by Alisha Basso
Yes, I said. Or thought I said.
“For all the good it’ll do you. My ultimate triumph is moments away.” Wenkermann nodded toward the writhing nightmares. “They’ll be free soon.”
If ever I’d needed proof life wasn’t fair, this was it. Wenkermann was dead but not gone, while Rafe was both. The angel I’d needed, the jinni I loved, had sacrificed himself for us. It pushed me past the edge of sanity. I caromed from action to insanity, from needing to do something to make Rafe’s sacrifice meaningful to wanting to curl up and die.
He’d said, I love you.
If he really loved me, how could he leave me?
At one time I’d felt in control. I remembered that distinctly. I’d seen the problem, shown by my spreadsheet, and tried to fix it. Not heroic but practical.
Practical. I hung onto that thought like a lifeline. “You haven’t triumphed yet, Wenkermann.” I reached for my magic, dropping a bucket deep into my well, reaching for what was left of my life.
He shrugged. “I will. And you’ll lose. It’s inevitable. I admit I was a bit worried when you got a jinni to weigh in on your side. But you, alone? You’re nothing.”
“I’m not nothing.” I reeled back my bucket. Peered inside.
Half-dried blood pooled in one corner, barely a cup. Worthless against the immense power of the nightmare gods.
I swallowed back tears. Not a hero, not even a coward. When it came down to it, Wenkermann was right. I was nothing.
The nightmare gods laughed and roared. The golden rope gave slightly, loosening another notch.
I threw the bucket down. Nothing. I was a paper-pusher, a research witch who’d never make a difference except in fucking theory.
The nightmare gods hissed.
I blinked up at them. They were quivering, as if suddenly they were the ones afraid. Wenkermann jerked a surprised look over his shoulder at them.
Why, when all I had was theory?
Archimedes had theory, too.
The nightmare gods howled.
At my feet, my bucket filled with a brief flare of light. Confused, I picked it up.
A golden daffodil floated on the pool of my blood.
Rafe’s love, sustaining me even now. I wasn’t a hero, I wasn’t brave. But that stupid yellow flower reminded me that I was a human being, worthy of being loved. I was not nothing.
“You’re not good enough,” Wenkermann said quickly. “Just out of school, a newbie witch. Human. Even a jinni couldn’t stop the nightmares. How can you?”
“You’re right, I’m just me.” I touched the daffodil. “I’m done running away from it, done trying to be someone I’m not.” Excuses and disguises peeled away to the core truth—I was human.
I had free will. I had a choice.
My choice was to try.
“You’re no combat mage,” Wenkermann said.
“I know.” My fear didn’t disappear, exactly. But it folded back, revealing my training. “But even desk jockeys are sometimes called to fight. And maybe saving the world doesn’t just mean combat.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Wenkermann started writhing toward where the lassoed nightmares seethed. “It’s too late. I’ll rip them free.”
“Unless I get to them first.”
“You?” Wenkermann laughed. “You’re not strong enough to fight them.”
Why was Wenkermann harping on that? Because I truly wasn’t strong enough?
Or because strength wasn’t the only effective thing here?
I couldn’t lift a two hundred pound box—but I could push the same box across a level floor. Simple physics, lifting the full weight versus overcoming the friction between the box and the floor. My magic wasn’t strong enough to destroy the nightmare gods.
But it could push them back to where they belonged.
They screamed. They were afraid.
Right answer.
The iron maiden clock bonged, the first stroke of midnight.
I reached into my bucket. The daffodil flared again, Rafe’s I love you fresh in my ears. The flower melted, gold running into the pool of half-dried blood, brightening it until it was liquid and glossy and so alive I blinked against tears of joy.
Bong. Second stroke of midnight.
The nightmare gods started wailing. You’re not enough. You don’t have enough magic. Not enough strength. You’re only human.
Bong. Third stroke.
Yes, human. But Rafe loved me anyway. I swirled up every drop of magic, strength, and self in that bucket and extended it as my lever. Rafe’s love expanded it until it reached the edge of the mass of nightmares. Using my training as my fulcrum I readied myself.
Bong. Four.
I pressed down on my end of the lever. The nightmare gods flailed, tottered at the edge of reality…and scrabbled to hang on. The lever popped up, empty, while the nightmares hung at the edge of our universe and laughed like maniacs.
Bong. Five.
Dammit, my magic, my life wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.
Wenkermann laughed too.
Bong. Six.
Calm, Amaia. Remember that I love you.
It resonated deep inside me—as if a part of Rafe were still alive, still there for me. His voice revitalized me as it had always done. I retracted my lever, gathered my magic.
Bong. Seven.
Theory, Amaia. That’s where you shine.
Bong. Eight.
I balled my magic and threw it. I threw my whole self behind it, all my strength, my life, and more, the strength of Rafe’s belief in me.
Bong. Nine.
Oh. And I threw, not at them, at their solid strength.
I threw at the edge of reality.
Bong. Ten.
The magic hit, blasting a hole beneath them.
Was it enough?
Bong. Eleven.
The edge of reality crumbled. The nightmares shrieked…and slipped down the slide of crumbling debris. Screaming, they fell back into the pit they’d crawled out of.
Just before they disappeared, a tentacle slithered out of the pit. It wrapped around Wenkermann’s soul and yanked him down with them.
The rift healed. The screams died. I’d done it. I’d rolled back Armageddon.
Bong.
On the last stroke of midnight, my life flickered out.
I came to in a hospital bed. Black velvet eyes rested on me with warm concern. Comforted by those eyes I fell into a more natural sleep.
I startled awake. I was alone in a small, neat room, only the beep and click of monitors with me. An IV needle was taped to my focus tattoo.
I looked around. I was dead. How’d I get here?
Love brought you through.
Rafe walked into the room, as dangerously beautiful as when I’d first seen him. By the way, Esther and the others say hi.
I blinked. Mundane greetings from a dead jinni? In fact, we were both dead, weren’t we? “How…” My voice was a rasp. How’d you get here?
He sat next to me, took my hand, the one without the IV. “When you banished the nightmare gods it was so powerful an act of redemption that you sublimated.”
I…ascended? I’m a jinni?
“You released the energy to become jinn.”
I listened a moment to the beeping monitors. Saw the drip of morphine, the only thing between me and a lot of pain. I don’t feel like a jinni.
He grimaced. “You’re not.”
But…but if I released the energy to ascend…what happened to it?
“Before I gave up my life, we connected. At a profound level. I gave a spark of myself to you. And you gave a spark of yourself to me.”
The daffodil.
“Your love.” He answered my thoughts as he always had. “You said you loved me, and more, your heart said it. It opened to me. When I said I loved you, I gave a spark of myself to you, and your heart received it. My heart received a spark from you. Our lives were joined.”
But Rafe…you died. Or I thought you did. Didn’t
you?
He nodded. “My life was used up, all of it—except the spark of love I left with you. Amaia, I’m sorry.”
His love. He loved me. Why was he sorry?
“Your ascension energy should have made you jinn. But I was connected to you, and it…” He paused, as if searching for the words. “I shorted you out, like an electrical circuit. The energy bled into me. Instead of expanding the life force of a new jinni, it revitalized an old one.” His head bowed. “I am so sorry.”
I’m still dying?
His head came up. “No. That’s one good thing. Your body is completely restored to that of a healthy young woman. In fact, as soon as your wounds heal there is the possibility of regaining your sublimation energy—”
Let’s tackle that another day. I held up my hand, the arm with the IV line. “This…” I swallowed. “This is coming out soon?”
“Yes. You’ll be as good as new.” He caressed the back of my hand, where the needle was taped to my tattoo. “Well, except for having a jinni’s life joined to yours.”
“I’m stuck with you?” My heart glowed. “Guess I’ll learn to deal.” My black and white fish tattoo swam under his stroking thumb. They were twined essences too, each holding a spark of the other. “We’re like the yin and yang.”
“Yes.” He paused, and when he spoke again he sounded almost tentative. “Our lives are melded now, Amaia. You can’t get rid of me, even through death.”
I considered it. Our lives, stretching out far into the future, living and loving together. It wouldn’t be easy—he was jinn and I was human—but we both had free will. We both had a choice.
I chose to make it work.
Rafe smiled at me. I also choose to make it work, Amaia. I choose to make us work.
I smiled back. Maybe I wasn’t Dennis’s idea of a hero, wasn’t even a hero like my parents. But I’d chosen to be the very best I could be, and for the world—and more intimately for Rafe and me—that was enough.
Be sure to catch Downbeat, Biting Love Book 7—Book of the Month, Long and Short Reviews and Guilty Pleasures Purest Delight
Striking the right note could shatter more than their hearts.
After an attack that slaughtered his family, vampire Dragan Zajicek walled off his heart and went on a sixteen-hundred-year rampage with the bad boys of history.
Now a rock star of the concert podium and master freelance spy, he’s taken the baton for a small orchestra near Chicago to investigate rumors of a monstrous, undefeatable vampire dubbed the Soul Stealer.
But it’s the lovely, unassuming Raquel “Rocky” Hrbek who mesmerizes him from the first touch of her luscious lips on her flute.
Rocky, a shy shadow scarred by middle school cruelty, is mystified as to why core-meltingly gorgeous Dragan would notice a mouse like her. As his stolen kisses draw her dangerously close to the edge of her carefully constructed comfort zone, he exposes her secret—she’s investigating the monster herself.
As their quest draws them closer together, the monster zeroes in on the woman Dragan’s rebellious heart tells him is his mate. Now they must find a way to destroy the indestructible before Rocky is utterly consumed. And Chicago is bathed in the blood of innocents.
Warning: Contains a master of seduction and symphonies, an awkward and innocent flutist, small-town humor, heart-stopping action, and an exodus to Iowa. Oh, and the cheese balls are ba-a-ack—and deadlier than ever.
About the Author
As a girl, Mary Hughes spun romantic, happily-ever-after stories to get to sleep. A husband, a family, two degrees, and a blackbelt later, she’s delighted to spin them for readers.
She has lived with love and loss, in bright times and dark, and learned we can all use a break from reality every now and then.
So join her for action, sparkling wit and red-hot love. Strong men. Stronger women.
Books by Mary Hughes
Now Available:
Biting Love Series
Bite My Fire—Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Biting Nixie—Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
The Bite of Silence—Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Biting Me Softly—Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Biting Oz—Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Beauty Bites—Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Downbeat—Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Biting Love Short Bites
Biting Holiday Honeymoons
Oz Bites
Murder at Chipmunk Lake
Stand-alone books
Black Diamond Jinn (A Hot SF/Fantasy Novella)
Edie and the CEO—Crimson Romance
Twice Shy (A Romantic Comedy)
Coming Soon:
Assassins Bite (Biting Love Book Eight)—Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Masked Attraction (Pull of the Moon Prequel)
Heart Mates (Pull of the Moon Book One)—Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Connect with Mary Online
Website:
http://www.maryhughesbooks.com/
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http://www.facebook.com/MaryHughesAuthor
Newsletter:
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The Law of the Lycans
The Mating
By
Nicky Charles
Elise had no idea when she came home that day that she'd end up mated to a complete stranger.
A new Alpha and the need for an alliance between packs have made her a pawn.
She lay beside him, staring blankly at the ceiling. The deed was done. They were mated. It didn't matter that she had no love for him nor he for her. Political alliances were more important than feelings...
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many thanks to Jan Gordon and Ermintrude who helped me edit and revise this story. Also, thank you to all of the ‘Gutter Girls’ who have offered their support and have allowed me to practise my writing skills on them.
Chapter 1
She lay beside him staring blankly at the ceiling. The deed was done. They were mated. It didn’t matter that she had no love for him nor he for her. Political alliances were more important than feelings, or so she had been told. That fact was cold comfort right now as her heart broke within her.
Beside her, he stirred and she sensed him rolling over, his amber eyes staring at her. She made no move to look at him and instead tried to steady her breathing. It was no use. As she inhaled, her breath quivered betraying her emotional state. Despite blinking rapidly, a stray tear trailed down her cheek.
The covers rustled beside her and then she felt his finger move across her cheek catching the tear. “I’m sorry, Elise.” Kane’s voice was deep yet gentle.
“It doesn’t matter.” She answered quietly, still staring at the ceiling. What he was apologizing for she was unsure. For mating her? For the inevitable pain the first time brought? For the fact that she was now bound to him for the rest of her life, despite her love for another? Perhaps he was sorry for all three, yet they were as beyond his control as they were hers. She swallowed hard. “It couldn’t be helped.”
“No, it couldn’t,” he agreed, sighing heavily. His arm slipped around her waist and drew her closer. She let her cheek rest against his muscular chest, too spent to protest; the sound of his steady heartbeat was faintly comforting. “I wish I could have given you more time to get to know me before we mated, but the Elders are awaiting proof of our union.”
She felt heat flood her cheeks at the thought of the stained sheets being examined as proof of her innocence. It was so old fashioned, but it was how things were done to ensure the blood lines between the packs were truly mixed. Heaven forbid she’d come into the relationship tainted with another male’s pup in her belly. Well, there could be no doubt now that Kane was her first and only mate.
Tradition or not, it still didn’t lessen her embarrassment. All her friends and family would see and know the intimacy that had occurred between her and Kane. Worst of all, Bryan—the one she loved—would know as we
ll.
Closing her eyes, scenes from the past day flashed through her mind. She’d just returned from a run with Bryan where they’d frolicked and played in the cool shaded woods that surrounded her home. He’d been her best friend since they were pups and recently the friendship had grown into something more. Bryan had hinted that he would ask her father for permission to become her mate and she’d been thrilled at the idea. Many of her friends were already mated and, as her nineteenth birthday approached, she was becoming restless, eager to experience bonding with another.
Already, she’d gone through several heat cycles, but her father had held off choosing her a mate. Elise had naively thought he was waiting for her to find someone who suited her. Ruefully, she now acknowledged that was never the case. While her father loved her, he was first and foremost their Alpha and had to put the well-being of the pack ahead of all else. Her older brother and sister had mated with packs to the north and south. With the sea at their back, it was only to the east that an alliance was needed. When Kane became the new Alpha of that territory, the Elders determined that a mating between the packs was needed to ensure continued stability.
That day, as she returned laughing at something Bryan had said, Jake, her father’s Beta, had greeted her at the door. “Elise, you’re needed in the assembly room.”
Something in his tone of voice warned her that all was not well. With a slight wave to her friend, she followed Jake curious as to what could possibly require her presence. The assembly room was used on occasion for general pack meetings, but usually her father and the council of Elders dealt with all important issues.
As she pushed the door open, a cacophony of emotions hit her. Excitement, worry, curiosity... She was sensitive to moods and puzzled over the strange mixture. Scanning the room, she noted those who were present. The Elders appeared both excited and pleased as they conversed with another group of older persons, all of whom were strangers to her. Her father had a serious expression on his face and was talking to a man who looked to be in his mid-twenties. Elise hadn’t encountered him before and she took a moment to study this new arrival.
