Mackenzie McKade

by Black Widow (lit)

  Tammy’s position was clear—she would not cower beneath their animosity.

  Roark pinned his stern sight on Layton. “Find me the murderer and you will receive your justice.”

  “She stands beside you,” Layton snarled, watching both Roark and Tammy cautiously.

  In a blur of speed, Tammy went from standing beside Roark to behind Layton, her arm wrapped around his throat. Surprise turned to fear as Layton grabbed her arm and attempted to break her hold. But his strength ebbed beneath hers. When her incapacitating grasp tightened, his mouth and eyes widened.

  “Do not fight me.” Tammy’s words were a whisper of menace that forced Layton’s hands to his side. Her hold lessened and he sucked in a strangled breath of relief. Yet she wasn’t finished. Releasing a hiss, she pressed her lips to the vein throbbing in his throat. A cry met her touch. She answered it with a slow caress of her tongue from his neck to his ear. “If I wanted to kill you,” she paused, “you’d be dead.”

  In a blink of an eye, she stood by Roark’s side once again. Layton’s knees buckled. He fought to keep his footing.

  Legs parted, Tammy’s nostrils flared as if she dared Layton to speak. Roark could sense her strength, the power of her beast and temptress standing together, presenting them as one. It was an omnipotent moment. She had never been so sexy or dangerous. Electricity crackled and popped in her hair as it fell around her shoulders like a crown of light, even in the daylight.

  Several members of the pack faded toward the back of the crowd. Others stood slack-jawed. It was a child, Sue Ellen Chambers, who slipped from her mother’s grasp and approached.

  “Sue Ellen!” Laura Chambers screamed, but it was too late. Her daughter already stood before Tammy.

  A tilt backward of her head, long dark ringlets fell down the child’s back as she narrowed her curious stare on Tammy. “Terry says you will kill me in my sleep.”

  A hush fell over the crowd.

  “And who is this Terry?” Tammy asked dryly.

  Sue Ellen jutted a finger toward her ten-year-old brother who skirted behind his mother. A bushel of black hair appeared as the boy chanced a peek toward his sister. Their mother took a step forward, but Roark motioned her back.

  Tammy knelt to come eye to eye with Sue Ellen. “What do you think?”

  Sue Ellen shook her head as she reached out to touch Tammy’s hair. There was a crackle and a spark upon contact. The child burst into a fits of giggles that died slowly. “I felt you. Knew you were coming.”

  Tammy’s forehead furrowed. She shot a questioning glance to Roark.

  “Sue Ellen is a special child. At six she has already shown exemplary psychic powers. She knows things others do not,” Roark explained, ruffling the child’s hair.

  “Well, Sue Ellen, it is a pleasure to meet you.” Tammy pushed to her feet. She extended the girl her hand, but was taken aback by the child’s sudden embrace as she hugged Tammy around the waist.

  “Oh, Momma.” The child gasped, glancing over her shoulder. “Come here and listen.” She drew her attention back to Tammy. The child’s eyes were as large as saucers, her grin from ear to ear. “There’s two,” she breathed.

  “Two?” Tammy and Roark asked in unison.

  Laura stepped forward, her son following cautiously behind her. The woman dipped her head to Roark as her daughter leaned forward, pinning her ear to Tammy’s abdomen. “Babies, my queen. Sue Ellen is saying you are with child—twins."

  Neither Roark nor Tammy spoke. They just stared at one another. Like a bird his heart took wings and soared. Tammy carried his child. Elated, he jerked her into his embrace and kissed her soundly.

  “Oh God. Who’s the father?” Roark knew by the shock on her face that she hadn’t meant to share her thoughts.

  “I am,” he answered on their mental path. “Vampires don’t procreate. They’re my children.”

  Time stood still. No one existed beyond the two of them, until Sue Ellen released a contrite sigh. “I’m sorry.”

  Roark felt his pulse stutter as the child’s words ripped his happiness right from beneath him. “You are mistaken?”

  “No.” Sue Ellen twisted her mouth into a pout. “I’m sorry they’re boys and not girls.” Her crestfallen look made both Roark and Tammy burst into laughter, but not everyone was celebrating their precious moment, especially Layton.

  “N-no,” he stammered. “She murdered Lonnie.” He turned to the crowd, his voice rising in desperation. Roark’s heir meant Layton’s chance of leading the pack slipped further away. “How do we know that Grady did not fall beneath her hand?”

  “Enough,” Roark roared. “You tread a fine line with your accusations, cousin. I gave you leniency once this week. I will not be so generous the next time.” He looked over at his constituents. “Your queen is innocent. Look toward the evidence and you will find it so. Lonnie’s death was staged. Your knowledge of our women’s heat cycle, especially their first, is proof enough. What is of most importance is to find the person or persons responsible for our sister’s death.” The why he knew—someone wanted to frame Tammy.

  Tammy was on a rollercoaster of emotions that carried her up one side and down the next. She had barely held onto her composure when confronting Roark’s cousin. Her confidence slipped, took a nosedive, when Sue Ellen shared her brother’s fear. Within a heartbeat, the very breath from her lungs was stolen.

  She was pregnant—carried not one, but two of Roark’s children. For the first time her beast felt appeased, her temptress seeking out Roark as he stood before his people and fiercely defended her.

  Thoughts of Marcellus crept into her mind and Roark’s words faded. How would Marcellus feel about her pregnancy? Would it drive a wedge between them? He had to accept it, because she had dreamed of a family—wanted a stable, normal life forever.

  What the hell was she saying? This was as far from normal as one could get. The fairytale—the happily-ever-after—was not the life she was living. She cast her gaze across the horde of people who clearly resented her existence. Frowns and barely concealed hatred were on their faces. This world didn’t exist in normal. Vampires and werewolves didn’t exist. Not to mention, someone wanted her out of Roark’s life to the point of murder. His people were no different than Marcellus’s.

  Tammy placed a palm on her flat belly. Two lives grew inside her—sons. The knowledge made her heart swell. The soft crying of the child next to her drew Tammy out of her wonderings. She once again eased to her knees.

  “What’s wrong, Sue Ellen?” she asked, brushing back a fallen tendril.

  “She is sensitive to the pack’s outburst.” Numerous people were talking at the same time. The noise level rose with their anger. “Sue Ellen feels their emotions. It’s too much at times,” Laura offered the explanation. “It’s time for us to leave.” She intertwined her fingers in her daughter’s. Mother and daughter looked so much alike. Would Tammy’s boys look like Roark?

  Tear-filled eyes gazed up at Tammy. “Will you come with us?”

  Startled, Tammy started to reach for an excuse when Laura genuinely smiled and nodded her head to send her short bob of black hair bouncing. “Yes, we would love you to visit with us. Let the men deal with this unpleasant subject.”

  “Mom!” Terry screeched. Panic tightened his features.

  “Hush.” Laura pushed her son behind her. “He’s been listening too much to the older boys, my queen.”

  Tammy’s eyes began to burn. Dammit. This woman’s kindness would not make her cry nor would she allow the child’s fear to steal this moment away from her. Before she could refuse Laura’s invitation, Roark said, “Thank you, Laura. I would appreciate it.”

  “Roark?” Tammy couldn’t leave him at a time like this.

  “There’s nothing you can do here. The facts speak for themselves. Go. Enjoy yourself.” Roark brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. He turned to Franc. “Guard her with your life.”

  Franc ran his knuckles over Terry’s head.
“Come on, boy. Looks like we’re stuck watching the females.” Funny thing was Franc didn’t appear disappointed as he glanced toward Laura and she blushed.

  Several women joined them as they made their way through the throng. Tammy tried to ignore the condemning glares flashed her way, but it was difficult. Her beast and temptress became agitated, crawling beneath her skin, until Sue Ellen took her hand and smiled so sweetly up at her.

  As they entered a small cabin, the three women who had joined them began to move in all directions, peeling off their jackets as they separated. It was clear they felt comfortable in Laura’s home as one went toward the refrigerator, another to a cabinet, while a plump, grey-haired woman who had introduced herself as Betty headed toward a drawer. Dishes and silverware clinked.

  Several minutes later they sat around the kitchen table with steaming cups of hot chocolate before them. The rich smell caressed Tammy’s nose. The scent of cinnamon and pine burning in the hearth mingled. All around her were signs of Christmas. From the homey stockings hanging before the fire to the tree decorated in strings of popcorn and homemade ornaments.

  “Where are you from, my queen?” asked Betty as she pushed a plate of gingerbread cookies in front of Tammy. There was a brief pause around the table, until Tammy reached for a cookie and took a bite. She guessed it was normal that they would wonder whether she ate or if blood was her main course of existence.

  “Please call me Tammy.” She sipped her cocoa feeling its warmth slid down her throat. “I’m originally from Boise, Idaho. I moved to Phoenix three months ago after my father passed away last spring.”

  Betty placed her hand over Tammy’s and squeezed. “I’m sorry, dear.”

  “Thank you.” On the way over, Sue Ellen had whispered in Tammy’s ear that Miss Betty was their elementary school teacher. “So you teach?”

  “Oh my, yes. Have for forty years.” From the corner where Franc and Terry sat came a snicker. “Behave, Mr. Chambers, or you will be staying late come Monday.”

  Terry groaned and Franc chuckled.

  How domestic it all seemed. Just a group of werewolves and one Lamia—hybrid—sitting around the table chatting as if outside there wasn’t a lynch mob foaming at the mouth to end Tammy’s life. She glanced at the door and wondered when Roark would arrive. Damn. She wished Marcellus was here.

  Jennifer, a tall slender woman with red hair and devilish pretty eyes spoke up. “We don’t all think like Layton. We are curious, even more so now that you carry our leader’s children.”

  “It’s unbelievable,” Tammy said more to herself than anyone present. “I wasn’t sure I could conceive since I’m—” What? Undead? Immortal?

  They leaned forward on her every word.

  “Well, let’s just say this is as new to me as it is for you. I don’t even have the legends or rumors to go on. Each day is literally a surprise for me.”

  Until now Cathy had remained quiet, her big brown eyes pinned on Tammy. “You’re so beautiful.” The awe in her voice made heat rush up Tammy’s neck and spread across her cheeks.

  “Thank you.” Tammy gauged Cathy to be about nineteen. She had the youthful look about her.

  “Is it true that Manny is under your spell?”

  “Cathy!” Laura chirped.

  “It’s okay.” Tammy had to get use to people looking at her as an oddity. “A vampire’s bite is seductive, but not a spell. I’m just fortunate that Manny believes that I’m not the monster most of your people think I am.”

  Sue Ellen crawled off her chair and onto Tammy’s lap. She snaked her arms around Tammy’s neck. “You’re not a monster.” The innocence in the child’s eyes touched Tammy, especially when she shot a glance toward her brother. “See, Terry. She is a fairy princess—a queen.”

  “Yeah. Yeah—” Franc placed a hand over Terry’s mouth before he could continue.

  The conversation flowed casually for the next two hours. Tammy discovered that Laura was a widow—a hunting accident. It was also obvious that there was attraction between her and Franc as they shared secret glances. Cathy was heading to college in Tucson. Jennifer was playing her cards wild and free. She didn’t want a man that would tie her down, especially a lycanthrope. In her words they were “overbearing and just a regular pain in the ass”.

  When the first hunger pain struck, Tammy almost cried out. Her heat cycle might be gone, but her thirst wasn’t. The beating of hearts, the swish of blood was a symphony in her head. Her mouth watered. Her stomach even growled. Cathy shot her an inquisitive glance. This couldn’t be happening now.

  No. No. No. Tammy was shocked when the temptress faded in the dark. The first real sense of self-control made her inwardly smile. Perhaps there was hope for her after all.

  A sharp knock on the door and they all turned their heads. No one appeared worried except for Franc who sprung to his feet and crossed the room with preternatural speed. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me.” Roark’s voice caressed Tammy’s ears. She shivered with the need to see him, be near. Franc opened the door and Roark entered. His eyes were weary, his smile a little weak. “Ready to go home, baby?”

  Home? If only she could find a home amongst these people. Tammy knew she could be happy here. She placed Sue Ellen on her feet and scooted the chair out to rise. This was just the type of place she would want to raise her children. Clean and spacious. Untouched by the hustle and bustle of the city.

  “Thank you, Laura.”

  Tammy was pleasantly shocked when Laura hugged her. “Thank you for visiting. We’ll see you tomorrow at Grady’s and Lonnie’s funerals?”

  As each of the other women present gave her additional hugs, Tammy stammered on Laura’s question. “Uh…” If everyone thought she was guilty of their deaths, she was the last person they’d want to see there. Tammy glanced at Roark for confirmation. He nodded. “Yes, we’ll be there.”

  After saying their goodbyes, she, Roark and Franc left. The scent of burning pine filled the air along with a variety of other smells. Someone was barbequing. A small restaurant down the street had the most delicious Italian scent seeping from its chimney.

  There was a sense of peace in the surrounding forest that felt almost deceiving. She watched a bushy-tailed squirrel race up the bark of a tree. The animal scampered from branch to branch without a care in the world. Would she ever feel that way? Would her children? She felt tired. Of course, not sleeping since the previous day wasn’t helping.

  “Yes. In time, life will be as it should for us and our children.” Roark touched her mind, snaking his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer. “Franc, I haven’t seen Stephen since our return?” His breath met the chilly air and crystallized as he spoke.

  “He had a massive headache. He took wolf form to heal,” Franc explained, snow crunching beneath his boots. “If I know Stephen, he is leading the investigation. He was pretty pissed when he woke.”

  “We need to find the culprit, soon. Too much has happened. The pack acknowledges that Lonnie’s death was staged. But the why has them on edge.”

  “Either way they blame me. I’m the why.” Tammy glanced at him, but he looked away as if he could hide the truth. She fell silent. Why belabor the point—it was what it was.

  No one spoke the remainder of the trip. It was a little eerie stepping inside the cabin. She couldn’t help looking toward the spot where Lonnie had lain dead. Funny, how a little soap and water could wash away the evidence, but the image was burned into her memory. She blinked finding the picture still there.

  Tammy hadn’t realized she had stopped until Roark said, “Come on, honey. You need a bath and a nap.”

  She needed a helluva lot more than a bath and a nap—she needed a miracle.

  Chapter Eighteen

  How long Tammy slept she had no idea. She stretched, opening her eyes to darkness and silence. Patting the bed next to her, she realized she was alone. A moment of panic gripped her, but she pushed it away along with the covers tucked around her.
When her naked body touched the chilled air, she shivered. The tremor vanished as quickly as it had arrived. The automatic thermostat inside her was convenient. Even still she thought of a robe and in seconds she was wrapped in a blue creation of her mind. The matching slippers were an afterthought as she stood.

  The fire had died in the hearth, only a thin strip of light shown beneath the door leading to the hallway. Her slippers made a wispy sound across the floor. When she opened the door, the light caused her eyes to sting and water. She rubbed them as she made her way to the top of the stairs. Muffled voices met her ears and several masculine scents pushed her exhaustion aside. Marcellus was here. His spicy aftershave was difficult to miss among Roark’s cologne. Energy abounded in her steps as she flew down the stairs.