Page 3 of Seduce Me in Shadow

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 thelastthing 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…”

“We’re talking about Mathias,” Ice spits out like he’s eaten something rancid.

He’s right. If Mathias regains even half his power, the small but determined cabal of warriors Bram assembled to fight him are screwed, and every man in the room knows it. How can the Doomsday Brethren kill a wizard who has already returned from the dead? He has an army of slaves at his disposal. I can count the Doomsday Brethren on one hand.

Bram winces. “I’m afraid, gentlemen, our problems are even more grave.”

“Would that we knew from whence Mathias finds so many disposable recruits to swell the ranks of his Anarki,” Marrok grumbles.

Indeed. Somehow, Mathias has found the means to strip souls from their human bodies to create walking-dead soldiers to help him enslave magickind and destroy the Doomsday Brethren. During their last battle, the black-blooded zombies were both plentiful and completely immune to magic.

“Indeed, I wish we did,” Bram agrees. “But I called you here to discuss something even more critical.”

Ice casts him a cutting stare. “The fact that, according to your magical signature, you’ve taken a human mate since we last met yesterday?”

My jaw drops. Bram, one of the most pedigreed wizards alive, took ahumanmate last night?

Bloody hell. Talk about a newsflash.

“Wouldn’t your grandfather be proud?” Ice sneers. “Merlin prized that pure bloodline of yours. Pity.”

Bram charges Ice like a bull. “Shut your bloody mouth, you fu?—”

“Cease!” Marrok grabs Rion and holds him back.

Over the past two weeks, Bram and Ice have constantly been at one another’s throats. If Bram needs loyal wizards in the Doomsday Brethren, why the devil did he ask Ice to join?

“Let go!” Bram growls at the Arthurian warrior. “Or I’ll transform you into a rat.”

Marrok scoffs. “You cannot afford to lose a warrior to pettiness. And the Doomsday Brethren can fight no enemy if we are too busy fighting one another.”

Bram struggles against the big man’s hold. “Beating in the tosser’s skull would make me feel better.”

“What has you on edge?” Duke asks. “A new mating should be like a honeymoon. You should be euphorically happy. Honestly, you should still be in bed with her.”

He’s not wrong. Instead, Bram is all but crawling out of his skin, seemingly with one foot in the magical mental ward.

“Whereisyour mate?” Ice drawls. “I’d like to offer her my condolences.”

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