Warrior Rising

Ilaria stared at him, her heavy-lidded expression stunned and confused.

Her mouth was swollen and damp from his kisses, a perfect rosy pink that had his hands curling around her shoulders, his muscles straining against the nearly overwhelming need to pull her back into his arms.

“What are you doing to me?” In his mind, the words sounded accusatory, but to his ears the question only sounded confused. “You’re enchanting me.”

She shook her head. Her lips parting as if in denial. But even as Harrison watched, they closed softly on a smile. A sad smile. “You don’t want to desire me. But you do.”

And she was right. Exactly right. He was a man who valued control above almost anything, yet within moments of meeting her, she’d attacked every ounce of control he possessed, and he’d yet to recover. It was all he could do not to pin her to the wall and take everything she offered.

Which only made him angry. She was the enemy.

Dear Reader,

Finally, I present to you the eagerly awaited conclusion to the Esri series. Although I’ve taken care to make certain you won’t be lost if you start with this book, I hope you’ll eventually read the entire series. The first three books of the series, The Dark Gate, Dark Deceiver, and, most recently, A Warrior’s Desire are available in e-book formats.

The Esri series has always been very near and dear to my heart. Previously, ex-Navy SEAL Charlie discovers a woman of strength, beauty, and passion in the pretty little slave, Tarrys, as they complete a dangerous mission into Esria to rescue the imprisoned Esri princess, Ilaria. Now Charlie’s brother, Harrison, whose hatred for the Esri knows no bounds, has been forced to guard the far-too-alluring Princess Ilaria as they struggle to seal the gates between the worlds once and for all.

I hope you enjoy this world and characters as much as I have.

Best always,

Pamela Palmer

PAMELA PALMER is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author. When her initial career goal of captaining starships didn’t pan out, Pamela turned to engineering, satisfying her desire for adventure with books and daydreams until finally succumbing to the need to create worlds of her own. She lives and writes in the suburbs of Washington, DC.

Warrior

Rising

Pamela Palmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Thanks to Laurin Wittig and Anne Shaw Moran, my

critique partners, my buddies, and the sisters of my

heart. I couldn’t do it without you and wouldn’t want

to. Thanks, too, to Ann Leslie Tuttle, Robin Rue,

Kim Castillo, Emily Cotler, Sarah Drasner, and Dana

Hamilton for all your efforts on my behalf. I love

working with you all.

And thanks and love to Keith for accompanying me

on the research trips and for always being there for me.

My hero.

Chapter 1

Midnight was still several hours away, the moon full behind a thick layer of snow clouds. Activity around the Dupont Circle fountain in downtown Washington, D.C., buzzed with a grim, almost desperate determination as more than a dozen metropolitan police, wearing wristbands of holly, cordoned off the traffic circle while a team of D.C. firefighters set up the fire ring that would be lit just before the witching hour.

Harrison Rand strode around the circle, overseeing the activity as the humans busily created a defense against the night’s probable coming invasion. Every month, for an hour at midnight of the full moon, the gates between the human world and Esria opened. For fifteen hundred years, the Esri—the man-sized, malicious creatures at the heart of the legends of fairies and elves—had been locked out of the human world, the gates sealed, but for the one forgotten…a gate that opened, oddly enough, into the heart of Washington, D.C.

Six months ago, an Esri had stumbled upon that forgotten gate by accident, on the scent of one of the seven stones of power, and things had gone downhill fast. Now all twelve gates were open and the Esri’s King Rith was hell-bent on tearing down the walls between the realms and enslaving the entire human race. Apparently, he had the power to do it. Or he would have, if he managed to get his hands on the magically powerful stones that had long ago been left in the human realm, stones that Harrison and his small team had searched for and found, and now guarded with their lives.

Harrison’s sole mission in life had narrowed down to one thing—protecting humanity from the Esri. And the only way any of them could do that was to reseal the gates before King Rith’s minions managed to steal back the stones, giving Rith the power he sought. But sealing those gates was a damn sight easier said than done.

He adjusted the combat vest that he’d donned in case the Esri came through shooting arrows this time. Blasted, uncomfortable thing. The CEO of his own computer software company, his world used to be one of the office, his uniform a pair of khakis and a polo shirt. It was his brother, Charlie, who’d always been the soldier, not him. But thanks to the trace of inhuman blood that apparently ran through their veins—Esri blood from some long-ago immortal ancestor—they were both soldiers now.

Those who couldn’t be enchanted, the humans with that trace of Esri blood—humans the Esri called Sitheen—were the only ones who could fight this war. And the Sitheen numbered only a handful.

As snowflakes began to swirl, his gaze moved to the white marble fountain itself, rising high into the air like a giant chalice. In the summer, water would tumble from that high loft down into the circular base from which the carved pedestal rose.

In the dead of winter, there was no water. If anything moved in that chalice tonight, it would be Esri.

A chill went through him that had only a little to do with the frigid air. He zipped up his parka and listened as Jack and Kade gave last-minute instructions to the five new Sitheen recruits Kade had found at area military installations and police departments.

Jack Hallihan was a D.C. cop, six feet tall, as big or bigger than any of the recruits. Kade, or Kaderil the Dark as he was known in Esria, towered over the lot of them like they were midgets. Seven feet of hard-muscled Esri, the immortal was half-human and didn’t look anything like his pale-skinned, pale-haired, slim-built brethren. Thank God for small favors, Kade was on their side now.

Harrison frowned. He didn’t want to trust the Esri…any Esri. And he definitely didn’t want to like this one. But Kade had offered up his immortal life to protect the humans—in particular, Autumn, the human woman he’d fallen in love with. It was hard to hate a guy like that.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t hate the rest of the raping, murderous bastards. And he did. He despised them with a fury he sometimes thought would choke him.

Six months ago, an Esri had touched Harrison’s seven-year-old daughter, Stephie. He’d just placed his white hand on her head, but whatever he’d done to her had made her scream and scream. And when the screaming had finally stopped, her mind had flown to a place no one could reach. She remained in a catatonic state from which doctors and Harrison’s ex-wife feared she might never recover. God alone knew what that monster had done to her. All Harrison knew was that the Esri were powerful, dangerous, magical beings. And he would do everything in his power to stop the bastards. Which meant getting these damned gates sealed again.

For the hundredth time since he’d arrived at Dupont Circle tonight, he pulled out his cell phone, making certain it was still on.

If only Charlie would call. His ex-navy SEAL brother had gone through the gate last month on a Hail-Mary mission to free the captive Esri princess, Ilaria—the one they believed had sealed the gates between the worlds fifteen centuries ago.

To beg her to seal them again.

Dammit, Charlie, call me.

He knew his brother had taken a cell phone. If he came through one of the other gates, he’d call. And considering midnight fell at different times in different places—and they suspected most of the gates opened into northern Europe—that should have happened at least a couple of hours ago.

They thought. They really didn’t know squat about these gates.

Come on, Charlie. Call me, little brother. Tell me you and Tarrys got the princess. Tarrys, a pretty little ex-slave from the Esri world had accompanied him through the gate, intending to keep an eye on him. Tell me you made it out of there alive.

Jack’s wife, Larsen, joined him, her blond hair tucked beneath the hood of her dark green parka. Larsen had been one of the first Sitheen targeted by the Esri, one of the first to understand that the bleached-skinned, murdering rapist she alone saw clearly, wasn’t human.

“Any word?” she asked softly. She was an attractive woman. A lawyer, if they ever got their lives back. Jobs no longer meant much when they faced an evil bent on the destruction of their world.

“No. Nothing.”

Her hand went to his arm as if he might need some strengthening or commiseration at Charlie’s lack of communication, but Harrison was more than used to this. Charlie had always been the more adventurous of the two, even before Dad left on a business trip with his young female assistant and never bothered to come home, propelling Mom into a deep and abiding relationship with the liquor cabinet. Afterward, his brother had turned wild and still seemed to thrive on danger. Harrison had long ago accepted the fact that sooner or later Charlie wouldn’t return from one of his missions.

For the sake of the world, he just hoped this wasn’t the one.

“Charlie warned it might take time to reach the princess,” Larsen said. “If he doesn’t make it out of there this month, he’ll come back next.”

Harrison nodded once. There was nothing to say to that. Charlie would make it or he wouldn’t. Unfortunately, if he didn’t return, they might never know his fate. He could be captured and imprisoned. Or enslaved. He could desperately need their help and they’d never know.

As his stomach threatened to turn into a mass of knots, he took a deep breath and forced the tension out with an exhale. In his mind, he retreated to that dark, colorless room devoid of emotion. Another breath. Calm, controlled.

“If it’s any consolation, I haven’t had any visions.”

He met Larsen’s gaze, understanding her meaning. Many of the Sitheen seemed to have inherited some kind of fairy gift from their Esri ancestors. Larsen foresaw death, the deaths of other Sitheen. No visions meant Charlie was still alive.

Probably.

“That’s something,” Harrison murmured.

Larsen gave him a hopeful little smile and turned away. But she’d gone no more than two steps when she suddenly jerked, as if she’d been struck.

Instinctively, Harrison’s gaze flew to the gate, assuming she’d seen something. But no dark forms leaped from the base of the fountain. Larsen swayed. Understanding hit him like a body slam. She was having a vision. Larsen was watching someone die.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, steadying her. “Jack!”

Jack Hallihan’s dark head snapped up, his body leaping into motion as he ran for his wife. As Jack pulled Larsen into his arms, he looked up, Harrison’s own despair mirrored in his eyes. Together, they waited to find out which of them she was watching die.

Please, God, don’t let it be Charlie. I can’t warn him. I can’t help him change his fate. Larsen finally stirred, turning her head to press one cheek against Jack’s shoulder, revealing a tear-streaked face as pale as any Esri’s.

“What did you see?” Jack asked softly, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

She lifted her hand to cover her mouth, as if struggling for control, and Harrison knew they weren’t going to like the answer. Finally, she pulled out of Jack’s embrace and swiped at the tears. Though visibly shaken, the woman was tough. With a deep, shuddering breath, she met their gazes, one after the other.

“I saw ten or twelve slaves come through the gate first, all shooting arrows. Fifteen or twenty Esri flew through after.” She opened her mouth to continue, then squeezed her eyes closed as more tears ran down her cheeks.

Jack gripped her shoulder, offering her strength as they both waited silently for her to continue. As bad as Harrison knew her vision had been, one thought kept racing through his head. So far, it was about them, not Charlie. And they could change it.

Larsen got control again and continued, her bottom lip unsteady. “Most of us die from arrows through the neck and head.”

“The vests aren’t going to be enough,” Jack murmured.

“No. And those who don’t die from the arrows, will be killed by Esri knives.”

Harrison’s neck felt stiff as he lifted his gaze to Jack’s, seeing in the cop’s eyes the same frustration he was feeling. A month’s worth of extensive planning and it was all going to be for nothing.

With a rough sigh, Harrison shook his head. “We need a plan B, and fast.”

“What about the fire ring?” Jack asked his wife. The firefighters were setting it up, even now. “Does it help at all?”

“I didn’t see any fire.”

Jack frowned, his gaze returning to Harrison’s. “What does that mean?”

“They have to be coming through early.”

Alarm flashed in the cop’s eyes. “I agree. They could be coming through any minute. And we’re going to need additional protection against the arrows.” He kissed his wife on the cheek, already springing into motion. “I can get us some helmets. And we’ll circle vehicles around the park to act as shields.” His voice floated back as he took off toward the police captain.

Harrison squeezed Larsen’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

She met his gaze with traumatized eyes. “It never gets any easier.”

Hatred clawed at his insides. “We’re going to stop them, Larsen. I swear it.” His gut clenched. “You didn’t…?” He couldn’t finish.

“I didn’t see Charlie. I think I would have, Harrison. I think I’d know if he’d died. He told you he’d return with a fairy princess on his arm, didn’t he? We have to believe he will. Princess Ilaria is our only hope.”

For the hundredth time, he thought of that painting some nineteenth-century Sitheen had painted of a woman he’d never known, a woman Kade later confirmed was Princess Ilaria. That pale, pale skin and hair. Those bright green eyes. If she weren’t Esri, he might have thought her beautiful.

She was their only hope. An Esri was their only hope, and what did that say about their chances of success?

That they were next to zero, that’s what. His fingers curled into fists inside his pockets.

Even if the Sitheen resistance survived the night’s battle, they were in deep trouble.

He reached once more for his cell phone.

If only Charlie would call.

Princess Ilaria stood in the dark field beneath a sky filled with a million stars, and saw nothing but the fire branded onto the backs of her eyelids and seared into her brain. Memories, just memories, but she shook just the same. The flames circling her, creeping up her gown, crawling over her fingers and hands, burning the flesh from her bones. Not real memories, for the fire had never been real, only visions the Forest of Nightmares had created for her, had brutalized her with. Visions that bombarded her mind, still, although she was finally free of that miserable place.

The icy wind tore at her gown, snowflakes stinging her face and hands even as perspiration rolled between her shoulder blades. With a violent shudder, she fought the clawing memories, pushing them back, trying to grasp the fact that after three hundred years, she was finally free of the prison King Rith had consigned her to. A place she’d feared she’d never leave.

Long, curly hair blew into her face, yet she could do nothing but turn her head to escape the blowing locks. Her shaking hands were still tied firmly behind her back. She willed her heart to cease its terrible pounding. There was no fire here. Not yet, though she knew the human realm to be filled with it. Humans used fire for everything—safety from wild animals, heat to keep warm, a means to cook their food. She’d learned to endure its presence when she’d lived here millennia ago. But that was before the Forest of Nightmares.

Another shudder tore through her. At this moment, there was no fire. Nothing at all but the two people who’d come through the gate from Esria with her. The pair who’d captured her. Freed her. A human male and the female slave he’d nearly traded Ilaria for.

Only minutes ago, the human had carried Ilaria from the clearing in which she’d lived with her guards for three centuries, into that vile forest, then through the newly opened gate to the human realm. A gate she herself had long ago sealed.

If the gate hadn’t been located so close to the prison, she’d never have made it. She was certain her mind would never survive the journey through the nightmares for any length of time again.

It had taken her years to recover the first time.

She glanced at the pair kissing passionately only a few yards away. The slave, a Marceillian priestess, was still dressed in the lavender ceremonial gown that must have once belonged to her ancestors. The Marceils, the slave race of Esria, resembled the humans with their dark hair and tanned skin, though the Marceils were quite a bit shorter. This one had somehow become un-enslaved until one of Ilaria’s guards caught her, shearing her hair from her head and stealing the power she’d raised against them.

The human had surprised them all, refusing to leave the little slave behind.

Interesting, but of little import. Of far more importance was that at last she was free to pursue revenge and retribution against the one who’d imprisoned her, the one who’d ordered her mother’s death then set himself upon the throne in the queen’s place. The vile, dangerous Caller, King Rith—the only man in Esria capable of calling the dark power for which the stones of Orisis had been created, and enslaving not only the human realm, but Esria as well.

Never had she known a more dangerous man. If only her mother had seen the truth behind that smile. If only the queen had heeded Ilaria’s warning. She lifted her chilled face, her gaze turning to the vastness of the human heavens and the million points of light. Fifteen hundred years had passed since she’d lifted her arms to the human sky and called down the magic to seal eleven of the twelve gates between the worlds, leaving behind not only the six evil green stones of Orisis, but also the blue draggon stone, the source of much of the queen’s power and the key that opened all the gates. Unable to seal them all, she’d obscured that final gate, one deep in the Banished Lands, hoping no Esri would ever find it. For fifteen centuries, none had until the Esri, Baleris, found his way through. A few months later, the draggon stone passed through the gate, only for a few minutes, but it was enough. The draggon stone was the key that unlocked all the gates. Now all twelve were open and she had no doubt King Rith had sent men to search for the stones.

Stopping him would be difficult, if not impossible, for she’d left the stones with a human. Now, fifteen centuries later, they could be anywhere in this vast world. She had to get her hands on them before Rith did if she wanted any chance of thwarting him. Which meant she must escape her captors.

Ilaria glanced again at the couple. The kissing had ended, but they remained huddled together, soft words catching on the chill breeze. Words of love and commitment. She ought to be surprised, perhaps, that a human would fall so completely for a Marceil. Humans tended to fear anything or anyone different than themselves.

Then again, she’d taken the measure of this particular slave and found her to be a woman of uncommon courage. The man clearly recognized that. Perhaps he was without the fears and prejudices of so many of his race. Perhaps, in fifteen centuries, the humans had changed.

Regardless, the pair were wasting time.

“Why did you capture me?” Ilaria asked loudly.

The male looked up, tucking the Marceil against his side. “We rescued you, Princess.” With a soft oath, he reached beneath his tunic and withdrew a…She didn’t have a word for it. Though language came to her automatically, she needed to touch a human, a non-Sitheen, to learn all the things humans knew.

Her captor touched the small gray rectangle repeatedly with his thumb, then scowled. “Phone’s dead,” he muttered. “The battery was designed to last, which means the magic probably fried it.”

He took the Marceil by the hand as he met Ilaria’s gaze. “Let’s get moving and I’ll explain as we walk. If we don’t find shelter soon, we’re going to freeze to death.” He grunted. “I’m going to freeze to death.” He was the only one of the three who wasn’t, from a human standpoint, immortal.

Without a second glance, the pair started off, leaving Ilaria standing in the snow. Rescued, he’d said. She hurried to catch up. “Why did you rescue me?” she demanded.

The man glanced back at her. “Were you the one who sealed the gates?”

She could deny it, but the very fact that he’d gone to such lengths to free her made it clear he already knew the answer.

“You wish me to seal them again?”

He nodded. “We have the seven stones.”

She nearly stumbled with surprise. They had them all, the six stones of Orisis and her own draggon stone. Astonishing, considering the number of human lifetimes that had passed. Hope bloomed within her. Stopping Rith might not be so difficult after all.

“You’ll return the stones to me, of course.”

He met her gaze, something hard entering his eyes. “We need your help, Princess, but you’ll forgive us if we have a hard time trusting the Esri. Any Esri. When we’re certain you mean to seal the gates, we’ll let you have the stones to do it. Until then, they’ll remain hidden.”

Her jaw compressed, anger sparking inside her. The only reason the humans had the stones was because she’d given them to them. They were hers, not theirs.

But the gleam of steel she glimpsed in the man’s eyes told her that no show of temper was likely to get her what she wanted.

Trust. She was going to have to win his trust. Which would take time she might not have.

With effort, she quieted her angry tongue. “Where are we?”

“I wish I knew. If I had to guess, I’d say northern Europe. Maybe Canada. It’s damn cold, wherever it is.”

“If you don’t know where we are, I assume that means the stones are a distance away?”

“They’re with my friends back in D.C. And the one thing I’m sure of is we’re not anywhere near D.C.”

“What is Dee Cee?”

“Washington, D.C. In the U.S.” He glanced at her and grimaced. “Hell, you don’t have any idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I do not.”

“It doesn’t matter. That’s where we’re going.”

She could ask for nothing more. “If I’m not your prisoner, then untie me, human. Walking with my hands behind my back is tedious.”

“It’s Charlie, not human, and this is Tarrys.” His voice softened, filling with a soft wonder as he glanced at the Marceil. “My soon-to-be wife.” He turned back to Ilaria, his expression hardening again. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I have a death mark or two.”