A Door to Midnight Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  A Door to Midnight

  Blurb

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  Preview the next book

  Note from Renee George

  eBooks by Renee George

  Renee recommends…

  Excerpt

  At the end closest to the door, there was a single chair and an empty plate surrounded by an assortment of nuts, fresh sliced peaches, pears, red cherries, clusters of grapes, and a honeycomb dripping with sticky golden-amber goodness. Beyond that was a roasted rack of lamb, roasted potatoes, minted peas, and glazed carrots. At the other end of the table, a man sat cloaked in a shroud of darkness that only allowed her to catch glimpses of his suit jacket but nothing else.

  “Please sit,” he said, his tone pleasant with invitation, as though she was his guest. She knew her role was that of a companion, but she was a companion by bargain, not because they were friends.

  Wordlessly, she took her seat.

  “Does the food meet with your satisfaction, Ms. Henley?”

  His voice played along her skin like the dance of a flute. She shivered. “Does it really matter, Mr. Tsavaras?”

  He laughed softly, but the sound lacked humor. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

  She leaned a little to one side, shaking off the sensuality of his voice and hoping for a closer look at her mysterious boss. “What do you expect from me?”

  “Just what our terms implied.”

  She’d had it all in writing, but she needed to hear the confirmation from Marcus Tsavaras’s lips. “I am to merely keep you company for three months.”

  “Yes.”

  “I can see my father once a month for one day.”

  “On the full moon,” agreed her new employer. “You must return before sunrise or forfeit the contract. At the end of the ninety days, so long as every term in the contract has been honored, you will be released and your father’s debts will be cleared.”

  “No strings attached.”

  “None, Ms. Henley.” He leaned back, obscuring himself even more.

  “Okay.” She picked up a hazelnut, dabbed it to the honeycomb and popped it in her mouth. The honey nectar burst with rich sweetness, with hints of honeysuckle, oranges, and clover. She’d never tasted a better honey in her life. She hummed her pleasure.

  “I’m glad you approve,” Tsavaras said. “It’s a blend I cultivate from my own beehives.”

  Emily’s face warmed. Her mouth watered for another bite, but she kept her hands firmly on her lap. “The bees did a good job.” Ugh. Could she sound any less intelligent? “I mean, they, well, I guess you, managed to make a delicious honey.”

  “You were right the first time. They do all the work.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “I just coax them in the right direction.”

  Emily stared at the honeycomb. In a moment of pure honesty, she said, “I am trying very hard not to pick up the whole damn thing and just shove it in my mouth, wax and all.”

  Tsavaras laughed, and this time it contained genuine joy. She could feel it in the zipping tingle down her belly. Surprisingly, his laughter made her happy.

  A Door to Midnight

  Midnight Shifters, Book 3

  Renee George

  Published 2016 by Book Boutiques.

  ISBN: 978-1-944003-08-1

  Copyright © 2016, Renee George.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of Book Boutiques.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or events is wholly coincidental. The names, characters, dialogue, and events in this book are from the author’s imagination and should not to be construed as real.

  Manufactured in the USA.

  Email [email protected] with questions, or inquiries about Book Boutiques.

  Blurb

  In order to satisfy her irresponsible father’s vast gambling debts, Emily Henley agrees to be a live-in companion for the casino’s owner—the mysterious billionaire recluse Marcus Tsavaras. She soon learns why Marcus hides from the world: he is a two-headed beast of legend, a chimera. Emily is determined to erase her father’s debt, and not even Marcus’s monstrous appearance will frighten her away.

  For thousands of years, Marcus has lived under his father’s bitter curse and hallowed blessing, a duality that tortures him daily. Though he is the master of doors, able to open portals to any place at any time, he is also doomed to a singular existence without hope or love. Until he meets curvaceous and beautiful Emily, who may well be the one to chase away his shadows and open his heart to love.

  But in the beast’s world of magic and supernatural beings, there lurks a danger. One that threatens not only their love … but their very lives.

  Previously Published

  (2015) Taming the Monster Anthology.

  Dedication

  To my husband, Steve. Thank you for twenty-five amazing years of love and support.

  Acknowledgements

  I finished this book during my 25th wedding anniversary trip, a two-week whirlwind tour of England, Wales, Ireland, Northern Ireland, and Scotland. So, parts of the story were done in every country we visited, and it was finished on a bus between the cities of Edinburgh, Scotland and York, England. It was the trip of a lifetime, and I must thank my husband for allowing me to disappear to write while inspired. I think you’ll be able to see my second honeymoon’s influence in this story!

  I have to thank my BFF Michele Freeman for her diligent edits and content suggestions. Without her, I couldn’t do this (at least not nearly as well!). My love for you is limitless! And my BFF Dakota Cassidy, who is always there for a late night chat when I need to be talked down from the ledge (which happens way more often than is healthy). Thank you for always being there for me, darling. I love you the whole world!

  Also, my sister Robbin for never bullshitting me. She is not afraid to say that she doesn’t like a character or storyline and why. She is the best beta ever, and my real life partner in crime. I love you!

  For fans of the Midnight Shifters series, especially my Rebels, you are fabulous and make me want to keep writing more stories for this crazy world. I appreciate you more than you can know!

  I cannot forget to thank Book Boutiques. You came into my life at the perfect time and you are blowing up my world in such a great way. I’m so glad you are my partner in this adventure!

  Prologue

  Love can transpose to form and dignity.

  Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind.

  And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

  A Midsummer Night’s Dream—William Shakespeare

  The cry of the infant shook Othrus as he stared at the dead body of his lover. She hadn’t survived the birth, and he hated the yowling creature for killing the only woman he’d ever loved. He’d allowed Echidna to carry the child to term, his love for her skewing his judgment.

  He waited for the midwife to bring him the infant. When the tiny two-headed beast was put into his hands, he looked down at his son. The abomination was born from death. A murderer before he drew his first breath.

  Instead of taking a life for a life, he both blessed and cursed the child. The blessing was for Echidna, who had loved this babe from conception. The curse was for him because he would always despise this boy. “Y
ou, my son, shall be the keeper of doors. Of time. You shall live as both good and evil. And whichever side is nurtured will grow strong. Your existence will be lonely. If you find love, and the one who holds your heart leaves you, you shall die.”

  He handed the child to the midwife. “Take him,” he said. “Leave me to grieve in peace.”

  Chapter 1

  Emily Henley rubbed her arms to stem the rise of gooseflesh. The smell of lilacs in the summer heat took her back to her grandparents’ home in the Ozarks where she’d spent every summer after her mother died. The scent had nearly overwhelmed her as she’d dragged her two suitcases to the monstrous house three stories high and the width of her college’s gym. It looked more like an expansive mausoleum than a home. The bronze double doors before her stood at least twice her height if not more. Each side of the doors were inlaid with sculpted panels depicting scenes of grotesque figures reaching up in despair as they were swallowed by the ground. Their mouths wide, eyes pleading, Emily could almost hear their cries. At the top, where they all looked for mercy, hunched a two-headed beast. Its horrible maws open to show dangerously long teeth. Its eyes were cruel and hard.

  She stared at the creature, mesmerized by its sheer size. When she felt its gaze settle on her, a red spark flashing in its eyes, she stumbled back with a terrified shriek. She blinked, and the creature was once again a lifeless work of art.

  “Jesus.” Her quiet tone echoed off the door, amplifying the sound. The door was meant to scare visitors, she reminded herself. And it was really good at its job.

  Until three days ago, Emily had been a B student at Boonville Community College working on her associate’s degree in education. She had friends, no one she was particularly close to, but several who she enjoyed going out with to the bars in Columbia when the occasion arose. She tended to be a bit introverted, which meant she dated very infrequently. Her mother’s long illness and subsequent death had put her and her father’s life into a tailspin. While her restless father lost himself in his vices, Emily had rented a small apartment near the college campus. She’d been content with her mediocre life.

  When her father had lost their home, their life savings, and the small college fund created by her mother’s life insurance policy, she’d cut back on her classes and gotten a second job. Then her father accumulated another sixty-five thousand dollars of debt, giving her little choice but to accept Tsavaras’s bargain. Dad had once been a good man. She hoped somewhere deep inside he still had some decency left. After all, she’d signed away three months of her life in exchange for wiping clean his debt. Mr. Tsavaras claimed he wanted only her companionship, and he had reassured her that sex was not a component of their agreement.

  Honestly, she’d never heard of Marcus Tsavaras, and considering Tsavaras was powerful, and the area they lived in was small, she had to wonder why she hadn’t.

  Maybe because I’ve had my own shit to worry about.

  Her internet searches on Tsavaras were a bust. In fact, the web offered little information about the mysterious businessman—certainly nothing before the 1980s.

  Tsavaras was a casino owner in Missouri with boats in Kansas City, St. Louis, and her hometown of Boonville. He was a recluse in every sense of the word, never leaving his home, and never allowing his picture to be taken. His biography on his business website were two paragraphs and did not reveal when he was born, where he was born, or where he grew up.

  His palatial home sat on a thousand acres of land outside of Boonville, encapsulated by dense woods. Despite its spectacular size, the mansion could not be seen from the rural road that led to his property. She’d taken a taxi to his place, and even in the sunlight, the mile-long driveway, choked by tall oaks and silver maples clawing their way toward the darkening sky, had been intimidating.

  Emily gulped hard, steeling her nerve to knock on the massive doors. She had a feeling that once she entered Tsavaras’s domain, she might never see the light of day again.

  The knockers were large monster heads, one on each side, both at least a foot long and a foot wide. The one on the right had a peaceful expression, a calmness in the way its lips turned down, its eyes open wide, its eyebrows slightly angled up on the inside while the one of the left had a narrowed brow, squinted eyes, and a snarling curl to its upper lip. The animals both had large brass rings in their mouths, with brass orbs the size of baseballs attached to the bottom of the rings.

  Big brass balls. She would need to grow a pair to get through her months of servitude.

  “I’ve made a deal with the devil, and he will be given his due.” She grabbed the knocker on the left as if to dare it to bite. If she was going to be brave, she was going to go all the way. The heavy brass clanged, creating a booming sound that chilled her blood. For a second, her heart seemed to freeze mid-beat. Marcus Tsavaras was a man, she reminded herself. Just a man…with a lot of money, and apparently, an old-world belief in indentured servitude.

  The door didn’t make a sound, not even a creak or groan when it swung open. A man stood just inside with his face half-hidden by a shoulder-length cascade of dark chocolate curls. Emily stepped forward, her stride faltering when the light from fading sun caught his face. A white gnarly scar ran down the right side off his face and neck. It had twisted branches at the edges that appeared to be growing toward the unmarred skin on the left, threatening to overtake his entire appearance. Most startling were his eyes, the color of gold leaf. He had to be wearing contacts. Nobody was born with that eye color.

  He had to be more than six and a half feet tall. He wore loose pants and a tunic shirt, obscuring his form. Was it an effort to hide his body?

  “I’m Emily,” she said, her voice shaky.

  He smiled for a fleeting second, the unscarred side of his face looking almost youthful. “Welcome, Emily. I’m Ky.”

  “And I’m Zan,” she heard another man say from the darkness. He stepped from behind the right side of the door. His golden gaze, much like the man’s on the left, raked her from head to toe. His mouth quirked into a predatory grin. “You are quite lovely. This will be an interesting ninety days, don’t you agree?”

  He bore a cruel immortal beauty usually reserved for the likes of Dorian Gray and Dracula—high sculpted cheekbones, deep-set eyes framed by thick dark lashes that brushed his skin when he blinked, plump lips, narrow, but berry ripe, and like the scarred man, he had gold leaf eyes. His red T-shirt clung to him like a second skin showing every cut of muscle and bulk beneath. His waist tapered to narrowed hips where the practically painted on slacks fight tightly over his thickly muscled thighs and a bulge at his groin that could only be described as daunting.

  Emily licked her lips nervously. “Are you brothers?”

  “Of a kind,” Ky said.

  “Two sides of the same coin,” Zan added.

  What did that mean? She clutched the handles of her suitcase, more nervous than ever.

  “May I take your bags?” Emily noted Ky didn’t wait for her to answer as he stepped around to take the luggage. When he brushed against her, the fevered heat from his body invaded hers. Before she could take another step, Zan held up his hand. “Do you enter freely, Emily Henley, and pledge to serve Marcus Tsavaras for the term of three months from this day, no more, no less?

  “Yes.”

  “Do you agree to keep all you see within this household private and in strict confidence during and after your service with Mr. Tsavaras?”

  “Yes.” She’d already signed the scariest confidentiality agreement she’d ever seen when it had been messengered to her apartment.

  “Do you understand that if you choose to leave before the ninety days is over, or if you reveal any details about your service to Mr. Tsavaras, your contract is forfeited, and your father’s debt will resume with interest?”

  Jeez! Who would she tell? No one but Dad knew about her agreement with Tsavaras. For all his flaws, and since her mother’s death he’d exhibited many, she loved him more than any other soul on earth. H
e’d promised he would keep himself straight, and she hoped that was true. She didn’t know if she had the heart to get him out of any more jams.

  “Emily?”

  “I agree. Threatening me isn’t necessary. I’ll take your boss’s secrets to the grave.” She crossed her chest. “Hope to die.”

  Zan raised an eyebrow. “Good.” He made a flourishing gesture toward the interior. “You may enter.”

  Emily followed him inside. Ky shut the door and walked behind her. The foyer’s floor was white marble, which offered a sharp contrast to the redwood wainscoting and vulgar aubergine color of the walls. Gold sconces lit the way to the opened tall doors at the other end, and a sudden gorge of fear rose in Emily. She turned, crashing into Ky’s chest.

  His curls hid enough of his scars to make him almost handsome. “I’m sorry. Your contract has started.” She shrunk back at the intensity in his eyes. “Do you understand, Emily?”

  “Yes,” Emily said, swallowing hard. “I can’t leave.”

  She started walking again, trudging between the brothers like a death-row inmate being escorted to the electric chair. They continued into a large ballroom with cream-colored walls, hand-sanded hardwood floors, and elaborately carved semi-circular staircases that led to the second floor. Where the foyer had been dark, almost sinister, this room was warm and inviting. The giant crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling twinkled diamond bright. Even though she saw no other servants, she noticed everything was spotless, including the chandelier. Not a speck of dust marred the beauty.

  The walls were adorned with paintings reminiscent of Monet’s Water Lilies. It reminded her of when her mother took her to Nelson-Atkins Museum in Kansas City. They’d sat for hours in the Impressionist room staring at the beautiful paintings. Emily remembered her mom’s tears as she took her hand.

  When Emily had asked her mom what was wrong, she’d smiled.