Cloak of Deceit: An Alex Moore Novel (36 page)

God, I’m pathetic
.

I didn’t want to be that girl anymore, the one who threw caution to the wind when a guy showed her a little bit of attention, and ended up knocked flat on her ass. It was time for me to grow up, to ask for more — from others, and from myself. I wanted my forever with Julian, but I wanted it to be based on something real, not just desire or blood ties. And yet…I was helpless in his arms.

Julian’s lips hovered above mine. He held the back of my neck tighter and melded our bodies together, wrapping his other arm around me. Before I knew it, I was trapped. “I never want to be apart from you again. I won’t let you push me away. I won’t let you run.” He kissed one corner of my mouth. “You’re stuck with me.”

I shook my head and clasped his wrists as he angled my face back, tears threatening again. “I don’t want to be
stuck
with you.”

His brow furrowed and he searched my face. He must have finally found the truth there, because his eyes lit with disbelief. “Wait. You don’t know that I love you?”

“You never said—”

Julian’s laughter broke the tension in the room like a line snapping loose, leaving me dangling in bewilderment. He caught me and crushed me to his chest, speaking into my hair in a relieved rush. “I forget how young you are.”

He dragged me to the bed and sat me down on the edge. His expression held that endless tenderness, so opposite from his normal reserve. It was a look I imagined he kept just for me. “I’m sorry. I’ve never used those words much. I thought you knew. I thought it was obvious.”

I blinked. “Uh…nope.”

“Alex, of course I love you.” His smile quirked and he smoothed my hair. “What’s between us now goes far deeper than love. I just assumed you knew what it meant.”

Julian’s words were finally starting to sink in. They weighed me down. Not a burden, but a comfortable anchor — a place to settle. A home. I fell against him and tucked my head under his chin as the rest of my doubt ebbed away.

He loves me…

His chest rumbled against my ear when he spoke next. “If I had known you needed to hear it, I would have said it a long time ago. Do you uh…feel the same?”

I pulled away and met his questioning look with tears in my eyes. “Yes! I love you so much. I think I’ve loved you since you held me that first night, after the car accident. I just didn’t want to be wrong again.”

His sultry lips curled in pleasure, his deep brown gaze riveted to mine. “This could never be wrong. This is forever.”

I leaned into his hand and tilted my face up for a kiss.

His lips sealed over mine, and it was everything. Possession. Surrender. Eternal. And I finally let myself believe it, fall into it.

He draped me over his lap and massaged my neck with one hand, caressing my cheek with the other. “Now, were there any other reasons you had for leaving, Miss Moore?”

I surrendered completely to his touch and relaxed against him. “Not a single one that matters.”

So what if the Cloak and the Cabal hunted us, if the Grigori tried to convert me, if a war over my loyalties erupted around us? Julian loved me, and I loved him. He was the most dangerous man I’d ever known, and I felt safer in his arms than anywhere else. I’d only had to die —a couple of times— to end up where I belonged. We could figure the rest out.

We had forever.

Dear Reader

Thank you so much for reading
Cloak of Deceit
! I hope you enjoyed it. Alex's story will continue in a series of novellas beginning in 2016. For now, I invite you to delve into my contemporary fantasy world of reincarnating witches, half-demon shifters, and soul-sucking wraiths with my
Zyne Legacy
series. Turn the page for a
FREE PREVIEW
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My next book is out now! And look for the first in the Zyne Legacy Romance series,
To Tame a Wild Heart
, available September 21, 2015.

SKYDANCER BOOK 1: RAIN OF ASH PREVIEW

Available Now

An inherited secret.

An ancient rival.

A magical Legacy.

Briana Spurrier turned her back on her heritage as a reincarnating witch to chase her dreams of being a concert pianist. On the eve of her greatest success, a tragic accident calls her back to her smalltown island roots, and a spell cast in her grandmother’s dying moments opens her to Oracle powers she’s spent her whole life trying to blot out. An enemy of old has surfaced, hungry for vengeance…and her soul. Unprepared and untrained, Bri must harness the magic buried deep within her before it drives her mad, or the demon of her past will hunt down everyone she holds dear.

Which will break first…her heart or her mind?

Chapter One

Toulouse, France

1595

V
ivianne tipped her head back to welcome the rain. The sky’s gift revived her parched throat and washed away the days of caked blood and grime from her body, though it could not cleanse the stains from her soul. Water ran over her bruised shoulders and down her gouged arms, stinging where it met skin rubbed raw by rope bindings.

Thunder roiled, inciting a murmur of anticipation from the jostling crowd. Fat droplets spattered the brick platform, stirring a haze that distorted their eager, hateful faces.

She closed her eyes, longing for the peace that would soon come.

“
Brule la!
” someone shouted. Burn her.

Yes, she would burn. Fire was cleansing too. She had much to be cleansed of.

“
Madame Vivianne Regina Spurrier, Comtesse de la Feronique du Guard
,” the herald began. The crowd hushed. The air thickened with a thirst for carnage and their fear of what she symbolized.

Witchcraft.

She had committed heinous, malicious acts against members of the French court, attempted to wile influential men to her bed for personal gain, bargained with the devil, and forsaken their Lord God. She’d been branded heretic and whore and a diseased piece of flesh to be cut from the arm of society. As the oration of her sins rang out, loathing seeped from the crowd into the rain-bloated sky and made her stomach churn like the clouds above.

For certain, she was a witch, but she had done none of those things. Zyne were not supposed to get involved with mundane affairs. But when she’d foreseen the plague, she could not stand by and let hundreds, mayhap thousands, die needlessly. She’d used her powers to try and help them, yet they hated her. The Synod would not come to her aide. They were more concerned with her trespass against Zyne writ. She had thought they would intervene rather than let the rest of her coven suffer, but no. They would leave her to face the justice of her accusers. And she would carry the cost of all their lives into her next.

The herald continued. For her crimes against God and the crown of France, to which she had given full, documented confession…

She searched the dais for the man who had taken said confession. Father Dolores oversaw the proceedings with a look of cold detachment. Vivianne’s heart throbbed with fury as she stared into his eyes and glimpsed the shadow floating in their depths. She had tested her mettle against the darkness consuming him, while he had delighted in watching the breaking of her flesh and repeated violations of her body. Still, she had emerged the victor. Unclaimed. Unbroken. The strength of her bond to Lucas — the very thing that made her an outcast among her own people — had helped her to withstand the Dark One’s treachery and keep her family’s secret safe. She had broken many rules, but her vow to protect the Legacy still held fast.

For that, she would burn.

The executioner lumbered forward as the herald rolled his damp parchment and scurried away. Villagers she’d known half her life vied for position to cast stones and putrid fruit. She reached inside herself, searching for the strength to forgive them.

They have only one turn on the Wheel.

Their journey was harder — a single lifetime spent un-awakened to the filaments of energy underlying the mundane world. Her tie to the Conduit had unraveled at some point in the long dark of the past days, along with her will to keep fighting. Her magic had drained, as if her soul had already released its hold on this body. She was ready to let go.

Her coven — all eight of them — dangled from the wall of the keep. Her daughter was safely out of reach of persecution, but her unborn child had been expelled from her womb by the abuses of her captors. Her lover…

Tears sprang forth at the thought of Lucas. Would he find her again? Even for an immortal, eternity was a long time to promise. Because of their union, the Synod would hunt him. She knew he would grieve, and fight. But he was also free to live. To forget. Perhaps even to find another. Their magical bond would never end, but would his love endure lifetimes of searching…alone?

The priest uttered the final prayer for Vivianne’s soul to be accepted into the Lord’s Kingdom. She let her head sink to her chest. Her soul would not be in the hands of their One True God for judgment or redemption. She had many lives yet to live. Endless lives.

However many it takes to find my way back to you…

The executioner tossed a bucket of tar at her feet.

She bit her lip and focused inward, forcing her body to relax. Cries of “
Sorcière!
” and “
Putain!
” chorused off the high walls. Raindrops fell harder.

“
Brule la! Brule la!
” the people chanted in senseless fury.

Father Dolores smirked, the Dark One slithering over his face like the shadow of a passing cloud.

You will pay.

His last words echoed in her heart. Yes, she would pay.

Vivianne let out a slow, deep breath. The flames of the torch danced and sputtered as it neared. She gazed into them. This was the Fate she had chosen — the fire only a doorway. The pain would mark her passage into the next revolution of her journey.

The torch lowered.

A cloud of heavy black smoke choked the air from her lungs before she felt the heat. Flames licked her ankles, but she had no breath to cry out with. The scent of roasting flesh filled her nostrils. Searing pain surged through her veins. Her skin blistered. Her blood boiled.

Let me pass.

And then she felt nothing. She was ready. Another turn of the Wheel. Another chance to do things better. To pay the cost of the choices she had made in this life. She struggled against her bonds, but her flesh melted and fell away. Somewhere, there was a hoarse voice screaming.

Her vision narrowed to a pinprick. The last cry to escape her charred lips was softer than a whispered prayer…
Lucas
.

***

Sydney, Australia

Present Day

Briana shot awake and tossed off the covers. The sheets were drenched with sweat, and her nightgown clung to her skin, which had erupted in painful goose bumps. She ran her hands over her arms and legs, finding the skin smooth and unmarred. Her wrists tingled, but there were no marks on them.

Just a dream. It’s not real.

Her nightmares were usually just snapshots…blood, crying, pain. She hadn’t had a detailed one in years, and they were never so vivid. None of them had never clung so hard either, as if she’d brought a piece of it back to the waking world. She could still taste the smoke and singed flesh. Acid bathed her throat, and she stumbled to the bathroom. Not wanting to wake Eric, she closed the door before flicking on the light. Stars burst in her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt her way to the sink, trying to breathe past the burning itch in her chest. She half-expected to cough up a wad of tar as she gagged into the sink.

She fumbled through her drawer looking for her anxiety meds. She hadn’t needed them in weeks. Doctor Stevens had even dialed back her dosages. Valium still got her to sleep most nights, but she was actually starting to believe her nightmares were going away.

Her hands trembled as she tried to wrench the safety cap off the bottle. It popped open and exploded all over the counter. “Dammit!”

What had set her off? The extra wine at dinner? Or maybe the argument they had before bed? She’d been doing better since returning from her recital tour. With a handful of pills down the hatch, she gulped a glass of water and splashed her cheeks. Her reflection was harrowed, a wispy ghost of herself, with a halo of wild auburn curls. Like always, the sight brought another ghost to fore: her mother’s face locked in a silent scream. Hair drifting softly in dark water.