Storm of Shadows Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title PageCopyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  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

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Praise for the Novels of Christina Dodd

  Into the Flame

  “This fourth book in the interesting and unique Darkness Chosen series is as alluring and intriguing as the others.”—Fresh Fiction “The climax of the Darkness Chosen series arrives with all of Dodd’s customary sizzling sensuality and dark emotions. A book by Dodd is always worth reading, but here’s hoping she ventures into the paranormal again.”—Romantic Times

  “[A]n explosive page-turner. This book truly does justice to the series for all of us who have been fans from the very first page of Scent of Darkness. . . . I would recommend this book to all readers of paranormal romances.”—Eye on Romance

  “Once again Christina Dodd weaves her spell . . . real and sexy . . . full of suspense and adventure. . . . It’s very rare I find a series that makes me want to keep it around on my shelves.”—Fallen Angel Reviews

  “Loyalty, love, and strength resonate on every page. Truly, this is the best of the series.”—Huntress Book Reviews

  “[E]njoyable and easy to get caught up in.”—Road to Romance

  “[A]ddictive. . . . We’re excited to finally have Firebird’s story.”

  —Rendezvous

  “[A] stunning tale of love, of sin and redemption, of exciting adventure.” —Romance Reviews Today

  Into the Shadow

  “[T]he action [is] brisk and immediate. Adrik’s story is as intense as that of his brothers, and Karen is a tough, worthy sparring partner. . . . The cliff-hanger ending is sure to whet appetites.”—Publishers Weekly

  “Ms. Dodd has once again created an amazing novel.”

  —Eye on Romance

  “Dodd builds believable characters which draw you in quickly.”

  —Road to Romance

  “Creating a character that is dangerous, violent, almost out of control and yet still redeemable is quite a trick—but Dodd pulls it off superbly. This is another stellar book from a most talented author!”

  —Romantic Times

  “[F]antastic. I was literally sitting on the edge of my seat . . . wonderfully conceived and executed. . . . Dodd conveys a tremendous sense of place . . . all in all a gorgeous book.”—Errant Dreams Reviews

  “Sexy and tormented, the men of the Darkness Chosen are darkly appealing.”—Rendezvous

  “[A] fantastic read with a mysterious, darkly seductive hero, an independent and admirable heroine, and a sexy, fast-paced plot.”

  —Romance Roundtable

  “[A] powerful book, sensual, even erotic, but also otherworldly and mystical. . . . I enthusiastically award a Perfect 10 to Christina Dodd’s Into the Shadow.”—Romance Reviews Today

  “The action is nonstop, the sex is primal, the race for survival compelling in its intensity . . . an emotionally powerful story.”

  —Romance Novel TV

  Thigh High

  “Making this damaged and obsessive hero likable despite his arrogance demonstrates Dodd’s wonderful gift for characterization. The offbeat characters and undeniable charm of New Orleans make this romp a joy to experience!”—Romantic Times (top pick, 4½ stars)

  “[C]harming and likable characters . . . make this an enjoyable read. . . . You get a real taste and feel for this wonderful city.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Christina Dodd is a master. She can quickly sketch a minor character to make him or her unforgettable. . . . She pours both humor and passion into the relationship between Nessa and Mac. . . . Thigh High is a winner I highly recommend.”—Romance Reviews Today

  “Dodd has penned another terrific story with a hero and heroine you’ll fall in love with and littered with wonderful secondary characters and enough fast-moving twists and turns and sizzling-hot sensuality to keep you turning pages until the final word.”

  —Romance Novel TV

  Touch of Darkness

  “A sweeping saga of good and evil, the series chronicles the adventures of four siblings who try to redeem their family from a pact an ancestor made with the devil a thousand years earlier. This latest promises to be one of her best to date.”—Library Journal “Enthralling, intense.”—The State (Columbia, SC)

  “Filled with action and adventure . . . a must read.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Christina Dodd demonstrates why she is such a popular writer, in any genre. The characters are boldly drawn, with action on all sides. Readers will be riveted until the final page.”—A Romance Review

  Scent of Darkness

  “The first in a devilishly clever, scintillatingly sexy new paranormal series by Christina Dodd.”—Chicago Tribune

  “[A] satisfying series kickoff . . . [a] fast-paced, well-written paranormal with a full, engaging mythology and a handful of memorable characters. ”—Publishers Weekly

  “Dodd kicks off her new Darkness Chosen series with a bang. A multilayered heroine and a sizzling-hot hero give readers plenty of emotional—and physical—action, and the relentless game of hunter and prey adds an adrenaline ride for good measure.”—Booklist

  “Multigenre genius Dodd dives headfirst into the paranormal realm with . . . a scintillating and superb novel!”

  —Romantic Times (top pick, 4½ stars)

  . . . and Her Other Novels

  “Dodd delivers a high-octane, blowout finale. . . . This romantic suspense novel is a delicious concoction that readers will be hard-pressed not to consume in one gulp.”—Publishers Weekly

  “Warm characterizations and caperlike plot make Dodd’s hot contemporary romance a delight, and the cliff-hanger ending will leave readers eager for the sequel.”—Booklist

  “Dodd adds humor, sizzling sensuality, and a cast of truly delightful secondary characters to produce a story that will not disappoint.”

  —Library Journal

  “Sexy and witty, daring and delightful.”

  —Teresa Medeiros, New York Times bestselling author of After Midnight

  Other Books by Christina Dodd

  Christina Dodd’s The Chosen Ones series

  Storm of Visions

  Storm of Shadows

  Christina Dodd’s Darkness Chosen series

  Scent of Darkness

  Touch of Darkness

  Into the Shadow

  Into the Flame

  Christina Dodd’s Romantic Suspense

  Trouble in High Heels

  Tongue in Chic

  Thigh High

  Danger in a Red Dress

  SIGNET

>   Published by New American Library, a division of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014, USA

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  Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

  80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, September 2009

  Copyright © Christina Dodd, 2009

  eISBN : 978-1-101-13611-9

  All rights reserved

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author ’s rights is appreciated.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  Happy anniversary, Scott.

  Lots of years, lots of memories,

  two kids, and true love.

  Thank God I found you.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to the wonderful team at NAL who have been so enthusiastic about this story—Kara Welsh, Lindsay Nouis (who I know does all the real work), the brilliant art department led by Anthony Ramondo, the publicity department with Craig Burke and Michele Langley, and of course, the spectacular Penguin sales department. A heartfelt thank-you to my editor, Kara Cesare, who contributes so much to my work with her discerning eye and tactful suggestions.

  Prologue

  Thirty-two years ago High in the Idaho Mountains

  As the sunrise tinged the sky, the Indian stood naked outside the Sacred Cave. He shivered in the frigid air, resisting the call to enter. It was not an honorable resistance; as the chief of his tribe, it was his duty to go to the gods when they called. But always he was afraid of the small, dark hole, of the hard, black rock, of the ancient paintings in the stone.

  His ragged all-weather coat lay at his feet, the tear in the green nylon mended with a wide strip of silver duct tape. He had flung his jeans, white with age, and his long johns, pink from a washing with his red flannel shirt, across a rock. His boots and socks were stacked below. He looked longingly at the clothes, the footwear, and the warmth they represented.

  Did the gods care about his old age? About his duties on the reservation? About the difficulties of coming up to this high, bleak spot when winter himself stalked the land?

  No. They cared only about themselves. He didn’t know much about them. The old traditions and stories had faded from their small tribe, but he knew one thing for sure; they were very human gods.

  So Bitter Eagle lay on his belly, groaning as the mountain’s cold bones stripped the warmth from his flesh. Arms outstretched, he worked his way into the tiny crack in the stone, pushing the leather bag before him and wishing he had grown too fat to cross the threshold, yet knowing that was impossible. The Bear Creek tribe was small and poor, easily dismissed by the US government and, some said, too proud for their own good. But they had learned early on that to depend on anyone besides themselves meant giving up their freedoms. So they lived in their small houses, hunted the lofty peaks of the Sawtooth Wilderness, raised gardens and children, and slowly faded from the modern world’s memory.

  Never had one of the Bear Creek tribe grown fat on life.

  As Bitter Eagle entered the womb of Mother Earth, he sniffed. Usually the cave smelled like molten rock and broken dreams.

  Now the air was smoky, with the bitter tang of blood.

  No wonder the gods had called him.

  Someone had violated their sanctuary.

  He knelt in the entrance. Sun leaked through the crack in the rock behind him, but at this time of the year, when the sun was low in the south, and this time of the day, at first light, it cast only a feeble illumination. It was the Sacred Cave itself that glowed with an unearthly light, a dim phosphorescence that seemed to seep from the living rocks. The ceiling above his head was low, but gradually it sloped up and back, extending so far that it ended in the home of darkness. Messages danced across the walls in drawings and words, some so faded with age as to be less than a thought, some as fresh and new as this morning’s sunrise.

  He didn’t know who had written them. Wise men, cruel witches, women who saw portents and men of power. He didn’t try to read them. Didn’t try to understand the cries of grief, didn’t dare repeat the spells of magic, didn’t want to fall under an enchantment that would lead him farther and farther into the cave until he stumbled on the bones of the others who had succumbed to the fascination and died, sacrifices to the gods.

  Instead, he looked for the cause of the smoke and blood.

  There. In a pit built where the floor took its first downward slant into the earth, the embers of a fire still glowed red. He crawled forward, his eyes darting back and forth, looking for the lifeless body he thought must be sprawled on the hard floor. For why else would he smell blood, except that some foolish soul had broken the law and entered the Sacred Cave . . . and there had lost his life?

  Yet he saw nothing. Whoever had come here was now gone, leaving no stain on the floor.

  Should he revive the fire, or extinguish it? Which would please the fickle gods?

  Standing, he walked to the pit and knelt beside the shallow depression in the rock. From his bag, he withdrew kindling and logs of dry, aromatic cedar, and laid them carefully on the embers. He leaned forward to blow on the infant flames, and from within the cave, a puff of wind performed the service for him.

  So. He had guessed right. The gods wished him to cleanse the air with his offerings. He fed the fire bit by bit, building the flames, waving his arms in great circles to spread the fragrant smoke throughout the massive cave. The scent of pine retreated, but the tang of blood grew stronger, strong enough to taste it on his tongue. He got to his feet and scanned the area, trying to locate the source, then picked up a flaming torch from the fire and followed his nose into the depths of the cave, farther than he had ever been before.

  The blood-soaked stench guided his footsteps, leading him on until at last he found it, a dark mass just over the edge of a two-foot drop.

  It took a moment for him to realize what it was—a human female ha
d given birth in this cave, and recently enough that the placenta was fresh.

  The gods would be displeased.

  His horror made him stumble backward, off another step and into the darkness.

  He landed awkwardly, going down on one knee, and dropped his torch. The branch rolled away and vanished over the edge. The little flame disappeared. Terrified he was going to follow it, plunge into the chasm and disappear into the black depths, Bitter Eagle put his hand out to catch himself. He touched something sticky, cool, and soft, and . . . the thing moved beneath his fingers.