Page 2 of Possess Me at Midnight (Doomsday Brethren #4)

Chapter Two

T hough fearsome and reportedly insane, since becoming a member of the Doomsday Brethren, Ice has been on his best behavior—around me, anyway.

Hardworking. Polite. Even-tempered…mostly.

But the constant staring and the naked desire on his face tie my belly in knots.

He’s a puzzle that, against my will, I feel utterly compelled to solve.

His fierce expression makes me wonder precisely what he’s thinking.

Oddly, he’s one of the few people whose mind I can’t read.

I’ve tried. Nothing. Wondering what’s in his head drives me mad.

The one time Ice put his arms around me to heal Sydney’s injured friend, Aquarius, was arousing. Combustive.

And oh-so-forbidden.

Not only was I born to the Privileged class of magickind, I am among its elite, the closest thing to royalty in the magical world.

Rions are descendants of Merlin, the greatest wizard of all time.

While Ice… Well, the Rykards are not only Deprived, but disliked and distrusted—Ice more than most. I’ve heard whispers of his violent tendencies.

As if that doesn’t complicate our attraction enough, my brother loathes him with a boundless passion.

Anything between Ice and me is unthinkable.

“Is something wrong?” Lucan asks, wrapping his warm fingers around my chilled ones.

Ice’s fork clatters to his plate, his mouth tight.

The temperature in the room plummets, a chill settling over us like frost. That must be Ice’s magic.

I don’t need to read his mind when I can feel his hostility.

It rages across his face as he stares at Lucan’s hand wrapped around my own.

My breath catches, and my first instinct is to pull away.

I check it. Nothing good can come of fostering an attraction between me and a man I can never have.

Better to let him believe my attentions are otherwise engaged.

I grip Lucan’s hand in return, feeding off his strength and fortitude. The fresh flash of possessive rage that crosses Ice’s face makes my chest tighten, but I push the feeling away. Better a small pain now than a catastrophe later.

“Not at all.” I realize with a start that the entire table is staring, and I flush. “Truly. Eat up.”

Silence reigns for long moments. No one speaks, and the dead air is so thick, it’s painful. I nearly choke on it.

Thoughts blunted by worry, I search for something to say to the group. They’re too polite to pry, bless them.

Often at these dinners, Bram leads the conversation—or dominates it, as is his wont. The quiet now only reminds me that my brother might not live. That all might be lost.

Suddenly, Duke clears his throat and addresses the group. “No one can replace Bram, but someone must oversee our leadership while he recovers. Does anyone else want the role?”

Marrok shakes his head. “I know not magickind’s people or how to help them in their time of need. I possess not Bram’s diplomacy. Those who impede our cause would feel only the hack of my blade.”

“Which is why you’re a warrior, not a politician.” Olivia, his American mate, smiles.

Their affection, as always, seems to suffuse them in a loving world all their own.

“I will, if you wish,” Caden volunteers almost sheepishly. “Though I believe you have more experience to handle the difficult times that undoubtedly lie ahead.”

Though gratified by Caden’s show of solidarity, I agree.

“I formed the group with Bram,” Lucan offers, then swallows. “But my mourning has just ended. My temper is…uncertain.”

That’s an understatement. Lucan’s emotions scrape closer to his surface than I’ve ever seen in the decades I’ve known him. These days, he reveals too much with his gestures and expressions for magical diplomacy. Nor is he ready to wrangle and lead this group of strong-willed warriors.

“I could try. But I grew up in the shadow of the Council, studying at my grandfather’s knee. I’m better suited to politics than war, and I’ve been a member of the Doomsday Brethren less than a week,” Tynan points out.

His gray eyes are the color of a foreboding rain cloud about to burst. It’s a fitting metaphor. But beyond appearances, Tynan is a ticking time bomb. After losing his mate-to-be, Auropha, to Mathias’s evil, he’s too likely to explode in a fit of rage.

Everyone has spoken…except Ice.

Drawing in a shaky breath, I brace myself and look in his direction. He’s still staring at me, hot, intent. Something in my belly tightens again. Am I actually shaking?

“Who is wont to listen to a madman?” Ice challenges with a raised brow.

Duke clears his throat. “Then it’s settled. We must resume fighting and weapons training again. Marrok?”

“Aye. Tomorrow at dawn. Everyone.”

Caden rolls his eyes. “Oh-dark-hundred again. Great. I left the Marines, you know.”

“Foolish on your part. They were quite nicer,” Duke teases, then sobers again. “We’ll need to add security to the house. I’ve no notion how Bram’s magical defenses are holding up in his weakened state.”

“Not well,” I admit. I sense the invisible barriers around the estate thinning, dissipating like the morning mist under the heat of the sun—just like Bram’s life force. As it ebbs, so does the protective magic he’s woven around us. “I can feel it slipping away by the hour…”

“After dinner, we’ll develop a new network of magical security. This house is critical to our success. We need a place to meet, to regroup, to plan. Without it, I fear we’ll be too disorganized to defeat Mathias. Does anyone disagree?”

No one says a word.

Good. Another matter settled. Now if I only knew what to do about my brother’s diminishing health…

“…give us an update?” Duke asks.

It takes me a moment to tune in to him, and I surmise that he’s asking about Bram. If he wants new information, I have dealt with nothing else all day.

“My brother is resting but weakening. Neither Conrad nor Millie knows what ails him or how to heal him. I’ve no notion how to stop it unless we find his missing mate, Emma. He needs her energy to sustain his life force so he can heal.”

“I’ve got a call in to Aquarius,” Sydney assures. “As soon as I hear from her, I’ll let you know. We’ll find Emma.”

Even if we do, can we persuade her to care for the mate she took in a night of passion and abandoned before morning?

Silence overtakes the group again, punctuated only by the clink of forks and heavy sighs. I block as many thoughts as I can and eat a few more bites of my dinner before admitting defeat. Even the smell of food is making my stomach roil.

I stand to leave, and Lucan stays me with a hand at my elbow. I send him a startled glance.

Before he can speak, Ice growls, glaring at Lucan as if he intends to come out of his chair, across the table, and commit violence.

Ice wants me, and I swallow back a hot surge of answering desire. Oh, god. Does he suspect how deeply he affects me? If I ever find myself alone with him…no. Nothing would be more dangerous.

“You cannot be finished,” Lucan chides, scowling at my still-full plate.

I fold my napkin on the table and rise. “I must return to Bram. Thank you, ladies,” I say to Sydney and Olivia.

Before I can extricate myself from Lucan’s grip and depart, bells chime through the house. A magical calling card that announces a visitor’s request to enter the premises.

From Anka MacTavish, Lucan’s former mate.

Beside me, Lucan tenses, his face a wrenching mixture of anger and yearning. I feel the intensity of his pain gripping my chest, sharp and panicky, like someone suffocating. No doubt, whatever Lucan feels for me pales in comparison to the consuming love he still harbors for Anka.

Marrok stomps out of the room and down the corridor. I hear him open the front door. “She comes alone.”

Assured that neither Shock Denzell, the supposed double agent, nor Mathias with his Anarki followers have tailed her, I release the last bit of security around the house so that Anka can enter the room.

The first thing I notice is that the woman looks healthier than before…but not completely well. Shadows still lurk beneath her eyes, and her magical signature is dim. Is she not gathering enough energy in Shock’s bed? Or perhaps he’s taking more than he’s giving?

Lucan’s gaze is still glued to his former mate. Despair tinges his thoughts, and I ache for him. I understand wanting someone beyond reach.

Anka glances at Lucan, then at his hand upon mine. Hurt flares across her face before her amber stare skitters across the table and rests on Duke. “I need to see Bram.”

Duke hesitates, then casts a quick gaze at Lucan, who gives a small shake of his head.

“He’s not here,” Duke lies.

So they’ve surmised that because Anka is sleeping with a wizard they all presume to be the enemy, she can’t be trusted?

The witch’s thoughts push past my defenses, revealing her truth: in throwing her lot in with Shock, she has run to the man most able to protect her and least likely to make demands after her ordeal at Mathias’s hands.

Anka tosses fat, blond ringlets off her slender shoulders, her broken magical signature still matching Lucan’s, indicating their severed mate bond.

“He doesn’t seem to be anywhere,” Anka says, clearly frustrated. “I’ve been calling for him since dusk.”

“Council business. What do you need?” Duke snaps.

Anka presses her lips together, sends Lucan another uncertain glance, then addresses Duke again. “Earlier this evening, I overheard some alarming things.”

Since Anka is living under Shock’s roof and sleeping in his bed, she must have heard whatever she’s come to say at his place, probably from Shock himself. Did he get the information from Mathias?

“Go on,” I prompt Anka.

“I-I couldn’t keep any of this to myself. Not when there are so many people here I…care for.”