by Julia Mills
He knew the mating bond had started. Felt it the first time they locked eyes. If she was to turn away from him now, it meant that he would never love another, could never be with another, and would never have children. It wasn’t that any of that really mattered. For all intents and purposes, Maddox had given up on the happily ever after dream a very, very long time ago.
Sitting on the far side of the lake, hidden by the shadows from the half-moon brightly shining on the large oak tree he was leaned against, the mad dragon watched the ripples in the water as a school of fish broke the surface to feed on the mosquitos flitting about. It was nice to be alone, let his thoughts wander, be one with his surroundings. These were the things he missed after his return to civilization.
He knew they all thought he was crazy for wanting to be alone. Dragons were supposed to be in groups. They were supposed to thrive on the comradery, flourish in the togetherness, work together towards a common goal, and there had been a time when that was what he believed too, but things had changed. Friends had died. Missions had failed even when they’d looked like a win on paper and Maddox had simply had enough.
The sound of approaching footsteps pulled the mad dragon from his memories. Shifting to his knees and using the foliage for cover, he watched and waited. Night blooming jasmine and sage scented the air seconds before a vision in white broke through the trees. His breath caught in his throat, his heart beat a profound staccato rhythm in his chest, and his dragon purred at the sight of Calysta gliding towards the lake and kneeling at its bank.
It took all his considerable control to stay put. Both man and dragon longed to join her. The mating call was at full strength and demanding that Maddox act upon his impulses. Drawing upon his incredible strength, he resisted. He had to be sure. Needed to know that she truly wanted him, would accept him and all his faults. Had to be sure that this whole calamity was not a figment of his overworked imagination.
Unaware of his presence, the Priestess took a small satin pouch from the pocket of her gown. Gently loosening the drawstrings, she poured a combination of aromatic herbs into the palm of her right hand before laying the empty sachet on the ground. With just the tips of the fingers of her left hand, Calysta touched the surface of the water and transferred a few tiny drops of liquid into the herbs.
Bowing her head, his little witch began to pray as she sprinkled the damp herbs over the surface of the water. They rode the ripples like tiny surfers fighting to remain close to the one whose hand they’d just touched. It only added to the ambiance of the moment, as if all things, both great and small, were hanging on Calysta’s every word. The reverence of her tone was awe inspiring and the emotion filling the air an inspiration. He was mesmerized as the beauty of her prayer unfolded.
I come to you, Goddess of All, seeking wisdom and comfort. Please help me shine light on what is dark in the world. Help me strengthen and repair what is weak and broken. Bind the negativity that threatens my faith. Banish the doubt and heal whatever sickness lives within me. Help me find the peace and love that has been taken from us and use me as a beacon of Your everlasting devotion and hope in Your world and Your children. Show the path that is Your will. Let me always walk in the light of Your love. I am Your humble servant, now and forever. Blessed be.
Maddox had never been what most would call a ‘religious man’. He believed all blessings flowed from the Universe. He knew Fate had a wicked sense of humor and Destiny could be a cruel mistress. He was thankful for every breath he drew and every day he had on earth, even if he did bitch and moan through most of them. He had faith. Some might say he was spiritual but none would ever accuse him of the kind of devotion he’d just witnessed as he watched the woman meant to be his mate pray to her Goddess.
He waited for her to rise, was sure her time of reflection had come to an end, but the Priestess didn’t move. Had it not been for his enhanced hearing, the mad dragon would’ve wondered if she was still breathing. That was how completely motionless she was. Silent moments passed. The mating bond grew warm within his soul. Its glow burned brighter. He began to feel Calysta’s presence in a more formidable sense as opposed to the seedling it had been.
Unable to wait any longer, Maddox rose to his feet. Moving from behind the bushes, he pushed the low hanging branches out of the way as he took first one step, then another and another until he was fully exposed, watching his mate from the opposite side of the lake. She remained in her supplicant pose, unaware of his presence.
The need to be near her, to touch her, to have her touch him, was overwhelming. His dragon pushed against the confines of his mind, chuffing and pawing the ground. The beast wanted his mate as much as the man. Need won out over good intentions. Maddox quickly made his way around the lake’s bank, never once taking his eyes from the beauty of his little witch.
The time had come. It was now or never. The Universe had given him a gift. Who was he, her lowly servant, to refuse such a prize?
With silent footsteps so as not to disturb her, Maddox approached his mate. Turning her head, she gasped as he knelt beside her, the frightened look in her eyes immediately changing to one of intrigue and if he wasn’t mistaken, more than a little uncertainty. His heart ached, for he knew he’d put that doubt in her mind. Understanding filled his being with divine knowledge. It was time to make things right.
“Hey there,” was the only thing he could think of to say. The moment it was out of his mouth, the mad dragon wished for a do-over, but the look in Calysta’s eyes and the smile that brightened her face said it all. It didn’t matter what he said. It only mattered that he was there.
“Hey,” she answered, sending chills up and down his spine.
He reached for her hand and together they gasped at the spark of recognition their skin-to-skin contact created. Maddox could only imagine what it would be like to touch every inch of her perfectly porcelain skin. Calysta’s smile turned to a sly grin as soon as the thought crossed his mind.
“Guess I better get better at shielding,” he spoke directly into her mind.
Her chuckle sounded like the breeze caressing the wind chimes that had hung outside his mother’s cottage. It was pure and melodic and sang to his heart. When she spoke through their unique link, both man and dragon felt a sense of purpose. “No need, I like hearing your thoughts.”
Rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand, Maddox took a deep breath and said the words he’d waited far too long to speak. Unable to look in her eyes as he apologized, the mad dragon focused on a particularly uninspiring bunch of weeds just over her shoulder. “Calysta, I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you want. Hell, who would want to spend eternity with me? There are days I wish I could get away.” He scoffed sarcastically and looked at their joined hands.
“But I’ve tried to stay away and that’s just not working. I thought it was a mistake. I mean, the Universe really has some sense of humor, right?” He paused to see if she would answer. Wondered if she was still listening. Then finally gave up and slowly lifted his eyes to look at her face.
What he saw had him torn between kissing her silly and turning her over his knees. Calysta was trying as hard as he’d ever seen anyone try to keep from laughing. She was biting her bottom lip and trying to hold her breath, but she couldn’t stop the twinkle in her eyes or the bounce of her shoulders.
“You little scamp,” he teased before giving into his own fit of merriment, which turned the Priestess’ silent giggles into full blown laughter. It was the best moment he’d shared with anyone in his very long life and suddenly, everything in his crazy world made sense. The Elders had been right - Fate will not be denied.
It took several minutes for the couple’s amusement to die down. Catching his breath, Maddox tried to go on, “What I really…”
But Calysta immediately interrupted. Placing her index finger on his still moving lips, his little witch raised her eyebrows and leveled her gaze. “Stop right there, Maddox MacQueen, I’ve had enough doubts for both of us. All the fea
rs, all the worries, all the holding back and thinking you hated me; it all ends right here, right now. Ya’ got it?”
He didn’t even try to stop the grin that covered his face. His little witch had sass and attitude. She was used to getting what she wanted and not having to ask twice.
Thank the Heavens, she wants me.
Unable to hold back any longer, Maddox slammed his lips to hers. Their connection solidified. The elusive piece of his soul he’d been searching for his whole life slid into place. The dragon within roared with delight. Man and beast had found their mate and she was absolute perfection.
NOW AVAILABLE
Heidi: A ‘Not-Quite’ Hellhound Love Story
Part of Robyn Peterman’s Magic & Mayhem Kindle World
GRAB YOURS on Amazon!
Okay, I know what you’re thinking. You have the insane notion that with a name like Heidi I have long blonde braids, wear wooden shoes and yodel every time I want hot chocolate. You couldn’t be more wrong or any closer to getting slapped.
First of all, I’m a hellhound (well, sort of) with long hair so black it shines. Yes, even in the pits of Hell, as I’m sure you’ve guessed the ghouls down here like to tease me all the time, so don’t… Just. Don’t. It will lead to blood shed…yours. My wardrobe consists of black leather and only black leather - in every shape, form and piece of clothing I can beg, borrow, or steal. Which you would think would be uncomfortable with all the fire and brimstone in the Underworld but it really didn’t bother me until I left my cozy little dungeon in Hotel Hell and headed topside for West Virginia.
It’s hotter than a witch’s tit in a cast iron bra up there, something I had somehow forgotten since my untimely demise and descent. Eventually, I learned to deal with the heat, what choice did I have. However, the closer I got to God’s country, (Do not tell Lucifer I said that.) it wasn’t the heat that sucked but the front desk clerks at the local No-Tell Motels. Has no one told them about Clearasil or a comb? How about shampoo and deodorant? I’m thinking the people at Johnson & Johnson or the ones who make Axe spray could seriously cash in up here. Needless to say, the ‘boys’ look at me like I’ve got three heads and might bite, which…naw, just kidding.
Lastly, and this is the most important thing to remember. I will stab anyone, yes, I seriously mean anyone who yodels after I introduce myself, starts to clog dance or dares to pick up a banjo. I can take anything but a banjo…*shiver*.
Now, that we’ve gotten all that straight, I have a helluva story to tell you. One that will make you shake your head and be thankful it happened to me not you. So, sit back, relax, grab a cold one of your choice and get ready… this one’s gonna rock your world!
It all started a couple of years ago. I was a lawyer and a damn good one, too. Which means I was a no-good, good-for-nothing, conniving shark who didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone. The only things important to me were that my win column quadrupled my loss in the courtroom and that I owned the newest Christian Louboutin’s before anyone else, the rest of the world be damned.
I guess I should’ve seen it coming, I mean my mother did make my twenty-ninth birthday a real special event by showing up after five years of silence and announcing she was a servant of the Dark Lord and had bartered my soul for her power. Now, tell me that’s not motherly love.
As luck would have it, I never made it to my thirtieth birthday thanks to an inept barista, a hole in the sidewalk and the number ten bus. Let me explain. On my way to court, I stopped at my favorite coffee joint, to get my usual - a quad shot, NO foam, caramel macchiato. Looking at my watch as the new girl behind the counter took longer to brew coffee than it took God to create the world, I realized if I didn’t walk out the door in exactly two minutes and seventeen seconds I would be late for court. So, using my charm, or as most would call it, my snark, I asked, “Must you pick and roast the beans for every cup?”
Obviously, I rattled the poor thing, because she shook like a leaf on a tree during the next two minutes and eighteen seconds before putting my java in my hand and whispering, “Enjoy your day.”
I exited the building at a high rate of speed, thinking of all the excuses I could give the cranky judge for being late. It had to be good, damn good, to avoid a fine for delaying the proceedings. You see, I was what they called habitually late, to the point that most judges and their clerks would point out, “We will be operating on regular time today, not Heidi time, so adjust your watch accordingly Ms. Burns,” so you see, I had to be creative or pay a buttload of fines to avoid a night in jail for contempt.
I slammed my hand against the crosswalk button and at the first flash of the green light stepped forward. Unfortunately, the heel of my four-inch, flaming red Jimmy Choo’s landed squarely in a hole in the asphalt at the same time the dreaded foam I had ‘politely’ requested be absent from my drink went straight up my nose. Coughing and sputtering with tears running down my face, I ended up pulling my foot out of the shoe instead of my shoe out of the hole. Not willing to lose the heels I’d paid double for to have before anyone else on the planet, I bent down to retrieve said footwear at the precise moment the number ten bus that was headed for Fifteenth and Main turned the corner. Bingo-bango squished Heidi, Jimmy Choo’s and all.
The next few days were a blur while I hovered around. I’m ashamed to admit that watching random crime scene techs scrape me off the pavement and the grill of the bus was the highlight. The funniest part was witnessing my mother weeping at the morgue while identifying pieces of me. She gave an Academy award winning performance the likes of Meryl Streep and the Dame Judi Dench herself. And…of course, she left out the part about selling my soul to the Devil.
My funeral was extravagant and as you might’ve guessed, all centered around mom. She even had the audacity to have pink (her favorite color. Weird for a witch who practices the dark arts, am I right?) roses on the altar next to my urn, (Yeah, the bimbo had me cremated. Can you believe that crap?) knowing full well that pink makes me gag.
After that debacle I kind of floated around, watching the world and wondering what was to come. Sooner, rather than later, I was whisked on a southbound journey that ended at the Gates of Hell and a welcome kick in the butt from Cerberus, the three-headed hellhound guard dog of Hades who was to be my boss, for lack of a better term.
It seems that since my mortal soul was used by my mother to inherit the dark magic of only the Devil himself knows who, that I was now the property of Hell – lock, stock and all my fabulous shoes. I know what you’re thinking. You figure that since I was an attorney, also known as a sleaze bag to most while living, that I was headed here anyway. And…maybe you’re right but I would’ve at least liked to have made my own way…ya’ know what I mean? Oh well, que sera sera as Doris Day would say. The past is the past…or is it?
As you might have guessed, there’s more. Whoever the dimwit was that my mother used to liberate her magical abilities from some poor hapless schmuck was apparently not the brightest candle on the mantel and instead of my mom bearing the brunt of his or her lack of ability, (OR stupidity, you take your pick.) it was passed on to me. Confused yet? Yeah, I was too.
Picture this…I show up dressed in black leather, my fabric of choice as you’ll remember from a few minutes ago, from head to toe, wearing an absolutely fabulous pair of Giselle Cuissard four-inch stiletto boots with a pointed toe, suede covered heel and gold tone aglets that, by the way, came all the way up to the top of my thigh – zipper and all, (Had I not been in Hell I would’ve been on Cloud 9 – my boots were to die for. Get it? To die for?) to be greeted by the biggest, fiercest, three-headed dog in the Universe. (No, not the ONLY three-headed dog in the Universe, there are more – so beware, just the biggest, but I digress.) I am escorted (read that as manhandled) by his minions, who showed me to the dungeon I would be in charge of and after several hours of trying not to smell the stench of rotting flesh and fetid blood still dripping onto the stone floor from every imaginable torture device, I finally meet
my trainer, Luci, Crown Princess of Hell and Lucifer’s daughter. (Yes, you read that right. The big bad evil has a little girl.)
To say I was shocked from first glance would be an understatement. Luci was almost six-feet tall with a curvy build (not as curvy as me, but curves nonetheless) flaming red curls piled as high as they would go on the top of her head with some ringlets framing her face in a Devil-may-care way. (Get it? Devil? And her dad is…You better step up, I got a million of these.) She was smiling from ear-to-ear and her green eyes glittered like meeting me was the greatest thing ever, which should’ve made me feel welcome but it was her dress that made me realize I truly was in Hell.
It was a pink *shudder*…no, that’s not quite accurate. It was a hot pink *double shudder* sheath dress to which she had added a huge (think softball sized) white and yellow diamond encrusted daisy brooch on the right side of her ample bosom. And…she had the matching ring which I saw when she held out her hand for me to shake and in a high cheery voice with a southern accent said, “You must be Heidi. I’m Luci and I am just as pleased as punch to meet you.”
Not wanting to offend the Devil’s daughter, I shook her hand, smiled and responded with, “I am honored to be trained by the Princess of Hell.”
Shrugging with a chuckle and a wave of her hand, Luci giggled (Yes, it was a giggle *shudder again*.), “It is my pleasure. Daddy is always telling me I need to stay in the castle and learn about running ‘his dominion’ but to be honest,” she stepped closer and lowered her voice to a whisper, “I’m really not very good at all the diplomatic, political stuff.” Smiling again, she laughed, “I’m more of a torture and maim kinda girl. I like being in trenches, getting my hands dirty.”
Not sure what to say, I simply nodded and smiled while thinking, oh my God, what fresh piece of good old fashion shit has my mother gotten me into this time? Thankfully, Luci either didn’t pick up on my lack of an answer or took my nod as a sign that I agreed because she didn’t miss a beat before rattling on. “So, Heidi, I was thinkin’ about takin’ you around to meet all the other hounds and ghouls but first I want you to meet Hunter.” I turned around to give my patented ‘whatever’ smile and tough girl handshake to what I was sure was going to be an emaciated skeletal figure who had to stand twice to make a shadow, only to find seven-foot-nothing of muscled gorgeousness, with thick wavy hair that hung down to his waist, electric blue eyes that looked right into my soul, and a low smooth baritone voice with a British accent that curled my toes when he said, “Nice to meet you, Heidi.”
