by Tara West
Amara drank a nasty concoction of green herbals that tasted like earwax, then laid back down with a groan, surprised when the nausea quickly subsided. Whatever was in that stuff, she hoped she could take a gallon home with her. She didn’t care how bad it tasted. She could hear Raz whistling as she cleaned up Amara’s vomit.
After Raz walked away, Amara struggled to sit up, aided by Tor. She was on a hospital bed of sorts pushed up against a rustic log wall. Through the dim light, she saw four wrinkled old men, sitting around a stone fireplace, rocking in their chairs and chewing on pipes while absently staring into the flames.
Raz returned and lifted up Amara’s shirt. “Let me see.” She let out a low whistle. “That will be quite a bruise.”
She looked at the long red welt forming on her stomach and cringed. “That’s where the seatbelt dug into me.”
Raz placed a hand on her stomach, then jumped back, the whites of her eyes a stark contrast to her dark, leathery skin. “I can sense his magic.”
“His magic?” she asked.
“Very strong. Feel it.” She settled Amara’s hand on her stomach. She recognized the familiar tingling she’d started feeling a few days ago. She’d thought that was normal.
“Feel your grandson.” Raz grabbed Tor’s hand and settled it on Amara’s belly, too.
He flashed her an apologetic look, his face reddening as he pulled away. “It feels like hornets swirling.”
Hornets? Weird. She’d only felt tingling.
A knowing grin split Raz’s gaunt face in two. “That’s magic.”
“How can you be sure?” she asked.
Raz nodded to her father-in-law. “Ask Tor to consult the scrolls. He’ll tell you.”
“So my baby is okay?” she asked anxiously.
Raz nodded. “The magic protects him.”
Amara and Tor heaved sighs of relief.
Raz’s eyes widened. “What happened to your arm, child?” She picked up Amara’s arm, gently turning it in her hands.
Amara cringed when the old woman touched the welt, which seemed to awaken the flames that had temporarily subsided. The desire to scratch was almost impossible to ignore.
“That’s why I was bringing her to you,” Tor said.
Amara tried to pull her arm free. “I had a dream I was standing outside the Haunted Forest, and then I woke up with this.”
Raz clucked her tongue. “That was more than a dream if you have the demon burn.”
“That’s a good name for it.” Amara finally yanked her arm free and scratched the hell out of it.
“Stop scratching!” Raz slapped Amara’s hand away, before nodding to Tor. “Don’t let her scratch.” She shuffled into a back room.
Amara struggled to control herself while Tor held her hands. It burned so much.
Raz returned with a big jar of green goo. “Put this on your arm every day for three days. You might have scarring, but the itching should go away.”
When Raz opened the jar and rubbed the goo on Amara’s arm, she felt instant cooling relief.
Amara sank into the cushion behind her with a satisfied groan. “Thank you.”
Raz sat on a stool beside her, taking her hand in a firm grip. “Now, about that dream. Have you always been able to teleport?”
“Teleport? No. I don’t think I did that.” What kind of weird sci-fi shit was this woman talking about?
“Of course you did.” Raz laughed, slapping her knee. “Is this your first time?”
Amara glanced at Tor, who shrugged, looking as confused as she felt.
“I-I think so.”
“Do you remember how you did it?” Raz asked.
“Not really. I went to sleep, wishing I could talk to my mates, and then I woke up and I was standing outside the forest, looking at them. They didn’t see me.”
Raz arched a thin brow. “It was only your soul that teleported.”
That made no sense. “Then how did I get this rash?”
Raz gave Amara a knowing look and patted her hand. “They call it demon burn for a reason. It is meant to ward off outsiders, whether they be living or dead.”
What the ever-loving fuck? “I’m confused.” Amara looked to Tor, who gave her a blank look.
“How far along are you?” Raz asked.
“Only about a week.”
Raz smiled, revealing a mouthful of gums and a very few remaining teeth. “Your baby needs to stop teleporting his mommy to dangerous places.”
Amara shot up, cradling her arm. “Hold on. You think my one-week-old embryo did this?”
“I know he did. Mark my words, his magic will be unlike any we’ve yet seen. How does your neck feel?” Raz asked, reaching around Amara and feeling the knots on her neck.
Amara winced. “It hurts.” She hadn’t even realized her neck was injured. Had the accident caused that? She wasn’t too concerned about it. She was still reeling from the news that her unborn child could teleport.
“I can give you a salve for your neck.” Raz’s voice crackled like logs on the fire. “But the best medicine will be your own.”
She flinched when the old woman put pressure on her neck. “What do you mean?”
“It’s time you honed your healing powers,” Raz said with a wink.
Amara blinked up at her. “I don’t have healing powers.” Where would she get that idea? “Yes, you do.” She grabbed a small jar off the shelf behind them and rubbed the ointment into Amara’s neck. “One usually follows the other.”
“Excuse me?” Amara tried to sit up, but Raz pushed her back down.
Raz nodded to Tor. “Our great-grandmother could diagnose animals through touch, but as she got older, her hands could heal as well.”
Tor rubbed the back of his head, his brow creasing. “I don’t remember that.”
Raz shrugged. “She could only heal minor things like cuts and bruises, but we wolves heal fast anyway.”
“You think I can do that?” Amara asked. True, wolves healed fast, but it would be nice to speed things up, especially when Luc returned to her, battered and bruised after a difficult mission.
“Of course. You just have to practice. In the meantime, you should be on bed rest for the next week,” the healer said.
She vehemently shook her head. “But the Amaroki need my help.” She’d already rescheduled all of last week’s cancellations for the next week, hoping she’d be feeling better by then.
“You’re not defying healer’s orders, and you’re not defying mine either.” Tor’s booming voice rattled the walls. “Our people will understand the baby comes first.”
He was right, dammit. After the ordeal she’d been through, she felt like she could sleep for a week. There was no way she’d be able to make house calls. “I’ll cancel all my appointments for next week.”
Tor answered with a grunt.
Amara clasped her father-in-law’s arm, forcing a smile. “It’s okay. Raz said the accident didn’t hurt the baby.”
“That was no accident, Amara.” He folded his arms, looking down at her with eyes that shifted from brown to gold. “The Stormwatchers tried to kill us.”
LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW at the tarmac, Drasko tried to still the trembling in his limbs. Though he’d never tell his brothers, he’d always hated takeoff and landing.
He was so relieved to be leaving this dreadful place. If he never visited Romania again, it would be too soon. He finally understood why his mother’s family didn’t talk about Hoia Baciu. He stared at the demon burn on his arms, covered in a slimy goo his aunt had made. It was the only thing that stopped the itching. After the welts had first appeared, he thought he’d go insane from the pain, like his arms were being burned alive.
He closed his eyes, leaning back against the headrest as the military plane started its ascent. It would be nightfall by the time they reached Alaska, where Drasko could hopefully find peace with his mate and brothers. Maybe he and Tatiana could teach Amara how to fish. Or maybe he would just sit in the hot tub and try
to drink away the memories of the forest. He finally understood why depression drove men to drink, because he couldn’t shake the forest’s black fog that clung to him like a second skin.
Great Ancients, he’d never forget the darkness that had haunted him during his watch. He’d always considered himself a strong protector, but he knew he’d never survive even a few hours beyond the veil. There was no way the Devoras lasted seven weeks.
He looked over at Rone, who shook like a leaf in a windstorm, his glassy eyes sinking into dark sockets. His youngest brother had always found a way to lighten the mood when their pack had faced hardships. Drasko feared Hoia Baciu had broken him.
Hakon stared stoically out the window, his face a mask of stone. Only a nervous twitch above his lip, which had started a few days after their rotation in the forest, showed he was alive.
Luc looked the worst of them all, with lines framing his once youthful eyes and a gray pallor to his concave cheeks. That last night with the demonic child had sent him over the edge. Luc’s internal cry for help had pierced Drasko’s soul that night, driving him too close to the veil. He’d scared away the demon, though, so in the end the burn had been worth it.
Drasko sent a silent thanks to the Ancients that the forest was now behind them, while he prayed that their sanity would soon be restored. Amara needed strong and sane mates, but Drasko feared she would not recognize the damaged pack of wolves returning to her.
Chapter Seven
Amara slept most of the day, only waking up to use the toilet and apply more goo to her arm. She had just come out of the bathroom when she heard her dogs frantically barking below.
Tatiana raced up the stairs, wildly waving her arms. “My brothers are here!”
“Oh.” Amara’s knees weakened and she clutched the doorframe, sending silent thanks to the Ancients that her mates had returned to her.
She wanted to hurry down the stairs to greet them, but dizziness wouldn’t let her. As she descended, Tatiana clutching her elbow, realization sank in that her mates had left her worrying over their safety for seven days while only supplying her with short, cryptic texts.
Those assholes!
After she reached the bottom landing, she stood rooted to the spot, clutching the banister and warily eyeing Tatiana, who left her to join her parents at the front door. What followed next could only be described as chaos. Her dogs, joined by Mihaela’s dogs, ran circles in the kitchen, barking and jumping with glee. Though her mates plowed through the house, calling her name, their parents and sister welcomed them home first, hugging each of them. Amara could tell by the way her mates looked over their parents’ shoulders that they were eager to get to her. She could’ve joined them in the kitchen, but she remained sitting on the stairs, cradling her injured arm. Her dogs jumped on her mates’ legs and let out excited squeals. Her yellow Lab waggled his whole backside, insisting on affection before they could pass.
“Amara!” Rone was the first to break free of the shifters and dogs, and barrel toward her, arms spread wide. He stopped as if he’d struck an invisible wall. “What happened to your arm?”
She twisted her lips, turning her face when his brothers joined him. “I burned it in a dream.”
Luc knelt beside her, touching her arm. “That doesn’t make sense.”
She jerked away with a hiss when he fingered a raised welt. “Don’t touch!” she hollered, narrowing her eyes at him as if he’d burned her with a hot poker.
Drasko knelt beside him, frowning. “It looks like mine.” He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a similar rash covered with goo.
“You got it, too?” Her aggravation with her mates was momentarily forgotten. “I saw you yelling at the shadow demon, and then I woke up.”
“How did you see that?” Hakon asked as he sat beside her.
She scooted away from him. Out of all her mates, she was pissed at him the most. He’d called his father every day. He could’ve called her, too.
She wrapped her arms around herself, pressing against the railing, wishing she could escape the alluring scent of her mates. “I went to sleep wanting to hear from you, so the baby took me there.”
“Hang on.” Hakon grabbed her good arm. “The baby took you there?”
She nodded. “The healer said the baby has strong magic, that he teleported me.”
Hakon jumped up. “Great Ancients!”
Amara scowled up at him. “He wouldn’t have teleported me if you would’ve told me what was going on.”
“We kept you in the dark to protect you.” Hakon sat back down beside her, reaching for her and frowning when she pulled back.
Tears welled up in the backs of her eyes as anger swelled her chest. Damn pregnancy hormones! “Well, it didn’t work.”
“Amara, I’m so sorry.”
She turned away when Hakon held out his arms, wincing at the pain in her stiff neck. She wiped away hot tears and ignored her mates when they rubbed her back and stroked her shoulders.
“Please don’t be angry,” Rone begged. “We’re sorry.”
“We didn’t want to expose you to the horrors of the Haunted Forest,” Drasko said.
“You think I can’t handle a little reality after the life I’ve lived?” She shook a finger in his face. “And I’m exposed now!”
“You’re right. We should’ve told you. Is the baby okay?” Hakon leaned much too close to her, invading her personal space.
“He’s fine,” she answered curtly.
“Are you still in pain?” Hakon asked, his voice softening. He ran his fingers through her hair.
“Your father took me to the healer.” She tried to massage the knots in her neck. “It only hurts here now.”
“What happened?” Hakon pushed her hand away and kneaded her neck with thick fingers.
She wanted to swat him, but the pressure felt damn good. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she mumbled, recalling Tor telling her he thought the Stormwatchers were trying to kill them. The last thing she wanted was for her mates to get into a brawl with them.
“Tell us, Amara,” Hakon demanded.
“It doesn’t matter now.” She reluctantly pulled away from him. “I want to go home.”
Hakon released her, his voice dropping to a low growl. “And I want to know what happened to your neck.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Tor approach. “The Stormwatchers ran us off the road on the way to the healer.”
“They did what?” her mates asked in unison.
“Aguk was drunk and on his phone.” Amara wrung her hands together. Her mates looked like steaming pots about to boil over. Would they leave her and risk their lives to go fight yet another battle? “He said it was an accident.”
Tor shook his head. “That was no accident.”
Hakon crossed his arms, his cheeks flushing a dark crimson. “I don’t think it was either.”
“They will be called before the council at the tribal meeting next week,” Tor said.
Drakso jutted a foot toward Tor, a low rumble sounding from his chest. “If their punishment isn’t severe enough, we will seek vengeance.”
Was Drasko challenging his chieftain? What had gotten into him?
“You will do no such thing.” Tor turned an iron-eyed glare on Drasko. “The punishment will be severe.”
After Tor and Drasko locked gazes for several tense heartbeats, she threw up her hands. “Enough!” She’d had her fill of these testosterone-soaked beasts. She was moody, tired, and nauseous. All she wanted was the comfort of her own bed with a hot pad on her neck. “I want to go home.”
Drasko held a hand down to her. “Do you need me to carry you?”
She held onto the bannister and pulled herself up with a grunt. “I’m not a baby.” And with that, she marched past her mates and thanked his parents for their hospitality. She hugged Tatiana when she handed her a bag with the goo. Then she threw open the door and stomped to the truck, her dogs trailing her. With a huff, she waited impatiently for
her mates to unlock the door, swatting them when they tried to help with her seatbelt. She slumped, clutching her small dogs when Rone and Luc sat beside her. She shook them off when they tried to hold her hands. As far as she was concerned, these wolves were going to be in the doghouse for a long time.
“ARE YOU HUNGRY, AMARA?” Rone asked as they walked into their house.
“No, I’m tired.” Chin held high, she headed for the stairs, her pups and her mates trailing behind. “I’m going to bed.”
“Let me help you.” Before she could stop him, Drasko latched onto the crook of her arm and walked her up the stairs.
When they reached the top landing, Amara protested when he tried to walk her into the giant bedroom with the slick hardwoods, plush bearskin rug, and bed wide enough to fit all of them. “I want to sleep alone tonight.”
Her bedroom was around the corner and tucked away on the side of the house. It was much smaller, with a queen bed and a bathroom with a simple tub, unlike the massive tiled benches and double rain shower in the master.
Drasko’s face fell. “Don’t you want to sleep with us?”
Every muscle in her body tensed, including her already stiff neck, which made it ache all the more. She looked down at her feet, suddenly uncomfortable. “I don’t want to have sex.”
He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “We don’t expect it.”
I just want to be by myself, she projected into her mates’ heads, emotion having choked her voice.
“Forgive us,” Hakon said as he joined them on the landing. “We thought it would be better if you didn’t know.”
“It wasn’t better.”
Hakon grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “We see that now. We won’t keep you in the dark again.”
She noticed heavy circles under Hakon’s eyes. Ignoring the pain, she craned her neck, shocked to see Drasko looked like he’d aged ten years. Why hadn’t she noticed before?
She reached for Drasko, touching his face. “What happened to you?”
