Fated to the Traitor (Portal City Protectors Book 4)

by Georgette St. Clair

  That made three hang-ups. Maybe Zoey needed to come up with a better way of delivering news to people and running away. It was obviously coming back to bite her in the ass.

  Of course, that thought came right when a notification from SpellBook hit her phone. “Silva the Queen Dilda (Get It!)” had posted a photo with her caption.

  Zoey couldn’t help but cackle. No matter what, she loved her damn friends.

  Then, ’cause karma is a bitch, the front door slammed open and Isadora screamed bloody murder as shit started flying around the room.

  This was not Zoey’s day. Not at all.

  Maybe she was really was Mia Farrow.

  “Zoey!”

  “She’s not here right now, but if you leave a message after the beep with your name and phone number, she’ll get back to you. Beep.”

  “My mate had better get herself in front of me right now before I come and find her. Days without orgasms would seem like heaven compared to what I’ll do if she doesn’t.”

  Zoey’s legs shook. She might not have been too against Dominic’s “punishments,” if she was honest with herself. He always made it unbelievably worth it in bed.

  “Maybe she’d be persuaded if you shortened it to one hour without orgasms and then ten days of constant ones?”

  “That’s not even possible, Zoey.”

  “This is Zoey’s answering service.”

  Dominic pounded up the stairs, and Zoey ducked and screamed when a rock slammed into the wall to her left.

  “Zoey?”

  “Um, we may have a situation.”

  Dominic came into the room, and only his shifter senses saved him from being scalped by another rock.

  He ducked. “What the fuck is going on here?”

  “Surprise? We have demons.”

  “That isn’t even funny.”

  “Says the man who allows his daughter to be called Rosemary’s baby!”

  “She freaking levitated out of her crib, Zoey. Levitated!”

  “And now she’s playing dodgeball with stuff.”

  Dominic blinked and finally looking at Isadora. She twirled her hands again to send toys and her stones flying around the room.

  “Is she doing this?”

  “Yep. I’d pick her up, but I’m afraid of how she’ll react.”

  Dominic sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Stay where you’re safe. I’ll get her.”

  She nodded, completely fine with that idea. Dominic stalked toward his daughter, and Zoey felt the familiar pressure of his Alpha call rolling out. Another wilder and hotter call met his.

  Zoey gasped. “Is that her?”

  “Yes. Just be happy you aren’t a subordinate wolf right now.”

  Dominic, though, didn’t look any worse for wear and lifted his daughter out of the crib. The moment he tucked her against his chest and began to growl in his low and soft way, she slowly quieted.

  “Is that the wolf form of a purr?”

  Dominic rolled his eyes. “No, we aren’t cats. To be honest, it’s a wolf shifter’s adaptive form of licking. An older wolf’s lick can soothe pups when they are scared or hurt. She was screaming she was scared.”

  “She didn’t make a sound.”

  “Her wolf did, and I could hear it.”

  Watching Dominic hold his daughter to his chest, rocking her back and forth as he cradled her head with his large hand, was one of the most beautiful sights Zoey ever had ever seen. Being a mother made all the fear, pain, and stress of the last few months of her pregnancy and delivery worth it.

  She’d do it again, instantly.

  And his love for Isadora made her heart so happy.

  “I think I want another baby.”

  Dominic jerked. “What?”

  Oh, I said that out loud. “I just like seeing you hold her.”

  He laughed. “I’d rather make sure we know what’s going on with her before we have another.”

  “You sure? We could practice right now while no one is here.”

  “Zoey,” he growled. “I’m not forgetting about the Blood Pact you told me about. Don’t mistake my not taking you against the nearest surface until you scream the truth to mean I won’t ask about it.”

  Wow, that’s a nice visual.

  “Well, there’s not much more to tell. During the delivery, Zahara linked us to make me stronger so I could survive the birth. By doing it, she unlocked Isadora’s Witch Doctor gift, hence her telekinetic show.”

  “Wait, are you saying my daughter is an Alpha-born female and a Witch Doctor?”

  “That’s what I’m saying, yes. The Witch Doctor gift is to help keep her wolf in check as much as possible. As she gets a bit bigger, Zahara will teach her to use it to control her wolf’s urges as best she can.”

  Dominic pinched his nose and stood with Isadora in his arms. She was asleep now, her head resting on his shoulder. Once he had her laid down, he turned back to Zoey.

  “She’s unlike anything ever born before, Zoey. The Council … they’ll look into her.”

  Zoey’s heart dropped to her feet. “They can’t. Remember what they did to Kalinda? They like that sort of power.”

  “Kalinda is the leader of the Trinity Council, so we can keep this quiet for as long as possible, put her in school with only shifters. But if word gets out, it’s the National Council I worry about. There’s never been a wolf and mage union. The fact that I am a wolf and child of a mage will cause enough problems as it is. It’s proof our kinds can mix, Zoey. Proof there is no real separation between us and what that could mean for the power balance.”

  Zoey shivered. “She’s just a baby.”

  Dominic pulled her into his arms. “I won’t let anyone come for her. Ever. But we have to be smart. She’s going to have to be our best-kept secret for as long as possible.”

  Without meaning to, Zoey linked with Dominic, wanting that deeper connection to soothe her. His unflappable belief he’d do anything to protect them blasted across their tie. She relaxed, burying her face in his chest.

  “Wonder if you’ll feel what I do if you connect while I’m inside you,” Dominic whispered in her ear.

  “Want to go try that out?”

  Daddy, hungry. Kill something.

  “What was that?”

  Dominic sighed. “Our daughter, who seems to be hungry. I suppose we’ll have to wait until later to experiment.”

  Chapter Five

  “You have a Foraltae?” Eiravel couldn’t have looked more confused if Heath had just slapped him with a wet fish and told him he’d better come back from the corner with Heath’s money.

  Yep, that’s pretty much how Heath felt too.

  “Yes, and she’s in,” he pointed to a far-off point that looked like everywhere else, “that direction.”

  Cynes squinted his eyes. “Is that who you were looking at a moment ago?”

  Heath nodded. “I don’t know how, but she appeared before me.”

  “Did she give you anything more to go on?”

  Other than a body that made me want to take her right then, no. “She couldn’t stay long enough. She looked scared.”

  Eiravel snapped his gaze to meet Heath’s. “What do you mean, ‘scared?’”

  “I don’t really know how to explain it. She was here, with me, and then she looked back in that direction and said she had to go. I can feel it.”

  Eiravel stared at him. “Your fangs are marked.”

  A sign of the impending Fate joining. Every Unseelie gained markings matching the color in their eyes in thin patterns across their fangs when they met their Fate. The same symbols would print on their mate. Heath had learned that as a babe. Males who’d met their Fate but hadn’t claimed her could be particularly dangerous to others.

  When he’d been taken to the Seraph lands of the Seelie, he’d lost all hope of ever having the chance to find his Fate. Well, that was if he could even trust his memories. But he knew what he’d been taught. He couldn’t be wrong. His soul cried out to
be near her, to claim her and make her his. There was no denying that.

  “We all know the signs of the Unseelie, what that means. We inherently understood Heart Tethering and how to use our gifts. That can’t be a lie,” Eiravel surmised as if reading Heath’s mind.

  “We’ll figure out the rest. When I was pulled in here, a voice told me I’d find my truth here. Perhaps my Fate has something to do with it.”

  Cynes tucked his bow over his shoulder. “A voice?”

  Heath nodded. “It’s what helped me heal. It sounds crazy as shit, but I can’t deny it’s been right so far.”

  “I believe you.” Eiravel lifted his chin, posturing his confidence in Heath. “So we push forward. At least we have some way of knowing where we should go. Kallan and Teague must be reached.”

  “I tried to use the Heart Tether but couldn’t connect. I can try again.”

  “We might as well. If your Fate is being held hostage or in danger, the more we have on our side, the better. We’ve traveled a bit of distance, so it may be simpler to use the Tether.”

  Heath nodded and closed his eyes. Accessing the Heart Tether only took a thought under normal circumstances, but it was like swimming through tar to reach them now. He could only touch Eiravel’s and Cynes’s, but they were close. Kallan and Teague were not.

  “I can see them, but I can’t connect.”

  “But if it’s easier than it was before, we’re heading in the right direction. Only mapping small sections of the In Between is putting us at a loss now,” Cynes grumbled.

  “Then record it. Do you have any Mark Stones?” Hope swelled in Heath’s chest at the possibility.

  Cynes could make precious stones and metal do anything—within the limits of his power. One of the first feats he’d accomplished was using a stone he’d created from diamond and inlaid with onyx. Looking through the stone provided the viewer with maps on each facet.

  “Already on it. The minute Eiravel and I found you, I activated the stone. Eventually, when we connect with something familiar, the maps will meld. If not, we will at least have this space charted.”

  Heath nodded, thankful he had his men with him. “Cynes, I want you to scout ahead. Use the stone for about a ten-mile radius. We need to know more about the terrain.”

  Eiravel shifted. “Is it a good idea to split up? If he’s attacked, there’s no one to back him up.”

  “Are you saying I can’t handle myself in a fight, brother?”

  “No, I’m saying you have a way of enticing a battle just because you can. Someone has to be there to snatch your ass back.”

  Cynes flashed a smile. “Can’t argue with that, but this is different. I will stay out of anything as long as I can and just work on charting the terrain. Set up camp. I can mark the stone to find my way back.”

  Heath would have much rather pushed ahead, but he knew rushing forward blindly would only hurt them. For now, he just had to pray his Fate was as safe as possible until he could get to her. He didn’t think karma would be so ugly as to take her before he had the chance to know her.

  Cynes loped away, the Mark Stone embedded into the chest plate of his armor.

  “We don’t have anything to build a fire with, but we may rest in the trees. At least the leaves will hide us from anything that may want to catch us unaware,” Eiravel surmised.

  “Let’s go.”

  Since he’d assumed his Unseelie form, Heath didn’t have to feign hunger or eating. In fact, much like the daywalkers who hailed from them, Unseelie could survive long stretches of time without food or blood. The In Between wasn’t devoid of life, but most of the animals they wouldn’t be good for consumption, anyway.

  The chaos that survived here would change their forms to pure magic, and ingesting them would only make Heath and his men sick as they traveled. It wasn’t exactly like this was a planned excursion. He followed Eiravel to the line of trees off the narrow path they’d congregated on.

  As they climbed, Heath spotted several branches up higher he knew would take their weight while they rested. There was no day or night in the In Between—just a constant wash of gray. He used spirit to anchor himself to the tree so he wouldn’t fall and break his neck.

  A Foraltae. He never would have thought it would happen, not in a million years. The world had been too unkind to him, a smorgasbord of ugly moments tied together by hatred. He’d lost Lorenzo, Cin, the Lombardi Pack, his home, and even his identity.

  Even walking around in his natural form seemed odd. He wasn’t accustomed to his height, or the way his hair tickled the back of his neck sometimes when he moved. The weight of his sins and mistakes on his shoulders was sometimes too much to carry.

  “The sound of your brain grinding gears is loud enough for even me to hear, Kieran.”

  “Heath.”

  Eiravel shifted, the leaves swaying and the branch groaning under his weight. “What?”

  “My name, it’s Heath. It’s no different than Niamh going by Silva or you using Roderick when you were helping me hide in Encantado.”

  “Aye, except I did it only to make sure I could fit in, and my ability to hide among the mages and shifters was not as gifted as yours.”

  No, not many could use the glamour the way Heath did. It was a gift to his shadow, allowing him to mimic what he’d come into contact with. It wasn’t all-powerful, like when he’d fought Silva with fire against her metal. He’d only be able to use it for several hours at most before he had to fall back into his shadow. Heath had worked on his glamour for several years before he began running with the street urchins.

  When it failed, he’d find somewhere to hide only long enough to catch his breath before he used it once more. Cin had nearly caught him once, and he’d had to hide his ear under a cap for a few days until he restored his reserves.

  His gut dropped at the thought of her. He may not have loved her the way she’d hoped—he’d never had those feelings for her—but he’d cared for her, loved her like a sister. Heath had found himself distrustful of Lorenzo when he first appeared on the scene until he knew the youth was true. Still, he longed to be part of a family once more. The time he spent with them had been the best of his life. Once he knew what he believed he’d survived as Kieran wasn’t all of what it seemed, he’d struggled with holding the moniker.

  “Why don’t you want to be called by your name? It’s a sign of who you are.”

  Every Fae’s name had some connection to their gift. Eiravel meant “sharp sword,” a testament to his battle prowess. Cynes mean “onyx heart.” And Kieran … Kieran meant “dark.” He was the darkest of shadow.

  But …

  “I crave the light.”

  It seemed to be enough for Eiravel, and Heath was happy he didn’t have to explain more.

  “If I were my twin, I’d make some remark about needing a flashlight or you couldn’t find your ass with both hands, but I am not him. All I can offer you is rest. Sleep, Heath. Maybe in dreams you can find you Foraltae, your light.”

  Fuck, I hope so.

  The wind kissed his skin, a cool lick calming the sun’s heat blazing over his neck. Heath squinted his eyes, his back aching as he chopped wood. The days were sweaty balls, but once the dual moons filled the sky in Seraph, he’d shrivel from the cold. Building a fire in his hearth would help fight the chill.

  A fire?

  He frowned. Heath didn’t own a home. Never had, but the steady fall of the axe calmed him. Sweat slid down his exposed back, and his white pants hung loose around his hips, damp from exertion.

  What idiot wears white while working outside?

  Apparently, him. Heath shook his head, trying to clear it, but he kept chopping.

  Whack. Whack. Whack.

  He’d done this a thousand times, splitting the wood into perfect halves before doing it once more, creating perfectly sized logs for his fire.

  “I think that is enough.”

  He froze. Her.

  Damned if he didn’t have to breathe thr
ough the sudden angry swell of his cock. He wasn’t some teenager, stiffening at a breeze, but her voice was an instrument of hot sex and sweaty sheets. He couldn’t get the image of her out of his head: sea-colored hair spread out over his black sheets, eyes wide as he tossed her legs over his shoulders.

  Finally, when he thought he had his dick marginally under control, he turned.

  And the lie detector test determined that was a lie.

  It took everything he had to stop himself from snatching her off her delicate little feet, slamming her into the nearest surface, and plundering her mouth.

  I wonder how good she’ll taste.

  “I … I do not know how I am here.” She looked behind her, into the house.

  Our house, his mind blasted to him.

  “Is this Seraph?”

  At her uttered words, the scene changed, colors washing by them at rapid speed. In seconds, they were standing in the center of a startling white building, high archways overhead, and the marbled floor was inlaid with glittering diamonds and silver.

  Heath spun around. “Where are we?”

  His Fate turned pale, her mouth going slack before she closed her eyes, gripping her hair in her fingers and screaming. The world blitzed again, hard enough to make him nauseous, and they were back in the yard surrounded by chopped wood and his axe to the side, forgotten.

  “What the fuck?”

  He stalked toward her. Afraid his hand would pass through her again, he hesitated but was unable to stop himself from reaching out to her. Warm. Solid. Real. Her heated skin was smooth under his fingers, shimmering with pearlescent colors over gold.

  Beautiful.

  Heath pulled her to his chest. “I’ve got you, baby. Look at me.”

  She kept her face buried in his chest. At full height, she was petite and small against him—so fragile that he feared breaking her. Her slim shoulders quaked with emotion he couldn’t place. He needed her to look at him, to share.

  Give me your pain.

  “Look at me baby,” he ordered softly, using two fingers to lift her face.