Prisoner of Temptation
Zandria Munson

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“Your desire for me is apparent. Tell me everything I wish to know, and I will reward you with a night of pleasure.”

Tatiana Patrescu’s people have been at war with the gargoyle clans for centuries. A powerful witch, she has prepared to fight them her whole life…until a mission goes awry and she is captured by the most dangerous gargoyle warrior of them all, Lucien Korzah.

Despite their feud, Tatiana feels an uncanny connection and attraction to Lucien—especially when daylight transforms him into a handsome human. And when Lucien unleashes his own brand of seduction on the innocent sorceress, she cannot resist their forbidden passion….

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 1

Romania, present day

Tatiana Patrescu slipped through the small hatch in the roof of the old factory. Dressed in a black leather catsuit, a leather mask and calf-high boots, she eased onto the metal catwalk that was suspended from the high ceiling. Scanning the shadows that darkened the room below, she advanced a few feet. The muffled sound of riotous shouting echoed from somewhere in the building, but no one could be seen.

Gargoyles, she thought with disdain. Her hands shook as she cocked the trigger of her semiautomatic handgun. She eased back a few paces and peered up into the hatch. “Let’s go.”

As graceful and quiet as the large cats that roamed

the hills of Bucharest, her squad of ten warriors descended through the narrow passage. They were called Uniil, an elite group of powerful warlocks and witches—the first line of defense for the Solomonarii kinship.

Her people had been at war with the gargoyle clans since the days of Vlad and now, hundreds of years later when most of Romania had blossomed into thriving and modern dwellings, the holocaust of animosity and thirst for power still raged undiminished. The entire region had been divided as the Solomonarii had been driven to the north, forced to abandon their lands as the gargoyles swept over the terrain. For the Solomonarii, this war was about regaining what was rightfully theirs and protecting their kind along the way.

This particular clan of rogue gargoyles had attacked one of the Solomonarii lairs and taken prisoners at their leisure. Tatiana had come to rescue her kin. This was her first major mission, her first chance to prove herself. For years her abilities had surpassed those of even the elder warlocks of her clan, yet she’d been denied any part in the grueling war. The lord of her clan, Demetrius Borimirov, had been patient in grooming her in the arts of combat, his sole intent to have her lead the Uniil. Demetrius had raised her from an infant. It was he whom she desired to please and thus, for this task, failure wasn’t an option.

With quick gestures Tatiana communicated with her squad: You three, that way. You four, this way and the rest of you, follow me.

Like spirits, the Uniil infiltrated the shadows, racing to do her bidding. Tatiana led the way and slipped into another narrow passage. Once through, she found herself on a catwalk that surrounded a large room. Torchlight filled the chamber and the walls vibrated with the intensity of the shouting below.

The winged and horned creatures were congregated about a raised stone platform as they lifted their voices in a chorus of anger. Upon the platform, their arms chained above them, were the four Solomonarii prisoners. After being assigned this mission six hours ago, Tatiana had left immediately, for she’d been told how the gargoyles disposed of their enemies. No mercy was shown and death was a long and painful procedure involving ritualistic torture.

The shouting persisted and Tatiana knew that they had to act quickly. She scanned the upper level of the room, finding and making eye contact with her Uniil. They were all in position, awaiting her command. She gave the signal. The battle was on.

Outnumbered at least four to one, the Uniil had two advantages—the element of surprise and their advanced weaponry. Whereas her kin opted to fight with guns, the gargoyles preferred the old ways. They were traditional, believing that a warrior’s true ability wasn’t measured by the number of bullets he fired but by the sureness of his sword and the accuracy of his arrows.

Tatiana and her Uniil sprang from the catwalk with guns blazing. The dark creatures took flight, swarming into an aerial assault. The Uniil were fast and their weapons lethal as they made their way toward the members of the Solomonarii.

Tatiana planted herself between her squad and the infuriated gargoyles as she pelted the air with bullets, dropping them like flies. Her final bullet found its mark within the chest of a female gargoyle, and then she tossed her gun aside. She leaped onto the platform with the members of her squad as they quickly released the prisoners, blasting through the chains with their guns. The gargoyles crept along the walls and ceiling, surrounding them.

Tatiana knew they had to make an exit, and fast. Fear flickered within her, but she quickly doused it. Everything she’d been taught had prepared her for this moment, the day she finally faced her enemies.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she drew in a breath, summoning the deep magic that swirled within her. Her lips began to move as a language long dead seeped out. A luminous cloud of vapor began to form at her ankles, pulsing as it swelled in both size and brilliance. The other Solomonarii fell back, knowing full well what was ahead.

Tatiana opened her eyes then, greeting her snarling audience with a stare of shimmering light. Many of them hung back, but there were those who didn’t fear the dark power of a witch.

A tall and powerful gargoyle adorned with a heavy breastplate emerged from the pack. His silver eyes flashed with an arrogant displeasure. Immediately Tatiana knew that he was the leader of the Drago clan. Demetrius had warned her of this scourge. Lucien Korzah he was named, a ruthless and ageless creature who breathed only to see the Solomonarii to extinction.

Their gazes locked, and in that instant her chanting faltered. There was something about him, in his stare, his movements, that was familiar to her, yet she knew that she’d never laid eyes on him before this moment. It was an odd recognition, one that seemed born not of simple acknowledgment but of a deep and lustful craving. She forced the thought from her mind and regained her composure as he advanced another few steps.

His eyes were trained on her even as he reached over his shoulder and drew the weapon strapped to his back. The crossbow, equipped with three arrows, was aimed at her heart as he took another step forward. This was it, she told herself, the confrontation she’d been both dreading and anticipating when she’d set out on this mission. Her time had come to prove herself.

In one fluid motion, Tatiana brought her arms out before her. As her hands formed the sacred symbol of her clan, she uttered the final word to complete the spell. A burst of energy exploded, surging forward in rippling waves of light that washed through the throng of gargoyles, sending many to the ground, but only slowing Lucien’s advance.

Rage contorted his face and he leaped into the air, avoiding the second wave of energy. His bow found its mark again and this time the arrows were released.

Tatiana sprang backward in a graceful flip, the arrows just missing her to strike the platform, splintering on impact. Lucien hovered above ground and for another instant their eyes locked. He hadn’t even been affected. She definitely hadn’t expected this—a creature who could successfully evade one of her most powerful spells. A ripple of fear cascaded down her spine as she watched him draw three more arrows from the quiver at his back.

Two of her Uniil raised their guns, but she stalled their efforts with a gesture. She wouldn’t have it said that she’d failed to even wound the beast. A few tricks still remained up her sleeve.

The other gargoyles were recovering and looking on in anticipation, likely waiting for their leader to spill the blood of the vile creatures who had dared to invade their lair. Deftly, Lucien slipped the arrows into place and aimed the crossbow as before.

Tatiana stood her ground, channeling every ounce of her ability. “Get down.” She gritted out the words as she tossed the members of her clan a look over her shoulder. This was going to be big—really big.

The ground beneath her began to smolder as if the gates of hell had opened, and a charred pentagram appeared around her. As the three arrows sprang from Lucien’s crossbow, she bent, slamming a fist into the concrete platform. It shattered and a towering geyser of flame shot through, engulfing her and incinerating the arrows before they found their mark.

The force from the volcanic eruption shattered the multiple glass windows near the ceiling and blew out one portion of a wall. Lucien and several members of his clan were thrust backward, smashing into the stacks of old crates that crowded the large room.

As the holocaust died, Tatiana stood slowly, black smoke rising from her otherwise undamaged attire. She turned to her squad and the Solomonarii prisoners. “Let’s go.” She raced toward the gaping hole, snatching up the gun of one of her fallen Uniil in the process.

Outside, the moon held court, lighting the way as they hastened toward the hole that had been cut in the barbed fence that surrounded the property. Tatiana held it open as each member of her team slipped through.

Behind them the gargoyles poured from the factory, smashing through shattered window frames and ripping through walls. Tatiana’s heart raced and her knees threatened to buckle. She was spent. Her abilities wouldn’t return for another few hours.

As the last member of her Uniil slipped through the fence, she crossed into the field of overgrown grass. Already her Uniil had revealed the sleek black motorcycles that they’d hidden there.

“Go! Go!” Tatiana ordered as she hurried to join them.

She pulled her motorcycle upright and grabbed the wrist of her second in command. “Ciprian, you have to lead them to safety. No matter what happens, you have to keep going.”

He nodded, his eyes reflecting understanding. Tatiana would do anything to protect her own. She would go to any lengths and risk anything—she was ready to die for them.

Lucien Korzah marched through the gaping hole in the wall of the old factory. He flexed the thick muscles of his neck and shoulders, snapping a vertebra back into place. A deep growl rumbled within his throat as he surveyed the scene playing out before him. The Solomonarii were fleeing on motorcycles, unloading their weapons at the members of his clan who skillfully pursued them.

He had had his fill of these wretched witches. For centuries the Solomonarii had plagued the land, preying upon humans as they’d spread destruction and cruelty in their quest for greater power and wealth. The gargoyle clans had allied to place a rein upon the vicious attacks. They were guardians by birthright and had thus been unable to simply lurk within the shadows while so many innocent had suffered. Their uprising had started a war that even to this day promised no end.

Lucien and his clan of seventy-five warriors were determined to bring it to a grinding conclusion. When most of the gargoyle clans fostered hope of restoring peace to the region, the Drago clan members were strictly mercenaries. They were a band of warriors, gathered over the centuries, who had but one mission—to bring the Solomonarii to extinction.

That wouldn’t be achieved by slaughtering them all, but by destroying the very core of the affliction. Demetrius Borimirov, the leader of the Solomonarii. He hungered for absolute power and would stop at nothing to obtain it. This Lucien had learned as a child as he’d watched the breath slip from his father’s body. And now, centuries later, Lucien would not rest until his father’s murderer suffered the same fate.

Great wings began to beat and Lucien leaped into the shrouding darkness of the night sky. With speed fueled by the animosity that raged within him, he headed purposefully toward the fleeing Solomonarii. The revving of motorcycle engines and rapid gunfire did nothing to soothe his demons. He would have his revenge.

Tatiana shot a desperate glance over her shoulder. At this rate they would never make it. The gargoyles were gaining on them too quickly. For the members of her clan, there was only one way out of this alive—something would have to be sacrificed.

She squeezed the brake on her engine, slowing to a moderate speed. As the distance between her and the members of her clan grew, the incensed roars of her enemies smothered the sound of the other motorcycles. Tatiana turned her semiautomatic handgun skyward and with an unfaltering precision began shooting at the gargoyles. They swooped about like great bats, stalking their prey, but many fell from the sky, wounded if not dead.

Far ahead the taillights of the other motorcycles disappeared within an old mine shaft that stretched for miles and exited a short distance from the border of the Solomonarii lair. With wingspans ranging from twelve to sixteen feet, the gargoyles could never pass into it. Her plan had worked. She’d given them enough time to escape. Her fingers eased off the brake and she began to accelerate. If she could make it to the tunnel herself, she would be safe.

Overhead the screeching of the gargoyles persisted as they swooped, their clawlike hands grabbing at her. She swerved, just barely avoiding injury. Only a quarter of a mile left and she would be within the securing darkness of the tunnel.

Then it happened, so fast that she didn’t have time to duck. A huge shadow appeared in her path, blotting out the moon. It swooped, heading toward her with a speed that was bound to cause a ruinous collision.

Tatiana swerved as she tried to avoid it, but her motorcycle collapsed to the side and she went skidding off the road. The fall down the short decline tossed her from the motorcycle, and she struck a thick oak that shrouded the area.

She groaned and tried to sit up, but she was too weak. She could hear the sounds of heavy beating against the air. It slowed, and a large figure, silhouetted by the still-beaming lights of her motorcycle, descended from the sky. She squinted as it approached, trying desperately to fight the sweet escape of unconsciousness that was creeping over her.

As the figure drew nearer, the distinguishing designs of a metal breastplate became apparent. It was the leader of the Drago clan himself. She knew she faced death, but she wasn’t ready to die, not like this. She mustered enough strength to inch away, but that was all she could do. Her time had come. At least she’d proven herself. Merciful darkness enveloped her.

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