by Dalia Wright
The war might be won. Not without cost. Never without cost. And as long as there were werewolves, conflict existed a stone's throw away.
Werewolves were never meant to sit quietly and live without stirring the waters, without announcing their presence somewhere. They fought, killed, murdered and loved the same as any human. Perhaps more so, since their emotions could be rather concentrated, making them boiling cesspits of passion.
Ordri shivered as she examined her mate, still torn between the conflict of whether he happened to be the best thing that had ever happened in her life, or the worst.
She did know, somewhere down the line, that losing him might hurt more than expected. Certainly more than when her former husband had his throat torn out.
Just when she thought she didn't know how to feel, that she was callous and lacked something fundamental that everyone else possessed – Bron showed her otherwise. He taught her that she did feel. She did love.
There might have been a strong sense of relief with the act as well.
Everyone had survived the conflict of the old Vladomir house, though the worse wounded needed several weeks to heal from the vanadium bullets that poisoned their systems. Sebastian and Kostya fought side by side, and went down together, kicking and yelling. Filip bore one extra scar in his impressive collection. Yanus had one shattered leg, and Elinor two broken ribs. Ordri suffered the least injuries, aside from bruises that healed within a day.
The hold out from Yanus and Elinor did massive psychological damage to the invaders, though they might have succeeded once the bullets ran out, just by piling with better organization into the tunnel. The tight confines still gave beasts like Bron leeway to scrap, but the numbers would push him back.
Bron. What a magnificent hunk of werewolf specimen he was. Any woman would feel secure under his protection, once you got past the whole confusion and misunderstandings.
He wanted a home, and Ordri wanted to be loved. He wanted a name, and Ordri could give him hers. Of course, maybe celebrations might have to hold off until the threat was removed from the Bulgarian mountains once and for all – but Elinor Spirova felt positive, enlightened by the idea that the Vladomir house had inflicted fatal damage to the Russian movement.
“We lost a total of zero people,” Elinor had said. “Zero, and they lost twenty-one. That's one hell of a humiliating defeat. I'd be hanging my tail in shame. They can't have much left to their invasion force.”
“Lucky we had that secret passage, really,” Ordri said. “I doubt we would have been as lucky in the open confines of the house.”
“Lucky,” Elinor agreed, wincing as she clutched her sides, where the ribs healed and itched. “Still could have gone fucking wrong.” She groaned. “Can't wait til I get back to my husband. He's sick out of his mind with constant worry that one of my excursions will be my last.”
Ordri smiled, thinking of Elinor's crippled, wheelchair-bound husband, who quietly managed affairs at the Spirova fortress.
She thought of how things had been. The five of them, Markus, Danniven, Arina, Luelle and her, friends with the humans in the mountains. Their friendship had been one catalyst towards the overthrowing of the flesh eaters, the clans who insisted on the ancient ways. The death of Arina's family and her escape eventually led to Ricten's death years later, and a new world for them to go to in North Dakota.
Then there were the Russians who ran that hotel in Sapareva Banya, Frey and Evo, who between them managed to turn their little hotel into a moot point of resistance, taking in the wounded and helping to bring one major victory against the invaders – who came because of Luelle's escape.
Strange, to see how things wrapped together, and worked out in the end. Strange to think how much their world had changed in the past thirty years.
Strange to see the white wanderer turn up at their gate, to help them cinch one more victory in the face of potential destruction. His presence might have dragged them into the face of danger, isolating the leaders in unexpected circumstances – a bad oversight by their side, really.
Yet, it had actually turned out to be the one thing that might have solidified their advantage, bolstered their defense.
I still don't know who you are, really, Bron, Ordri thought, staring at his slumbering form, which looked peaceful and happy. And I feel like we might have a long way to go yet. Because you're hella awkward at times.
He was, she thought in amusement, her white knight.
“I know you're staring at me,” he said then, directly referring back to his creepy staring a few weeks back.
“Shh. Let me examine your pretty face for a moment longer without any interruptions. I was just on that freckle behind your ear.”
“Hmpf.” Bron opened dark pink eyes to give her a fond, languid smile. Again, the stark contrast of his features almost took her breath away. And to think, this person really had dropped out of nowhere and chosen her to be his mate?
We shall have strong and beautiful children, Ordri contemplated, imagining the sentence tolled out in her head in a serious tone. She held a straight face for a moment, before the absurdity of her thought made her laugh.
“What did I do wrong, now?” Bron said, confused, his brows knitting together as he tried to work out what his next fault was.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Ordri Gregorovitch stroked her new mate's rough cheek, imagining the future panning ahead of them, and all the possibilities it offered.
To think she would have stagnated here, too afraid to take the next step, to admit that change needed to happen.
Sometimes, change came and bitch-slapped you in the face, whether you expected it or not.
A change in life, in love, and attitude. “I think I can grow to love you,” she said to him at last, and his eyes widened.
“You 'think'? Ordri, I already love you. You're playing catch up at this point,” he said, with a playful grin.
Oh. Wow.
That was slightly unexpected.
“It's not so fast and easy for me, Bron. I just need time. To accept that this happiness is real, you know. That it's not gonna run away.”
“I understand,” he said, his pale lips spreading and curving upwards. “I'm still coming to terms with things as well. And being proven wrong at every turn, apparently.”
“Your fault, for trying to steal a Gregorovitch woman.”
“Uh, 'trying’? I succeeded. Unless the person lying next to me in bed is just a figment of my imagination.”
“Unfortunately, I'm not,” she said, which prompted Bron to tackle her in bed, mock indignation upon his features.
There was definitely no figment of imagination bullshit going on here. This was real.
Her heart beat, and remembered how to love again. Her body reacted to his touch like a swimmer breaking the surface of water, taking in a great lungful of air, glad to be alive.
On top of all this, it seemed the Bulgarian clans would finally be at peace.
No more shitty conflict, at least for a good few years. Ordri intended to take full advantage of that peacetime.
The End
The Preacher’s Daughter’s Secret
By: Elaine Young
CHAPTER ONE:
Jake Owenson was crossing across Central Park on his way home when he saw Rosalie Mitchell standing in the corner of Fifth and 86th happily munching away on a hotdog. He did a double take and skidded to a stop.
Was it? He asked himself. Could it be? He couldn’t believe his eyes and had to blink twice to make sure he wasn’t imagining things; after all, it had been more than six years since he had last laid eyes on the then twelve-year-old girl. He remembered a round, chubby face that always seemed to be smiling, mischief-filled blue eyes, and two thick golden, blond braids hanging over her shoulders. And before him stood a young woman on the cusp of womanhood. She was beautiful with her blond hair flowing in loose waves down her back, with a long, flowery dress that accentuated her shapely and graceful figure. He couldn’t be sure it
was her, but he took a stab at it anyways.
“Rosalie?”
The slender girl turned at the sound of her name and searched the faces nearby to locate the voice. Her eyes skimmed over him – they were still the blue he remembered, but she obviously hadn’t recognized him. He took a few steps in her direction and called out to her again.
“Rosalie, it’s me, Jake.”
Her eyes snapped back towards him and recognition dawned on her face. She did a little two-step of excitement and clasped her hands together in delight.
“Jake! Jake Owenson! How long has it been!”
“Long enough that you didn’t recognize me!” he teased.
“How could I when you’ve grown up so much! You are positively handsome now,” she teased him right back, thinking of the lanky, awkward boy of six years ago. There was definitely nothing awkward about him now. The boyish features had filled out into a handsome face and the lanky frame looked solid and athletic. His floppy brown hair was groomed into a close cut which accentuated the straight nose and the strong jaw. Even his walk was different, she noted – it was cool and confidant.
He blushed a little at the compliment, thinking how very grown up she had become. The girl he remembered had been rebellious and outspoken; some things had obviously remained unchanged.
“What are you doing in the city?”
“Enjoying some freedom! I’m here for Rumspringa,” she explained.
“Oh,” Jake said, a dark cloud briefly shadowed on his face as he recalled his Rumspringa and his subsequent banishment from the community when he had decided he didn’t want to commit to the Amish faith.
“Did you come with a lot of people?”
“Nope, just on my own. But father doesn’t know that. He thinks Janice Greely, Isabelle Hendrix and I came together. Which we did, but we’re all doing our thing, and I haven’t seen them since getting here.”
“Still being rebellious, huh.”
“You know me,” she said lightly.
“So are you enjoying your trip so far?”
“I’m loving the trip! I think I might be falling in love with New York,” she gushed.
“That’s how I felt when I came here. And I never looked back.”
“Well I can see how that would happen.” She looked at her watch and looked at him. “Anyways, I won’t keep you much longer, I’m sure you were headed somewhere….”
Jake was about to say that yes, he was on his way to a meeting, when he experienced an odd stirring within him. Gazing straight into her clear blue, sparkling eyes, he realized the emotion he was experiencing was attraction. And not just a passing attraction or appreciation for a good-looking woman, but a very physical longing to stay in her company, a reluctance to not let her go just yet. He realized he felt intrigued by her and wanted to spend more time with her. In fact, he wanted to ask her out, which wouldn’t be smart at all because she wasn’t a girl to trifled with, and he couldn’t offer her anything more because he was no longer a part of her world. Telling himself he must be logical, he prepared himself to say goodbye and to tell her it had been lovely seeing her, but he found himself asking her if she had any plans for the evening instead. As she happily told him her evening was wide open, he told himself it was just one dinner – how much harm could it really do?
CHAPTER TWO:
He was on top of her. Kissing every inch of her body. Well familiar with the touch of his skillful hands, Rosalie closed her eyes, anticipating his next move, aching to be consumed by his love. But just as things started to heat up her stomach rolled over and a wave of nausea startled Rosalie out of her sleep and broke through her dream. Her eyes snapped open and she realized with a whoosh of intense disappointment that it had all been nothing but a dream. She sat up straight and waited for the nausea to subside, but it didn’t and had her running for the bathroom. Once she was done she washed her face with cold water and buried her face in the towel waiting for the queasy feeling in her stomach to subside.
This was the fifth night in a row she was waking up nauseous and sick. She could only conclude that she was so lovesick it was having a physical effect on her. Memories of the time she had spent with Jake in New York were crowding into her dreams now; she thought of him all day and all night…couldn’t help it…would she ever be free of him? It wasn’t very likely given everything that had transpired between them from the moment they had run into each other a few months ago. As she stepped out in to the hallway, the door across from her bedroom opened and Amanda’s concerned face peeked out.
“Rosalie?” Her sister’s voice was groggy from sleep. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, everything’s fine,” Rosalie assured her, “Go back to sleep.”
Amanda stifled a yawn and nodded.
“Okay – if you’re sure.”
Rosalie made her way back into bed and muffled her groans of frustration into her pillow. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? From the moment she had run into him by Central Park, her entire trip had quickly become centered around him. After that first dinner together they had become virtually inseparable. Things between them had moved at a shockingly fast pace. Part of it was timing constraints, since both Jake and Rosalie knew they wouldn’t have much time together, they didn’t bother wasting any by playing games. But part of it was they had clicked instantly. And the physical attraction was undeniable.
She remembered their first kiss… It had happened after two weeks of seeing each other almost every day. They were watching the skaters at Rockfeller Center when she had turned to him and asked him bluntly why he had made no attempts to kiss her or touch her at all.
“Don’t you find me attractive?”
Jake had been flabbergasted by the question.
“Of course I do,” he replied.
“Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”
“Because… because Rosalie, you are so innocent and so pure, I can’t do that to you, especially when I can’t offer you anything more than whatever this is.”
“Who said anything about offering me more?” she had challenged. “I’m here because I want to be here. I’m old enough to know what I want and I know I want you. I don’t want to be pure and innocent with you.”
But Jake didn’t look convinced.
“I can’t Rosalie; if I kiss you, I’ll be crossing a line and I don’t know where that line will end. I respect you too much to hurt you in any way.”
She had smiled at him mischievously, flattered he found her so irresistible. She could tell from the stubborn set of his jaw he meant what he said. He wouldn’t stop being respectful and he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. So she decided to take matters into her own hand. Without breaking eye contact, she stepped closer towards him until their bodies were almost touching. She leaned her head towards him, her lips brushing against his ear and whispered,
“Don’t you think it would be fun to find out where that line ends?” And then she kissed him.
CHAPTER THREE:
Amanda twisted her hands together; she did that whenever she was especially nervous. It was a childhood habit.
“Rosalie, have you been feeling alright?”
Puzzled by the question Rosalie shrugged her shoulders, “Yes of course. Why do you ask?”
“Are you coming down with a flu or something?”
“No, I’m completely fine.”
“Well I’ve been hearing you up throwing up the last few nights…”
“Oh.” A flush of color flooded Rosalie’s cheeks as she remembered her very explicit dreams about Jake.
“I’m sure it’s just a stomach thing or something I ate that didn’t sit well with me.”
“And you haven’t been feeling anything else? A little more tired than usual or sleepy?”
That made Rosalie pause – now that she was thought about it she had been feeling extremely tired these past few weeks too. No matter how well she slept the night before, by midmorning she felt like all the energy had been sapped out of her.
<
br /> The look on Rosalie’s face was enough to answer Amanda’s question. She checked to make sure the bedroom door was still closed and listened for the sound of any footsteps in the hallway. Satisfied there was nobody outside their door she dropped her voice to whisper and asked bluntly,
“Rosalie, when was the last time you had your period?”
Rosalie was so shocked to hear Amanda ask about something she considered unladylike to discuss that the implication of what she was asking didn’t sink in right away.
“Rosalie!” Amanda’s voice rose a little higher and she shook Rosalie’s hand gently to get her attention.
“This is very important, when did you last have you period?”
A sick feeling swirled in the pit of Rosalie’s stomach and another bout of nausea rolled over her. This one from fear, because as her brain scanned through dates and times and quickly did the math, she realized what Amanda was getting at.
“Oh my God,” she whispered softly before sinking to her feet. She turned large, fearful eyes towards Amanda, “Oh my God,” she repeated again. “What am I going to do?”
Amanda went down on her knees until she was at eye level with Rosalie. Her eyes were filled with sorrow and sympathy.
“Oh love, what did you do? Is it one of the boys here?”
An image of Jake flashed before Rosalie’s eyes. Could he still be considered as one of the boys here? No. Her father had banished him from the community years ago. She shook her head.
“No,” she said dully, “it isn’t one of the boys here.”
“Rumpsringa.” Amanda concluded grimly.
“Yes.”
“How far along do you think you are?”
“Maybe a month? A month and a half? I really don’t know,” Rosalie confessed, desperately thinking of the endless weeks of lovemaking she had enjoyed with Jake. She had no way of knowing which one of the times had resulted in this.
“How can you not know? When did you…when…” Amanda struggled to find a delicate way of phrasing the question.
