Twice Mated

by Penelope Wylde

  Now came the hard part.

  She gathered her hair into a loose bun and settled on the floor next to the large coffee table. With a couple of pushes, Harlow had the heavy oak table next to the fireplace. With a flick of her wrist she flipped open her canvas bag. Nerves made her movements jerky as she slipped the thick book of spells free and placed it face-up on the table. Bold golden calligraphy stood out in stark contrast against the deep scarlet-dyed leather covering.

  Weathering ruffled the edges and gave the tome an aged look that definitely fit the era she placed it in perfectly. With care and affection for the written treasure left by her ancestors, Harlow slipped on her glasses and cracked open the book she suspected hadn’t seen the light of day for over three hundred years and was greeted by tarnished, yellow parchment paper filled with black swirls of elegant ink.

  In her hasty exit back at the palace, she’d scanned the entire collection of ancient works until she’d spied the one book that held hope for her and didn’t look back.

  Down the spine read in a flourish of Latin: Facere Quod Perierat “That Which Was Lost.”

  She sent up a silent thank you for all those torturous hours of Latin her mother had forced her to take with the dreadful Ms. Hallie MacLawry as a teenager.

  With a couple of pops, the clasps holding the massive book closed popped open.

  Page after page of endless amounts of information jumped out at her. With every turn of a page, each new ancient spell sent a flutter of excitement through her heart. Most of the spells she’d never heard of and others dared say shouldn’t be used anymore.

  She slowed. Could it be? Tears welled and she brushed them aside. Despite the adrenaline kicking her into high gear, she managed to get a hold of her runaway thoughts. She rubbed her eyes and regained her composure before glancing at her watch.

  Too long. Hades on fire.

  She’d wasted too much time marveling over the book. Damn. With rushed movements, she scanned the ingredients needed for the potion. Marvels of marvels, she’d managed to grab everything needed along with a few extra ingredients.

  The sound of a vehicle neared and howls broke through her concentration to wind through the forest, spurring her to move faster.

  Using her thumb and forefinger, she slipped her hand back into the satchel and withdrew a small vial from a hidden compartment. If anything, the dragon’s blood held her entire future. Careful not to drop the delicate glass bottle, Harlow placed it on the table followed by her mortar bowl and all the herbs she’d collected.

  Crystallized stones of Frankincense. Check.

  A drop of rose extract and fresh marigold petals from her sister’s secret stash. Check.

  Loose dirt from a fresh grave. Check.

  That one creeped her out and bordered on gray magic, the fine line that separated white magic from black magic.

  One by one she gathered the clear plastic bags and emptied the contents into her stone bowl.

  She shooed away the guilt seeping into her thoughts at taking some of her sister’s stash and other items. There would be time for that later. No doubt her sister would discover the missing ingredients she’d snatched, but in light of everything else she’d done tonight, it really didn’t compare.

  With her grounding wand, Harlow mixed the ingredients into a fine powder. Only one more step. Shards of light played off the sharp edges of the glass vial. Two drops should do the trick. With the tip of her athame, Harlow cracked the seal and peeled back the lid embedded in the top of the vial and dripped the contents into her mixture. Silver threads of energy spiraled up only to settle into a slow swirling mass of liquid. That didn’t seem right. Maybe she needed more.

  Mixing potions were her thing, but mixing ancient concoctions fell into a whole other category.

  Heavy footfalls crunched in the snow.

  Shit! She had to hurry!

  She dropped the rest of the dragon's blood in and gave it a quick stir with her blade. It would have to be enough.

  Harlow emptied the bubbling potion into a small silver ceremonial cup before reciting the Latin phrases:

  Goddesses hear my plea,

  From death and blood,

  Tears and pain,

  Return thy powers gifted me,

  Heal the wound, seal the veil,

  Bring back this night which is lost to me,

  So mote it be.

  Her throat worked the thick, almost chunky liquid down, leaving a trail of fire in its wake until a heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach in a weird combination of dread, anticipation and jittery nerves. All three hit bottom and weighed more than a ton of bricks.

  “Yeah, okay. Not so bad.” she rubbed a hand over her mouth.

  “Ugh.”

  Her jaw tightened as liquid pooled in her mouth. Harlow swallowed again and smacked her tongue along the roof of her mouth. “Gritty with a sandpapery kinda feel, but manageable.”

  Bile washed up the back of her throat and burned a new trail on its way back down.

  Heat surfaced and flamed along her nerves until every inch of her skin hummed with pain.

  Not good. Oh, Hades on fire! Maybe she shouldn’t have added the extra drops of dragon’s blood after all. Night fused into a big blanket of darkness, blocking out her vision.

  Pounding on the front door brought her head around, but the sudden movement knocked her off balance. The room spun and the solid edge of the table closed in. Hands braced in front of her, she fell forward. Bottles crashed. Pain flared to life, but nothing compared to the power that consumed her insides. Braced on the corner of the table, she rested her head and breathed once through her nose and out her mouth. Then again.

  Goddesses, I hope Grayson and Zane hurry.

  Pressure welled in her chest. Dots filled her vision, but no matter how fast she blinked nothing helped. Wood cracked and a rush of winter air engulfed her before two sets of strong arms tightened their hold around her. Peace settled around her. The urge to wrap her arms around her men, to beg for their forgiveness, their love nearly overwhelmed the pain.

  Instead, she fell limp in their arms.

  Deep muffled voices echoed in the distance. Sharp ragged blades tore into her flesh and consumed the last drop of her energy. Then nothing. Her body grew numb as ice edged out the heat inch by inch, leaving her cold. Everything faded until nothing pierced the darkness that clawed at her. It pulled her deeper. Did this mean she was dying? Was she already dead?

  Their pine and fresh snow scent wound around her and calmed the crazy erratic beat of her heart. She didn’t want to leave them.

  Chapter Four

  She needed to reevaluate her life choices. Waking up paralyzed and trapped in her own mind probably meant she strayed off course somewhere in the last week, day, hour, who knew? Somewhere, somehow, she’d missed the signs between planning her heist by night and playing the obedient little librarian by day.

  Muffled male voices argued above her, the syllables meshed. Forcing her mind clear of all the muddled mess, Harlow mentally heaved aside mounds of fog until words made sense.

  “Ye’re nae hearing me, wolf. Yer mate is not dead. Entirely anyway.” She didn’t recognize the man’s rough voice but did pick up on the rushed agitation in his tone. And the slight brogue.

  “There’s a helluva a lot of room for interpretation in those two words, dragon.” Grayson bit out the last word with a razor-sharp warning.

  Not dying and not dead. Good to know. In contrast to the good news, her heart doubled its size and pressed against her diaphragm to create an unbearable pressure that cut into her air supply. Dots danced behind her eyelids, quivers of energy arrowed through every muscle like double-edged spearheads, slicing a path through muscle and nerve ending. Any longer and there might not be much of her left to argue over.

  Small tremors quaked from her center until what felt like every cell in her body vibrated with unleashed power. Flashes of blood and spellwork flitted across her mind, the next more gruesome than the las
t. Each mirage brought a taste of old magic and left a bittersweet taste in the back of her mouth. A sense of antiquated times that had come and gone settled over her. She couldn’t see any faces, only darkened walls or maybe woods, no moonlight. Only an open fire pit provided a source of light as the flames licked along the sky from in front of her. More than knowing, she sensed it was the centerpiece that separated her from three other ladies, all with their heads thrown back and ancient words falling from their mouths.

  “She needs a healer versed in the ancient ways. Much longer not even she will be able to help her.”

  Harlow broke the trance over her mind. Dead languages and spellwork faded into a low hum. Numbness seeped into her body—fingers, toes, eyes—nothing responded.

  Voice low with raw emotion, Grayson gave no room for argument. “Her sisters can help.” He spoke over the male from above her while his hand rested against the exposed skin of her midriff and helped calm her.

  “Och, not likely. We just came from there and if I know anything of the warlocks, this witch fears it’s that those who hunt her will go looking there first.”

  Touché.

  “Point taken,” Zane answered this time in tune with her own thoughts. Though she lay locked inside her unmoving body, her brain didn’t have the same problem. It was firing on all cylinders. Desperate to touch Zane, to feel his reassuring warmth she strained her muscles but got no reaction from her limp body.

  Grayson picked up right after him. “We don’t have much time, so what do you suggest?”

  “Come with us. Let our healer help.”

  “Wasn’t aware there were any still practicing.” One of her men picked her up from wherever she’d keeled over from the rush of the potion and pressed her close to his warm body. Grayson, judging by the way she molded to his solid chest and his long hair brushed against her forehead. Had he sensed her need for him? Dying to be close, she accepted the gift of her men.

  “There’s a lot about the Draegons ye dunnae know. Ye’ll have to ride with us. It willnae be an easy journey,” another male spoke up. His voice deeper by a fraction than the first male. It carried over the room from behind her and from how Grayson’s fingers dug into her, the thought of riding a dragon made him somewhat tense.

  The second male paused half a second before continuing. “You can dissect our existence en route. Or nae—”

  “Got it,” Grayson cut in. “From the way the ley lines are jumping all over the place we don’t have long before the Silver Circle is up our asses. I don’t relish taking them on tonight.”

  “Get ready for a fight, wolf.”

  Knuckles caressed the underside of her chin. “Harlow, baby girl, please open your beautiful brown eyes for us. You gotta wake up now.” Zane’s lips brushed against her ear and cut through the torrid flood of images of what it meant if the Silver Circle did find them, and Zane’s sweet touch anchored her.

  Glue fastened her eyelids closed and it seemed the harder she tried to move the more her body resisted. A prisoner in her own body, she had to trust her men to take care of her.

  Cold seeped into her bones and skimmed along her exposed skin. Energy pooled around them a split second before a thunderous noise overwhelmed her. Bone or branches—she couldn’t tell—cracked and moaned. Unable to move, her senses kicked into overdrive.

  Loud crunching from heavy footfalls in the fresh snow hit her eardrums. Pine scent tickled her nose followed by a hint of smoke. No. Cinder. Cinder and something exotic. A small memory came to mind. Wind kicked up a flurry of ice to pelt her face and erased the scent.

  “No fucking way. We have to ride YOU?” Zane roared out, apparently so absorbed in her he’d missed that detail from earlier. His tension rolled over her.

  Hades on fire, why couldn’t she get control of herself? This was supposed to be her night, the night she regained control, and right now she had none. If the Silver Circle stood in front of her, nothing would keep the anger filling her veins from lashing out and giving them a dose of their own medicine. Barbaric, callous, bullies, the whole lot of them.

  “That’s it, Harlow, fight it.”

  What? What did she do? Grayson coaxed her closer from the fringes of her darkened world with soothing words and soft touches. Slits of light hit her eyeballs and she flinched from the sudden assault. Wait. Was she doing that? Rockets of energy shot through her. Maybe, just maybe... First a groan, and then a roar ripped from her parched throat. Slow, rhythmic beats quickly picked up until her heart hit top speed. Muscles bunched and her back stiffened, but her throat hurt the most.

  Every swallow was like shooting back fireballs cooked in the pit of Hades. Finally, her eyes fully opened. Lances of moonlight stabbed her vision with a thousand needles. She blinked through the pain several times before the ache dulled.

  That’s when she saw them. Midnight came to life and it had the slitted eyes of a dragon. Silver light brushed against black scales to create iridescent shimmers. As if he harnessed the powers of the Northern Lights. Or maybe he was the ribbons of colorful lights?

  Tucked against her men she asked in a croaked voice, “Where do your clothes go when you shift?” She couldn’t say the question consumed her thoughts. It did strike her as odd not to see piles of clothing thrown aside like her wolf shifters, though.

  “Ye see an eight-century-old Draegon and that’s yer first question, witch?” The dragon still in human form piped up with a look of amusement. She could use a little of that right now when things looked so bleak.

  Brow arched in question, Harlow shrugged with a smile. The man standing beside the dragon bowed his head, but she caught the little flick of a smile before he turned away and strode across her small yard to a little clearing between two pines. Weak but happy to be breathing, she tightened her arms around Grayson’s neck and inhaled long and slow. “I missed you,” she whispered for his ears only. “You and Zane.”

  Turning her head, she gave a shrug in answer to the stranger though he couldn’t really see her. She spoke up as much as she could, “Seems like it would be anyone’s first question.” She shivered as the cold night air settled around her.

  “Let me help with that.” Zane stripped off his jacket and wrapped the warmed leather and fleece material over her. Slowly, he leaned in and pressed warm masculine lips to hers in a tender kiss. Every emotion she had ever felt for the man rushed her. She opened her mouth but couldn’t say anything. She could only fall under the allure of his red-rimmed eyes.

  Hands pressed against her mouth, Harlow angled her head to look between Zane and Grayson. “I’m sorry, so so sorry,” she whispered. “I...” Her voice cut out. She’d almost lost them. She’d put herself before them as a threesome.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you. Either of you.” She held out a hand to Zane and his large, warm hand engulfed hers.

  Zane’s face hardened, his lips a tight line. “There will be more time for that later. We all have a lot to discuss,” he growled, eyes shooting to her neck.

  Odd. She did feel a slight pain there. She brushed a hand over the sore area and flinched.

  Grayson’s jaw tightens and there are sparks in his eyes. “Like he said, Harlow, a lot has happened in the last day, hell, the last hour. Let us get you safe and then it’s all cards on the table.”

  They’re both big, imposing to those who didn’t know them and powerful. So damn powerful it took her a while to get used to the amount of energy they put out when either of them entered a room. They commanded attention and respect. And always got it.

  She rubbed her neck again. “I agree.”

  Something had happened while she’d taken her little timeout and it stung like hell.

  Metallic-tinged ley lines danced above them in the night sky and she didn’t like what that meant. Humans called them northern lights while otherworldlies knew them as the magic grid that crisscrossed the earth. Ley lines. What she and all other magically inclined species drew their powers from. Shifters, witches, fae...everyone. When they ra
diated with this much intensity in her world, it meant a powerful warlock drew on the powers. From the zing of static along her skin, she’d say they had her location pinned and were closing in. Fast. Think of it like plugging into an outlet and hitting the on switch.

  Shit. “Uh, guys, we gotta fly... like right now.” She waved her hands in the air to get the dragon’s attention and pointed at the sky.

  They all saw it. Please, goddesses, she didn’t want to fight the Silver Circle, but if she had to at least she had some heavy muscle on her side.

  “Got it.” Zane shot Grayson a look and then both turned to the dragons. “Looks like we might get a proper send-off after all.”

  She’d never considered herself the nervous kind, then again, she’d never pissed off someone with enough magic in their little pinky to burn her at the stake with a flick of their wrist.

  That was the Silver Circle and the elders who ruled it. They could have killed her instead of strip her powers, now that she had defied them once again she held no false hopes they were coming for a nice pot of tea.

  Energy rolled along the winter night. Shadows shifted and in a whoosh of power, the night folded back to reveal an ice-blue dragon. Standing side by side Both dragons raised their wings and stretched their massive bodies until their snouts glanced across the heavens from her angle. Both let loose a bellow that fed into the ground with the strength of what she imagined would be Thor’s hammer. The black dragon dipped his head then shoulder until his massive body lay across the quickly mounting snow in dark contrast.

  Wow. There was a dragon in her backyard.

  Wood splintered from a nearby tree and exploded, catching Grayson and her dead center with fragments.

  “Again! Come on,” she gritted out. This so needed to stop happening to her. “What is it with the fireballs?”

  Arms wrapped around her tight, Grayson shot her a glance and at this proximity, she couldn’t miss the what the fuck do you mean by again gleam in his eyes. “You’ll explain later.”