A jagged crack split the mirror. Racking pain drove him to his knees. His guts knotted; fire seared the marrow in his bones. His shift struck, and he threw back his head, crying out in agony. The scream transformed into the jaguar’s coughing roar, and his beast surged forward. The sharp scent of his mate’s fear drove the jaguar crazy.
He butted her with his head until she sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, so they were at eye level. He rasped his tongue over the mark on her shoulder, the spot his human half had bitten time and again. Ceara belonged to them, and the world would know it.
Nudging his head under her hand, he twisted until she stroked the perfect spot just behind his left ear. Something close to ecstasy flowed through him, and he stretched his tight muscles with tentative care. When the pain of the curse failed to materialize, he relaxed, purring in relief. His mate’s scent changed and the worry faded.
Soft hands cupped his thick jaw, and her melted-chocolate eyes shimmered with tears. “You are so beautiful, Shimeer. My mate, my proud jaguar. My black beast,” she whispered, and he nuzzled her palm, laving it with his thick tongue until she laughed and pushed him away.
Hope bloomed in his heart. They wouldn’t be helpless after all, and he would fight to the death for his mate. Let them come…he would be ready.
Cyrus and Rekkus waited beside the portal when they approached. Shim had chosen to remain in animal form, and Ceara kept pace at his side. She’d woven her beautiful hair into an elaborate crown of plaits. She wore nothing beneath the almost-sheer black dress Sarka had given her as a mating gift. The skirt brushed the floor, and her bare toes flashed from beneath the hem, the nails painted the same blood-red as the tips of her fingers, matching the shade ringing her lush mouth.
His mate looked remarkable, eerie and inhuman. Every inch the Unseelie fae, ready to cut down any foe who dared to come against them. Pride bloomed in his heart. A slight thread of nervousness teased through her smoke-and-spice scent, but nothing in her body language portrayed anything other than surety of purpose.
The Rowans agreed it would be safer for all the other para residents to clear the portal first, so they waited in silence for Rekkus to give them the signal to depart. The big man raised his hand in salute, and Cyrus nodded his head once.
A quiet cough came from behind them, and Shim snarled at the intruder who stood upwind of him. His mate rested her hand on his head, stroking once, and he settled, lowering his snarl to a soft rumble at the small, wizened man smiling at Ceara.
“I was so pleased when you accepted your mating, my dear. Just remember what I told you and everything will be fine.”
She frowned at the man, her expression turning speculative, and Shim wished their bond allowed them to communicate telepathically so he could read her mind. She blew the old man a kiss, and he hurried away down the corridor, a rosy blush on his creased cheeks.
Cyrus and Rekkus ordered all the staff of the Haus to keep well clear of the portal just in case.
It was time.
He prowled to the edge of the portal. His mate matched him step for step, her fingertips brushing in light strokes over the fur on his back. The shiny red salamander charm, his key to passing back through the portal, hung from a leather collar around his neck. Ceara clutched a black cat charm in the palm of her hand. Sarka had sworn she hadn’t known the significance of his token when she made it, but it amused her to make the cat one for Ceara.
They stepped through, clearing the arrival room without incident. Their feet and paws remained steady, though the ground shook beneath them. They’d barely cleared the portal when the vibrations rose to a crescendo. A loud boom signaled the closure of the portal, cutting them off from the safe haven of the Wiccan Haus.
An honor guard ringed the arrival platform, their elaborate armor designed for show rather than practicality. Shim studied each one, noting gaps between the plates at both shoulder and hip joints. Pointed helms with a slender nose guard and ridiculous black feathered plumes adorned their heads. He flexed his jaw, knowing the thin metal would be no match for the huge biting pressure he was capable of inflicting. A rail-thin woman stood at the center of the platform, her angled form draped in layers of silver material to match the shimmering color of her hair. An elaborate crown rested on her head, a huge emerald suspended from it to dangle in the center of her forehead. She clasped a silver staff in her left hand, a matching emerald set in the top.
Nothing like advertising your position.
Ceara sank to her knees beside him, lowering her forehead to the cold stone in an act of obeisance. She held the position, her red fingernails tapping on the floor until he reluctantly lowered his body next to her. He rested his head on his paws, keeping his eyes fixed on the Unseelie queen. Impatience gnawed at him while the queen stared down at him and his mate for a seeming eternity. His beloved didn’t twitch a muscle, although the coolness of the stone beneath them must have been uncomfortable for her.
At length, the queen rapped the butt of her staff once on the floor, and Ceara rose to her feet in a single, fluid move. Instinct told him to place his body between his mate and the clear threat she faced, but he remembered her instructions regarding the way her clan functioned. Any weakness on her part, including him adopting a dominant stance to hers, would be ruthless exploited. He held his position at her side, rubbing the side of his head against his mate’s leg.
Her gentle fingers caressed his fur, and the queen let out a brittle laugh. “Tamed to your hand indeed, little Ceara. You have been a very busy girl, haven’t you?” Her sharp, high tone was reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard. He curled his lip in irritation. As though sensing his tension, Ceara increased the pressure of her hand, and he subsided with a throaty grumble.
“The Fates have blessed me with a mate if that is what you mean, Ainfean. My mother, my queen.” His mate’s voice sounded ingenuous as she declared her relationship to the silver-haired woman. Shock rippled through him. Why didn’t she tell me?
Her fingers clenched in the thick fur behind his head, and Shim turned his thoughts back to the problem they faced. They could discuss his mate’s heritage at length, assuming they survived the next few minutes.
“Don’t play me for a fool, child!” Ainfean snapped. “You know that damned prophecy as well as I do. I always knew your grandmother was a troublemaker. I should have ripped Aislinn’s tongue out earlier before she had a chance to spew forth such treason.”
Grandmother? Shim stared at Ceara in horror, stunned at the benign expression on her face. Not one muscle flickered in reaction. She either already knew about the barbarous punishment, or had been well-schooled not to give any advantage to her mother. I fucking hate fae politics.
A crack of noise echoed around the platform, and one of the guards marched forward, summoned to action by the queen rapping her staff on the ground. Shim leaped in front of his mate, jaws wide, roaring his challenge. The guard lowered his spear and ran at him. He bent his back legs, using their powerful strength to launch himself forward, catching the guard high on his chest, knocking him to the ground. The stones ran red as he sank his sharp teeth into the guard’s throat, cutting off his scream of terror. He ripped deep, flinging the ruined chunk of flesh. It struck another of the guards with a wet slap on the front of his armor. The man turned a bit green under his helmet, and the jaguar gave him a bloody grin. Abandoning the dead guard, he paced back to his mate. The blood from the fresh corpse seeped across the stone, spreading until it soaked the hem of Ceara’s gown.
Ainfean screamed in fury, her staff raised, ready to slam it down again, but his mate threw her hand up. “Hold, my queen!”
The silver staff struck the floor so hard sparks flew from the stone. The remaining guards rushed forward.
Ceara clenched her fist capturing the tiny shower of flames, and Shim let loose another roar of challenge. The guards lacked the discipline to fight as a team. He selected the next one to die, a tall fool who rushed ahead of
the others. A wall of flame shot up, cutting them off from the guards, and he reared back, just avoiding singeing his whiskers. Flames writhed around his mate’s outstretched hands. She lifted them, driving the barrier of fire higher. A laugh escaped her ruby-red lips, and he roared his approval at the sight of his salamander in all her glory. Magnificent! A being of power, and his heart surged at the sight of her.
The guards fell back. Ceara reduced the flames until they danced just a few inches in height. Ainfean, face twisting in fury, pointed her staff at them. A bolt of green lightning burst from the emerald at the top, and he jumped forward, knocking his mate to the ground. Turning his back, he took the force of the hit.
Pain seared along his spine, worse than any he had experienced before, even during the curse. It felt like the meat boiled from his bones. Yowling in pain, the stink of burning hair and flesh filled his nostrils. Shock forced his shift, the unexpected snap and twist of bones adding to his agony. The wall of flame flashed high. Ceara crouched beside him, worry etched on her face. He resisted the urge to vomit. His back felt flayed alive, but he forced himself to his feet. They could not afford to show weakness. His mate’s warning rang in his head, and he sucked in a deep breath, locking the pain in the back of his mind.
“I’ll live, flamita. Let’s finish this,” he rasped.
His plucky little mate resumed her place beside him, her face a serene mask. Worry and fear laced through their bond, but neither of them would show it. They would give no quarter, no satisfaction to the enemy. The fire faded from her left hand, and he gripped her fingers when she reached for him. The curtain of flames lowered once more, and they faced Ainfean together.
Ceara spoke, her clear voice ringing out. “My queen, the prophecy is indeed fulfilled. My sundered soul was frozen. I have tamed my black beast.” Her fingers flexed in his and he responded in kind. “Our hearts are united and our destiny is upon us. I am queen, as my mate is king. We are the mistress and master of our clan and the emerald lands are ours to rule.” Ceara turned to Shim, pride and determination written large on her face. She spoke again. “But our emerald lands are not yours, Ainfean. My crown is not yours. My clan is not yours.”
The black cloud of anger on the queen’s face softened. “What trickery is this? Do not try to play me, little girl, for I will not yield my throne. I claimed it through spilled blood, and I will hold it through spilled blood, even yours.”
Shim stepped forward, drawing the queen’s attention from his mate. He suppressed the shudder tickling the base of his spine. Her silvery eyes lascivious, she studied his naked body, the covetous look too close a reminder of the way Isolde had once watched him. A look of possession, of ownership, nothing like the passion and love shining in his mate’s eyes. “I am Shimeer Neguar, last of my clan. Long have we dwelled deep in the Ecuadorian rain forest. I am King of All. King of Nothing. My realm is a sea of emerald as far as the eye can see. Ceara is my queen, my mate, my heart. By these words, I declare the prophecy fulfilled.”
A calculated look crossed Ainfean’s face. She regarded them both, a smile stretching her thin lips wide. “Well, well. You two must be very pleased with yourselves.” A scream of fury cut her off, the high-pitched sound echoing around the platform. A blonde woman forced herself between two guards, advancing up the steps to where they stood.
“Bitch! You should have died along with those pathetic humans you wasted so much time with.” Isolde screamed again, turning from Ceara to Shim. “You are supposed to be mine. I knew if she died the prophecy would seek to be completed and your resistance to me would disappear.” Spittle flew from her lips, insanity glinting in her blue eyes. The madness faded as her eyes rolled back, and Isolde slumped unconscious to the floor.
Lowering her staff, the queen poked the fallen woman in the stomach, grunting in satisfaction when she remained motionless. “If there is one thing I can’t abide, it’s being interrupted. Now, as I was saying, you two have played a very clever game.”
Ceara dropped a curtsey, tugging on Shim’s hand until he lowered his head in a stiff bow.
“And you are honestly content to be Queen of Nothing, Ceara?” Ainfean sounded incredulous.
“I am indeed because my mate has given me something you will never understand.”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “I had such high hopes for you, daughter, but your heart is as soft as your father’s. Please, spare me your prattle about true love and fated mates.”
Ceara’s laugh vibrated through him as he stepped behind her, pulling her hard up against his body. The need to touch her overrode any sense of self-preservation. He needed her in his arms. She lifted her hand, cupping his cheek where it rested against her shoulder. “Ah yes, there is all that of course, but the best thing my mate has given me is my own volcano to play with.”
Silver hair rippling, Ainfean shook her head in amusement before signaling to her guards to collect the unconscious Isolde. “Go and play with your black beast and your volcano, child. I expect to see you at court to pledge fealty.” She turned away in a swirl of silver, the guards forming up around her. The procession marched away, and her final cool words drifted back. “Make sure you bring your cubs with you, when you come. I shall want to meet my grandchildren.”
Shim spun his mate in his arms until she faced him. She stretched up on tiptoes, and he bent to allow her to capture his lips. The slow deep kiss stirred his cock. He took his time, relishing the sweet temptation of his mate’s mouth. She rubbed against him, moaning, and he pinched her ass as he broke their connection.
A wicked gleam lit his mate’s brown eyes. “So, what do you think of your mother-in-law?”
He growled in disgust, tossing her over his shoulder. The damage to his back had already begun to heal, his shifter metabolism further boosted by their mating bond. Their bags rested against the portal door, Rekkus having tossed them through before the portal closed. He gathered them in one hand, his other resting possessively on her ass.
“Let’s find an inn for the night, so I can show you what happens when you keep secrets from me, mi tesoro,” he growled, no heat in his words. Laughing so hard, she almost bounced right off his shoulder. He tightened his grip, flexing his fingers against the ripe cheek beneath it.
Her laughter faded, her smoke-and-spice arousal ripening the air. “I cannot wait, my love.”
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A Mate’s Redeeming Touch by Merryn Dexter
Chapter One
A force of nature, more power than grace, the gray wolf pounded through the trees. His scent overlaid the familiar route, providing a territorial marker and guiding his passage. He twisted through the towering pines, sending a shower of pebbles flying as he loped up an incline and down toward a clearing in the trees.
The click of his claws on the stones, the whisper of the breeze through the trees, and the splash of water in the nearby river were the only sounds. Birds and other forest dwellers fell silent in his path, and his tongue lolled out in a grin as he barreled along. Top of the food chain, predator elite, no creature in the vicinity could offer him challenge. He was magnificent, a dominant in his prime, the undisputed master of his surroundings, king of all he survey….
“Hey, kiddo.”
The wolf drew up so sharply, his rear paws collapsed beneath him, leaving him sitting like a fucking lapdog at the feet of Gee Rivermoon, bear shifter, enigma, and one huge burr in his fur. At six foot seven, Gee was one of the very few men associated with the Tao pack who over-topped him in his two-legged form.
The wolf had very little time for two-legs these days. He could patrol more efficiently as a wolf. Two-legs had an annoying habit of talking, something he preferred to avoid in either of his forms. The bear gave him a look he recognized all too well from his wayward youth. Gee had something to say, and he’d better damn well listen.
“We need to talk, Ven.”
Being right sucked ass. The wolf growled and retreated a few steps from the huge shifter.
“Shift.” Gee spoke softly, but his thick arms were folded in a take-no-nonsense stance. The wolf curled a lip and growled his defiance again, making sure to be out of swiping range first in case the bear decided he’d pushed his luck. A sharp scent caught his attention, and his head whipped around to face the new threat. A large reddish wolf paced from beneath the pines, the flecks of gold in his thick fur catching the sun as he prowled closer. Ven shifted his position until he could watch both the bear and the approaching wolf. The Enforcer had come for him.
He was royally fucked. Wolf burger with a side order of those nasty fried pickles Gee loved to dish up in his bar.
Lowering his massive bulk, he adopted a stance close enough to deferential to get away with it. Tension vibrated through him as he braced for the first sign of attack. A shimmer in the air caught him off guard as the reddish wolf transformed into his human form. Why would he shift to a weaker form if he’s come to kill me?
Ryker rose to his feet, long black hair drifting gently in the breeze doing nothing to soften the stark planes of his face. The blunt features and black eyes spoke of their shared Native American heritage, but the Enforcer was no brother to Ven. Angling his body to mirror Gee’s, face expressionless, Ryker spoke a single word.
“Shift.”
The dominance in the command rolled across the open space toward him, compelling the most instinctive part of his makeup. Ven reached for his human form, shocked when his wolf resisted his command. He gave a hard mental shove and tried again but his animal snarled its defiance inside his mind. Digging deep, he tried again.
And again.
Panic rose as the wolf refused to shift and Ven cast around the clearing, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact. If the Enforcer thinks I’m deliberately disobeying him…. The trickle of water over rocks caught his attention and he loped quickly over to the river. It ran slow and smooth here and the surface barely rippled as he stared into the reflective surface.
Soul of Flame Page 8
