Brimstone Bride
Stranger, Seductress or His Salvation?One hundred years ago, Adam Turov, master of Nightingale Vineyards, bartered his soul for freedom from the Order of Samuel and their Rogue daemon allies. But he didn’t know true damnation until Victoria D’Arcy crossed the billionaire vintner’s threshold. . . Sworn to protect her, Adam must deny every fibre of his being to resist a voice that sounds like an angel and her potent charm.An unwilling pawn of the Order, Victoria must betray Adam to save her young son. Yet the more time she spends at his estate on her clandestine mission, the harder it becomes to deny the Brimstone heat scorching a path of desire between them…
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Stranger, Seductress or His Salvation?
One hundred years ago, Adam Turov, master of Nightingale Vineyards, bartered his soul for freedom from the Order of Samuel and their Rogue daemon allies. But he didnât know true damnation until Victoria DâArcy crossed the billionaire vintnerâs threshold... Sworn to protect her, Adam must resist with every fiber of his being a voice that sounds like an angel singing and her potent charm.
An unwilling pawn of the Order, Victoria must betray Adam to save her young son. Yet the more time she spends at his estate on her clandestine mission, the harder it becomes to deny the Brimstone heat scorching a path of desire between them...
âI heard you humming. I felt it,â Turov said. âIâve never felt anything like it before.â
He didnât touch her.
He didnât have to.
The heat in his blood did.
He was damned and the Brimstone that sealed his deal with daemons sang its own song to her music-starved ears.
âIt wonât happen again,â Victoria promised.
He looked into her eyes.
âI hope thatâs a lie,â he said.
His gaze dropped to her open lips, but he didnât close the distance. The heat between them flared. He seemed mesmerized. But then he straightened up and backed away before she made the fatal mistake of wanting his kiss enough to make it happen herself. His jaw hardened and the expression in his eyes cooled. She could still feel his Brimstone heat, but he was no longer controlled by it.
âGood night, Victoria.â His voice was rough. âI told you that youâd be safe here and I meant it. From every danger...â
BARBARA J. HANCOCK lives in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains where her daily walk takes her to the edge of the wilderness and back again. When Barbara isnât writing modern gothic romance that embraces the shadows with a unique blend of heat and heart, she can be found wrangling twin boys and spoiling her pets.
For those that champion the silenced
and love the lost.
Contents
Playground sounds made the danger beside Victoria so much worse. High-pitched laughter and conversations about make-believe seemed surreal. Across the mulched expanse, her sister, Katherine DâArcy Severne, pushed Victoriaâs toddler, Michael, and her own baby, Sam, on the swings. She glanced toward Victoria and waved. Vic waved back.
Pay no attention to the madman beside me, Kat. Keep my Michael and your Sam safe.
The monk sitting beside Victoria on the park bench was in a businessmanâs suit, as if heâd dropped by the Baton Rouge, Louisiana, playground during his lunch break. He crossed his legs gracefully like a civilized man. Kat probably thought he was a father watching his child play instead of an evil man come to threaten their own. Victoria had been resting in the sun when heâd approached. Sheâd actually smiled at him when heâd joined her on the bench.
And then heâd revealed his true purpose.
âThe Order of Samuel has proven time and time again that you cannot run. You cannot hide. You will learn this lesson or your child will join us. A half daemon brother would be unusual, but Iâm sure we could train him, put him to good use for Father Reynardâs cause.â
âStay. Away. From. Michael,â Victoria said. Her voice cracked with emotion. Her baby was only two. Katherine pushed her nephew higher and he squealed.
Victoriaâs throat had yet to recover from the injuries sheâd sustained in the opera house fire set by Father Reynard. Theyâd blamed it on an obsessive fan. Heâd been obsessive all right. But not a fan. He was a daemon hunter and she and Katherine had been his reluctant bloodhounds. Theyâd been born with an affinity for Brimstone blood that inevitably led them to the daemons Reynard hunted. Violence. Blood. Pain. No rest. No peace. He had dogged their steps for as long as they could walk.
Heâd died in the fire, but apparently his cause hadnât.
âI will leave your daemon spawn alone, only if you set my brethren free. This man is our greatest enemy. He must be stopped,â the monk in disguise said.
He held a magazine in his hands and tilted the cover so she could see the man who graced it.
Michaelâs laughter floated to her ears as his doting aunt pushed him on the swing. Victoria had fallen in love with a daemon. Her affinity for the Brimstone in his blood had drawn them together, but it had been more than that. Heâd been a stop to running. Heâd been hope. He had died trying to protect her and Michael. The Order of Samuel said they were warriors for heaven. They lied. The members of the DâArcy family were tools used by one faction of daemons to hunt another.
Politics.
