The Enemy's Kiss

  When two different worlds collide, sworn enemies must choose whether to kiss or kill in Zandria Munson’s explosive new romance…

  The curse he’d edured for centuries had finally been lifted. And although Nicholas Drakon no longer turned to stone at daybreak, his priority was still to protect his family. So when expert thief Daniela Ferreria stole an ancient Drakon artifact, he vowed to get back what belonged to his clan…and eliminate the threat.

  Upon capturing the intoxicating cat burglar, he discovered she was desperate to save her own sister’s life. The unexpected pull he felt for the lovely Daniela had Nicholas rethinking his next move. Family honor was at the core of his very being. But to turn his back on Daniela’s predicament could mean losing the heart he’d just rediscovered.

  “You are not alone in this, Daniela,” Nicholas said in a voice that was surprisingly very gentle.

  “I made an agreement with you and I will see it to its end. But you will have to trust me.”

  The ache in her heart was overwhelming. She could feel Nicholas’s arms moving about her and soon found herself encased within his warm embrace.

  Despite herself, she clung to him. In his arms there was a certain security she’d never experienced before. She felt safe and protected. And as she listened to his words of promise, she believed him.

  She nodded. “I’ll try.” Before she could stop herself, she looped her arms about his neck and closed the distance between them. She’d never needed anyone before, but right now she needed his warmth, his comfort, his protection.

  She needed him.

  Books by Zandria Munson

  Harlequin Nocturne

  *Heiress to a Curse #94

  ZANDRIA MUNSON

  was born and raised in the Bahamas on a beautiful island called New Providence. Her early education was enhanced by history and folklore lessons on pirates, mermaids, the Lost City of Atlantis and other fanciful topics. As a child she spent lazy summer days slipping in and out of her imagination. She started writing at thirteen.

  Zandria attended the College of the Bahamas, where she obtained her degree in nursing. Along with her passion for storytelling, she harbors a driving need to help others. She presently lives in Texas with her husband, Christopher, and kitties Munchkin and Chloe.

  THE ENEMY'S KISS

  ZANDRIA MUNSON

  Dear Reader,

  The Enemy’s Kiss is the continuation of a romantic saga that follows the Drakon clan. My passion for these dark guardians of the night—gargoyles—has compelled me to dig deeper into the complex and intoxicating lives of the Drakon brothers.

  Not too dissimilar from my first book for Nocturne that featured one of the Drakon brothers, Heiress to a Curse, I found my inspiration for this romance in dark and ancient places. Of late I have been visiting an old convent that is seemingly nestled away from civilization. With its lonely gardens and stone sculptures, it is the perfect location to allow one’s mind to wander far beyond mundane things.

  I also found that such a place would make an excellent backdrop for a scene in this novel, and thus incorporated a monastery into it. I trust you will find Nicholas and Daniela’s story as spellbinding as the first.

  Enjoy!

  For my adorable little mother, Martha.

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  BPA

  Prologue

  Romania, 1820

  Fire raged throughout the city of Cetatea. The flames rose to scorch the midnight sky and choke the stars with its thick and blackened smoke. Nicholas Drakon stood on the rise that overlooked the large and once prosperous city. Shame enveloped him as he absorbed the cries of the innocent that were subdued only by the victorious shrieks of his clansmen; those who had gone against the principles set forth by Nicholas’s father, Lord Victor, leader of the Drakon clan.

  Things hadn’t always been this way. There’d been a time of unity and peace, but that was long before they were all afflicted by the dreadful curse. The decades had passed and the rift within his clan had swelled, resulting in an outrageous battle of wills and the deaths of many innocents. Too long had these wayward members been allowed to proceed with mere warning and chastisement. The time had come to put an end to it.

  Nicholas flexed his grip on the large sword he held. Over his shoulder he cast the thirteen warriors he led a look that warned them to be prepared. With the forms of hulking men and the faces of beasts, they were ready for the inevitable battle that lay ahead, dressed in heavy, intricately worked silver breastplates and bracers of matching quality encasing their wrists. They were slaves and lords of the darkness. Stone by day and gargoyle by night, they’d once been men, but were now damned for eternity.

  At his back, Nicholas flexed great and taloned wings, ready for flight. From the hilltop adjacent to the one upon which he stood, his brothers Simion and Marius observed the holocaust. Simion raised a torch, signaling the commencement of the attack. Steel in his grip, Nicholas and his warriors took to the skies. Their mission was to capture as many of their own alive, but much blood would be spilled this night, he knew. His heart ached for the many who would fall dead by his hands, but this was no time for weakness. What had to be done must be done.

  Fagara Castle, later

  The vicious cries could be felt throughout the castle. They shook the walls and coursed through the stone floors. Nicholas, along with his father and brothers marched down the steps that lead to the dungeon entrance.

  Chained to the walls were the remaining twelve defectors. Among them was the one called Gabriel. Once a man of honor and integrity, he’d become consumed by rage as the Drakon clan had been forced to abandon much of their lands and holdings. They’d been driven deeper into the forest to avoid being hunted by those who deemed their kind an abomination. His fury had swelled even more as Lord Victor had simply accepted this fate, choosing peace over violence. Gabriel had thus formed his own alliance with the intent to destroy any who threatened their family. He’d in turn become the greatest opposition of the Drakon clan; what was worse, he was the younger brother of Lord Victor.

  Lord Victor moved to face his brother. With his massive wings beating against the damp air, Gabriel fought against the chains that bound him. But it was to no avail, for the chains, made from an alloy called titanium, had been purposefully fashioned for this function.

  “Ah, brother,” Gabriel said with a venomous sneer. “I suspect you are pleased with yourself for slaughtering so many of your own.”

  Lord Victor’s head fell a measure. “About as pleased as I am for what I am forced to do this night. I can no longer stand by and allow you to wreak havoc.”

  Gabriel erupted in a loud, derisive laugh. “You speak as if I am at fault. Nay, brother. It is you who brought this curse upon us all.” He sobered, his eyes hard as he continued. “You and your lust for peasant flesh.”

  Nicholas’s eyes narrowed upon his uncle as he steeled himself to remain as he was. It was no secret that the gargoyle curse had been brewed in a single
night of lies and deception. Their mother had been a simple peasant girl when she’d captured Lord Victor’s heart, driving him to abandon a senseless betrothal. In a fit of rage, his wealthy and greedy intended bride, Lady Vivian, had spun a web of lies to her cousin Necesar, a powerful sorceress. Vivian had pleaded for vengeance, but even that hadn’t been enough to remedy her discontent. Anger had compelled her to a point of insanity, and in one final act of rage she’d torched her family’s castle, taking not only her own life but those of all who dwelled there.

  And so, armed with the notion that Lord Victor had not only severed the betrothal after forcing himself on her cousin, but that he was also the one to be blamed for Vivian’s death, Necesar concocted a fierce spell, cursing the Drakon bloodline for all eternity.

  Lord Victor looked weary. “No man should be made to suffer for the choices of his heart.”

  “Aye,” Gabriel spat. “Just as an entire clan should not be punished for their leader’s irresponsible follies.”

  Lord Drakon turned away then, his eyes solemn as he fastened a look upon the figure of a hunched and ageless woman who before had gone unnoticed. She advanced, her weathered face coming to rest upon Gabriel. She was called Agatha, and was a witch of the Ananovian clan. Dwellers of the hills of eastern Romania, this secluded race of witches had lent their assistance to the gargoyles for decades in return for protection. They were healers, not fighters, but their abilities were matched by none.

  Agatha reached within her cloak and pulled forth two palm-sized flat, circular stones with hollowed centers. She kneeled, placing each onto the floor before her. Engraved with the sacred symbols of the Ananovian witch clan, they were called the Runes of Moloch and Cythe. They’d been harvested from the bowels of the earth and animated by the most powerful Ananovian warlocks. They were used in binding spells to contain spirits or souls of those who required captivity.

  Before them, Gabriel wrenched at the chains, shaking the room once again with another fierce growl. “Sorcery! I see you have reached a new low, Victor!” he spat.

  Lord Victor said nothing. He stepped back as the witch began to chant. A serpent-like stream of smoke crawled from beneath her cloak, swelling into a translucent cloud that quickly spun a web about the gargoyles who were fastened to the walls. They began to shriek and rip at the chains that bound them as the cold transformation to granite crept up their legs, snaking through their veins and freezing everything in its wake.

  “Until we meet again, brother,” Gabriel spoke. A moment later he’d become a solid mass of stone.

  Agatha retrieved the runes from the floor and handed them to Lord Victor. A veil of grief fell over his face before he accepted them.

  “These runes bind their souls now,” Agatha spoke. “Destroy the stones and you will release your brother and his followers. They must be secured.”

  Nicholas’s gaze strayed over the twelve statues, each frozen in a pose of rage and anguish. There was no question as to whether his father’s judgment had been deserved, for countless efforts had been made to reform the wayward gargoyles. Whether his father would choose to make it an eternal sentence, he didn’t know. Whether the world would ever be ready for Gabriel’s release was an even greater speculation.

  Chapter 1

  New York, present day

  This was going to be easier than taking candy from a baby.

  Daniela Ferreira adjusted the focus on her high-powered night-vision binoculars. She stood on the roof of the five-story building opposite the Langara gallery. From her vantage point, she could see directly into the wide glass windows that lined the front of the establishment. It was nearing 10:00 p.m and the owners were still busy unpacking crates of antiques. She had intended to hit a jewelry store tonight as well, but this was more important. Just within the walls of the gallery lay the item called the Rune of Moloch. It was said to be hundreds of years old and worth a hefty sum. From the illustrations she’d been given, it looked like nothing more than a flat rock. But then she never questioned a buyer’s interest in a particular item. She was hired to steal and deliver, and as long as she got paid for the task, she couldn’t care less about motives.

  Stealing was a way of life for Daniela. It was her profession; a necessity for survival after her mother had walked out on her and her younger sister. Daniela had only been seventeen at the time. Ever since then she’d made a living robbing others. Her missions had gotten bigger and her equipment more advanced, but one thing hadn’t changed: she was still a thief.

  Turning the knob on the top of the binoculars, she zoomed in on the two men who were still busy inside the gallery. They had removed their blazers and rolled up their shirtsleeves, and she could see the distinct outline of thick, corded muscles flexing beneath their shirts.

  She’d heard of this pair; the Drakon brothers. They were renowned for their great business success and their incredible good looks. It seemed that the rumors served them justice. Tall and swarthy, they resembled the heroes of ancient Rome. Even from this distance their dark, chiseled features were unmistakable.

  Lowering the device, she unsnapped the collar of her black leather catsuit—it was getting quite warm in the skintight attire. To distract herself, she reset the timer on her wristwatch. She’d done her research and knew full well that an advanced security system had been installed. Once inside the building, she’d have approximately five minutes to locate the Rune of Moloch, steal it and get the hell out of there before the police arrived.

  When Daniela looked through the binoculars again, she noticed that a black Rolls Royce had pulled in front of the establishment. The driver held the door open as a woman exited. The woman moved carefully up the stone stairs in front of the building, no doubt hindered by the weight of her protruding abdomen.

  Daniela’s mouth contorted with a wavering hint of jealousy. She briefly wondered if she’d ever find herself in such a state—pregnant and in a dress. At this rate, such a possibility seemed nonexistent. She was twenty-five and still a virgin.

  Between conducting burglaries, evading the authorities and raising her sister, she simply had no time for men and their very expectant personalities. At least that’s what she told herself. Deep down inside she knew that she craved companionship.

  She forced the thoughts from her mind and focused on the scene playing before her. The woman had entered the building and was immediately pulled into the embrace of one of the Drakon brothers. He placed an affectionate kiss on her lips before checking his watch.

  Daniela couldn’t suppress the smile that crawled to her lips when he retrieved his blazer from the top of an unpacked crate and slipped it on.

  She twisted her long, curly hair into a bun at her nape and pulled her black latex mask on. “Showtime.”

  * * *

  Nicholas Drakon pressed down on the crowbar until the lid of the small wooden crate creaked open. This was the last of them. The entire shipment had come from Romania and had arrived on schedule. The delivery consisted of twenty pieces from England, China and Spain, all dating back to the early 1500s.

  He and his brother Marius had started the auction gallery a year and a half ago and had quickly obtained success. Some of the items had come from their family’s estate, which was presently being renovated, and the others were antiques that they acquired from various corners of the world.

  Nicholas loved New York. His life in Romania had dwindled to routine boredom. This city had much to offer. He enjoyed the nightlife, the mixing of cultures and the many beautiful women who were willing to do anything to affiliate themselves with the wealthy. All of which he took complete advantage of.

  The lid of the crate lifted and he eased it to the floor. He rummaged through the packing grass until he felt the smooth edges of the artifact that lay within. Carefully, he pulled it out and inspected it. The Rune of Moloch fit perfectly within the palm of his hand. For centurie
s it had been hidden within a secret chamber in his family’s castle while its twin, the Rune of Cythe, had been secured by his father. By Lord Victor’s orders the stones had always been kept apart, and if they were transported it was also done individually. As the castle was presently under renovations, Nicholas had decided to move the stone to a vault within the gallery to assure its security.

  He turned to watch his brother standing next to his wife, who was busy admiring a collection of medieval jewelry. Marius was two years younger than him and about to be a father. Marius’s young and beautiful wife, Alexandra, looked radiant despite being eight months pregnant.

  Nicholas picked up his blazer, not bothering to slip it back on. He had to admit that he often found himself battling the green tentacles of envy when he compared his life to his brother’s. Marius was married and in love. Nicholas habitually tried to convince himself that love and marriage weren’t for him. He was a self-proclaimed rogue and enjoyed every moment of it. There were just too many delectable women out there in need of his attention.

  Alexandra turned her bright eyes to Marius as he pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “Oh, no, I can’t accept it,” she protested as he leaned over to open the showcase.

  Nicholas shook his head and turned away to assess the work they’d done setting up the gallery. His brother was forever showering his wife with diamonds and emeralds, many of which were a part of their display and worth a hefty sum. If she saw something and took a fancy to it, then it was hers.

  Nicholas snorted. He’d never doted on a woman so relentlessly. Then again, he and Marius were quite the opposite in most things. On the surface their relation was undeniable as they were tall, dark and striking—true to the Drakon bloodline. But Marius catered to their mother’s disposition and was patient, gentle and thoughtful. Whereas Nicholas was intolerant, demanding and forceful. Yet, somehow they managed to work together and maintain a lucrative business.