by Emma Alisyn
He wasn’t going to let her walk away, though, not without something ending up crispy. So, what to do? She knew the spell Aleka used on the dragon jewels—and just how many brothers did he have, anyway?—wouldn’t be in the book. She’d remember it if it was. It must have been one of Aleka's customs, spells she occasionally crafted for friends that were never meant to be replicated.
So, now Jezamine had to figure out if she could either undo it, or if she would flee, or if . . . she swallowed. Would it be so bad, being Donato’s mate? Maybe they could date. Get to know each other. He was obviously house trained, his home was neat and tastefully decorated. She’d seen the evidence that someone in the house cooked, and often. What teenager cooked? There were no other women in the house, she’d bet her life on it. No staff. A dragon wouldn’t have maids or a cook in his territory. No way.
Jezamine chewed on her bottom lip, an old habit from her youth that time and maturity had mostly eradicated . . . but this was, evidently, a trying time. Donato and her ex. The coven coming for the book, and a dragon standing between. Donato would, of course, make a valuable ally. But was the price too high?
Did she really want a protective, angry drake accidentally flaming her coven when they finally showed up? There was still a chance this entire issue could be resolved peacefully . . . ish.
“Mom,” Joshua called down the hall. “Kayla texted. She said bring something with apples to the barbecue. You want me to Instacart stuff for a pie?”
“No, I’ll go to the store tomorrow afternoon. What are you going to make? Who do you think will do the cooking once the baby is here?”
“Donato?”
She rose, and poked her head out of the bedroom. “No. Cooking for your child’s mother after she gives birth is your responsibility. In fact, tomorrow, I’ll show you a new casserole. Something easy, but filling.”
“Sure. Who was on the phone?”
“No one. Go to bed.” She withdrew back into her room.
“Mom, it’s only 2am.”
Teenagers.
Isaai was the meanest of all his brothers, but Marcello balanced mean with sane. Donato called him.
The midnight dragon landed in the backyard, hissing at the cows who wandered a little too close, used to Donato and his more welcoming demeanor. The cows merely blinked.
“Stupid dinner,” Marcello growled, long neck swiveling towards Donato. He lowered his snout until it was in his elder brother’s face. “What do you want?”
Donato blinked. Marcello’s breath left something to be desired. He endured it. “I have a mate.”
“Yeah, we heard the good news. Yippee skippety.” Marcello settled on his haunches. Donato hoped the heat of his brother’s ire didn’t wither a drake-sized patch of grass to a crispy brown.
“I am overwhelmed by your supportive response. She’s in danger.”
“So? Flame whatever’s bothering her and get on with it.”
“Did I mention she is descended from Aleka’s line?”
Marcello paused his staring contest with the cows. “That was what Leandros was babbling like a schoolgirl about? Damn.” A talon-tipped claw lifted from the ground, playing with the jewel around Marcello’s neck. “Aleka? Fucking suspicious. How do you know the whole spell isn’t a fraud then? What are the flaming odds?”
“There was no reason for her to manipulate the spell simply, so I would mate one of her line generations later.” He’d searched his brain for any possible reason, any benefit. Any long forgotten feud or witches he may have eaten . . . but how would mating him to one of her bloodline exactly be a fitting revenge if he had somehow offended her?
“No,” Donato said, “I think it’s just one of those rare coincidences that we think aren’t, but this time it really is.”
“Gah. You talk like a human now. Shifty.”
“Regardless.” He was unruffled. “I need you to guard Jezamine. I can’t be with her all day, not with Kayla and the businesses and the city council.”
“What are you going to do about your female’s enemy?”
“Wait for him to show up, and then eat him.”
“Huh. You clear that with the council?”
“He is not a citizen of Flaming Falls. They won’t know.”
“Felicity Falls. They vetoed your name remember?” Marcello guffawed. The idea of two-leggers vetoing anything a drake laid down as law was, actually, hilarious. Donato had allowed it to ride in the interest of him and his brothers attempting to fit into their new world where drakes didn’t automatically eat the people who annoyed them, or burn down towns, or kill each other in regular aerial combat . . . the good old days.
Donato sighed. “Will you do it?”
Marcello rose from the grass. “Yeah, brother. I don’t have anything fucking better to do than guard your mate. Sure.”
“I can give you her address—”
“Are you kidding me? I can smell her a mile away. Go to bed. I’m sure you need your beauty rest, so you can keep being so telegenetic and shit.”
Marcello lifted off, wings deliberately backwinding into Donato's face. Donato growled. Maybe when everything was settled back to normal, he’d take some time and indulge Marcello in the fight his brother was obviously spoiling for.
The next day Jezamine implemented her strategy and drove to a local forest preserve. It was a strictly wildlife reserve, so no shifters—not even the bears, who still lobbied a complaint once a season at the waste of good forestland—were allowed to make their second homes in the protected land. The forests were strictly for recreation and the preservation of non-shifter wildlife. It was one of the stipulations from the human government when heads of the shifter clans had argued for the right to self-govern their own city. Though humans had intended North America to be one of the few human-run continents on earth, the reality was more complex.
She’d wrapped the decoy book in so many illusions and booby traps that she almost couldn’t wait for her ex to find it. She’d had to draw him away from her home somehow.
Driving back into town, she pulled into the parking lot of one of her favorite taco shops, Bearly Baja. Their food was authentic, and the Wi-Fi was free. She slid into a booth with her laptop, intending to get some work done before Joshua returned home from school. Admin today, so she could afford the few hours away from her garage work station. It took effort to put aside thoughts of the decoy hidden in the forest, thoughts of Donato, and thoughts of the upcoming confrontation that was inevitable. The baby was beginning to seem like a wee little problem now.
One California burrito and an herbal iced tea later, the proprietor walked up to her table. “Mind if I sit?”
Jezamine smiled. “No, I could use a break. How’s business?”
“Good.”
Morris was a well-respected bear of his clan, straddling the line between alpha and beta with a mostly good-natured attitude and genuine love of customer service that made him an ideal restaurateur. He cared about the food, keeping his customers happy—but he could also pick up a rowdy patron who’d had a few too many during half-off night and throw him out the door. Literally. In fact, Morris was often the bouncer on duty weekend nights.
He hunched into the booth and Jezamine laughed. “I don’t know why you didn’t have them built for your size.”
The male sported an impressive shoulder width, and a healthy layer of padding over solid muscle. Not fat, just huggable padding. With the dark hair and chocolate eyes, if she were in the market for a romance . . . but she wasn’t, and besides. She knew damn well that if she tried to date anyone now, Donato flaming her date would be the least of her worries. No, until her entire life was resolved—her ex, her potential new relationship, it was better not to even look at a male.
She wondered why, after all this time, she was suddenly . . . curious? Was it a sign that she was ready for a man again?
“The samples you gave me are doing well,” Morris said, drawing her attention. “Ticket average is up eight dollars on tables t
hat order the blend.”
Jezamine picked up her glass of herbal tea and saluted him, slightly smug. It was her blend, custom made for his shop, to mimic the flavors of a classic mojito. With a little extra spice in the form of a mild relaxation incantation thrown in—and, of course, there was a disclaimer on the beverage menu stating so.
“That’s good news. Did you want to talk about a regular bulk order?”
He nodded. “And maybe two additional blends. Can you talk to Aura tonight? She handles the mixology. I’d like blends that fit in with the drink menu.”
“That’s no problem. Is eight fine?”
He nodded and rose. “She'll be starting her shift then, so that’s good. Bulk discount, right?”
Jezamine laughed. “I’ll draw up some updated figures based on three blends. You’ll need spelled canisters to hold the tea as well, to keep the leaves fresh and the incantations potent.”
He nodded and left her to her meal. Jezamine smiled, and switched from admin to her invoicing systems, spending a happy fifteen minutes working up a package deal for Bearly Baja. This could be the start of several restaurant clients and was a part of her long-term business plan to go beyond simple internet business to witches and new-agey type humans.
The base of her spine flared, a sharp, insistent pain. She gasped, clutching the edge of the table for several moments, then glanced at the clock on her laptop, emotions icing over. 1:15pm. Joshua wouldn’t be home for three hours. She rose, quickly stashing her things and throwing several bills on the tables.
Someone was trying to breach her wards.
12
Either this was some nosy joker asking to be flamed, or it was the ex.
Marcello stayed in the shadows, observing the magically-cloaked male who approached Jezamine’s house. It was a nondescript house, the kind of medium-sized, flower pot blandness that blended right into the rest of the neighborhood. He’d always thought it funny that humans hung their dwellings with trinkets and crap to make it look more ‘arcane’, and the real witches preferred the freshly mowed white picket fence shit. Maybe because they knew the consequences of looking other.
The warlock nosed around, hands against an invisible barrier that prevented him from entering the front lawn. Marcello and his brothers all had a bit of extra magic from the witch in their bloodline. Donato had his tricks, Marcello had his. Camouflage was one of them. So, no one saw the dragon sunning himself across the street in a neighbor’s conveniently large front yard.
The warlock obviously thought himself invisible. Maybe to most he would have been. But Marcello was particularly gifted in that area, even if it was mostly the extent of his inherited abilities.
He rose to his feet, the large pads of his claws scraping against cement as he crossed the street. Well, there wasn’t much to cross. A residential road wasn’t wide enough, so he more or less blocked traffic, but there wasn’t much at this time of day.
The warlock whirled, obviously sensing something on his neck. If he hadn’t responded to Marcello’s hot, dragon breath, the drake would have wondered if the male was stupid as well as stupid.
“Did you think you could just walk up to her house and break in?” he growled, not bothering to drop his camouflage. “No one knows you’re here. I could eat you and fly away. Right now. I’ve got hot sauce in my bag.”
Because Marcello was used to the varying negative reactions of the people he encountered—everything from irritation to babbling, incoherent rage—he was already braced for the hex when it was flung at his snout.
He opened his jaws, and ate it.
The warlock backed away, cloak shimmering in the heat of Marcello’s breath. “What are you?”
The drake snorted. “You can’t tell? Second rate. Any warlock should be able to sense the energy of a species.”
He swiped out with a claw, cursing when he just missed. The warlock was fast, and had recovered his aplomb quickly enough to tighten his invisibility spell and dart out of talon reach. Would it be irresponsible to flame in the general direction of the warlock? There were houses, and shrubs, and other flammable things, and not every house on the block was warded like the female’s.
“I’ll be back,” the warlock hissed.
“Bring reinforcements,” was Marcello’s cool reply. “I’m peckish.” He meant it. If the warlock brought his allies with him, it would make the whole fight much more convenient. Crisp everyone all at once, so he could go on about his business. Unfortunately, he’d have to leave the corpses, since they weren’t allowed to eat their fallen enemies these days. Sad. The female might protest, since witches were nonviolent and everything. Not above hexing a person into a frog, but nonviolent.
He shifted, his warded scales condensing into a leather jacket and faded jeans. He was one of the few shifters who kept items of clothing between shifts. And, yeah, he was just that paranoid and Donato wasn’t the only one who’d approached a witch for a secret spell over the years. The leather jacket he wore? Warded. It never came off, and when he shifted, it became part of his scales. Of course, the low-level constant buzzing hum of a personal warding spell that was set into his very bones ensured he walked around with his teeth permanently on edge. But he didn’t mind if people assumed he was grouchy just because that was his personality. Didn’t mind at all.
Marcello dropped his cloak, now fully visible, and strolled onto the sidewalk, hands shoved into his pockets. A car screeched around the corner, and he watched, lip curling up, as the female braked to a hard stop right in front of her own damn house. No stealth, no strategy.
She almost leaped out of her car, and he was impressed she bothered with the door rather than just diving through the open window. What newb drove up to a potential battle scene with an open window?
“So, I can point out like six flaws in your approach right now, even if you don’t want me to.”
She stopped in the middle of the road and looked at him, eyes wide. Not with fear, not even with rage.
With power. A subtle glow infused the whites, deepening the iris. He probably wouldn’t fuck with her on a whim, so why was the warlock poking the hive?
Did Donato really think he had the claws to handle this one? The air around her snapped, crackling in the strands of her long brown hair. Like all supnats, she appeared in her early twenties though he knew she had a nearly adult kid. Dark-brown eyes, a face free from makeup except for some glossy shit on the lips. He sized up the tone of her arms in the sleeveless blouse, the way she held her hands. Some witches used fingers to focus their spells.
“Who are you?” she asked.
He ran his tongue around his teeth. He didn’t particularly like questions, but Donato would be pissed if Marcello yanked the witch’s tail.
“Donato sent me.”
She studied him, absorbing his words. “You’re one of the uncles.”
“Good guess.”
“Why?”
“Why? Well, because apparently our parents copulated more than once, and then our sister—”
“No, why did Donato send you?”
She appeared unmoved by his sarcasm. Impressive. But it was a stupid question.
He frowned at her. “Why do you think? You think he’s gonna let his mate’s cave go unprotected?” He actually felt insulted on behalf of Donato, and he usually didn’t give a flame about his brothers’ feelings. But to have a mate insult their ability to protect her . . . .
“I told him it wasn’t his fight.” She moved, crossing the street onto the sidewalk.
“Yeah? Don’t think he listened to that.”
“Of course, not.”
She ignored him, studying the air around her house. “Was someone here?”
“Chased him off just before you came.”
The witch whirled on him. “What!?” Jezamine reached towards him, placing a hand on the center of his chest, eyes slightly unfocused. “He didn’t hex you.”
“You sound puzzled. It’s insulting. I’m not that easy to hex, babe.�
��
“The arrogance of flying things.” She withdrew her hand. “My wards have injuries. I need to repair them.” Her lips pursed. “I don’t suppose there is a brother on guard duty at the high school?”
“What do you think?”
“I think Donato may be useful.”
Marcello studied her, surprised into silence. It was a frank admission, and unselfconscious. An open admission of self-interest. “There are benefits to being his mate.”
Jezamine returned his look, inscrutable. “Yes. I’ll have to take it all into consideration. Most of our marriages are arranged, anyway.”
What a rousing endorsement. “I’m sure Donato is overwhelmed by your enthusiasm.”
She ignored the heavy sarcasm. “Thank you. I’ll see you at the barbecue.”
Was that a dismissal? Was the witch dismissing him? Marcello might have laughed, if he was the sort. “Don’t take orders from you, babe.”
He shrugged back into his camouflage. Her brow rose and she continued to watch him as he walked away, almost as if she could still see him. Interesting. Aleka’s get, huh? Maybe there were more where she came from.
Donato had said there was a witch in their bloodline. The Don’t See Me spell wasn’t a first-level casting. It required a fairly adept understanding of the link between the mind and the visual cortex. Joshua struggled with it, because he didn’t quite grasp that the spell didn’t really make someone invisible. That was against the laws of physics. No, it just bent light in a way while convincing the eyes that the object being shielded from sight was really something else, usually other objects in the near vicinity.
