Callie's Guardian: White Tigers of Brigantia (Book 1)

by Lisa Daniels

  His mother and father didn't care quite so fanatically as Filip. They just wanted their son to be happy with his choices – and to not make the same mistakes the Lubanovs and Armanevs made.

  I wonder if she can learn to like me? I wouldn't want to force her to be something. I would like... to see her smile. To laugh. To not be afraid of this world.

  He breathed deeply, surprised at the excitement pooling in his stomach, and the quiver of arousal that came with the infatuating idea.

  Before Rose woke up and spotted him creeping on her, he silently removed himself from the room, and strode down to Filip's study, where the old man currently sat on his favorite armchair, puffing from an ivory pipe.

  Sebastian's cousin, Kostya, was talking to the ancient in a low undertone, his gray eyes drooped in sadness. The mood of the room dropped – the chill became palpable, and Sebastian walked up to his relatives, dreading the news that might pass. Maybe one of them had died in the clan clash over Musala peak. Maybe they still hadn't found Ivelina.

  “Grandson,” Filip said, waving an old, veiny hand. His white, bushy brow displayed creases like mountain crags, so deep-set that they might have been sculpted there. The waft of strong tobacco poisoned the air. “Young Kostya here has revealed to me some bad news. I am sorry.”

  Kostya faced his cousin. Sebastian emptied his mind of all thought, not wanting to leap to any assumptions.

  “Ivelina Lubanov is dead. Her body was found in the early hours of this morning. We're unsure of who her assailant or assailants are, as their scent is unfamiliar. But it does look like she had very good reason to keep running from us.”

  Sebastian knew Filip would be lamenting the loss of the descendants of his great-grandmother's children – he had been so upset to learn of the corruption that held the entire bloodline in a choke-hold. The Lubanovs were once their closest allies.

  As for Ivelina herself, Sebastian never knew her. He only knew of the need to track her down, once she had emerged from whatever hole she'd been stuffed down.

  “Her child will never know his real mother,” Sebastian said, a strange edge of desperation combining with his initial sorrow, because he knew that there would be increased pressure on him to take Rose for the job. “I find that sad.”

  Kostya's gray eyes flickered with an indiscernible emotion as he nodded.

  “We have a substitute mother. Sebastian has managed to snag a beautiful woman whom the baby seems to be quite attached to. So I am positive things will work out in the end,” Filip said, with a beaming, proud smile directed at his grandson. “I look forward to seeing her at some of our family dinners.”

  “Is that so?” Kostya peered at Sebastian in interest, caught off-guard by the news at the same time Sebastian broke out in a fresh sheen of sweat.

  “Yes. She's called Rose.”

  Fuck. I need to somehow make this work. Or my grandpa's gonna murder me.

  “We'll need to change the baby's surname, I think,” Filip said. “Lubanov still triggers people. So we might need to formally adopt him as a Gregorovitch. Though we'll need to deal with the human authorities on the right of adoption. So that might be a headache.”

  Most of the statement went over Sebastian's head. He was too busy panicking over the fact that he needed to get Rose to like him enough to stay.

  Should not have lied. I'm an idiot. I'm the one who uprooted her entire life. I'd hate me.

  When he left the room, he headed straight to the kitchen to nab a drink.

  Chapter Five

  Day fifteen of my subsequent kidnapping. The worse they've done to me since caving in my skull is to give me cheese and pickle sandwiches, and ask me to become a fake mother to the surprise baby.

  The offer of living in this neat and fancy mansion appealed to me. Being surrounded by werewolves – not so much. Sebastian mentioned something about poor impulse control.

  Sebastian... her thoughts spiraled around him. What should she feel about him?

  A nervous, excited fluttering pulsed in her stomach, sending trickles of pleasure through her veins. Maybe she did like him. More than expected. Then again, if he was the only man she was exposed to day in and day out, of course she might grow a little attracted to him. Then there was the whole fact that he happened to be fucking gorgeous.

  I suppose I am far too seriously considering swapping my paintbrush for what appears to basically be Bulgarian aristocracy.

  She showered, placed on a yellow sundress, and was just spending time carefully de-tangling her hair in front of the triple mirror dressing table, when someone frantically knocked at her door, whom she guessed to be Sebastian.

  “Come in,” she said. “I won't bite...”

  The curly-haired werewolf sauntered in, though Rose caught a slight aura of panic emanating from him. “Wow, what's with you?”

  “Oh, nothing much,” Sebastian said, waving a bag of cookies at her. “Aside from the fact I may have lied to you... a little.”

  Rose stared at him with a guarded expression, one eyebrow jerking. “About what?” She placed the hairbrush down, noting some of her hair frizzed out from static electricity. Sebastian shuffled on the spot, as if debating something, before striding up to her and grasping her by the shoulder.

  Immediately, Rose found herself hyper-alert, surprise snaking over her skin. Those mysterious silver eyes, like full moons trapped between long eyelashes, gazed at her with such intensity that she felt sections of a resolve she didn't know she possessed crumbling into nothing. The slivers of interest and attraction she bore towards him quite suddenly blossomed into something intense and burning.

  “Oh my,” she said, as the werewolf bent down to kiss her on the lips for the first time. Their lips danced a slow waltz, testing out the sensations the act unraveled in their tense bodies.

  He pulled away gently, those hooded eyes crinkled in joy. “I've been wanting to do that within an hour of you waking up. If I'm honest.”

  Rose needed a moment to catch her breath. Her cheeks burned scarlet, and she had slight difficulties keeping herself upright. “Wow. That's one way to charm your way into my panties. Much better than braining me.”

  He grinned triumphantly, his eyes dilating, flaring up in lust. His grip became tighter, and he whisked her off her feet, and twirled her around before settling her onto the bed.

  Things progressed rather quickly after that.

  Their clothes were shredded in the frenzy of passion that followed, as Sebastian kissed her lips, lashing his tongue against hers. His hands worked at her dress, frustrated by the awkward buttons until she helped him pry it off, and he kicked out of his clothes so fast, that Rose actually needed to suppress the urge to laugh.

  His body under the clothes made her wet. Lean, powerful muscles wrapped around his wiry frame, giving him a polished, toned, fighter build. Where some men bulked out like mountains, Sebastian held a whippet-thin build that suited his height, and she could feel the strength in his toned arms as he pushed his palms onto hers. He quickly became fully erect as they grinded against one another above the red-tinted bedsheets, and Rose's gasps mixed with his excited breathing, his thundering heartbeat.

  The crisp, clean-air aroma about his body made her inhale deeply, and even press her nose against his neck so she could keep breathing in the scent of him, letting it bathe her in his presence, the fact that he was here now in her arms.

  “I want you to be my mate,” he hissed into her ear, before lightly nipping it, playing with the earlobe for a good moment as she shivered, and gasped.

  Had she heard right? The words sent tremors of shock and anticipation. Do I want this?

  This became accompanied by, if I accept this, then I'm gonna be stranded with the baby. I'll need help if that happens. I can't look after it alone. I have no idea how.

  His erection pushed against her entrance, and she whimpered, bracing her legs as he fully slid inside her.

  Their bodies melded together, sharing heat, desire and infatuation, infectin
g their minds and sending them both into dizzying heights of passion. Rose found herself plummeting off the edge and enjoying every second, basking in the sight of this glorious statue of a person moving his way inside her, the way his eyes had completely glazed over in the throes of passion, and she squeezed hers shut too, tilting her head back as together, they journeyed towards their climax.

  She loved the brush of his body against hers, his olive skin making her body ripple from the soft contact. She loved the way he kissed her, leaving a light, wet trail over her neck and between her breasts, before he braced himself and increased his pace within.

  She wrapped her legs around him, urging him on, and drowning in the wave of emotion, her mind blotting itself free of all chaotic thought.

  One climax later, they lay panting side by side, grinning and still finding excuses to touch one another's skin.

  “Okay,” Rose said, after long deliberation, possibly slightly biased due to her post-orgasm glow. “I'll be your mate.”

  His face lit up in sheer joy. The smile grew until it had consumed all the sadness and frown lines in his cheeks.

  “You will? You really will?”

  Rose laughed, and leaned over to peck him on the lips. “I like you. And I think I would massively regret turning down an opportunity like that. I mean, when one of the most handsome guys I've ever seen on this planet says he wants to be my partner, well, gee, I better listen.”

  He identified her cheeky smirk, and rolled them both over, until she sprawled out on top of his lightly sweating body. “Given the less than ideal circumstances in which we met, I s’pose this will have to do. Just wanna say, though, I promise to give you the best life I can possibly offer.”

  Rose sighed, and rested her head against his chest. “That would be nice,” she murmured.

  Her latent aspirations once lay in an art school, and traveling the world, with no vision of a boyfriend by her side, though she had hoped somewhere down the line for this to be possible. She hoped to make her parents proud.

  A new path unveiled itself like a budding flower, showing her something beautiful she had never considered before. The mountains. The wild. The soft, silvery eyes of Sebastian, and his firm affection. And an abandoned baby who had unwittingly been the catalyst of it all.

  She stroked him on the chest with her soft palms. “I could easily fall in love with someone like you. Just keep feeding me those cookies and I'll be yours indefinitely.”

  He squeezed her tightly, peppering kisses on her scalp. “I think I can give you more than cookies. I can give you love.”

  Love. Such a simple word, to invoke such powerful feelings. Rose shivered, cold and warm at the same time. She needed a moment to recover, and hugged him tightly the whole while, her limbs shivering and weak, her mind unable to process the information and to stick to any one emotion at the same time. It made her happy. It made her sad.

  It made her free.

  **

  When they went to see the baby in the nursery later on, the lady who had been there before was cradling the little one in her arms, humming a lullaby. She smiled when they walked in, and Sebastian greeted her, before she bowed, handed the baby to Rose, and left the room.

  She watched the retreating back of the cleaning lady, in her simple black and white frock, before glancing down at the cooing baby, which now tried to grasp at her fingers. Intelligence shone from those young eyes.

  A secret baby, from a woman long-believed dead. A baby that might be sought by the ominous person or people that had killed Ivelina Lubanov. He certainly didn't come without any strings attached.

  A baby that for some inexplicable reason, which she was sure it would regret when growing up – liked her. It actively giggled when she appeared in front of it, and it did so now. It seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that she wasn't the real mother.

  That thought made her frown. Just because she happened to be a woman, didn't automatically qualify her to be a mother. If she committed to this, to Sebastian, to his family, there was something she wanted to do.

  “I want to name him,” she said.

  Sebastian wrapped his arms around her, staring at his distant relative. “Of course.” He hugged her gently, and brushed at her smooth, red hair. “Unless it's a terrible name.”

  “I was thinking after my grandpa. He was called Anthony.”

  Sebastian contemplated this, then whispered, “I like it. Let's go with it. Honor your ancestor's memory.”

  Rose stroked the newly-named Anthony on the head, smiling at his little form.

  For good or for worse, it seemed that Rose had thrown her lot in with the werewolves now.

  She couldn't complain. Sebastian was a dream come true, and Anthony, well. She could likely learn to love the little tyke the same way her love for the werewolf behind her stoked itself, rising from obscurity into something lodged in her heart, unwilling to move.

  A future. Hope. And happiness.

  “Thank you, Sebastian,” she whispered, as she passed the baby to him.

  “What for?”

  “For letting me have the chance to experience this. To be a part of this.”

  “No problem,” he said, with a vibrant smile. He held out one hand for her to take, and kissed her on the cheek.

  Anthony started making fussing noises, which only quelled when they both kissed the baby on his cheeks.

  “I might regret this,” Rose said.

  Or I might not.

  The End

  Isabelle’s Mate

  Shifters of the Bulgarian Bloodline

  (Book 6)

  Prologue

  She knew where he lived. Down by the house at the end of the lane, surrounded by rose bushes, rhododendrons, and an old, creaking sign that had been swinging on rusty hinges for perhaps centuries. He had no idea, of course, who she was.

  She knew exactly what he was, however. Her family hunted things like him as a profession. Survivors of werewolf attacks, people who grew up with burning hatred in their hearts, and a thirst for vengeance that didn't stop once the perpetrator died. Vengeance went on forever.

  Rumors floated around in the wilds of North Dakota. People reported noise and strange occurrences. Isabelle scouted the area, along with her two hunting buddies, asking the locals if anything stood out to them. They didn't notice much, aside from the people who had moved into the old farm at the end of Witchden Lane, who mostly kept to themselves, occasionally seen driving into the local town to pick up food supplies.

  Isabelle Oswell knew better.

  She, Ben and Kevin approached the farm under the new moon, knowing that they took longest to shift at the polar opposite of a full moon – and that their powers were significantly weaker. They'd packed vanadium-loaded sub-machine guns, and wore dark clothes with catnip sprayed onto them; for some reason, the scent of this plant helped obscure their normal body odors well, though obviously a werewolf might get suspicious of a moving catnip cloud approaching their property.

  “Good luck,” Ben whispered, as they clasped hands together, ready to take on the werewolves. If they were unsure of whom they faced, werewolf or human, they clipped them with the bullet. The vanadium invoked survival instincts, forcing the werewolf to begin transition.

  There should be two werewolves here, according to the intel gathered.

  Isabelle crouched out here now with her gun, for all the humans who might die when the craving took the monsters. For her mother who had died, and for her father, who dedicated the rest of his life to learning about werewolves and hunting them down.

  Safe in the bushes, Isabelle scratched at her nose, watching intently for activity from the farmhouse. They would wait patiently, like the predators they came to hunt.

  Kevin placed an arm on her shoulder, underneath her dark blonde hair. He took nervous, swallowing breaths, trying to control his automatic fear whenever he came close to the same species that killed his wife.

  Someone stepped out of the door. A stout-faced, short
man with glinting red eyes – making it easy to identify the werewolf inside.

  He took out a pack of cigarettes, ready to start smoking, when he caught the heady scent of catnip on their clothes.

  Curious, the werewolf, eyes gleaming in puzzlement from the congregation of scent, approached the concealed fence-line where the three hunters clustered together.

  Isabelle silently switched her weapon for her Glock, attached with a silencer.

  Ben took out a piece of raw, bloody meat, and placed it near him. The distinctive scent wafted free in the wind.

  The werewolf's nostrils twitched violently, and his eyes shimmered from the smell of blood. His fingers lengthened slightly. His eyes sparkled like rubies.

  She needed him closer. Close enough so that if anyone else lingered in the house, they wouldn't see him drop. They waited, Kevin shaking as if caught in a strong breeze, Ben with adrenaline and hatred contorting his features.

  Just a little more...

  The werewolf halted, a few meters from the hedge. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  Realizing he might have caught something, such as the oil of a gun, or perhaps the combination of catnip scent and sudden raw meat odor struck some sense into his blood-lust infused brain, he turned and barked at the house, “I think we have intruders! I'm checking it out right now!”

  So much for silence and subtlety. Isabelle instantly stood up and aimed directly at the werewolf's head as he turned back to face her. Before he could register what was happening, she popped three vanadium bullets into his skull.

  He dropped like lead, the red eyes wide in horror and surprise. Brown liquid mixed with blood oozed out of his skull, and the eyes dulled, becoming glassy and lifeless.

  There were barks and screams of rage.

  “Retreat?” Ben said. “Sounds like more than two. Might be risky now.”