “I promised to help Duke, Marrok, and Olivia transport the Doomsday Diary here. Olivia and Duke can both drive a car, and I can lend protection.”

Then, with a snap, Lucan was gone.

“Here?” Ice barked at no one in particular. “Why the hell would all of you come here?”

Ice glanced at Raiden Wolvesey, the unmated twin—he could only tell them apart because Raiden’s hair was as pale as Ronan’s was dark. Other than that, they had the same green eyes and wicked smiles.

“Bram’s house is destroyed. When asked an hour ago, Sterling refused to back Mathias’s bid for the Council, so we’re fairly certain he’s next on the Anarki’s hit list. Marrok’s cottage was destroyed by the Anarki months ago. Lucan’s dwelling was breached when Anka was abducted,” Caden recounted. “Duke’s place is overrun with humans. And Ronan and Raiden have a … busy house.”

And then some. Magickind’s den of iniquity. The Wolvesey wizards were renowned for their sexual appetites. Ronan’s mating was a surprise. Usually, the Wolvesey males just bedded one female after another until they got younglings on them. Considering the difficulty of conceiving a young-ling between an unmated pair, that amount of effort said something about the single-minded pursuit of pleasure. Ice wondered vaguely why Ronan had broken tradition.

“So . . .” Caden winced, shifting Tynan’s dead weight in his arms. “That leaves you.”

Bram approached from behind, Sabelle on his heels. Ice sensed them, smelled his beloved’s sweet fragrance.

“Your place is a veritable fortress, Ice,” Bram commended. “Easy to defend. Damn near impossible to breach.”

“And I must transcast the news of o’Shea’s murder to all of magickind immediately. I’ll be safe and uninterrupted here.”

Ice bit back a curse. They asked too much, damn it. They asked him to give up Sabelle, to fight and perhaps give his life when none here liked or wanted him. They asked to invade his personal space, house and shelter them, when, if they saw him at one of magickind’s functions, they’d likely ignore him at best or spit on him at worst. Certainly, none would accept, much less applaud, a union between him and Sabelle.

Yet what would become of the Doomsday Brethren if he didn’t acquiesce? Clearly, they had nowhere safe to go, and if they all died, so too would magickind’s best hope at vanquishing Mathias. Worse, Sabelle would never forgive him for turning his back, particularly if he might have prevented the slaughter by taking them in.

Hell. It wasn’t as if he had no room. His father, mad prick that he’d been, had expanded the cave feverishly, hoping to fill it with a dozen sons. What it lacked in luxury, it more than made up for in space.

Plus, having them all here meant Sabelle stayed. Every day she was under his roof was one more day he might be able to persuade her to follow her heart and Bind to him.

“Fine.” He snapped, then stepped back to let them all in. “My bedroom is the one at the very back. No one comes near it.” He sent Sabelle a glance. “Unless you’re invited. I like quiet and privacy. The locked door just down from mine is off limits. Transcast mirror is in the front room. This isn’t a five-star hotel. Not every room has furniture, but I’ve plenty of pillows and blankets. I don’t keep servants. You’ll have to do your own cooking. Mine is dreadful. No bitching about the accommodations.”

“Thank you,” Caden said simply.

Then he nodded at Sydney, and carrying Tynan, led his mate and uncle down the hallway to the left. Plenty of bed-rooms there—far from Ice. Excellent.

“Should I send for a healer?” Ice called after them. Blood oozing from the whole left side of o’Shea’s body made Tynan look uncomfortably close to his nextlife.

Sabelle stepped up. “We don’t dare yet. Let me look at him first. Maybe … it’s not as serious as it looks.”

Whatever ailed Tynan was serious enough for the wizard to lose consciousness and look as if he was at death’s door. But he couldn’t fault Sabelle’s logic about being cautious in sending for a healer. No telling what means Mathias might use to track them all down.

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

Sabelle merely nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re not bad after all.” Raiden shook his hand and smiled as they sauntered in. Ronan repeated the gesture. Along with his mate, they followed the MacTavish clan to the far side of the cave.

Ice made a mental note to put Tynan, Marrok and Olivia, and Bram on his side of the rambling stone dwelling. Excepting Bram, he found the rest tolerable. Sabelle, he’d keep in the room beside his and continue to hope for a miracle.

Sabelle sighed. It had to be late, though she couldn’t be certain without windows. The heaviness of exhausted limbs and grittiness of tired eyes told her that her mating tomorrow morning was but hours away.

Resignation weighed on her. This morning she had awakened in Ice’s arms. After she’d healed and loved him, she’d been prepared to fight her brother for the right to become his mate. Tomorrow, she would lie in the arms of another as his mate—the first of many times.

Yet she knew she’d always think of Ice.

As she looked around the surprisingly well-furnished chamber, the next task was one to which she both looked forward and dreaded.

Ice.

Sabelle pressed a trembling hand to her stomach and held back tears. She’d shed too many, and they’d done no good. Now was the time to buck up, do her duty, be proud of her contribution to magickind’s safety. Lamenting her own heartbreak served no purpose.

Except the pain wouldn’t stop.

Drawing in a deep breath, she stared at the room’s two doors. One led to the hallway. The other … Sabelle had a sneaking suspicion that Ice had put her in a chamber that connected to his. She wanted—needed—to have these few private minutes alone with the man she loved.

And break the news to him.

On leaden feet, she approached the door and raised her hand to knock, dropped it, lifted it again. Closed her eyes. Then she forced herself to knock. No sense in prolonging what she could not change.

In seconds, Ice whipped the door open. His expression was a question, not harsh, but guarded. Hope haunted his beautiful green eyes, and she wished to God that she was seeking him out for any other reason. After what she’d already asked of him, it hardly seemed fair.