Immortal Sacrifice: #4 The Curse of the Templars Read Free Page A

tattoo on the outside of her ankle.
    Fringed with a touch of disbelief, his question slammed into her. In one swift stroke, the already budding nightmare of confronting him transformed into a living horror. Caradoc wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be gallantly picking up her papers, and he damn sure wasn’t supposed to notice the tattoo she’d designed in a moment of uncontrolled yearning, a year after he’d abandoned her.
    A tattoo that identically matched the colorful family crest on Caradoc’s right shoulder blade.

 
     
    Chapter 2

     
     
    If such were possible, Caradoc’s throat closed even more. One knee touching the marble floor, he remained motionless, his gaze riveted on the majestic gryphon beneath the pad of his thumb. Through four generations, the regal creature had identified the Asterleigh holdings, but the beast on Isabelle’s ankle, the same beast that adorned Caradoc’s shoulder blade, had been embellished by his father. She had not possessed it before, yet somehow, she had reproduced it to perfection. From the tip of its sinewy tail, to its gold-fringed wings and razor sharp talons, every detail was a precise match. As if he had sketched it for her.
    An invisible fist thumped into his gut as another , more powerful, understanding registered. His mark. His seraph.
    Christ’s blood, he had turned away from the one woman who held his destiny in her hands. Shattered her faith in him, destroyed their love, and forced her out of his life.
    He would like to believe otherwise. Would like the ability to convince himself that the colorful ink had nothing to do with the prophecy of seraphs. ’Twould be a simpler act, despite the anguish it brought, if she were naught but a mortal woman. For if she were, he would not be confronted with the very real possibility he had doomed himself needlessly and subjected the Order to failure. For without her oath, the Templar prophecy would crack.
    Yet even as he struggled to accept what lay before his eyes, a strange, unexpected peace descended around him. The knifing ache that had so long lingered in his bones ebbed to a dull throb. As it had the first moment he had taken Isabelle Speranza in his arms and lost himself to the heady flavor of her kiss.
    His breath came out in a low hiss. Damnation, he should have known then! Should have recognized she possessed the light his dying soul required.
    Mystified, he ran his thumb down the gryphon’s lion-like back. His seraph.
    Isabelle jerked her foot out of his grasp and answered the question he had forgotten about. “It’s nothing but youthful stupidity.”
    Her words lanced through him, and he winced again. Before he could lift his gaze to hers and beg her to wait, she turned and stalked away, her papers forgotten.
    In her absence, the dull throb roared to intolerable limits. Caradoc’s joints screamed in protest as he struggled to right himself. Youthful stupidity— aye, his seraph she might be, but whatever they had shared was lost. What union they might experience now would be naught less than duty.
    A misery he could blame only on himself.
    He glanced down at the papers in his hands and expelled a heavy sigh. The Almighty could be no more cruel.
    “So that is Isabelle,” Tane murmured. “’Tis no wonder she holds you in chains.”
    Jarred from his thoughts, Caradoc became aware of his brothers’ curious stares. Had they too seen the tattoo? Surely they could not have witnessed it—his hand had covered most of the fanciful design.
    Unwilling to discuss the many questions that would follow should he mention their shared marks, he tapped the glass case that contained the necklace. “This is our purpose here. For now, ’tis safe.” He lifted his hand to indicate the network of cameras and motion detectors that clung to the ceiling.
    Gareth frowned. “You believe technology would thwart Azazel?”
    “Nay. I believe Raphael would. For if the Dark One should make his presence known, he is