Dark Love

By Claudy Conn

One goal consumes Chazma Donnelly: find the dark sorcerer who murdered her parents.
When the trail leads her to Ireland, she takes a job cataloging a private library. But she doesn’t expect to find a manor house that eerily echoes one in her dreams, or an employer whose touch awakens a savage darkness in her.
The attraction between Chaz and Jethro McBain is volatile, but darkness surrounds his aura. Chaz doesn’t trust him, even though it is his voice she hears in her sleep, and his touch that sizzles the blood in her veins.
As Chazma’s investigation widens, a series of local murders shows the killer knows of her obsession.
Will Chaz’s need for revenge take her from the edge of evil into a black pit where she can no longer find herself? Or can she find love in the midst of darkness?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Claudy Conn
• Release date: Sep 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301958214

Claudy Conn

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Claudy Conn is a multi published author who got her start with her bestselling historical/regency romances.She tells us that she fell in love with the fantasy/paranormal genre and created a world of paranormal.She hopes you will read and enjoy and join her on her facebook where she loves to interact with her readers.page.http://www.facebook.com/pages/Claudy-Conn-Paranormal-Romance-Author/135826686471445

Book preview

DARK LOVE

BY

CLAUDY CONN

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

COPYRIGHT © 2011 by Claudette Conn at Smashwords

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Excerpt of Hungry Moon: Quicksilver

Copyright © 2012 by Claudy Conn

Excerpt of Lady X

Copyright © 2013 by Claudy Conn

CONTENTS

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Excerpt: LadyX

Excerpt: Hungry Moon

About Claudy

Dedication

To my daughter, Dawn, a joy and a treasure for too many reasons to list.

There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable,

Mark Twain

Chapter One

DARKNESS ENVELOPED HER. She strained to peer through the murky night sky. Something was wrong, so wrong. Gloom overshadowed her, she knew it was because of her surroundings. It must be night. And yet, it didn’t have the feel of nighttime.

He was larger than any man had a right to be. It wasn’t just his size, but his aura. He seemed to fill all voids. Who was he?

She couldn’t see his face, she didn’t recognize his voice, but she felt they belonged to each other.

He had wrapped her in his arms. It was where she wanted to be. More than anything she wanted this. His magic and his touch were all consuming. He bent her to meet his lips.

Without warning she was wrenched away. Mist rose around her legs as she crouched in the forest. Fear infiltrated every pore. Danger hunted her…him. Run! Her instincts screamed run!—her inner self whispered something else, something so much more efficient and faster. She didn’t want to think about that because doing that something else would make her feel not quite human.

Shaking off her trance, she chose human and ran. Her lungs labored with her pace. She ran hard, as though her life depended on reaching her goal. Her toes caught on a knotted root. Windmilling her arms out for balance, she fell with a force that knocked the breath out of her.

Gasping, her mouth opened and closed as she tried to force air into her lungs. Her palms stung, wet and raw from the collision with the damp earth. There wasn’t time to consider the pain in her twisted leg. She lurched up and took off again, fear taking over and numbing the pain. For a split second she almost did what she had forbidden herself so many years ago: she almost slipped out of human.

She had to get to the manor. He was there—and in danger. She had to get back to him. She had to see him. She had to know…

Something pulled at her, taking her away. A voice called. Her eyes flew open as she twitched in her seat and attempted to make sense of where she was.

On the plane. I’m on the plane.

Chazma Donnelly’s eyes flashed open and she sat up with a start. She grasped the arm of her aisle seat and a choking, gasping sound escaped. She put her hand to her lips, and hoped she wasn’t drooling.

Sorry, miss, you were having a nightmare. The elderly gentleman seated beside her smiled apologetically. I thought I should wake you.

What? Chaz looked at him and managed a feeble smile as she shook herself awake. Oh—yes—thanks. She focused on him a moment. His white hair fell over his round, pinkish face and he reminded her of a sweet grandfatherly figure. I am so sorry and embarrassed. You must think me a spaz. She straightened up in the chair and smoothed her clothing.

A grandfatherly smile accompanied his touch as he patted her arm. She heard him say something about never getting used to these long trips. He spoke softly and continuously in an effort to set her at ease. She only half-listened as she dispensed with what she had begun to think of as her re-run nightmare. She nodded gratefully as she ran her fingers through her blond hair. Get a grip, Chaz. This miserable, terrifying nightly dream wouldn’t let go. It had now followed her into the skies.

Always the same nightmare. Lack of sleep exhausted her. Where was this dark, shadowy manor? She had this feeling that she was running in the dream to find someone important in her life.

Chazma straightened in her seat and looked around. Yup, still in the air and headed for Ireland. She closed her eyes and asked herself for the hundredth time if she was doing the right thing. She had a list of very excellent reasons why she shouldn’t have taken this job.

Top on that list was the fact that her grandmother had urged her to do so. What is up with that? Since when had her grams ever urged her to do anything that would take her away from home? Duh. Never.

She rubbed her eyes, heedless of her eyeliner, and grimaced as she realized she must have smudged what little makeup she wore. Her body still shook.

Feeling better? Her elderly neighbor moved in his seat and bent to look her over for visual confirmation.

Thanks…yes. Smiling, she touched his arm. You woke me just in time.

Why, what was about to happen?

I don’t know, but nothing good. She tried making light of it with an uneasy laugh as she got up and made her way to the lavatory. She always took an aisle seat when she flew. Easy in and out.

In the lavatory she looked at herself in the mirror. Ugh. Makeup smudged, her long blond hair a tangled mess. And her mouth, oddly swollen—as though she had actually been kissing someone.

Dreams—vivid dreams—had always been a part of her life, but this...this foreboding nightmare was altogether different. It seemed to foreshadow things to come. And now it occurred every time she closed her eyes.

One fact stood out. This nightmare had been going on ever since she had accepted the temporary summer job awaiting her in Brionn, a town just outside Dublin.

She questioned the wisdom of taking the job. She had been so determined, so convinced this was the answer. Had she been wrong? She suspected her grandmother had somehow arranged the job offer, but she had reasons all her own for ignoring that and accepting the job anyway. She smiled as she thought of Grams telling her, Go, you won’t be far from Dublin where you can go to Temple Bar and have a bit of fun. You need to get away, love.

Her grandmother had nearly pushed her out the door.

It wasn’t hard to figure out why. She knew her grams didn’t want her snooping about New York City during her summer vacation.

She knew her dear sweet Grams was afraid she might find out something that could bring her harm…just as it had her parents.

Chazma’s eyes narrowed with her flitting thoughts. Finger wagging, she had accused Grams, I know you are behind this Brionn thing, Grams, don’t try and deny it. I know how many ties you still have in Ireland.

Her grandmother had waved a hand at her. Nonsense. Now take the job or don’t. ’Tis only because I think you’ll have some much-needed fun while you are there.

I mean, really! Chaz had pulled a face at her grandmother. Now she turned from the mirror, the scene still vivid in her mind. She could almost see the lie waving hello at her. How had such a job advertisement landed in the Wilmington local paper? And now that she recalled Grams’s hazel eyes had twinkled mysteriously as she put the classified in front of her and said, Best be finding something to do before you start working at the university in the fall. I don’t want you moping around here all summer as I plan to spend my time with Miriam in Myrtle Beach.

Chaz had looked down at the ad and it jumped out at her, as though it had been spelled. She remembered now that she had looked up from the ad at her grandmother, who had suddenly gotten busy with pots and pans. Spelled? Her grandmother had given up the art a long time ago.

Grams didn’t know that she was immune to ordinary spells. No. Only her mother had known that. It was a secret Chazma kept for a reason.

Chazma Donnelly had graduated top of her class and then was immediately hired by the university she had attended for the last four years to take on the job she had dreamed about. A computer whiz, her specialty was database design and web development. In addition to the skills she had acquired through love and study, she had worked for three of the last four years, doing nearly everything one could do in the university library. She discovered a toe-curling interest in ancient texts. She relished running her hands over their worn covers and feel the love and effort that had gone into preserving them. She even enjoyed the menial tasks of gathering books and putting them back where they belonged.

Hence, when her grandmother had pushed the local paper at her with a job offering that read: Database Designer and Web Developer position available. Needs include electronic book cataloging and website design. Brionn Manor, Ireland. Send resume to: Pringle and Pringle, Box 1212, Dublin, Ireland. She had whooped with excitement.

Chaz sat back, thoroughly struck by such an opportunity. A job that combined both her librarian experience and her computer skills would be over-the-top fantastic. A job that, from the sound of it, was temporary, leaving her free to return in the fall. A job in Ireland, where she had wished to go.

No doubt the owner of Brionn Manor was a private collector of ancient texts, manuscripts, and classic books. This person must have an extensive library. This sounded almost too good to be true. And then she thought of her mom. What would her mom say to her plans? She could see her mother wagging her finger and reciting, If it looks too good to be true...

Precisely. A catch was woven in this somewhere, but what it could be she couldn’t fathom. She had read and reread the job offer, a suspicious sensation lighting in her brain. The job was exactly what she wanted, so she told herself with only a twinge of doubt, go for it!

She had a need to get to Ireland, which she couldn’t shake. It was where everything had started. The reason she lost her parents lay bubbling just beneath the surface in a village called Brionn.

No! She objected viciously in her mind. She didn’t just lose them—they didn’t just die. Someone wrenched them viciously, horribly out of her life. It was a devastating loss—more so because she had lost both parents at once. They had been savagely murdered on the streets of New York. The unimaginable tragedy dug holes in her gut.

Her grandmother believed she wanted to go to New York to investigate their murders. It had been a double homicide that had left the police baffled. There had been no DNA, no bullets, nothing left behind except the remains of her parents—torn and shredded and dropped in the gutter to bleed out.

She vowed she would find the beast that had done that to them. The oath lodged in her soul. And Chaz already had an idea just where their vicious killer had originated from, and she knew it wasn’t New York.

She had no intention of wasting time in New York. That was where her parents were slaughtered, but New York wasn’t where it all started, and that wasn’t where it would all end.

She had answered the ad with a letter and a résumé and a week later she received a call from Lord McBain’s attorney advising her that she was hired. He told her that a ticket would be waiting for her at the airline desk at the Wilmington airport.

The time would come very soon when she would wonder if she had gotten in over her head. Way over her head.

Chapter Two

BRIONN MANOR ROSE before her like a mystical castle from a child’s fairy tale. It wasn’t really a castle in the true sense of the word. The twelfth-century stone structure sported a whimsical roofline, peaked turrets, and a medieval design, which fed the imagination and brought a smile to Chazma’s face.

Ivy covered a great deal of the three-story mansion, but the ivy had been clipped and trimmed around the dark wood moldings that encased lead-paned windows. Chaz was thoroughly enchanted for the moment, and then that moment was suddenly lost in a mist of doubt. She recoiled. Impossible. This couldn’t be. What the heck? she whispered on a hushed note of fear.

She immediately blamed it on the dark clouds overhead. The promise of rain gave a gray film to the day. It was because so many Irish manors and castles looked alike.

Nervousness rollicked and rippled through her system, but Chaz steeled her resolve and she pushed the frenzied feelings aside. She was being fanciful. She told herself she was being overly cautious and suspicious. This couldn’t be the place of her nightmare.

Frozen in doubt, she couldn’t stop staring out her window as the limo made its slow trail up the long driveway.

Something, almost a soft touch, made her look out the window. A pretty sandy-colored and narrow gravel drive diverted her attention as she leaned closer to the glass and looked down the length of the off-shoot path through the woods. She could just make out a small picturesque cottage. Quaint and inviting. She sat back a bit and tried to relax. What the heck was wrong with her?

Chaz wondered briefly who lived there, and when she finally returned her gaze back to Brionn Manor everything was as it should be.

It was just as she first thought—simply a charming, albeit huge estate, but charming all the same! This was not the ominous mansion of her nightmare.

It couldn’t be. She was sure of it—wasn’t she?

The limo driver pulled up to the front steps of the manor, which led to an inviting covered patio whose roofline was supported by large oak beams. Potted flowers and greenery decorated the flagstone entrance and made her feel at ease.

The driver, who had introduced himself at the airport as Patrick, had been kind enough to point out various sights along the coastal drive to Brionn Manor.

He gave her a soft smile as he opened the door for her, and another as she hesitated. There, miss. I’ll be bringing yer bags in and putting them in yer room, so ye don’t have to fret none about them.

Chaz thanked him and smoothed the curly wool lining of her denim jacket into place as she stood. She took a step forward and her heel buckled and Chaz feeling like an oaf, tripped. Ugh…these heels! She made a mental note that the heels she was wearing might be stylish and pretty, but not for traveling. Next time, girly girl, sneakers will do just fine!

She stood a moment as she wiggled her feet and then pulled her fitted denim skirt into place. She saw that she had a run in her stocking and bent to put a finger to it, saying on a low, disgusted note, Damn and double damn!

A sexy male voice with a deep burr commented, Aye, travel can be the very devil.

His voice tickled its way through her and she snapped to attention and her mouth dropped open. On the stone patio, with the dark oak door opened wide at his back, stood a tall, exceptionally well-built blue-eyed, black-haired hunk. No. The word hunk didn’t say enough. He was hot beyond imagination. Huge and hot, hot and huge, and she lost her voice somewhere in her mind, which also stopped working, as she thoroughly perused him.

A cream-colored knit silk sweater displayed wide shoulders. Black pants and silver-toed black boots completed his ensemble. Unable to stop herself from looking him over, she realized how she must appear: arms flung out in surprise, her bag dangling from her bent elbow, mouth open. She closed her mouth and tried to speak. Fortunately he saved the moment with a killer smile and an outstretched hand as he skipped down the short, wide flagstone steps. He reached for her and gently touched her arm to lead her forward. I should introduce myself. I am Jethro McBain.

Chaz closed her mouth—it had dropped open again. This was downright flabbergasting and unexpected. Whoa there! What was he saying? He’s my employer? She was to stay in this guy’s place—alone—with him...together? However, this question was immediately replaced as surety dawned that while he smiled (and that smile was devastating), it had not reached his very fine cool blue eyes. In fact, those eyes held a tinge of ice in their expression.

Okay…what is this? Jeez, if I didn’t know better, I might think he doesn’t want me here. She managed a polite, quick smile while her mind worked furiously.

The letter she had received had told her she would be working for Lord Jethro McBain, but she had imagined someone so much older. This huge, oh-so-fine hunk couldn’t be older than thirty. Are you—you couldn’t be…you must be his lordship’s son? Something of a squeak came out of her lips.

He smiled quizzically. No, lass, sadly I lost m’da a long time ago. All the while, his lazy glance swept over her. Suddenly he shook his head as though chastising himself. But what am I doing keeping you here standing in the cold? Come in, you must be tired after your long trip. There are refreshments in the study.

Impeccable surface manners, but beneath that well-bred smooth exterior was something else all together. Something raw that spelled out dominance. She sensed disapproval, and again had the feeling that her presence was unwanted. Movie-star looks hid a wall of ice blocks reinforced with steel.

The notion made her shiver.

Silently, Jethro led Chazma into the central hall and stepped up to an ornately carved oversized door. He reached for its large brass door handle and opened it wide to display a warmly decorated and inviting room. He tilted his head. Go right up to the fire, lass. That’ll warm your bones some.

She dropped her handbag, stretched out her hands to the flames, and made a soft pleasurable sound. Lord McBain cleared his throat. Chaz spun around to find the lord of the manor at the coffee table in front of a maroon damask sofa.

Coffee? The question was coldly polite.

Chaz was starving and the scent of coffee filled her nostrils. Oh…yes, please. She turned toward him and moved to take the mug he held out to her, shaking her head to his offer of cream and sugar. Black is just fine.

Sighing over the steam wafting toward her nostrils, she took a sip, pleased to find the brew tasty and hot.

Sit…we’ll discuss yer duties, and yer hours, which can be as flexible as ye like, and what ye might need to know to go on comfortably here at Brionn. A large dark leather-bound winged chair was at his elbow. He sat and leaned into it, stretching his long, muscular legs out before him as he folded his large hands into one another on his hard wide chest and watched her through lowered, thickly lashed eyelids.

Chazma had to concentrate on what he was saying as she found her wandering eyes traveling over him with one thought—magnificent.

What? Oh, yes—duties, she said. Stop it, she scolded, but immediately forgave herself. After all, this man was beyond any she could have created in her wildest imagination. She was entitled to a ‘look’ or two, or three.

Hastily she looked away. Business. She had to get back to business.

There would be no stepping over the line she had carefully drawn for herself when she had decided to take this job. Quickly she recited the rules in her mind. He was her boss. Major rule was don’t mess with the boss. Two—she was here with a serious single purpose, and simply did not have time for ogling hunks. Besides that, he seemed (in spite of his manners), a haughty, cold-blooded customer that obviously had no interest in her, which didn’t matter because her reasons for being in Ireland had nothing whatsoever to do with romance.

Ruefully, she thought that it wouldn’t be too difficult, as she could see he