by Alisa Woods
“You need powerful magic for this, right?” Alora asked.
“I need something that can separate the demon essence from my core witch magic,” Rosalyn said. “Without hurting my baby.”
“Right.” Alora stepped forward. Rosalyn’s mother was frowning but keeping quiet. “Sort of like separating one witch essence from another witch essence. Not that demons are anything like witches but…”
Aunt Gwen frowned. “Separating witch essences from one another? Whatever are you talking about?”
Aunt Alora gave a small smile. “I’m talking about that thing that happens, quite naturally, all the time… when one witch carries another for nine months in her womb.”
Aunt Gwen’s eyebrows rose, but she looked just as perplexed. However, her father was scowling, like he understood what Aunt Alora was talking about.
“A birthing spell,” Rosalyn’s mother whispered. Her eyes were wide.
“A what?” Rosalyn asked. She looked to her father, but his lips were buttoned tight. The scowl on his face had gotten darker.
Understanding dawned on Aunt Gwen’s face. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Probably because you’ve never had a child,” Rosalyn’s mother said, softly. She put a hand on Alora’s shoulder and squeezed. “I still remember, Alora, that day you were there for me at Rosalyn’s birth.”
Alora nodded fervently. “I think it could work,” she said softly. “It’s different with the demon, but maybe not substantially so.”
“Will someone please explain this to me?” Rosalyn asked, her voice hiking up.
“It’s a spell that witches perform at birth,” Aunt Gwen said, starting to smile. “As the mother grows the baby witch in her womb, their two essences—their magical beings—are entwined, much like their physical bodies. At birth, there’s a special spell the mother conjures to separate from her child magically. And, just as the physical birth is guided or shepherded by a midwife, the magical birth is also guided by a helper.”
“Your Aunt Alora was my midwife at your birth,” Rosalyn’s mother said. “The spell is simple, but it works because of the deep bond between a mother and child. I still feel that bond, Rose, even without my magic.” She stepped forward and slipped her hand into Rosalyn’s.
“Are you saying you could do this spell again?” Rosalyn asked. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“You would need to perform the spell at birth,” Aunt Alora explained, “just as any normal witch would. But before that, you might be able to use the spell to separate out the demon essence, which is inherently magical, from your witch essence. But it would have to be shepherded by someone who is already intimately familiar with your witch magic. Your mother and I were sisters, and that bond was already strong between us. For you… you would need someone close to you… someone, perhaps, who had already cleaved their magic from yours, to be sure nothing was lost in the separation.”
Rosalyn’s eyes went wide. “Can you do that?” she asked her mother.
Small creases formed at the corners of her mother’s eyes. “Not anymore.”
Rosalyn swung to face her father, but a cold fury was on his face. He said nothing.
Anger rose up and threatened to choke her. “You could lift her hex if you wanted to. I know you could.”
“It is done,” he said, bitterly. “I didn’t come here to have old wounds reopened.” He flicked a look at Leonidas.
Her mate spoke from behind her. “If you can help her…” The growl in Leonidas’s voice made it clear he would leave her father no choice.
Her father glared at Leonidas but said nothing.
Rosalyn put her hand on Leonidas’s chest. “No.” She glared at her father. “It’s obvious he doesn’t want to.” She turned her back on her father and briefly hugged her mother. “Please stay until the baby is born. I’ll need you then.” Tears were threatening to rush up and spill out of her eyes, so she wrenched herself free from her mother’s firm embrace and turned to flee the room.
“Rosalyn!” But it was only Aunt Gwen trying to convince her to stay, not her father changing his mind. Of course not. He was an asshole, through and through.
Rosalyn kept walking.
Leonidas was instantly at her back. “Rosalyn, are you sure—”
“I’m sure.” There was more tremble in her voice than she wanted, but her steps were strong and steady, carrying her away from the Great Hall. The last thing she wanted was to have her father performing some half-assed, half-resentful spell on her mother, botching the restoration of her magic. Or worse, undermining it in some way. Not that Rosalyn was angry or resentful—although she was those things too.
She just plain didn’t trust him.
And he obviously didn’t give a shit about her. If her father couldn’t bring himself to lift the hex on her mother, not even to save Rosalyn, his own daughter, and her baby, his grandchild… then fuck him.
She would do this on her own.
“How’s she holding up?” Leksander asked.
Leonidas shook his head, not sure how to answer. His brother stood at the threshold of Leonidas’s lair, and they were far enough from the receiving room that Rosalyn probably couldn’t hear.
Still, he dropped his voice. “Physically? Okay. Mentally? I think she’s still struggling with the fact that her father is undeserving of the title.”
Leksander scowled. “And the baby?”
“Still fine.” There was no sense in making his brother worry, so Leonidas left unspoken the thing haunting him—that Rosalyn’s demon essence was becoming entwined with the baby’s magical essence.
Leksander looked at him askance. Maybe Leonidas wasn’t fooling him—Leksander could taste the demon essence as well as he could—but his brother said nothing, just handed over the bag he was holding. It was plain brown, like a grocery bag with handles, but it carried something of substantial weight.
Leksander gestured to it. “An assortment from Paris’s best. Maybe that will cheer her up.”
Leonidas gave him a small smile. “Thank you, my brother.”
He gave a sharp nod. “Just let me know if you need anything else. And I’ll see what I can do about the father.”
“No,” Leonidas rushed out. Then he put one hand on the propped-open door, a not-so-subtle sign it was time for his brother to go. “Let me handle this. I promise I’ll let you know if there’s anything you can do.”
Leksander scowled but tipped his head in acknowledgment and turned to go.
Leonidas closed the door and hurried back to the receiving room where Rosalyn was curled up on one of the modern couches Leksander had conjured. She was wrapped in several blankets of the softest alpaca wool, staring blankly at the fire crackling in the stone hearth. Once upon a time, that fireplace had been the only source of heat in his lair. His brother had modernized the entire keep with central heating along with a variety of other amenities, an impressive magical undertaking that had him up working late at night. It made the drafty castle bearable, while Leonidas did his best to distract Rosalyn with as much sex as she would allow. But ever since they’d met with her family yesterday, she’d been in a dark funk. Nothing he did seemed able to draw her out.
He eased onto the couch next to her and set the bag between them. It took a long moment for Rosalyn to draw her gaze away from the fire and look at him.
Leonidas smiled brightly. “Leksander brought you treats.”
She frowned, not moving out of her little cocoon of blankets. “Not really hungry.”
It wrenched his heart so badly he couldn’t maintain the plastered-on smile. Back when he was still pursuing her—when his love for her was still a gauzy thing in the future—she had been locked up like this. Now her heart was kept from him again, and it was killing him.
“Not hungry?” he tried. “You’re a dragon’s mate, my love. You’re supposed to be hungry twenty-four seven… either for whatever food I can provide or whatever hot sex you might desire.” He waggled his eyebrow
s, hoping to at least get a smile. He’d really like to lure her back into his bed, but she was having none of either. All of it chilled him even more than the growing presence of the demon inside her.
He had to wonder if the two were related.
Her eyes showed a little more life. “Actually, I might be a little hungry.” Her weak smile tore straight into him.
“Well, let’s see what Leksander brought.” He dug into the bag and brought out two cardboard boxes. He recognized the insignia on both. He held the lighter up for her to take, forcing her to unbury a hand from her blankets. “Some of the finest chocolate croissants you will ever taste.” She took the box and peered in the little window on top with a small amount of curiosity. “If you don’t actually moan while eating that, I’ll begin to wonder whether you’re truly a dragon’s mate or not.”
That only made her frown.
He grimaced and quickly handed her the other box, which was about eight inches on a side and built from sturdier cardboard. “And these are some of the finest handcrafted chocolates you will find in all of France.”
Her smile came back a little.
His heart quickened. Leonidas dove into the bag again, but the only thing left was an enormous round of cheese—that provided the weight of the whole thing. He brought it out, tossed the bag to the floor, then gave the giant block of Roquefort a crazed look. “I’m not exactly sure what Leksander was thinking with this.” A small hiccup of laughter erupted from Rosalyn, and he smiled broadly. “We can leave it for the squirrels if you like.”
“No.” She reached for it with a growing smile. “I wouldn’t want your family to think any less of me by rejecting their thoughtful gifts.”
Leonidas’s heart sank. “For the record, my family thinks the world of you.”
She cuddled the ridiculously large amount of cheese into her lap, balancing it with the other boxes, gamely trying to keep them from tumbling to the floor. “All the same, I think I’ll start with the chocolate. At some point.”
“You don’t have to.” He lifted the cheese and the two boxes from her lap and set them on the floor by the bag. Then he snuggled closer to her, wrapping his arm loosely around her shoulders and sliding his hand into the blankets until he could rest it on her belly. “Besides, the only family that matters is right here.” When he looked up, her eyes were glassy with tears. “Please don’t cry. I’m not sure I could bear it right now.”
She blinked the tears back, then reached for his face and cupped his cheeks. She pulled him in for a soft kiss he fervently wished would turn into more, but then she eased back into her cocoon.
He studied her face, looking for some hint of what he could say or do to bring her smile back. He settled for running a finger along her beautiful red hair and tucking it behind one ear. “Just tell me what to do, sweet rose. Tell me how to wipe away what’s troubling you.”
She shook her head and dropped her gaze. “I shouldn’t want him to help me.”
He knew in an instant she was talking about her father.
“I know better,” she went on. “I know what a jerk he is. I mean, what kind of man strips away the only thing that matters in the woman he supposedly loved? What man tosses out his own daughter into the street?” She slowly drew her gaze up to meet his again. “I shouldn’t want anything from him, least of all his help. But somehow…”
Leonidas was holding perfectly still. She was finally talking about it. “Somehow, you still do. Because you’re human.”
She chirped a small laugh and shook her head ruefully. “Am I? I don’t know what I am anymore. A witch? Or maybe a demon? Who the fuck knows.”
“I know.” He snuggled a little closer and peered into her eyes. “You’re the woman I love. The one I’ve chosen for a mate. The one who has my seal and my magic and my child. You might be a witch, and that fucking demon might be still clinging to you somewhere inside, but you are as much dragon as anything else now, Rosalyn Thorne.”
Her face lit up. “I did produce some pretty impressive dragonfire there in the beginning.”
His heart swelled. “That’s what I’m sayin’, Ms. Badass.”
She laughed again, and it was such a balm to his heart. Better yet, it gave him an idea. “Maybe the way to fight this demon isn’t to try to exorcise it. Maybe the answer is to drown it out by becoming more of who you really are.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
He leaned forward, liking this idea more as he thought about it. “Every dragon’s mate becomes a little dragon-like after the sealing. Your senses heighten. You become ravenous for sex. Dragon sexual urges are programmed in, my love. We have an insane drive to procreate. As a dragon’s mate, you only get a fraction of the lust that burns in me every minute of every day.” He dipped his chin and peered at her. “Anytime you’re ready for that, just let me know.”
She smirked. “Are you saying if we have more sex it might bring out my dragon nature?”
He grinned. “There is zero chance of me saying no to that.”
She gave him a dead sexy look and climbed out of her blankets, scooting across the couch and straddling him. The small mound of her belly pressed against his chest. He groaned and ran his hands up into her hair and brought her down for a kiss. Her tongue eagerly sought his, and he groaned again as she pressed her chest and body against his. All too soon, she broke the kiss and pulled back.
“Sometimes, I’m afraid I want you too much,” she whispered, peering down at him.
He ran his hands down her body and cupped her bottom. “For a dragon, there is never too much when it comes to making love.”
He hoped that might spark this incipient lust moment they had going… but it fizzled.
She eased away from him, leaning back. “How do you know it’s not just the demon?” A frown marred her face.
He slid his hands up from her bottom to her waist, then pulled her closer. “Because I can taste the demon inside you, my love. When we’re making love, it’s the dragon part of you that surges not the demon.”
Her eyes went wide. “You can taste it? The demon, I mean.”
He sighed. “Yes. I have from the beginning.” He’d thought that would reassure her, but she just seemed freaked out by the idea.
Her eyes went suddenly sharp. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t see the use—”
“Leonidas!” Her blue eyes were blazing at him now. “You have to tell me everything.”
The air went out of him. “My love, I’m sorry.” His shoulders dropped, and he released his hold on her. “I’m feeling my way through this just like you.”
The sudden anger on her face faded and was replaced with concern. “I know.” She looked away and seemed troubled again. “All of this is so crazy and new for me. I don’t know how to do any of it.” She looked back to him, and he wanted to wipe away that lost look in her eyes.
He bit his lip. He was expecting so much from her, and they hadn’t really talked about any of it. “It’s not that complicated to be the mate of a prince of the House of Smoke. You just have to save the world by undertaking a vastly dangerous pregnancy and allow me to sweep you away to a foreign country and lock you up in a castle. Simple, really.”
Thankfully, that drew a smile out of her. “Guess I had to go for the challenge level by being possessed by a demon at the same time.”
He pretended to scowl at her. “You’ve always been rather difficult.”
She smiled even more. “Guilty.” That more hopeful look was back, lifting his heart with it. “You know, maybe if I learned more about the job, I wouldn’t suck at it so badly.”
He scowled for real. “You’re doing nothing wrong. And it just so happens we have a former princess of the House of Smoke, and she’s here in the keep.” He peered at her. “My family has been dying to see you, but I’ve held them off. I figured you didn’t need pressure.”
She pulled in a breath. “No one would ever mistake me for princess material, but now that I’m
doing this, I should try to do it right.” She climbed off his lap and stood, holding her hand out to him. “Come on. Your family can’t possibly be as fucked up as mine.”
He rose quickly from the couch. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m sure they would want to see you, but—”
“I’m sure.” She lifted her chin. “And you should probably take me up on that before I change my mind.”
He smiled and fished out his phone to text Arabella, Lucian’s mate and the current Queen of the House of Smoke. He quickly asked if she was up for a visit. Her response came back immediately.
Hell yes, get your ass over here. And bring that mate of yours.
He grinned. “Looks like we have an invitation to see the queen.”
Rosalyn smoothed her t-shirt over her baby bump.
“Are you sure they won’t mind us visiting?” she asked Leonidas, who was close at her side as they wound through the keep toward the king and queen’s lair. She hadn’t known those were their titles when she first met them, briefly, on the way out the door, just before Leonidas went wyvern. “I mean, they have a little baby to take care of.”
“If you back out now, I’m fairly certain Arabella will have my head,” Leonidas said with a smile. His hand was gentle at her back, guiding her down another turn of the labyrinth that was the castle.
She smoothed her shirt again, realizing that was a nervous tell, but she couldn’t seem to stop doing it. At two weeks, her baby bump was still small, but the baby was constantly in her thoughts. Not that she’d thought much about babies before all this craziness started. Her worries used to be about finding a magical cure for her mother and maybe some magic for herself. Now, it seemed like her entire world had telescoped down to the tiny being growing inside her.
She tried picturing him, but all she could imagine was Arabella’s tiny baby, the one Rosalyn had gotten a glimpse of at Leonidas’s door and mistook for his own dragonling. His actual baby dragonling was even tinier inside her belly, barely more than a magical wish at this point… yet, the magic seemed to grow every day with the baby himself. She could feel the baby’s magic as well as the demon inside her—daemonus invidious, Leonidas had called it; her demon of envy—growing and entwining together as the baby grew. She hadn’t told Leonidas—no need for him to worry—but she was worried. What if the demon turned the baby into something monstrous? What if she was consumed by it again?
