Symphony of Light and Winter by Renea Mason Read Free Book Online Page A

an employee or patron. I had never seen that man before.
    Not having expected an encounter, I found myself exposed, without a plan or weapon of any kind. If the man couldn’t get the door open, he’d have to turn around, and I had nowhere to hide. I thought about yelling, scaring him, but what if he had a gun? This was by far the dumbest thing I had ever done.
    The pale man’s visage faded into the black surroundings as I was propelled backward at lightning speed. Something had me clutched in its grasp. At the same time a masculine hand reached around from behind and covered my mouth, stifling my scream. A large arm snaked across my chest, holding my arms in place while my back melded against the stranger.
    Hot breath and a deep whisper on my ear sent shivers through me, even though I was held against a hard, heated body. “Don’t you dare scream. I’m not going to hurt you, but if you do something stupid, I will punish you.”
    Cyril. If his voice hadn’t given him away, his scent would have. Electricity pulsed through me, even though given the circumstances, I should have been overridden by fear.
    The arm coiled around me released, and he moved from behind, steadying as he sat me on the ground. “Stay here and do not move. If you are ever going to listen to me, this is the time to do it.” He ducked down and stared into my eyes as if to say see, it’s me, don’t worry .
    He stood, and his attire caused my breath to hitch. His pants were black leather with laces in place of a zipper. The lacing drew my focus to his already attention-worthy anatomy. The black shirt fit tight over his well-defined chest, accented by the leather bandolier holding at least a dozen small knives. His black leather boots rested high on his calves.
    He turned to face the threat, his back to me, his body obstructing my view, his size daunting. The planes of his back and buttocks tautened with layer after layer of muscle, each one rippling as he walked toward the blond man.
    His silhouette outlined against the black night while he unsheathed a sword from a scabbard he had slung over his back. As he pulled forth the blade, it caught the light and gleamed at the pinnacle of the arch, then finally rested at his side, pointed toward the ground. He stood, turning his head from side to side.
    I had forgotten how out of his element he was in custom suits. This was what he was made for. The entire scene seemed surreal, like watching a movie unfold.
    His speech was accented. Slow and menacing, he called out to what seemed to be no one. “You are crossing a line you’d be wise not to.”
    The air stilled, my breathing the only sound. The other man started toward Cyril. He was not as large, but still a force to be reckoned with. I caught the gleam of the intruder’s sword.
    Cyril spoke again. “Nothing here concerns you.”
    “Really?” The man’s voice sounded familiar but oddly accented. It had a similar cadence to Cyril’s, but different somehow. “I think it concerns me plenty. I know what you are hiding and you have no right to hide her. What are you up to, Maker? You can’t keep her from us.”
    Maker?
    The man waved his free hand, and out of the darkness walked four other men with weapons drawn.
    Cyril widened his stance. “Is this what it must always come to? Your childish games are tiresome. Just leave and take your minions with you. You will never get what you came for.”
    I panicked. Who were they talking about? No way Cyril could defeat five men, especially given the size of their leader. Cyril might look like the baddest thing this side of hell, but I knew he had been taken out of commission at least once before. My life depended on his survival, and I didn’t like the odds. Thinking of my best strategic position, I crept toward the group. Watching him die again was not an option.
    What if he didn’t come back this time?
    A spiky-haired man assumed a battle stance. What happened next was the most horrible yet amazing thing I