Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
I restrain a growl. “I wouldn’t wish what’s happened to my family on another.”
Bram sighs. “Rumors are beginning to spread about Mathias’s return, but the decision to officially tell magickind falls with the Council. They issue edicts and approve transcasts.”
“Certainly a few words on how best to defend yourself—”
“Which is why no such edict will be allowed any time soon. No one knows how to defend against Mathias, and the Council would rather err on the side of silence than inaccuracy. Bloody stupid bastards.”
“You’re one of them,” I point out.
“The lone voice of reason, I assure you. I’ve long argued that we should communicate magical news via transcasts or the like frequently. But by the time the Council agrees to the verbiage…” Bram scoffs. “It’s old news.”
That doesn’t surprise me. Dawdling old fools, Lucan has long called them, even our Uncle Sterling at times.
I’m curious why Bram stays on the Council, likely enduring one frustration after another. But it’s none of my affair. I don’t want to become more entangled in the magical world. I’m already in too deep.
“Will you come once you’ve helped the victims of the latest attack?”
“If I’m able,” Bram vows. “Keep working on Sydney Blair.”
I can think of any number of ways in which I’d like to work on Sydney. Completely naked with her on her back, restrained to my bed, comes immediately to mind. But I need to focus on my mission. “I will.”
“And if you can snag the book, do it. We’ll worry about the consequences later.”
Chapter
Six
Iring off with Bram just before Sydney’s door bursts open. In walks the source of my frustrations and fantasies, carrying the blasted magical book.
Lust detonates inside me like a fucking supernova. Lightning races down my spine, electrifying every nerve ending. I’m drowning in need, choking on it. My fingers crush the back of a chair, knuckles white as I fight to stay upright against the dizzying onslaught.
What in blazes is happening to me? I’m a bloody yo-yo—exhausted one second, wired the next. My senses are in overdrive, skin buzzing like I’ve touched a live wire. Sweat prickles out of nowhere. And Christ, my cock is perpetually ready for action. This isn’t normal.
Sure, I’m stressed. The mission is going tits up, Lucan is still a mess, and Sydney, that ginger fireball, is melting my sanity. I ache for the simplicity of my life in Dallas, a world away from this clusterfuck. But deep down, I know the culprit. It’s magic. The same force that shattered my world once before is clawing its way back in.
Only this time, the magic isn’t just around me. It’s inside me, a gathering storm I can’t outrun. And that terrifies me more than anything.
“What is it, MacTavish?” She thrusts one hand on her hip. The other holds the Doomsday Diary casually.
God, if she had any idea how powerful and sought after that book is… I have to steal it as quickly as possible.
Surreptitiously, I withdraw my mobile phone, pretending to sort through the menus, and snap a picture.
“Watch it!” she protests.
“Sorry. New phone. I’m still learning.”
“You wanted to see me? Out with it. And be quick. It’s Friday evening. I have a pub stool and a pint waiting for me.”
She’s in a snit. Because I dismissed Jamie? The thought that she might be interested in that knuckle-dragging prat makes me far more violent than it should. But there’s no way he’s touching her. I’ll make sure of that.
“I have some questions.”
“Shocking.” She rounds her desk, slim hips swaying as she sets the diary on the semicluttered surface. “Well?”
A caustic Sydney is a dazzling force of nature wrapped in a petite package. I shouldn’t stare, but she’s captivated me from the first moment I laid eyes on her and she dug her way under my skin.
That porcelain skin flushes pink, a hint of the fire burning beneath. Her auburn curls cascade over her shoulders like liquid copper, begging me to run my fingers through them. But it’s those eyes that undo me—deep, rich brown pools that seemingly see through my bullshit. When our gazes lock, it’s like a lightning bolt to the chest, leaving me panting for more.
She’s the best version of a pretty redheaded doll crossed with a sex bomb. And god help me, I’m powerless against her pull. I don’t know whether to coddle and protect her from the violent world out there or just fuck her blind.
Don’t think about her. Think smart. Think mission.
I’d rather have her naked underneath me, taking every inch of me.
I clear my throat. “I’ll get to the point.”
“Lovely.”
Sydney stares back with admirable moxie for someone who doesn’t even reach my chin. She defends her stories with passion and wit, cleverly combining logic and fancy to sway detractors and believers alike. The fact she’s smart and sexy makes her bloody near impossible to resist.