“Dammit!”

Ryder struck his thigh in frustration and looked once more at the jagged tear in his sleeve. He sat and watched helplessly as thick, dark blood oozed from the gash beneath the shreds of white silk. He’d already turned over his entire stock of healing potions in search of a remedy that could put an end to such wretched pain.

“Blasted weeds,” Ryder cursed under his breath as he brought a goblet to his lips and downed most of the cognac in it. After pursing his lips in disgust, he tossed the morticulata creeper he’d just insulted a sour gaze and saluted the plant with his goblet. “I ought to be feeding this poison to you.”

Expelled by its sharp and unforgiving thorns, the extract of the notorious morticulata possessed a rare and powerful toxin. Even the slightest cut wrought untamed agony to anyone unfortunate or foolish enough to tangle in its vines.

Today, Ryder was that fool. If his impatience hadn’t played such a pivotal role in extracting the toxin before the creeper had gone into hibernation, he’d have spared himself more than the agony. Unless he could endure a night of searing pain, it was going to take an antidote as valuable as morticulata creeper extract itself to heal him. Plants and all matter of living things with healing powers didn’t grow in abundance like they used to.

The Second Dark Era had entered its third decade. Its rein poisoned the minds of those who dared to conjure magic and created a divide between the sacred alliances that once came together to bring an end to the First.

With hearts tainted by greed and a thirst for power, a renaissance of black magic users turned against one another, all in search of the one who was prophesized to rule. After all the years that had passed since the first dawn of the new Dark Era, the mage the prophecy spoke of had still not emerged.

Ryder secretly hoped that anyone with such formidable power would never be discovered.

Knock, knock, knock.

He draped his cloak over his blood-stained shirt and rose to his feet. “Come in.”

The door creaked as it slowly swung open. Ryder looked down as a long, dark shadow moved across the stone floor. When he looked up, he nodded, welcoming the grand master to his quarters.

“All right there, Ryder?” Torrin asked as he stood looming over him, hands resting across his belly. “I didn’t see you at dinner.”

He kept his distance, hoping that Torrin would not see how exceedingly pale he’d become. “I wasn’t hungry,” he fibbed.

“That’s unfortunate. Your donor will not be pleased,” Torrin said just as the aggravated creeper wiggled its leaves.

Ryder swallowed hard after the creeper alerted the grand master that something peculiar was happening. Its vines coiled up tight within the lattice, and the leaves rattled. He thought for sure that the truth of his wellbeing was about to unfold in front of the grand master.

“Please accept my apologies. I’ll try not to let it happen again.”

“I hope you’ll consider joining us this evening for a nightcap,” Torrin said. “We have another new addition, and I believe introductions are in order.”

“Perhaps another time.” Ryder tried his best to stand tall. “I’m rather exhausted, and there is some important work I’d like to finish before calling it a night.”

“As you wish.” Torrin curved his lip to convey his dissatisfaction. He reached for the wiry, orange hair of his beard and twirled it around his finger. “Perhaps you should first allow me to have the nurse check in on you. You don’t look at all well.”

“That will not be necessary,” he assured, even as he felt what little color he had left drain from his face.

Torrin respectfully nodded and turned toward the door. “Very well, my friend. But I should warn you, if your work involves taunting that morticulata, you’d best keep your distance. The undead are particularly susceptible to a ghastly reaction from its toxin, and your creeper seems quite agitated already. The nurse has only a single dose of curatonum on hand, and it would be an awful shame to administer it so unnecessarily.” The grand master looked over his shoulder. There was a message of warning in those eyes.

Ryder needlessly held his breath until Torrin was almost out the door.

“Good night, Ryder.”

“Good night, sir.”

After collapsing into his leather wingchair, Ryder threw his cloak back and looked once more at what the crazed plant had done to him.

“Blast,” he muttered and rolled his eyes.

The grand master must have known. It was a senseless errand to try and deceive one of the most formidable sorcerers of the age, and he knew it.

As much as he preferred to concoct his own remedies, none of what he needed to start the brew was on hand. And even if he had all of the ingredients, it would take longer to brew the potion than it would for the wound to heal on its own. His only option was to go to the infirmary and somehow liberate the curatonum from the nurse’s stores. With his stealth and persuasion, it was never a difficult task getting what he wanted from Matilda.

The pain flared as Ryder scaled the many steps leading to the infirmary. At the top of the staircase, he could see a sliver of light shining through a tiny crack between the doors at the end of the corridor. He grunted and forced himself to take long strides the rest of the way.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside the infirmary. The chamber was well lit and felt much warmer than the rest of the fortress.

Uh oh.

There was no sign of Matilda.

On the far side of the infirmary, a lone nurse carried a pile of folded blankets to the cupboard. Her hair was long and dark, but her skin was a soft color that rivalled his pale shade.

She was exquisite—the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. It was as if the woman of his dreams had been pulled from his imagination and molded into flesh. She had divine flesh. Even from across the room, he could smell her delicious aroma. Every woman had one, but not one as appealing as this.

The gown she wore wasn’t traditional nurse’s attire, but a corset gown with long sleeves and a matching shawl. It was ivory, fitting and decorated with white lace across the bodice. He couldn’t help but notice her fine, shapely breasts—ones he’d like very much to sink his teeth into. In fact, there wasn’t an inch of her body he didn’t want to touch, taste and smell.

His cock twitched at the thought of fondling her breasts while he grazed his teeth along the soft flesh between her legs. He pressed his palm against his groin as if to tame it.

She was humming a soft, melodic tune. It must have been the draft that carried the sweet sound of her voice all the way to his ears, as he felt as if he were floating toward her. Her voice was angelic and so enchanting, he wondered if he had ever heard such a sweet sound before.

When he was near her, he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could even manage a whisper, she turned and greeted him with a majestic smile. It had been a long time since he last saw a smile quite like that. Amidst a Dark Era, there was very little to be cheerful for.

“Good evening,” she said.

For a moment he stood dumbfounded that a human could possess such a lovely voice. And then it occurred to him that she might not be human, just as he could no longer claim to be.

“I beg your pardon, miss,” he whispered after clearing his throat. “Are you the nurse watching over the infirmary?”

The young woman put the last of the blankets up into the cupboard. Her lips spread into another elegant smile and she offered him a subtle nod. “I am.”

The heels of her shoes clicked softly as she walked across the stone floor. When she stopped just an arm’s reach in front of him, Ryder was ensnared by her sweet, succulent aroma. As he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, he felt as if he’d been swept away to a distant island where the most exotic flowers grew in abundance.

When he opened his eyes, a locket resting upon her breast caught his attention. Its bejewelled crest sparkled in the flickering torchlight that kept the infirmary both warm and well lit.

As stunning as her locket was, he found the color of her eyes far more captivating. They were a beautiful, deep shade of blue. For a moment, he was so entranced by the magnificence of her vibrant, sapphire eyes that he’d forgotten why he came to the infirmary.

Years had passed since he’d last found himself at the mercy of a stranger’s beauty. Something about this nurse was fascinating, but equally peculiar. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew she was far more than just a beautiful stranger. The smooth look of her skin and the subtle hint of feminine curves hidden beneath her gown were tantalizing, but still, it was her eyes that he found most appealing.

“Your eyes,” he began, “seem so familiar, like I’ve seen them before.”

“I’m sure we haven’t met,” she said in her soft, melodic voice.

“No, I suppose not,” he agreed. “I’d remember you. Perhaps it was in a dream.”

A very salacious dream.

She seemed flattered as her full, pink lips spread gracefully into a smile. “My name is Angelica.”

“Of course it is.” There wasn’t another name in all the world that would have suited her better. “Angelica, I’m Ryder.”

As she took the hand he offered, the smile that still lingered on her lips vanished. She gasped and looked at the pale fingers he had wrapped around hers.

“Cold, I know,” he said and politely withdrew his hand.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t startle me,” he promised. “If anything, I fear that I may have startled you.”

Even if it wasn’t true, she bared a tiny grin and shook her head. “What can I do for you, Ryder?”