Taken by Storm ISBN 978-0-9848798-1-6 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Taken by Storm, Second Edition Copyright © 2012 Cyndi Friberg. Cover art by Dar Albert This edition is a major revision of Taken by Storm, Copyright © 2011 With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author, Cyndi Friberg. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously. Praise for Beyond Ontariese Taken by Storm “Taken by Storm had it all—tense action, suspense, erotic sex, humor and a wildly imaginative plot.” ~The Romance Studio “Unplug the phone and put the kids to bed; once you start reading Taken by Storm you won’t want any interruptions!” ~Fallen Angel Reviews “For a story that will delight, entertain, and keep you on the edge of your seat, I highly recommend Taken by Storm and award it RRT’s Perfect 10.” ~Romance Reviews Today Operation Hydra “I highly recommend Operation Hydra…it’s one of the best science fiction romances I’ve ever read. Perfect 10!” ~Romance Reviews Today “Outstanding! This segment only whetted my appetite for more. The heat between Kyrsta and Trey could cause a nuclear meltdown.” ~Simply Romance Reviews City of Tears “WOW! City of Tears by Cyndi Friberg is one amazing blend of science fiction at its best and romance at its hottest…” ~eCata Reviews Taken by Storm Cyndi Friberg Beyond Ontariese, Book One: Tal dar Aune, a powerful shape-shifting mage, comes to Earth on a desperate quest to find a mysterious woman before his nemesis destroys her. Little does Tal know the "helpless" female he's come to save is the key to peace on his war-torn world...or that he'll long to touch her, take her, make her his. Unaware of her royal roots or alien origins, Charlotte spends her first thirty years on Earth. Then Tal bursts into her life with all the subtlety of a thunder storm. He's rude, arrogant, and easily the most desirable man she's ever encountered. With a ruthless madman hot on their heels, they can't afford to be distracted by the attraction rapidly growing between them, but the emotions are too powerful to ignore. 4 Prologue Ontariese Cycle 1 of the Great Conflict E’Lanna dar Aune sank to her knees, a low groan torn from her throat. Her lover’s hands moved to steady her, but E’Lanna allowed nothing to distract her from her purpose. They had so little time. If they were detected, all was lost. She fixed her gaze on the babies lying side by side in front of her. Identical in every way, their luminous eyes stared back with trust and adoration. Tears blinded her. How would she live without them? Stretching out her hands, she scanned the babies meticulously, making sure she had left nothing unbound. There must be no sign of their power, no hint to draw attention to them. “It is time, Your Majesty,” her lover, also a Mystic, said, and gently squeezed her shoulder. She nodded and tried to stand but her entire body trembled. Oh no! Her power could not fail her now. She had yet to Summon the Storm. The binding ritual had drained her far more than she realized. “Steady,” the Mystic said, helping her to her feet. Two couples stepped forward, their costumes appropriate to the separate destinations awaiting them. E’Lanna caught her bottom lip between her teeth, holding back the protests raging within her. This was the only way. The Mystic gently picked up her babies and handed them to their guardians. E’Lanna wrapped her arms around herself and choked back a sob. She couldn’t let this destroy her. The safety of her daughters must come first. Quickly turning to the grassy clearing, she summoned the metaphysical plane. Thunder shook the ground and lightning branched out across the violet sky. She opened a transport conduit and poured energy into the vortex. The grass danced with sizzling vibrations and her robe whipped around her body. Bracing her legs farther apart, she Summoned the Storm. In a sudden, violent burst, six bolts of lightning struck the ground simultaneously, creating a visible circle of energy surrounding her. Reaching out through the vastness of space and time, she searched, guiding the conduit until she found the location she desired. The Mystic stepped up beside her. His hand was gentle at the small of her back. “I will hold the vortex,” he offered. He was allowing her time to say goodbye. One of the guardians passed the first child to her and E’Lanna drank in the sight of her delicate features, memorized the softness of her skin and her scent. She pressed her lips to the baby’s temple and implanted her image, ensuring her daughter would remember her face. “We will cherish her, Your Majesty, and protect her with our lives,” the guardian assured as E’Lanna returned the baby. The tightness in her throat made it impossible to speak so she nodded and motioned toward the vortex. The couple stepped through as E’Lanna shook with anguish and loss. The Mystic wrapped his arms around her, pressing himself against her back, supporting her, offering his energy. E’Lanna ignored the tears streaming down her face. Her task was not yet complete. She must protect the other twin. Gathering her power into a more manageable stream, she merged with the Mystic, allowing him to augment her rapidly depleting strength. Focusing again on the transport conduit, she accessed the power of the storm, channeling the energy into the vortex and guiding it in a new direction, to a separate destination. “Quickly,” she urged, motioning the couple forward. E’Lanna kissed the other baby, gently caressing her face. With her lips pressed to her daughter’s temple, she implanted the memory. Her heart gave a sickening lurch as she raised her head and passed the child to one of the remaining guardians. “Go now. I am losing control.” They didn’t hesitate. Lightning punctuated their departure and the conduit closed behind them. E’Lanna collapsed into her lover’s arms, releasing the shuddering sobs she could no longer contain. He held her tightly, rocking gently and whispering against her hair. Crushing the fabric of his robe in her fists, E’Lanna looked up at him, her expression fierce. “You must promise me, no matter what happens, you will protect them.” “With my life,” he said emphatically. “You must trust no one. No one. Do you understand? I am torn asunder by my responsibilities, but you can offer your allegiance to them alone.” “I offer it freely.” Burying her face against the warmth of his throat, she clutched him tightly and abandoned herself to grief. She must be strong. So many depended on her. She would be strong again tomorrow—but for now, she would mourn all this conflict had cost her. Chapter One Ontariese Cycle 89 of the Great Conflict “I’m not looking forward to this,” Tal muttered as he joined his brother in the vestibule of the Traditionalist Sect Council’s headquarters. Trey chuckled. He sprawled in a chair, one brawny leg hooked over its arm, swinging negligently. He always appeared carefree and comfortable, but Tal knew better. Shrewd intelligence lurked beneath his reckless façade and his intense amber gaze missed nothing. “If it were up to you, little brother, you’d never leave the Conservatory,” Trey chided. “The TSC wants a quick report and then you can zap yourself back to your safe little fortress and practice your spells.” Ignoring the semi-playful jibe, Tal folded his arms across his chest and tightened his hair until it lay in a neat, black coil down the center of his back. “We have nothing to report, so why are they wasting our time?” “Vee still can’t figure out where Joon went?” “We know when the portal opened and an approximate destination but…” Tal’s words trailed off as an argument broke out on the other side of the closed chamber door. “The TSC sounds as productive as ever.” “You’d better change your clothes. If you stroll into the esteemed council chambers in the simple robes of a Mystic, Prefect Aune will not be pleased.” There were so many things that displeased their father. Tal had long since abandoned his efforts to remember them all. But he didn’t argue. He visualized a formal Ontarian uniform and felt the shift ripple across the surface of his body. Glancing down, he inspected the result. Crisp, pleated trousers and a formfitting jacket. A row of bright gold buttons and a wide belt, the only decorations distracting from the austere black fabric. Trey stood and smacked him in the middle of the back. “You look damn good in black.” He laughed. “Good thing you don’t wear it more often.” A similar black uniform offset Trey’s vivid coloring. He had tucked his multicolored hair behind his ears, but refused to bind the bright red, gold and orange strands at the nape of his neck as was proper. Mischief danced in Trey’s amber gaze, and Tal smiled despite the tension wrapped around him like a rope. It was hard to remain somber around Trey. The chamber doors flew open, demanding the attention of both men.