Page 9 of Possess Me at Midnight (Doomsday Brethren #4)

Chapter Eight

Sabelle

N early midnight. After hours of terror and desperation, I find myself just outside Monmouth, an unfamiliar, too-quiet Welsh village, very near tears. What the bloody hell should I do?

After teleporting away from Ice to the local village, I scouted frantically until I found a suitable car.

Outside a pub, I persuaded its owner to “lend” me the vehicle with a simple touch infused with my siren abilities.

As I sped back to secure the book and my brother, I mentally catalogued lodging options.

On the edge of town, I managed to skirt the Anarki search parties and find my way back to Ice. He was visibly relieved when I reappeared, almost as if he wasn’t simply worried about our mission…but about me. That expression stirred a forbidden heat I’m still trying to ignore.

Together, we drove a wide, circuitous route to avoid Mathias and his goons, Bram’s unconscious form laid carefully across the back seat.

Ice remained vigilant beside me, his massive frame filling the passenger seat, his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings as I zipped through the countryside and into the village via an empty country road.

The car hit a pothole, jolting us. Ice instinctively reached out, steadying me with a firm grip on my shoulder.

Even through his borrowed sweater, that touch sent heat spiraling down my arm.

Our eyes met for a charged moment before he withdrew his hand and resumed his vigilant watch of the darkened countryside.

But my awareness, the heat from his very touch, still lingered despite the danger pursuing us.

We arrived at this charming stone bed-and-breakfast—a place just isolated enough to be secure, yet not too far from the town center—under cover of darkness. Cautiously, I parked the car behind a building, hidden from the main road. But it’s close, accessible…in case we need to flee quickly.

Once more, I used my siren gifts to persuade the inn’s elderly manager that we had a reservation for the night and that we paid in advance. The man didn’t even blink at our mud-caked appearance or lack of luggage.

Inside, Ice and I locked the doors and secured the windows before I ringed the place with my magical defenses. He followed, his power overlaying mine protectively, hiding all hint of my signature. Then, despite being covered in mud and hovering near exhaustion, Ice insisted I shower first.

Quickly, I showered and settled Bram into one of the cottage’s two bedrooms before gesturing Ice to the shower. With a solemn nod and a lingering glance in my direction, he went, seeming to take all the air in the room with him.

Alone by the hearth, I sip chamomile tea with shaking hands, trying not to hear the faint sounds of water pelting Ice’s large male body.

The night has taken a steep toll on my brother’s health.

He lays fitfully, thrashing and moaning.

The unconscious effort is slowly draining his energy.

Without his mysterious mate—whom I have no idea how to find—Bram will burn through his energy and simply… cease to be.

As the grandfather clock in the hall chimes the half-hour mark, I dash across our rented cottage to check again on him.

The smoke around him looks thicker, darker, than before.

Cloying, choking. The labored sound of his breathing terrifies me.

His magical signature is fading, which means his life will soon follow if I can’t find a way to break Mathias’s terrible spell.

Frustration eats at me like a disease. I slam the bedroom door, the sound echoing through the cottage. I hate helplessly watching my brother slowly die. The sense of powerlessness enrages me until I want to explode.

I rein in my anger and crouch at the side of Bram’s bed, squeezing his hand in mine.

With a sigh, I bow until my forehead touches his unresponsive fingers.

This lifeless shell isn’t my brother. Bram is vital, commanding, brilliant—the center of my world since before I could walk.

The only true parent I’ve ever known. My selfish mother never cared for me beyond the prestige of having Merlin’s blood running through her daughter’s veins.

Losing Bram will shatter the foundation of my existence.

The very thought makes me physically ill, a hollow ache spreading beneath my ribs.

I’ve always pictured him beside me through every milestone: taking a mate, bearing younglings, growing older.

We’ve laughed and fought and helped each other.

Our bond, always durable, has only become stronger since Mathias’s return.

Eradicating magickind of the cancer the evil wizard spread through society is the cause Bram is most passionate about.

I don’t know how I—or the Doomsday Brethren—will finish that work without him.

Hot tears stab at my eyes again. Exhaustion and fear overtake my defenses. Two minutes. I’ll give in that long, then put on my brave face. Ice doesn’t need my tears, and we have no time for my useless emotions.

Suddenly, the door to Bram’s bedroom bursts open and bounces off the wall. There stands Ice—wrapped in nothing but a towel that rides dangerously low on his hips.

I leap to my feet with a startled gasp, hot tears still burning my cheeks—but my body’s reaction shifts instantly from grief to something far more dangerous.

Every nerve ending comes alive as my gaze locks onto his form.

Water traces slow, silent paths down the rigid planes of his chest, following the contours of muscles that could only belong to a warrior.

His shoulders consume the doorframe, his chest heaves with each breath, and the ineffectual towel does little to conceal the power in his thighs—or the evidence that I affect him.

Between us, the air seems to crackle with unspoken energy, a magnetic pull I’ve never experienced with anyone before.

My throat turns desert dry as unwelcome heat flares between my legs. My fingertips tingle with the forbidden urge to trace those water droplets down the ridges of his abdomen, to discover if his skin feels as hot to the touch as it looks.

“What’s wrong?” he barks, eyes frenziedly scanning the room for threats.

“I-I…” I can’t find my tongue.

“I heard a door slam. Are you in danger?”

Trembling, I rip my gaze from his massive chest rising and falling with each rushed breath. “No. I’m sorry if I startled you. I’m…anxious. Bram is getting worse.”

Tears threaten again, but I can’t show Ice my weakness. We’ll only escape this danger if I can stand strong beside him. Besides, his body might want me, but the way he calls me princess is almost a sneer… No. I won’t reveal my vulnerabilities and give him a reason to mock me later.

Despite my resolution, a fat tear rolls down my cheek before I can stop it and drops onto the inn’s black silk robe I’m wearing. Angrily, I swipe at my wet cheek.

Ice charges across the room. He reaches out for my hand, then stops before touching me, his tattooed biceps flexing with restraint. Quickly, he glances at Bram, his mouth turning down grimly.

“Have any other ideas how to heal him?”

Another painful weight settles on my heart. “None. Were you able to reach Duke and the others while I showered?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t dare reach out to them magically. If they’re being followed, any magical summons could be dangerous. And I didn’t have my damn mobile with me when the Anarki attacked.”

“Me either. The phone in this cottage only rings the front desk; I checked.”

Ice nods, then edges back, clearing his throat. “I, um…ordered food earlier. It should be here shortly.”

A lovely gesture, but I have no appetite.

Fear wells inside me, and to my horror, more tears spill.

I can’t contain the flood. My breath catches, and my vision blurs.

Scalding tears roll from the corners of my eyes.

No! Ice doubtless has little patience for weepy women, particularly not when times call for strong ones.

I slap a hand over my mouth and race past him for the bedroom door. His hot hand clamps around my elbow and hauls me back, dangerously close to his large, warm body, still beaded with water.

With his free hand, he pulls mine from my mouth, staring at me with an expression somewhere between probing and puzzled. “Don’t fret. We will see him well.”

The gentle note in his voice shocks me, bringing forth a fresh well of tears. “How? Th-that smoke is a mystery. No one has b-been able to figure–”

“Shh.” He lays a soft finger across my lips.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Ice’s touch on my sensitive mouth jolts me, as if my entire body is connected to my lips by an invisible thread. Heat rushes through me, settling low in my belly with a dangerous ache.

“Don’t think him into the grave,” he continues, his voice rough velvet against my senses.

I send him a shaky nod. I’ll try. Positive thoughts will help my brother more than fear.

Drawing in a trembling breath, I try to shove down another onslaught of tears. “I’m sorry to be a weepy mess.”

He draws in a deep breath, his chest expanding. I wince, waiting for him to scold or bellow at me. Instead, he wraps his brawny arm around my waist and pulls me against his body before he buries his fingers in my hair.

A million starbursts erupt, scatter over my scalp, my very skin.

The sensation sinks bone deep, fracturing my thoughts, my composure, my heartbeat.

His heat seeps into me, awakening feelings I don’t dare indulge.

But he’s unmistakably hard against me. That realization steals my breath.

Every point of contact between us burns like a brand, marking me in ways I don’t know how to resist. His scent—sage and cedar mingled with something uniquely, intoxicatingly him—fills my lungs with each breath, making my head swim.

“No apologies for tears. Bonds between siblings can be strong.”