by Cecy Robson
He bends, parting the limbs of the octopus gown and leaning in for one hell of a kiss.
It must be love, ’cause damn.
I crawl forward. “Destiny,” I call. “Destiny, please.”
“Destiny?”
“Destiny!”
Son of a bitch.
Several long and awkward seconds later, they come up for air. She giggles against his lips. “Are you saying we shouldn’t go down to the party and spend the night here instead?”
Tye tugs on her bottom lip with his teeth, smearing her purple lipstick on his teeth. “Hell yeah?” he mutters.
I reach out a hand when the room rocks from side to side, and they go in for another kiss. I exert my magic, trying my best to focus on my power and not the sway of the room. “Hear me, oh great and magical Destiny,” I beg. “I need your help to save the Mate and child.”
Their kiss is all they know. There’s tongue. Jesus God, lots and lots of tongue.
The audible sounds of their smooching can’t be real. It has to be the result of a spell or some other shit. “Destiny,” I call out. “Celia Wird Connor, the Mate and Carrier of the Unborn Savior of Good, needs you.”
I’m struggling to maintain the formal verbiage needed to magically call someone. They don’t make it easy.
Tye releases a sucker or whatever the fuck he’s holding in his hand and trails his fingers along the bodice of her strapless number.
“Seriously?” I ask. “Hey. Hey. I’m standing right here.” OMG…and there’s a nipple.
Tye cups her breast, lowers his mouth, and…I groan. “For fuck’s sake!”
Destiny breaks away from Tye and pulls up her dress. “Taran?”
I almost cry with relief. “Yes, dammit.”
Both turn from side to side. “Where are you?” Tye asks.
“In the room,” I yell. “I need help—Celia needs help. Something is after her.”
They peer toward the door, and to the ceiling, and then on the floor in the opposite direction of where I’m barely keeping it together. “Here,” I yell. “I’m next to the table.”
They turn fast, blinking. Destiny stretches out her hands. “I can’t sense her anywhere. Can you, pookie cub?” she asks.
Tye shakes his head. “I can’t even smell her.” He hurries toward the table, searching blindly with his palms out.
“Here,” I say. I wince when he smacks me in the head. “You just hit me in the head.”
He scans the room, growling. “Taran, your voice is coming from all directions. It’s like you’re everywhere and nowhere at once.”
“Forget me,” I say. “Just get to Celia.”
Tye whips off his tuxedo jacket and shirt. “Des, take care of Taran—I’ll get the others.” He bounds toward the wall and only the wall. The door leading out is gone. All the doors have vanished, as have the windows, and any way out.
“What the fuck?” he yells. His fists pound against the plaster. Instead of cracking the walls and breaking through, the walls reverberate as if he’s banging rubber. He roars, calling and warning the pack.
“They can’t hear you, cubbie,” Destiny says quietly. Her eyes close, and her arms raise, level with the floor. The octopi limbs elevate, quivering as Destiny reaches out to the magic cursing the room. The makeup she’s wearing gives her a skull-like appearance. She chants in a language I don’t recognize, beautiful and deadly, gentle and manic, and oh-so-very Destiny.
Magic seeped with the aroma of licorice spreads and engulfs the suite, hammering the foreign power that’s invading the house. An invisible force lifts me, and the tips of my feet skim along the floor. I cover my head, preparing for the worse.
“Yield,” she yells, bringing down her fists hard to her side.
The room crashes down, and I with it. I roll to a stop at their feet.
I don’t even get my bearings when Tye lifts me by the shoulders in one move. “What’s happening?” he demands.
“The house,” I stammer, still feeling the effects of the dizzying room. “The spells…they’re turning them against us.”
“Who is?” Tye asks.
I rub my face, trying to shake the nausea. “Nytes. That’s all I know. Please. We have to get to Celia.”
“No!” Destiny says.
At first, I think she’s denying me, but then something changes in her features. She backs away, anger and fear bleaching her pallor.
“Des?” Tye asks. He hurries toward us when she doesn’t answer. “Baby, what is it?”
Her focus bounces between us. “They’re here,” she says, her voice splintering with emotion. “They’re all here for Celia.”
The severity of her tone hollows Tye’s voice. “Christ,” he says.
She swallows hard as her gaze drinks every bit of Tye in. “I love you,” she tells him. “Whatever you do, do not leave the house.”
Destiny’s figure disintegrates into a cloud of black and white. She jets in the direction of where the French doors once stood and vanishes.
“Des!”
Like me, Tye knows she just told us goodbye.
Chapter Four
Tye roars, his anger sinking into the terrifying sound. “Fuck.”
“No shit,” I say. “But Destiny’s not alone. She has us, we just have to get out of here.”
The aroma of licorice and spice fills the room, creating a sparkling cloud. It passes along the wall, clearing out the curse veiling our surroundings and outlining the transparent image of the door now several yards behind us. The room alters with each pass, darkening the bed frame and altering the bed linens from stark white to gold. It transforms into an entirely different suite. I ignore the alternating shapes of the chairs table and furniture, fixing on the way out that Destiny revealed.
“What the actual hell is going on here?” Tye asks. “Destiny’s magic is everywhere, but so is all this shit.”
He curses again when the door shifts to a new spot. I’m not waiting for it to move again. I take off, sprinting past my suite and Emme’s.
Ahead of me, a vamp rests his back against the wall, smoking a cigar as his leer locks onto a Lesser witch’s throat.
“Celia Connor is in danger,” I yell.
The vampire pushes away from the wall. “The Mate, Celia Connor is here,” he says. “Shall we continue our talk later in my bed?”
For all I think he heard me, he doesn’t react with the urgency I expect.
The Lesser smiles, toying with the long strand of his ebony hair. She thinks she has him where she wants him. I hate to tell her she absolutely doesn’t. “Perhaps, perhaps not. I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“Did you hear what I said?” I don’t quite finish speaking when my feet grow heavy and start sticking to the stupid floor. I curse loudly, and no one can blame me. Destiny’s counterspell lessens the farther I am from her suite.
A furious roar bellows behind me. My feet are getting heavier, and my steps are slowing, but at least I’m still moving. Tye, now an immense white lion, is glued to the floor. He snarls furiously, ripping a paw free with a barbarous jerk.
Agony leaks into his growls. Chunks of flesh and muscle are left embedded into the floor, and blood spews from his paw.
“Don’t place your foot back down,” I tell him. My eyes widen when I realize he doesn’t immediately start to heal. The magic corrupting the house is affecting the witches and the weres.
I’m on my own again, but I won’t let it stop me. I slam my right hand on the floor and release several bolts of lightning. Instead of penetrating and singeing the wood, they bounce and zigzag down the hall.
“Tye!”
Tye shoves his body against the wall, narrowly shifting out of the way of my lightning. The bolts continue down the hall, neither fading nor dissipating in strength. If that doesn’t suck enough, Tye is now stuck to the side of the wall.
I push forward without him, watching the vampire lead the Lesser away. They can’t hear me. Maybe they’ll feel me. I shoot a bolt dir
ectly at them.
Like the previous strike, it bounces away from them. I duck when it rebounds and I reel around to destroy it when it heads for Tye.
Now in human form, Tye’s face and body are red with how badly he’s raging. “Taran, Celia is walking into the building. Forget this shit and get to her while you can.”
“I’m not sure I can,” I admit. I haven’t stopped moving. It’s just getting harder, as if I’m wading through quickly drying mud.
Sweat drips into my eyes from how hard I’m working my muscles. I wipe my eyes, feeling its salty sting as I exert myself past my physical limit.
Excited murmurs spread along the crowd. Celia is here. I fall forward, my elbows and arms sticking at the top of steps in time for her arrival.
Celia steps from a rear hall closest to the kitchen. Weres in their beast form—some wolves, some bears, and two cheetahs—lead the way, forming a protective barrier around her as she’s escorted through the crowded foyer. They spread out, creating an arc, keeping the curious and most threatening away with warning growls and vicious glares that would have me bolting.
“Ceel,” I call out. “Get out of here. You’re in danger.”
Like everyone else, Celia doesn’t hear me. I watch helplessly as she walks deeper into the grand foyer. Her steps reflect the confidence of her inner tigress, the lethal creature waiting beneath a petite young woman who prefers marathon-length runs along the shores of Lake Tahoe to mingling with supernatural royalty.
Celia’s inner kitty does a good job of hiding Celia’s shyness. I see it though. For all that my sister is a lethal predator, this isn’t the path she chose. It found her anyway. Just as Aric found a way into her heart.
Our younger sister Shayna skips beside Celia. The sword Shayna created to “slice any dude in two” dangles against the side of her ballerina build. She’s wearing dress pants and a smooth teal silk shirt. Her long dark hair is in her signature ponytail and, like her, bouncing and all set for a pep rally and not bodyguard duty.
Shayna is our perpetual cheerleader. Koda, her mate, not so much. In dark slacks and shirt, he’s undressed for the occasion, but like a dangerous storm, ready to obliterate anything that dares cross his path.
“Celia,” I scream as she walks farther away from me. “Celia, run!”
My right arm creates a vicious strobe effect. She’s bursting with savage magic, and it wants out. Unlike before, the magic gluing me in place now works on my right arm. These spells are learning my power, so not what I need.
Three of my fingers are all that remain free. I point them at Koda, who, although he has advanced several feet, remains my closest ally. Streams of blue and white mist flow from my fingertips, swerving through the crowd to find my target.
My spell weakens as it weaves through the cluster of bodies who strain just to steal a glance at Celia.
“Miakoda Lightfoot,” I say. I add force to my words as my power reaches him “Warrior to the Alpha of the Squaw Valley Den Pack and Mate to the Mistress of Weaponry and Skill, hear me and heed my warning.”
My stream reaches Koda and wraps around his wrist. I tug him hard and add more energy. Koda’s midnight hair brushes against his waist when he glances in my direction. I think he hears me until his attention bypasses me and continues along the open hall. He’s in security mode and conducting a sweep of the surroundings. He nods to the weres who take point on either side of me. Everyone is in position to watch the carnage about to take place, and no one will be able to stop it.
I don’t stop yelling. I don’t stop fighting. I also don’t move one damn inch. Tye is back in were form. Most of his flesh is missing from his side, and his growls are more rabid and pronounced since Celia’s appearance. He can scent her and is restless to save her.
Celia reaches the center of the foyer. Like me, she’s five feet three at best with long, lean muscles I’ll never develop. Her striking green eyes scan the foyer for Aric, and her long wavy hair skims her shoulder blades as she advances. The crystal chandelier casts light along the golden highlights in her hair. Unlike most females who arrived in elaborate hairstyles and jewelry threaded through their tresses, Celia left her hair down just as Aric likes it. She hates the spotlight currently trained on her and continues to search for Aric. I search for Aric too. He’ll protect her. He’ll save her. At least, he’ll try.
The longer Celia waits for her mate, the more I urge her to hear me, and the more her inner tigress grows wary. Celia’s beast doesn’t take kindly to predators surrounding her, let alone how they regard her and whisper. It’s like we’re back in school again. Except, instead of the bullies who target us and call us the “Weird Girls” as a play on our last name, “Wird,” the crowd eyes her, waiting for Celia to do something glorious.
The ankle-length black dress Celia wears fit her perfectly just the other day. But her little one grows in crazy, magical spurts. He must have had one tonight given how he’s pushing the fabric on her belly to its limits. God, she’s so vulnerable, and try as I may, screaming and writhing, there’s not a fucking thing I can do to protect her.
A hush falls on the crowd when Koda lifts his hand and orders everyone to stop. Those in attendance crane their necks, anxious for a peek of the supernatural savior growing inside Celia.
Celia swallows down a growl, she and her beast were affronted by the increasing curiosity and mounting intensity. If it was up to Celia, we’d spend the evening watching classic 80s movies in our living room and munching on popcorn like it was our job. If it was up to her tigress, she’d eat everyone here.
I don’t initially notice Misha. He materializes with Ileana’s arm draped through his. She says something to him, smiling against his ear when she tugs his lobe with her teeth. Misha ignores her and the way she laps the blood that trickles. All he sees is Celia.
Celia glances up, smiling softly when he winks at her. It’s only then she appears to breathe. With all the tension her arrival stirred, she’s happy to see a familiar face. No. I take it back. She’s happy to see her friend.
Tye’s roars rattle the hall. He’s calling a warning. Like me, his efforts go unanswered.
My voice cracks with how battered my vocal cords are when I call to Misha. “Misha, Misha. Something’s after Celia.”
His head jerks in my direction, his gaze shifting from side to side. He doesn’t see me, but he does feel. “Yes, I’m here. Please save my sister.”
Misha frowns and abandons Ileana. He snakes his way toward Celia, the other masters giving him ample space. Being as badass as he is, my presence has affected him, except whatever he feels doesn’t stand a chance when someone more potent appears.
Aric enters the foyer with Genevieve beside him. The were elite he arrived with flank them. The deadly energy Aric omits obliterates mine and halts Misha in place before he reaches Celia.
“Misha, Misha,” I plead. “You have to get to Celia. Do you hear me? Something is coming for her and her baby.”
Misha glances in my direction yet stays in place, cagy of Aric’s approach. He hadn’t counted that Aric would become this powerful, and neither did anyone else. I respect Aric’s game plan and what it took for him to suppress this new side of him, but damn if it’s not scary as hell.
The cluster of supernaturals part as Aric draws closer to Celia; they sense the predator within him bare his fangs and fear a lethal bite. I shimmy and squirm, hoping the potent were magic pumping through him squashes the spell holding me in place.
It doesn’t give and tightens further. Tears burn my eyes. I’m out of time.
Chapter Five
Aric stalks toward Celia, his rough and scary exterior dissolving when she smiles at his approach. I don’t catch him close the space remaining between him; the movement is too fast. As if no one else exists, he gathers her to him, clutching her hips and bending practically in half to kiss her. He smirks at the sight of her blush, slipping an arm around her waist and leading her forward.
The yellow stone on Genevieve’
s talisman sparkles, the magic within it magnifies her power, amplifying the sound of her voice. “Good evening. May I be the first to greet the Most Precious Mate and Mother to Our Cherished Savior.” Genevieve purses her lips to halt her grin when Celia stops smiling. Yeah, Celia likes that title as much as you might think. “Welcome, dear Celia Wird Connor, to Le Grand Chateau de Montagne.”
The audience explodes with applause, some genuine, most not, both deepening Celia’s blush. “Thank you, Genevieve,” Celia replies as the clapping ceases. “It’s nice to see you.”
Celia doesn’t bother raising her voice, or with formalities for that matter. She’s not trying to be rude or offend Genevieve, she just hates all the attention and the reasons behind it.
Genevieve doesn’t appear bothered. She’s respected and admired Celia since their first encounter. Me, not so much. If it wasn’t for my tight bond with Celia and the history between Vieve and me, they would be best of friends, I have no doubt.
Aric, sensing Celia’s growing discomfort, tucks her against him. “Celia, I’d like you to meet two old friends of my father’s. Lando and Braeden.”
“Aric!” I yell, losing my ever-loving mind.
Aric’s head shoots up.
“Old being the operative word,” Lando says, chuckling.
His voice lures Aric’s attention away from me. God damn it, no. I scream his name again, my distressed cries competing with Tye’s roars.
“This is Celia,” Aric says slowly. “My mate and wife.”
“Ah, Aric,” Braeden says. “Congratulations. There is nothing more beautiful than a pregnant mate.”
Jesus, you could fry bacon on Celia’s reddening face.
The crowd chuckles at her reaction, except for Misha and the she-vamps dressed in naughty Catholic schoolgirl uniforms who rush to his side. Worry etches their stunning features as they glance between their master and Celia.
Aric, he isn’t smiling either. He clutches Celia protectively, his guarded features scanning up the curved staircase and stopping on me. He can sense me, and holy Moses, so can Misha. Like a cobra coiling to strike, his narrowing gaze locks on me.
