Read Dark Destiny (Principatus) for Free Online

His…scream… No, his smile growing.
    He runs and… Oh God, it’s here. It’s here. It’s found you. It’s found…
    The sun runs with him. The cold, white sun that reflects off the bones crunching under his feet. The bones of the dead left in his wake.
    He runs.
    And it chases him, its hand reaching for his heart, reaching and squeezing and crushing and killing him. He runs, and it runs after him. Gaining. Gaining. Until it is right behind him, ready to tear him apart, ready to tear him into a thousand bloody—
    Patrick jerked awake, his heart smashing against his breastbone, his sweat-soaked sheets tangled around his legs. Christ. Not again.
    He sucked in a long, shaky breath, flicking his gaze around his darkened room. Yes, it was his room. Not a deserted beach.
    Raking his fingers through his hair, he sighed, forcing his heart to slow. A dream. Just a dream. The same dream he’d had for as long as he could remember—running along the beach. Dead bodies. Being hunted by something unseen. Something dark and sick—but a dream all the same.
    No. Not all the same, Patrick. This one was different somehow. This one had—
    He frowned into the darkness. The woman. The woman in the baseball cap from the beach. Letting out a frustrated breath, he rubbed his face with his hands. Fair dinkum, he must be losing his mind. Not only had the recurring nightmare been more vivid, more insistent , his messed-up psyche had gone and incorporated the mysterious woman from the beach into his dream.
    Patrick shut his eyes and bam! There she was. Face still shadowed by the peak of her cap, eyes still concealed by large, black sunglasses, long black hair tumbling over straight, fine shoulders. The woman who may or may not exist. The woman making him—
    Something touched his chest. A feather-light caress that felt like cool fingertips stroking his bare skin directly above his heart.
    He leapt from the bed, smashing his fist against the light switch barely a second after his feet touched the floor.
    And saw the woman from the beach.
    Standing beside his bed.
    Looking at him.
     
    Fred noticed three things straight away. Patrick Watkins was looking directly at her, he was stark naked and he was semi-aroused.
    By the Powers, he’s huge .
    “Who the hell are you?”
    His deep, angry growl made her jump. She stared at his face—his face, Fred , his face —her mouth dry. “You can see me!”
    “Of course, I can see you. And I saw you at the beach today.” Sharp green eyes narrowed. “What the fuck did you do to my drowning victim?”
    Fred clenched her jaw, giving the human before her a level look. “For your information, your drowning victim was a pedophile.”
    A shimmer of disgust ignited in Patrick Watkins’ dark green eyes before he clenched his own jaw. “Mr. Peabody was alive until you touched him.”
    Fred cocked her head to the side, trying like hell to ignore the fact that the man seemed to have forgotten he was naked—and still partially erect. Ignore it? How do you ignore something that impressive? “Yes, I must say, you did a very good job resurrecting him from his initial passing. But it was his time and no interference, no matter how skilled or stubborn, would have saved him.”
    Patrick’s eyes widened. “Interference? His time?” Anger flared in his unwavering stare. “Who the fuck are you? The Grim Reaper?”
    Fred inclined her head slightly. “Just call me Fred.”
    “Well, Fred .” Patrick took a step toward her, the anger in his face growing dark. Menacing. “ I’d saved him. I don’t care how bloody sexy you are, or who you think you are, he was alive until you touched him. What the hell did you do to him?”
    Fred’s heart stopped for a split second, before pounding triple-time. Sexy? A grin stretched her lips and a wild flutter erupted between her thighs. He thought she was sexy.
    He also thinks you’re a murderer.
    She pulled a face, crossing her arms across her chest. Her nipples brushed