by Lisa Ladew
She stared down at the sleeping man, trying to figure out exactly what was going on, but had no reference to start from. She had a rudimentary knowledge of where babies came from, knew men and women were supposed to stare at each other with lust and desire and would end up kissing and disappearing behind closed doors for sex. But what did any of that have to do with what was going on here? Why did he make her body pound with something she’d never felt before in her life? Why did thoughts of sex fill her mind when she looked at him?
Her mind fell silent for a moment as she noticed a scar furrowed above his right ear, a long, grooving scar almost a half-inch wide and five inches long, curving to the back of his head. Her fingers curled, wanting to touch it while her mind hungered, wanting to know the story behind it.
The room brightened incrementally and her intellect told her it was time to leave. Time to leave this man and run home before Myles woke up. If Myles found them both gone and even suspected they hadn’t been in the yard, they would pay. He hadn’t broken one of her bones in years and she wanted to keep it that way.
Cerise took a step away, then another, but her body carried her back to the bed for one last touch. Perhaps she wanted to know if she would feel the same things if she touched him again, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t try to resist it. She lightly grazed his forearm and the good feelings returned, but they were already ebbing, not quite as strong. Her eyes slid shut and she let the sensations wash over her as her body tried to convince her how much she needed this man.
The thought sent a spear of fear through her and her eyes flew open. No. Self-reliance only, she needed no man, ever. Men were dangerous. Too big. Violent. At least the ones she knew.
Her gaze fell upon the part of his body covered by the sheet and she couldn’t help but suck in a breath at what was standing there that hadn’t been standing before. She knew what was supposed to be there, but had never seen it hard and jutting like that before, never quite tried to imagine exactly how the sex happened, but this new sight sent myriad images through her mind of how it could. She bit her lip and pulled her fingers away from him, ready to turn and run, scared at how her body and mind reacted to what she had seen, but before she could, his hand closed around her wrist. His eyes opened, and they were the loveliest shade of blue she had ever seen, like the afternoon sky as it deepened to evening.
“You here to kill me, darlin’?” he drawled, a slight grin on his face, showing white, even teeth with canines almost like fangs. Sexy.
“Oh no, no,” she babbled, automatically curling her other hand around his fingers that were holding her. “Go back to sleep,” she said, pushing with her mind in a way that felt both foreign and intimate to her. “Forget about me, I was never here.”
His eyes slid closed and his hand dropped to the mattress, but the slight grin stayed on his face.
Cerise ran, not looking back.
Chapter 3
Beckett Oswego finished his tea and bourbon, signaling to the bartender for his tab. He’d only had one drink, but he’d bought a few rounds for the pretty ladies in the booth to his right. They’d smiled and cooed at him, welcoming him openly, but he wasn’t feeling it. Fuck. His dick was in but his head was out, and that really sucked, since he’d gotten the idea that all three of the ladies would welcome him. Could have been a fun night.
He stood. His dick screamed at him but he ignored it, tipped two fingers in a salute to the ladies, and headed out the door. Two kids ran past him on the sidewalk at top speed, all pounding feet, shouts, and giggles, boys, probably ten or eleven. They turned a corner out of his sight, then a third boy followed, stopping near Beckett to put his hands on his knees and catch his breath.
“Hey mister, you see my friends run by?”
Beckett started for his truck, ignoring the kid completely.
“Fuck you very much,” the kid muttered from behind him. Briefly, Beckett considered going back and showing him the wisdom of keeping his mouth shut when his elders and betters had real shit to attend to, but he scrapped it. He was in a foul mood, and that wouldn’t help any.
But when he got to his truck, there were grubby hand prints all over the back window of the camper shell, smeared in the mud left there from last weekend’s off-roading and drone piloting.
“I’m gonna kill those little bastards,” he muttered, cranking on the door pull. It was still locked. He checked the windows, then pulled out his keys and opened the back. Betsy, his biggest and most awesome quad-copter was fine, and so was Zita, his smallest but most-useful drone. He checked the gift-wrapped present, too. Fine. They hadn’t actually been in the truck, they’d just looked. No killing would be required today.
He could have used the distraction. He was not looking forward to what he was heading to, but he pulled himself behind the wheel of Cooter, his ’83 lifted Chevy C-10. His only friend who had time for him anymore…
***
Beckett’s mouth dropped open as he surveyed the yard and field behind Trevor’s house, his housewarming present to Crew and Dahlia forgotten in his arms.
It looked like a massive battle had been fought there, maybe between dinosaurs, or dragen. Trees were ripped out of the ground, creating several massive holes in the forest, each scorched by fire, the trunks of the remaining trees blackened and charred and the ground twisted, dirt up-heaved. One monster blue spruce lay in the middle of a pasture as if thrown there by a giant.
In contrast to the carnage, tulips, daisies, mums, and other flowers he had no idea the names of, pushed through the snow two months too early, their blooms not closing, even though the sun was almost below the horizon.
Beckett turned in a circle, his mind pulsing. He’d heard the one true mates who had been found, who lived on this property with their males, had been practicing with their powers, but he couldn’t imagine how they had done this. The tree in the middle of the pasture had to weigh thousands of pounds by itself.
One of them did that with her mind? He ran over their powers. Ella, the first to be found, and Trevor’s mate, had some ability to fight and repel Khain. Trevor was the head of the KSRT, the all-wolven, or all wolf-shifter, police team he belonged to, fighting tirelessly to protect the humans from Khain, a demon with a penchant for fire and explosions and killing humans, who lived in a hell-like dimension alongside the real world. Beckett eyed the blue spruce, wondering if it had been Ella who had uprooted and thrown it.
Heather had been the second mate to be found, fated to Graeme, the dragen, or dragon shifter, who’d come to them from Scotland, seeking to find a way to end his impossibly long life, but finding instead a reason to live. As far as Beckett knew, her power was to start fires with her mind, and she could not be burnt.
Then Dahlia had been found, just over a month ago. Dahlia was the mate to Beckett’s best friend, Crew. Dahlia’s powers were harder to explain, but apparently she could create things with her mind. He bent to pluck a flower from the ground and hold it to his nose. It smelled right. Felt like a real flower. What if she’d told spears to jut from the ground instead, or monster-sized scorpions? Would they have come as easily as the blooms seemed to have?
A spate of laughter from the just-finished cabin he was heading to caught his attention. He tucked his gift under his arm and continued that way, his mind on the implications of the powers the one true mates had been born with. Had the angel that had fathered all of them intended for them only to be able to protect themselves? Or to fight? Female wolven had fought, been police officers alongside the males, but now that there were none left, he had to imagine any males blessed enough to find their one true mates would be hard-pressed to want them fighting Khain, unless they proved to have some sort of regenerative powers.
The snow crunched under his feet as he stepped over flowers until he reached the cleared path that led to the cozy-looking log cabin. He approached the door, then knocked soundly, smiling a little at Crew’s laughter he heard from inside.
It was good to hear Crew laugh, but it hurt
, too. Until Crew had found Dahlia, Beckett had been Crew’s best friend, maybe his only friend. Beckett had been the only person who used to be able to make serious Crew laugh, or even crack a smile.
But Beckett hadn’t seen Crew for more than five minutes in the last six weeks, since he’d returned from that other world with his mate, and finally stopped disappearing when he slept. It had suddenly become all Dahlia, all the time. Beckett got it, he really did, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt, wasn’t missing his friend.
He pounded on the door again, the smell of dinner drifting to him from inside. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, and some sort of sweet dessert. Pie? Maybe. No, cake. Angel-food cake. Interesting. Someone’s idea of a joke? He had no idea who was cooking, didn’t even know if his best friend, Crew, cooked or not. They’d only eaten TV dinners and fast food and drunk beer when they’d hung out.
Still no answer. From inside, male and female voices laughed and talked and called out to each other. Beckett was about to knock again, when he thought better of it and simply opened the door. He stepped inside and put his gift down, scenting to get the lay of the house and occupants. He couldn’t see anyone yet because the entryway was blocked from the kitchen and dining area by a partial wall of hand-hewn logs, but he could hear them, laughing and joking and sounding like a family.
Family. The word made him wince and he wondered why he had agreed to come here tonight. He could be out at the bar right now, drinking his weight in whiskey and beer and picking up a willing female or three to take home to his bed.
But the bar was different to him these days. Without the pursuit of the female, the rest of it just didn’t make as much sense. And his desire to bed female after female had started waning when Trevor had found Ella, then taken another hit when Graeme had been paired with Heather. Once Crew had fallen in love with Dahlia, Beckett had found himself unable to look at a woman without stacking her up against his own mate. Whoever she might be.
He heard Dahlia’s voice and Crew’s answering banter, then laughter and he winced again. He might not belong at the bar, but he didn’t belong here, either.
He looked around the small entryway for a piece of paper and a pen. He would leave Crew a note and take off, but before he could, Heather rounded the corner and leaned against the wall opposite him, fanning herself and taking off her shirt in one swift motion.
Beckett froze, then sighed in relief when he saw she had another shirt underneath it. A tank top, like it was summer. Heather leaned against the far wall and smiled at him. “Beckett, I didn’t know you were here. Everyone’s in the dining room.”
Beckett grinned at her in reflex, because that’s what he did. “Smells good.”
Heather smiled back, still fanning her face. “Is it hot in here?” she said, her head drooping. “I’m so hot.”
Beckett shook his head. The temperature was comfortable.
Graeme came around the corner, looking for Heather. “Leannan, what ails you?”
She smiled and held out a hand to him. “I’m good, just hot.”
Graeme eyed her for a moment, then turned to Beckett. “Beckett! Good man. Good wolf. Everyone’s around the corner.”
Beckett nodded and pointed to Heather. “I’m peachy. Take care of your female.”
Graeme gave him a distracted smile then hurried to Heather’s side, peering into her face, looking for anything wrong there.
“I’m just so hot,” Heather said, wiping her face with the shirt she held in her hand. “Do I feel like I have a fever?”
Graeme’s expression twisted, closing down slightly as he placed both his hands on Heather’s cheeks, gently looking her up and down. “It cannae be,” he whispered.
“What?”
Graeme held her at arm’s length and glanced at her stomach, then held a trembling hand to it.
“What?” Heather said again, then understanding, and maybe a bit of fear, filled her face.
“Crew,” Graeme called, his voice urgent, his brogue suddenly thick. “I need ye!”
Beckett grimaced. That was his friend, not Graeme’s. His cheeks heated at the thought. Crew wasn’t his ball and Beckett wasn’t a toddler, unable to share. If only Beckett wasn’t so alone, now, he could be a more understanding friend. But Beckett had been alone since he’d been twelve years old, Crew the only real light in a lonely life.
Crew entered the room, his face smiling wider than Beckett had ever seen, new laugh lines wrinkling his eyes.
He held up a hand when he saw Beckett. “Beck! You came!”
Graeme commandeered Crew’s attention immediately, not giving Beckett a chance to respond. “Crew, I know ye could tell when Ella was pregnant, could ye-could ye check on Heather?” His voice trailed off and Beckett could hear the fear and hope there in equal measures.
Crew’s expression showed surprise for only a moment and then he nodded quickly. He stepped closer to Heather, holding out a hand. Heather raised her own hand in return, wonder on her face.
Crew stepped back before their hands met, and joked, “Maybe I should sit down first.” Another wonder. Crew had never had much humor about his powers, or anything, before.
They moved to a bench along one wall, boots lined below it, Graeme practically carrying Heather, then Crew took her wrist in his fingers. Beckett watched Crew, something like dread eating at him. Crew’s expression stilled, then his eyes went wide. “The baby-she’s on fire in there,” he breathed, his expression tight and scared.
Heather’s eyes also grew wide, but Graeme threw back his head and laughed, a rich, full sound that brought relief to both Crew and Heather’s expressions.
Graeme stood up, pulling Heather into his arms, then threw his head back and roared up at the ceiling. A roar of celebration. Of triumph.
All conversation in the dining area ceased, then Trevor, Ella, Dahlia, Trent, and Troy piled into the small entryway. Seven people and two full-sized wolves, as big as Great Danes. The room barely held them.
“What is going on?” Ella cried, her eyes alight, as if she suspected.
Graeme grasped Crew’s hand and pumped it up and down. “I’m sorry to upstage your housewarming.” He dropped Crew’s hand and threw his arms wide, facing the newcomers. “Heather’s pregnant. She’s pregnant and the bairn lives. And it’s a GIRL.”
Graeme laughed again as congratulations began to flood them both. Troy sat back on his haunches and howled while Trent watched them all with flat eyes.
When the melee quieted slightly, Heather spoke up, tugging at Graeme’s sleeve to get his attention. “Graeme, he didn’t really mean on fire?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me at all, leannan. I’ve told ye they come out on fire, but how was I to ken how long they are like that inside yer body?”
Heather grabbed him by the shoulders. “Girl,” she said softly. The couple stared into each other’s eyes, then Graeme dropped his mouth to Heather’s for a sweet kiss. Beckett felt like throwing himself outside into the snow to avoid seeing what should have been a private moment between them.
He turned away, concealing his emotions behind his typical grin. Why were they all excited that shortly they would have a huge liability thrust into their lap? Why was everybody in such a hurry to bring completely helpless pups into the world? Or whatever baby dragen were called.
Someone knocked on the door and Beckett turned to open it, anything to ignore the uneasy feeling in his chest.
But when he opened it, Mac stood there, hand empty. Leave it to Mac to show up at a housewarming party with no gift. Behind him were Bruin, Wade, Harlan, and Jaggar. Beckett lifted his eyebrows, surprised to see Jaggar. The male normally shunned events like this, anything that wasn’t work. Like so many of them.
Beckett stepped back, allowing them entrance into the room. The place suddenly felt twice as small. Mac lifted his chin at Beckett. “Say hey, hardhead.”
Beckett ignored him. Hardhead was better than redneck. Maybe that was Mac’s gift. He would keep his mouth on a lea
sh all night.
Wade held up a bottle of wine. “Do I sense something worth celebrating?”
Everyone began to talk it once and when Wade figured out what was going on, he held up what was in his other hand. A wooden box. He gave it over to Graeme. “These were for Crew, but I don’t think he’ll mind if I give them to you instead.” He looked at Crew. “I’ll bring you another box tomorrow.”
Crew clapped him on the back. “It’s no problem. It’s not every day a male finds out he’s going to have a pup.”
“Wyrmling,” Graeme said, his smile broad. Heather just looked dazed. And hot. Temperature-wise, not attraction-wise. She was cute and all, but she was Graeme’s and did not appeal to Beckett.
Beckett wondered how long he would have to stay, and how long they were going to all cram into this tiny room. Crew came close to him, the uncharacteristic smile pasted on his face. “Dahlia’s next,” he said and Beckett knew he was right, but the thought filled him with dread, not joy. Crew clasped hands with him, then gave him a one-armed hug. “Your one true mate show up yet?”
Beckett shook his head.
Crew looked at him closer, obvious confusion on his face. “Are you positive?”
Beckett stared at him, irritated all of a sudden. Done with being there. Crew might have that whole foresight thing going on, but Beckett would know if he had met his one true mate. “I’m positive. I haven’t met any women at all since you told me about her.”
Crew raised eyebrows, but didn’t say a word. Beckett scowled and looked away, then back as a thought hit him. “Hey, are you sure you weren’t seeing the future?”
Crew shook his head, speaking louder to be heard over the din of everybody else talking at once in the room. Everyone except Jaggar, who looked as miserable as Beckett felt, hiding in one corner. “The only time I ever saw the future was when Khain showed it to me. That’s not what this was. You’ve met her. You’ve touched her. I would bet my life on it.”
