Possess Me at Midnight

He could find no Anarki on this side of the river. They were all near her, and she’d been so brave when he left. His distraction must be enough to draw them away, to where he now stood.



Reaching above him, he grabbed the nearest branch with one hand and lifted himself, then slung his leg over. Shimmying down the branch toward the junction of several branches, he positioned Sabelle’s white sweater in the shadowed wooden valley, then leapt to the ground and darted to the next tree.



Thankfully, no shouts from the other bank of the river, no signs of discovery—yet.



Clambering up the old tree, fighting a cold sweat of fear for Sabelle, he made his way into the giant tree, frantically glancing around for one of the younger limbs. Spotting one above, he climbed toward it.



“Over here!” he heard from a distance. “I think I see something!”



Time to draw them away now.



Ice edged out onto the limb and, with a roar, jumped high, then landed on the fragile wood, right in the middle. A sharp crack rent the air, echoing with his primal scream.



“I hear them!” Mathias called. “on the far bank. Capture them!”



Running through a few of the trees on the other side of the river and shaking branches, making as much noise as possible, he listened as a horde of Mathias’s minions worked back toward him. He stomped hard on the earth, crunching leaves with his boots.



Finally, he heard the Anarki racing in his direction. By the time they figured out it was a ruse, he and Sabelle would be long gone. Hopefully.



In a flash, he teleported back across the river, to the base of the tree in which Sabelle huddled. She’d smartly pulled her long, golden curls behind her back so that only the crown of her hair glowed in the moonlight. For both warmth and concealment, she’d curled up into a ball, clutching her knees, clothed in dark denim, against her chest. And she shivered.



He grabbed one of the sturdy low-lying branches and reached for the next one above it, then hauled himself up until he neared Sabelle.



“We’re not leaving yet?” she whispered. “They fell for your ruse.”



He held up a finger to stay more questions, just in case some of the Anarki had remained behind to keep watch on this side of the river. He and Sabelle couldn’t afford to give away their position or give the evil underlings chasing them any means of getting their hands on the Doomsday Diary. Since a woman could write her true wish in the book and have it granted, even the commencement of doomsday if she had the proper power and passion, they could not afford to allow Mathias anywhere near the book again.



Balancing his big feet on branches that flanked Sabelle, he reached down and lifted her into his arms. She drew in a sharp breath and tensed, but quickly forced herself to relax. He settled her in his lap, pulling her back against his chest into the warmth of his body. She snuggled against him, teeth chattering.



Ice tried not to notice how bloody soft she was, how the bottom curve of her breast brushed one of his thumbs when she exhaled, or her amazing scent. He willed his erection to stand down, but around her it was no use. Sabelle got him hard. Every time. It had been that way since he’d first laid eyes on her. Might as well get her used to that now. He wasn’t certain how long they’d be alone together, how many hours or days it might be before they reconnected with Duke and the rest of the Doomsday Brethren. The fact they couldn’t teleport without being detected threw a serious wrench into every plan he’d made.



But work with it he would. He had no choice.



Energy, however, he worried about. What would he do when his magic needed the charge he obtained from sex? His usual outlet was hundreds of kilometers away. And Sabelle sat in his lap.



Impossible. Somehow, he’d have to rile her up and have her send all her furious energy to him in lieu of the sexual kind. It wasn’t optimal. He’d rather cut off his arm than hurt her. But better to anger her than insult her with his touch.



“Don’t move,” he murmured right into her ear. Dear God, even her hair smelled incredible. “I think they’ve fallen for my distraction, but I want to make certain that there are no Anarki on this side of the bank before we make a run to the village just north of here.”



She nodded. “Thank you for acting when you did. They were creeping close.”



Ice shuddered, imagining what scum like the Anarki might have done when they realized they held magickind’s most prized female in their possession.



He tightened his arms around her and breathed her essence in deeply. No one, least of all Mathias, would ever touch a hair on her head.



But in order to keep that vow, he had to get them out of this valley alive.



CHAPTER THREE



THREE BLESSEDLY SILENT MINUTES passed, punctuated by the occasional sound of Anarki across the river, still beating the trees to find him and Sabelle. The fog rolled in. The temperature dropped. Ice feared rain soon. He could withstand it, but Sabelle … Bloody hell. He needed to get her to shelter quickly.



Clambering down from the tree quietly, he peeled off his brown sweater, ignoring the bite of the early December chill. It would be too big for her and smell like him. Hopefully, she wouldn’t mind. He had nothing else to offer her … but wasn’t that a metaphor for everything between them?



“Take this.” He handed his sweater up to her. “Put it on.”



She shook her head. “You’ll freeze.”



Ice stared. Who cared? She must know that no one would. “No time to argue. Put it on.”



Reluctantly, she grabbed the warm sweater, and he watched with perverse pride as she donned it. Miles too big, it all but swallowed her whole, but the fact it touched her skin made him 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, he rubbed it all over his torso, camouflage in case they were spotted fleeing from the other side of the river. He winced against the cold sludge, but applied it as evenly as possible. Sabelle watched him, blinking and stunned.



Grimacing, he reached up for Bram, carefully lowering him out of the tree. As much as he hated the miserable bastard, Ice knew all this jostling wasn’t good for him. But it couldn’t be helped. Damn bad luck that none of them had realized that, when Mathias briefly possessed the Doomsday Diary before Sydney had stolen it back, he’d had a witch write in it as well.



Securing Bram in his grasp, he reached up to help Sabelle to her feet. He caught her around the waist, and she slid slowly down his body. Bloody hell, she smelled luscious. His growing appetite for peaches surged—the blonde was a succulent fruit so beautiful, she made his teeth ache … along with everything south of his waist.



Get your mind off the princess. Get to safety!



Knowing they had no time to waste, Ice took Sabelle by the hand, hating like hell that he had to dirty her. “Tuck your hair inside the sweater, princess. We’re going to run for it.”



Quickly, she did as asked, then he crouched and began to run. Sabelle mimicked him, staying low to the ground as they trekked north, away from the river. Away from Mathias.



They put one foot in front of the other for a minute, two, three, five … slowly wending their way out of the valley. Behind him, he could hear Sabelle begin to breathe heavily. They had at least another three kilometers to go, and he prayed she could endure. He could use his magic to carry both her and Bram, but since they’d traced the book via teleportation, he feared using any measure of magic around the Doomsday Diary—at least until he knew what Mathias’s witch had written.



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



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



Ice whipped his gaze back to her. She was running for her life and cared about him? The woman amazed him. How was it possible that she and Bram were even of the same blood-line, much less shared a father? In his eyes, Sabelle was indeed a princess. But Bram was no prince charming.



They settled into a pace, slower than he might have liked, but she still jogged behind him. With each continued step, confidence infused him. He grinned when they reached the outskirts of town. They had escaped, without injury—and with the book!



Ice learned otherwise when, through the bushes covering the bend in the road, he saw three robed wizards fanned out across the route leading from the valley into town. Bugger! He clutched Sabelle about the waist to keep her close, safe.



Against him, she breathed hard. “How did they find us?”



“I don’t think they did,” he assured. “They don’t appear to be looking, so I suspect they’re guarding the road as a precaution.”



And he wasn’t certain how they would escape. Anarki at his front, back, and sides, no means of teleporting . . .



Sabelle took a deep breath. “Why don’t you teleport across town, get a car, then—”



“Steal a car?”



“Unless you own one here, yes.”



After being thought little better than a vagabond and thief most of his life, stealing didn’t set well with him. In fact, he’d never done it in his life. But desperate times clearly called for desperate measures.



“I don’t own a car.”



“Steal one, drive to that church down the road and collect me. I should be able to sneak against the side of this cliff and escape detection.”



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



“And be caught trying to find a way out of this town. No. We’ll reverse roles,” she breathed against his cheek.



Ice gritted his teeth to stop himself from turning to her, kissing her … and likely blurting the words that would be the biggest mistake of his life. Already, she intrigued and compelled him beyond logic. Sabelle Rion mate to a Rykard? Sounded like one of those damnable human television comedies.



“You have the pack with the book. Give it to me.” After he did so, she set it on the ground at his feet. Perfect. Now when she left, the diary would stay where she had placed it. He could get away, if need be, and hopefully it would remain hidden. “Stay here and stay quiet.”



She stood, and he grabbed her wrist and pulled 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 pointed to some glimmering, distant point to his right.



“I do, but—”



“I’ll take the car there, teleport back to you, then we’ll sneak away with the book toward the church together.”



Ice stared at her, conscious that he expended effort not to drop his jaw at her suggestion. She was going to steal a car? “Can you do that?”



“Drive? Certainly. Bram has fourteen cars. I often delight in sneaking one of his convertibles out and driving, just to feel the fresh air on my face and the wind in my hair.”



He could picture that. Would, in fact, love to see her hair streaming out behind her as freedom beckoned her. Even more, he’d love to see her hair streaming across his pillow as he sank deep into her body . . .



Who the bloody hell was he kidding? Tonight was as close to Sabelle as he would ever be. When he’d first met her, Bram had refused to allow her to shake his hand. Half the time, she looked as if she couldn’t decide if he was simply odd or truly frightening. And now she wanted to steal a car to help him get free? Yes, it was for her brother and the book, too. He understood. But she could have left him to his own devices after securing the car and driving away. Instead, she spoke as if they were a team … in this together.



Damn, even that made him hard. Well, harder.



Turning to her, their faces dangerously close, he nodded. “Go, then.”



Ice wanted to kiss her cheek, but didn’t dare. She wouldn’t welcome the gesture, and he’d only be tantalizing himself with what he could never have.



“Wait here.”



He nodded, hating to see her go alone, but it was the only way. “For thirty minutes. If you don’t return, I will come for you.”



“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 he opened his mouth, she shook her head. “Don’t argue.”



Like hell. He cursed as fear started to gnaw at his gut. “Be careful.”



Nearly midnight. Sabelle found herself in an unfamiliar Welsh village with a brother whose health had taken a downturn, judging by his intermittent coughing and moaning. Alone with Isdernus Rykard, the one man who scared her—even as he made her burn and ache.



The one man she could never have.



As the grandfather clock in the hall chimed the half-hour mark, Sabelle swallowed, hands wringing as she paced the bed-and-breakfast’s wooden floors, and listened to the shower run, imagining the steamy water streaming down every muscle and vein of Ice’s large male body.



Stop. Focus on Bram! Determined to give her brother her full attention, she crossed their rented cottage to check on him.