Dark Covenant (Living Covenant Trilogy Book 2)

by Amanda M. Lee

  Dark Covenant

  Living Covenant Trilogy Book Two

  Amanda M. Lee

  WinchesterShaw Publications

  Contents

  Copyright

  1. One

  2. Two

  3. Three

  4. Four

  5. Five

  6. Six

  7. Seven

  8. Eight

  9. Nine

  10. Ten

  11. Eleven

  12. Twelve

  13. Thirteen

  14. Fourteen

  15. Fifteen

  16. Sixteen

  17. Seventeen

  18. Eighteen

  19. Nineteen

  20. Twenty

  21. Twenty-One

  22. Twenty-Two

  23. Twenty-Three

  24. Twenty-Four

  25. Twenty-Five

  26. Twenty-Six

  27. Twenty-Seven

  28. Twenty-Eight

  Mail List

  Acknowledgments

  Books by Amanda M. Lee

  Copyright © 2016 by Amanda M. Lee

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  1

  One

  “I’m not wearing that.”

  My mother knit her eyebrows and glared at me, frustration evident. I was never an easy child, but there were times she could manipulate me when I was too young and dumb to see it coming. That wasn’t an option now. If I was a difficult child, I was an impossible adult. That’s what her expression told me as I shook my head and waved off the pink dress she insisted on shoving in my direction.

  “Zoe Lake, this is your engagement party,” Mom said, her blue eyes flashing. “You’re supposed to dress up and look like a princess.”

  “I don’t think that’s an actual rule,” I argued. “I don’t want to dress like a princess.”

  “Well … you’re going to,” Mom said, utilizing her best “I’m your mother and you have to do what I say” look.

  Unfortunately for her, that look hadn’t moved me since I was eight. “I’m not wearing that dress … and you can’t make me.”

  “I am your mother,” Mom argued, her hands on her hips. “Are you telling me that giving you life hasn’t earned me the right to pick out a dress for my only daughter to wear at her engagement party?”

  I narrowed my eyes as I dramatically threw myself in the chaise lounge at the edge of my bedroom. It was a calculated move. I wanted her to think I was giving up and would poutily accept her horrific pink frock. Then, as she basked in her victory, I planned to drop the hammer on her. What? I have to get my jollies somehow, and it’s been ridiculously quiet the past month.

  “I knew you would see things my way,” Mom said, gracing me with a wide, satisfied grin. “Now, I think you should take another shower – this time make sure you shave your legs really well – and when you get out I have some really cute shiny tights to go with the dress.”

  That did it. I had planned to mess with her a bit longer, but there’s only so much a person can take. “I would rather be locked in a room for eternity with the Kardashians than wear that dress.”

  “I have no idea what that means,” Mom said, her tone full of faux primness. “You’re wearing this dress, though. I ordered it special for you.”

  “I am not wearing that dress!”

  My fiancé, Aric Winters, picked that moment to stroll into our bedroom, his dark eyes contemplative as his gaze bounced between my mother and me. “How are things this afternoon, ladies?”

  “They’re just fine,” Mom sniffed, staring at her feet and putting on a show for Aric’s benefit. If I didn’t know better I’d think she had her role as town martyr down to a science. “Zoe has decided that she doesn’t need to spend time with her mother … or listen to a thing she has to say. It’s fine. I’m only hurt a little.”

  She was good; I had to give her that. Aric looked legitimately touched by her act. He shifted his attention to me. “What did you do to upset your mother?”

  Well, it just figured he’d back her up instead of me. He was trying to earn points by always agreeing with her, and it was starting to grate. “How can you possibly take her side?”

  “I know you, Trouble,” Aric chided. “You can’t seem to keep yourself from frustrating people. I know you don’t set out to be mean, but you really do have a knack.”

  “It’s probably my fault,” Mom said, throwing an extra sniffle in to ensure she had Aric’s attention. “I wanted her to be a strong woman, so I encouraged her to speak her mind as a child. That was probably a mistake. I should’ve forced more rules on her.”

  “Yes, that would’ve been nice,” Aric intoned, shooting me a dark look. “Maybe then she would think before she speaks. I know I would enjoy that for a change.”

  “Hey!”

  Aric ignored my righteous indignation. “What seems to be the problem?”

  “I picked out a perfectly lovely dress for the engagement party tonight, but Zoe doesn’t want to wear it.” Mom held up the pink monstrosity for Aric to study.

  After five years of living together, I thought I knew every expression he had. The one crossing his handsome face this sunny afternoon in mid-Michigan was a new one.

  “Huh.” Aric rubbed his hand over his stubbled chin. He was waiting to shower and shave until right before the party.

  “See,” I crowed, hopping to my feet. “He thinks it’s ugly and ridiculous, too. Hah!” I am magnanimous in both victory and defeat.

  “I didn’t say that,” Aric clarified. “I just … she doesn’t wear a lot of pink.”

  Mom adores Aric. Under normal circumstances she thinks he can do no wrong. Apparently he was beginning to fall in her estimation. “Do you pick out a lot of party dresses, Aric?”

  Aric faltered, Mom’s tone giving him pause. “No.”

  “Do you know the appropriate type of dress to wear to an engagement party?”

  “No,” Aric conceded. “It’s just … .”

  Mom cut him off. “Zoe is my only daughter,” she said. “You two are finally getting married. I was starting to think it would never happen.”

  “Blame him,” I interjected, momentarily distracted by the beautiful engagement ring Aric gave me a month earlier. “He had my ring for years and was too cowardly to propose.”

  “I can still take that ring away from you and sell it,” Aric threatened.

  “Not if you don’t want me to set you on fire.” That probably wasn’t a good way to talk to the man I was going to marry – especially because I am capable of setting whatever I wanted on fire with the power of my mind – but I was irritated.

  “Don’t push me, Zoe,” Aric said, unruffled by the threat. He knew I would never purposely hurt him. It takes a strong man to put up with a mouthy woman. It takes the perfect man to put up with a mouthy woman who is powerful enough to kill people without lifting a finger. “I’m on your side here. You should be bowing down and kissing my … feet … for going up against your mother.”

  That didn’t sound likely. “Thank you, my king.”

  Aric smirked. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said, turning his attention back to my mother. “Nancy, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to compromise on this, would you?”

  “I think Zoe has been through a lot over the past few weeks,” Mom said, choosing her words carefully. Ever since I’d absorbed a magical b
ook that exponentially increased my already impressive mage powers everyone had been reluctant to talk about the pink elephant in the room. That was pretty funny considering the pink dress my mother refused to relinquish. It had a lot in common with an elephant – it was far too big. Some people might call that a sign. “I think she should look like a princess because she’s finally going to marry her prince.”

  Oh, that was manipulation at its finest. Even Aric was touched.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked me. “She thinks I’m a prince.”

  “She’s trying to force you to her side and make me wear that dress,” I countered. “I’m not wearing that dress. There is nothing in the world that is going to make me wear that dress.”

  “You’re wearing it,” Mom hissed, all pretense of trying to manipulate or cajole me now gone. “I am your mother, and if I have to wrestle you down and force you into this dress, you’re wearing it.”

  “Over your dead body,” I challenged.

  Aric held up his hands to silence us. “Okay, this can’t go on,” he said. “Nancy, leave the dress and I’ll talk to Zoe.”

  “She had better be in this dress the next time I see her,” Mom snapped, throwing the dress at Aric. “Don’t forget to shave your legs, Zoe. I am not joking. I’m going to get my way for a change.”

  I watched her flounce out of our bedroom, cringing when she slammed the door. Aric gave it a moment to make sure she was gone before shifting his chocolate eyes to me.

  “Are you happy?” Aric asked. “You’ve completely deranged your mother. I didn’t think it was possible because she’s usually so calm, but you’ve managed to do it. Congratulations.”

  “She was born deranged,” I shot back. “Just because she puts on an act for you doesn’t mean she’s sweet and innocent. She’s doing this for attention, by the way. You know that, right?”

  “If that’s the case, then I can honestly say I know where you get it from,” Aric countered, making an odd face as he lifted the dress to look it over. “You can’t wear this, though. I’ll call off the wedding if you do.”

  I made a face. If threatening to set people on fire was a distasteful joke on my part, his need to constantly threaten me with calling off the wedding was equally crass. “I don’t like it when you say you’re going to cancel the wedding,” I said. “It hurts my feelings.”

  Aric narrowed his eyes. “You get that manipulation thing you do from your mother, too. I didn’t realize it until we spent a month living in close proximity to her. It’s annoying.”

  My childhood home burned a month earlier, and my parents were living in a nearby house that Aric rented for them. Even though we weren’t living under the same roof – which would’ve been unbearable – we still saw them almost every day. That led to a lot of arguments.

  “I’m not joking about it hurting my feelings when you threaten to call of the wedding,” I said. “If you want to call off the wedding, do it now. I can’t keep … worrying … that you’re going to do it.”

  Aric’s expression softened. “I’m not calling off the wedding, Zoe,” he said. “You know it, so don’t go there. If I had my way we would’ve been married five years ago. I chickened out and this is where we’re at now, so we both have to deal with it.

  “I don’t see why we have to go through this whole big show,” he continued. “I think we should elope and run off on a month-long honeymoon. We’ll leave a note so people don’t miss us.”

  “That sounds great,” I said, and I genuinely meant it. “The problem is that your parents insist on the big engagement party so they can invite all of their political and social buddies.”

  In addition to being a bigwig in the Michigan wolf community – that would be werewolves, for the uninitiated – James Winters is also a Michigan senator. Our engagement party was a way for James to hobnob with other hot shots in a social setting, and send a clear message that the Winters family was not to be messed with.

  Because I am a mage, my powers have become something akin to legend in certain circles. James Winters wanted our engagement to be broadcast far and wide because it signaled that his family was powerful.

  “I know,” Aric said, blowing out a frustrated sigh and running a hand through his black hair. “I don’t like it either. I tried to talk him out of it, but he says that it’s important that we show a united front.”

  “I think he only wants his enemies to know that his future daughter-in-law is a badass,” I said.

  Aric grinned, the expression lighting up his handsome face. “I like that this isn’t going to your head.”

  “I’m fine with the party,” I said. “There are going to be a lot of people there I haven’t seen in a long time. I am not fine with that dress … and I don’t even want to get into the wedding dresses my mother circled in the magazine she bought. I’m not wearing any of those either.”

  “What? You don’t want to dress up like a princess for our wedding?” Aric teased.

  “I would be happy in cargo pants and a tank top,” I replied. “I’m excited to be married to you. I’m not sure I can work up a lot of enthusiasm for the actual wedding. I think that’s going to be a nightmare when my mother and your mother start butting heads over decorations.”

  “I never considered that,” Aric mused. “I’ll talk to my father. Maybe he can rein in my mother.”

  “I’m not talking to my mother,” I said. “I’m going to pretend I don’t hear her.”

  “Do you really think that’ll work?” Aric asked, dubious.

  “It’s called selective hearing,” I supplied. “It’s a neat little trick my father taught me. If I pretend not to hear her, she’ll eventually stop talking. Then she’ll go into a corner and pout for two weeks, but she will stop talking.”

  “Two weeks, huh?”

  “She can hold a grudge like nobody’s business,” I said. “I don’t care what happens, though. I’m not wearing that dress.”

  “Maybe you should ‘accidentally’ set it on fire,” Aric suggested. “If you do it, make sure it’s outside. You’ve gotten a handle on the fire, but it still gets out of hand when you’re enthusiastic.”

  “I’ll figure out something to do with it,” I said, shifting my eyes to the clock on the nightstand. “It’s almost four. Kelsey and Paris will be here soon.”

  Kelsey and Paris, my college roommates, are the only true female friends I can claim. I’ve always gotten along better with men – Aric claims I think like a guy so women are afraid of me – and Kelsey and Paris managed to look past my shortcomings and form friendships despite my attitude. After five years of separation – Aric working overtime to hide us out of worry that enemies bent on going after me because of my power would find us – Paris and I reunited six weeks ago. It was rough at first, because she made some poor decisions – like sleeping with the old guy who wanted to steal my powers – but we eventually made up. I was really excited to see Kelsey after five years of nothing but email messages.

  “You’re excited to see them,” Aric said. “It’s cute.”

  “I’m not excited,” I countered. “I’m … fine. I’m excited.”

  “Very cute,” Aric said, pinching my cheek and dropping a quick kiss on my forehead. “I have to take a shower. You need to get rid of that dress – and I’m serious about taking it outside if fire is going to be involved – and then apparently you need to shave your legs to appease your mother.”

  I scowled. “I shaved my legs this morning. She’s just being a pain.”

  “I don’t care whether you shave your legs,” Aric countered. “I’m a wolf. I like hairy women. If you’re not going to do it, though, you’d better come up with a suitable excuse for your mother.”

  “Maybe I’ll just get in the shower with you and make you shave them,” I suggested.

  “This is why I’m not good at that manipulation thing,” Aric said. “That’s what I was trying for all along.”

  I made a face. “Next time just ask.”

  “The
longer you stand there talking the less time we have in the shower before Paris and Kelsey get here,” Aric reminded me. “Get a move on, Trouble.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  I slipped past Aric and headed for our bathroom, but he snagged the back of my shirt to still me.

  “You say that ‘my king’ and ‘my lord’ stuff as a joke, but it really turns me on,” Aric said. “That means the joke is on you.”

  “Do you want to shower alone?” I wasn’t in the mood to be messed with.

  “I declare this potential fight over and you the winner,” Aric replied, properly chastised. “I am your humble servant.”

  “Just so you know, that turns me on,” I countered. “Next time you need to bow when you say it.”

  “Get moving, Zoe.”

  2

  Two

  I heard Kelsey and Paris before I saw them, hanging back to eavesdrop because … well … I’m a busybody. I can’t help it.

  “Look at this place,” Kelsey said, exhaling heavily. “It’s beautiful. It looks like someone made all of this furniture by hand.”

  “Aric made it,” Paris supplied, leading Kelsey around our massive two-story living room. “He made all of the furniture and designed the house.”

  “Wow,” Kelsey intoned, tilting her head back so she could stare at the ceiling. Our cabin in the woods was quite the showplace, but I always enjoyed when people visited for the first time. Sometimes I forget how much work Aric put into our home. New visitors always serve as a stark reminder of his craftsmanship. “I can’t believe they live here. It’s amazing.”

  “They have a hot tub out back, too,” Paris said.

  “Have you been in it?”

  “Twice,” Paris answered. “It’s really cool, but I know they’ve done a lot of filthy things in it and I can’t always push that out of my mind. It’s water, so it’s supposed to be clean, but you know how sexed up they get.”