Dark Rival Read Free Page A

even tense. They were coming her wav and she couldn't move—she was
    utterly defenseless. She strained her senses—there was no evil. Allie moaned and collapsed.
    Her last conscious thought was that she had tried, but she hadn't resurrected the dead.
    ALLIE AWOKE, feeling heavy and drugged.
    She opened her eyes, feeling as if they‘d been glued shut, and tested her fingers and toes, her hands and feet, relieved that, although weak, everything was in working order. She'd been asleep, but not in her own bed and she felt nauseous, too. She started, suddenly realizing that she was in a hospital room, hooked up to various monitors and an IV. What the hell?
    And instantly, she remembered trying to bring the dead girl back to life and finally passing out. Someone must have found her and called 911.
    She sat up. She was seriously exhausted from the effort she'd made, but not so much that she couldn't get up and leave. She grimaced, imagining the questions she’d be asked when she summoned a nurse. Questions were to be avoided.
    Allie tore the tape off the IV and was removing the needle as gently as possible when she felt warmth filling the room. She tensed, recognizing the white power, and looked up.
    Her mother appeared by her bedside. Allie gasped in shock. Although her mother had died fifteen years ago. Allie had never forgotten her. Her legacy—and her compassion— had been far too great. There was no question that her mother had come to visit her from the dead, for the first time. She was as fair and blond as Allie was dark, with an oddly ageless appearance. Now she smiled at her, but her eyes shimmered with urgency.
    It is time now, darling. Embrace your destiny.
    Stunned, Allie reached out—but her mother was already fading. “Don't go!” she cried, sliding from the bed to stand.
    But her mother kept fading, becoming a vague shadow.
    Golden.
    Her mother was speaking again! Allie could hear her, but her voice was weaker, nearly inaudible, as she drifted away.
    But of course she was fading—it would be almost impossible for her to come back to this realm after being dead for so many years. “Mom! Don't go! What is it?” She was shocked, thrilled but she was also alarmed. If her mother was trying to communicate with her from the dead, after so many years of absence, something had to be terribly wrong.
    Trust….
    Her mother's image was gone, and she was alone in the small, curtained cubicle, “Who do you want me to trust? I trust you!” she cried.
    The golden Master.
    Allie stiffened, confused and doubtful she had heard correctly—until a stunningly clear image formed in her mind.
    One of the most gorgeous and masculine men she had ever seen took over her mind. Allie saw a bronzed hunk with disheveled, dark gold, sun-streaked hair—and he was stark naked. Her interest escalated. He was a mass of bulging muscles, interesting slabs and amazingly defined planes. The man was built like the mythological Hercules—and he was packed. He was drop-dead gorgeous, with nearly perfect but oh-so-masculine features set in a very strong face. His expression was terse and hard, with stunning silver eyes that were piercing.
    His body belonged on a knight from another time. In fact, she could envision him with a sword in hand. At the same time, he looked ready to rock and roll.
    She swallowed, terribly breathless.
    What was she doing? She was hearing her mother, speaking from the dead, and fantasizing about the kind of man she'd never meet, except maybe in a romance novel. But his expression wasn't one she could ever make up, not in a million years. What did that mean? And did it matter? She had to get the hell out of the hospital before someone tried to question her.
    “Allie?”
    Allie tensed as one of her best friends stepped through the curtains. Brianna Rose was a dead ringer for Jennifer Garner, but it was almost impossible to realize that, because she wore shapeless suits and black eyeglasses, and pulled her hair severely