Dark, Dangerous, Magical Men Who LIVE to Annihilate Evil
Blood
and Sorcery
Coven Enforcers, #2By Ann Gimpel
Dream Shadow Press
Release Date: 8/1/16
Historical paranormal romance with a
steampunk edge Amazon
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Coven Enforcers = Dark, Dangerous, Magical Men
Coven Witches bow to no one—least of all Enforcers.
Sparks ignite. Tempers run high. Passion explodes. Hot. Sweet. Impossible to ignore....
Coven Witches bow to no one—least of all Enforcers.
Sparks ignite. Tempers run high. Passion explodes. Hot. Sweet. Impossible to ignore....
Book Description:
Joshua committed his life to
fighting Black Magick. Not sure who he hates worse, dark sorcerers or the
clerics who tortured and mutilated his family, he lives on the road with his
horse and his magic, working as a Coven enforcer. Breana Giraud is the only
woman he’s ever loved, and until very recently she was married to someone else.
Breana’s husband, Don, sold his
soul to the devil, embracing dark practices. Along the way, he corrupted their
daughter. While Breana could’ve turned him in to Coven justice without a second
thought, she couldn’t bring herself to implicate her child. Still reeling from
her daughter’s death at the hands of evil, and grateful her husband met the
vicious end he deserved, she feels broken, damaged. The last thing on her mind
is falling in love.
Joshua tries to hold back, give
Breana room to mourn her losses, but if he has his way, she’ll become his wife.
With Don dead, and the path to his heart’s true love finally clear, he’ll do
anything he can to make her his. Even if it means fighting his way past the
dark mages’ leader, who wants her for his own.
Salt
Lake City, Utah Territory
Breana Giraud bolted upright in
her bed, the darkness around her shattering into fire-tinged motes of black.
Heart thudding hard against her chest, throat constricted with fear, she
reached for power, intent on shrouding herself in a protective spell. Goddamn
her husband. He was at it again. It was like him to wait until she was
sleeping—and she had to sleep sometime.
Once upon a time, she’d cared
about Don—a witch with power to match her own. But he’d been seduced by the
dark and become deeply entrenched in Black Magick. Shielding herself against
him drained her, but she didn’t have any choice. Sucking air around the narrow
place that used to be her throat, she sent magic spiraling outward. She didn’t
sense him near, but the enchantment that just dragged her from a sound sleep had
Don’s name—and sliminess—stamped all over it.
Her eyes snapped open. Don was
dead.
Dead.
What the hell was happening to
her?
He couldn’t harm her anymore,
so why was his stench all over the room? It wasn’t even the bedroom they’d
shared. She’d moved to the far end of the hall to escape the horrible memories
that swamped her every time she thought about him.
Guess
that didn’t work very well.
She pressed her tongue hard
against her teeth and reached for her magic again. Surely she could summon a
mage light. Simplest of spells, it required almost nothing in the way of power.
Finally, after she was shaking and sweating with effort, a wavery blue light
formed, casting the bedroom in eerie shadows. Breana urged her light to burn
hotter, brighter. Her teeth were chattering, and she felt as if she’d never be
warm again. Icy sweat dripped down her sides.
She tugged the heavy, wool
blanket around her shuddering form, but it didn’t help so she dragged air hard
into lungs that had nearly forgotten how to cooperate. And then did it again.
And again, until she was able to clamp her jaws in a harsh, desperate line.
Her light flickered and
brightened, and the ball of fear making it hard to breathe eased the slightest
bit. Falling back asleep was laughable, so she dug her way out from under the
covers and pulled a robe woven from soft, cream-colored wool over her linen
nightdress. Sheepskin slippers came next.
At least the godawful chill
that had permeated the air was dissipating, and the reek of evil along with it.
Brimstone held a sulfur taint that burned the back of her throat and made her
skin prickle with a million points of discomfort.
She blinked back tears as she
made her way downstairs, her mage light bouncing over one shoulder. The dark
had taken both her husband and her daughter, and robbed her of what had once
been a warm and comfortable marriage. She hated Black Magick with a passion.
Hated what it had almost done to her as she walked a tightrope between her
husband’s demands and her responsibility to the Coven.
“Yeah, and I did a shitty job
all the way round,” she muttered as she poured a cup of tepid coffee into a
mug. It was bitter as all get out from sitting on the back of the woodstove
since early the previous morning, but she gulped it down anyway, wanting the quick
stimulation.
Too keyed up to sit, she
wandered to a window and looked to the east. Dawn wasn’t far off, but the
horizon was still dark. Days were growing longer, but it was still winter, and
it might not get light until seven. She’d sent a meticulous letter to Coven
headquarters in New York. Within it, she detailed her sins in not turning her
husband and daughter over to Coven justice—once she fully understood their
allegiance had shifted to dark power.
That letter had certainly
arrived by now.
What would they do to her?
A snort of derision curled her
mouth into a bitter smile. She knew what she’d do to someone in her position.
Banish them from the Coven for starters. After that, it would be anyone’s
guess, but the Coven wouldn’t be out of line demanding her life as punishment
for shielding her family from what they deserved.
Not much she could do. About
any of it. No. She needed to keep going, day by day, and let the wheel spin as
it would. She’d find out soon enough. Certainly by this coming summer when
most—if not all—of the Coven had relocated to Utah Territory. At least she’d
given Luke and Abigail a good start by marrying them. Memories of that day—and
their joy—kept her going through the hardest spots.
She plodded back to the stove
and poured the last of the coffee into her cup before she opened the woodstove
door and sent a jot of magic to stir the embers. Once they crackled merrily,
she added chunks of wood and refilled the kettle on the back of the stove with
water from the pump next to the sink. The chores were automatic, and they
settled her nerves enough to dissect what had driven her awake.
Coven enforcers, a group of
hard-bodied, sharp-eyed men, who kept witches on the straight and narrow, had
seen to it that both Don and her daughter, Carolyn, met their end in mage fire,
purging their souls of darkness. And they’d killed Alistair MacDuff, head of
the Alchemical Council. She and Abigail had seen to the death of Alistair’s
henchman before he, too, was dumped in the purification of mage fire.
“Guess we didn’t get them all,”
she muttered as she ground coffee beans with a mortar and pestle.
“If them refers to who I think it does,” Joshua drawled from the
kitchen doorway, “of course they’re not all dead. That fresh coffee I smell?”
Breana curved her mouth into a
soft smile. “You know damn good and well it is. I drank the dregs from
yesterday morning. Hang on till the water boils, and I’ll brew a fresh pot.”
“Don’t rush. I got time.”
Joshua moved closer to the stove, extending his hands toward its warmth.
Tight-fitting, buff-colored leathers, similar to what most Coven enforcers
wore, hugged him like a second skin. Flame red hair hung loose to the middle of
his back.
Breana turned to face him
squarely and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Looks as if you got up in a
hurry. Your hair’s not braided.”
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