Page 12 of Possess Me at Midnight

“But he may need?—”

“He is a full-fledged wizard with others around who can care for him.”

“But I’ve been helping him since Anka…”

My face must show my fury. I force it down with soul-deep willpower. I knew Sabelle had become MacTavish’s willing carnal sacrifice as he healed from madness. It lit a fire of jealousy and hatred in my gut. Lucan loves Anka still, but he uses Sabelle’s body, her sweetness and softness, for his own selfish ends. And Sabelle encourages him. Because she loves him? I know she will never be mine, but I’ll be damned if I stand by and watch Lucan use her.

“Would you rather have Lucan die or the Doomsday Diary fall into Mathias’s hands?” I growl. “Since you’re female, you must carry the book…”

She sucks in a shuddering breath. The feel of her breasts against my chest nearly unravels me. But this isn’t the time or place for my possessive lust. Then again, there never will be one.

“You’re right. I-I wasn’t thinking.” Her breath mists the cold air. I want to kiss her so desperately.

I don’t dare.

“Ice!” Duke yells through the dark chill.

I pin Lord High-and-Mighty with a stare and a raised brow, willing him to hurry.

“The Anarki are through the door and into the house. That fucking gray smoke is everywhere! Take Sabelle and go—now. Lucan is too injured to be anything but a liability to you. I’ll take him with me.”

Finally, some sense. I grab Sabelle around the waist. “Let’s go, princess.”

“Where?”

I know of many remote places between here and my boyhood home. I’ve a million places to hide–and remain tucked away as long as necessary to ensure Sabelle’s safety.

“Anywhere but here.”

Curling my arm more tightly around her, I try not to think about how perfectly she fits against me, how soft her breasts feel cushioning my chest, how her alluring scent fills my lungs with every desperate breath. It would be so easy to curl one hand under her backside and urge her legs around my waist so she could ride me…

Never happening, I chide myself.

Focusing on Wye Valley in the Welsh mountains, I will myself, Sabelle, and Bram there. My knees give out as darkness and a keen sense of weightless disorientation swallow me. But I’m hyperaware of clutching Sabelle close with one arm, while the other steadies Bram’s limp form.

Moments later, the ground rushes up under us. We land in a heap within a cluster of snow-dusted trees. The icy river trickles nearby. Lights from the nearby village are a hazy golden glow in the distance.

Thank fuck we escaped.

Though I’m tempted to breathe a sigh of relief, the danger may not be over. I scramble upright and lift Sabelle to her feet while hoisting Bram higher on my shoulder. I tug on her hand and lead her toward the town. “Are you all right?”

She nods, the silvery moonlight alighting her soft features and pale curls that fall gently to the breasts I’d give anything to touch. “Where are we?”

A sound—a twig snapping?—cuts through the night. I yank Sabelle behind the nearest tree, my body caging hers against the rough bark. My arm bands across her waist, holding her still as I strain to listen. Her breath catches, warm against my neck. For a handful of endless heartbeats, we’re pressed together, her spine against my chest, the gentle curve of her backside nestled against my thighs. My senses flood with her—the silken texture of her hair brushing my jaw, the hammering of her pulse beneath my forearm.

Then the forest falls silent. False alarm. Reluctantly, I release her, the loss of contact bludgeoning me like a physical blow.

I force myself back to the moment. “Wales. I know this area well. Let’s go.”

Since we need shelter, I take Sabelle’s hand and haul her deeper into the copse of trees. If memory serves me, there’s an abandoned house built into the nearby hillside. It should shelter us for the night and will be easier to defend than remaining out in the open. After I reestablish communication with Duke and the others, we’ll decide on a rendezvous point and a plan.

We’ve taken a mere handful of steps when I hear a whoosh behind me.

“Where are they?” a deep voice booms. “Find them. The spell Rhea cast on the book tells us it’s been transported somewhere nearby. Spread out!”

The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Mathias. Motherfucking hell. The evil bastard himself is chasing us. And that evil witch of his, Rhea, put a spell on the diary. The Anarki will know the Doomsday Diary’s location whenever Sabelle teleports with the book.

Bloody hell! The move was clever on Mathias’s part. I have to be smarter to save Sabelle and the book.