Chapter One

Present day - England

Anka MacTavish held her breath as the most beautiful man she’d ever seen stormed toward her, one heavy footstep after another. Lucan, her mate.

Former mate, she reminded herself. He hated her now, with good reason. She could have blamed a number of people for that. She mostly blamed herself.

His full mouth thinned into a grim line, blue eyes narrowing as he drew closer. At the sight of his obvious anger, she turned away toward the surprising warmth of the rare January sun, praying the golden rays would chase away the perpetual chill that had plagued her these last three months.

It almost worked. Then Lucan grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him, dragging her so close to the familiar heat of his body. Suddenly, she didn’t need the sun at all. Finally, she was warm. Their gazes connected, and heat seeped into her veins. Her heart lurched in her chest. A jolt of connection grabbed her all the way to her soul.

As quickly as he’d grabbed her, Lucan yanked his hand back. Sadly, the connection she felt was all one-sided now.

“Are you out of your mind?” he growled. “No. The answer is absolutely no.”

Anka let her lashes flutter down, breaking the pull of his furious stare, then forcing herself to step away from his beloved warmth. She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I suppose you heard that I intend to ask Bram to let me fight with the Doomsday Brethren.”

Admittedly, asking the leader of the warrior wizards dedicated to ridding magickind of the evil Mathias d’Arc to allow a witch to join their ranks had been a long shot. But damn it, she had a personal stake in this fight. Those males who followed Bram into this terrible magical war all sought peace, to make magickind safe again. Admirable. Once upon a time, she’d wanted that, too.

Now, the need for vengeance beat in her chest even stronger than her own heart. She wanted nothing more than revenge against the malicious wizard who had forced her to break her sacred bond with Lucan. Mathias had ravaged her body until she barely knew her own name, and in doing so, had destroyed her once-beautiful life.

“Yes.” Lucan leaned into her personal space, his glare intimidating, as he, no doubt, meant it to be. “He’d better not agree. It’s mad! I won’t have it.”

That familiar woodsy-musky scent of his hadn’t once failed to arouse her in the century they’d lived and loved together. It didn’t fail today, either.

Inching back, Anka sent Lucan a sad smile. Not for one second did she imagine that he refused her because he loved her enough to be concerned for her safety. Three months ago, before her world had shattered, yes. No mate had been more caring than Lucan. Today? She winced. He didn’t want to see her, much less fight beside her. Bloody hell, after Mathias had taken her captive, then plundered her mind and body, she’d eventually fled to her former suitor, Shock Denzell—Lucan’s enemy—for protection and succor. For that, her former mate hated her.

This was the most conversation they’d had in weeks, maybe even since Mathias had abducted her from the home she’d shared with Lucan.

Even thoughts of the harrowing days that had followed as the madman’s captive made her want to crumble. For a long time, she’d done nothing more than hide while fighting off one nightmare after another, and licking her wounds.

No more.

Shoving aside both regret and tears, she tossed her head back and met Lucan’s damning stare. “It’s no longer your decision.”

Instantly, his jaw clenched. His fingers plowed through his dark hair. Those blue eyes of his could look so tender. Now they glowed with fury and condemnation. “You’re right; it’s not. And as much as I hate Shock, I know him. There is no way he’ll allow you to fight with us.”

It’s none of his business, either. Anka kept the thought to herself. The last thing she wanted to discuss with her former mate was her current lover. At least, Shock was her lover when he was sober. Lately, that was never. More and more, Shock had begun grabbing a bottle and escaping into the bottom of it. Anka hadn’t tried to stop him.

Lucan wouldn’t care about her personal drama with Shock. The only thing that mattered to him was that she hadn’t returned home after escaping Mathias and his torture. In fact, Lucan probably thought she’d willfully betrayed him, doing her utmost to rub salt into his wound by running to Shock. Never mind that breaking the mate bond had obliterated her memories of Lucan for weeks afterward. Never mind that she’d been barely alive and instinctively sought a safe haven in case Mathias hunted her again. When she’d first reached Shock, she’d been dangerously low on life energy. And he’d been more than happy to share hot exchanges of frequent, raw sex with her to repower her magic and keep her alive—at least at first. Her former mate didn’t know or care that, for weeks now, Shock had only touched her enough for brief energy exchanges, or that, for the most part, Anka didn’t mind.

Lucan only cared that she had betrayed him. And as much as she wanted to rail, she understood completely. In his place, she would feel utterly stabbed in the heart. Still, she would tell Lucan right now that she still loved him and always would—if she thought for a second that there wasn’t too much water under the bridge between them or that he’d give a damn.

“Shock’s opinion on the matter shouldn’t concern you,” she returned softly. “I’ve offered to lend my wand to a fight that’s desperately outnumbered. The decision to accept or not is Bram’s. If you’re so against me joining, talk to him.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “The second Sabelle gave me the news, that went on my agenda.”

Anka pressed her lips together to hold in a curse. Of course, her old friend and Bram’s sister would spill the secret. Sabelle was worried about her and still believed that Lucan cared enough to stop Anka from putting herself in harm’s way. In a fashion, Sabelle’s attempt was sweet, if futile.

“Be my guest.” Anka gestured across the expanse of Bram’s winter-brown lawn, dormant roses swaying with the slight breeze. The Doomsday Brethren’s leader’s massive new house beckoned, carpenters and masons in the distance adding finishing touches to the structure built directly over the site of the original estate, which Mathias had recently destroyed. “You won’t stop me from trying to convince Bram that I can be an asset to your fight.”

Lucan scowled at her as if she’d lost her mind. “After what Mathias did to you? Why? You’re still healing.”

“I’m better,” she argued.

“That’s crap. You look tired. Are you going to lie and tell me you’re not having nightmares, Anka? I know you…”

He would always have an intimate knowledge of her, and one undeniable fact was that she often took the stress in her life and played it out in terrible detail in her dreams. Lucan could have no doubt that she was plagued by nightmares. Or that she avoided sleep because of them.

“I’m all right.”

“You’re not,” he growled. “It’s obvious. Why would you imagine that you’d be doing anything more than putting yourself—and the rest of us trying to save you—in more danger?”

It was a fair question, but she refused to back down. “I’m not the same woman I once was.”

Lucan clenched massive fists at his sides. “Clearly.”

He was trying to restrain his temper. Anka had seen this behavior more than once during their mating. She bit her lip to hold in a bittersweet smile. How much she missed his face and every one of those expressions she knew so well. If Bram refused to allow her to join the Doomsday Brethren, would she ever see them again?

Despair spread a heavy pain through her chest. It was unreasonable to assume that she would forget a century of happiness in mere months. Even tragedy and rape couldn’t obliterate love.

“I have to go.” Anka couldn’t bear to look at him again and wonder if this would be the last time.

But when she turned toward Bram’s home, she saw a familiar narrow-hipped giant sauntering her way. Shock. He wore black leather from top to bottom, like something out of a motorcycle gang—or a fetish club. A goatee framed his full mouth and square chin. Sunglasses covered his inscrutable eyes. She knew without question that he glared at Lucan.

Her former mate shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, clearly itching for any reason to punch Shock. “Why are you here?”

It was a fair question, given the fact that Shock, the Doomsday Brethren’s supposed double agent, had behaved like Mathais’s right hand more than once recently. Shock made a natural second to the evil wizard, as the Denzells had long been Mathias supporters. It was his role as an alleged informant and member of the Doomsday Brethren that everyone doubted. Despite living with him, even Anka didn’t know exactly where his allegiance lay. She’d tried not to think about her lover helping her rapist tear magickind apart, but ignoring that possibility was becoming more and more difficult.

The arch of Shock’s black brow popped above his dark-tinted glasses. “You think I need your permission to be here?”

Lucan hesitated. Anka hadn’t thought it possible, but his body grew more taut. “After you dragged Tynan away last week, took him to your boss, then dumped him when he was only suitable for a body bag, you have the devil’s audacity to show your face.”

“Could you read Tynan’s mind?”

No, but Shock could. And everyone knew that, upon returning to magickind months ago Mathias had murdered Auropha, the love of Tynan’s life. Since then, the wizard had had a death wish. Shock had done nothing more than help Mathias grant it.

The night of Tynan’s death, Shock sank farther than ever into a bottle. Given the depth of his black mood, Anka was surprised to see that he’d crawled out at all.

“You could have saved him,” Lucan growled. “And you didn’t.”

“You think Tynan would have thanked me if I had?”

Shock crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Lucan to concede. That was never going to happen. These two together had always been like oil and water. She’d cared for them both deeply. Now, as always, divided loyalties were tearing her up inside.

“I’m leaving.” She spun away from the two men.

“Where are you going?” Lucan demanded, grabbing her arm, his hold sizzling though her entire body, settling with a gentle ache right between her legs.

Shock took hold of the other in an equally tight grip. “Where have you been?”

They were both aggressive, demanding. She knew better than to jerk away. Either—or both—would do everything in his power to hold her until they got answers.

“I’m here to talk to Bram. Let go.” She glared at them both.

Lucan flinched, yanking his hand away with a curse. Satisfied, Shock slowly unwound his fingers from her wrist. Anka knew that if she turned her back on them, it wouldn’t be long before they began to argue—with their wands and their fists. Neither man was her responsibility any longer. By looking at Lucan’s magical signature, she could see that he was brimming with energy, and wondering who he’d been taking to his bed to generate it was killing her. If she stayed to ponder the question longer, she would only cry.

A few days ago, she’d left Shock. This was likely the first time he’d been sober enough to notice her absence. Something was eating at him, and he wouldn’t share it with her. She wanted to help him. God knew, she owed Shock. But she couldn’t live with him anymore. Though he gave her the protection and occasional energy she desperately needed, in every other way they were slowly killing one another.

Anka turned toward the house again, this time to see Bram striding toward them, grim purpose filling his sharp blue eyes. In a glance, he took in the scene. His tawny hair moved with the breeze, mussing the strands in a very uncharacteristic fashion. He was so focused, he didn’t notice or care.

“Shock?” The Doomsday Brethren’s leader stopped in front of the other wizard, his brow lifted as if to ask, Why the hell are you here?

Clearly, Shock wasn’t popular among the Doomsday Brethren. Then again, he never had been. No one trusted him. Anka only did because he’d kept her terrible secret for so long—just as she’d kept his. She’d always known that if one of them went down in flames, they’d likely be going together.

Smirking at Bram’s arrogance, Shock pretended he didn’t see the other wizard’s impatient expression. “Yes?”

“No bloody stupid games. I hear you’ve come to see me. Out with it, then. And this had better be about stopping Mathias and Morganna le Fay’s antics. That bitch especially has been so busy of late that everyone in England thinks the sky is going to fucking fall months before the Mayans supposed.”

A chunk of the chip on Shock’s shoulder seemed to fall away. His posture lost some starch. “That’s exactly why I’ve come. When Mathias resurrected Morganna in her tomb, he planned to meld her power to his and—”