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“It was just a dream, Autumn. It might be nothing.”
But her laughter filled him with pleasure. “The dream of a Sitheen is nothing to take lightly. You saw them, Kade. I’m sure of it. I’ll start researching as soon as I get home.”
Sharp intelligence gleamed in her eyes as the excitement visibly bubbled within her, pleasing him immensely. What he wouldn’t give to pull her into his arms and taste the happiness on her lips.
“You’re an amazing woman, Autumn McGinn. If anyone can find the stones, you will.” She wouldn’t find them, of course. Ustanis’s magical ability would lead him to the stones long before Autumn ever figured out where they were.
“Thank you.” Her gaze turned soft and shy as she smiled at him.
Every intent flew out of his head as the need to taste her became too great to fight.
And all he could think was that he was just about to say goodbye to the woman he’d been waiting for all his life.
PAMELA PALMER
Pamela Palmer admits to a passion for all things paranormal, fed by years of Star Trek, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Tolkien’s classic The Lord of the Rings. Though she grew up wanting to be an astronaut (until she realized the space shuttle wasn’t likely to get her beyond Earth’s orbit), she became an industrial engineer for a major computer maker before surrendering to the romantic, exciting, otherworldly stories that crowded her head, demanding to be told. Her writing has won numerous awards including a prestigious Golden Heart. Pamela lives in Virginia with her husband and two kids and would love to hear from readers through her Web site, www.pamelapalmer.net.
Dark Deceiver
Pamela Palmer
Dear Reader,
My deepest thanks for your wonderful response to The Dark Gate. Your letters have meant more to me than you can imagine. This book, Dark Deceiver, is the sequel, the second book in what is now THE ESRI series. At the end of The Dark Gate, the humans feared that more of the inhuman Esri would infiltrate our world.
They were right.
I’m smiling as I write this, rubbing my hands together with devilish glee. I love conflict. Not in my real life. Like anyone, I want my days and my relationships to run smoothly. No, the conflict I love is the kind I create and direct through my stories. I adore throwing strong characters into impossible situations with no clue how I’m going to get them out. Or how they’re going to get themselves out. As my characters and I plot and strategize, we often find that escape requires them to do something they never thought they would, or become someone they never thought they could. And in the process, they grow into the people they were meant to be—heroes and heroines capable of great love.
I hope you enjoy reading Dark Deceiver as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. When you’re through, I’d love to hear from you. You can reach me through my Web site, www.pamelapalmer.net, where you can also sign up for my newsletter and learn more about me, my books and the world and characters of THE ESRI series.
All the best,
Pamela Palmer
To my husband, Keith, for laughter, love and
endless support. You really are my inspiration.
More than you know.
Special thanks to Laurin Wittig, Anne Shaw Moran
and Elizabeth Holcomb for keeping me on track
and dropping everything to read for me when I
needed you. Thanks also to my brilliant agent,
Helen Breitwieser, and my wonderful editors, Ann
Leslie Tuttle and Charles Griemsman. Working with
you is a joy.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Prologue
The King’s Court, Esria
The monster of the court had arrived.
Kaderil the Dark strode into the noisy and jubilant hall, half carrying, half dragging the captive at his side, turning gaiety into chaos with a single glower. Sweat dampened his tunic and rolled between his shoulder blades as he strode beneath the floating candles that lit the open hall. Kaderil demanded fear and knew how to get it. Seven tall feet of hard muscle, skin the color of coarse sand and hair as black as the king’s stallion, his appearance alone was enough to strike terror into the breasts of the fair Esri. But it was the reputation for violence he’d carefully cultivated over the years that sent the court’s finest scurrying for cover and had him nodding with grim satisfaction.
Above his head, yards of silk floated between the high marble columns, ribbons of color against the russet glow of the night sky. He’d traveled hard for seven days to the Banished Lands and back to fetch his captive for the king. Though he longed for a cool bath and a soft bed, both would have to wait. There were greater things afoot this night.
As he crossed the hall, one of the brightly dressed Esri lords—a man whose height reached nearly to Kaderil’s chin—failed to clear his path quickly enough. Kaderil clamped his hand around the man’s stark white neck and, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed him into the fleeing crowd. Frightened squeals filled the air, punctuated by the snap of bones and yells of pain.
The cries died almost as soon as they began, for the only injuries the immortal Esri could not heal within seconds were the scuffs and rips to their jewel-colored tunics or sheer, glimmering gowns.
With a satisfied grunt, Kaderil dragged his hairless and quaking captive across the hall. Furtive looks, sharp with terror, speared him from every direction, filling him with calm satisfaction. Their fear protected his secret. They dared not challenge him and therefore had never discovered that the unknown human ancestor whose blood tainted his veins had cursed him with more than his barbaric human looks. He’d left him with little magic—the true power of the Esri.
Kaderil the Dark, the one most feared, was the weakest of them all.
As he approached the throne, which was surrounded by an arc of guards in silver tunics, King Rith beckoned impatiently. “Come, come, Punisher. Bring me the slave.” The king’s white face was long and lean, the ethereal look at odds with the ambition that shone with a chiseled edge from his eyes. He wore a cloak of pure gold and in his straw-blond curls, a shimmer of emerald beads.
But it was not his king Kaderil watched with careful measure, but Zander, the captain of the royal guard, the only one in all of Esria who had the gift of sensing power…and lack of power…in others. The only one who knew Kaderil’s secret.
Kaderil’s blue gaze clashed with Zander’s hated yellow, then broke away as he tossed