Page 7 of Possess Me at Midnight (Doomsday Brethren #4)

Chapter Six

I f we can’t run safely in any direction, and we can’t teleport away, how the bloody hell am I supposed to keep the book concealed and Sabelle safe? Think, I demand of myself.

“Ice,” she pants in my ear. “I know we can’t rest, but…perhaps we can take refuge in a tree? Maybe we can spot an escape route if we’re up high?”

I smother my surprise at her cool head under fire. “Perfect.”

Gaze frantic, I scan the area. A stout old tree with several low-hanging branches sways nearby. I help her up, then hand her the pack containing the book.

Anarki trample closer. Too close. We still. Can I teleport into the tree before Mathias’s minions find me? Maybe…but I’m not willing to take a chance this close to the book. We need a distraction.

“Ice!” she hisses.

Our pursuers creep closer. I have to move—now. With a silent grunt, I heave Bram off my shoulder and hoist him into the next tree over. He’s hardly invisible, but between the dark and Bram’s black clothing, he might be camouflaged enough to fool Mathias and his goons until we can escape.

“Careful,” Sabelle whispers. “He’s not well.”

Agreed, but he’s not dead. He will be if Mathias finds him.

A glance reveals Sabelle’s white sweater flaring in the moonlight like a damn spotlight. As the Anarki close rank around us, I curse under my breath. A tree stripped of its foliage by winter provides little cover.

“Give me your sweater,” I demand in a whisper, standing at the base of the tree.

Sabelle recoils. “What?”

The Anarki are so very near now—maybe a few hundred meters away—based on a muttered curse and the footsteps shuffling through dried leaves. We have mere seconds left before discovery.

“Your sweater. Now!” I hiss, scanning the approaching shadows.

Sabelle glances down, understanding dawning in her eyes. Without hesitation, she crosses her arms and peels off the cashmere, revealing inch after inch of golden skin that gleams in the moonlight.

I catch the garment, trying not to notice what she is—or isn’t—wearing underneath. The thin fabric carries her warmth, her scent filling my nostrils. Focus, damn it . Somehow, I have to keep her from freezing.

But the threat of discovery is more immediate. Her safety must come before her comfort.

“I’ll be back,” I murmur. “If the Anarki find you, transport yourself and the book somewhere you’ll have help.”

“Leave you and Bram? No.”

For a princess, she is terribly stubborn. “Promise me.”

She shakes her head.

“Now,” I demand in a low voice the wind sweeps away.

“Bloody cold!” an invading wizard shouts fifty meters to our left. “Hate winter.”

I dodge behind the tree trunk and send Sabelle another glare, mouthing, “Please.”

Finally, she rolls her eyes. And nods.

Thank heavens.

With her sweater crushed in my hand, I try not to think that my soiled hands have probably dirtied it. Or that I can smell her alluring feminine musk rising to my nostrils.

“Stay. I’ll come back for you,” I murmur softly.

I hate leaving Sabelle for even a moment, and it’s a gamble, teleporting to the far side of the riverbank, inside a cluster of smaller trees. Crouched in the mud and remnants of snow, I smell the recent rain. My heart pounds in a violent rhythm that matches the litany of my thoughts.

Must return to Sabelle. Must return to Sabelle .

I spot no Anarki on this side of the river. They’re still near her, and she was so brave when I left… Bloody hell, my distraction must draw them away from her, to where I now stand.

Jumping, I grab a thick branch and lift myself, then sling my leg over the spindly wood. Shimmying down the branch on my belly toward the junction of several smaller branches, I position Sabelle’s white sweater in the moonlight, then leap to the ground and dart to the next tree.

Thankfully, I hear no shouts of discovery from the other bank of the river—yet.

Clambering up the old tree, fighting a cold sweat of fear for Sabelle, I make my way into the giant tree, frantically glancing around for a weak limb. Spotting one above, I climb for it.

“Look!” I hear from a distance. “Over there. I see something!”

Hoods swerve in my direction. Time to draw them away…

I edge out onto the limb and, with a roar, jump high, then land on the fragile branch. A sharp crack rents the air, echoing with my scream.

“On the far bank,” Mathias calls. “Capture them!”

After shaking branches and crunching leaves under my boots, I listen. I’m relieved when Mathias’s minions dash toward me. By the time they figure out it’s a ruse, the princess and I will be long gone. Hopefully.

In a flash, I teleport back across the river, to the base of the tree in which Sabelle huddles, shivering and looking terrified.

She’s smartly pulled her long, golden curls behind her back so that only the crown of her hair glows in the moonlight.

For both warmth and concealment, she’s curled up into a ball, clutching her knees, cloaked in dark denim, against her chest.

“You all right, princess?” I pull myself up on one of the sturdy, low-lying branches before hauling myself up beside Sabelle.

“Can we escape now?”

I hold up a finger to stay more questions, just in case some of the Anarki have remained behind to keep watch on this side of the river.

We can’t give away our position. Since a woman can write her true wish in the Doomsday Diary and have it granted, even the onslaught of doomsday if she has the proper power and passion, Mathias can never be allowed near the book again.

Balancing my big feet on branches that flank Sabelle, I lift her into my arms. She gasps and tenses but quickly forces herself to relax. I settle her in my lap, pulling her naked back against my chest. Heat flares where our skin touches, a dangerous contrast to the biting cold.

“I’ve got you,” I vow, my breath stirring the fine hairs at her nape.

She shivers and nestles closer. I will myself to ignore how bloody soft she is…

but it’s no use. The velvety curve of her breast brushes against my thumb with every exhalation.

This close, her addicting scent fills my nose and scrambles my head.

I stifle a groan. Holding Sabelle—knowing she’s placed her precious life in my hands—is exquisite torture.

Every nerve in my body flares. Against my will, I tense. My cock turns stiff as steel, as it does every time I’m near her. I swallow a curse, but there’s no hiding my reaction. No doubt, she feels it, but better she understands now how she affects me, even if nothing will ever come of it.

My primal attraction to the princess isn’t my most pressing problem.

We’ll likely be stuck together overnight.

Maybe even for days before we reconnect with Duke and the rest of the Doomsday Brethren.

The fact we can’t teleport without being detected throws a serious wrench into every plan I’ve made.

But I’ll work around that. I have no choice.

Energy, however… That’s a huge worry. What will I do when my magic needs the charge necessary from sex? My usual outlet is hundreds of kilometers away. And though Sabelle is sitting in my lap, she’s far out of my reach.

In lieu of sexual energy, I’ll have to rile her up and hope her fury provides me enough juice. The arrangement isn’t optimal, and I’d rather cut off my arm than hurt her. But better to anger her than insult her with my lowly touch.

“Don’t move,” I murmur in her ear. Bloody hell, even her hair smells incredible. “I think they’ve fallen for my distraction, but I want to make certain no Anarki remain on this side of the bank before we make a run for the village.”

She nods. “Thank you. They were creeping terribly close.”

“Of course.” When I imagine what the Anarki would have done if they captured magickind’s most prized female, I shudder.

I tighten my arms around her, and closing my eyes, I breathe her essence. I savor her for a forbidden moment. No one, least of all Mathias, will ever touch a hair on her head—not while there’s a breath left in my body.

But to keep that vow, I have to get us out of this valley alive.

It seems as if we’ve eluded Mathias and the Anarki when a twig snaps directly beneath our tree. My arm tightens protectively around Sabelle. Quickly, I cup my hand over Sabelle’s lips to smother her gasp.

In the moonlight filtering through the branches, I catch the flash of a silver insignia on black robes.

Mathias left someone behind, after all. And he’s looking directly up at us.