by Alisa Woods
Leonidas whipped his gaze to face his brother. “You’re kidding me.”
“No.”
“She’s not… how can she not know?” Leonidas’s mouth hung open. He knew angelings were fairly obtuse and overly blunt, but for her to not realize his brother was in love with her at all… no wonder Leksander was a raw, badly-scraped nerve. “I mean, it’s one thing if she doesn’t return his affections, but this…”
“It’s taking a toll on him.” Lucian’s eyes narrowed. “Bringing her here will be hard. You need to be patient with him, Leonidas. He’s trying. And he truly wants your dragonling to survive.”
“I know.” Leonidas felt his heart wrench, and he regretted his angry words.
Lucian nodded and headed for the stairs.
Leonidas had a mate and a dragonling on the way. Rosalyn’s love for him was True, and he couldn’t love her any more if he tried. Whether they would survive was up to the fates and magic and a luck that seemed to finally be on his side… but Leksander had none of that.
His brother faced nothing but heartbreak ahead.
It was a sadness that doubled Leonidas’s gratitude for what he had.
He hurried down the stairwell, determined to return to Rosalyn’s side before she awoke.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Leonidas asked her.
“Very, very ready. I love you, hot stuff,” she said, reaching up to ruffle his hair with both hands, messing it and drawing a smirk out of him. “But you really can be too much of a good thing.” Rosalyn had never had so much sex in one stretch of time in her life. Which was how it had gone from the first moment she and Leonidas kissed. She smoothed down his hair again. “And, besides, my mom’s been texting me like crazy. I think she’s going nuts with my dad here in the keep.”
“I told you that was a bad idea.” But he moved to drop the last of the wards he had set around the lair during her two-week isolation time.
Rosalyn smoothed down her soft, linen shirt—it billowed slightly over her barely showing belly. She wore some stretchy jeans underneath, even though her baby bump wasn’t much. According to Leonidas, she was showing as much as a human at the end of her first trimester. The first two weeks of being pregnant had flown by in an endless haze of sex. Only now was she coming out of the fog and finally entering the real world again.
She couldn’t wait to do something normal for a change.
Not that reuniting her parents was even close to normal. “My mom and dad will just have to get along.”
Leonidas nodded. “They’re waiting for you in the Great Hall.” He swept out his arm, inviting her to go first. She held up her head and strode out the door.
The hallway was wide and covered with tight-woven tapestries, much like the inside of Leonidas’s lair, only more battle-oriented. The scenes stitched into them were dragon-on-dragon with magical blue fire everywhere. In any other medieval castle, there would be knights slaying the dragons, while these definitely had good dragons and bad ones. She hadn’t spent much time outside the lair, just that first trip to the “closet” after which Leonidas had locked them away in his apartment. She gazed in wonder at the ancient battle scenes and sturdy granite walls contrasting with the modern lights that illuminated the hall.
It struck her, once again, how old Leonidas really was, despite his magical, forever-young hotness. If she managed to live through this pregnancy, she’d have that too—magical youth for hundreds of years. Her brain fuzzed out whenever she thought of it… not that Leonidas left her much time for thinking with all the lovemaking they’d being doing.
“I agreed to allow your family to visit,” Leonidas said as he walked next to her. “But I’ll happily boot out the lot of them if they cause you any trouble.”
“My father wouldn’t have come if he was planning on making trouble,” Rosalyn said. She wasn’t 100% certain about that, but she was hopeful. “He did warn us about Zephan. That asshole caught up to us eventually, but that wasn’t my father’s fault.”
“That we know of,” Leonidas said, dryly.
She scowled.
He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, I haven’t forgiven the man for what he did to you and your mother. And I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t either.”
Rosalyn frowned. Her sneakers were quiet on the slate flooring as they wound through the keep. The scent of roasted meat and something sweet drifted across her nose as they passed a sprawling kitchen with two burly dragons of the House of Smoke making something for the next meal. Rosalyn and Leonidas passed several stairwells that seemed to lead up into the many towers she’d spied from his windows. While she saw no more dragons after that, there were definitely whispers and noises floating through the hall—there was more vibrancy out here in the keep than in Leonidas’s lair. Just being in new surroundings was refreshing and lifting her heart.
But Leonidas was right—it would be difficult to forgive her father. And maybe forgiveness wasn’t necessary… all she needed was his help one more time. He’d already helped her once, even without the threat of the House of Smoke breathing fire down his neck…
“There’s nothing anybody can do about the past,” Rosalyn said, feeling the truth of that in her bones. “What matters now is this baby.” She rested her hand lightly on her belly.
A soft look overtook Leonidas’s face, and the steady thump of his boots stuttered. He pulled her to a stop and lightly kissed her on the lips. It was one of those deliciously soft kisses that she’d grown to know so well during their time of seclusion.
He pulled back. “Every time I think of our child and the love that created him…” He slipped a hand into her hair, tilting her head back and gently brushing kisses along her jaw. “I just want you again and again.” He edged her backward to the tapestry on the wall, a soft rumble sounding in his chest.
“Leonidas!” She put her hands on his chest to slow him down. “Holy magic, haven’t you had enough?” She smirked.
“Absolutely not.” He didn’t look too disappointed, albeit a little frustrated. “Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this?”
She scowled again. “No.” Then she slipped out from underneath his embrace. “And no more using the power of your super sexy body against me.” She shook her finger at him. The smile that burst forth on his face just about stopped her heart. Holy crap, that boy was sexy. Even at five hundred years old—talk about serious magic.
She intentionally turned away before she could be tempted to push him up against the wall herself. They only had to wind down a few more hallways before they finally reached the Great Hall. Two giant wooden doors lay propped open, and passing through them was almost like breaking out into a courtyard, the hall was so immense. Great timbers supported the ceiling above them, and ancient chains dangled down to hold chandeliers that glittered with a thousand crystals. Leksander must’ve conjured the electrical lights that shone steadily through them, but it was clear that the chandeliers once held candles. Giant arched windows lined either side of the Great Hall, all the way down to the far end, with another enormous window looking out into the actual courtyard of the keep—although the window was up so high on the wall, she could only see blue sky and puffy white clouds. The room held rows of long tables with chairs—obviously a massive dining hall or maybe a meeting room for visiting dragons. Rosalyn didn’t know, but her small family of witches took up hardly any room. In fact, she wondered why they were meeting here, except that it gave everyone space to spread out. The Great Hall was long but relatively narrow, and the two camps were in their corners—her mother, Isadora Thorne, and her mother’s sister, Alora Thorne, stood on one side of the hall, while Rosalyn’s aunt, Guinevere Damon, and her father, Silas Damon, were on the other.
“Rosalyn!” her mother burst out when she saw her. Her mom was dressed in shop clothes, the kind she normally put on for customers—a thin blouse and trim, black slacks. She hurried over to Rosalyn and Leonidas, with her sister Alora trailing behind with a smile on her
face.
Aunt Gwen and her father kept their distance.
Her mother embraced her. “For the love of magic, I’ve been so worried about you.” She pulled back and looked Rosalyn in the eyes, scrutinizing her face and then letting her gaze fall quickly to the slight bump of Rosalyn’s shirt. Her mom sucked in a quick breath. “I can hardly believe it.” She placed a gentle hand on Rosalyn’s belly.
Just that simple motion threatened to bring tears to Rosalyn’s eyes—she should have seen that emotional thing coming, but she hadn’t, and it hit her hard. “I’m already two weeks in,” she said, clearing her throat, “and the pregnancy is only six weeks long. It’s a good thing you came to visit—you might’ve missed it.”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world!” her aunt Alora said, angling for a hug. Rosalyn’s mother released her, and her aunt gave her a quick squeeze. She was grinning when she pulled back. “Although apparently, I missed out on just about everything else.” She sent a sideways look to Aunt Gwen and her father.
Guinevere was smiling, although it looked strained, but Rosalyn’s father had a dark and stormy expression. His back was ramrod stiff, and it was clear he was only here because he couldn’t really say no.
Rosalyn turned back to her mother and her Aunt Alora. “It all happened so quickly. I do wish you had been there, though.”
Alora threw another scowl at her Aunt Gwen. “I guess I picked the wrong time to step out for an errand.”
Rosalyn bit her lip. She was sure there was more story there. Alora was at the bottom of the social ladder in the Morgan coven and had been out when Rosalyn stopped by with Leonidas’s dragon blood, but that wasn’t her Aunt Gwen’s fault—she and her father were in the Damon coven. But it was the witches in the Morgan coven who had basically kidnapped and drugged Rosalyn, trying to find out where she got the magical blood. That was back when Rosalyn’s greatest aim was to work her way into a coven, any coven, even Morga Media. Now she’d given up all of that—all of magic, really—to mate with a dragon.
Crazy, how much had happened in such a short time.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” Rosalyn said to Alora. Her mother’s lips were pursed tight. Rosalyn suspected Alora was here for moral support for her mom more than anything else. “But I’m glad you are.”
Alora beamed. “I’ll help in any way I can, dear.”
Rosalyn’s mother took hold of her hands. “How are you feeling, Rose?”
She glanced behind her—Leonidas was keeping quiet, letting her run the show, but he hadn’t told them anything. About the vampire… and the demon. “Remember when that vampire bit you, Mom?”
Her mother scowled and leaned back. “What does that have to do with anything?” She threw a glance to her father across the span of the Great Hall—it was a couple dozen feet, but he and Gwen were clearly listening intently.
Rosalyn supposed the vampire attack was embarrassing for her mother, but it was the quickest way to explain. “Remember how there was a demon essence that came along with that bite?”
Her mother looked even more horrified.
Alora seemed baffled. “Vampires and demons together?”
Rosalyn nodded and turned to Gwen and her father. “That’s why I asked you all to come here.” She gestured them over.
Her father’s face pinched in as if she were asking him to leap across the Grand Canyon, not simply walk the span of the Great Hall. Aunt Gwen whispered something to him, chastising him with her scowl. He shook his head, but she just grabbed hold of his arm and whispered a little more loudly. Rosalyn couldn’t quite make out the words, but they must have convinced her father to move. He grudgingly took the dozen steps to come stand near Rosalyn. Her father then flicked looks at Leonidas and Alora but studiously avoided looking at her mother.
Rosalyn sighed. But it was a start. Maybe the rest of her story would bring them all a little closer together. “Well,” she said brightly, “it turns out I’ve been infected with a demon! A vampire bit me, transferred the demon essence, and now it’s bound up with my witch magic.”
“Oh my God.” Her Aunt Gwen was the first to speak.
Her father just looked disgusted, while her mother had put a hand over her mouth and looked like she was about to cry. Alora’s hand was on her arm, reassuring her. Rosalyn felt Leonidas at the small of her back, just a touch to let her know he was still there. She reached back and grabbed hold of it, giving him a tight smile and lacing her fingers with his.
Then she turned back to her family. “Leonidas and I are having a very special, very magical baby,” she said suddenly feeling choked herself. “And I want more than anything to have that baby actually be born. We knew the danger when we decided to—”
“When you decided to become the dragon’s pet?” Her father’s voice dripped with disdain.
It felt like a smack to the face—Rosalyn was so stunned she couldn’t speak. Leonidas’s grip on her hand tightened, and he edged forward. She had only to give the word, and her mate would take out this man—this horrible man who she thought might have an inkling of feeling for her.
Instead, she took a deep breath and let it out slow. “Before I decided to become Leonidas’s mate and possibly save the mortal realm from dangers you can’t even imagine. Father.”
He scowled, but the haughtiness had drained away.
“For the love of magic, Silas, you’re such an ass.” Guinevere’s rebuke somehow broke the tension.
A bubble of laughter worked its way up out of Rosalyn. She smirked. Leonidas’s grip on her hand relaxed, once her father had been put in his place.
Her father looked horrified and angry by turns. “I’m just stating the obvious.”
“You’re stating your rather ugly opinion,” Guinevere said, not letting him off the hook. She turned back to Rosalyn. “How can we help, dear?” She ran a look over her from head to toe. “I have to say, you’ve never looked better. Carrying an immortal dragon baby seems to suit you.”
Rosalyn felt her heart swell, and she snuck a smile to her mother, who seemed slightly recovered from the shock.
“Rosalyn, honey,” her mother said, her voice shaking, “tell us what we can do to help.” Her mother couldn’t help at all—her father’s hex had long ago stolen her magic—but she would be Rosalyn’s moral support, just like her sister Alora was for her.
Rosalyn smiled then looked at each of them in turn. “Well, I was wondering if you, in all your vast knowledge of the history of witches, know of a witch who’s been possessed by a demon? And it would be really awesome if you knew some kind of cure for that—one that wouldn’t hurt my baby.” She rested a hand on her belly. She seemed to do that more and more reflexively these days.
“What about your dragon mate?” her father asked, the distaste clear in his voice. “Why doesn’t he help you?”
“I’ve done all I can,” Leonidas said, tightly. “My healing magic only goes so far. The demon is inextricably linked to her witch magic.”
Her father looked affronted. “Well, what do you expect from me? If your mighty dragon magic can’t do it, why do you expect our lowly witch magic will accomplish anything different?”
“Well, some lowly witch magic managed to undo the curse,” Gwen said with a smile. “And your daughter has some pretty powerful magic in her. Perhaps we can work some kind of spell that might tap into her deeper self and expunge this demon essence.”
“It’s possible a spell will do it,” Leonidas said, but Rosalyn didn’t like the doubt in his voice. “Dragon magic is more elemental, and even though the fae blood that runs through my veins is powerful indeed, it’s somewhat intuitive in how it’s applied. Witch magic relies on incantations and spell-making, but when paired with ancient magic like love and death…” He turned a soft look to Rosalyn, and when his blue eyes met hers, she felt the full strength of his love. “Anything is possible.”
A hush fell over the group. It was a moment before Rosalyn could break away from the hold he had on her with
that soft gaze.
She turned back to Gwen. “Do you have any spells you think might work?”
“I’m sure there are plenty we can try, although…” Her smile faltered a little. “I’m not really sure where to start. I’ve never heard of a witch being possessed by demon.” She looked to her brother.
Rosalyn’s father frowned. “Demons possess humans, not witches,” he sniffed.
Rosalyn’s heart sank. “Maybe we can look through your book of spells, Aunt Gwen? At least try something?”
She grimaced and looked to Rosalyn’s mother for help.
Her mom cleared her throat. “Your magic is who you are, Rose. You don’t want to just blunder around, trying to break it. Believe me, I know that more than most.” Rosalyn remembered all too well—her mother went into a horrible depression after her father hexed her and wiped away all of her ability to do magic. She wasn’t the same person for a long time, maybe ever.
Her mother glared at her father. He refused to look her way.
Heat rose in Rosalyn’s face. Here she was, pregnant with their grandchild, and they couldn’t even look each other in the face, much less help with this possibly life-threatening situation of being possessed by a fucking demon. It wasn’t her mother’s fault—she was trying. Rosalyn couldn’t remember what her mother was like before the hex, but there was a harshness—a bitterness—that hadn’t existed before. At least in Rosalyn’s hazy memories of that early childhood time. Had her father always been this much of an asshole? She didn’t really know.
But he certainly was being one now.
Rosalyn lifted her hands and stepped back, bumping into Leonidas still standing behind her. “Never mind. I’m sorry I even asked.” She turned away, tugging on Leonidas’s arm to bring him with her.
“Wait.” But it wasn’t her mother or father or even Aunt Gwen who said it—it was her Aunt Alora.
Rosalyn stopped, having only gone two steps, and turned back. She waited, but she didn’t know what Alora could help with. Although, she was a purebred witch like her mother.
