Destined for Dreams: Book 2 (Dark Destiny Series) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  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

  Epilogue

  About Susan Illene

  Acknowledgments

  Table of Contents

  Title page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  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

  Epilogue

  About Susan Illene

  Acknowledgments

  Destined

  For Dreams

  Dark Destiny Series

  by Susan Illene

  Destined for Dreams

  Copyright © 2017 by Susan Illene

  All right reserved.

  This book, whole or in part, may not be copied, scanned, or reproduced by electronic or mechanical means (including photocopying or the implementation of any type of storage or retrieval system) without the express written permission of the author, except where permitted by law. Please do not participate or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials. Purchase only authorized editions.

  www.susanillene.com

  ISBN-10: 0-9863361-7-3

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9863361-7-1

  Model image obtained for the creation of this novel’s cover was licensed for use from Josh McCullock photography. Cover design by Victoria Miller.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events portrayed within its pages are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not meant to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead, undead, or mostly dead is purely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To my family, for all their love and support.

  Chapter 1

  Bartol

  When a man has too much time on his hands, and he’s trying his best not to think of a certain troublesome woman in his life, he must find some sort of distraction. Over the last few weeks, while avoiding the aforementioned woman, Bartol had turned to an old hobby—one that came from a time before electricity and modern machinery—back in the days when a man used his bare hands and simple tools for crafting his work. And if he did a reasonably good job, he might even make a little money for his efforts. Carpentry had been his trade off and on for many centuries whenever he had the spare time or needed a little extra cash.

  When Bartol had gotten the brilliant idea to start up his old hobby again, it had seemed simple enough. Build a table, some chairs, perhaps a desk—easy. Of course, he’d had to construct a workshop first since there was hardly enough space in his cabin, but that hadn’t been too difficult despite the cold Alaskan weather. And as a nephilim—half angel and half human—who’d lived more than eighteen-hundred years, Bartol had the strength of dozens of humans to speed up the process. It had kept him busy and helped keep Cori from his mind—the woman who’d become his bonded mate and then rejected him.

  Bartol sighed deeply and ran a brush over the chair, staining the wood a deep russet color. It would be beautiful when it was done, maybe his best work yet. Working his way over the high back, similar to the Victorian style, he recalled what had first driven him to learn such a trade. It was, ironically, to impress women. He didn't impress them now, most especially his mate, with his scars and reclusive behavior, but at least the work served a more important purpose.

  He’d discovered how much humans would pay for unique pieces, and he’d found someone in Fairbanks willing to sell the furniture for him to local customers as well as others across the country. The first piece he’d put on the market, a desk, had netted him over a thousand dollars. It was a start to rebuilding the fortune he’d lost while locked away in Purgatory for more than a century. If one must be confined as a prisoner for a long period, it was a bad idea to do it just before the economy went into shambles and a recession started. Most of his investments were lost, and he’d had no idea it was happening until it was too late.

  So now Bartol was starting over and taking whatever jobs he could. The archangels were paying him a fair wage for his assistance in training a young nerou crossbreed—Tormod—who had both angel and demon blood, as well as a little something else, but that job would run out in a few months. He needed to have something else in place before then.

  Plus, Bartol didn’t want to rely on the archangels any more than necessary, especially since they were the ones who’d confined him to Purgatory in the first place and caused him to lose nearly everything. They might regret the severity of their punishment now that they knew he wasn’t as guilty as they’d thought, but it didn’t undo the damage. Bartol had been tortured both physically and psychologically during that time and scarred for life. He would never be the same man again, which was likely why Cori had rejected him. She had to see he wasn’t worth her time or energy.

  A shuffling noise came from just outside the workshop. He’d almost missed it with the blowing wind hitting the walls and windows as yet another snow storm passed through. If not for a wood-burning stove nearby, it would have been freezing inside.

  Bartol stiffened and slowly turned on his stool. Only a few people knew about this private escape deep in the woods, and none of them were expected. Tormod had the day off to spend with his mother, no friends had mentioned dropping by for a visit, and Cori had yet to discover his shop since he’d constructed the building well out of sight from his cabin, and he hadn’t spoken to her since before it was built anyway.

  As the door slid open, a large, muscular figure appeared with snow swirling around him. His body blocked what little light was available on such a gloomy day as he entered the workshop. It took a moment for Bartol’s eyes to make out the chiseled features of his oldest rival and closest friend.

  “Caius,” he said, standing. “It’s been a long time.” More than two centuries, in fact.

  The older nephilim chuckled and moved forward to stand under the solitary light bulb hanging from the ceiling. “Too long.”

  “How did you find me?” Bartol hadn’t exactly advertised his current whereabouts to the supernatural world, considering all he wanted was solitude since returning to Earth.

  “Word travels, my friend, especially after what you did to get your
self thrown in Purgatory. People pay attention. You’re famous for pulling off that stunt and being allowed to live. When I found out you’d decided to settle in this frozen hell hole, I knew I had to come see you.”

  Of course. Having carnal relations with an angel tended to get everyone’s attention, and Bartol suspected he might never live it down. Could that be another reason why Cori had rejected him? Was his past too much for her to handle, in addition to all the psychological damage that made it difficult for him to stand anyone’s touch, including hers?

  “I didn’t expect to see you again. I thought you’d settled down for good with Willa.”

  For a long time, he and Caius had chased after women together, making sport of it. In those days, Bartol had been renowned as the most handsome immortal on the planet. His sculpted face had been compared to Greek Gods, his golden brown hair silky and soft enough that women couldn’t keep their hands off of it, and his body was a sight that could make the nearest females weep and fall to their knees in front of him. He’d enjoyed every moment of it, relishing the attention like a fool who had no idea how little such things mattered.

  The only male who had ever provided any real competition was Caius. He had chocolate skin, bulging muscles that gave the impression he could lift anything, a smooth, shiny head, and golden eyes that could penetrate the soul. The older nephilim came across him over a thousand years ago on an adventurous night in Rome. Bartol had just come from some battle or another in a distant land and was looking for a good time. Caius was already a renowned lover with centuries more experience and familiar with the local scene. He offered to show Bartol the city in exchange for a few fighting tips—a skill he’d been lacking in at the time.

  It had been a perfect match. For the first few decades, they’d fought bloody battles in whichever war interested them—sometimes with other supernatural friends joining in—and then finished with wild nights at the nearest city. Eventually, for reasons Bartol did not wish to think about or discuss, they’d switched entirely to carousing and stopped fighting altogether.

  This continued until two hundred years ago when Caius met a female vampire who grabbed his attention and wouldn’t let go. They fell in love and mated, using their fangs to mark each other and let all others know of their relationship status. In almost all cases, a mating was permanent and endured until one or both members died. Bartol had teased Caius unmercifully for falling so hard and fast with no way out, but he finally understood it now. He’d only hated to lose such a good friend and be left to his own devices. His life had gone downhill from there on out.

  Eventually, after making a poor decision his friend would have stopped if he’d been there, Bartol was sent to Purgatory where he was tortured for a hundred years by a sadistic guardian with little else to do. The left side of Bartol’s face had a permanent burn scar that appeared mottled and half-melted. There was no fixing it and no easy way to live with it, either. Whenever people looked at him these days, they gasped in horror. Lust never even entered their minds the way it would have before.

  Except for Cori—she’d been the first to see past the scars to the man behind them. If only she could have accepted his one demand that she become immortal so that they could live together forever. Bartol could not bear the thought of losing her to old age or a car crash or some sort of disease, but she could not understand that.

  Anguish entered Caius’ eyes. “Willa was killed earlier this year by vampire hunters.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, truly sad that such a good woman was gone, and his old friend was resigned to a life alone.

  The pain in Caius’ voice emphasized all that Bartol feared when it came to Cori. If Caius could lose his vampire mate, who had very few ways she could die, then a woman like Cori—who was mostly human—could be lost even more easily.

  “It was my fault for not protecting my mate better.” The other nephilim’s jaw hardened. “It was dangerous after we came out to the world, and I shouldn’t have let her go out to feed alone.”

  Bartol shook his head. “One thing I’ve learned is that a woman will only let you protect her so much before she starts to rebel. I’m certain you did what you could.”

  Caius narrowed his eyes. “Rumor has it you’ve mated. Is it true?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Where is she?” The older nephilim ran his gaze around the workshop, likely glad for the distraction from his own woes. “Surely you haven’t let her too far out of your sight this early in the relationship?”

  Bartol stiffened, unable to curb his protective instincts even though he knew Caius would never hurt his mate. “She is close enough. Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here?”

  “Zoe of Chalcis sent me.”

  That wasn’t good news at all. Bartol clutched the paint brush in his hand, on the verge of breaking the wooden handle. Zoe had a lot of nerve sending one of his oldest friends after what she’d done recently.

  “That woman is nothing but trouble,” he growled. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay as far away from her as possible.”

  Caius gave him an ironic look. “I wish that I could, but the message she has for you is too important to ignore.”

  “What message?” Bartol asked. Was it another ploy to interfere in his life?

  “Zoe wants to talk to you in person in Russia.”

  He ground his jaw. “If she thinks I will travel that far to hear her lies, she’s a fool. I’m content to stay right here in Alaska.”

  “She told me to tell you she’s not the only one who has obtained Gregorian Stones, and that someone far more dangerous than her has many more.”

  “You mean the power-leeching rocks that caused me to nearly lose my mate?” Bartol cursed. “I’ve never harmed Zoe in any way, and yet it was Cori who almost died because of that foolish woman’s plans. I’m not going within a thousand miles of her if I can help it.”

  “She claims she had no idea her messenger was going after a woman you had mated with and that she is sorry for what occurred. But what you saw last month was only a warning to get the attention of the supernatural community in Alaska because there is a far greater danger looming than her. Zoe is not the threat. Rather, it is someone much more powerful.”

  It sounded like lies to Bartol. “I don’t care. I want no part of her and her latest scheme.”

  “I would not be here if I thought she was lying.” Caius rubbed his smooth head. “There is truth to what she says.” His voice came out weary, as if he knew far more than he was saying.

  “Such as…”

  The older nephilim’s jaw hardened. “Just before I received a letter from Zoe asking me to come speak to her, the mystics in Athens were portending doom for us all. When I questioned them about it, they claimed some sort of demonic energy was on the rise.”

  “We have mystics here, and they’ve claimed no such thing,” Bartol argued.

  Caius frowned. “Perhaps they’re too far away to sense it yet.”

  “The mystics in Athens have always been overly dramatic. If demons are rising, the angels—or at least the sensors in the region—would know. They would say something.”

  “Would they?” Caius spoke with venom in his voice. “The sensors in Europe have been in hiding for centuries since the Supernatural War. They know many of us would kill them if they dared show their faces. Only a few have come out of hiding, and they use human hunters to do their dirty work.”

  Bartol had a feeling there was more to what Caius was saying, but he would not push the point for now. A sensor had the ability to detect any supernaturals, including demons, within a half-mile radius from them. They could also pick up magical spells and signatures at closer ranges. And while most of their kind were mortal and easily killed, they were immune to all forms of magic and could even nullify spells and curses, which made them formidable adversaries.

  It was easy to forget how different things were in Europe since some of the sensors in America were ac
tually working with supernaturals these days and others were coming out of the woodwork all the time—for better or worse. Cori’s closest friend, Melena, was a sensor, but she wanted peace among the races, not trouble. She was also mated to a powerful nephilim, which gave her a certain amount of standing within the community.

  Still, tensions ran high whenever the topic of the rare race came up. In the Supernatural War near the time of The Inquisition, sensors joined forces with the angels to rid the Earth of as many vampires, werewolves, witches, nephilim, and other “offending” races as possible. It was a terrible time of cleansing. No one had an official body count after it ended decades later, but some estimated more than ten thousand supernaturals died and much of the sensor population as well due to retaliation against them. The angels finally backed off and only stepped in if the trouble involved a nephilim. Bartol and his kind were subjected to higher standards because of the angelic blood running through their veins. They weren’t supposed to abuse their powers, but many of his kind did.

  “If you truly believe there is a demon behind this,” Bartol began, meeting his friend’s gaze, “then you should know better than to ask me. I cannot risk coming into contact with one ever again.” At least, not a full-blooded one.

  “You’d be the best man for this job, and you know it,” Caius said with a pointed look.

  Bartol stiffened. “Did you tell Zoe about what happened...before?”

  “Of course not!” The nephilim appeared offended. “I swore I’d never tell anyone, and in all these centuries I’ve kept that promise, but you know I’m right. If this demon turns out to be powerful…”

  Bartol took a step closer. “Do not even say it. I suggest you contact Lucas and Melena. They would be better equipped to handle this sort of thing and might even care enough to want to step in.”

  Caius shook his head. “It won’t work.”

  “Why?”

  “For one, Zoe won’t talk to anyone unless they bring her daughter with them. Lucas cannot leave Alaska to do that, as you know, and I doubt he’d let his sensor mate travel so far without him. For two, you were the one she wanted to come. She thinks you are the least likely to attack her and maybe even listen to what she says.”