by Bonnie Vanak
“It’s the truth.” Damian regarded Jamie with a hooded gaze. “It’s why I sent Nicolas after you with the lure I knew would tempt you beyond anything. He taught you magick, at my request.”
Maggie made a startled sound. Nicolas was banished for following Damian’s orders?
“You used me,” Jamie blustered. “You knew I was a virgin. It was my first time and all I wanted…you screwed me and then left. You promised to teach me magick and you used it to get me into bed and then dumped me. I was a fool to trust you. Well, Damian, I got you back. Kane was more than happy to take me into his family and teach me all he knew. The Morphs have real power.”
But a quiver threaded through her soft voice. Maggie sensed the girl’s uncertainty.
“I did seduce you. But I didn’t leave you, Jamie. I went to find out how to bring you back here.” Damian gave a gentle smile. “I knew the truth would come as a terrific shock to you.”
Jamie sprung off the bed. “Nothing shocks me. You’re just a bastard, Damian. A shifter who uses mortal women for pleasure.”
“Other women, perhaps. Not you. There is more between us.”
“No,” she whispered. “It was just sex. There’s nothing between us, and never will be.”
“It wasn’t just sex, Jamie. You can’t deny it. Try to run and hide. It won’t change the truth,” Damian said softly, watching her.
“I’ll deny it all I can. No one can tell me what to do.” Jamie whirled around, anguish and anger twisting her pretty face. “Not the Morphs and not you. No one.”
With lithe grace, she bounded across the room, vaulted over the windowsill and vanished. Shock filled Maggie. Jamie had just leapt three stories down, just like a pixie.
Nicolas removed his arm and opened the closet door. Maggie blinked at the bright sunlight flooding the room. Damian didn’t even glance up.
“Should I go after her?” Nicolas asked.
Damian sighed as he toyed with the quilt’s edge. “Leave her be. She’s safe, for now. They still think of her as their puppet.”
“This isn’t the first time she’s been here. Is it, Dai?”
The pack leader closed his eyes a minute. “No. The pack doesn’t know, either.”
“I would never tell,” Nicolas assured him.
Nicholas clasped Maggie’s hand, his palm warm and strong. Nicolas pulled her forward, sliding a protective arm about her. “Damian, this is Margaret. Maggie.”
“Hello, Maggie.” Damian had sharp eyes, green as a turbulent sea, but his smile was kind. “Thank you for coming back to us. We’ve sorely missed you.”
His gaze flicked away for a moment. “I’m deeply sorry we lost your parents. Richard and Carla were good people. I knew they only left out of fear for you.”
His warm, deep voice sent waves of reassurance through her. Though he sat up in a sickbed, he radiated authority. Definitely the alpha male of the pack.
She glanced up at Nicolas. His entire manner seemed more relaxed and confident than downstairs. He too radiated the confidence of an alpha male instead of the subservience of a beta. Confusion filled her. Why then, wasn’t Nicolas leading his own pack?
Too many questions swirled in her mind. She focused her attention on Damian.
“Nicolas wasn’t my beta when you and your parents were still with the pack,” Damian answered her unspoken question.
“I was without a pack. Damian took me into his.”
“After he saved my hide.” Damian sat back against his pillows, his color growing sallow. A grimace crossed his face. He made no effort to hide it. Maggie realized the extent of his pain.
She went to his side, felt his pulse. Thready and weak. His skin felt ice-cold and clammy. She found a bowl and filled it with warm water, and began bathing his brow.
“I thought you were from Colorado. When did you live in New Orleans and how did you meet my parents?” Maggie asked, deeply curious about the pack leader.
“I spent my boyhood in the bayou. When the Morphs killed off my parents and our pack, I left and found distant kin who needed a leader, including your parents.”
“Who is Jamie to you?” Maggie wrung out the cloth.
“A mortal,” he said drowsily. “Someone I met in New Orleans when I went back there a while ago. Mmm, this feels good. Nicolas, don’t give her up. I want her to stay.”
“So do I,” Nicolas murmured. He stayed her hand as Damian’s eyes fluttered shut.
“Let him rest. Come on, let’s get settled.”
Chapter 14
Healing the pack members stripped Maggie of much-needed energy. Nicolas brought her to the kitchen for food, hoping to replenish her. He didn’t want sex now. Maggie was too inquisitive. Experience taught him that he lowered his natural defenses during lovemaking. Sex with her brought his emotions to the surface.
After they ate, she rested while he went outside on the wood deck. Nicolas braced his hands on the pine railing. A wrought iron table and chairs in a corner commanded an excellent view of the sloping snow-dusted meadow and forest. Once the cushions had been bright green and bedecked with blue stripes. Time and sunlight faded the cushions. They looked sad and neglected.
Like the pack did, he thought.
Tension rifled through the lodge. It felt as tranquil as a battlefield.
Every hour he worried more that things would spin out of control. He’d promised himself and Maggie no more killing or violence. But the pack didn’t know that.
They’d expected him to deliver into their hands a killer trained to dispatch Morphs and Kane, the leader. His acceptance was conditional upon those terms.
Where would he be without his pack? Nicolas stared at the rolling meadows, the verdant green of the firs and the white aspens. He remembered the days of roaming alone, the gutcrunching loneliness so sharp he howled into the night. Pack was necessary for survival. He needed this pack, and Maggie.
Yet if Maggie discovered the truth about him, would she grow as fearful as the others? Just as some others did now, would she look at him with wary suspicion, expecting him to turn traitor?
He waved his hands in the air. Colors swirled in the air as a lethal dagger materialized in his hand. Nicolas examined the blade. Honed and gleaming, it represented his life. He’d killed the enemy over and over to prove his loyalty to the pack. Nicolas, the pack’s fiercest warrior and destroyer of Morphs. Sometimes he wondered if he knew anything other than violence, death and blood.
Until Maggie came into his life, he didn’t.
The realization slammed into him with the force of a bullet. Nicolas threw the dagger downward. It landed on the wood deck, quivering from the violence of his toss.
He was tired of death and killing. He wanted a hearth, home, family. He wanted Maggie, and her stubbornness, her gentle touch, her peace.
Once he only achieved that balance with music. Finally the music had died as well in his relentless quest to search and destroy their enemies.
No one was around. Nicolas climbed down the deck steps with his accustomed surreptitious caution. He walked to a small outbuilding in the distance, close to the western edge of the property. The square building was about the size of a three-car garage. Nicolas took the key above the door frame, unlocked the padlock and went inside. Two double-paned windows allowed in thin light.
The first room was used for storing winter equipment for the pack. Skis, snowshoes and shovels neatly lined the walls in racks. Nicolas fished a key out of a pail holding rock salt and unlocked the door to the second room.
He flicked the switch. Light flooded the room. There were no windows in this room. Nicolas disliked the idea of someone spying on him so he had installed a ventilation system to draw in fresh air from outside. Worktables long in disuse were covered in dust. Saws, chisels and other tools looked neglected. The interior smelled of old sawdust. In the middle of the room sat a half-finished rocker. Nicolas crept over to the corner, sorting through a cache of old horse blankets no one used. Very gently, he lifted the instrument from its hi
ding place.
The case was cracked leather, but when he opened the lid, the guitar sat gleaming in the dim light. Nicolas sat on the cold wood floor and settled the instrument into his lap. Elusive peace settled over him.
Very softly, he began to play. He didn’t dare allow others to hear him. Music soothed his turmoil and settled his troubled thoughts. He imagined Maggie as he strummed an old folk tune. Maggie, with her tousled auburn curls, the sunny smile on her mobile mouth, her earnest expression. His Maggie.
After a few minutes he packed the guitar away and hid it again. If anyone from the pack spotted him, it would arouse suspicions. Nicolas, playing music? What had happened to the warrior who fought to keep them safe? Was he growing soft? Weak? Weak Draicons couldn’t resist the allure of power the Morphs offered.
Weak Draicons were dangerous to the pack.
Once someone had caught him singing and commented on it. Nicolas had never forgotten the male’s careless laugh about how singing love songs tarnished his fierce warrior’s image.
Outside, the temperature had plummeted. Small flakes drifted down from the leaden sky. Early snow, nothing unusual. He stole back to the lodge, brushing light powder off his jeans.
In the kitchen, Katia sat on a bar stool, talking with Aurelia. Aurelia, who had been like a mother to him, and had been dying. Joy bounded through him. He stole up and enveloped her in a hug.
“Nicolas!” She pulled back, cupped his face with affection. He inspected her features, relieved to see she looked healthy. “Maggie, your Maggie, healed me. Healed all of us who were ill. She’s amazing, Nicolas. Thank you for bringing her back.” The older female gave his hand a tight squeeze.
He looked around with interest, expecting to see his mate. “Where’s Maggie? Is she up yet?”
Katia glanced away. “Baylor and the others found Morph tracks on their hunt for food. When they came back with the game, they took Maggie with them to go hunting. They were looking for you but…”
Nicolas’s heart dropped to his stomach.
“They said now was a good time to see how well you trained her, Nicolas. She is the one foretold to kill our enemy, isn’t that so?” Aurelia looked confused as she pushed back a hank of graying blond hair.
His mouth flattened. “ Legends aren’t always truth. Sometimes they become greater than the people themselves.”
And I should know that, he mused. His own image, projected in stories told to frightened children, had been legend.
“She should return soon. I doubt they’d take her far, her first hunt. I know they should have brought you along, but…” Katia’s voice trailed off. Both females looked deeply troubled.
Understanding flashed through him. Led by Baylor, the males were starting to separate Maggie from him. They still didn’t trust Nicolas, but they needed Maggie. Enfolding her into their brotherhood would drive a wedge between him and his mate.
Rage filled him. He wanted to tear, rip, maim those who dared to spirit away his mate. Nicolas threw back his head and released an earsplitting howl.
Katia and Aurelia cried out and backed away. Fear twisted their faces. He looked at them and saw in their eyes the beast they thought he was. Nicolas drew in a calming breath and thought of his music. He remembered Maggie’s gentleness, her passion in making love.
Finally he was able to control his emotions. Nicolas held out his hands.
“It’s all right. I’m going after her.”
“Please don’t, Nicolas. Maggie needs to spend some time alone with the pack. Let them get to know her.”
“Through fighting, Aurelia? Through killing? Just as all of you grew to know me?” He rubbed his tattoo in frustration. “Maggie is nonviolent. I had to teach her how to kill Morphs. But I made a big mistake. She’s not meant to be a killer.”
The two females stared at him. “But she must,” protested Katia. “She’s our last hope.”
There had to be another way.
“Leave her be for now, Nicolas.” Aurelia laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Let her get to know the males first. Perhaps you are wrong about her destroying Morphs. She may return just as triumphant as you were when you went on a hunt.”
He doubted it. But for Maggie’s sake, he hoped Aurelia was right.
———
Hours later, as he sat by the crackling fire in the great room, Maggie returned.
Nicolas watched his mate shuffle inside as if a great weight dropped on her slender shoulders. She unsheathed her two daggers. Crimson droplets splattered on the stone hearth. Methodically she cleaned her weapons, sheathed them, then dropped the belt on the floor. Staring into the fire, her expression appeared blank and unfocused.
She did not acknowledge Nicolas or anyone else. His heart twisted.
He’d taught her how to kill so she could become the weapon of legend, foretold to destroy their enemies. Maggie did not acknowledge the approving slaps on her shoulder, the nods of respect from the males. She remained quiet, emotionless.
A robot trained to kill.
He ached to see beyond the stone wall she’d erected to shut others out. Nicolas went to her side, crouched down and took her hand. It felt chilled, the skin not warm and soft as when they’d first met, but rough, as if she’d physically grown a hard shell around her body.
“Mags, look at me,” he ordered softly.
She turned slightly, enough for him to glimpse the barrenness in her eyes. Once they were filled with life, determination and love. Now they showed only the reflection of flames crackling in the fire.
“We killed more than two dozen. I speared a few in the heart, as you showed me.”
Detachment flattened her voice. Nicolas squeezed her hand, hurting from the pain he knew she’d hidden deep inside. He’d achieved his goal and forced her to acknowledge her Draicon heritage. But at what price?
“More than a few she nailed. Good fighting. Never seen anything like it. Didn’t even flinch when their blood splashed her hands. She just kept on fighting.”
Respect rang in Baylor’s voice as the other males grinned and nodded in agreement. Nicolas took both of Maggie’s hands into his, turning them over and examining them. No trace showed of the burns from the Morphs’ acid blood.
“Were you badly hurt?” he asked.
A little shake of the head. “You push past the pain and just focus on the kill. Remember, they’re evil. Germs that must be eradicated. They’re bacteria and you’re a white blood cell, surrounding the enemy and destroying them, no matter what your own personal cost.”
His words, tossed back at him in this flat voice. Nicolas winced, grieving at the loss of the Maggie he’d known before he’d taught her to fight. Before the mating…
Alarmed, he drew back, dropped her hands. The mating. When they’d exchanged magickal powers, emotions, memories. His warrior’s strength. Her healing.
His killing nature.
He swore softly. What the hell had happened to her?
Nicolas reached out, felt her thoughts. Drained. Exhausted. Numb.
Nicolas outlined her soft mouth with his index finger. “Maggie, Maggie,” he said softly. He touched her lips with his in the barest of kisses. She barely responded to the gentle pressure. Deeply troubled he touched her cheek. Chilled, as if his Maggie had turned into a frozen block of hard ice.
“You’re tired, needing refreshment,” he murmured. “Come with me, darling. I’ll keep you warm. I’ll never let you grow cold again.”
Baylor and the other males gathered around. Nicolas smelled them before he heard them.
“Maggie, we were headed into the kitchen for dinner. You need to replenish your energy,” Baylor said.
A low growl rumbled in his chest. Nicolas drew Maggie close. “She’s not going with you anymore,” he shot back, lightly stroking her spine.
Maggie did not respond as Nicolas nuzzled the top of her head. Before the night was over, she would respond to him. “Maggie will restore her energy with me.”
Baylor folded h
is arms across his chest. “She’s too spent,” he challenged. “We can care for her needs better than you, Nicolas. Go back to playing your guitar.”
So he had been heard after all. Nicholas’s chest felt hollow.
Other males murmured, cleared a space as if expecting the pair to openly challenge each other.
“Back off,” Nicolas said softly. “Maggie is my mate, Baylor. My responsibility. If you’re foolish enough to challenge me on this, wait until I care for her.”
“You’re too dangerous for her, Nicolas, music or no music,” Baylor retorted.
His smile was all teeth. Nicolas felt his canines descend. “Music can be dangerous,” he agreed. “Right now I’m fighting the urge to bash you over the head with my guitar.”
His bold, open stare stated his aggressive threat. Baylor finally lowered his gaze, shuffled back. Nicolas stalked toward the bedroom, his arm securely about his mate’s waist.
In their bedroom, he slowly undressed her. She stood mutely, like a large child, her gaze dull and unfocused. Pain sluiced through him as he delved into Maggie’s thoughts and saw horrific images. Blood, bodies, glee at inflicting violence on the faces of the Draicon and the Morphs, until Morph and Draicon merged into one indistinguishable dark mass. In that battle, they had become one and the same.
Steeling himself, he pushed further into her dark memories of the hunt. He saw Maggie hang back, then cry out as the Morphs advanced and Baylor and the other males egged her on, urged her to attack. Yet she stood there helplessly until a Morph launched itself at her.
Each time the creature sank its sharp teeth into her arm, the wound immediately healed. She seemed indestructible. Cries echoed in her mind, the urgent shouts of the Draicon to kill their enemy, slay them… Help us, Maggie, help us, we’re dying….
In her mind Nicolas saw Maggie lift the daggers in her hands and plunge them over and over and over, a frenzied, uncaring robot trained to destroy. Blood coated her hands, her fingers. She looked down at those slender digits, dripping with warm, wet crimson and something inside her died. Numbness overcame her. She had ceased to feel, or think.
Swearing softly, he pulled out of her thoughts.
