Surrender to Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page A

intelligent brown eyes. Large muscles, an aggressive jaw, and eyes the rusty color of autumn leaves had never appealed to her before.
    Yet there was no denying the tug of desire.
    Or its raw intensity.
    The limousine pulled off the highway and onto the familiar well-tended dirt road leading to the estate.
    Then again, she was not a nun. One did not reach the age of twenty-four without experiencing the fluttering heart and damp heat of arousal. But she’d never experienced anything quite like this. Even a solid half hour after leaving the restaurant, even after the unbearable edge of need had worn off, the lingering sensations wracking her body could not be captured with such weak words as flutter and arousal . Explode, shudder, devastate, burn . Those did a better job, and even they did not quite express what she was feeling.
    Strange.
    And humiliating.
    Years of study, long hours of learning to control the inner workings of her mind, all lost in an instant. All scattered like the wind with a single glancing touch. Her reaction to Murdoch had been that of a novice, of an untrained acolyte, not the enlightened response of a master. Yet a master was what she purported to be. As the direct descendant of Abe no Seimei, the most venerable onmyōji wizard of all time, she was presumed to be uniquely capable of leading a group of mystical warriors against the current madness in the world.
    “Even a master can stumble,” Sora said softly.
    Her gaze flew up to meet his.
    Ryuji huffed. “You’re not suggesting Murdoch is any form of master, are you?”
    The old man shrugged. “Everything about him whispered warrior .”
    “Whisper? Ha. Nothing about the man is a whisper.”
    Sora tilted his head. “Do you agree, Kiyoko-san?”
    Recalling her first impressions of the images on the video screen, she shook her head. “The subtleties speak louder than the roars. He moves with the grace and purpose of a highly trained soldier, not a simple antiquities dealer.”
    Ryuji frowned. “Perhaps you should verify his credentials with your mutual acquaintance.”
    “No.” Calling Lena was out of the question. It would take more than a visit from an intriguing emissary to forgive the woman for involving her in a scheme that went against every principle she held to. Every value Tatsu Ashida had instilled in her.
    She blinked rapidly, swamped by a sudden rush of memories.
    The hole her father left was still deep. For twenty years, ever since the death of her mother, he’d been her lodestone. Always patient and purposeful, he had schooled her in the onmyōji ways—revealed the secrets of their ancestral spells, trained her to the sword, and shared all that he knew of fighting evil. His belief in her destiny had been unwavering, but the light shone less brightly now that he was gone.
    The majestic sweep of the compound’s stone gate appeared out of the gloom, and the limousine braked to a halt before the torii. Kiyoko smiled at the two large niou statues overlooking the entrance. The familiar fierce stone guardians resembled Murdoch.
    “The only way to get to the root of why Murdoch-san is in Japan is to ask the man himself,” she said, taming the eager surge of her pulse with a studied breath. Would his appeal be just as potent the second time around?
    Ryuji expressed his opinion with a silent glare.
    “I do think there is more to Mr. Murdoch than meets the eye,” Sora said, as they exited the car.
    “Perhaps,” Ryuji allowed, “but he’s dangerous.”
    He turned to Kiyoko.
    “Will you be coming into the city tomorrow? I’ll understand if this unfortunate situation discourages you from making the trip, but we made excellent progress with the manufacturing reports today and I should like to continue.”
    She smiled. “Yes, I’ll be there. You’ve been most generous with your time, Watanabe-san. I greatly appreciate your willingness to allay my fears about the state of the company.”
    “It is both my pleasure and my duty,”