Entice Me at Twilight (Doomsday Brethren) - Softcover

Black, Shayla

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1439166773 ISBN 13: 9781439166772

Publisher: Pocket Books, 2010

Synopsis

Paperback. Pub Date: October 2010 Pages: 384 Publisher: Pocket Books In National bestselling author Shayla Black's electrifying new novel. The Doomsday ethren fight their mortal Enemy for The newest Latest Articles in weapon in a bloody Magical War: the one woman a warrior shouldn ' t claim ... yet can't resist.Dangerously handsome Simon Northam. Duke of Hurstgrove. and his uptight other Mason are hardly close. but crashing Mason's wedding and stealing his fiance further aggravate their sibling rivalry. Duke's family has no notion he's a wizard. so how can he explain that magickind's fate lies with the beautiful. tenacious ide he longs to seduce Felicia is an Untouchable. a rare human whose presence disables magic-even the impenetrable forces surrounding Morganna le Fay's tomb. The evil witch's malicious powers could propel nefarious wizard Mathias to ultimate world dominati...

About this title

About the Author:

Shayla Black is the New York Times bestselling author of more than twenty sizzling contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and historical romances, including the Doomsday Brethren novels Tempt Me with Darkness and Possess Me at Midnight. Her novel Decadent was nominated for Best Erotic Romance of 2007 by Romantic Times. She lives in Texas with her family. Visit her website at www.shaylablack.com.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

CHAPTER 1
PRESENT DAY—ENGLAND

“YOUR TIMING BLOODY SUCKS,” Simon Northam, Duke of Hurstgrove, said as his boots crunched on the snowy field. Charred ruins rose like specters in the foggy distance. Fat gray clouds and evening mist promised more bad weather.

“Tell that to Mathias.” Bram Rion brushed back his tawny wind-blown hair.

“True,” Duke, as Simon preferred to be called, conceded.

There was no convenient time for Mathias d’Arc to attack Bram’s home. But weeks ago, he and his Anarki army had descended on Bram’s residence in the hopes of eradicating the Doomsday Brethren, a group of wizards devoted to ridding magickind of the evil sorcerer and his minions. Mathias preached equality to the Deprived class of magickind, but it was a ruse. He dealt in torture, plunder, and murder—all for ill-gotten power. The attack had nearly taken Bram, the Doomsday Brethren’s leader, and the rest of the warriors by surprise. They’d barely escaped, and had been forced to abandon the house—their headquarters—to stay alive.

Now, Bram had gathered Duke and two other warriors together at the estate’s remains. Duke dreaded sifting through the piles of blackened stone, plaster, and brick scattered among so many discarded personal effects. It looked like the aftermath of a natural disaster. But there’d been nothing natural about this.

“You’re missing my point.” Duke raised a brow at Bram. “Today is damn inconvenient for you to drag me here. Yesterday? Tomorrow? Either would have been splendid.”

“So sorry I didn’t consult your social calendar.” Bram’s tone dripped sarcasm.

“If I’m late to Mason’s wedding, my family will kill me. He’s my brother.”

“Half-brother,” Bram pointed out none too gently. “This won’t take long, your highness. You’ll be at Lowechester Hall long before the big event.”

Duke smiled. “I’ll string you up by the balls if I’m not.”

“You’ve got time. The ceremony isn’t until midnight, yes? Odd time.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve. New beginnings, and that sort of rubbish.” Duke shrugged. “What I’m wondering is why you demanded we come here tonight.”

“I only discovered hours ago that I can no longer teleport inside my own home. Or enter in any other way. There are several possible reasons.” He sighed. “None of them good.”

“Such as?”

“Think you, the great Bram Rion, will explain himself?” Marrok leaned across the line of warriors, his blue-gray eyes full of mirth. The gargantuan Arthurian warrior loved teasing Bram.

“Without his usual dodgy charm?” Ice Rykard, Bram’s brother-by-mating, raised a dark brow that nearly disappeared beneath his black skullcap. “Why would he start now?”

“The lot of you can piss off.” Bram pressed ahead to the blackened, leaning house in the distance. “Other than the recent attack on the Lowery family, Mathias has been like a church mouse since he failed to defeat Ice for a Council seat. We know he won’t abandon his quest to overtake magickind. So his nearly three weeks of silence makes me itch.”

Agreed. The Doomsday Brethren was the biggest stumbling block between Mathias and ultimate power. None of them liked it when they couldn’t guess the vile wizard’s next move.

With a ripe curse, Bram ranted on. “The Council gave us—and us alone—the mandate to kill Mathias ... but to do that, we must find him.”

“We will.” Duke hunkered into his brown Italian wool overcoat, then drawled, “I hope he doesn’t feel compelled to ring in the New Year with a bang. Tomorrow is much more convenient for me to fight mayhem.”

As was often the case, humor was lost on Ice. The warrior’s mood was as black as his turtleneck sweater. “Fucking bastard needs to be put down. But how do we kill a man who was already once dead?”

“We will—somehow. But first we must gain entrance to my house. There’s too much information inside that could help him.”

Ice shot Bram a stunned glare. “Not your grandfather’s writings?”

Bram didn’t say a word.

“You left Merlin’s work here?” Duke nearly choked.

“I was unconscious when Mathias attacked, if you’ll recall,” Bram said defensively.

A sick feeling settled into Duke’s stomach. Merlin had been the greatest wizard ever, dating back to the time of King Arthur. “If those writings fell into the wrong hands, magickind would be totally buggered.”

“Completely,” Bram admitted.

“Fuck,” Ice muttered. “Any chance Mathias doesn’t know you have Merlin’s texts?”

Bram shrugged. “At the very least, I’m sure he hopes I do. And of course, I have no idea what Shock might have told him.”

Their supposed double-agent Shock Denzell ... whose loyalties no one could quite seem to pin down. Dodgy bastard.

Duke sighed. “Fine, then. We’ll try to enter the house and look for Merlin’s books. I can stay an hour now and return tomorrow, if necessary. Mason extended an olive branch by asking me to be his best man. We haven’t been on speaking terms for roughly a decade, so I really can’t be late.”

Not that Duke particularly wanted to attend the festivities. Felicia Safford would be a stunning bride. White would only heighten her air of innocence. Her blue eyes would dance with life and fire that she’d do her damnedest to repress.

The thought of Felicia made his blood stir, his breathing ragged. Bloody hell.

At their first official meeting last night, when Felicia had slid the soft skin of her palm against his, he’d felt a jolt. Duke suspected then that she didn’t belong with his brother. But she’d chosen Mason for reasons he couldn’t fathom, so Duke would grit his teeth through tonight’s ceremony, hope he could keep his stare off the bride, and tamp down his guilty urge to strip her bare and take her to bed.

“Best man.” Ice scoffed. “All the pomp and ceremony of a human wedding sounds absurd. Why don’t humans simply speak words, like the Call, and be done?”

Duke hid a smile. “They speak vows, but the pomp, I suspect, is for the mothers. Mine is in her element, planning Mason and Felicia into oblivion.”

“If you and Mason don’t get on well, why did he choose you as his best man?” Bram’s tawny brow wrinkled in confusion.

“I’m certain our mother had a hand in it.” Plus, as Duke knew, his presence—given that he’d been labeled one of England’s most eligible bachelors by the human tabloids—would mean lots of press. Damn, where was a noose when he needed one?

“Are you feeling well enough for the festivities?” Bram frowned, staring at the space just around Duke. “I noticed earlier that your magical signature seems a bit faded, like you’re unwell. But shiny ’round the edges. Never seen that.”

His signature was off kilter? The magical aura around every witch or wizard told all others about the person’s state of being. If someone magical was mated, their colors blended with their love’s and visually proclaimed them bonded. If they were magically very weak or strong, a wizard’s or witch’s signature would reflect that with the choice and intensity of colors. Likewise, if one of magickind ailed, their signature would appear faded. But shiny edges?

Sometimes, growing up human only to discover at age thirty that he was actually a wizard was a detriment. He often didn’t understand magic’s subtleties and intricacies any better than magickind understood those of humans.

Duke frowned. “I feel fine.”

“Something is definitely off.”

Something other than the fact he’d awakened in a cold sweat last night, thinking about Felicia being his brother’s wife, thinking of her smiling up at Mason as he sank deep into her body? Imagining her with him made Duke want to demolish buildings with his bare hands.

“You low on energy?” Ice asked, crossing thick arms over his massive chest.

Duke winced. Among magickind, energy was best derived during sex. Frequent, raw exchanges of pleasure powered their magic. Last night, he’d bedded a witch he’d met at a pub. Pleasant enough. He’d already forgotten her name, but remembered her dark blond hair with honey streaks and her shining blue eyes. She’d made it easy to close his eyes and pretend.

“I said I’m fine,” he bit out. “Let’s focus on why Bram is unable to enter his house.”

“Once we reach what’s left of the walls, we’ll find out,” Bram vowed as they strode through the night.

Suddenly, they hit an invisible barrier inches from the crumbling ruins. Marrok stopped short, shoving at the unseen obstruction with a massive shoulder. Ice pushed with brawny hands. Bram poked and punched it, cursing and kicking when he couldn’t break through. Duke probed it mentally. The barrier didn’t budge.

“The bastard put up his own barrier to prevent me from getting inside,” Bram cursed. “I think he lives to torment me.”

“Who?” Marrok asked.

“Shock.” Bram skimmed his fingers across the wall, then nodded. “His magic is all over this place. He wants me to know that—”

“My magic surrounds your house,” said the wizard in question, now standing directly behind them. “You’re not getting in until I say so.”

They whirled to find Shock Denzell dressed in black from head to toe, ever-present sunglasses shielding his eyes, a leather duster falling to his calves, vicious combat boots covering enormous feet.

Behind him stood a half-dozen undead corpses—a small fraction of Mathias’s Anarki army. Their evil glares made them look exactly like what they were: human zombies whose souls had been sucked out and replaced with Mathias’s twisted thoughts.

Shock’s younger brother, Zain, stood in front of the undead creatures, a superior smirk lifting his scruffy goatee. A T-shirt that read Do I look like a fucking people person? sagged across his chest.

Bram seethed, staring daggers at Shock, who strode past, stepping closer to the walls. He towered above all the Doomsday Brethren except Marrok.

Personally, Duke didn’t believe Shock was secretly fighting for good while pretending to serve evil. Shock merely placated both sides, knowing the winning side would put him in a cushy position eventually. The fact that Zain was one of Mathias’s most fervent supporters didn’t lend Shock any credibility either.

“Protecting my house for me or keeping it safe for someone else?” Bram raised a sharp golden brow in challenge, his tan cashmere coat flapping in the wind.

Shock sent him a mocking grin. “You have some interesting stuff in here.”

It didn’t escape Duke’s notice that Shock had failed to answer the question.

Ice snarled. “What have you taken, you fucking bastard?”

“Fucking bastard?” Shock’s dark brows raised. “Here I thought we were friends.”

“Always knew you were a delusional wanker,” Ice snarled.

“Your choice of friends leaves something to be desired.” Bram’s gaze ran over the Anarki in their robes. Their rotting faces sat deep in their hoods. But there was no missing the chill they radiated or the eyes that glowed with bloodlust.

Shock crossed thick arms over his chest. “Given your friendship with Lucan MacTavish, I could say the same.”

“He’s my best friend, and you stole his mate.”

“Former mate,” Shock corrected, holding up a meaty finger. “And I didn’t steal Anka. Mathias did. After she escaped, she chose me, not Lucan, to protect her.”

“Protecting isn’t the only thing you’re doing to her.” Ice’s piercing green eyes said he was ready to rip Shock’s head off. Which might improve both their moods.

Sighing, Duke ran a hand over his jaw, grimacing at the two days’ worth of growth beneath his fingertips. He needed to leave, shave, and get ready for this blasted wedding. God knew, this conversation was getting them nowhere. He’d almost rather perform his familial duty—calm his mother, greet guests, and dodge the paparazzi—than listen to this blah, blah, blah.

Or was it that he’d simply rather be near Felicia?

“Lift your magical protections around Bram’s house and let us in,” Duke demanded.

Shock raised a scathing glare to him. The expression slid off, morphing to something like astonishment, as the wizard stared at him. No, at his signature.

Had the witch last night failed to charge his power? He felt well enough, but ...

“You.” He pointed to Duke, the surprise on his face replaced by a glower. “Come here and make me.”

Duke hesitated. Not that Shock scared him. Yes, the wizard did his best to intimidate, but what disturbed Duke was that Shock had singled him out. Usually, the leather-clad goon antagonized Bram, Ice, or Lucan. So why did Shock want to fight him now?

Exchanging a glance with Bram, who shrugged, Duke stepped forward. “You’re an annoying bastard.”

Shock sent him a dismissive glare. “You’re barely better than a human.”

“You rattle off your mouth unwisely,” Marrok, himself human, bit out as he tossed back his dark hair and readied for a fight.

With a dismissive wave, Shock addressed the warrior. “You’ve redeemed yourself by mating a very worthy witch and living among magickind. Mr. High-and-Mighty over there,”—Shock nodded rudely in Duke’s direction—“he’s got one foot in both camps. He’s a bloody duke. Who among magickind has use for such worthless human titles? He even smells human.”

“Better than smelling like a backstabbing arsehole,” Duke quipped.

Thunder crossed Shock’s face, and he raced forward and struck Duke, an open palm cracking against his cheek. Duke recoiled. Shock had slapped him, not punched him like a warrior. He felt the insult all the way to his bones.

With a lazy gait, Shock backed up a few paces and sent Duke a challenging glare. “I’d hit you with a spell ... but your human blood would probably curdle.”

Gritting his teeth, Duke told himself to stay calm. Shock was baiting him. The question was, why?

Clenching his fists to keep a handle on his temper, Duke squared off with Shock. “As fascinating as your juvenile behavior isn’t, we’re simply here to take stock of the contents of Bram’s house. Kindly remove your ... protections and let us in.”

“Fuck off.”

Clenching his fists, Duke repressed the urge to attack. Shock wanted something—not from Bram or Ice or Marrok. But from him. When Shock had made more of a pretense of fighting on their side and actually attended the Doomsday Brethren’s meetings, he’d barely spoken to him. To be singled out this way was confusing.

But Denzell wanted a fight. Fine. Duke would play along until he figured out this rubbish.

He drew his wand from his overcoat and whipped it in Shock’s direction.

Before he could conjure a spell, Shock shook his head. “I won’t fight you like a wizard; you barely are one.” He sneered and crooked his finger. “Come here and fight like the dirty humans you were raised with. Show me what you know.”

With a glare, Duke sheathed his wand again and approached Shock. He struck the other wizard with a lightning quick open-palmed slap, tit for tat. Shock’s head snapped to the side. The big wizard laughed.

The elder Denzell brother had long been regarded as crafty and violent. Today, he seemed flat insane.

“Is that the best you’ve got?”

Duke shook his head. If Shock was itching for a fight so b...

About this edition

• Publisher: Pocket Books
• Publication date: 2010
• ISBN 10: 1439166773
• ISBN 13: 9781439166772
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• Number of pages: 384