Doomsday Brethren: Seduce Me In Shadow Part 13

"What did you say?"

The violence of Bram's question took him aback. "EEmma?"

"You're certain?"

"I overheard a telephone conversation, but reasonably so, yes." The wizard didn't hesitate. "You have a new mission: Besides getting that book away from Sydney, make her tell you more about Emma. Immediately."

Bram's sudden command was somewhere between stunning and what-the-h.e.l.l?

"You don't have time to help me when you're throwing me to the wolves, but when I mention some woman-"

A loud chirp, a flap of wings, followed by a woman's panicked voice interrupted the beginnings of Caden's tirade. Some witch had compelled a bird to deliver a message to Bram. And from the sound of it, the message was urgent.

"I must go. I'll send you help to obtain the book since you're not female. But get all the information you can about Emma, then call me."

"d.a.m.n it, I'm not your errand boy." Caden shouted. "Who is Emma?"

"My mate. That's the first clue I've had of her since she disappeared. And I'm going to find that woman if it's the last b.l.o.o.d.y thing I do."

After the worst Tuesday ever, Sydney was more than happy to escape back to her flat. She shed her clothes as she headed back to her bedroom. She shed tears just as easily.

Dear Lord, her careless words had gotten Caden sacked. Granted, he had been eavesdropping, and suspicion that he'd been trying to scoop her still lingered. She'd tried to talk Holly into taking him back.

No luck. And Caden had likely a.s.sumed that she'd tattled to her editor because he'd hurt her by leaving her bed this morning. He'd think her spiteful and never want to see her again.

That possibility crushed her. She must find Caden, set matters straight. Already she missed him with a yearning she didn't understand. It was impossible to fall in love in a few days with a man who had begrudgingly shared himself. Blast, he had never even kissed her.

Even if the man wanted nothing more to do with her, she couldn't tolerate the thought that he might believe that she'd had him sacked in a scorned woman's act of vengeance. Under normal circ.u.mstances, she would ring him up and explain and apologize. But she had no means of getting in touch with Caden-no idea where he lived, no mobile number . . . nothing.

Sydney bit her lip. Well, except that magical diary.

Had the fact she had written in it previously brought Caden to her door? Or had it been mere coincidence?

She couldn't know for certain unless she experimented.

With a sigh, Sydney reached for her mobile and called Aquarius.

As soon as her friend and a.s.sistant picked up, Sydney blurted, "Did the book work for you?"

"Mellow, boss lady. Like I said at lunch, it works. From what you said, you discovered that yourself."

"Maybe it was coincidence."

Aquarius laughed. "Though I love magic, I was skeptical at first. I wrote about Alex a few times before I truly believed."

This morning, she'd felt wretched and unintentionally manipulative. Had she made a man who didn't truly want her come to her flat and have s.e.x with her? She still winced at the possibility.

"It seems like such a pathetic thing to do, write a fantasy so it will come true, regardless of what he wants."

"I understand being worried about bad karma."

That wasn't exactly her issue, but close enough. "But if I'm going to report about the book, I should test it again. Caden is the only man I fantasize about. I can't move forward with the story about the ident.i.ties of the bodies in the tunnel yet. I need to sh.o.r.e up a few facts. I didn't have the heart to ask your cousin any more questions after she broke down at lunch today. She looked so pale and tired. Is she all right?"

"As well as can be expected, but she won't talk anymore, Sydney. When she asked me if you were a journalist, I couldn't lie. She knows she's said too much, and when I admitted you'd written stories based on her information, she became terrified that Mathias will find her."

"I promise, I've never given details about her ident.i.ty."

"She says it's too risky for her, for magickind, and for you. Mathias is ruthless." d.a.m.n it! Sydney gripped the phone. She needed that source . . . yet the witch's fragile physical and mental state not only raised Sydney's pity, but concern. Aquarius's cousin was one shock away from a breakdown. Sydney would have to find another means of researching this magical war.

As soon as she made this week's deadline-and got in touch with Caden.

Sydney and Aquarius rang off. She sank onto the edge of her bed, unstacked the books on her desk, and lifted the one at the bottom. The little red one. She turned to the page where she'd written her previous fantasy about Caden making love to her.

Last night when she'd arrived home from work, the words had been on the page, mocking her for her stupidity in believing that magic would ever fall into her lap. Tonight, the page was blank. The words were gone. Disappeared. She peered at the spine, but no signs of a ripped page. No erasure marks. Just one perfect, pristine page after another.

What did that mean? That her fantasy had come true so the words had . . . vanished?

No. There must be some logical explanation. The pages were stuck together or she wasn't seeing the ink right in this light or, heaven forbid, Caden had found the page while he was here last night and carefully removed it.

Sydney bit her lip. Whatever was going on here, she wanted to talk to Caden, and hoped that he wanted her beyond what she'd written.

Before she could lose her nerve, Sydney grabbed a pen, then carefully crafted a "s.e.xual fantasy." That is, if a fantasy of Caden darkening her door to have an honest conversation with her counted as s.e.xual. She couldn't resist adding a line wishing that he'd make love to her if he genuinely desired and cared about her.

Sighing, Sydney put the pen down. Moments later, fresh ink appeared on the next page: Sleep, dream, antic.i.p.ate . . .

The fantasy you imagine will soon be your fate.

Twice now, the book had responded. Sydney shivered. Apparently something paranormal had happened to her . . . and might happen again. As she closed the book, her thoughts spun.

What if the diary was unable to make emotional fantasies come true? What if it didn't grant conversation, just s.e.xual wishes? She had asked for honesty, not pillow talk.

c.r.a.p! She'd written in pen, and couldn't erase the words. But honestly, she didn't want to. If it brought Caden here so they could talk-and she could apologize-she'd put the brakes on anything else until she was certain it was truly mutual.

The question was, how long would she have to wait before she saw him? And what would happen once she did?

After a basically sleepless night, Sydney trudged into the office the following morning, lugging her briefcase in one hand and her extra enormous coffee in the other. Wednesday. Technically, only one more day before her next story was due to copy editing. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, she hadn't even started it. She was waiting. On Caden. Would the magical book work?

"Morning, Syd!" Holly popped her head in her office, blond curls framing her face in a way many women paid hundreds of pounds to reproduce, her cupid's bow mouth painted an eye-catching red.

"Morning, Holly."

Sydney wanted to be angry at Holly for Caden's dismissal, but after her description of his eavesdropping, she understood Holly's position. Even if Caden had done it because he wanted to protect her, it looked fishy.

"You look like s.h.i.t. Sleep more. If you're losing some over Caden's sacking, problem solved. Meet Zain Denzell."

As if Caden could be replaced with any warm body . . .

In the doorway, Holly stepped back. A man edged forward, tall, lanky, and scruffy. He sported inky black hair, a goatee, a crooked nose, and an office-inappropriate T-shirt that said "Wanted: Meaningful Overnight Relationship." But the eyes . . . those were sharp, almost dissecting. Sydney had the immediate impression that Zain was used to people underestimating him, and he preferred it that way.

"h.e.l.lo." She walked around the desk and stuck out her hand.

Zain approached, something between a walk and a swagger, then took her hand. She had a brief impression of slightly damp palms. He didn't give off the demeanor of someone with large stature, but still hit her square in the chest, as if he was important somehow.

"Nice to meet you," he said with a nod, then backed away.

"Likewise."

Biting her lip, Sydney studied him. Not as easy on the eyes as the last one, but he'd be less distracting.

Zain's deference seemed a bit practiced, but she supposed anyone young trying to succeed in the news business learned to bow and sc.r.a.pe in a hurry.

Suddenly, he smiled. "Too awkward? Sorry. I'm a loner and not used to mingling with others, especially before noon."

"You're fine."

Holly clapped her hands. "Great, now that the introductions are over, why don't you and Zain spend thirty seconds forming a meaningful work bond, then start making me money?" With that cheerful demand, Holly left, shutting the door behind her. Sydney rolled her eyes, and Zain laughed.

"Is she always that . . ."

"Brash? Absolutely. If you hear people talk about Cruella, you know who they mean." Zain rubbed his hands together. "We still have a few moments; tell me about you." Sydney perched herself on the edge of her desk. "I'm a reporter with deadlines who doesn't have time for c.r.a.p. You may not believe my stories, but if so, I don't want to hear it."

"No. I believe. Especially the magical war story."

"That's right. You're the one Holly told me had pictures of the bodies in the tunnel. How did you get them?"

Zain hesitated. "I have a source who claims to be involved. That's why I wanted to work here. I think we can blow the doors off this story and make big names for ourselves." She stood up straight, her interest in Zain zooming. "A source involved in the magical war? And you don't think he or she is mental? Tell me more."

"Can't, really. He didn't meet with me. I got a note, you see, that basically said, 'be here at this time.' I was, and found the bodies just after the battle." Zain shrugged.

Odd. "Was this note delivered to your home?"

He winced, looking a bit sheepish. "It just . . . appeared in my flat." Like poof, as in magic? "Has it happened again?"

Nodding, Zain explained, "The last one said something big was coming and he'd let me know."

"Why you?" Sydney asked. "Why not someone already working on this story?" Zain lifted a shoulder. "I don't know. Maybe because I've always been interested in magic." Possible, but it sounded convenient. Sydney's guess was that Zain wanted this job, and had invented a reclusive source to get it. The pictures in the tunnel? For all Sydney knew, he could have Photoshopped them. Time would tell.

Repressing a smile, she sank back to the edge of the desk. "I'm working on a new angle about the battle in the tunnel. You know, where you took the pictures of the bodies? I'm having some difficulty. The last article I wrote-"

"Was rubbish," he blurted, then looked sheepish. "No disrespect intended. But you got it all wrong.

Mathias is the good guy in the magical world. He wants to end oppression." Sydney slanted him a considering stare. "I have a source, too, who claims Mathias repeatedly raped her.

He doesn't sound like a great bloke."

"Energy," Zain said. "Powerful emotions, commonly s.e.x, fuels their magic, or so I've been told. They must have it frequently. She may have called it rape to win sympathy, but these people s.h.a.g like mad to keep themselves charged up."

Talk about rubbish. First, Aquarius's cousin had an abused demeanor, not a satisfied one. She'd seen nothing to suggest the woman had engaged in mutually consensual s.e.x. The rest sounded like a tall tale. If it was true, why would his source have confided this sort of information, when it had nothing to do with the war?

"Interesting." She gave him a tight smile. "For my next story . . ." The words I'll just need a few pictures of this red book that grants s.e.xual fantasies stuck in her throat. He might wonder how she'd acquired such a thing. And if he was the sort who would lie about his inside information, maybe he would try to steal the book from her. After Caden's words of caution and everything that had befallen Aquarius's cousin, it made sense to be cautious.

He sat forward, attentive, focused on her. Now she knew how an animal at the zoo felt.

"I've got it under control," she said finally.

He frowned. "You don't need me this week?"

"My last photographer already took pictures," she lied. "But bring your snapshots of the bodies. I'll look at those for my next piece. This week, I've got another story. Oh, and if you can, ask your source why, if Mathias is the good sort, abducted foreign soldiers were found among the dead in that tunnel. And what does he make of the Doomsday Brethren?"

The afternoon both flew and dragged by. Sydney crafted a story about the magical diary. Googling turned up sites about Aleister Crowley, Harry Potter-even a supposedly magical cat. The book she possessed couldn't belong to any of these people. Finally, buried a few pages down, she found some scholar's works about a supposed magical diary dating back to King Arthur's time. She was no expert, but the markings on the book were too old to belong to Crowley, Potter was fictional, and as much as she loved the fantastical, the cat was beyond even her belief. The Arthurian angle fit best.

A grueling seven hours and a missed lunch later, Sydney submitted her story about the book. She hoped she'd gotten it right. If not, she had until tomorrow to retract it and invent another, in case Caden failed to appear.

She dug her keys from her handbag and unlocked the door to her flat, her mind on the story and Zain.

Had she done the right thing by submitting that story and not accepting Zain's help? Odd that the man hadn't seemed at all puzzled when she'd mentioned the Doomsday Brethren. Then again, maybe he'd been following her stories.

Deep in thought, she turned to shut the door. There Caden stood in the shadowed portico, looming large.

Sydney gasped, hand over her chest. He looked out of sorts, sweating, agitated. She might have wondered if he was taking drugs, but he hated losing control too much for that.

"You scared me." She lowered her hand and gestured to him. "Come in. Thank G.o.d, you came. I-I'm so sorry about Holly and-"

"I don't b.l.o.o.d.y care about the job." He took a step in, shed his coat, then shut the door behind him, his eyes boring into hers. "I couldn't stay away from you." CHAPTER EIGHT CADEN FISTED HIS HANDS at his sides, trying to keep them to himself. Sydney looked gorgeous and fiery in a short black skirt and a shiny, coppery blouse. The former clung lovingly to her hips; the latter provided a mouthwatering glimpse of cleavage. She'd swept her long hair back into some feminine knot that made his fingers itch to unravel it as he unraveled her. The remnants of reddish gloss stained her plump lips.

Without thinking, he found himself crossing the room to taste her lush mouth-and any other part of her she'd let him.

No! Down that path lay disaster. d.a.m.n it, he was here to end this mission, for Sydney's safety-and his own heart. He could not do something irresponsible. Already, this was going to hurt.

Blast Bram and his grand schemes. Caden had only agreed to this one because it would keep Sydney safe. But she would also hate him forever.

"We should talk."

She nodded and locked the door behind him, then headed for the kitchen, casting a nervous glance over her shoulder as she went. d.a.m.n. Caden wanted to be rational in her presence. A gentleman. But the urge to f.u.c.k her until she screamed his name, coupled with the gut-wrenching fear this was the last time he'd see her, made that impossible.

"Tea?" she asked.

"No," he scratched out.

"Something stronger?" She reached to the top of a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

Very dangerous. If he clouded his judgment with alcohol, no telling how little conversation and how much s.e.x they'd have. He owed her his best behavior.

He shook his head. "Sit down."

Sydney bit her lip, then crossed the room. She settled on the sofa, and he sat beside her, intentionally keeping s.p.a.ce between them. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, she smelled like peaches and jasmine and softness. He swallowed as need clawed at him. Everything about her called to him. It was sharper tonight, painful almost. His body shook. As hot as he felt, he would have sworn it was July during a swelter, not late November.

"Why are you here?" she whispered. "If it's to pick up where we left off-"