Treasured Find (Royal Pride Book 1) (30 page)

His vow to save mankind turns him into the father of the damned…

Wild Hunt, book 0.5

Arawn, Lord of the Underworld, is faced with the hardest decision of his long life. Because of his neglect, humans are suffering…but his vow to make things right could cost him everything he holds dear.

Minerva, the Goddess of Love, holds his heart and soul, but the act he must now commit might very well destroy their love.

His sacrifice doesn’t go far enough to end the humans’ agony. It compounds it—and turns him into a pawn. He cannot renege on his deal with the Triad, but he can avenge those he’s wronged.

To do that, he’ll need every one of his Huntsmen to win the greatest game of all time—the Wild Hunt.

Warning: Goodness and light vs. sacrifice and darkness. Seriously, what could possibly go wrong?

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Chapter One

Screams reverberated inside Arawn’s head. He knew the story behind each one, had shared in their agony and had experienced their deaths. All had been avenged. None would be forgotten. It was his gift and a reminder of why he oversaw the punishment of the corrupt. Or so the Triad had told him the day he was chosen as the Lord of the Underworld.

The day he was sacrificed.

Damned and forgotten.

Hands clenched, he strode across the balcony of his fortress. At the railing, he stopped and swept his gaze over his realm. The endless barren landscape offered little in the way of scenery or comfort. It wasn’t meant to give any.

The unfortunate beings who found themselves on the desolate plains stayed only long enough to be judged before moving to the lower sections of Hell, where they faced their eternal punishment. The nine shimmering portals dotting the horizon provided access to each level. He studied the barriers, looking for any additional signs of deterioration. All remained secured. He nodded, pleased that his efforts to mend them had found some measure of success. The horrors and inhabitants contained within the Underworld could not be released, not ever again.

The demon sentinels who guarded the gateways understood the dangers and the penalties if they failed in their role. Arawn had made sure of it, and those who obeyed his command were richly rewarded. Few offered him their allegiance, however. They were demons after all, and he was a god.

Revered, envied, feared and…

Blessed.

Arawn cracked his jaw. The knowledge that he was the Triad’s favored servant, the one chosen to act as its hand in the never-ending battle against evil, didn’t comfort him or make his endless existence worthwhile. Only one thing did… One person, actually.

Minerva.

Silver hair and eyes, the face an angel and the body of a succubus—she was beautiful. As a goddess of love, she would be. He craved her touch, savored her every kiss and found heaven each time he joined their bodies.

He closed his eyes and conjured her face, allowing the wonder she bestowed upon him to seize him. The screeches and moans echoing within him faded to murmurs. He sighed in relief. Peace filled him. Fleeting, yes. The second her image slipped from the forefront of his mind, the endless anguish he experienced would return.

He treasured the moment. It would have to last. What he planned would take his personal heaven from him, at least for a little while.

I have no other choice. My wrong must be righted.

The truth didn’t erase the sin he would soon commit, nor did it justify his past actions. It was all he had to give his mate, however.

It wasn’t enough. Nothing was.

On a weary exhale, he opened his eyes, letting Minerva’s image scatter, lost to his memory. The endless expanse of the Underworld greeted him. The shrieks and pleas of victims returned, ten times worse than they had gripped him before. Dots spread over his vision, and the pressure behind his eyes built. He breathed through the sensation until the dizziness passed. One more deep inhale, and he steadied himself, pushing back the weakness only Minerva knew about.

He turned his back on the domain he’d been tasked to oversee and made his way inside, each step slower than the last. Choices, past and present, weighed him down. They couldn’t be ignored, however. He’d picked his path, and the consequences of his decision were inescapable.

At his office, he straightened his spine, then flung the door open.

Lucas, the Demon King, stood with his hands clasped behind his back and his gaze on Minerva’s portrait. He glanced over his shoulder. His plain brown eyes held curiosity. “You summoned me?”

Arawn shut the door behind him. “I am leaving the Underworld, and I want you to maintain my rule while I’m gone.”

Lucas raised a brown brow, the only sign of his shock. “And how do you plan to pull off such a feat? You are tied to this realm, as I am.”

“Through my mate’s connection to the heavens.” She just didn’t know she’d be helping him yet.

“I see.” Lucas faced Minerva’s portrait. “She plans to leave the Underworld too? I thought she’d vowed to remain here under your”—he cleared his throat—“protection.”

Protection.
Arawn almost snorted at the demon’s word choice. None of the creatures in the Underworld would dare harm Minerva. No, it wasn’t protection Arawn offered her but relief. Within his realm of desolation, she thrived.

“She will remain here, and you will distract her from the unfortunate side effect of her position.”

“I am an incubus.” A leering grin spread over Lucas’s ordinary face. “The only comfort I can give is sex.”

Arawn didn’t bother responding to the demon’s taunting. For one, Arawn didn’t doubt his mate’s love or fidelity. More importantly, he knew what Lucas wanted above all else, and it had nothing to do with sex.

“Do so, and I will revoke my pardon. You and your
flock
will descend into the lowest pits of Hell.”

Lucas stepped forward, body tensed and hands balled into fists. “You need me to corral all the demon species. I am their king. You promised—”

“I promised nothing. Fear kept the lesser demons in check before you arrived. It will do so again if you lose your position. Do not forget why you were sentenced here.” Arawn motioned toward the body Lucas inhabited. “Or our deal.”

Lucas’s nostrils flared on his rough inhales. Finally, he cursed. “So be it.”

“Good.” Arawn nodded. “Until I return, then.”

He opened the door and stepped out, leaving Lucas behind in his temporary office.

“You plan to stop Dagda?”

The mention of his enemy sent a wave of anger through Arawn. Sharpened nails punched from the ends of his fingers. Fangs descended, and his jaw lengthened. He embraced the change, allowing the black, scaled beast feared by the humans to claim him. His massive wings unfolded. One flap, two, and he closed the distance between himself and the demon who focused on Arawn’s wings, envy darkening his eyes.

Arawn crouched and tipped up Lucas’s chin with a curled talon. “That name is not to be spoken. Dagda is dead.”

“The fairy king is not dead.” Lucas narrowed his eyes. “He is Dar now, leader of the Unseelie Court, and transformed into a being even the Triad cannot touch.”

Arawn leaned closer. “Diseased, not transformed.”

He shoved the other male. Lucas flew backward and hit the desk, knocking over the wooden table. Scrolls and tomes fell. A crystal decanter followed. The bottle smashed, spilling wine over the millennium-old works. Neither of them glanced at the ruined pieces. Their gazes remained locked.

“Diseased, yes.” Lucas pushed to his feet. “But be mindful of your words. Dagda is not dead, nor is he weak. He grows stronger every day, and soon he will make good on his promise.”

To unleash his Court upon the mortal realm. Only Arawn stood in Dagda’s way.

Arawn allowed his winged form to recede and met Lucas’s accusing glare. Arawn didn’t bother arguing. The demon was right. Instead, Arawn offered the other male the one thing that would guarantee he carried out Arawn’s order without question—hope.

“I will return soon. Maintain my realm, and I will revoke my hold over you. You will no longer need to fear punishment at my hand.”

Lucas sucked in a breath. “You vow it.”

A vise squeezed Arawn’s chest and a sense of foreboding settled over him, but he knew it could not be avoided. Lucas was the only male Arawn trusted enough not only to oversee the workings of the Underworld but to guard the destructive powers it contained.

Arawn nodded. “I vow it.”

“And my followers? Do you vow not to punish them?”

“No, demon.” Arawn laughed. “I do not.”

“But they are innocent. They—”

“They followed your lead. Stupidity landed them in Hell. I cannot take the chance their poor judgment will affect my holdings. Keep them in check, and they will continue to live freely in my world.”

Lucas lifted a lip, but no sound accompanied his enraged expression.

“Do you agree?” Arawn asked. There could be no misunderstandings. Too many lives depended on it.

“I agree to maintain your law as you have set forth, to comfort your mate as if she was my own, and to ensure the creatures you’ve restrained here do not slip through the damaged gateway to the human realm. Is that enough?”

Arawn gave a single dip of his chin, then pivoted on his heel and strode down the hall.

“What is your plan?”

Lucas’s question stopped Arawn’s steps. He glanced over his shoulder. “I will build an army capable of hunting the corrupted fairies in the mortal world.”

The same curiosity that had damned Lucas and landed him in Hell bled into his eyes. He tilted his head. “And how do plan to accomplish that feat?”

By sacrificing the one thing my beloved mate has yearned for.
“You need not concern yourself over my plans. It is between me and the Triad.”

Lucas grunted. “Then prepare to lose everything.”

Arawn turned and continued down the corridor without responding. He feared the demon was right.

And it’s my own fault. I chose love over duty.

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Elemental Desire, Book 1

A woman seeking answers…

Cat, a renowned scientist, embarks on a quest to uncover the source of the unknown deadly virus that claimed her sister’s life. What she finds is a man shrouded in mystery who manages the impossible—swaying her devotion from logic to passion. But Rune isn’t simply a lover. He’s a weapon, one that has the potential to save her or destroy her.

A man searching for treasure…

Rune, a child of the mist, awakens into a world hovering on the verge of destruction. Ragnarok is coming. His enemies have been released from their prison. And he’s discovered the one woman who can thaw his frozen heart. But the race to stop the final battle isn’t the time to fall in love. Or is it?

A discovery that will change everything…

Life evolves, and what was lost can be recovered. But the truth revealed isn’t the one Cat or Rune expects. The impossible has become reality. And two lovers must make a choice—adapt or die.

This book was previously released and has been reedited.

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Chapter One

Rune sucked in a sharp breath. The ice particles in the air seared his lungs. Pain radiated from his chest outward. His heart compressed once, then again. Another inhale brought a multitude of unknown scents. He ignored them and focused on the pungent odor that had brought him out of his death-sleep.

The
eldjötnar
, the fire demons, were free, and they’d begun to feed.

Rage pulsed through him, fueling the awakening. The children of the mist had been betrayed. By whom, he did not know. He would find out, however. Those who’d thought to unleash their enemies would die.

He cracked his eyelids. In increments, his eyesight returned. The sluggish beat of his heart gained strength. Tingles spread through his muscles. He forced his numb limbs to respond to his command to rise, but his body protested the movement. After a millennium of slumber, life did not return easily, even for an immortal being.

He pushed to his feet and swayed. The narrow alcove he’d chosen as his resting place stopped his collapse. He braced a hand against the rock wall. More breaths expanded his lungs and forced his blood to flow. Several minutes passed while he consciously directed the primitive functions of his body before it picked up the remembered rhythm.

He shrugged off the remaining weakness and put one foot in front of the other. He stumbled into the main chamber. Rays of diluted moonlight brightened the space. He squinted against the glare and picked out Jaron’s familiar shape at the mouth of the cave. Mist swirled around his crouched form.

Jaron turned at his approach. The flush to his skin ignited Rune’s hunger. His fangs descended, and saliva pooled in his mouth. He dragged his tongue across the sharp teeth, slicing it open, but the diluted blood did little to satisfy his craving. It only clenched his gut, the need for more a palpable desire.

He concentrated on Jaron’s silver eyes instead of the gnawing sensation squeezing his stomach. “How long have you been awake, my brother?”

“Long enough to coax a flock of
Eider
to share their blood with me.” Jaron extended his arm. “Come, take nourishment from me. We do not have time to draw a meal to you.”

“Yes, we must find the escaped
eldjötnar
and the foolish humans who freed them.”

“I’m not sure the humans were involved in the release of the demons.” Jaron jerked his chin in the direction of the opening he blocked. “Look.”

Rune closed the distance between them, glad his initial sluggishness had abated. Jaron shifted to the side, allowing Rune a view he’d never thought he’d see.

He dropped to his knees.

The endless expanse of ice and snow he’d known since the beginning of his existence no longer filled the valley of
Niflheim
. Mist still weaved its way along the ground and inched up the sides of their hidden mountain, but not to the extent it had.

He swept his gaze across the land and zeroed in on the spot where Surtr, the eldest of the
eldjötnar
, and his sons had been imprisoned in the icy tomb Rune had fashioned for them eons ago.

“Our world has melted.” And released their worst nightmare.

“Yes. Ragnarok is coming, earlier than we had planned.”

Rune flicked his gaze to Jaron’s face. “Impossible. The cycle is tied to the movement of the heavens.” He pointed to the moon and its lack of haze. “It is not time.”

“Do you have another explanation?”

Rune shook his head. “You know I do not, but I refuse to believe the rebirth has arrived. Neither do you. If you did, you’d be awakening the gods from their slumber, not be crouched here with me.”

Jaron inclined his head. “You were always the voice of reason.”

“Reason?” He chuckled. The dry bitter sound hurt his own ears. “I think you have me confused with Lyal. I’m the cold one, or have you forgotten my legacy?”

He was the only one who hadn’t grieved over the loss of their females. He’d chosen revenge instead.

Jaron extended his arm. “Feed. We waste time.”

Rune shook his head and settled his gaze on the rocky shore where once a mountain of ice had sat. In its place was an unfortunate victim’s bloated body. Birds picked at what remained of the human. Rune glanced away from the sight before memories choked him.

“I am not sure it matters. This did not happen overnight.” Which meant the
eldjötnar
had been free for some time. “Why did we not sense their awakening?”

“The ice has broken off in chunks and floated with the movement of the sea.” Jaron pointed toward where an iceberg floated several hundred feet from the shore.

Curses whipped through Rune’s head. “Then we have failed in our role again.”

“Whatever occurred to bring about this disaster had nothing to do with us.”

“Not this time.”

“No, not this time, but we must act quickly to prevent the demons from desecrating the neighboring villages the way they did ours.” Jaron dragged a fang over his wrist. “Now feed.”

The scent of blood hit Rune square in the chest. Instinct directed his movements. He snatched Jaron’s hand and brought it to his mouth, sinking his fangs into his flesh. Rich blood spilled over his tongue. The nourishment it provided infused him with life. He greedily swallowed the gift and did his best to ignore Jaron’s thoughts that came with the intimate sharing of blood. Rune couldn’t stop them, though. The tie to his sibling was too strong.

Flashes of images from their last failure filled his head. One moment he knelt with Jaron; the next Rune stood with his brethren at the base of their mountain home.

Roars of frustration and cries of disbelief reverberated between his ears. The slideshow started. Jaron kneeling in a river of black blood. His cousins racing through their homes looking for survivors. Friends slashing their wrists and desperately trying to save their females. He pushed those memories away and embraced the one that still enraged him—the bloated, diseased bodies of their chosen consorts. They’d been staked and left to line the path leading to Asgard.

Their greatest failure.

Until now.

Rune forced his fangs to retract and licked the wound closed. A steadying breath cleared the last of the unsettling memories from his mind. “We must find them.”

“And do what?” Jaron rested his head against the rock wall. “They will not fall for our trap a second time.”

Rune shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Don’t be a fool. I would anticipate another attempt. So will they. In the end, we are the same.”

“No.” Rune pushed to his feet. “We are nothing like them.”

“Honor separates us, nothing more. The day we think differently is the day we fail.” Jaron moved to the edge of the opening. White mist swirled around his ankles, ready to welcome him. “I will awaken the others and check on our treasure troves. You will begin the search for the escaped
eldjötnar
. Be safe, little brother.”

With the order delivered, Jaron hopped off the ledge into the open air. He took several steps over the shimmering surface provided by the fog before the wind scattered his image. He would travel along the currents, one with the air particles and the life-giving water they contained.

Rune waved his arm and redirected a current of air to carry him south. A waiting floor of mist rose to meet him. He strode forward, dropping several feet to where the wind whipped. It enveloped him, pulled at his skin and dragged the water droplets contained within him to the surface. He released the tight hold he held over his solid form and allowed the gust to carry him.

It felt good to be one with his element, but the comforting embrace it offered didn’t diminish the worry he’d awoken with.

Ragnarok might not have arrived, but evil had.

And we’ve slept through its release.
He only prayed they hadn’t awakened too late.

****

Cat Saunders scrolled through the data on her laptop. She’d studied the findings enough that she could probably repeat each detail if questioned. It didn’t stop her from reading it once more. She was missing something. Whether she’d made an error in her calculations or had misinterpreted them mattered little. The fact remained—the disease labeled as Upernavik 33 or UP-33 didn’t make sense.

It was classified as a contagious, fatal and fast-acting virus that affected the red blood cells of its host, yet it didn’t spread by any known methods. It was being selectively passed. Thirty-three victims had succumbed to the infection in the remote settlements surrounding Upernavik, Greenland, where they suspected the virus had originated. More cases had been reported along the coast of Canada, Iceland, Norway and Maine.

The virus was real. She had data, autopsy reports and samples. What she lacked was the support of her government. The Centers for Disease Control refused to recognize it. They’d investigated the deaths and claimed many of the reports coming out of Greenland had been falsified. They’d called it a genetic disorder and issued a report detailing their findings.

None of their official communications referenced her facts.

She clicked on the timeline. According to her statistics, a person was being infected every three days. Mapping those cases showed the pattern that had forced her to leave the safety of her lab. No matter how she looked at it, she couldn’t shake her initial take on the data. Two infected people were traveling and spreading UP-33.

She wanted to stop them. The last victim, her sister Janice, had made the disease personal.

“Miss Saunders, we’ll be arriving in fifteen minutes.”

She nodded but didn’t respond to the man’s words. He’d been trying to engage her in conversation for hours. The blatant flirting had stopped after she’d reamed him out. The constant chatter hadn’t. It annoyed her. In all honesty, though, she found most people annoying, especially when they disturbed her while she was working.

Silence reigned for several precious minutes. She used them to go over the details of the infection. The classic signs of anemia—lightheadedness, headache, irritability and pallor developed rapidly while the symptoms that labeled it as UP-33 showed within hours after the initial triggers. A red tint hazed the whites of the victim’s eyes, and a rash spread across either the wrist or neck. Muscle spasms and intense pain followed. Death claimed the victims after a seizure stopped their hearts. Upon autopsy, every organ was found shriveled, and the person’s blood had turned black.

It had freaked out all those who’d seen the aftermath of the virus, including her. If it evolved and became airborne, they would be dealing with a modern bubonic plague.

The helicopter landed, pulling her out of her thoughts. She yanked off the headset. She’d hated wearing the thing, but the pilot had insisted.

“Welcome to Upernavik.”

She dragged her attention from the small screen on her laptop to the town. Colorful A-frame homes dotted the stark, rocky landscape. Although it was dark, lights shone in every window.

“I suppose it’s daytime.”

“Yes.” The man laid a hand on her thigh. “Are you positive this is something you want to do? You don’t exactly look like the type of woman who is used to roughing it, and this can be a very, very dangerous place.”