by Riley Storm
“I’m not that late. But I need time to get ready. Couldn’t we have done this tomorrow?”
Jennifer stopped what she was doing and straightened, looking Heather right in the eyes. “Think about this. Do you believe it to be a good idea for someone with a potentially active Loup-Garou virus in their system to assume the position of Queen of this House? Does that not strike you as a bad idea in any way shape or form?”
“Maybe,” Heather agreed sourly. “When you put it like that, at least.”
“Thought it might. It won’t take me long to verify that the spell has countered the virus completely.” Jennifer took a vial and withdrew the needle from her patient’s arm.
“Since when do mages know how to draw blood?” Heather asked, suddenly curious.
Jennifer turned a dark look on her. “You don’t want to know what we can do with someone else’s blood,” she said quietly.
“Oh.” Heather wasn’t entirely sure how to respond, given that she’d just handed over a vial of her own. “Should I be worried?”
Jennifer’s smile returned. “I guess we’ll find out shortly, now, won’t we?”
Heather sat nervously, tapping her fingers against her thigh as she watched Jennifer work. This was perhaps the biggest moment of her life. It would change her for good.
“Hey, doc,” she said, using the new moniker she’d applied to Jennifer teasingly. “I just thought of something.”
“What’s that?” Jennifer asked, bending over the microscope as she pushed the slide of Heather’s blood under the lens.
“Well, if I’m cured of the disease—well, not cured exactly, but if it’s rendered dormant in me, not active, neutralized by your spell, whatever the phrase you want me to use is—what does that mean for the spell?”
Jennifer was adjusting the equipment as she examined it, her voice distracted when she replied. “What do you mean?”
“I was doing some thinking. Because, you know, if this works, that’s a huge development for female shifters everywhere.”
“Yeah…” Jennifer replied, suddenly focusing tighter on the microscope in what looked like alarm.
“Everything okay?” Heather asked, sitting up straighter, worry tightening her stomach. “Is it back? It didn’t work, did it?”
“Um.” Jennifer stood up, eyes roaming over Heather. “It worked. The virus is completely neutralized.”
“So why are you staring at me like that?”
Heather bit her lip, then waved it off. “I’m just surprised. But what was your question?”
The news that she was cured of the virus took a vaguely odd backseat. There was something Jennifer wasn’t telling her. At first, Heather almost pushed for the information. The Magi had seen something in her blood.
“I was wondering if the virus would remain inert, if that meant that it couldn’t be, um, you know. Passed down. To a child,” she added lamely as Jennifer continued to stare at her.
Without warning, Jennifer stuck her hand out. A spark of green-gold energy flicked out, then spun around Heather in a circle starting at her head and spiraling down to her feet. When it finished, it flicked back into the Magi’s hand. The tightness on her face increased as she absorbed whatever information the spell had provided her.
“Um.”
Heather frowned. “Um what?”
“I guess we’re going to find out,” Jennifer stated.
Heather was thoroughly lost. “Find out what?” she pressed, hopping off the seat, confronting the Mage straight on.
“Whether the inert Loup-Garou virus will pass down to a child or not.”
Heather blinked. Worked her jaw. Blinked some more. Tugged on her hair. Licked her lips. “What?!” she shouted, the sudden noise filling the lab, driving Jennifer back a step.
“Um. You’re pregnant,” Jennifer said with a shrug. “Almost two weeks. Super early, I know, but I could see something different in your blood. And the spell I cast on you confirms it.”
Heather fell back into her seat.
“Holy shit,” she whispered. “How am I going to tell Logan?”
41
“Is everyone here?” he muttered, looking around.
“I think so,” Heather said. “I don’t see anyone missing. Stop stressing.”
Logan gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m not stressing.”
“Your hands are clammier than fresh seafood, darling,” she said lightly, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment in support. “You can’t fool your mate.”
He grinned. Their coming together had been such a whirlwind event, it was still a novelty to him every time Heather used the word mate to describe their relationship. It made him all sorts of fuzzy and giddy inside if he was honest with himself.
“I shall try to remain aware of the fact that you aren’t foolable,” he teased, giving the top of her head a kiss.
“Good. Now let’s go say hello to Kaelyn, shall we?” Heather urged, nodding her head toward the Queen of House Ursa, the bear shifters.
“Very well. Come on now,” he said, and the two of them wandered over to where the notorious leader of the bear shifters was conversing with Lucien and several of her subordinates and—
“Is it just me, or does she seem to be standing quite close to that one fellow, what’s his name again? Kvoss?”
“Don’t interfere,” Heather chided. “You know she can’t officially take him as her mate, but yes, I would say that they are together, at least in private.”
“That’s cute,” he said, smiling broadly as the Queen noted their approach.
“Logan,” she said. “Let me congratulate you on your appointment to King of House Canis.”
“Thank you,” he said, bending slightly at the waist and dipping his head in a show of respect. “Thank you for coming.”
The Queen smiled. “It is customary for the heads of the other Houses to attend the official coronation ceremonies. Plus, I have to admit, we were rooting for you all along.”
Logan smiled tightly at the reminder that his predecessor had been the one to initiate a full-scale civil war in House Ursa via his manipulations, something from which they were still recovering.
“A dark time it has been for both our Houses indeed,” he concurred.
“But who doesn’t love a good party!” a third voice joined in as a tall, lean man slipped into their midst, his long face and prominent nose somehow managing to look regal, attractive, and powerful all at once.
“Tarryl,” Logan said, shaking the other man’s hand. “Thank you so much for coming.”
The man grinned, revealing perfectly white teeth. “You know, House Raptere appreciates a good party. Besides, it’s been too long since we’ve all gotten together.”
“Heather, this is Tarryl,” he said. “King of House Raptere.”
Raptere was one of the minor Houses, all flighted shifters whose animals were birds of prey. Their numbers were lesser than Ursa or Canis and they did not have the designation of a High House, but Logan didn’t let that color the way he treated them.
“A pleasure,” his mate said, extending her hand in greeting as well, laughing politely as Tarryl kissed the back of it.
“And of course, congratulations to the two of you,” Tarryl said.
“Thank you,” Logan replied, pulling his mate in closer, basking in her physical presence.
“Indeed,” a fourth voice purred. “A big congratulations.”
Logan turned. “Benny, you made it!” He stepped forward, lifting the King of House Panthere into a massive hug that would have made a bear shifter proud.
“Oof. Careful there,” the man replied, but he slammed his own palm into Logan’s back with equal glee. “It’s good to see you.”
The two had known each other since childhood and Logan still thought it crazy they had both ended up as respective Kings of their Houses. But he wasn’t about to let stuffy protocol stop him from saying hello to his friend the only way he knew how.
“Is everyone here now?” B
enny asked. “Can we do the formal bit where we all speak solemnly and approve of you as King?” he added, his already deep voice sinking even lower as he mocked all the pomp that went along with such days.
“Yeah, I think so,” Logan agreed. “Nobody is missing.”
He turned to signal to Chief that he should start up the music and all the traditional stuff that went along with the coronation, but before he could, the large metal doors to the Throne Room boomed with a powerful knock.
“Are we expecting anyone else?” Logan asked while everyone else looked.
“No,” Heather said from at his side. “Certainly not from the main doors.”
Logan frowned, motioning for the guards at the door to see who it was. He watched as Lester slid back a peep hole and spoke to the person.
“What the—” Logan said out loud as Lester visibly stiffened. The guard looked over his shoulder at Logan, eyes wide. Not scared, but…shocked, his mouth moving but not making any sounds.
“Well, who is it?” Logan called. “Announce them already if they aren’t a threat.”
The entire room, several hundred shifters worth, was now paying attention to the door.
Lester cleared his throat, grabbing the handle and getting ready to open it.
“May I present, Aaric, Lord of High House Draconis,” Lester finished with a squeak, opening the door.
“Did he just say Draconis?” Heather gasped.
Logan swallowed nervously. “He did.”
The Dragons were back.
***
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Thank you for reading Royal Alpha. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review so that others might enjoy the adventure as well.
Next Book: Fire Dragon’s Bride (High House Draconis #1) – Out Now!
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Other Books by Riley Storm
Thanks for checking out my other books!
Below you can find all my novels, divided up by series. The brackets indicate which of my worlds the series is written in. So dig in!
Storm Dragons (Winterspell Academy)
Stolen by the Dragon
Trapped by the Dragon
Dragon’s Chosen Mate
High House Ursa (Plymouth Falls)
Bearing Secrets
Furever Loyal
Mated to the Enemy
Shifting Alliances
Blood Bearon
High House Canis (Plymouth Falls)
Savage Love
Blood Mate
Moonlight Bride
Shadow’s Howl
Royal Alpha
High House Draconis (Plymouth Falls)
Fire Dragons Bride
Mated to the Water Dragon
Ice Dragon’s Caress
Earth Dragon’s Kiss
Claimed by the Dragon King
About the Author
Riley Storm
Riley is one of those early-morning people you love to hate, because she swears she doesn’t need caffeine, even though the coffee-maker is connected to her smartphone. She lives in a three-story townhouse by the good graces of a tabby-cat who rules the house, the couch, the table, well, basically everywhere. When she’s not groveling for forgiveness for neglecting to pet her kitty enough, Riley is strapped in to her writing chair coming up with crazy worlds where she can make her own decisions of when feeding time is and how much coffee can be drank without her friends—of which she has three—holding yet another intervention that they threaten to post on the internet.
Find her on:
Riley Storm’s Amazon Page
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