The Enchanted: Council of Seven Shifter Romance Collection

by Juniper Hart

  She half hoped they would shift in front of the crowded bar, so it would be the end of them once and for all.

  Imagine being rid of these assholes forever, she mused. Maybe I can antagonize them enough to make it happen. If they shift, they’ll be sentenced to execution for showing themselves to the mortals.

  It was a dark thought, but one Wren would never follow through on. She didn’t wish death on anyone. No matter how much they might deserve it.

  “Hello?” Pearson howled in a singsong tone. “We’re waiting for our—”

  “Buddy, you are the most obnoxious asshole I’ve seen in a long time,” someone interjected before Pearson could finish his clamoring.

  Wren’s head whipped up, and she looked at the stranger in surprise, her heart beginning to hammer in her chest. It wouldn’t be the first time a good Samaritan had tried to step in and save her from a rude customer, but this was an entirely different situation. Things could get ugly very quickly.

  “Uh, what?” Pearson laughed, looking at Wren in disbelief. “What did he just say?” Wren shook her head, her eyes huge.

  “It’s fine,” she told the stranger quickly. “He’s harmless.”

  “Did he just call me obnoxious?” Pearson asked dubiously, staring at the man. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

  “What can I get you?” Wren asked the man, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She could sense things were about to go horribly awry, but the outspoken guy at the bar was still fixated on the twins, his blazing green eyes flashing ominously at them as they neared him menacingly.

  “You might want to get out of my personal space,” he intoned, not a modicum of fear on his face while Pearson and Preston advanced on him. Their posse closed in, and Wren had had enough.

  “Pearson, Preston, get the hell out!” she roared, her face red with anger. “Now!”

  “Make us,” the twins chorused. Suddenly, they balked. A look of recognition flooded their faces as they stared at Wren’s rescuer. A weird period of slow-motion seemed to ensue, and the man’s penetrating eyes bored into the twins. He didn’t say a word—it clearly wasn’t necessary. For the first time in her life, Wren read fear in their faces.

  “Oh…” Preston stuttered. “W-we should go.” He nudged his brother, and the two almost tripped over their minions as they spun to flee, leaving Wren to gawk after them in confusion.

  She peered over her shoulder at Christiana, but her co-worker was too busy looking at the handsome stranger who had apparently scared off the twins with his oozing masculinity. Although Christiana’s mouth was agape, no words escaped, and Wren was left feeling slightly uneasy by what had transpired.

  Who is this guy? She was partially sure he was a Lycan, but that in itself shouldn’t have been enough to get the twins to back off. There was clearly something else that had alarmed them about the stranger.

  “Could I trouble you for a drink?” he asked, and Wren nodded, unsure of what else to do.

  “Yeah,” she agreed quickly. “What’ll be?”

  “A double scotch, neat.”

  She hurried to fix the concoction, her peripheral vision still on him as she tried to understand what had happened. Again, she looked to Christiana, but the tiny Filipina had moved toward the far end of the bar to catch up on the waiting orders.

  Wren returned, slipping the tumbler toward the man, and he slid a fifty-dollar bill toward her. Wren shook her dark curls so that they slapped at the corners of her full mouth gently. “It’s on me. I’ve never seen anyone move those morons out of here so fast—even while using force.”

  He snickered, his even teeth flashing against the strobe lighting.

  “Well,” he chuckled. “I guess I’m not just anyone.”

  The words inexplicably gave Wren a rush of excitement as she studied his face pensively. While she stared, she realized that there was something familiar about him, but before she could put her finger on it, he turned and stalked away, leaving the fifty on the counter.

  “Hey!” she yelled after him. “Wait! I’ll get your change, at least!”

  But he had already disappeared into the crowd, leaving Wren gaping after him.

  What the hell was that all about? she wondered. There was no time to ponder what had happened. She quickly rang in the drink and put the change safely aside and away from her tips for when he returned. She wasn’t going to take a tip that large from a man when he was the one who had saved her night from ruination at the hands of the Sylvan twins.

  She wondered if Christiana knew who he was. Wren didn’t have the chance to ask her as the club grew busier. The only thing that was certain was that the twins were gone, and Wren was spared one more night of being reminded that they existed.

  And I didn’t even get to thank him properly.

  She secretly hoped that she would find another chance to do it, but she didn’t see the stranger again that night. It was like he had only come to the club to save her and then had disappeared into thin air again.

  It was four-thirty in the morning when Wren finally had a moment to sit down and clear her head.

  “Is it just me, or are Friday nights becoming more and more unbearable?” Christiana asked, flopping down at a table beside her. The girl’s face was flushed and exhausted. She dropped a drink in front of Wren, who finished counting her tips and accepted it gratefully.

  “We’re too old for this,” Wren agreed, grunting at the memory. “How many years have nightclubs been a thing now, Chris?”

  “Too long,” her friend replied, taking a long swig of her own concoction. She downed the liquid in one gulp and rose to get another one behind the abandoned bar. “Oh,” Christiana groaned. “I shouldn’t have sat down.”

  “Hey, Chris,” Wren called as Christiana shuffled around the back of the bar.

  “Hm?”

  “Did you know that guy who scared off the Sylvans earlier?” Christiana paused and glanced at her, surprise coloring her delicate features.

  “Seriously?” she asked, her eyebrows almost to her hairline. “You didn’t recognize him?”

  “He looked familiar… kind of,” Wren said slowly. “But give me a break. How many thousands of people come through here?”

  Christiana laughed and reached for the vodka, pouring it straight into her glass without a mixer.

  “He’s not from here—at least, I’ve never really noticed him in here before.” She took a long sip and smacked her lips before speaking again. “He’s one of the Seven.”

  Blood drained out of Wren’s face, and she looked around nervously to ensure they weren’t being overheard. The rest of the staff wasn’t anywhere in earshot.

  “What?” she gasped. “T-that was Landon Burke?”

  “The one and only,” Christiana giggled. Wren could tell the alcohol was going directly to her head already. The combination of exhaustion and intoxication was making her act silly. “Glad he was here, although I’m shocked he intervened at all,” Christiana continued, echoing Wren’s own thoughts.

  “Me too.” There was no earthly reason that the head of the Lycans on the Council of Seven would bother with her or Christiana.

  “He was probably just on a power trip, flexing his muscles. He’s full of it,” Christiana offered. “It had nothing to do with us.”

  “You’re probably right,” Wren said, but her mind was on the ridiculous tip he’d left for her.

  Or maybe he didn’t know who I was, either, she reasoned. In any case, it didn’t matter. She had maybe seen Landon Burke ten times in her extended life, and she was sure she wasn’t apt to see him again anytime soon.

  “I’m definitely right,” Christiana insisted. “If he had any idea we’re part of the Elliot Bay Pack, he would have kept his mouth shut and let the twins continue with their harassment.”

  Wren shuddered at the thought and exhaled.

  “Come on, ladies,” Saul called, his massive body appearing at the exit. “Time to shut this party down until tomorrow.”

  “
Can’t wait!” Christiana muttered, slopping back her drink and dropping the glass into the washer. She started it, and Wren rose to follow her co-workers out of the darkened nightclub. “We need to find new jobs,” Christiana whispered as they stopped at Wren’s car. “I’m not sure how much longer I can do this, Wren.”

  “I feel you,” she mumbled, but she was only half-listening. Her thoughts were still on Landon Burke, as they had been all night long.

  2

  Landon had a headache, aggravated by the fact that Morris and Evie wouldn’t stop arguing about the new layouts for the advertising campaign.

  “It should be blue and red, not red and white,” Evie insisted. “I did the market research, and—”

  “And I’m telling you that if you want a diverse audience, you don’t want to alienate the women with the blue.”

  “You’re being misogynistic if you think women can’t like blue.”

  “I’m being realistic, Evie. Modern woman or not, subliminally, everyone links blue with masculinity. Red is powerful, magnetic, and appeals to both sexes—”

  “Go with the red,” Landon intoned. “What’s next?”

  They looked at him, blinking.

  “Uh… the copywriter sent the Torres speech to the editor. It should be back—”

  “Next!” Landon waved his hand as if to move the meeting along. “Anything that is pressing and won’t keep until tomorrow?”

  Morris and Evie shook their heads in unison, glancing down at their notes to be sure. Landon rose from his desk. “Fine. Get out. I have work to do.”

  They jumped to their feet and hurriedly collected their papers before obliging his order. Evie paused at the doorway and looked back at him. “Landon, I really think that the blue—”

  “Get out.”

  She whirled around and almost ran as though she had been expecting such a response.

  Of course she was expecting that response, Landon thought. What other one would I give? Why am I babysitting two little pricks fighting about primary colors when I’m the damned CEO of this company? He turned to his phone and dialed out.

  “Kendra, I’m going for lunch. Reschedule my afternoon meetings. I won’t be back.” There was a long silence. “Kendra?”

  “Uh… it’s ten o’clock, Mr. Burke.”

  “So it is,” he replied. “Have a good day.” He disconnected the call, rubbing his fingers along the edges of his temples. I can heal from a stab wound in hours, but overcoming a migraine? No chance, huh? And the Council thinks we’ve evolved.

  He grabbed his jacket and umbrella, heading out of the office with his headset connected to his personal phone. He dialed out again, pressing the elevator call button.

  Jasmine answered on the third ring. “What’s up, Landon? I’m just in between clients.”

  “I was hoping you could squeeze me in today,” he told his friend. “I’ve got another migraine.”

  “Another one?” Jasmine sighed. “They’ve been getting worse these past months, huh?”

  “Can you fit me in today or are you booked solid?”

  “I’m booked, Lando, but you can come at five. Can you wait that long?” He grimaced at the pet name and scowled.

  “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” he muttered.

  “You’re welcome, you douche,” Jasmine retorted. “I could have said no.”

  “I’m grateful,” he growled, even though he didn’t feel it. “I’m just in pain.”

  “Hang in there. Try to sleep it off. Oh, and maybe lay off the drinking?”

  “Thanks, doc. You’re wasting your talents as a massage therapist, Jazzy.” He hung up as the lift arrived, not in the mood to battle it out anymore with Laurel’s wife, and descended the high-rise into the parking lot, where he found his Tesla gleaming under the fluorescent lighting of the parking garage. The red paint, normally his pride in a stunning crimson, only served to fuel his headache, and he wished he could turn down the color if only for an hour.

  In his ear, his phone rang. “Landon Burke.”

  “You’ve got a headache again?” Laurel asked. “Jas called me.”

  “It’s not a big deal. Probably just stress knots in my neck.”

  “Come over and soak in the hot tub. I’ll have Celia make up the guest room for you. You can sleep it off.”

  Normally, Landon would have argued, but the fairies’ house was much closer to his offices, and he didn’t really feel like driving when he couldn’t see. “On my way.”

  He hopped into the driver’s side and peeled out of the parking lot louder than he had intended, cringing as he did.

  It took him less than ten minutes to reach Laurel and Jasmine’s sprawling bungalow in Kirkland. The iron gates were already open, and Laurel waited for him at the door, her arms folded over her ample chest as she stared at him curiously, her dark eyes raking over his face.

  “Should I call Lane and have her create an infusion for you?” Laurel demanded as soon as he climbed out of the car. “You look like shit.”

  “No!” Landon snapped. “You’re not calling the kid to doctor me.”

  “I can call another witch—”

  “Stop fussing over me, Laurel,” he said. “I’m fine. I just need a massage, and I’ll be okay. It always does the trick.”

  Laurel scowled at him. “Sorry for trying to help, you ass.”

  Landon grunted and shoved past her, not wanting to get into a squabble. Manners were the last thing on his mind at the moment.

  He stripped off his suit jacket as he stalked toward the backyard, his fingers fumbling against the buttons of his shirt, discarding them down the hall. He wasn’t sure if Laurel was behind him or not, but he was comfortable enough inside the fairies’ house that he didn’t need an escort.

  True to her word, Laurel had started the hot tub, and Landon dropped both his pants and underwear before climbing over the edge of the tub.

  “Your ass is skinny,” Laurel called from behind him. “You need to eat more. No wonder you’re getting headaches all the time.”

  “You’re wasting your talents as a fairy,” he bit back. “You’re clearly a nagging Lycan grandmother.”

  Laurel scoffed and made her way over to the side, leaning her face upon her palms as she rested her elbows on the molded shell to look at him.

  Landon sank his shoulders against the pulsating jets and exhaled at the feeling of the pressure against his sore muscles. He closed his eyes, relishing the temporary relief the hot water was giving him. He vowed to get a hot tub for himself, no matter what the condo board had to say about it. Rules were meant to be broken, after all.

  I live a charmed life. What are my muscles so tense for?

  “You’re under a lot of stress,” Laurel commented after a silent minute. “What’s going on?”

  He cracked his lids apart. “What stress?” he demanded. “My life is perfect.”

  “You’re social media perfect,” Laurel snorted. “You want everyone to think you’re doing great, but we both know you’re falling apart inside.”

  Landon laughed genuinely, his green eyes fully open now.

  “Seriously?” he snickered. “Am I falling apart? How’s that? With my billion-dollar advertising company, stock portfolio, six-million-dollar condo—”

  “Yeah, yeah, Landon, we all know you’re doing great financially, but something’s obviously missing, or you wouldn’t be getting these headaches.”

  “I’m getting these headaches because I have too many people on my ass all the time,” he shot back. “I can’t even have a migraine in peace without someone hovering over me.”

  Laurel smirked at him. “Fine. Suffer alone, Landon. Call Celia if you need anything. I’m going back to work, but if you want to talk—”

  “I really don’t,” Landon assured her. “I want to soak, sleep, and get your wife to massage these damned knots out of my body. Precisely in that order.”

  “Gods forbid I stand in your way.” Laurel waggled her fingers at him and
disappeared back into the house.

  Landon exhaled slowly as she did, not realizing until that moment that he had been speaking the truth—her presence had been stressing him out more than he knew. Maybe it was the fact that the headaches worried him more than he cared to admit.

  It wouldn’t be hard to have one of the Aldwin witches create an infusion for him to overcome the pain, but that would mean asking Lane for help, and their history wasn’t great. Now that she had coupled with Henry, her powers were twice as potent, and whatever spell she might cast would undoubtedly be solid. But doing that would ensure that both Lane and her vampire mate knew Landon’s weakness. Given their rocky relationship, he wasn’t sold on the idea. Landon admitted that the friction between them was his fault, but that was of little consequence now. If things got much worse, he would ask her, and a potion would likely cure whatever it was that was ailing him.

  The problem was that, in the fifteen hundred years that he’d been alive, he had never encountered anything like these migraines. The pain was an indication that something was terribly amiss with him, but what could it possibly be? He’d never known Lycans to suffer something like this before, and he was afraid to bring it up to anyone he knew.

  After all, he was the alpha of the Puget Sound Pack and a member of the Council. He couldn’t let anyone know he was experiencing any weakness. They would smell blood in the water and leave him vulnerable to a coup.

  Not that one has ever been successful, he thought, but still, I don’t want the others getting their testosterone rising through the roof.

  The only beings Landon trusted were the Queens of the Fairies, Laurel and Jasmine, who had no reason to sell him out for their own gain. The fairies had never competed for power like the others in the past, their way gentler and more nurturing than the other shifters and sorceresses. It was as though Alaric Aldwin had created them to ensure balance among all the beings. Although Laurel was a hard personality, her heart was pure, and Jasmine was the same. The two were healers, despite their endless lectures.