Midnight's Reckoning: The Cynn Cruors Bloodline Series, #10

By Isobelle Cate

The Eald is gone.

The Cynn Cruors are in a race to find the Eald before word leaks out and all hell breaks loose. In the meantime, someone has taken his place, threatening to cause chaos within and outside the brotherhood - someone who has placed the Cynn Cruor women's lives in danger.

With so much going on around them, cracks are starting to appear where love should have prevailed. Loyalties are tested and tragedy is the order of the day. What's more, Dac Valerian's decision to sleep with the enemy has someone from his past returning to haunt him.

Will the Cynn Cruors and their women come out unscathed from this most dangerous mission yet?

Or will this be the end for the Cynn Cruors?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Isobelle Cate
• Release date: Jul 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9798223467670

Book preview

Prologue

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Alaghom Na-Om, also known as the Deoré, thanked the Cynn mortal for parking her car. She would have done it herself and give her dark blue BMW Roadster a good rub down. However, the visit to the families of the mortals killed when Adara Kerslake’s first husband, Connor Boyd, breached the Faesten’s defenses a few days before exhausted her.

The mere thought of her beloved Ieldran being killed made her hackles rise and the werewolf inside her dying to take over. Alaghom would have crushed Alastair’s windpipe and pulled his entire spine from his neck. But the Eald had reduced the traitor to an incoherent mass once his mind was crushed by the Eald’s magick.

She breezed up the grand staircase, inhaling the calming scent of the sea mixed with her garden’s blooms passing through the wide open French doors of the lobby. She stopped midway, her nose lifted and twitched. A storm was brewing that even the electrons in the air had her eyes watering. There was something else, something she couldn’t put her finger on. Old magick? She wasn’t sure.

Pain hit her out of nowhere. The sudden excruciating jabs behind her eyes were as agonizing as hot pokers twisting into her pupils. She screamed.

Alaghom, my beloved. I’m not me. Find me.

The mortals patrolling the grounds and the floors converged to where she was, but she couldn’t look at them. The pain that started from her nape and travelled down her spine to her heart was so excruciating that Alaghom exploded in a ball of cloth and fur. Her beast bayed in the centre of the grand staircase as her bones broke and reformed. She reined her beast in, but it was a tug of war between her and a being who had the strength of ten men.

It had been ages since she had morphed into this primordial version of herself - the one where she was on all fours. The last time she took this form was when General Gnaeus Valerius Dacronius had attempted to assassinate her beloved Eald, when her beast almost succeeded in mauling Dac Valerian to death.

Then the blood of her father and forefathers, all shamans of her tribe began to sing in her veins, calling for her beast to heel. Her werewolf violently shook her head, snaring in protest before reason eventually gained the upper hand and Alaghom Na-Om stood. The primitive side of her animal receded replaced by the two legged creature with a sleek and shiny pelt. Her cheeks hollowed and her mouth and nose became a snub nosed snout, her teeth sharp and pointed. Her ears pierced through her hair and flattened against the sides of her head. Her fingers and feet elongated and webbed together. She raised her head and opened her eyes to see that the mortals stayed a respectful distance. The new mortal recruits and even those who had seen her transform in the past, ogled in fear and awe before they awkwardly knelt in deference.

My lady.

Armand Durant, Dux of Caen and one of the Ancients’ personal guards sprinted to her. His face was harsh and his eyes narrowed as he perused those around them.

Caen, it’s not them, she rasped. The Eald.

He stared at her in perplexity.

In your quarters, my lady.

He hasn’t left?

"Non, madame. He’s been inside the whole time."

The alarming rate of her heartbeat slowed but her senses still told her something wasn’t right. Without another word, she dashed past the reception hall to their anteroom, followed closely by Armand and a host of Anglesey Faesten’s warriors led by Alwyn ap Rhodri.

Alaghom burst through the door, her sense of smell assailed by the strong scent of alcohol wafting from the patio that had a view of the Irish Sea. She crossed the anteroom and gasped when she saw the Eald, unconscious on the floor.

My lord!

A sound between a keen and a growl rose from her throat when she saw the blood on the floor. The Eald’s eyes were closed, but he appeared to be coming around gathering from the quick eye movements beneath his lids and the vertical line slowly appearing in the centre of his forehead.

Alaghom cradled the Eald’s head gently. There was a gash by his temple that had grown to a bump the size of a quail’s egg. Blood trickled from it but was already closing as though an artist had taken a brush and painted over the offending red stain. The flow by the side of the Eald’s face was the only sign that there had been a bigger wound. Alaghom wiped the blood off and was about to lick it for she swore that not a drop of the Eald’s blood would ever touch the ground again. When she saw the red puddle on the floor her beast wanted to morph into its primordial form again. But Alaghom now had a handle on her werewolf. She controlled her beast, not the other way around.

Her beloved stirred and opened his eyes. Her relieved breath caught in her throat and her smile froze on her lips when another ripple of unease spread from the centre of her chest. Alaghom wasn’t so sure if it was a figment of her imagination or that her anxiety made her see things that weren’t really there. But the minute her beloved saw her, the Eald’s eyes darkening into unfathomable pits of hate.

Until it wasn’t.

She sucked in a breath and nearly released the Eald hadn’t it been for Armand ordering one of the warriors to get something to wipe the Eald’s blood from the patio floor.

Leave it, she said over her shoulder. I’ll take care of it.

He protested. My lady, the glass shards.

No one shall touch the Eald’s blood except me.

Armand’s face tightened. Indecision made him move in place as though not knowing whether he should leave or stay.

As you wish, my lady.

What...happened? A crease formed on the Eald’s forehead. He raised his hand to his temple, wincing. I remembered drinking then everything went black.

You fell and hit your head. Alaghom’s mouth curved into a smile she did not feel.

Sire, are you alright?

The Eald’s glance lifted. Yes...yes... Thank you, Durant. He paused. I don’t know what came over me.

What happened? Alaghom searched his face before helping him stand.

I was just drinking here. The Eald looked down. The drink. It tasted different.

Find out who brought this bottle inside. Alaghom ordered.

Armand nodded before leaving, giving instructions to the rest of the warriors to search the grounds.

Let’s get you to bed. She placed her arm around the Eald’s waist.

Shouldn’t you change back now, my love?

Alaghom smiled. In a minute. It’s difficult to do so helping you get to bed.

The Eald stopped and eased out of Alaghom’s hold. He faced her.

I have a desire to see you, my lady. You know that your beauty will make me feel better.

You will force me to do so? She didn’t stop the frown that pulled her brow low.

My beloved, when was the last time we were apart?

Just now.

We have never been apart even for a moment. The Eald let out a grimace. Maybe I should tend to my wound first.

He walked away slowly towards their bedroom.

Alaghom smiled. Maybe you should. I promise I’ll be right back. Let me see to the broken glass and blood on the floor. Then you can have me to your heart’s content.

The Eald’s eyes darkened with desire but Alaghom’s was non-existent. The love and lust she had for the man she had chosen above all else should have had a corresponding response of a gentle throb between her thighs. But those sensations were absent as though her libido had deserted her.

Alaghom smiled when the Eald glanced over his shoulder. She watched him pass the archway leading to their bedroom and the lust she convincingly showed dispersed like air molecules exploding into nothingness. Pivoting towards the patio she knelt by the shattered glass and the blood on the floor. She had to swing her head away from the wind to remove the tendrils of her hair from her face. She fell on all fours and let her wolf take over. She inhaled the blood before licking the floor clean, her heart cleaving in two at the taste of her beloved Ieldran’s blood. She would know the taste of his essence, the elixir filled with potent magick that gave her strength. Whatever shards of glass her tongue picked up would be pulverized in her gut.

Next, she placed her palm face up. Her pelt was coated with the blood from the Eald’s forehead. She inhaled the blood, her nose twitching.

She licked her paw and gasped.

She clamped her mouth shut, her sharp teeth digging deep into her flesh that she tasted her own blood. She muffled her wail, her anguish kept in check.

No, she said in a strangled whisper.

The blood on the floor and the blood on her hand were not the same.

The man who just entered her sanctuary was not the Ancient Eald.

Chapter One

The Cynn Cruors Faesten

Manchester

Jay Nevins grinned the minute he heard the beep notifying him there was activity worth looking at. He twisted sideways to put his coffee mug on the credenza separating the seating area from the huge computer console table in the nerve centre/library. The enormous plasma screen on the wall showing the grid of Manchester changed to the camera feed in the Faesten’s underground parking lot. The warriors and their women were back from Leeds. They climbed out of the SUVs and converged in front of the lift before the warriors opted to use the fire exit.

Jay inhaled the aromatic tendrils of Robusta and Arabica mingling with the scent of cherry logs burning in the library’s hearth. But his smug grin died at the thought of where his immortal brethren had just returned from.

Jay slumped on his chair and brushed his palm over the stubble on his head, the friction creating a musical score of sandpaper smoothing wood. He had spent the entire night in the library while his beautiful Florence slept upstairs in the quarters Roarke had generously assigned to them. He had glued himself to the screen as reports came in every couple of hours from Cynn mortals stating Scatha activity was increasing with alacrity. As head of the Cynn mortals, Jay trained each and every recruit to always second guess their nemesis. There was no excuse for being caught flat footed.

Jay, they’re here.

He inclined his head a tad over his right shoulder, his mouth quirking at the relief in Florence’s voice.

I know. He swiveled his chair around and opened his arms. Florence sauntered towards him, her svelte figure and sultry visage a magnet for Jay’s eyes. Florence gracefully sat on his lap and bent down to place her lips on his. Jay inhaled deeply letting her essence sink into him.

He never thought he’d find the right woman. He couldn’t find anyone among the mortals and taking a shot at a human brought its set of complications, even though he’d had long relationships with a few of them. But when Jay refused to propose or when he brought the relationship up the level of permanency, the women left him. They said they needed to be with someone who at least was willing to commit to the relationship and not play second fiddle to the Greater Manchester Police. No one knew he belonged to a paranormal breed. They just thought when he had to go in the middle of the night leaving them frustrated and unable to orgasm yet, it was the police calling him on some random criminal case. It was why Jay refused to commit completely. He had fallen for a human once, until tragedy struck when the woman became the victim of a hit and run. From that moment, he vowed he’d stick to fighting crime and not letting his heart become a replica of Swiss cheese.

Until Florence.

Now, Jay was willing to let his heart be riddled with holes the minute he saw her after she and her friend Anthea were rescued from Elliot Hammond’s house.

Florence was also different. She knew who they were and even though she was human she was the one Jay wanted to spend the rest of his life with, no matter how long that was.

We’ll finally get to go home. I hope this time for a little longer. Florence cocked her hip rubbing it against Jay’s crotch, her lips curving to a sensual grin when his cock prodded back.

You know I’d do my best to make that happen.

Florence cupped his face in her hands. That’s all I can ask until this war ends.

It was a while before they stood and ambled to the entrance of the library just as the lift opened with a gentle whisper. The Cynn Cruors’ women stepped out into the lobby as Roarke, Zac, Graeme, Finn, Blake emerged from the fire exit, and Luke emerged from a portal in the middle of the lobby. The low hum of muted conversations and greetings swirled around as Finn crossed strode to the armory located across the lobby from the Faesten’s kitchen. He punched in the code and the warriors one by one deposited their swords and weapons inside.

Graeme made a beeline to his mate, Kate, holding her tight and burying his face in her golden hair. Kate held him to herself, their joint sadness mirrored by the rest of the warriors and their women.

Jay’s lips formed a straight line. He loved those two as though they were his own family. It didn’t matter that Graeme had been a thorn on his side, always needing Jay’s help to get him out of a bind where women were concerned. When Kate came into Graeme’s life, it ended the calls at different hours of the night. Their love story had been rife with heartache when Kate and Florence’s best friend Tommy had been changed to a Scatha Cruor and killed by Kate’s own hand. Jay couldn’t even begin to imagine the horrors Tommy went through in his transition to save his friends from becoming a human trafficking statistic.

Jay rubbed the centre of his chest to ease the tightness pitching camp there. Tommy had sacrificed himself to secure the freedom of the people he loved. Jay never thought he’d be grateful for what a Scatha Cruor did.

History repeated itself with Mackenzie Butler. To be exiled from everything he knew and everyone he loved? Jay felt a chill that could have come from the Gulag. Bloody hell...He may be fierce in fighting the Scatha and leading the mortals. But he’d go quietly out of his mind if he was forced to leave everything and everyone he knew.

How’s everything, Nevins? Graeme linked his hand with Kate’s as they neared him.

Graeme’s voice was the reprieve Jay needed away from his troubled musings.

The Cynn mortals are changing shifts in a while. Jay faced the console table while Florence left the nerve centre. Two Scatha Cruors and mortals were caught around the vicinity of The Lowry selling Ecstasy to people attending a rave. The mortals are being processed by the police. The Scatha Cruors are being held in the interrogation centre.

Good, Graeme nodded. Let’s check with Roarke to see who he wants to assign them to.

Assign what to?

Roarke entered the library, removing his leather jacket and dropping it on the sofa. He was followed by Luke and Adara.

Interrogating Scatha Cruors caught last night. Jay replied. His eyes darted to the rest of the warriors who came in with mugs of steaming coffee.

I sensed you were dying for another one. Florence came in with them, her green eyes twinkling as she handed him another mug. Jay rewarded her with a tender kiss.

Luke and Adara can see to it, Roarke strode to the wet bar and splashed himself a double shot of Laphraoig.

Where are they? Adara asked as she partially unzipped the constraining lapels of her leather suit just to show a little cleavage, her shoulders relaxing. Her face was pinched with fleeting frustration then resignation.

Cynn Cruors interrogation centre, Roarke replied.

Will do, Luke said as he and Adara retreated to the lobby.

"Not now, now, people. Roarke half scowled and huffed. Ancients know we all need to take a breather after Leeds. He pointed at Adara. You need to check on David."

The Eald shouldn’t have done that. Eirene slumped on the couch beside Finn who gave her a peevish stare.

You really just had to say that.

Her gaze darted around when several pairs of eyes were directed at her. What? So, sue me. What I’ve said is on everyone’s mind. You all know how I feel about keeping everyone together.

I’ll allow it. Roarke jerked his head in the affirmative, his frown deepening. I can understand your wanting us all to be together. But talking that way about the Eald? Not much.

Eirene pursed her lips and tucked her hair behind her ear.

Finn bumped her shoulder with his. Guess this is a no bacon day.

No, she mumbled. It’s not a bacon kind of day. There are waffles, mushrooms, hash browns and sausages in the kitchen.

At least we’ve got breakfast twenty-four seven, Blake quipped.

No bacon... Graeme whistled. That’s a first though I don’t blame you.

Jay watched all of them. Talking about the Eald that way may not get Eirene a hundred lashes on the back; but it was something that wasn’t done. All his life, he’d never heard of any dissenting talk about the Ancients unless it was from a Scatha Cruor. For Eirene to voice out her disagreement was worrying but...understandable. Still, even though Mackenzie Butler had returned, Jay’s sentiment was with the Eald. Mack should have gotten more than a slap on the wrist. He should have been the one given a hundred lashes. Other Cynn Cruors would have clamored for his execution. Being exiled was the lesser of two evils.

Silence was a thick blanket of cold rather than warmth. Jay didn’t want to intrude into anyone’s head space. Despite the lack of visible Scatha Cruor activity, human and drug trafficking was on the rise. The destabilization of the Scatha Cruors after Herod’s death should have been good news. But if the Scathas ran amok, they might as well expose the humans to a supernatural world existing in tandem with their own.

What do you want to do? Zac asked, his voice hoarse and gruff since his near-death experience in the Honduras. He had his arm over the back of the sofa while he played with Faith’s hair.

B.A.U.

Blake stopped whispering sweet nothings into Phoebe’s ear, swinging his head around. B.A.U.?

Business as usual, Roarke bent down and parked his squat glass on the low coffee table. Shift rotations with the mortals, check for Scatha activity, and make sure abductions don’t happen. He paused. My lady, I think Colin and Amaryllis need the Haven Foundation now more than ever to take their minds of Mack for a while.

Deanna linked her hand with his, her cornflower blue eyes, sad. I’ll set off mid-morning.

I’ll join you. Eirene sat up. She rubbed the heel of her palms over her eyes, appearing tired. It’ll be good to get Kids Come Home involved there too.

Finn, you up to taking them? Roarke shifted his attention over to his second.

What kind of a dumb question is that? Finn scowled even more.

Roarke held his hands up. Just not taking anything for granted. Besides, he let out a long exhale, I’m exhausted. Never thought I’d get drained this way.

Takes longer to get over emotional exhaustion. Colin was one of us, Dux. By extension so are Craig, Liam, Cormac, and Mack, Zac said. His loss is keenly felt by us all.

I saw you speak to the Eald after he handed down Mack’s sentence, Zac. Adara began. What was that about?

I was hoping the Eald would change his mind. Tried to make him see reason.

Guess it didn’t work. Luke piped in beside Adara. They exchanged morose glances.

You’re right it didn’t. Zac agreed. Because I didn’t say anything.

What? Why? Graeme stared at him, perplexed.

Because he said The Hamilton would know how to read between the lines. The Hamilton did.

But he banished Mack. Graeme stared stating the obvious.

You may not like it but Mack Butler is lucky to leave with his life. Zac eyed them pointedly. If any Cynn Cruor, present company and Leeds excluded, knew what really went down, they won’t be forgiving of the Ancients. After the stunt Alastair MacCrea pulled in Anglesey, I’ve no doubt there are others who may share his sentiments.

But to be incommunicado in a place where he doesn’t know anyone? Graeme asked in utter disbelief.

Better a banished Cynn Cruor than a dead one. Roarke said curtly, sitting down. His arms rested on his thighs, hands clasped together. Not ideal where Colin’s concerned but at least we know Mack is alive with Jasmine. They both have a shot at a different normal.

As Kylar Servant, Deanna murmured. Her eyes filled with wonder. Who would have thought one of the most sought- after artists is a Cynn Cruor. The prices of his works have shot through the roof. Despite what everyone thinks right now, something good’s come out of this.

A friend of mine doing the Arts and Lifestyle beat of a London daily said there’s been an influx of international buyers making their way to Rotherham Galleries, Kate said, her mouth curving as her Aegean blue eyes twinkled. Same goes for owners or agents of reclusive collectors of each and every piece sold at the show. Except of course for the sculptures Mack gave to Colin.

And in turn will be for Duncan, Roarke’s mouth pulled to one side. He contemplated his callused hands as he rubbed them together.

Man, this whole thing sucks. Blake ran a hand through his hair, mussing it before putting his hands on Phoebe’s shoulders. I should be exiled too because of who I am.

Don’t say that. Phoebe spun in his arms and held his face in her hands. Never say that, Blake.

You’re a Cynn Cruor first and foremost, Strachan. No two ways about it. Besides you didn’t know until you came face to face with Herod. Finn’s face was a hard mask. Herod died for his sins and redeemed himself...even to me. Live the life he gave up.

Holy shit, Batman. Graeme gawked. Am I really hearing this?

That’s because Finn’s really a softie. Eirene hugged Finn’s muscular arm against her chest.

Finn grunted amid the snickers, and the pall of Mack and Jasmine’s exile lifted.

What would you have told the Eald? Luke prompted glancing at Zac as he sat on the wingback chair by the fireplace with Adara sitting on his lap. The logs sizzled and popped in the hearth. If the Eald didn’t tell you to trust The Hamilton to do the right thing, what could have stopped Mack’s execution?

Zac shrugged. Doesn’t matter now. Everything’s worked out for the best.

Faith’s phone buzzed. She read the text. Karina is ending her shift and the other nurse has called in sick. I better go down to the hospital wing.

I’ll come with you. Adara brushed her lips softly against Luke’s before she stood. It’s time I stayed with my son.

Be right behind you. Luke said. I’ll bring some food down with me.

Better get your arses to the kitchen. Zac’s gaze swept the room. Don’t think Luke and I won’t leave even scraps.

Jay chortled when all the warriors broke their nonchalant poses to sprint into the kitchen, leaving the women to giggle. Thank God, he had eaten his breakfast earlier.

Coming? Florence asked pulling his hand when the Cynn Cruor mates filed out.

That’s a loaded question, ‘luv. His gaze heated and his lips pulled up in a satisfied smile at Florence’s blush.

I meant did you want to eat. She smacked his arm.

Oh baby, you have no idea.

As Florence laughed and he embraced her from behind, Jay’s grin slipped. He wondered if anyone noticed Zac avoiding Graeme’s question.

Because he sure as hell didn’t.

Chapter Two

After Mack’s emotional departure, there was no way Roarke was going to allow his warriors to return to scouring the streets for Scatha activity. While he knew his warriors could switch off any emotion while they engaged with the Scatha, they also deserved a respite. He had half an ear listening to Jay’s report, preoccupied with figuring out what was coming next. Besides, there were more than enough Cynn mortals who were happy to oblige if it meant charging their clubbing and bar hopping to the Faesten’s account.

Roarke was one of the last to enter the kitchen after escorting Florence and Jay to the lift.  They had said their goodbyes, eager to return to their own home. As the lift closed, the smell of waffles, flat and cylindrical sausages, tomatoes, steamed mushrooms, fried and scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee filled his nose and his stomach rumbled in pleasure. Each of the warriors and their women filled their plates before taking seats in the Agora. Eirene listlessly piled food on her plate while Finn whispered in her ear and kissed her temple.

Roarke didn’t like her outburst earlier but for the first time in his life, he had misgivings about what the Eald had done. The immense relief he felt when his father commuted the sentence was an...embarrassment. He didn’t balk when the Council of Ieldran passed judgement on Cynn Cruors who became transfuges during the length of time he was a Dux. He towed the line when the Council ordered Luke to be flogged for disrespecting an elder, even if that elder was Alastair MacCrea. There were secrets he kept even from his own men because it was a vow shared by all Duxs who wielded power to discharge the Ancients’ commands. He had watched stoically when Duxs were stripped of their leadership and their Faestens disbanded while the warriors and mortals under them were welcomed by other Faestens. Former Duxs were relegated to becoming warriors under someone else’s command, unless he transferred his allegiance to the Scatha Cruors. Then no less than an execution would appease Roarke.

How the tables have turned with Colin and Mack. Now he knew the anguish of others at seeing the people they cared for stripped of their dignity and separated from family.

Eirene sure hit the nail on the head with one gigantic mallet.

Graeme and Blake defaulted to being baristas. Adara and Luke left as soon as they got their food and drinks, taking the lift to the hospital wing to be with David. Faith had removed the cancer from David, but she could not save him from the ravages of aging.

Roarke never knew what it felt like to become old and withered and eventually wasting away. His only window to that kind of death was at seeing healthy and strong warriors becoming skin and bones before they disintegrated after their mates were killed. When he thought Deanna had been killed centuries ago, all he had was a huge gaping hole of darkness that became his constant companion for five centuries. He could only imagine the pain that Adara was going through knowing a member of her family was at death’s door. At least she had time to be with her son.

He watched his mate interact with everyone and his heart swelled with love and pride. Deanna was his pillar of strength, his north star. He needed her now more than ever when everything his father and his men were doing was becoming the greatest challenge he was facing as Dux.

Going against the Ancient Eald.

Being the Dux of the Manchester Faesten was a heavy burden. Despite what his father had ordered, spying on the Ancients didn’t sit well with him. Yet he agreed to do it; he was a warrior who followed orders, and respected the chain of command despite his misgivings. What happened to Colin and Mack sorely tested the code he lived by. Colin had had his back for as long as he could remember, for Ancients’ sake! He still had phantom pains resembling a blade shot through the heart when his father had initially sentenced Colin and Amaryllis to death, only to commute it to banishment from Leeds. Colin’s saving grace? Amaryllis was human. Had she been a Cynn mortal, Roarke wasn’t so sure The Hamilton would have commuted the execution.

Thank fuck for small favours.

He remembered returning to Manchester having difficulty breathing until Zac told him he wasn’t having a heart attack because, one: Cynn Cruors were immune to human diseases, and two: anyone who wasn’t moved by seeing the near death of a loved one didn’t have a heart. Not one of his men ribbed him about it. They had felt the same way too.

A sour taste filled Roarke’s mouth remembering the humiliation Colin endured when he was stripped of his Duxship. Seeing his brother-in-arms after his banishment, ecstatic and loved up with his new family, made Roarke realise that Colin didn’t miss out on anything.

He did.

He had felt the stirrings of having his own family with Deanna, had been entertaining the possibility for quite some time.

Roarke?

His mouth curved upwards. Come here, my lady.

His gaze ran down his mate’s body. The gentle sway of her hips was mesmerizing. She wore a beige grandfather collared shirt beneath a midnight blue quilted gilet and tight jeans tucked into cognac colored knee-high boots. Her naturally copper colored hair fell below her shoulders in waves, and her cornflower blue gaze mirrored the love he had for her in his heart.

What is it? She placed her hands in his, stepping into his personal space.

The minute Deanna’s arms encircled his waist Roarke let out a long drawn-out sigh. This. I want this. Peace. Home. Love.

Deanna tightened her embrace, her cheek resting on his chest. Same here. My heart bleeds for Colin and Mack.

Mine too, Roarke said quietly. I find solace that Mack didn’t die.

Deanna pulled back to look up at him. We have to find solace in the little joys we’re granted. Even if at first we think them tragic.

He smiled as he caressed her cheek. The Duxship has been resting heavily on my shoulders these last few days, my lady. That kind of talk is exactly what I need so that I don’t forget.

Forget what?

That we will get through this.

Roarke! The Hamilton’s calling. Says it’s urgent. Graeme breezed through the Agora’s connecting door and out the kitchen. He held the tablet in one hand and the remnants of a sausage in the other. He popped the meat into his mouth and wiped his hand on his jeans striding ahead of everyone into the library/nerve centre.

Hey! You better wipe off all those oil prints from the tablet. Eirene called after him.

Yeah, yeah. Graeme grumbled.

So much for having a leisurely breakfast. Roarke exhaled before planting a kiss on Deanna’s lips.

They all scrambled and spread out to take seats or stand in their favorite places in the room. Graeme and Eirene took their places in front of the console table and brought the video link to the huge plasma on the wall.

Sire. Roarke’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t seen his father look so old and ashen. His heart tumbled to his gut. Mother...

No, son. It isna your mother. She is in good health.

Thank fuck.

Then what is it? He continued to stare at his father in confusion.

The Hamilton’s eyes flickered. The Eald is gone.

Chapter Three

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It was pitch black when he opened his eyes, no different to the time when he roused from sleep. The left side of his head ached and a part of his forehead throbbed. He felt the skin stretch taut as though it couldn’t contain his brain. To touch it, he had to grope his own face, his fingers inching their way upward from his jaw, his cheek, his temple.

The Eald hissed when he felt the protrusion on the side of his forehead. He skimmed the bump tenderly and willed his magick to