The Mating Game: Werewolves of Montana Book 8

by Bonnie Vanak

  Then her face reshaped itself, and her body lengthened, her hair growing golden and curly once more. The magick worked within her to restore her Skin looks, as he knew it would.

  He cared not. It was Ciara, his Ciara from the time when he was mortal, the only one who loved him for who he was, not for his powers.

  “You will always be an Ogre inside. I did not have the power to change that.” He rested his hand upon her heart. “The Ogre I love, the Ogre I’ve loved since we first met all those centuries ago. You, my darling Ciara, must join forces now to defeat Andromeda.”

  Xavier picked up her hands, stroking them with his own.

  One last kiss, for remembrance. Xavier took her mouth in desperation, feeling her life beat inside her.

  And then to his shock and wonder, this time as he kissed her, he felt the beat of a second life fluttering inside her. Stunned, he broke the kiss, staring at her. He no longer had his powers. How could he discern this?

  A soft female voice spoke in his mind. I give you a gift, my dear Xavier. A gift of knowing your legacy will continue,

  Thank you, Danu, he silently told the Goddess.

  Xavier doubted Ciara was even aware. He kissed her again, joy and regret stabbing his heart.

  He would die, but their child would live.

  Ciara lifted a hand and traced the outline of a heart over his bearded mouth.

  “I give you my heart so we will always be together, even unto death,” she whispered, saying the words she’d uttered to him when he’d died onto his mortal life centuries ago.

  Tears clogged his throat. “I shall cherish your gift through eternity and return it to you.”

  Suddenly he felt an odd tickle in his belly, a sensation that began to spread along his spine. It felt as if someone had forced him to touch a crackling electrical line. He winced and tried to fight it.

  Dark magick.

  To his horror, he saw his body begin to fade. Something was pulling him away from Ciara, away from his home.

  “Xavier,” she screamed.

  And then the world winked out, and grayness rushed up to meet him.

  22

  The nightmare had not ended. Oh, she had wished with all her heart it was over upon seeing Xavier’s dear, handsome face in the garden. She had watched him, feeling nothing as he yanked her from that terrible place and transported her here to safety. And then she’d felt warmth and the infusion of tremendous power—good, light magick.

  Ciara paced the townhouse, her breathing rapid and her heart racing, but oddly, she felt no exhaustion. Only the exhilaration of being filled with enormous energy, as if she could climb mountains and then fly off them.

  But Xavier was gone. She was unable to get him back.

  The others wizards must surely know.

  Standing, she stretched out her hands. A bold move, made in desperation.

  “Tristan, Cadeyrn, Gideon, to me now!”

  The three wizards suddenly appeared in the bedroom, taking up all the space. They were tall, muscled, and did not look happy. Ciara trembled but held her ground.

  Power hummed inside her, as if the wizards had ignited it from within and recognized beings of equal magick.

  Cadeyrn, the oldest, the Shadow Wizard, judge and ruler over witches and zombies. Dressed in black leather pants, the wizard was bare-chested. Two leather straps crossed his muscled chest and were held together with a brass ring. Twin swords were sheathed in leather scabbards upon his back. His eyes seemed dark as pitch, flickering with gray shadows like mist. Long, dark blond hair was tipped with dark strands. An intricate tattoo of ancient Celtic runes covered his right shoulder and right biceps.

  A tall, handsome man dressed in a crimson-and-gold tunic, red leggings, and red boots stood next to him. The tips of his gold hair were dipped in red. Gideon, the Crimson Wizard, judge and ruler over Fae. A jeweled dagger hung from a golden belt around his lean waist.

  And Tristan, the Silver Wizard, judge and ruler over shifters. With his dark, silver-tipped hair, his burning, black eyes, black tunic, trousers, and doeskin boots, the wizard looked dangerous, but he was the one who threatened her the least. The magick inside her told her that Tristan had mated his longtime love, Nikita. Nikita was pregnant with their first child.

  Gideon took one look at her and muttered a fierce oath in an ancient tongue. He removed the dagger at his waist. With the tip, he began tracing runes over the walls of the living room.

  Confused, she backed up, afraid of their power, yet knowing they could not harm her.

  Tilting his head, Caderyn nodded. Then he glanced at her. “Carlina is still alive. Your mother will be fine. I will restore her and remove the spell, and send her back to her colony.”

  As he vanished into the bedroom, Tristan came toward her and touched her hair, lifting a strand and studying it. “Xavier gave you all his powers. Your hair…”

  She lifted a lock and felt fresh wonder, awe, and fear. “He received Danu’s permission to endow me with all his powers.”

  “We do not know for certain that you have all his powers. We must see what happened.” Gideon finished tracing runes, which suddenly appeared as sparkling, red lines, spreading across the pale yellow of Xavier’s townhouse.

  Caderyn came back into the living room. “Carlina is well, and back with her Nymphs. You shall see her again. But first…”

  He looked at Gideon.

  The Crimson Wizard went to her, handed her the dagger, hilt first. “Child, I must ask you to cut yourself. I cannot harm you…” A rueful smile touched his mouth. “Xavier would have my head if I tried, and if what I suspect happened is true, none of us can touch you anyway. But we must know for certain. Draw your blood.”

  His expression was grim, but his dark eyes were kind. She felt no malevolence or cruelty in him, only ancient sadness. Ciara took the dagger and cut her palm, wincing.

  White blood welled up before the skin neatly folded together, healing almost instantly. She felt faint.

  “It is true,” Tristan muttered.

  Gideon went to the wall where a red rune streaked across the bookcase, down to the floor. He reached up to tap the wall. The long sleeve of his tunic hitched past his wrist, showing a ridge of ugly scars. Ciara stared. He caught her stare, flushed a little, and pulled his sleeve up to hide his arm.

  Gideon placed his palm upon the wall, and it seemed to breathe. Scared but fascinated, she joined him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Xavier’s home, like all of ours, holds his memories. It’s warded with magick, and with a little power, the walls can tell us what happened.”

  Gideon waved a hand, and the runes on the wall vanished. Instead, a series of images began appearing like a movie. It was her life and Xavier’s. Xavier meeting her at the bar as he served her drinks. Xavier touring the land with her. Xavier making love to her, both of them groaning as they tangled in the sheets.

  Cadeyrn’s eyes widened, and Gideon grinned. “We may fast forward through this part,” he announced, flipping his fingers as she pinked.

  Then Xavier, taking her prone, stone-like body from Andromeda’s garden back to his townhouse, and the goddess appearing before him.

  Xavier vanishing before her eyes.

  Xavier confronting Andromeda.

  Tears filled her eyes as the visions vanished. Gideon shook his head. “He’s with the witch.”

  “And mortal.” Cadeyrn looked deeply troubled. “Very vulnerable.”

  “Danu granted his request because he could not defeat the Dark Lord. He was helpless against him after swearing an oath to him while both Xavier and Duncan were still mortal.” Gideon’s gaze was kind. “And he loves you very much. He sacrificed himself to save you.”

  She stared at the other wizards. “We have to save him. He’s going to die at Andromeda’s hands unless we do.”

  He awoke in a cave, his body aching from the unnatural pull through time and space. Xavier put a hand to his pounding head.

 
; Mage senses detected the stench of darkness and neocromancing. He opened his eyes.

  “Xavier,” a sultry voice murmured.

  Blinking, he looked around. He was sitting on a cold, concrete floor in a basement set up as a laboratory. Bottles and vials cluttered several shelves, and the acrid smell of candlelight tickled his nostrils.

  Someone clapped, and several lamps ignited, filling the room with light. He turned toward the voice.

  Andromeda.

  He rubbed his pounding temples, wondering if this was a bad dream. Andromeda was as lovely as the day he’d first seen her when he had been twenty-four and apprenticed to Duncan, his former master. Golden hair the color of corn silk tumbled down her back, thick and curly. Her violet eyes, fringed with dark lashes, were soft and dreamy. Her figure, covered in a green gown, was curved, the waist so slender a man could encircle it with his hands.

  He knew every inch of her body, how soft and supple her long limbs were, how tight her sheath was, how sensuously she moved when they’d had sex. How very warm and wet her mouth had been encircling his cock when she’d pleasured him.

  Andromeda was a lovely vision fabricated in every man’s wet dream.

  But not his.

  Nothing but darkness thrived in her heart. Her looks were as false as a mirage in the desert. And Xavier had been far too thirsty for far too long. Ciara was shorter, plumper, and much lovelier.

  His heart beat only for his lovely Ciara. Not for this creature of darkness, who thrived on pain and suffering.

  Ciara and her mother would live. Drained of power, his body weakened, he forced himself to stand upright.

  “Andromeda.” He folded his arms over his chest. “You’ve been resurrected. Pity.”

  Her lovely crimson mouth flattened a minute, and then she smiled. Nothing real about that smile. He knew it hid deep contempt and anger.

  Her gaze swept up and down his body. “You’re still gorgeous. Such an incredibly sexy wizard. Those baby blue eyes…and your cock was always so hard, thick…”

  Xavier waited, watching her moisten her mouth.

  “I always loved sucking you. Even your balls tasted sweet.”

  Andromeda glanced down at his crotch, and his balls shriveled at the thought of her touching them.

  Once he’d eagerly welcomed her. Now only nausea churned in his stomach.

  “We had it good.” She sashayed up to him and ran her nails up his chest, a move that had once made him raging hard and eager to please her.

  Nothing about this woman aroused him. He wondered how he could have been so blinded by her beauty.

  Perhaps I have learned something over the past six hundred years, he thought in sour amusement.

  “Make love to me, Xavier,” she murmured, her gaze locked to his. “I forgive you for turning me over to Danu. You had no choice. You are her puppet. Make love to me, and let’s recapture our past. I’ve never had a lover like you. You are splendid. You were the greatest fuck I’ve ever had.”

  “I’d sooner stick my dick in a dead dragon, Andromeda.” He removed her hands from his chest and stepped back, his skin crawling.

  “You bastard,” she hissed. “How dare you insult me?”

  “That was no insult, only the truth.” He considered. “Well, not a mere dead dragon. A dead Hellfire dragon that smells like burning tar.”

  Confusion wrinkled her lovely brow. Andromeda frowned. “You want me. Your mind may deny it, but you cannot. I could not have summoned you here unless you wished to be here with me, wizard. You are far too powerful.”

  I was. And now I’m nothing more than a simple Mage.

  But he had to stall her, for every moment he kept Andromeda from discovering the truth gave Ciara more time to adjust to her newfound powers and protect herself.

  He rubbed a hand along his short beard. “Perhaps I wished to see you again.”

  She looked pleased.

  “To find out what I missed all these centuries.”

  Andromeda preened.

  He looked her up and down. Xavier offered a cold smile. “Haven’t missed much.”

  Now the anger leeched out, her golden hair turning dry and frizzy, standing on end as if Andromeda’s fury electrified it.

  Xavier lifted one brow. “Having a bad hair day, darling?”

  Andromeda snapped her fingers, and he appeared inside an iron cage. Senses reeling, he felt the taint of powerful, dark magick as manacles encircled his wrists and ankles, pulling him spread-eagled.

  He was nude.

  She gave him a mocking glance. “You always did look best without clothing, dear Xavier.”

  Straining against the chains, he gritted his teeth.

  “Isn’t it ironic?” Andromeda brushed a sharp fingernail against the iron bar, the screeching sound causing a thin trickle of blood to pour from his eardrums. “Here you are, the great and powerful Xavier, and soon I will have all your power. It could have been pleasant for you, Xavier, making love to me. All your magick, as it was meant to be when you first died at Duncan’s hand. Your old master, my new master, the Dark Lord.” Square, white teeth flashed at him in a humorless smile. “Darling.”

  “You’re too late, bitch. I have no power left.”

  Andromeda sneered. “Liar.”

  But she reached through the bars and laid a hand upon his heart. He winced at the burning.

  Her cool, violet gaze filled with knowing and anger. “What did you do, Xavier? I feel only a dim thread of magick, weaker than that of a Mage. What did you do, you bastard? You’re a fucking mortal!”

  Smiling at her distress, he felt great relief. “I gave all my powers to Ciara. And my immortality. And she is far from your tentacles. You will never lay your claws on her.”

  Andromeda hissed, and the glamour etching her face dropped. Xavier recoiled, glad she finally showed her true face.

  Deep grooves lined her cheeks, stretched out from her narrowed, rheumy eyes. Her paper-thin skin had a road map of wrinkles, and her hands were blue-veined, the fingers bent like claws.

  He lifted a dark brow, considered. “Forget the beauty treatment this morning, darling?”

  She hissed again and raked her sharp nails across his chest. It stung a little.

  And then she stepped back with a smile. “I have enough magick to put you in hell for a long, long time.”

  Xavier’s eyes widened as the witch went to the opposite side of the room and brought forth a wand about the size of a pencil. The tip glowed blue.

  Coldfire.

  She flicked the wand at him, and stinging pain lanced his torso. Xavier glanced down.

  Red blood, not white. Of course. He was mortal once more.

  “I am going to burn you, wizard. And you will die once more, this time screaming for mercy.”

  His skin crawled, and his heart raced with panic. Oh gods, this was going to be bad, so very bad.

  Worse than the first time seven hundred years ago.

  Maybe her aim would be worse than Duncan’s had been all those centuries ago when he’d died to his mortal life. He could hope. His heart pounded in his eardrums. Never before had he felt this boiling panic, a terror of anticipation. His magick had protected him ever since he’d become the Crystal Wizard.

  Now he had no power. Nothing, except his wits and courage.

  Well, let’s hope one of them holds out, he thought humorlessly. But then she pointed the wand at his chest, and a slow, terrible burning began inside, feeling as if dozens of stinging ants crawled inside his skin.

  Again.

  And again.

  She flicked the wand. Blood flowed and dripped down his chest. Pain sliced him like a hot razor. He closed his eyes and grimaced, refusing to give her the satisfaction of his screams.

  Xavier tried to imagine it happened to someone else, the screams inside him rising to a crescendo. He saw himself as if from a great distance, a pathetic Mage without power, without even a puny tendril of magick to combat Andromeda’s lashings.

  The
torture was unyielding, her resolve great as she cackled, throwing bolt after bolt at him.

  He conjured the image of Ciara—sweet, gentle Ciara with the fire of passion heating her blood. The little Ogre girl who had given him a ring made from love, asking for nothing in return.

  The innocent yet savvy teenager who had captured his heart back in the 1950s, when they’d slow danced to Elvis.

  The spunky Nymph who’d crashed a tractor and refused to give up on him, even when all others had.

  The woman whose eyes went soft with passion as they made love.

  He held on to that image by sheer force of will, biting his lip against the agony until his mouth bled.

  Andromeda stopped, giving him a temporary reprieve. Gasping, he hung suspended by the chains, drawing in deep breaths.

  And then she lifted the wand again.

  This time, pointing at his privates.

  Xavier paled.

  And screamed. Over and over, he cried out one name. “Ciara!”

  23

  Piercing screams echoed in her mind, anguished cries of pain so deep, it sliced through her like a knife. Deep male cries of horrific suffering.

  Xavier.

  They were connected through the bond they’d shared when they made love. Crying out, she held her head, the horrible agony throbbing inside him spreading through her blood.

  “He’s dying! We have to rescue him.”

  Ciara paced the living room as the Silver Wizard shook his head.

  “No. It is impossible.”

  “I can’t let him die! He sacrificed his powers to save me! You have to help me get him away from her. He must have done this for a reason!”

  “I cannot.” Tristan leaned against the mantel, crossing one booted foot over the other.

  Tears burned in her eyes. “Then you’re just going to stand there and let him die? When I could help him?”

  “No.” A slow smile touched Tristan’s mouth. “I did not say that. I cannot help you. Nor can Gideon or Cadeyrn. We are restricted. But there is another.”

  Cadeyrn nodded. “Do it, Tristan.”

  The Silver Wizard straightened and stretched out his arms skyward. “Drust! To me now!”