Doomsday Brethren about to strike again!

October 26. That’s the day I’ll be releasing not one but two new Doomsday Brethren stories. Today, I’m posting some of the very first excerpt from both of these stories ever. I hope you enjoy!

In national bestselling author Shayla Black’s electrifying new novel, the Doomsday Brethren fight their mortal enemy for the newest weapon in a bloody magical war: the only woman a magical warrior shouldn’t claim…and the one he can’t resist.

Dangerously handsome Simon Northam, Duke of Hurstgrove, and his uptight barrister brother hardly get along, but crashing Mason’s wedding and stealing his fiancée take sibling rivalry to a new level. Duke’s family knows nothing of his magical prowess or the Doomsday Brethren, so how can he explain that mankind’s fate lies with the beautiful, tenacious bride he longs to seduce for himself?

Felicia is an Untouchable, a rare human whose presence disables magic—even the impenetrable forces surrounding Morganna le Fay’s tomb. The evil witch’s malicious powers could propel nefarious wizard Mathias to ultimate world domination . . . if he can resurrect her. To conceal herself, Felicia must heed her simmering desires to mate with Duke, but he risks binding his life—and sanity—to a lover whose loyalty may be forever torn. He faces a terrible choice: betray his brother for ultimate survival . . . or lose the woman who tempts him beyond control.

Excerpt

The next few minutes passed in tense silence until, finally, Duke pulled off the motorway at the only bit of civilization visible. A few scattered cottages, looking as old as the tiny village itself, squatted on a dark, narrow road. At the end, nestled in trees, a plain mid-century house appeared, only visible because his headlights reflected off the front windows.

As he steered the convertible closer, he noted a faint air of lonesomeness. He pulled up in the drive and turned to Felicia. “Wait here.”

He hopped out of the car and sprinted to the little cottage door. A few envelopes bulged out of the mail slot. A peek through the window revealed newspapers littering the floor. No one had been home for days.

Praying the inhabitants were away for the holiday, Duke returned to the car, then followed the drive around the back of the house. He cut the lights and the engine.

“Who lives here?” she asked, frowning.

No idea. “A friend. Let’s go.”

Felicia grabbed his arm as he began to climb out of the car. “You’re lying.”

How could she know that? “We’ll only be here a few hours. Come on.”

“We can’t just barge into someone’s home!”

“This is life or death. We haven’t time to be polite.”

She dug in her heels. “We’re staying in separate rooms, yes?”

It would be wiser for his self-control, but… Duke shook his head. “I’ll do my utmost to respect your privacy. But I can’t let this…man get his hands on you, Felicia. I won’t risk you. ‘Depraved’ is too kind a word to describe him.”

She hesitated, then sighed. “All right.”

Her acceptance of the situation relieved him and made him a bit proud. She was smart and practical…and driving him mad with lust.

At he walked around to help her out of the car, he murmured, “Stay close to me.”

Felicia exited, shivering as she scanned their surroundings. He slung an arm around her and drew her against his side.

Bristling, she backed away. “I’m perfectly fine. There’s no one about.”

“You’d be surprised by the things that go bump in the night.” He smiled grimly at her. “Besides, you’re freezing. Let’s go.”

The moment they stepped away from the car, the January wind whipped through them anew. She shivered in the delicate lace of her wedding dress and crossed her arms, huddling into herself to keep warm.

Stubborn woman. Duke shrugged out of his coat.

“Oh, no. You don’t—”

Felicia didn’t even finish her protest before he settled his dinner jacket over her shoulders. Almost instantly, she sank deep into the warmth of the coat.

“Warmer?”

Felicia buried her hands in the lapels and inhaled deeply. Duke was already hard, but his erection turned painful.

Cheeks red, she lifted her face from the garment and nodded. “T—thank you.”

At the door, Duke hesitated. If Felicia weren’t with him, he’d simply wave a hand and let his magic open the door. He couldn’t send her two hundred meters away now. Too dangerous. So in addition to kidnapping, less than four hours later, he’d be adding breaking and entering to his criminal repertoire. Wouldn’t Mum be proud?

He reared back to elbow out a little pane of glass above the handle when Felicia tapped his shoulder. She held the key in her hand.

“Where did you find that?”

She gestured to her feet. “Flower pot. I keep my spare there as well.”

Very smart. Duke grabbed the key and stepped forward to open the door for Felicia.

They stepped into the cozy little house with its neutral colors and masculine touches. Duke closed the door behind her and locked it. Just in case, he tried to magically secure the door…but nothing. Damn. He’d have to keep her close and take other precautions.

He passed her on the narrow stairwell, his body brushing hers at the chest, and thighs. He steadied her with his hands on her shoulders. All right, it was an excuse to touch her. The yearning to press her bare flesh against him and unleash his need for her pounded him again, growing dangerously with every moment they were together. Only thoughts of Mason and Mathias enabled him to release her and trek down the hall.

Duke opened the first door. A slightly musty scent drifted out, as if no one had slept here recently. He flipped on the nearby lamp. The room was stark, masculine, minimal, and very small. The owner had squeezed an armoire, a wooden bench, and one narrow tester bed into the room.

It was going to be a long night.

Biting back a curse, Duke ushered Felicia into the bedroom. He took another glance at the little bed. His gut tightened. “Would you like the shower first?”

“If you don’t mind…”

Duke gestured to the adjacent room, and she edged past him, flipped on the light to reveal glossy black tiles lining a stark white shower, then turned. His gaze locked with hers, squeezing the air from his lungs, until she closed the door between them.

Letting out a breath, Duke tore off his shoes, coat, tie, and shirt. He’d rather strip down and ease this aching erection, but Felicia was forbidden, and wanking off to thoughts of her would not be helpful, he knew from experience. Besides, he must stay focused on her safety.

Lifting the dark wooden blinds, he looked outside at the night around him, alert for any signs of menace. He couldn’t see a damn thing beyond the trees, but Mathias must be out there searching, waiting for him to fuck up and expose Felicia to danger.

Suddenly, Felicia opened the bathroom door and peeked out, her face hesitant. “Can you help me? I hate to ask…”

“Anything,” he vowed, crossing the room to her.

She bit her lip. “My dress…”

Then turned her back to him. A row of small satin buttons secured the lace gown from her neck to her waist—twenty of them, at least. And she wanted him to unfasten them? Unwrap her like a package?

A fresh wave of desire swamped him, nearly overwhelming. Dear God, how could he touch those buttons—her skin—and not take more?

Felicia cast a nervous glance over her shoulder again, moving the thick tumble of golden curls that had fallen from her twist out of his way.

Duke did his best to school his face and soothe her as he closed the distance between them. His heart revved, his palms turned damp. He wanted her so badly, he could hardly walk right.

She’s not yours.

With shaking hands, he reached for the first button at the creamy flesh of her neck, just below the wispy curls rioting near her hairline. Another button, then a second, a third…revealing the line of her spine and the softest skin. With each button, Duke exposed more and more of her, and his greedy gaze ate up every inch. The dress fell away, baring the delicate slopes of her shoulders, her upper back, the hint of her small waist.

His breathing turned ragged. As close as he was, Felicia couldn’t possibly fail to notice.

Two buttons left. He reached for the first, and couldn’t resist caressing one fingertip down her spine. She shuddered and looked back, wide-eyed, pupils dilated. She bit her plump bottom lip between her teeth, her breathing sounding harsh in the silence.

Dear God, she was aroused.

Grabbing the last button, he twisted it, sliding it free of its mooring. He had to get away from her before he did something they’d both regret.

The dress sagged forward, and she caught it—but not until it fell from her bare shoulders and slid toward her hips, revealing a bit of the white lacy knickers he yearned to rip from her body.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“You’re welcome.” His voice sounded rusty, as if he hadn’t used it in years.

Walk away!

But he stood, rooted. Staring.

Felicia retreated—until her back hit the portal. With one hand, she grabbed the edge of the door. To steady herself? To shut it? With the other, she clutched her dress to her breasts. Duke still saw the shadow between them, pale, plump, tempting…

His gaze jerked up to her face. She stared back.

The lust thickening his blood nearly knocked him over, and Duke gripped the door jamb above her head for support. In forty-three years, he’d never felt anything like this.

This was totally unfamiliar and beyond his control.

Duke shuffled closer. Her body heat grabbed him across the mere ribbon of space between them. He leaned in, tilted his head, his gaze zeroed in on her lips, thoughts of tasting her storming through his head.

He was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

“Stop me,” he murmured.

Felicia stared, breathless, silent.

Heart revving, Duke inched closer, enough to see the little line bisecting that lush lower lip and smell the peppermint of the holiday candy he’d given her in the car. “Felicia, stop me.”

But she swayed closer, her eyes fluttering shut. Her hand left the door and latched onto his bare shoulder. Her touch jolted his system, a lightning rod charging through him. Thought stopped, desire flared.

Yes, he was going to hell, but he’d go with her sweet taste on his tongue.

* * *

On that same day, I will release “Mated” in a totally new anthology with New York Times bestselling author Jeaneine Frost and fellow Texas author Sharie Kohler.

In the shadowy world of Shayla Black’s Doomsday Brethren, magical warrior Raiden vows to protect his woman and their unborn youngling from evil—and deliver her safely to another man. But once he’s saved her, can he let her go?

Excerpt

A moment later, they stood outside a neo-modern office building. Built in the 1960s and topping about five stories, the concrete structure had been carved with magical runes between each tier of white-draped windows. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

“It looks abandoned.” Eerily so, in fact.

He frowned, grabbing Tabitha’s hand tighter. “Indeed. Bram said the Council ministries no longer use this building. Apparently, it’s been the source of human speculation, particularly the meaning of the runes.”

“I recognize some of the symbols. Magic, mastery, truth, Fate. Death.”

Raiden shrugged, his wide shoulders looking almost menacing in a dark trench. “We don’t have time to decipher it now. I have an uneasy feeling. Let’s move quickly. I don’t want you out in the open where you’re vulnerable to Mathias or any eyes he might have watching.”

“He likely has no idea where I am.”

He hustled her under the building’s portico, deep in shadow, and pinned her with a glare. “Do you really think it would take Mathias very long to figure out that your father had a daughter he hadn’t managed to kill in the attack? And that the daughter carried my child? Once he pieces all the information together, he’s going to be but a breath behind us.”

Dear God, she’d never thought of that before, but her father would have recorded her own birth. There would be no mating listed in The Peers and People of Magickind because she’d never mated. The fact that she carried Raiden’s child wouldn’t be listed until the youngling’s birth, but even so, a wizard with Mathias’s cunning and resources could find that information. After all, he hadn’t managed to outwit most of the Council and stay a step ahead of the Doomsday Brethren by being a half-wit.

“Fuck.” Raiden ran a hand through his long, pale hair. “And once he starts pursuing us, I know where he’ll look first. We can’t go back to your house. Or mine.”

“You’re right.”

“I’ll tell Ronan to warn my father away until this is settled. He won’t be happy, but if we can find what we’re looking for now, then I can set all back to rights soon.”

“Meaning your father can go home, and you can wash your hands of me by dumping me on Sean Blackbourne’s doorstep?”

His face tightened, darkened. Raiden’s temper wasn’t a small thing, and she wondered if she’d crossed some line.

He cursed and turned away. “That would be for the best.”

“For whom?” she challenged, furious to the bone with his oblique answers. “It would certainly be easiest for you. Then you could rid yourself of me, guilt-free and—”

Raiden grabbed her and pulled her close. “Listen to me. I have tried every way I know to spare you more heartache. I was a bastard to you, yes. I seduced you with every intention of walking out the door. I don’t mate. I am my father’s son.”

“I refuse to believe that.” Tabitha shook her head.

“I’m trying to do the right thing now. Instead of seducing you again, I’m warning you away. Which do you think I’d rather do?” He raised a golden brow, his hot gaze wandering down her body.

* * *

Haven’t tried the Doomsday Brethren series yet? Read my free novella about Raiden’s twin Ronan here. Want a chance to win MORE Doomsday Brethren? For a chance to win a signed copy of each of the first three books in the series, leave a comment about either of the excerpts, and I’ll enter you in the drawing.

After Midnight Fantasies

Doomsday Brethren about to strike again!

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