The bear den in Northern Ohio, like all brown and black bear dens in the world, was of Native American descent. Only polar bears and some nearly extinct clans in Europe were of different racial origins. The interior of the Cleveland den was filled with communal cooking pits, hide tents, and lots of hunky Native American men. That they were also were-bears made them even hotter in her mind, if that were possible.
She flipped off the water, and her skin screamed in relief. It had been an invigorating shower. She squeezed the water from her shoulder-length blonde hair and wrapped the towel around her curvy body. She felt positively dwarfed by the tall women in the den she lived in, where there wasn’t a woman shorter than 528” while she had stopped growing at 5’3”. But here in this den was a healing nymph, a witch, and a vampire who were just barely taller than her. Finally, she could look a woman in the eyes.
“Danika?” the witch, Elizabeth, mate to twin were-bears, called from outside the bathroom. Danika was staying in a miniscule guest tent, containing only a bed and loveseat in the main area and a tiny bathroom.
“In here, Elizabeth,” she called.
Elizabeth moved the curtain that separated the two areas and said, “I brought your skirt back. Ash said that it should last through the party tonight but that the seams are shot and you should consider replacing it.”
Ash, Elizabeth’s husband, was a master craftsman. His clothing creations were highly sought after, not only in their own den, but also in other dens. Danika took her beloved skirt from Elizabeth and smiled. “It was my mom’s. Or, rather, the woman who raised me. I wear it for celebrations because it makes me feel connected to her.” It felt like blasphemy to consider replacing it.
“Oh, she’s gone to the great bear spirit?”
“Yeah, she was human and mated to a male bear and became pregnant when she was nearly fifty. She died in childbirth and so did the child.”
Elizabeth was quiet for a moment, and Danika turned around to face the mirror, reaching for her hairbrush. She felt cool fingers touch her shoulder blades and she jumped, spinning around with a short growl.
“I’m sorry, but those marks on your back? What are they?” Elizabeth asked, her head tilted in curiosity.
“I don’t know. Mama found me wandering naked in the woods near the den when I was a toddler. They estimated my age at three. The bears said I smelled like a shifter, but because I’m light skinned, they didn’t think I was a bear. When I turned eighteen, I never shifted into anything and I still haven’t.” That was almost six years ago. Six long years wondering what she was. She wasn’t aging. She still looked eighteen. So everyone believed she was a supernatural creature. But just what, no one knew.
“They never found out where you came from?” Elizabeth looked both saddened and amazed.
“No one ever claimed me or contacted the authorities.” She sighed. “But the marks? I was found with them. They thought my people had branded me. Some of the primitive shifter groups will mark their people. But none in the states had marks like these.”
It hadn’t been pleasant growing up as a castaway. Never knowing just why she’d been wandering around alone in the woods with no identification. Mama named her Danika, which in the ancient language meant white winged woman.
Danika could picture the marks easily in her mind — two skewed white wings over her shoulder blades. They looked almost like birthmarks, not like tattoos or brands.
“White wings...” Elizabeth said softly. Shaking her head, she said, “That sounds so familiar, but I don’t know from where.”
Looking distracted, she excused herself, and Danika returned her attention to the mirror and began to get ready. Her den had traveled to Northern Ohio for the full moon celebration. The den was having a party to welcome a new alliance and had invited her den to stay. Other shifter groups would be at the party tonight, which was taking place in the center of the underground den where tables were already being laden with rich foods.
She dressed in the traditional clothing of her people — a well-tailored hide vest and her long skirt. The vest was embroidered with white feathers, and the skirt fell gracefully to her ankles. When her hair was as dry as she could make it with the towel, she brushed it furiously and then braided a few sections on either side of her temples, securing them together at the back of her head with a leather tie.
Ten minutes later, she exited the small tent and found the members of her den gathered to one side of the large, cleared area. Of the seventeen members of her den, only three were females and two of them were mated. Their King, Kajika, was an old and powerful bear, wise and kind. His son, Mato, on the other hand, was an arrogant jackass and he, unfortunately, had a great interest in Danika.
Even though no one knew what she was, it didn’t stop Mato from wanting her as his bride. He was handsome, but he was cruel. He would be a cruel leader when he succeeded his father. She didn’t love him. Hell, she didn’t even like him. And there was no way that she was going to submit to him and become his wife. She didn’t know who she would end up marrying, but she knew that whoever her mate was, he was not part of her bear den and he sure as hell wasn’t Mato.
She stood next to Cree, queen bear and Kajika’s mate, and looked around at those who had gathered. Besides the Cleveland bear den that was finishing setting up the feast, the other groups were slowly arriving. Werewolves, serpents, and tigers milled around in groups of a dozen or more.
And then her heart stopped in her chest for a moment as a group descended the flight of stairs, led by an olive-skinned god with curly black hair and wearing tight black leather pants. Something inside her stirred as she watched him move with his people through the den to greet Adriel, King of the Cleveland bear den, and his people. The dark-haired man seemed unhappy. Standing tall and muscular, he had a straight nose and dark brows. Her body heated immediately, and she had to steel herself from running over and doing something foolish.
Like licking him from head to toe. Or offering to be his love slave.
“Are you well, marala?” Cree asked, calling Danika little wing.
She tore her eyes away from the man and looked at Cree. “I’m fine, Cree. Maybe a little hungry.”
“I agree,” Kajika interjected, “the food smells delicious, and yet we still wait.”
Danika looked everywhere but where the handsome man stood, although she was fully aware of exactly where he was at all times. It didn’t really matter if he was gorgeous and made her tummy flip, because she was leaving in the morning to return to the den in Delaware. The part of her that wanted to pull him back into her guest tent and have her way with him felt too old to have a one-night stand. Especially because judging from the way the others acted around him, he was their leader.
She cracked her neck and fidgeted. Her back ached, particularly her shoulder blades. Distracted for a moment from the compellingly handsome dark-haired man, her attention was drawn to the stairs again where another group descended. A large man, with a thick head of blond hair streaked with gray, led them. He carried himself like a King, and she wondered which were-group he led.
Adriel moved to him quickly, shaking his hand with a broad smile. Next to the leader stood an equally large man with his muscular arms folded across his broad chest. His hair was also blond, but pure and golden, reminding her of a lion’s mane. His skin was lightly tanned, and he wore a simple white shirt open at the neck and dark trousers that hugged his long legs.
Her heart began to pound in her chest, and she felt suddenly lightheaded. The ache in her back increased, and she let out a small gasp and tried to steady herself. For one moment, both the dark-haired man and the blond-haired man looked at her, and everything in the center of her body went liquid. They both stepped towards her but froze when Adriel clapped his hands loudly and called the attendees to their seats. When her feet refused to move, Cree put her arm around Danika and moved her to their table. She was fortunate not to have to sit by Mato, but that didn’t stop him from leering at her hungrily fro
m across the table.
Danika glanced around, wondering where the two men had gone, but she didn’t see them.
Adriel raised his voice after a few minutes when everyone had found their seats and thanked all the heads of the were-houses in the area for joining them in celebration of the newly formed alliance between the were-lion pride and the rest of the were-groups in the area. She had never heard of so many different groups forming an alliance, but clearly her own people didn’t think much of it.
Her back continued to ache, but she pushed the pain aside. As platters of food were passed and she filled her plate, she listened as the men in her den questioned the sanity of the Northern Ohio bear den for making alliances. Clearly, they felt that bear dens should remain the only were-group in their area and not share with other groups. She thought there was safety in numbers, and alliances meant that if one group was in trouble, then others might be able to help. It made sense to her.
The food was delicious. The meat was tender and rich, and the vegetables were flavorful. Adriel’s den used grow lights in the winter and grew all their own food in the den. What she’d seen as bordering primitive in some ways suddenly seemed very smart. They could hold onto their roots and keep their people safe.
When the meal wound down, she found herself unable to sit any longer because the ache in her back continued to intensify. She felt as if her bones were trying to shift inside her body or break through her skin. She excused herself to go to her tent to lie down for a little while.
She left the main area and moved slowly back to her tent, measuring her steps carefully. Quick movements jarred her bones and caused her pain. She wove through the tents, moving farther away from the open area, holding onto her tears until she reached the tent so she could cry in private.
“Going somewhere, Nika?” Mato’s voice cut through the haze of pain, and she gasped in alarm when he grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. He towered over.
“Let me go!” She tried to wrench free from his iron grip, but his large hands wrapped tightly around both her upper arms. He drew her off the ground and held her aloft, glaring down his long nose.
“You just had your last full moon celebration as an unmated female, Nika.”
“What are you talking about? And don’t call me ‘Nika’!” She kicked out at him, trying to get free, but he held her easily away from him. Her back throbbed, and the tears she had successfully held in spilled over her cheeks.
“Oh, yes, my father agreed that you have spent more than enough time in mourning. It’s time to accept that you are meant to be mine, and I will have you.”
Her world narrowed down to his mouth as he pulled her closer, and she squeezed her eyes shut, shouting, “Let me go!” She dug her nails into his arms. Then she heard the sound of rushing feet, and her eyes popped open as two hands gripped her arms under Mato’s hands and two other hands pushed him bodily away. Mato’s hands ripped painfully away from her arms.
The hands belonged to the two men she’d seen earlier — the dark-haired one and the blond. Each male held her with one hand and shoved Mato away with the other. She took in a fast breath as heat flared through her at their touch, and her back began to burn and ache as if something was trying to break free. Her skin prickled like tiny ants were biting her flesh.
The dark-haired man looked at the blond, and then they both looked at Mato as he growled, “Get off my woman.”
The men released her slowly and pushed her behind them protectively. The blond settled into a defensive crouch. “You touch a hair on her head, and I will send you to your maker in pieces.”
“You have no standing, cat,” Mato snarled. “She belongs to our den and to me. I’ve secured her place as my bride with my father, our King bear.”
Danika couldn’t believe that she’d been passed over to him as if she had no value. Her heart clenched. She was overwhelmed.
The dark-haired man said, “You will not touch her again. She is under my protection as Prince falcon. Overstep, and I’ll rain hell down from the heavens on you and your people.”
The blond’s fingers curled and claws sprang free. He growled low and deep. Mato straightened and glared at her. His lip snarled as he spoke, “This isn’t over.”
He spun and stalked away, cursing under his breath.
The dark-haired one snorted. “What an asshole.”
The two turned around at the same time and reached for her. They each took one of her hands in theirs and crowded close. Her senses were overwhelmed as she looked up at them. Her skin tingled and heated where they touched her. Their wild scents swirled around her and made her lightheaded.
“I’m Jesuit. Are you alright, little bird?”
Her throat was impossibly dry. She opened her mouth to speak, but all she could think about was how right their hands felt on her, how much she wanted to just fall into their arms.
The blond said, “I’m Chance, katja.”
Pain shot up her back like twin swords made of red-hot steel, and she gasped as she gripped their hands tightly before falling to her knees. Darkness threatened but she fought it back, gritting her teeth and squeezing their hands for support. She would not pass out right now.
“You’re as white as a sheet, little bird,” Jesuit said. “Do you have a tent here in the den?”
Elizabeth and her husbands appeared, and she took one look at Danika and said, “Her guest tent is right here.” They began to walk to the tent.
Jesuit picked up Danika, and when his arm brushed against her upper back, she went rigid in his arms and bit back a scream of pure agony. Her vision blurred and she closed her eyes, feeling as if she might throw up. She opened her eyes when Jesuit laid her on her side on the bed in the guest tent and gently rolled her to her stomach.
Chance knelt on the bed next to her and smoothed her hair from her face. “Tell us what hurts, katja.”
“My back,” she spoke through gritted teeth.
Elizabeth said, “Ash, go get Shaylee.”
Jesuit stood next to the bed, one of his hands hand held hers, and he planted the other on his hip. “Elizabeth, it’s nice to see you again.”
“You, too, Jes.”
“Would you mind finding my men and getting them here? One of the bears from her den tried to hurt her, and I want him found immediately.”
Axe growled. “I’ll get them.”
Danika’s head turned slowly to the side and she peered up at Jesuit. He looked down at her and smiled when she squeezed his hand. “What can I get you, little bird?”
“A new back,” she offered as a small attempt at humor. Aside from the pain in her back, she felt as if something monumental was happening between the three of them and she was too out of it to know what it was.
Chance squeezed her other hand. “It’ll be okay, katja. We’ve got you.”
Had she ever felt so immediately cared for and accepted? Not since Mama. She squeezed both of their hands and offered them a watery thank you, and then closed her eyes, waiting for whoever Shaylee was to come and help.
Chapter 4
Jes held the delicate hand of the woman in pain on a bed in a guest tent in the bear den. He’d never seen such a beautiful woman in his life, and she was his mate. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the were-lion named Chance holding onto her other hand just as tightly as he was, but oddly enough, he didn’t feel the need to throw him out of the tent. He’d think about that later. After she was okay.
A young woman he’d never seen before came rushing into the tent with two more bears, and Elizabeth introduced her as Shaylee, a healing nymph.
She approached the bed slowly with her hands raised, her dark brown eyes full of concern. “Can I touch your mate? I might be able to fix whatever is wrong.”
Jes nodded, aware that Chance also nodded. Jes stepped backwards closer to Danika’s head so he could give Shaylee access to her back. He didn’t like the ashen look to his mate’s skin or the rigid way she lay on the bed. Her eyes were red rimmed fro
m crying, but she hadn’t shed a tear since he picked her up. If she was in as much pain as he felt she was, then she was incredibly resilient.
And he didn’t even know her name.
“What’s your name, honey?” Shaylee asked, leaning forward to make eye contact with her.
“Danika.”
Jes liked that name. Danika.
“Is this top special? Do you mind if I cut it off to see your back?”
“No, go ahead,” she said harshly as a spasm wracked her petite body.
Her hand gripped his tighter, and Jes watched as one of the males who had come in with Shaylee handed her a sharp, thin blade and she began to cut through the seams at the side of the vest.
Jes looked over the bed to Chance and said, “We weren’t properly introduced. I’m Jesuit Denali, Prince and leader of the falcon nest.”
“Chance Aroyo, eldest Prince of the were-lions.”
They stared at each other for a moment without saying anything, and then Chance glanced at the small crowd in the tent and said with a low voice, “I think we have a lot to discuss, but perhaps later?”
Jes nodded. “Definitely.”
Shaylee worked the seams open at the sides and shoulders of the hide vest and gently lifted it off Danika’s back.
Danika groaned slightly, and Jes drew in a quick breath at the state of her back. Two thick, dark purple lines ran down her back from her shoulder blades to her waist. It looked as if she had been struck by something, but she hadn’t been in pain until he and Chance had touched her.
His gaze roamed her back and then landed on what appeared to be tattoos of some sort on either side of her upper back — two white wings. His eyes widened as the events of two years ago ran through his mind.
He’d been so pissed that Elizabeth had chosen two strangers in the twin bears over him. That she’d never even given him a shot at something more. Embarrassment had quickly morphed into rage and he had stormed the bluffs with his men where the Wiccans were meeting to say his piece. Elizabeth asked her grandmother, Lorene, who was the most powerful witch in the coven, to cast Jes’ future. When they did, he’d seen two vastly different futures. One, in which he raised his sword in anger at her mates, ended with Elizabeth being killed. The other, if he chose not to lift his sword to fight for someone who didn’t want or love him, would see him finding a mate.
A Promise on White Wings (Wiccan-Were-Bear) Page 2
