No one could force the hand of Lucien Marcello, the Society’s most powerful Ancient.
Not even Anderson Stamos, half-dragon shifter and the newly appointed director of the Society for the Elimination of Malevolent Magick.
Perched on the leather sofa at Lucien’s Michigan house, Anderson fussed with a briefcase while Lucien’s gremlin assistant, Petra, watched television.
Lucien propped one polished loafer on the distressed oak trunk that served as a coffee table. He gave the director a cool stare and sent a thought into Anderson’s mind. I could snap your trachea with a flick of my finger.
Other directors had trembled when Lucien tested them. He was the most powerful of all the Ancients, soldiers who fought evil for the Society. But Anderson did not even sweat. Lucien gave an imperceptible nod of approval.
The director opened the crisp manila folder. “Your new assignment. Mara Fuller, age twenty-one. Until a week ago she was a full-time student. But Dennis Jones, a human psychic who has crusaded to destroy those he deems evil, abducted her.”
At the mention of Jones, Lucien hid his rage. “That bastard is still alive? What did he do?”
“Tried burning her alive in a furnace.”
Revulsion filled him, but he did not even blink.
“The flames went out and she escaped without injury. But she wants revenge.”
“Jones should die.”
“You know we can’t do it, Lucien. It’s up to the human authorities to bring him to justice. We are forbidden from touching him.”
Reaching for the wine glass that Lucien extended, Anderson inhaled the delicate aroma of the fine French vintage before taking a sip. Then he put down the glass to pull a snapshot out of the folder.
Lucien stretched out his hand. Willing it to him, the photo floated into his palms. He studied it with apparent detachment.
The sweet face brought back a vision he could never forget.
Mara. Eyes blue as a quiet lake, ash-blonde hair sweeping down in a blunt cut just below her soft jawline. That cute tip-tilted nose. He’d wanted to kiss it, trail his mouth across the smoothness of her cheeks. Chase away those shadows darkening her eyes and instead hear his name upon her lips as her face glowed with arousal.
He wanted to feel her naked skin silky beneath him, taste a hardened nipple beneath his rasping tongue, feel her honeyed slickness coating his fingers as he stroked her, coaxing her closer to pleasure….
Lucien knew it was his destiny to lie with her. To make her his own.
Inside his pleated wool trousers, he became painfully aroused. Sweat dripped down his back, dampening his cashmere sweater. Mara stirred his jaded appetite, whetted his desire into fierce longing. Yet this was not the fate the Society intended.
He set down his wineglass and the photo, knowing what the director needed. His cold heart thudded harder.
“You want me to destroy her,” Lucien realized.
Anderson said nothing, but regret shadowed his face.
You bastard, he thought, pain sluicing through his guts. I fight for you, I destroy evil. But I will not destroy her. Not this one.
Anderson drained his wineglass. “She’s a Darklighter, half-demon, half-angel. The mother was a fallen angel. She fell in love with Aticus, a lesser demon who’d hidden his powers. They produced triplets before Elena discovered her spouse’s true nature. The girls were left orphans at age fifteen and Mara, the eldest sibling by a few minutes and the most practical, took care of her sisters…there was a healthy trust fund Aticus set up for them…”
“Spare me the family tree. Give me the specifics of my assignment.”
Anger glittered in Anderson’s eyes. “The family tree has deep roots. You need to know what you’re dealing with.”
Lucien waved a hand and another bottle of red wine floated over, uncorked itself and refilled Anderson’s wineglass. “You need to know whom you are dealing with.”
The director sipped, and his eyes bulged. Choking, he spit out the vintage.
“It’s a mild poison, but can be lethal. Do you need a hospital?” Lucien inquired.
Petra rolled her eyes. She dashed into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. Anderson gulped it down.
“It’s only jalapeño juice. Lucien, you shouldn’t play with your guests. They don’t understand your sense of humor,” Petra admonished.
Lucien drew in a deep breath. “I will not destroy this Darklighter. If you ask this of me, the jalapeño juice will feel like ice water compared to what I will do to your insides.”
The director dropped his gaze to the folder. “Now that they’re twenty-one, all three have come into their full powers. If Mara kills her captor, her demon side will take over and she will turn evil. The Society has decided her fate. Your assignment is to mate her. Absorb her dark powers and diffuse them so she will not turn fully demon.”
Silence descended as the gremlin flicked off the television. “Did he say ‘mate’ or ‘date?’” Petra asked.
Lucien drew in a deep breath. Glasses on the coffee table rattled as he lost his composure. “Petra, go into the other room,” he told her.
When the gremlin left, Lucien spoke in a voice that could cut steel. “You wish me to seduce Mara and steal her demon powers.”
“Yes. It’s the only way we can ensure she’ll remain harmless.”
“I will not force her against her will.” Tension tightened his jaw to the point of pain.
“You’re a seducer, Lucien. Legions of women have crawled willingly into your bed. This will be no different. You and two other Ancients are the only ones capable of saving her. You’re the most powerful.”
“I have followed every assignment given to me since being inducted into the Society. But I will not do this.” Lucien said in a commanding voice.
“If you refuse, the Society will reactivate the bounty on Petra’s head. She won’t last a year.”
With a loud crack, the wineglasses shattered. His gaze went glacial. “I’ll rip apart anyone daring to hurt Petra.”
“You can try. But can you protect Petra against hundreds of bounty hunters?”
His cold heart pounded harder. “And if Mara kills before I mate her? She must die?”
Anderson nodded. “But there is capacity in her for good. We want to save her, not destroy her.”
They would destroy her if necessary. The Society’s edict was the destruction of evil.
“You have ten days. Our spies have indicated Mara and Jones are in the same city. We’ve sent two werewolf bounty hunters to watch her. If she even makes a move against Jones, they’re free to draw her blood.”
He hissed, showing his fangs. “Not if I draw theirs first.”
Blanching, the director gathered his briefcase. “You know the rules. They have diplomatic immunity from your fangs, Lucien. I’ll see myself out.”
As he heard the sound of the front door slamming, Lucien stared at the photo. His long fingers stroked over the luminous skin, the sweet curve of her mouth. “A Darklighter.”
With the silence of a vampire, Petra walked into the room. Her pointed ears flexed. “There hasn’t been one of those in years.”
“I know.” Lucien’s heart constricted. He counted backwards in Latin to regain his lost composure. “Go upstairs and pack our things. I’ll need your tracking ability.”
A small white lie. He wouldn’t leave Petra alone. Lucien’s stomach knotted at the thought of her torn to pieces by werewolf bounty hunters.
“I’m not going near a Darklighter. Have you seen one when they turn demonic? I hear they get all gray and nasty…”
“I have.”
Fresh pain lanced him like a hot knife. He could not bring himself to destroy another Darklighter. Yet he couldn’t risk Petra’s life, either.
Perhaps this Darklighter could be saved. Lucien glanced again at the photo, remembering the vision. Desire pumped hot and sweet through his veins as he envisioned her naked body pliant and soft beneath his. Fangs exploded in his mouth as he imagined taking her blood as he bound them together in the flesh.
“Why not just let her kill and have the Society destroy her?”
Practical Petra. Lucien glanced at the photo. With her sweet, heart-shaped face, thin cheeks and wide blue eyes, Mara looked so frighteningly vulnerable, unaware of the evil lurking inside her.
Just like another had 42 years ago.
“Because she can be turned,” he finally said, fighting the emotions cresting over him. “She deserves more than my last Darklighter assignment.”
“What’s that?”
“A chance.”