Seeking Her Mates Boxed Set: A Shifter Menage Serial (All Five Parts)

by Carina Wilder

  “Cruelty, ambition, greed. It comes with many names. You may think that it is simply one entity, controlling many. But it’s never so simple. As you know well, shifters cannot be so easily controlled, except for those who are weakened and corrupted by the creatures within them. Some déors are more easily manipulated than others. A snake is less empathetic than a wolf.”

  Lily thought about her previous worries about Graeme’s dragon and how it had at times seemed to dominate his human side. But he was so fallibly human in other ways—so charming, so flawed. Naïve, adorable. These were not the traits of a fire-breather.

  “So we’re fighting an ideology?” she asked.

  “More or less. It’s an old story, Lilliana: Good versus Evil. It goes back to the beginning of time. As does our kind.”

  “I must admit that I’m curious about you, Merriman. They say that you’re…forgive me…very old.”

  “I am,” he said, letting out a quiet, bitter laugh. “It’s not a dirty word, that. It’s a fact. You’d be hard-pressed to find one older than me. But I have some miles left in me yet.” He raised a bushy eyebrow as he uttered the last few words.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean that,” said Lily, a hand still on Conor, whose state hadn’t altered. She took this as good news, if there was good news to be had. “I meant that you’ve had experience. And I have to tell you that I’ve wondered more than once what your déor—your other form—is.”

  The briefest of smiles took up residence on Merriman’s face. “My other form, yes. I suspect that you’ll see it soon enough,” he said. “And not for the best of reasons. It too is old, but more powerful than the frail body before you. Our déors—and yes, of course I know that word—remain young far longer than our humans do. An odd contrast to humans and animals, don’t you think? Most animals live for only brief lifespans. And here I am after many, many centuries.”

  “Did you…that is, did you have mates?”

  “Many. But only one was the love of my life. The first of them.”

  36

  Dragon Flight, Chapter Three

  “Who was she?”

  Lily was now making a deliberate effort to distract her mind from the ailments of the man who lay before her.

  She willed Conor to improve, to breathe normally, to come to. And she knew that her own worrying would do him no good, and so a story from Merriman’s past seemed a decent compromise; words from that era could perhaps help her to draw out the future. With each breath that Conor took there was hope, and hope was the one thing she wished to hang onto now.

  Merriman seemed to understand. Under normal circumstances, of course, a young woman would never ask such questions. But he knew her mind, and all that she was going through during those painful hours.

  He had suffered loss more than once over the course of his long life, and he knew the excruciating pain of it as well as anyone who’d ever lived.

  Love itself hurt. It could sear like a blade slicing through flesh even before a first kiss had ever occurred. But losing a lover, a mate to whom one was bonded in flesh—that was pure cruelty on the part of fate.

  And so he knew what it was that Lilliana feared. To lose this man would mean a life of regret for every thing she’d never had a chance to say during their brief time together, every flower they’d never seen together, every child who had not been born. Every minute that she had not had him next to her as a comfort, a guardian, a lover. It was like death, only worse, because she would have to keep on.

  But if Conor survived, she would have a chance at the sort of happiness that no human ever understood—that comes with the bond between their kind. There were no words for it, this joy. The closest that Merriman could ever think of was “completion.” He had once felt complete, and he knew that joy as well. Life could be perfect, if only for brief moments over the course of its many years. Perfect, beautiful, but with a pain that came with the knowledge that it might one day come to an end.

  “When I was young,” he began, his voice settling into an intimate depth, “Now, we’re talking about a very long time ago, long before you were born into your era, Lilliana,” he smiled slightly. “I met a young woman. In those days, the world was much as it is now. Shifters were a terror, a legend used to frighten small children. And so it was difficult for us to find one another, you see.”

  “You were excluded from society?”

  “Excluded. Ostracized, banished, driven out, whichever words you like. Yes. If anyone discovered us, we were cast away like lepers. So most of us kept our skills hidden. But of course, a shifter has difficulty concealing his nature at the best of times. And, as you know, when you meet the person—or people—you’re meant to be with, it’s as though a bolt of lightning smashes through your chest and penetrates you. Not so much through the heart as the stomach, mind you—the heart comes into it later.”

  Lily nodded, recalling the first time she’d seen Conor, and the first time she’d set eyes on Graeme. Each different, but each causing an explosion of some sort within her.

  “And you met someone who did that to you…” said Lily.

  “I did.” Merriman’s smile seemed filled with melancholy. “I loved her more than myself,” he said. “Believe it or not, I think it happened the moment I set eyes on her. If there is such a thing as love at first sight, there it was, defined for all time.”

  “Did you have children?”

  “Yes. We two, and another mate. A male, of course. He was a good man. I’ve always held that shifters are better evolved than humans, that we provide two men for one woman. Humans have it all backwards.”

  Lily managed a smile of her own just then. But a moment later it faded, as Conor seemed to gasp for air.

  She held onto his hand more strongly, and for a moment thought that he squeezed back. He seemed to settle a little, and Lily told herself that she had only imagined his brief response. Hope was messing with her mind.

  “What happened to the other man?” she asked, still trying to keep her worry at bay, to pretend that all was well and normal.

  “He is still alive, ancient like me,” said Merriman. “But he loved her too, you see. And when we lost her he lost his will to live as a shifter. Where I continued, bred, did my duty, he did not. He could not, and I don’t blame him for it.”

  “I understand.” The weakness that seemed to overcome her in waves: that was what he meant. It could cripple a shifter who lost a mate. If Conor died, she too might become a walking ghost.

  She shuddered for a moment and then squeezed Conor’s hand once more, hoping to transfer her remaining strength to him.

  * * *

  “Where are Graeme and the doctor?” she asked after a time, her patience fading alongside her energy.

  “They will be here soon, Lilliana. I feel it,” said Merriman.

  “What else do you feel?” she asked, terrified by the question. Whatever answer he provided would not help, she knew: he could tell her that all would be well, but she’d worry about false hope. Or he could tell her the worst, and she would collapse in a heap.

  “I feel that the world is meant to progress a certain way,” he said. “And it will, as it has always done. Life can be cruel, Lilliana. But it can also be the most beautiful thing imaginable. Be strong. You would be impressed by the power of affection.”

  She had seen it all her life, in her parents’ relationship. Through conflict and joy, they had supported one another in astounding ways. The abundance of love in their family had been something that she and her twin, Rohan, had never taken for granted. But now, for the first time, she was beginning to understand what it might feel like to have a loved one ripped away.

  A vast shadow passed over the floor just then, blocking out the dim light that made its way into the room from beyond the clouds which still lingered as though to conceal the house as best they could. Lily stood and ran to the window to see the red dragon landing hard in the back garden. A figure slipped off his back just as Graeme transformed, and the two dashed fo
r the house.

  She waited—she still couldn’t bear to leave Conor’s side—and thirty seconds later, Dr. Evans charged into the room. Lily stood aside then, silently studying his face as he examined Conor quickly.

  “I’ve seen this before,” he said. “Though admittedly only a few times. There is no name for it—but it’s a disease of the blood, when two different sorts are at war within the human body. Right now, the shifter in his genes is fighting the human for supremacy, and winning. But it could use some help. You were right to call on me—he would remain like this until his body gave out.”

  “Is there any hope, Doctor?” asked Lily, for the first time daring to think there might be.

  Dr. Evans smiled. “What a question. Of course, Lilliana. There’s always hope. And short of that, I brought something that will ease his transition.”

  “Oh, thank God,” said Lily, slumping back into a chair, her legs unable to bear the weight of her worry. She felt it, too—that he meant the words. His mind was more open than Merriman’s, and told her that he was simply doing a job and knew the likely end result.

  “Don’t lose your faith in him,” he said. “He’s a strong one. I can tell already, even if Graeme hadn’t told me so. The disease hasn’t advanced beyond its early stages.”

  The doctor was administering some sort of liquid in a syringe and Lily watched, her breath seeming to deepen. She hadn’t registered just how much she’d needed those words of reassurance.

  After a few minutes she stood again, making her way for the first time away from Conor, as confident as she could be that she was leaving him in good hands. She had another mate, after all, and he hadn’t made an appearance. Perhaps he needed her now as much as she needed him.

  It was down in the kitchen that she found him sitting at the table, the clothing that he’d removed that morning half on, not entirely done up. He was far from his usual dignified self.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. “Graeme, I…”

  His eyes didn’t rise to meet hers. Instead, they remained fixed on his hand, which seemed to be playing the table like a piano keyboard in quick, nervous strokes. Slowly he turned to study her own eyes, and Lily saw evidence of tears, bringing a reddish hue to the white surrounding the light aqua of his irises.

  “I’m…all right,” he said. “I suppose. As all right as I can be. Something’s happened, Lily.” His lovely Scottish accent caused his Rs to roll in a way that she’d grown to love, but the words were coloured by sadness and pain. Lily felt that she was looking upon a wounded fawn instead of a powerful dragon.

  “What?” she sat down across from him and took his agitated hand. “What is it? You can tell me.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve just never felt like this. As I flew to get the doctor and back again, I became more and more worried, agitated. As though a part of me were dying. I felt…loss. Beyond loss. It was so grey, so foreboding.”

  “You feel it too,” she said. “You feel the bond with Conor.”

  “So you know what I’m talking about?” Graeme’s shoulders seemed then to descend, as though the tension in his body had held them in a tightly elevated position.

  “Yes. I do. I’ve felt it all day—as though I will die if he does. As though he’s now a part of my skin, my organs.”

  “Yes. That’s exactly it. It…terrifies me. I’ve never once in my life felt vulnerable. Never. What has happened?” His voice, so deep and strong, reminded her of a small child, terrified at one of life’s awful moments of disillusionment.

  Lily squeezed his hand and he held hers in turn, their warmth mingling.

  “Your humanity is growing just as Conor’s déor is doing,” she said. “You are learning what it is to be connected with others.”

  “Well, it’s bloody awful,” he said, smiling at last. “I’m not at all pleased with this whole ‘love’ affair.”

  “You’re stuck with it now.”

  “I am happy, I suppose, over all the rest of it. Isn’t there an expression: ‘It is better to have loved and lost…’?”

  “Yes, something like that,” said Lily, “Though had anyone said those words to me an hour ago I would have ripped their face clean off.”

  “You beast.”

  “Come—let’s go see how our Conor is.”

  37

  Dragon Flight, Chapter Four

  The bedroom was still and silent when they arrived, a grim weight in the air between its light walls.

  Conor lay flat on his back. His eyes had closed and his chest had stopped its gruesome heaving. Was he moving at all? There was no sign of life, no movement, and when Lily searched for his thoughts, she found nothing.

  Her heart surged, her stomach overtaken with a sudden nausea as she thought the worst. Surely he wasn’t…

  She took a large step forward, a sound emerging from her that wasn’t any word in the English language, before the doctor held up his hand to stop her.

  “It’s all right, Lily,” he said, recognizing her panic. “I gave him a tranquilizer. He’s more or less asleep now. I’m sorry if you were frightened.”

  A hand was on her back now, grasping at her clothing as Graeme calmed his own frayed nerves. He’d felt the same shock for an instant, she knew. The feeling of cascading downward into a bottomless pit—if only for a moment—had been horrifying.

  “Will he be all right, Doctor?” he asked.

  “Only time will tell. I know it’s not the kindest answer, or the one that you’d like best. But it’s the truth. He’s not out of the woods yet, I must tell you—his fever needs to break. That is the real threat. However, he’s stable and his temperature seems already to have dipped. I will stay with him and you in the meantime, until he’s properly on the mend.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Evans,” Lily all but sobbed. “You don’t know what you’ve…” her voice caught in her throat as a desire for relief met sorrow.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “I would do anything for your kin, Lily. And he is now exactly that. You are a family, and Conor knows it. It’s what’s kept him going.”

  She knew that he spoke the truth, and that he understood the meaning of kinship among shifters. He was, after all, the partner of her Nana, who had no doubt sent him off with a blessing.

  “Freya—I mean, your grandmother, says hello, by the way,” he added as though knowing her mind. “And sends a message not to worry. She said to tell you that you dragon ladies are strong—particularly those with phoenix blood. And, she pointed out, so are your mates.” With that, he glanced at Graeme.

  Lily let out a laugh then; her first genuine one of a day which felt like it had lasted for years. There was no one stronger than Nana, after all, so she would know whereof she spoke. Besides which, she’d no doubt laid eyes on Graeme when he’d gone to fetch the doctor, and approved whole-heartedly of the match. There was nothing in the tall, broad, handsome man not to like, after all: he was as close to perfection as Conor was, and growing better each day.

  And Lily’s Nana had chosen for her permanent mate a human man—only one. She had rejected the life of a shifter, and was all the happier for it. Her years with the cruel Lord Drake had made it an easy choice.

  Freya had never spoken of a third mate; another male shifter in the relationship that had spawned her mother, Gwynne. But Lily could only assume that Drake had made quick work of him, taking his life or simply driving him off. Drake was not a man who was happy to share power, and killing a mate wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

  Lily found herself happy that her mother didn’t know more of the tale of her parents than she did. The entire story had been one polluted with cruelty, heartbreak and horrors. But somehow the women of their family had come out strong and powerful, able to find their way to love, comfort and peace.

  It was the sort of dragon’s ambition in her grandfather that Lily sometimes feared might overtake Graeme, though he had seemed to become more human, and not less, in the hours since the Ritual. This was a sign that his i
nstincts were being redirected in the best possible way.

  “Come, Lilliana, Ramsey.” It was Merriman’s voice. She turned her head to see his tall form standing in the doorway, Barnabas perched on his arm. “Let’s go downstairs and get you something to eat. Conor is not the only one who needs to keep up his strength.”

  Lily and Graeme joined the man in the kitchen, where the owl who was either his pet or his friend—they still didn’t entirely know—now stood perched atop a high cabinet.

  “Has Barnabas been with you for a long time?” asked Graeme.

  “You might say that. We go way back, and there is no one more loyal.”

  “You hinted that that he was a shifter,” Lily said. “Yet he seems to remain in owl form.” He reminded her of Asta, the sleek woman they’d met in London, who seemed more comfortable in her cat skin than human.

  As Merriman rifled around in the fridge for meat, bread and cheese that he’d left a day earlier, he replied. “It’s possible that he’s forgotten how to shift. But I can’t ask him, since he’s a permanent owl. Clever trick, that.”

  “I suppose of all the déors, it’s one of the least threatening. A dragon wandering around High Street would get a lot of looks, and likely a few armour-piercing bullets,” said Lily. “He’s chosen wisely. Human life seems pretty fraught with complexity.”

  “And yet it’s filled with such an array of beautiful things,” said Merriman, “That we who shapeshift can appreciate all the more for their preciousness.”

  “I suppose. I am grateful for emotion, even though at the moment it’s doing me in on the inside.” The hybrid dragon-phoenix inside her would have been an easier body to inhabit, as it could have numbed itself to the agony of her wait and the pain of her concern for Conor.

  But she wanted to feel, even if the only feeling was pain. If Conor didn’t survive, she wanted to know, to remember how she’d cared about him, and the depth of her emotion. It was not a thing which should be denied, but embraced. Because it was the greatest thing in the universe.