Free Immortal Hope by Claire Ashgrove

despite the objecting shake of her head.
    “What guarantee do I have that if I show you, you won’t create something that matches?”
    At once offended that she would think him capable of such trickery, he asked through gritted teeth, “You doubt my honor?”
    She lifted an eyebrow and let out a soft chuckle. “Is it really necessary to answer that?”
    Merrick clenched his fingers around the chair’s smooth arm. His word had never been questioned. Even those who despised him for conquering them had never challenged his honor. Not even his uncle, who refused to acknowledge Merrick’s birthright, dared such. “I assure you, I speak naught that is false, nor do I tolerate those who do.”
    “Not going to work, Merrick. You want me to believe this stuff, then you show me my matching mark first.”
    Clearly, they were at an impasse. He lacked the energy to pursue the battle, however. Raking a hand through his hair, he dropped his head to the back of the chair. “I am weary, Anne.” Weak as well, but he would not tell her such. The explanation would only lead to more questions, and he simply lacked the strength to carry on a conversation. “Can we not resolve this so I may rest?”
    “I’m not stopping you from sleeping.”
    “Nay?” He lifted his head to look at her, surprised by the effort it required. “What guarantee do I have that you shall not vanish once I shut my eyes?”
    “I guess you’ll just have to chance it.”
    The bed creaked as she stood up. Moving to stand in front of him, she gestured at the mattress. “Go sleep.”
    He did not trust this more agreeable side of her nature. Yet he could no longer hold his eyes open. Exhaustion weighed him down, making the simple effort of sitting upright near impossible. Against his better judgment, he went to the bed, took off his sword, and collapsed into the mattress’ welcome softness. Rolling onto his back, he tossed an arm over his forehead and let out a deep sigh. “If you are missing when I wake…”
    “Oh hell, Merrick. I’m not going anywhere. I’m too damn curious to run.”
    A smile tugged at his mouth. He peeked out from beneath his elbow to look at her and spied her in his chair. “You speak like a man.”
    “Get used to it.”
    He supposed he had little choice.

 
    CHAPTER 5
    Declan’s gaze strayed down the corridor that led to Merrick’s room. For a modern woman, Anne held a simple beauty and charm. She did not accent her eyes with kohl, nor did she paint her cheeks with rouge. And her manner of dress strangely did not hold the tastelessness of so many women of her era, despite her trendy fashion. She resonated with unspoken class.
    Yet ’twas not her wholesome good looks that drew his restless stare. The gift she carried inside, the light of angels in her soul, made him want to chase her down and demand she pledge herself to him.
    “Abigail is gone then? Azazel has taken the nail?” Farran asked of Caradoc.
    Declan forced his attention back to his companions.
    Caradoc answered with a nod. He moved across the large prayer chamber, pacing in front of the gathered five. “Aye, ‘tis what Mikhail told us last month. We are to anticipate a second attack. Mikhail has reinforced the other two adytum’s crucifixion nails. He intends to send the six of us when Azazel’s knights draw near.”
    Declan swallowed down a lump of dread. Another confrontation with one of Azazel’s knights, and his time would come to an end. Already he felt the darkness stir each time he confronted one of Azazel’s lesser pawns. In the last fight with Merrick, it had become painful to strike the creatures, so close was he to transformation.
    “These next few months shall not be easy for us. I fear we will lose those we are closest to.” Although he addressed the other men, Caradoc’s knowing gaze settled on him, and Declan shifted under the penetrating weight.
    The Templar Code dictated Declan inform his brothers that his time neared. Merrick had done so a