“I can only hope, dear Lachlan, that she is stronger than I am. I would never want her to suffer as I have done.”
With that, the lady turned and walked in the direction Gwynne had gone.
“Nor would I,” said Lachlan quietly, watching as she disappeared around a corner, off to seek and to protect Dundurn’s Queen.
* * *
To be continued.
Book Four: Kinship
Everyone in Dundurn knew the news by now: the cwen was with child.
Gwynne had allowed herself some time to digest the news before conveying it to her mates: So, she was going to have the alphas’ baby. A child, she knew, who was of the utmost importance to the dire wolf clan. The product of a bond which had formed between herself and her lovers, and one which would now hold them together forever.
Her first mission, she decided, was to tell Rauth. Gwynne felt more at ease speaking to her lovers individually on this topic, and she feared his reaction more than Lachlan’s. Rauth had a tendency to be distant and cold, not to mention an unpredictability which set his mate on edge at times. He was a calculating alpha, and one who always looked out for his clan but who could seem as though he cared for little else. Gwynne was prepared to find him indifferent to the news, and braced herself for whatever reaction may come.
When she found him, he was alone in what he called the war room: a chamber filled with maps and books in which he spent hours strategizing, working to keep the Lord Drake’s opposing forces of flyers at bay. When he wasn’t out in dire wolf form fighting them off himself or in bed with his mate, he was employing his militaristic mind to work towards a long-sought victory that never seemed to come any closer, even after years of conflict. Full-on war was not yet raging, but he knew that it was only a matter of time.
And Gwynne knew that news of an heir to the alphas would only instigate further conflict with her father, the dragon who was causing so many problems for the wolves. Something had to be done, and soon.
But for the moment, more pressing matters were at hand.
“I’m having your baby,” Gwynne had said simply. And wordlessly, Rauth had approached, picked her up and spun her around as though she weighed only five pounds.
She’d never seen such a look of joy on his face, even during the times when he’d admired her naked form in bed or elsewhere, deeply satisfied with the vision of beauty before him. He was truly happy for that moment, she knew, and for that she was glad, not to mention intensely relieved. Rauth could be kind and affectionate when he wanted to, and Gwynne had no doubt that he would be an excellent father if he managed to keep his guard down and allow his emotions to take hold.
Her only concern was his strategic mind meant that on occasion his pack instincts kicked in. He looked out for his clan, his extended family, and Gwynne could only hope that he would do so with as much dedication for his immediate one.
In the end it was Lachlan’s reaction that had taken her aback. She’d found him in his chamber to deliver the happy news. Upon receiving it he was pensive and, oddly, not particularly surprised. Almost sad, if that was possible. But in the end he had risen from the seat at his desk and embraced her, his arms pulling her body to his chest as though in protection.
“What’s wrong, Lachlan?” she’d asked.
It had taken him a moment to gather his thoughts before saying, “Well, it’s simple really: I love you, my sweet cwen. I fear losing you. I fear what this baby will do to you. I know that’s it’s meant to be. But I’m scared of all of it.”
“Don’t you worry.” Gwynne’s hand had rested on his cheek. “I will not leave you, or Rauth. Never.”
And Lachlan chose to believe her, because what choice did he have? So much could go wrong, and he had no control over any of it, for all his strength and power.
* * *
May, 1349
Six months into the pregnancy, pestering and attacks by Lord Drake’s flyers had become near-daily events. Each morning and night, the dire wolf defenders were deployed along Dundurn’s parapet in case of a landing by an eagle, a hawk or any of the innumerable birds of prey who swooped at them from above, more an irritation than a real threat in and of themselves. The birds, when in direct contact with the wolves, stood little chance against the strength of their jaws.
And their goal was never particularly clear, other to cause a persistent annoyance. It seemed that they wanted to keep the residents of Dundurn within its walls, to discourage any sort of spreading out, so that the alphas’ power couldn’t extend its reach beyond their immediate territory. Lord Drake’s primary worry seemed to be that the wolves, and particularly their young, would become more powerful than he was. And his tactic was to keep them in check through any means at his disposal.
But much as they failed to be a serious threat, the birds were encouraged by their dire wolf foes to stay far, far away. Archers in their human forms stood watch at Dundurn’s highest towers, ready to shoot flaming arrows at their victims if they dared come close. A well-aimed shot at a wing would cripple a flyer for life. Yet their numbers never really seemed to decrease and the drawn-out war was stalling without progress.
It was the bombardiers sent to lob stones and to weaken the castle’s structure who posed the greatest and most constant threat. Not only did they harm the castle’s frame but the morale of its inhabitants, which the alphas Rauth and Lachlan had to work to boost on a daily basis by promising their men a positive outcome in the war.
They could not afford weakness in their men’s attitudes, and this meant that the two alphas had to find ways of setting aside their own differences, if only for show. They hadn’t seen eye to eye on much in months. Rauth was convinced that Lachlan was weak, an overly-emotional dire wolf who cared more for his queen than for his people. Lachlan in turn saw Rauth as too concerned with protecting the physical walls of the castle, rather than its human and shifter contents.
* * *
Nestled deep inside the solid stone walls of Dundurn, Gwynne knew that word had likely gotten out to the flyers about her pregnancy. And her unborn baby was a threat to her father, which put her on edge. Protecting herself was one thing, but the idea that anyone should want to harm her child sent the dragon within her into a state of vigilance, wanting to emerge in order to protect its young.
Her father had hated the idea of a powerful daughter, and now he would have the notion of a powerful grandchild to contend with. His time, he no doubt knew, was nearing an end. And though she’d never met him, she knew that he must despise her for what she carried within her body in spite of his best efforts to stop her.
Their child would be powerful, she knew. A combination of a drake and a dire wolf, with the blood of two alphas, and possibly even with Gwynne’s ability to leap through time. Such a being had never been known to exist. Such a being, it seemed, should not be allowed to exist if Lord Drake had his way. But Gwynne would protect it with her last breath if it came to it.
She could see that Lachlan and even Rauth were fearful, not of the flyers but of what might become of her, given the intensity of such a pregnancy and its risks. Each man, she knew, would be lost now without his mate. They relied upon her, strong though they were. The two men had bonded in every sense with their cwen, and she with them. By now the only thing that could break such a bond would be death, or so they—and she—thought.
She would never leave them again for anything, she told herself daily, but she couldn’t promise that she’d survive the birth. And yet she was determined to bring their baby into the world, healthy and strong, even at the risk to her own life. As much as she loved the two men, she had never loved any creature as she loved the one who resided inside her now.
* * *
Kinship 2
Scarring from the burn covered the Lady’s right cheek and temple like the tattooed map of some unknown land, marking the trajectory of the fire that had ravaged her years earlier. The skin, almost smooth, looked to her like that of someone else; plastic, the flesh of a m
elted doll, even. Its surface was not natural and porous but rather one brought on by its own survival mechanism as her cells had attempted to regenerate and failed to complete the mission.
The face that looked back at her in the mirror, once pretty and young, was a reminder of a past that she’d prefer to forget, and a future that had been stolen from her.
Even so, it was not the scar that inspired her daily to conceal her features; it was the aspects of her face that were still recognizable that she felt a need to hide. In so doing she protected not only herself but others, and came off to society, perhaps, as a little eccentric. But this was far preferable to the possible alternative—having to confront her demons.
As she’d done so many times before, she pulled the veil over her face and, masked, stood to examine her new room. It was very nice indeed; well-appointed and lavishly decorated. Her bed was large and comfortable, and elegant tapestries decorated the south and east walls. The view from her window was of the sea, which always seemed to put her mind at ease. Looking out towards the woods or, worse, populated buildings in the distance, reminders of the society she’d once occupied, would have felt like a harsh sort of punishment. The Lady preferred these days to keep to herself and to deal with others one on one or not at all. Too much had happened to revert to the life she’d once known.
Now she found herself in someone else’s territory, held in by their walls. This time, however, she could live with it. It was Rauth who had suggested that she remain in the castle when he’d learned of Gwynne’s pregnancy. The Lady was as close as anyone in the area came to a modern doctor, and both alphas wanted her present in case anything should go wrong. And she wanted to be there for that same reason: Gwynne was important to her.
Lachlan, of course, knew more of the Lady than his cousin did. He knew her secrets and her suffering, what sacrifices she’d made in order to protect the woman who was now his mate. And he often wondered when she would let Gwynne in on her troubled life, if ever.
The Lady was fond of the young woman who’d shown such strength; proud of her, even. Gwynne was a born leader, though she didn’t yet know it. She was stronger than she’d ever given herself credit for. And she would need all of that strength in the near future.
The cwen was now months along but no one could predict an accurate due date. Even had she leapt into 2014 no doctor could have answered the question of a date or even a month of birth; there were none who had ever seen such a pregnancy before. No one of any era had. The daughter of a dragon shifter, a shifter herself, pregnant with the offspring of two dire wolf alphas. How was anyone to predict the outcome of such a combination?
Gwynne’s belly had expanded at a rapid rate, which in and of itself wasn’t deeply concerning; the baby would be large and everyone knew it. The issue was one of its strength. Gwynne’s body had only recently started to transition into one of a shifter, and it was entirely possible that it wasn’t yet ready to house the offspring who was now gestating inside. The risk was that the baby would overtake her from within her womb, its instincts fighting one another and a desire for escape winning out over the desire to stay in the comfort of its mother_.
But for now there was no way to know, other than for Gwynne to monitor her nerve endings for odd pangs, which the Lady had ordered her to do. So far nothing had gone wrong and the castle’s resident queen seemed remarkably well. The days passed with a happy cwen roaming the castle, often humming, seemingly perfectly content.
To the Lady, however, this was the calm before an inevitable storm.
* * *
Kinship 3
“And so, are you getting excited?” Ygrena poured steaming water into a cup for her friend and mistress, a meagre substitute for the coffee Gwynne would have preferred to consume. Her modern sensibilities didn’t allow an intake of caffeine, any more than she allowed herself alcohol during her pregnancy. But that didn’t stop her craving it, as well as pickles, ice cream and chocolate pudding, none of which were readily available.
At times she contemplated leaping through time and running into Trekilling to buy some groceries with the few British pounds she had left in the almost-forgotten bag which had ventured into 1348 with her. Now, in 1349, she settled with some reluctance into her predicament, knowing that going into labour far from the Lady’s care and from her alphas wouldn’t be worth all the pickles in the world.
“I am excited, yeah, if you want to put it that way,” said Gwynne, taking the cup and allowing herself a careful sip. “Though it’s a little bizarre and scary not knowing when the most exciting part will come. For now I feel fine. I mean, my stomach’s grown, but it’s not as though it was six-pack abs to begin with. I feel like myself, only with the pitter-patter of little feet inside me. But you know, I have to say that I feel even stronger than I did before. I don’t know why.” She rubbed her belly then. “The little one seems good for me, much as everyone likes to worry that he—or she—will murder me from within.”
“That’s your mothering instinct kicking in,” said her servant and friend, sitting on the edge of her bed, sipping at her own hot water. “Your body’s like a fortress now, protecting your young. It’s doing its job better than expected, too.”
“It’s a pretty crappy fortress, if that’s its job,” laughed Gwynne. “It keeps letting those men of mine infiltrate it. I should pull up the drawbridge one of these days, I suppose, though God knows I don’t want to. They’re not the only ones with voracious sexual appetites.”
“They’re still at it, are they?”
“Every night. I can’t say that I mind. I’m like a dieter who’s been offered a sundae bar with extra sprinkles when those two come at me. I couldn’t resist them before, but now I feel like I’ll start shaking from withdrawal if I don’t get my nightly dose of sweet lovin’.”
Ygrena looked at Gwynne, a familiar expression of confusion on her face.
“Sorry,” said Gwynne. “To put it in terms you’ll understand, on nights without the alphas I feel like a heavy drinker whose flagon of mead has been taken away.”
“I’m slowly learning your modern language,” said Ygrena, grinning. “At the very least, your facial expression conveys everything I need to know.”
“Are you calling me a saucy minx?”
“Something like that.”
“Anyhow,” laughed Gwynne, “I asked the Lady if it was okay to still be having sex, and she insisted that yes, it is, and I’ve chosen to believe her. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. And I’m glad they’re getting along in that one regard. The two of them are so ugly to each other these days that I hardly ever see them together. I feel like each time I want to talk to them, I have to run around the castle on an alpha hunt.”
“If I may ask, my Lady, what is it that’s causing the problems between them?”
“I’m not sure. Since Rauth found out about the baby, he’s become even more focused on his military responsibilities. It’s like his nesting instinct is to go to war, while Lachlan has become more nurturing, doting. He constantly wants to make sure that I’m all right. But Rauth—he’s almost distanced himself from the whole thing, like his job now is to fight. I wish he’d just settle and enjoy the fact that we’ll be a family, albeit a non-traditional one. The war can wait.”
“Perhaps he’s looking to ensure that the baby will have a safe environment. With the flyers attacking and so on,” said Ygrena, attempting to be helpful.
“But maybe they wouldn’t attack so frequently if the wolves weren’t constantly hunting them and looking for an excuse to shoot them down. It seems to me like the two clans are equally awful to each other in some ways, even though I know that our side wants peace. I just hate the violence. I want Rauth to focus on something other than war—on happiness, maybe.”
“He will, I hope, when the baby has been born. Remember, at least Lord Rauth still comes to you in the evenings. Obviously he still enjoys your bond.”
“Yeah, I suppose I should count myself lucky for that,” said Gw
ynne. “It’s sort of reassuring that the two of them still want me so much. A lot of women feel fat when they’re pregnant. My two mates make me feel like I’ve somehow gotten more attractive, although I think maybe they’re just nuts.”
“Well, you’ve always been lovely, my Lady. It’s no surprise that with the glow of…pregnancy…they would find you even more so.” Ygrena had never grown used to the modern term for a woman with child. It seemed so odd and clinical; obscene, even, despite her open mind. Medical terms were for male doctors, not ladies.
“Ygrena, how long have we known one another?” asked Gwynne
“Seven months, my Lady.”
“So maybe it’s time that you stopped calling me your lady and addressed me as your friend.”
“I’ll try, my Lady. I’ve always worried that…”
“That the alphas will bark at you. I know. Don’t worry. I have it all in hand. Those two will cater to my every whim until this baby comes sprinting out of me. I’ll blame my hormones for my irrational rage and then give them hell if they bother me.”
“All right…Gwynne.”
It was like watching a dog with peanut butter stuck to the roof of its mouth; Ygrena’s lips simply did not want to utter the name, any more than they wished to contort around the syllables of “pregnancy.”
“Anyhow, I’m off to find that other lady, our mysterious veiled friend, and see what advice she has for me today. God, I need a name for her. Maybe I’ll start calling her Doctor House. Or Who. Or Nurse Ratchet.”
“My La—Gwynne? I don’t understand,” said Ygrena.
“Just…pop culture references from my time. Forget it,” laughed Gwynne, missing the familiar references from her own century. “I’ll see you in the morning, if not later today.”
Sought by the Alphas Complete Boxed Set: A Paranormal Romance Serial Page 21
