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 get it. You’re brassed off. And I want to help Lucan. But we’ve got bigger problems than your brother right now. Problems that affect us.” He gestures to the other men. “And all of magickind.”
“My brother is chained to a bed like a lunatic, Anka is missing, and we haven’t a single clue where she’s gone. Lucan will never be whole until we return her. Nothing is more important.”
“I wish that were true. Our other problems are many and grave.”
Ice Rykard, the warrior-wizard built like a brick shithouse, glowers. When annoyance stamps his face, sensible people scamper. “You dragged me here to state the fucking obvious?”
As Ice moves to leave, Bram blocks him. “There’s more. And it’s bad enough that we all must attend to it.”
Bram wants my help but won’t assist Lucan? I’d laugh if I weren’t so furious. “I’m here for one reason: to find my brother’s missing mate—”
“Former mate,” Bram corrects. “Their bond is broken.”
“Involuntarily,” I snarl. “Lucan still sees her as his. They were in love. Why wouldn’t she want him back? I’m here to reunite them, not solve your problems.”
“Lucan is my best friend. I want him whole more than anything. But that’s a mission of mercy. What we face now is life or death.”
“Without Anka, Lucan will die!”
Bram’s face hardens. “If we don’t act now, thousands—maybe millions—will die. Including Lucan.”
The “greater good” bullshit again. My patience snaps. I rub my gritty eyes, exhaustion weighing me down. Every day is full of worry, every night is nothing but sleepless pacing with Lucan’s mad face haunting me. And his so-called friends are concerned about everyone else.
“Please.” Simon Northam—aka the Duke of Hurstgrove—the poshest of this ragtag bunch, fixes me with a penetrating stare. “We need you as much as Lucan does. The sooner we handle this, the sooner we help him. Are you in?”
Chapter
Two
Four pairs of eyes lock on to me. Yes, Bram has cared for Lucan since Anka disappeared, and I’m grateful. But beyond that, I owe these wizards nothing. I can’t suddenly move halfway around the world to enlist in a magical war. I’m not even a wizard, and I’m definitely no fan of magic. I have a life in Texas—a job I love, good friends, a place in a great neighborhood, and a high-maintenance puppy. Leaving all that behind to fight a battle that’s not mine isn’t possible. And if I’m fighting someone else’s war, I’m not finding Anka. That’s got to be my top priority.
The others’ expectant stares say otherwise. Without a word, they accuse me of abandoning Lucan’s cause and leaving them for dead—something completely counter to my code of honor as a former Marine.
Fuck.
“The Doomsday Brethren mean a great deal to Lucan.” Bram’s reminder drips with guilt.
Manipulative bastard.
“Besides, you may soon need us. Your magic is coming…”
I snort Bram’s way. “Not if I can help it.”
I’ve been praying that the wizard gene skipped me. It happens. I’ve written off my sleeplessness as anxiety and stress, not a harbinger of my coming transition.
But in the past few days, I’ve experienced random electrical surges. Something alive bubbles under my skin. I’ve suffered hot sweats, cold sweats, trembles and shakes—all for no apparent reason. I’m fucking afraid the witching hour—in this case, my thirtieth birthday—is fast approaching…along with my magic.
Being a wizard is the last thing I want.
“You can’t.” Bram shrugs. “If magic is in your DNA, it’s coming.”
Marrok, the massive human warrior who looks every inch a medieval knight, from the slash of straight black hair brushing his meaty shoulders to the sword strapped to his hip, frowns. “Does this new problem concern Shock? Have we yet heard from the varlet?”
The shadiest member of the Doomsday Brethren has been MIA since their battle two weeks ago with the evil wizard Mathias D’Arc, who seeks to control magickind with the help of his minions, the Anarki. During that skirmish, Shock appeared to switch his loyalties to the dark side. No surprise, given the man’s shady background. Because Shock is both Anka’s previous suitor and cozy with Mathias, Bram thinks the prick might divulge Anka’s whereabouts. I’m not holding my breath. After abducting Anka and forcing her to break her mate bond with Lucan, Mathias brutalized my brother’s mate. Shock did nothing to save her.
Bram, Ice, and Duke all shake their heads. So no one has heard from Shock. Fuck.
Marrok bites back a curse. “That is most vexing. I fear the steaming pustule has divulged much about our plans to Mathias.”
“His quiet disturbs me,” Ice cuts in. “Two weeks of it… Right dodgy, innit? Makes me itch.”
If I cared about magickind, I’d agree. But my only mission is to find Anka and return her to Lucan in the hopes of restoring my brother’s sanity. Magickind’s problems are beyond me.
“During our last battle, Olivia laid a bolt of power on Mathias that should have flattened the bastard,” Duke, clad head to toe in designer everything, points out. He looks urbane and wealthy, the artful muss of his dark hair cut perfectly, just like his aristocratic features, all the way down to his cleft chin. “It appeared to deplete his magic and should have prevented him from rising again, but…”