Page 4 of Possess Me at Midnight

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…