The Megiddo Mark, Part 1 (8 page)

“Really?” He’d not seen it in
Flights of Fancy
yesterday? “Megiddo?”

“Indeed. Yet the color you’ve added is brilliant. Makes it stand out. Rather a magnificent and unique marking.”

“I came across it in an old book.” She evaded his intense stare. “Should I know the location? Megiddo.”

“Maybe. Depends on how well you know your Scripture.”

“Me?” She laughed. “Not at all, unless it’s in Milton’s
Paradise Lost
.”

“Well, in that case, have you heard of Armageddon?”

“Yeah. Who hasn’t? Aren’t all apocalyptic science fiction movies based on the mythical Armageddon?”

He smiled. “Megiddo is the spot in the Christian Bible prophesized as the final battleground of Armageddon. And your mark is found on the floor of a Christian prayer hall that stands right in the middle of the valley.”

She listed to the right. “Whoa.” She reached out to steady herself by grabbing onto his arm. “The champagne must be going straight to my head.”

“You haven’t had that much.” He pulled the glass from her fingers, placing it on a small surface nearby. “Let me help you. Enough about the mark for now. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“That sounds promising.”

Then he kissed her again. First little kisses on her cheeks. “You have the most delectable freckles.” He kissed a trail to the tip of her nose. His strong hands framed her face, holding her with a gentle touch. His thumbs spread along her cheekbones. His fingers trailed down her jaw-line to her neck and collarbone. A hot caress edged the neckline of her dress, fire licked at her breasts where he stroked her, warm skin on skin.

“I want more,” she said, trying hard to marshal her thoughts into something that resembled coherent speech. “I’ve waited long enough. I want you. Now.” She pushed him hard. He lost his balance and tumbled onto the bench in the center of the car, she pounced on top of him, impatiently yanking at the tight lycra of the red dress to allow her the flexibility to straddle him.

Her bare feet hugged his denim-clad thighs. She sat astride him. He gripped the back of her thighs then brushed upward to caress her backside before his hand continued up to stop at her hips.

He clasped tight, moving her forward and back. Her breath caught in her throat. Pleasure flowed through her. She still wore her panties, but intoxicating pleasure washed over her as the course fabric rubbed her through the wet silk. It was too much. Friction built to a maddening height. She felt herself falling, falling.

“Damn. Not again. Not now.” A wave of dizziness welled, starting in the pit of her stomach, then moved up in a rush. Star
tled, she felt the same feeling as last night, while standing in her kitchen. When she’d touched the mark.

Next, a deep, dark, fathomless void overtook her.

***

“What the hell? Malena?” She’d just slumped onto him, a dead weight. Rolling her over, Cullen checked her pulse. Steady and strong. She was alive. He breathed a sigh of relief. Lifting her eyelids, he looked at her pupils. She’d just passed out. “Damn.” All his best laid plans had been shot to hell. Oh, well. Wasn’t much he could do about it now.

He waited for the observation pod to return to the attendant station, then, scooping her up, along with the forgotten shawl and purse, he stepped from the Ferris wheel car.

“She okay, Mr. Wade?” an attendant standing in front of the control room said.

“She’ll be fine. Too much champagne.”

“Ahh, gets the best of them.” The old man shrugged. “I called a taxi for you. It’s waiting at the curb.”

“Thanks, Watson. You’ll be paid handsomely for tonight. Be sure to thank the concierge for me again as well.”

“Have a good night.” He tipped his hat.

Cullen patted her cheek after he laid her on the cab seat. “Malena? Malena?” She remained out cold. Her face felt cool to his touch. He scooted in beside her and again lifted her into his arms. “Cavendish Square. Number eleven,” he said to the cabb
y. He couldn’t take her to the hospital. She loathed them.

The champagne must have tipped her over the edge.

He held her close. Her head lolled back on his arm, her silky hair tickled him. He sagged back on the seat inhaling her scent, a perfume he didn’t know, but found alluring. Violets mixed with tangy citrus. He held her tighter when the cabby made a sharp turn, careful she didn’t bump her head.

His only thought as he stood in the plaza waiting for her, what now seemed like eons ago, had been to seduce her into relinquishing the volume of poetry. But from the moment he’d seen her, he’d lost all thoughts of the book. They’d dropped from his mind like so much dross
.

The night had ended much
differently than he’d expected.

She’d bewitched him. Quick and sure. Like a fae creature.

When she’d laughed at him–at his honest admission about his disappointment that she didn’t want anything more than one night–he’d been truly wounded. He wanted more than tonight. But now she was out cold.

He regretted what he had to do. He’d drop her off at home. Tuck her into bed and leave her alone. Alone and minus her book.

She’d hate him tomorrow.

There would be no second chance with Malena Alexander. If he took the book tonight, she’d not share any further information about the Megiddo mark or whether she knew of any link to the
Vitae Lux
.

He rubbed the spot between his pecs. Looking down at the woman in his lap, he hugged her. He didn’t have a choice, did he? No. He needed that book if he wanted to know why his mother had died on a desolate Cornish coast with no hope, no will to live, even for a small boy who needed her. Him. No, he really had no choice. He needed answers. His mother’s diary was clear. Ava Alexander knew her secrets.

He called Sienna. The cell phone went straight to voicemail. She must be finishing her paper.

“Sienna, I need to know everything you’ve found on the location of the
Vitae Lux
. Also, if you could pull any info on the Megiddo excavation, I need more detail about the purpose of the mosaic patterns found on the floor of the prayer hall. Call you from Italy. Ciao.” He punched the disconnect button.

He kissed Malena on the forehead. Regret stole over him. He wished she’d given him the book before she’d passed out. He retrieved her purse from where it slouched on the cab floor.

He pulled the book of poetry from the bag and tucked it into the back of his pants between his shirt and the waistband of his jeans. He needed to take her home. Then he’d be on his way. Looking down at her in his arms, Cullen knew beyond any shadow of a doubt, that every justifiable action in a tribal war was considered fair game. So if he called the shots in this skirmish, then why did he feel like the first casualty?

***

OUT & COMING SOON by Mackenzie Lucas

December 2012 - To Have & To Hold: A Derkesthai Mage Novella

January 2013 – The Megiddo Mark: A Serialized Novel in Four Parts

February 2013 – Pompeii Reawakened

March 2013 – From This Day Forward: A Derkesthai Mage Novella

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
 

It takes a village to write a novel or a novella. So I raise my glass to my community and support network in a heartfelt salute to all you’ve done for me. Thank you to my critique partners at the R8, present and past, who read this manuscript—Yvonne, Keely, Lisa, Shellie, Christa, Marjanna, Michelle, and Mary. And my WRW online critique partners of yore, Emily and Alison. You are the best beta readers a writer could ever want. Keep writing, reading, and laughing! To my SHU WPF grad school critique partners, Diane and Nik, thanks for your diligence and commitment over the years. Your talent and dedication never cease to inspire me. A special thanks to Timons Esaias and Leslie Davis Guccione, SHU WPF mentors and advisors extraordinaire. I could never have gotten this far without your encouragment and attention to detail. And an extra special thank you to Mary Blayney for her generosity in reading this full manuscript and offering feedback. To my husband who has always been the champion of my dreams, thank you, honey. And, finally, to my boys, who goodnaturedly eat way too much frozen food for my liking because Mom is working in her office—you’ll never know what a support you’ve been. Thank you all. I couldn’t have done it without you.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mackenzie Lucas
graduated with her MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University and she earned a BA in Literature from Dickinson College too many moons ago to count. By day, she’s a part-time staff writer for a small woman-owned business in the D.C. area and by night, and at all other times, she eeks out time to write sexy contemporary paranormal romance novels and novellas where her heroines are just as likely to save their Alpha hero partners as themselves. In her perfect world, the girl always gets the guy and the couple always finds their happy ending . . . but only after they’ve faced down the big bad and kicked some serious villainy to the curb. She lives in suburban Maryland with her husband, three teenaged boys, and two adorable schnoodles.

Watch for new titles by Mackenzie Lucas coming in 2013. Visit her website at
[email protected]
in late January 2013 to find out more about Mackenzie and her work.