by Lisa Daniels
Somewhere, she felt like she didn't deserve happiness. She knew logically the thought to be ridiculous. The deeper emotional part, however, whispered to her insecurities and doubts.
His sister is pregnant. He'll want to stay with her. Elinor might sell me off to the Kasanovs if the conflict becomes too much. This created immeasurable sadness. She didn't want to leave him. Neither did she want to stay here. Happiness insisted on dangling out of reach, taunting her with its proximity.
If she ended up being Evo's mate for real, custom dictated he took on her family name. Evo Armanev. She tasted the word in her mouth, appreciating the way the surname rolled over her tongue. She went further, imagining them getting on a plane together, flying across the mountains and the sea, spotting America from a distance as they broke through the clouds. Once past airport protocol, they could go to a quiet spot together, morph into feral forms and just bound across the landscape. Free at last. Safe at last.
If Frey came, however, that cemented the dream, made it reality. And the woman had every reason to move. She was pregnant with Luelle's niece, and Yanus planned to give everything up to make the move with Luelle.
Perhaps the staff might follow, too, and maybe they could set up a new hotel in North Dakota, and entrust Springmoon to Elinor.
So many possibilities. Such little time. Heart pinching, Luelle focused on running her hand through Evo's frizzy hair, wishing to the wolf spirit that things between them worked out and that no one died when the invasion made its way to Sapareva Banya. Luelle reflected briefly on her husband, and his stubborn refusal to take her name, and hers on him. She had declared she didn't want the family name of a low-born Siberian tribe. Weeks of punishment later, bruised and heckled, she nonetheless kept her family name. She wasn't proud of it, though. Her parents sold her out, breaking the former illusion of pride.
She just didn't want another name binding her to someone she didn't like.
Smiling, she got out of bed, foraging through the wardrobe for some appropriate clothing. She cleaned herself up in the shower and completed her morning ritual, and was just brushing her teeth when she heard a vicious howl from outside. The sound came in broad daylight, when humans were up and about.
They wouldn't. They wouldn't dare compromise our existence. Not without destroying everything we've worked for!
She spat out paste and dashed to the window, staring out to the run-down street, even as Evo struggled out of bed, bleary-eyed and snuffling.
“What –?” She heard a thump behind her, and turned to watch Evo prise himself off the floor. “What's happening?”
“I don't know.” Luelle chewed her lip, running a hand over her chin. The howling terrified her all the same.
Her heart gave a horrific lurch when a human sped down the street, yelling for help.
A werewolf pounced after him, taking giant strides that ate up the distance, squashing him to the ground. Snarling and spitting, the wolf ripped at his arm, taking the time to savage and flay his flesh.
Evo saw this as well. Elinor wasn't in the hotel, adding oil to the fire.
“Ehem.” Evo fumbled for his gun, clicked it ready and discreetly opened the window. He aimed at the werewolf who happily devoured the human, overcome by blood-lust, and squeezed the trigger twice. “Take that, fucker.”
The werewolf dropped like a stone on top of the human. Two more werewolves, drawn by the scent of the carnage, had loped in after their friend. This gave Evo the time to train his gun on them.
“Not sure if I can hit at this distance...”
He tried, anyway. Eight bullets later, one of the werewolves had dropped, and the other hobbled away, vanadium burning his blood.
“Wow,” Luelle said. “That was surprisingly easy.”
“Yeah, well. I'm more concerned about the fact that they're attacking a town that can be a tourist hot spot. Do you know how to use a gun?”
Luelle shook her head. “No. But I can fight as a werewolf.”
“No. You can't go outside. You're a prime target. Distance shooting though, that's not an issue.” Evo was breathing hard and fast, panic and adrenaline mixing in his skin. “Think they're all invading here or it's a small group?”
“They won't split. Not in these parts.” Luelle waved at Evo to follow her, and they dashed out together, alerting everyone in the hotel unaware of the action that shit was going down. Big time.
However, Luelle didn't spot Arina anywhere. She wondered if Arina had disappeared, but then caught the faint odor of dead, exposed flesh and hesitated. Evo caught it as well. His nose twitched, and he shot an alarmed glare at Luelle.
Wordlessly, they vaulted up to the top floor of the hotel, into the room where Ricten Spirova sat imprisoned.
Inside the chamvers, Arina stood over Ricten Spirova's corpse. She smiled at them, drenched in blood, her mouth twisted demoniacally.
“Arina...” Evo growled at the human, blue eyes glinting with feral anger. “We might have needed him.”
“I don't care.” She bared her teeth. “He had to die.”
“You shouldn't have gone into the room,” Luelle said. “He would have taunted you. Goaded you.”
Arina stood proud, straight, supremely confident and defiant in her decision to kill the werewolf. “He killed my family. He killed my father. He ripped out my little brother's intestines in front of me and ate them. My brother was screaming the whole time. He didn't care. He liked it. He loved inflicting that kind of agony.” Arina's voice cracked. Salty tears created washed, light pink trails over her cheeks.
Luelle and Evo stood silent. Neither of them could disagree with her decision. Neither wanted to fault her. They all shared the bonds of sisters and brothers.
She took one last glance at the gutted corpse of Ricten Spirova. Arina had yanked out his intestines, in a grotesque parody of what had happened to her brother. Thankfully, she hadn't tried chewing on them.
“Come on,” Evo muttered. “Clean up fast. And help us with the invading werewolves.”
Arina took a sharp, ragged breath, then nodded. She wiped her nose. “Okay.”
It saddened Luelle, and cut at the emotions inside to see her friend reduced to this vengeful husk, burnt out by her desire for revenge. To see Arina capable of such an act shattered the innocent picture Luelle preserved in her mind, of the smiling little human girl who played with her friends at the lakes so long ago.
She explained this to Evo as they joined the defenses, along with two older werewolves who had healed up and knew how to handle guns.
“Her innocence was destroyed the moment she saw Ricten cleave through her family,” Evo pointed out.” He caressed Luelle's hand as they paced through the hotel, checking every room with a clear, window view of the streets. The top floor held expansive views of the surrounding hills and mountains, but the ground below was obscured with the tops of building, making it bad visibility to shoot. They did, however, hear the screams, the roars, and dark shapes blur, wrecking cars, traffic, and inciting panic.
The human police are going to be all over this. If they're not killed already. Who knows if our contacts in the media, government and Mafia will be able to shrug this off.
They retreated to the second floor, picking a window with the view of a nearby swimming pool, and two roads. A werewolf blurred past, but Luelle recognized the scent as a Gregorovitch, and stayed Evo's hand.
“That's an ally.”
Evo inhaled, taking in the distinctive odor of the Gregorovitch. “Thanks. I've only really scented the Spirovas. And, of course, Armanev,” he said, with a tiny grin.
“Of course,” Luelle smirked. She leaned her head on Evo's shoulder. “Evo.”
“Yes?” He accepted the embrace, but kept alert for any dangers. Two more Gregorovitches dashed past and sighted the two of them at the window.
One pointed vigorously behind him, and Evo slid his eyes to see four werewolves chasing their allies.
Gunshots popped out from a side window – Frey, sniping
them down as they stormed past. Evo did the same.
Werewolves are so stubborn, not using guns, thinking they can't be injured by them. Like we haven't devised a way to stuff vanadium into our weapons. Luelle watched in amusement as both the Gregorovitches howled their thanks and continued on, hunting down the invaders. Apparently, Elinor wasn't slacking. She'd been acting on Ricten's information.
“Yes?” Evo said, picking up from Luelle's attempt at conversation.
Luelle kissed him on the ear, not wanting to restrict his shooting capabilities. “I want you to come with me.”
Evo allowed his attention to flick to her. His eyes softened. “Of course I will.”
“You will?” Luelle's stomach churned in giddy frenzy. The weight upon her heart, burdened by doubts and worries, temporarily evaporated.
Evo smiled at her excitement. “How often do we find the opportunity to stay with the ones we love? All because we keep thinking we don't deserve it, or because something bad will happen.” He locked gazes with her for a moment, and she felt her breath being stolen away. “'Sides. I think my sister might be having a change of heart. Something to do with your brother and the little parasite in her body.”
Luelle nodded, unable to wipe the happiness off her face. Screw her parents. Screw the people who had tried to imprison her and force her to be something she was not.
Screw the old ones who slaughtered innocents like Arina's family, and forced them into dark places.
She kissed Evo on the lips, cupping his cheeks with her palms. “It's official. We're together.”
Evo inclined his head slightly. “I'm okay with this arrangement. I might possibly love you as well.”
“Possibly?”
The smile turned mischievous. He wrapped an arm around her back and pulled her close. “Okay, beautiful one who I might love. Time to pop some baddies.”
Luelle stared up towards the sun as it approached midday, hiding behind wisps of cloud. Wrapped in his arms, she firmly believed they would make it.
True love, after all, never died.
The End
Rose’s Mate
Shifters of the Bulgarian Bloodline
(Book 5)
Prologue
She ran for her life, her breath huffing in the cold night. She shot past streetlamps, lonely buildings and abandoned machinery, her hairy feet pounding the concrete. Her enhanced sight alighted on shapes within the blackness, shapes that pursued her.
Her breathing became manic, panicked. She didn't just fear for her life. She feared for the little one, bundled in her arms, eyes squinted as he stared up at his mother, not yet scared or wailing, just curious. The rocking motion of her gait actually helped lull him into a sleepy yawn. The bundles protected him against the cold whip of wind, and all she could do was pray, and hope that she might escape.
Without her arms swinging like pistons at her sides, she couldn't run as fast as normal. She loped, sometimes swerved, sometimes risked leaps, all the while listening for her pursuers.
They would want her back. They desired the child in her arms. Her thoughts slid to the Basement, and terror froze her brain for a moment, before the adrenaline kicked the fear aside into something manageable.
She never, ever wanted to return to the Basement again. Not to that place where women suffered and where their plaintive cries rent the night, heard only by uncaring ears, of those who drank in pain like food and water, who practised their distorted perceptions of an ideal life.
Ideal! Chains were their ideal. Producing offspring from suffering and hate filled them with sadistic joy. They were so careful, too, picking people no one would miss. Human girls without passports, women trafficked from seedy regions and red-light districts to the Basement.
How they rejoiced when she had been delivered into their midst. How they trapped her in their web of evil, knowing she wouldn't be missed, because everyone thought her dead, like the rest of her clan. The others had descended upon her family with the ferocity of the Devil, leaving her with nothing but hatred and seeping darkness in her heart.
Now, she didn't know where to go, where to run, except that this child of hers couldn't be left to that fucked-up cult, to be raised in their insane and depraved image, without the chance of learning how to live a happy and decent life. And perhaps, in turn, making others suffer as she had suffered when reaching prime age.
Never again. The cycle needed to break, to wrench itself from the shackles of the past, and the perpetration of limitless evil.
Never again.
If she was lucky, she'd be killed. That Gregorovitch who had been asking around for her – she knew he wanted her dead, too. Just like her family.
The baby in her arms, nameless, because she feared his death in the first early weeks of his life, blinked at her with yellow and blue eyes. He had the gift. Once he had weaned himself off her milk, the babe would disappear forever into the cracks of evil.
Ivelina ran, gasping as she did so, her breath harsh and sobbing as she sprinted through the night.
Half an hour went without any glimpse or scent of the others. In a flash, she morphed back into her human form, before pounding upon the door of a random house. She pounded and pounded until the light came on, and someone peered cautiously through the curtains. Their eyes widened at the sight of her as a filthy mess, clutching the baby tight.
They opened the door, and Ivelina saw a young woman, likely a student, in her pajamas, with a scruff of red hair, concern and anxiety etched upon her pretty features.
Ivelina started talking to the girl, but the girl replied in English, shaking her head and holding up her hands.
Ivelina switched. “Take baby. Please. Protect him. Have money.” She dug into her baggy robes, and dropped dozens of notes onto the floor of the astonished woman. “Take him. Keep him safe. I have to go.”
Without giving the woman any time to protest, Ivelina placed the baby at her feet. Then, with a heart-wrenching sob of anger and bitterness, she went back the way she came. To lure her chasers away.
The look of horror and confusion on the girl's face might have made her laugh at one time. No more laughter existed for Ivelina these days.
There was only darkness.
Chapter One
Rose Talbot didn't expect the knock, or the random baby. That strange, desperate woman who begged and pleaded for her to protect the baby, before dashing off into the night, left many questions lodged in Rose's skull, and more than just a passing sensation of hysteria. It wasn't like Rose knew how to rear a baby, either, and she certainly couldn't produce milk. The only real option would be to give the thing to the authorities. She had scooped it up from the doorstep after a few fruitless attempts to call the woman back. The crazy, matted individual had well and truly vanished into the unknown, and Rose didn't fancy the idea of chasing after her in the dead of night.
She placed the baby on the table, and tried calming herself down with a drink of water and a snack whilst she figured out what the hell she was supposed to do with it. She scooped up the money as well, not bothering to flick through it, preoccupied with bigger, pressing concerns.
I have no idea what the fuck just happened. The woman's frantic, ravaged look sprang to Rose's mind. She looked like the product of someone wasted by years of drug abuse.
Have they just dumped me with some unwanted baby? Is this how people in Bulgaria get rid of their newborns? Instead of throwing one in the trash, just throw it at someone's door for all the Vernon and Petunia Dursleys of the world to take it in?
She stared at the baby for a little while longer, heart tap dancing in trepidation, because damnit, she was a student, not a baby farmer.
Imagine explaining this to her family back home in America. Hey mom, I just want you to know that some crazy Bulgarian lady threw this baby at me and asked me to look after it and left a massive wad of cash on my doorstep.
The cash was nice, of course, though Rose saw it more as blood money than something useful. The last thing y
ou wanted or needed when studying in another country was to draw attention to yourself.
For all Rose knew, the baby was the result of some Mafia hit-and-run, and by carrying the kid, she'd be right in their cross-hairs.
Fuck me, then. She examined the chubby, snuffling baby. He opened his eyes and blinked at her with peculiar-colored irises – one yellow, one blue. She had never seen a human with a yellow eye before, and it looked creepy.
God, what if I have, like, the Devil's child on my doorstep?
The baby made gurgling sounds, and waved his hands toward her. His toothless face opened in a smile.
Astonished, Rose watched as the baby laughed and giggled at her, the sound quietening when she tentatively let him close one chubby fist around her smallest finger. Then, the baby burbled, eyes facing the door. Rose sipped her glass of water, before freezing as a knock sounded.
Instantly alert, she released herself from the baby's grip, quickly grabbed the wad of cash the woman had left and stuffed it into her handbag, which bulged suspiciously from the paper money.
Then, paranoia racing through her, because who knocked at someone's place in the middle of the night, aside from baby-dropping mothers? – she peeked through the curtains.
A man stood at the door, his hands tucked into his pockets, a scowl upon his face.
Oh shit. Ohhhhh holy moly I'm done for.
Rose's instant reaction was to freak out. Shit! He looks like a serial killer. Is he a serial killer? Why is he outside my door? I better not answer. She caught a glimpse of a lean, predatory build to his frame. He wore a black leather jacket, blue jeans and boots, and glowered at her door. Pale eyes shone from his face, under curly dark hair.
Her first thought upon examining him was that he looked a little like one of her favorite characters from a film – Count Ademar. He possessed those same cheekbones, the rounded face, the noble lips and chin with smoky, lidded eyes giving a permanently sleepy expression.
The second thought was that Count Ademar in the film happened to be evil.
