Page 8 of Possess Me at Midnight (Doomsday Brethren #4)

Chapter Seven

I n the moonlight, the Anarki goon opens his mouth to alert the others. My rage spills over. No one threatens what’s mine to protect.

Placing a hand in front of Sabelle and silently urging her to stay put, I lock onto his shocked stare for a fraction of a second, then flick my wand. His voice dies in his throat as my silencing spell takes hold—but that won’t stop him from teleporting away to alert the others.

Sabelle tenses, but she smartly nods as I slip from our perch like a shadow.

I manage to land behind the robed figure with barely a whisper of sound, taking advantage of his momentary confusion to hook my arm around his neck.

He thrashes, fingers clawing at my forearm, but I have too much at risk to allow myself to be overpowered by one of Mathias’s lackeys.

With a harsh jerk of my arm, I channel a burst of cold magic through my grip. His body goes rigid, then limp, frost coating his eyelashes.

As I lower him to the ground, I feel Sabelle’s shocked stare on me. I look up to find her wide-eyed—not in horror but something like relief. That expression pierces me in a way no blade ever could. She’s seeing me for what I am: dangerous but not to her. Never to her.

With the momentary threat neutralized, I hold up a finger to stay Sabelle.

She must be freezing, and the tree branch can’t be comfortable, but she doesn’t complain.

She doesn’t even fidget. She merely nods and waits.

Three blessedly silent minutes tick by, punctuated by the occasional sound of Anarki still across the river, beating the trees to find us.

Fog rolls in. It’s a blessing and a curse. The thick haze will hide us. But the temperature drops, and I fear rain soon. I can withstand the freezing wet, but Sabelle… I doubt her pampered existence has conditioned her to endure it. I must get her to shelter quickly.

Without a word, I reach up for the beautiful witch. Our eyes lock, a silent exchange that carries more gravity than it should. For one mad moment, as she lowers herself into my waiting arms, I wonder if she feels the inexplicable pull between us, too.

I catch her around the waist. Slowly, she slides down my body, her soft curves dragging against me with agonizing friction. Every centimeter of contact brands me like fire.

I close my eyes so I don’t gape at her breasts, mere inches from my face, barely covered in thin lace. It doesn’t help. The forbidden glimpse is branded into my memory, and I can’t escape the silken softness of her skin as her intoxicating scent surrounds me.

Desire for her thickens my blood, growing and swelling. So does everything south of my waist.

Get your mind off the princess. Get her to safety!

Once Sabelle finds her feet, the backpack that contains the diary securely strapped to her back, she wraps her chilled fingers around my arm in silent thanks.

I’m surprised that she noticed my efforts to shield her, but her acknowledging them utterly stuns me.

The princess has always been surrounded by those determined to protect her.

Why should my actions stand out? Yet something in her touch suggests they do.

But keeping her alive and well is my sacred duty.

I expect nothing in return. She must know that.

Together, we pause, listen. The fog now cloaks the valley in a pea-soup haze, making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.

The forest falls quiet as a grave, the once-distant shouts of the Anarki on the other side of the river fading away.

I clutch Sabelle’s hand tighter, afraid of losing her in our murky surroundings.

Then a freezing drizzle begins, seeping into my bones. It’s the sort of weather that steals warmth with ruthless efficiency. Against my side, Sabelle starts to tremble.

She can’t freeze to death. I can’t allow it.

I peel off my brown sweater, ignoring the bite of the December chill. My jumper will be too big for her. And it smells like me. I have nothing else to offer her, though. But isn’t that a metaphor for everything between us?

“Take this.” I hand her my well-worn jumper. “Put it on.”

Shock sweeps across her face. “You’ll freeze.”

Who cares about me? She must know that no one will. “Don’t argue. Slip it over your head.” When she hesitates, I growl. “If the moonlight hits your skin, and the Anarki are near…”

With a reluctant sigh, she takes my warm sweater. I watch with a perverse thrill as she dons it. The garment is miles too big, so it nearly swallows her whole. But the fact that it’s gone directly from touching my skin to sliding over hers makes me harder than an iron pike.

Bloody stupid bastard . She’s surviving, not letting you put some stamp of ownership on her .

Scooping up handfuls of mud, I rub it across my torso and pour some down my back; instant camouflage in case anyone on the other side of the river spots us fleeing. I wince against the cold sludge but apply it as evenly as possible. Sabelle watches me, blinking and stunned.

“We need to get Bram,” I mutter, pointing to the neighboring tree where her brother lies concealed.

She nods. “I can help.”

“I’ve got him.”

Grimacing, I reach for Bram, carefully lowering him from the tree and hoisting him over my shoulder once more.

As much as I resent the miserable bastard, I know all this jostling isn’t good for him.

But it can’t be helped. Damn bad luck that none of us realized that, when Mathias briefly possessed the Doomsday Diary before Sydney stole it back, he had a witch write the tracking spell in it.

I give Sabelle a bob of my head. “We should go.”

“Which way?” she whispers beside me in the shadows.

Since we have no time to waste, I take Sabelle by the hand, hating like hell that to guide her, I have to touch her with my dirty hands. “Tuck your hair inside the sweater, princess. We’re going to run for it.”

Quickly, she does as asked. Then I crouch and begin to run. Sabelle mimics me, staying low to the ground as we trek north, away from the river. Away from Mathias.

We put one foot in front of the other for a minute, two, three, five…

slowly wending our way out of the fog-laden valley.

Behind me, Sabelle begins to pant. We have at least another three kilometers to go, and I pray she can endure.

I could use my powers to carry both her and Bram, but since the Anarki can trace the book via teleportation, I fear using any magic around the Doomsday Diary—at least until I know what Mathias’s witch wrote.

Suddenly, a series of flashing lights penetrates the fog ahead.

“Down,” I growl, pulling her down and against me, doing my best to protect her from the muddy ground.

Through the mist, dark shapes move in formation—more Anarki, methodically sweeping the valley. They haven’t seen us yet, but they’re between us and the village.

As I watch their movements more closely, a chill runs down my spine.

These aren’t random patrols. The Anarki are moving in a distinct pattern, gradually closing distance between search parties.

They’ve not spotted us, but they’re narrowing down the area—like hunters tracking prey by elimination rather than sight.

Rhea’s spell may not pinpoint our exact location while we travel on foot, but it’s giving Mathias enough to methodically tighten the net around us.

We don’t have long before that net closes completely.

I’d love for Sabelle to simply write in the thing and wish away all our problems…

but magic that powerful is never easy and never immediate.

And if it doesn’t work fast enough, or doesn’t work at all, we’ll have wasted precious resources we can’t afford to lose.

The dark shapes pause, their voices carrying faintly through the fog. They seem frustrated, arguing amongst themselves.

“Split up. Half continue south. The rest, follow me,” commands a gruff voice I don’t recognize.

Beside me, Sabelle’s breath catches. The Anarki forces divide before our eyes, half of them trudging away from our position, the others moving toward the village but along a path well east of our hiding spot.

I wait until their footfalls fade before raising my head cautiously. The way ahead looks clear, a narrow corridor between search parties.

“Now,” I whisper. “Stay close. If we move quickly through the gap, we might make it to the village before they regroup.”

Sabelle nods, her eyes bright with determination, despite the mud smeared across her cheek. Seeing magickind’s princess willingly filthy and still fighting ignites something fierce in my chest.

“You’re doing well. Keep going. I’ve got you.” I squeeze her hand.

She squeezes back. “I won’t let you down.”

I whip my gaze back to her. Sabelle is running for her life, and she cares about me ? The woman amazes me. How is it possible that she and Bram are even of the same bloodline, much less share a father? In my eyes, she’s every inch a princess. But Bram is no Prince Charming.

We settle into a consistent pace, slower than I like but she still jogs behind me. With each step, I grow more confident. And when we reach the outskirts of town, my wide smile threatens to break my face. We escaped, without injury—and with the book!

Or at least I thought so until, through the bushes covering the bend in the road, I spot three robed wizards fanned out across the route leading into town. Bugger! Doing my best not to sully her with the mud covering my body, I clutch Sabelle to keep her close and safe.

Against me, she breathes hard. “How did they find us?”

“I don’t think they did. I suspect they’re guarding the road as a precaution.”

And I’m not certain how we’ll evade them so I can get Sabelle to safety. Anarki at my front, back, and sides. No means of teleporting…

She takes a deep breath. “Why don’t you teleport across town, get a car, then?—”

“Steal it?”

“Unless you own one here, yes.”

Though most think I’m a lowlife and a thief, I don’t steal. I never have in my life. But desperate times clearly call for desperate measures.

“Of course I don’t.”

“Then take Bram and steal one, drive to that church down the road, and collect me. I’ll sneak against the side of this cliff and escape detection.”

Stealing aside, it’s a solid plan, except… “I cannot drive. We should stay together and?—”

“And be caught trying to find a way into town. No. Let’s reverse roles,” she breathes against my cheek.

I grit my teeth to stop myself from turning to her, kissing her…

and likely blurting the vow that would be the biggest mistake of my life.

Already, Sabelle intrigues and compels me beyond all logic.

It’s laughable. Sabelle Rion mated to a Rykard?

Sounds like a plot from one of those damnable human television comedies.

“I have an idea. You have the pack with the book. Give it to me.”

She sets it on the ground at my feet. With my boot, I nudge it under a bush. She gives it another little shove. Now when she leaves, the diary will stay hidden where she placed it. I can escape, if need be, and it should remain there.

Sabelle nods, seemingly satisfied. “Stay here and stay quiet.”

When she begins to creep away, I grab her wrist and pull her back. “Where the bloody hell are you going?”

“To get a car and take it to the church. See the lights down the road, through the fog?” She points to some glimmering, distant point to my right.

“I do, but?—”

“I’ll drive there and teleport back to you. Then we’ll sneak away to the church with the book together.”

“No.” The thought of Sabelle alone, vulnerable without my protection, makes my chest constrict. Every instinct screams against letting her walk into danger. The Anarki wouldn’t simply kill her, they would deliver her to Mathias. And what he’d do to her…

But the determination in her eyes makes me swallow the rest of my objections. As much as I hate it, her sodding plan makes sense, even if it tears me apart.

“Fuck. All right. Can you do that?”

“Drive? Of course. Bram has fourteen cars. When the weather is nice, I often sneak out in one of his convertibles and drive through the countryside just to feel the fresh air on my face and the wind in my hair.”

I can picture that. Would, in fact, love to see proper, privileged Sabelle Rion sneaking out, breaking rules, her hair streaming out behind her as freedom beckons.

What other secrets does she harbor behind that perfect facade?

How much of the princess is real…and how much is a role she’s forced to play?

I don’t know, but I would love to see more sides of Sabelle, especially one in which her hair streams across my pillow as I sink deep into her body…

Who the bloody hell am I kidding? Tonight is as close to Sabelle as I’ll ever be.

When I first met her, Bram refused to even allow her to shake my hand.

Half the time, she looks as if she can’t decide whether I’m merely dangerous or terrifying.

And now she wants to steal a car to help me get free?

Yes, she’ll also be saving her brother and the book.

I grasp that. But after securing the car, she could have plotted to drive away and leave me to escape on my own.

Instead, she speaks as if we’re a team. In this together. Inseparable.

Even the notion makes me hard. Well, harder.

I hate this plan…but I don’t have better options.

Turning to her, our faces dangerously close, I nod. “Go, then.”

I want to kiss her, squeeze her hand—something. I don’t dare. She wouldn’t welcome the gesture, and I’d only be tantalizing myself with what I can never have.

“Wait here.” Her gaze is soft, reluctant. “And be careful.”

Her soft warning does something to me, but of course she’s worried about the book. Not me. “If you don’t return in thirty minutes, I will come for you.”

“No. If I don’t return, teleport to Duke’s. Get him to bring Olivia or Sydney to collect the book. Don’t waste your time chasing me.” When I open my mouth to assure her that will never happen, she shakes her head. “We don’t have time to argue.”

Fuck. I curse as fear starts to gnaw at my gut. “Be careful.”

She nods, and as I watch her, my heart leaps into my throat. If anything happens to her—if any Anarki lays a single finger on her—I will take every one of them with me and burn the world to the ground.

Sabelle disappears into the fog, and I’m left clutching her brother’s limp form, staring into the gray void. A minute passes. Two. Then I hear it, the unmistakable sound of Anarki voices, growing louder. But they’re not coming from the direction of the village.

They’re coming from the direction Sabelle just trekked.