by Tara West
In the past five days, not one of them had bothered calling. They’d texted, but it wasn’t the same as hearing their voices. They still hadn’t found the Devoras and wouldn’t reveal to her what they were doing. She called her fathers, but they were no help either, simply telling her that her mates were wasting their time when she’d pry for information.
What exactly was going on in Romania?
She had the feeling her mates were shielding her from something, but what?
It bugged her that Hakon called Tor, her alpha father-in-law, every afternoon to give him a report. Why couldn’t he take a few minutes to check in with her, too?
She heard Tor take a call from Hakon before slipping into his home office and shutting the door. She tried to listen in, but she could only make out a few whispered words. She heard one word several times: haunted. That’s when she knew they were at the Haunted Forest.
She’d had enough of their secrecy. What kind of a marriage would they have if they couldn’t confide in her? After Tor hung up and got up to pace, like he did every afternoon, she went upstairs. Hakon had told her not to call him unless it was an emergency, but she was tired of playing by his rules.
She was shocked that she was out of breath by the time she reached the top of the stairs. Pregnancy sucked. She grabbed her phone off the charger and dialed Hakon’s cell.
He answered on the first ring. “Amara, what’s wrong?”
“Why don’t you call me?” She heard herself whining and didn’t care. She was tired of being ignored by her mates.
“We are on the hunt.” His words were clipped. “We don’t have time for phone calls.”
Rage swelled her veins like a steaming kettle ready to explode. “Yet somehow you found time to call Tor.” Now that she was pregnant, he thought he could just ignore her? Why was he leaving her out? Didn’t he think she needed to know, or was he trying to hide something sinister?
His audible sigh only pissed off Amara more. “He’s my chieftain. He makes me give him daily reports, and he doesn’t text.”
He was hiding something. She was sure of it. “Stay away from the Haunted Forest.”
There was a long pause. “Were you eavesdropping?”
He didn’t deserve an answer after keeping her in the dark so long. “Stay away, Hakon.”
“You don’t need to worry, Amara. We won’t go past the veil.”
Somehow his answer wasn’t reassuring. Had the Devoras gone into the Haunted Forest? They were crazy, but she didn’t realize they were also stupid. “But you are near it.”
“We have no choice.”
Her heart pounded. “What are you doing there?”
“Amara, I can’t talk. I love you.” He ended the call.
She was so angry, she saw red. She immediately called back, but it went to voicemail. She called her other mates, but they weren’t picking up either. She threw her phone across the room and fell on the bed, crying, something she’d been doing a lot of lately, thanks to her pregnancy hormones. But this time it was different. She wasn’t just a lonely wolf, longing for her mates. She was terrified for them. How she wished she could speak to them, just to hear they were okay.
Ancients, please keep my mates safe, she whispered and cried herself to sleep.
HAKON DID HIS BEST not to think about the phone call with Amara. He hated keeping her in the dark, but he had no choice. He couldn’t subject her to the terrors of Hoia Baciu. He wondered who’d told her about the forest, for she’d never spoken of it after her trip to Romania. Her grandparents hadn’t told her about it for a reason. Even he, the biggest protector in all the Amaroki, knew he’d have nightmares for years to come, for now he knew the Haunted Forest was far worse than the frightening childhood stories.
He pulled into the camp that had been the bane of their existence for the past six days. Hakon and his brothers had been foolish to volunteer for the night shift, but they felt obligated to watch the veil during the most dangerous time. It was their mate’s honor they were avenging.
His brothers got out of the car, shoulders caved inward, eyes darting from each other to the edge of the veil, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a mistake in coming here. After the horrors they’d seen, it was very unlikely the Devoras had survived the forest more than a few hours, much less six weeks.
Atan Albescu, alpha son of Tribal Chieftain Obren, with stark white hair and a long scar tugging at his upper lip, stalked toward them, silver eyes gleaming in the sliver of moonlight shining through the trees. Atan was a few years younger than Hakon’s father, though he looked much older. Romanian shifters didn’t live as long as the Alaskan Amaroki. After spending four nights guarding the veil, Hakon knew that living in such a hostile environment took years off their lives.
“The brave and strong Thunderfoots, back another night to avenge your mate’s honor.” Atan threw his arms wide, a satisfied smile curling his scarred lip.
Why would he take pleasure in this? Did he think this all a joke? The Albescu Pack hadn’t said a kind word to Hakon and his brothers since they’d arrived in Romania. He suspected it had something to do with the growing pressure for their father to hand over his title to Amara’s grandfather.
Hakon ignored Drasko’s low growl. “Do you have anything to report?” he asked Atan, in no mood to fight the shifters when they had other enemies to pursue.
“There’s a tricky demon at the edge of the veil tonight.” Invisible to the human eye, only those with a sixth sense, like shifters and other animals, could see the thin wall of white mist. “It mimics a child’s cry.” Creases marred his brow. “There are no children here.”
As if on cue, they heard a child’s plaintive squeal. “Mommy! Mommy! Where are you?”
Atan and his brothers quickly piled into their old farm truck. Without so much as a farewell, they tore off down the road, leaving Hakon and his brothers alone.
“Help me, Mommy!” the demon cried. “I’m scared!” The shadow of a small child moved behind the mist, running too fast to be human.
Luc grabbed his hair by the roots, chest heaving while he stared into the veil. “This place is going to drive me insane.
Speak telepathically, Hakon projected and motioned at the dwindling campfire. Don’t let it know you’re upset.
A pitiful whimper rent the air, echoing strangely off the trees.
I miss Amara. Rone wrapped his arms around himself and fell on his knees in front of the fire. I want to go home.
Me, too. Luc threw kindling on the fire and sat beside Rone.
We can’t. Hakon clenched his hands, ignoring the urge to shift into protector form and rip that demon in two. We have to avenge her honor. But even as he sent the thought to his brothers, it had less conviction. Whatever lesson they wanted to teach the Devoras, surely they’d learned it a hundred times over within the veil.
Drasko stood beside him, gazing at the darting shadow. The demons already took care of the Devoras, Hakon.
“Umma, Umma!” the demon screeched.
Rone jumped to his feet. What is it saying?
Umma is Mommy in Korean, Luc said, sounding tortured.
Rone gaped at Hakon and then at Luc. Why is it speaking Korean?
Luc hung his head. Because it knows how to get to me.
Hakon knelt beside him. Luc, are you okay? He placed a hand on Luc’s back, pulling back when Luc jerked away. How could Hakon have been so blind to Luc’s suffering? His brother still hadn’t recovered from his mission, and here he was dragging him through hell again.
Those kids! Luc’s cry echoed in Hakon’s brain. Those starving kids. Whenever I close my eyes, I see their faces. Now I can hear them.
We have to leave this fucking place, Rone begged.
The shadow stopped racing back and forth, and stood at the edge of the veil. “Umma!”
Before Hakon could stop him, Drasko shifted into protector form and ran to the veil, stopping within an inch of the white wall with a roar.
The
shadow screamed and retreated, scampering away.
“Come on, Brother.” Hakon said to Drasko, pulling him away. “There’s no way the Devoras survived this. Let’s go home.”
Drasko threw Hakon off him, then shook his arms as if shaking bugs off his skin. He shifted back into human form and dropped to his knees. That’s when Hakon saw his arms were covered in long, red welts. The demon burn!
A CLAWED SHADOW MOVED through a white wall of mist, crying for its mother. Amara turned to her mates, who were crowded around a campfire. Rone was on his knees, telepathically speaking to his brothers that he missed Amara. Luc was clenching his hair, saying he wanted to go home. Hakon had a desperate look in his eyes as he watched the creature scurrying behind the fog.
What was that thing and why did her dream feel so real?
Then Drasko shifted into a big, hulking beast and raced to where she stood at the undulating wall of white, roaring at the creature, and sending it away on all fours.
Drasko was so close, she could almost touch him. She reached for him, then jerked back when something burned her arm.
She woke with a scream, chest heaving, and cradled her hand against her chest.
She turned on the bedside lamp and looked at her arm. It was covered in long welts, like red slugs were trying to break through her flesh.
What the hell?
“Amara,” Tatiana said as she threw open the bedroom door and flipped on the switch. “What’s wrong?”
Tatiana was dressed in her robe and bunny slippers. Was it morning already? Had Amara slept in? Amara told Tatiana about her dream and then held her arm out.
“Holy shit! What happened?”
Her lower lip trembled as the pain intensified. “I-I don’t know, but it feels like my skin is on fire.” Unable to control herself, she scratched the welts, which only made the itching worse, which in turn made her scratch harder. Ancients help her. What the hell had happened? More importantly, what had become of her mates?
AMARA HAD NEVER FELT such agony in her life. It was as if someone had doused her arm with kerosene and lit it on fire. She had no idea how she was able to get out of bed. She was so dizzy from the pain, she was ready to pass out, vomit, or both. Thank the Ancients for Tatiana, who guided her down the stairs holding her good arm.
Amara heaved a sigh of relief when she reached the bottom step, her legs wobbling as she crossed to the table where her mates’ parents were eating breakfast.
“Amara has something to show you, Father,” Tatiana said as she led Amara to Tor. “Look at her arm.”
Tor stood. “What is this? Do we have bedbugs?”
Tatiana shook her head as Amara sat down. “She didn’t get this from my bed.”
Mihaela’s eyes widened when she looked at Amara’s arm. “La naiba!”
Amara remembered la naiba meant “oh shit” in Romanian, but that was an understatement. Holy fucking, flaming demon balls was more appropriate, considering her pain.
“What is it?” Tor asked.
Amara thanked Arvid, her mates’ gamma father, when he placed an ice pack on her arm. She slumped in relief as the burning started to subside.
“I saw this rash when one of my uncles wandered too close to the veil,” Mihaela said, gaping at Amara’s arm.
Tor rubbed the back of his head, puzzled. “You mean the shroud covering the Haunted Forest?”
“Da!”
Oh, this wasn’t good. How the hell had Amara been transported to Romania in a dream? More importantly, who’d transported her? Was it that demon creature with the child’s voice?
“Amara.” Tor knelt beside her, placing a hand on her good arm. “What happened?”
Amara opened her mouth, but it felt like a wad of cotton had been shoved inside. She was too worked up to speak.
“She had a dream she was at the forest,” Tatiana answered for her. “She said it felt like she was there. She saw my brothers, and they were too close to the veil.”
“How could this happen?” Mihaela asked.
Tor shook his head, frowning. “I must consult the scrolls.”
Amara sniffled and wiped her eyes. “I just want to know if my mates are okay.”
Tor flashed a weak smile. “They are on their way home, Amara.”
“They are?”
“Yes. They just called me.”
She slumped in her chair, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted. “Oh, thank the Ancients,” she breathed. Her mates were coming home, and that’s all that mattered. When the ice pack slipped off her arm, the burning returned as she tried to scratch away the pain.
“Please don’t scratch.” Arvid settled the ice pack back on her arm. “You’ll make it worse.”
Her arm was now streaked with blood from her scratching. “I can’t help it. It burns so bad.”
“Will she be okay?” Tatiana asked her mother.
Amara didn’t like how Mihaela paused and then looked at her lap. “Da,” she answered, though her voice lacked conviction.
“I’m taking her to the healer,” Tor said, pulling her out of her chair. “Come on.”
She silently nodded, grateful when he lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the door. She didn’t think she could make it to Tor’s truck on her own.
“Ancients help me,” she whispered, for she feared it would take powerful magic to heal her.
Chapter Six
“I don’t think anyone can fix this,” Amara said to Tor, pressing the ice pack against the welts. The ice was melting at an alarming rate. The pain would soon return.
“If anyone can, it’s Raz,” Tor said, clutching the steering wheel with white knuckles. “She’s a cousin of mine trained in ancient herbals. She’ll know what to do.”
She sure hoped so, because she didn’t think all the ice in the world would stop the overwhelming urge to scratch her skin off.
She wished Tor would hurry. He drove fast but not fast enough, not that his speed mattered, as there were no speed limit signs anywhere. He’d just slowed to round a tree-lined corner when a familiar truck came barreling around the bend. She screamed, clutching the seat when Tor swerved to miss it and careened into a ditch. The truck hit a tree with a sickening crunch. She was thrown forward, then stopped by the seatbelt digging into her chest and stomach.
With a groan, she slumped in her seat.
Tor reached for her. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, too stunned to speak. She clutched her stomach, hoping the baby hadn’t been hurt.
Tor threw open the door and jumped out of the truck, bellowing.
She unbuckled the seatbelt and rolled down the window, rubbing her sore neck as Tor stomped over to the driver of the other truck. Though she didn’t recognize him, she saw he was accompanied by Stormwatchers.
The driver, a man almost as big as Tor, got out of the truck, his gaze shifting from Amara back to Tor. “Sorry. I was checking my phone. I didn’t see you.” He stumbled a bit before leaning against the truck.
Tor advanced on him with a growl. “Have you been drinking, Aguk?”
Aguk averted his eyes, scratching the back of his head. “Only a few beers.”
“You son of a bitch!” Tor hollered, grabbing Aguk’s collar and slamming him against the truck, rattling it like it was a tin toy.
Daniella Stormwatcher screamed, and the second alpha jumped into the truck bed, snarling at Tor with fists raised.
“Easy, Ranko,” Aguk said to his brother. “We don’t want to hurt our chieftain.”
Two other brothers got out. Tor against four shifters was hardly a fair fight. When Tor refused to let go of Aguk, she knew she had to intervene.
As if on cue, a wave of nausea overcame her. She quickly opened the door and threw up on the gravel.
“Your daughter-in-law needs you,” Aguk said.
She lay back against her seat with a groan, clutching her sore stomach. It was then she wondered if the seatbelt may have harmed her baby.
Tor was at her side immediat
ely, stepping over the vomit and clutching her shoulders. “Amara?” He pressed a hand against her head.
She managed to lift her head and look Tor in the eyes, frightened when her world began to spin. She clutched her stomach. “I’m worried about the baby.”
“It’s okay,” he said as he strapped her in once more. “We’re almost to the healer.” He shut the door with a bang before turning back to the Stormwatchers. “This isn’t over. You will be called before the Council for this.”
She thought she heard the Stormwatchers swearing at him, but she couldn’t be sure. She closed her eyes against a wave of dizziness, willing her sickness to subside. At some point during the accident, she’d lost hold of the ice pack, and her arm burned with a vengeance, but she was too sick and weak to bend down and get it.
She should’ve been upset that the Stormwatchers ran them off the road and her baby could’ve been injured, but she was too sick to think beyond not wanting to vomit all over herself. Ancients save her.
AMARA RESTED HER DIZZY head against Tor’s chest when he carried her inside a low log cabin. A door creaked open and feet shuffled.
“What is it?” an unfamiliar, scratchy voice asked.
“The Stormwatchers ran us off the road,” Tor said. “The seatbelt dug into her stomach. We’re worried about the baby.”
“Lay her down,” the scratchy voice commanded.
No sooner had she been placed on her side than she threw up. She felt terrible for making a mess.
“I’m so sorry,” she said raspily, looking into a smiling pair of brown eyes framed by so many wrinkles, they resembled tributaries on an old map. This had to be Tor’s cousin, Raz. The name fit her.
“It’s no bother.” Raz’s long gray braids swayed with the movement. “Drink this. It will settle your stomach.”
