Read on for an excerpt from the final book in the Midnight’s Crown series…
Prologue
Briar
Someone was chasing her.
She’d awoken on that dirty floor, surrounded by the smell of decay and death, and run. Her instincts had screamed at her—don’t wait, run! Run!
So she did.
Everything hurt. Every sensation overwhelmed her. The sun was too bright. The sirens, the heartbeats, the traffic—all of it was too loud. The wind on her skin was like sandpaper, and no matter how fast she ran, she couldn’t escape it.
Then came the chase.
Something urged her forward. Inside her head, a tiny voice whispered that she could find safety. It was just ahead of her.
But then she got there—home. And she smelled them. Marcus. Sylvain. Hudson. Valen. Then the wind changed directions, and she smelled something else. The rot again. And death. So she ran, rather than lead the evil back to them. All day long she ran. The sun was bright in the sky, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she should be afraid of it.
But she wasn’t.
The sun didn’t burn her; it tickled her skin like static electricity. It distracted her for a moment, and she held her hand out to the rays. She felt it warm her, and she tilted her face back, imagining the heat burrowing beneath her skin.
Then the back of her neck prickled a warning, and she ran again.
As she ran, her mind cleared, processing the sensations that overwhelmed her. One by one, she filtered through the sensations, tuning them out to focus on the things that mattered.
Valen.
Sylvain.
Hudson.
Marcus.
Thirst.
Briar paused by the Charles River, tracing her face with her fingers. She should be burned down to the bone, but her skin was silky smooth. Her hands, when she examined them, were smooth and white, graced with golden freckles that were as familiar to her as her reflection.
A thousand questions assailed her—but one was central. How was she alive?
Perhaps this was a nightmare. Perhaps all of this was one of Asher’s creations from which she couldn’t awaken.
Briar breathed in deeply and caught a scent. It was familiar and loved, and she followed it like it was a marker tracing a street route. It led her home.
She breathed in again, and something within her eased.
But only for a second, because she was overtaken by her thirst. What had begun as an uncomfortable tightening at her throat, soon engulfed every other sensation.
The scent she’d traced here, it separated. Each one was original and unique: Valen, Sylvain, Marcus, Hudson.
Slowly, Briar climbed the stairs toward the door. She wanted to fly up them, rip the door off the hinges and bury her face in the source of the scent, but she was afraid.
At the top step, her energy drained away, and she fell to her knees. Hollowed out, she couldn’t knock, couldn’t call out, because her body was a shell.
Help. She couldn’t pushed the words past her swollen throat. Exhausted, Briar let her head fall to her knees. Marcus. Valen. Sylvain. Hudson. Find me.
As if they heard her, the door opened. Warm light and the scent of them filled the night, and she glanced up. It took every bit of energy she had, but she tipped her head back until she could meet their beautiful eyes.
She almost didn’t recognize them. Their faces were bleak, devoid of expression with eyes as empty as she felt inside, but when they saw her, they changed.
Disbelief.
Confusion.
Hope.
Briar wanted to wrap them in her arms, but she couldn’t move. She was weighed down with something that made such a thing impossible. If she didn’t fill up, slake this thirst, then she’d die.
Again.
She swallowed hard, then with the last bit of energy she had, she whispered, “Marcus. I’m thirsty.”
Marcus moved fast. She remembered a time when she wouldn’t have been able to track his movement, but now she could. He reached over Sylvain, sweeping her into his arms. He buried his face in her neck and breathed her in.
“Briar. Briar. Oh, God.”
They rushed into the living room, but he didn’t let her go. The others crowded around her. Hudson knelt by her, pushed back her hair and studied her face. “You’re alive.” His voice broke, and his icy-blue eyes filled with pain. “How are you alive?”
She’d lost her voice, used up the last of it speaking to Marcus, so she shook her head. She kept her hand wrapped around her throat as if it would ease the ache, and Hudson’s eyes widened.
“Marcus. Blood,” he whispered.
But Marcus hadn’t let her go. Maybe he couldn’t. His arms tightened around her, and he shook his head, so it was Valen who left and returned with an IV bag full of blood.
Briar breathed in. She could smell it, the metallic tang beneath the heavy plastic, and held out her hands before jerking them back. Why did she want it? What would she do with it?
Her gums swelled and something pricked her tongue. Slowly, she lifted a hand to touch her teeth. Fangs.
The logical part of her brain overrode the part of her that was freaking out.
Okay. Okay. So this was why she was alive. Okay.
Hudson passed her the bag, and she took it, wincing at the cold and the way it sloshed inside the plastic. “Bite it,” he said. “It will help.”
She brought it to her face, aware of Valen and Sylvain watching her. Delicately, she bit through the plastic. Liquid filled her mouth, coppery and tangy, and she gagged. Forcing herself to swallow, she gave the bag back to Hudson. She didn’t want to smell it, and she gagged again. Over and over she swallowed, trying to rid her mouth of the horrid taste. It had done nothing to quench her thirst. If anything, it was worse now.
“You have to drink, Briar,” Hudson whispered. “It will help.”
No. She shook her head, and Marcus drew back. He sat straight, studying her. In the quiet of the room, Briar heard his heart give a strong thump, and his pulse throbbed in his neck. Gaze drawn there, she eased forward and breathed in.
He smelled so good. Her mouth watered, and she pressed her face against his neck, wanting to bathe in his scent. He cupped the back of her head, pushing her toward his skin.
“Bite,” he whispered, and helplessly, she flicked her tongue against his skin.
Yes. This was what she wanted. Now she could move. Briar straddled him and eased back to hold his face between her hands. Her gaze went to his neck again, and then to his face.
“Bite, Briar,” he whispered, and his pupils dilated, hiding the sea-foam green of his irises. “Do it.”
Hesitantly, she dipped her head, lips grazing his skin. And then she bit.