by Leela Ash
She wished he’d settle on one thing or the other. Clueless jerk or compassionate man. Bouncing between the two was killing her. Her heart ached all the time.
“I thought there’d be a maid and a cook, at least. Maybe a groundskeeper too.”
“I can cook and clean.” Caring for the house’s expansive lawn and trees might be a bit much, but she’d find someone if necessary.
Owen didn’t like her suggestion much. “That’s not right. You’re the nanny. You shouldn’t have to clean and cook. Your job is to… to nan.”
Jokes like that were why she found it so hard to think of him as ‘Mr. Jackson.’ “I can do all three.”
“Really? And still watch the children?”
Quickly, she covered her mouth, trying to hide a grin. “Yes. Most parents do manage to feed and watch their children. And still clean.”
“Huh.” The sparkle in his eye showed that he saw how silly he was being. “Hadn’t thought of that. I guess the world would be in trouble if people could only do one of those things.”
She did laugh then, and he joined her.
Why couldn’t every day be like this? He can be so gentle, so kind…
When he remembers that other people exist.
Time, she reminded herself. Time healed all wounds. Time would bring his family together.
The doorbell interrupted them.
Who could that be? The children were all on the back lawn, clearly visible. Puzzled, Ariel opened the door.
The woman standing on the doorstep could have walked straight out of Vogue magazine. Tall, leggy, with a Size 0 waist and the elegant face of an Arctic fox. Golden earrings dripping with diamonds and rubies sparkled in the waves of her raven-black hair. Her long white dress, woven of gossamer and silk, was some impossible designer dream that no one wore outside of a catwalk. A fox-fur stole curled around her shoulders.
The stranger smiled, her lipstick blood red. “I’m here to see Mr. Owen Jackson.”
Just standing next to this vision made Ariel feel like a dumpling, and she fought a strong urge to fold her arms across her chest. Still, she forced herself to smile back. “Of course. Do come in. May I tell Mr. Jackson who’s calling?”
“Clarissa Lange.” The woman stepped inside, shrugged her stole off, and held it out negligently to Ariel. Like she was a coat hanger, not a human being. Gulping back her shame, she accepted it.
Owen stepped into the living room doorway, drawn by their voices. The newcomer’s eyes widened. Ariel did not like the hungry, predatory glint that lit them as the woman eyed her employer up and down. “You must be Mr. Jackson.”
“Owen, please.”
Ariel didn’t approve. He should have stuck with ‘Mr. Jackson.’ But no one asked her as she carried Clarissa’s wrap to the closet.
“Owen, then,” the woman purred. She held out her hand like some princess or 50’s movie starlet.
Owen, ever gallant, promptly planted a kiss on it. Clarissa simpered. Ariel gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to dump the stole on the closet floor.
“Mr. Jackson?” She would remain formal, even if this other woman presumed. “This is Ms. Clarissa Lange.”
“The Queen of the local Warren,” Clarissa explained. “Mr. Lorde told me to expect you.”
“Oh, right!”
She and Owen exchanged a few pleasantries as they drifted into the living room, with its grand mountain vista. Ariel drifted along behind them, forgotten.
Well, not entirely forgotten. As the Witch Hare sank gracefully to the sofa, she tossed Ariel a cool smile. “I’ll have a glass of cabernet sauvignon.”
Ariel bristled. Waiting on her family was one thing. Waiting on some arrogant stranger was quite another!
As if he sensed her outrage, Owen answered quickly. “I’m afraid we don’t have any wines at all. We’ve only just arrived.”
“Oh bother.” The Hare’s nose wrinkled. “I apologize if I’ve come too soon. I’m just so curious why we have such an illustrious guest.”
Could she be any more of a boot-licker? Ariel felt a towering annoyance growing inside her. But, of course, Owen gobbled the false admiration up like a kid with an ice cream cone.
“My Alpha has sent me to aid your Warren in any way I can.”
Clarissa’s gaze flickered to Ariel then back to Owen. “Is there someplace we can speak privately? Without the servants?”
Now it wasn’t even safe to talk around her? She turned away so that neither Shifter would see the indignation that lit her eyes. As calmly as she could manage, she said, “We haven’t gotten the office set up yet, but I can go outside.”
To her shock, Owen stood up for her. “There’s no need. Ariel is Kin. You can talk freely in front of her without giving away any Shifter secrets.”
“You’re sure she’s trustworthy? One can’t be too careful these days, what with the Fangs of Apophis so active.”
“I trust her with my children,” he replied, in a tone that wouldn’t be contradicted. “Trusting her with my affairs is much less important.”
Ariel wasn’t sure he truly believed that (he often seemed to think that children took care of themselves naturally). Still, his defense warmed her heart and silenced the nasty Hare.
“As you will.”
Owen Jackson, Ariel thought, could be a damned charming man when he put his mind to it.
She had half a notion to hover around in the doorway just to make the elegant woman uncomfortable. But that would be rude, and downright unprofessional. She also had work to do, like figuring out what dishes they had and what they needed. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you want anything, sir.”
“Thanks, Ariel.”
When she retreated, however, she left the door open. So she could hear any requests, she told herself. Definitely not so that she could listen in on that Hare. She didn’t trust Ms. Clarissa Lange one bit.
Most of the talk was a bit dull. Details on the Warren and its magical research – most of which flew over her head. Bears didn’t work magic and she’d never known any Hares. Tons of compliments and flirting from Clarissa. Some of it so blatant and over-the-top that Ariel longed to fling a pot at her.
For the most part, Owen ignored it. Oh, he was flattered. Any man would be to have a beautiful, cultured woman fawn on him. Yet, there was a hint of reserve, of reticence, in his voice.
Maybe it was because Clarissa pumped him for information almost as blatantly as she flirted. What were his Flight’s plans? Had Lorde gathered them all?
He shrugged most of it off, offering short, truthful, and uninformative answers. Yes, the Flight had been summoned. He didn’t know what their plans were. All he knew was his own mission.
“To help us.” Clarissa wrinkled her delicate nose. “I still can’t imagine why we’re so blessed. It’s hardly like we’re the only Warren around.”
“My Alpha hopes you can give me some assistance.”
“We’d be delighted, of course! How can we help?”
Owen squirmed and glanced up at the kitchen. His eyes locked with Ariel’s. She turned away quickly, embarrassed to be caught listening. Not before she saw him wince and look away.
As if he was embarrassed.
What on earth could he think he’d done wrong? The fact that she wasn’t good enough for his Dragon… well, that blame fell on her, not him.
“Are any of the Hares in town good with divination?”
“Passable, yes.” Clarissa shrugged. “It’s a difficult skill, however, and witches often specialize. What do you want to know?”
“Where to find a Mate.”
Owen was so busy staring a hole into the floor that he didn’t notice how those words hit his guest.
Ariel did. Shock and greed flared in the Hare’s eyes before her polite mask dropped back into place. “So, the rumors are true. One of the Wellsprings has returned to life.”
Why, oh why did Owen have to blurt that out! Ariel clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp.
H
e didn’t even recognize his mistake. “Why would you say that?”
“The Dragons’ Rite of Claiming is nearly mythic. Every Shifter has grown up with stories about it. And every one of us knows that the Rite vanished when the Wellsprings died.”
“Oh.” Owen winced.
“Can you tell me where it is? How healthy it seems?”
“No.” He shook his head – never realizing that, once again, he confirmed that a living Wellspring existed.
“I understand completely,” Clarissa assured him. “And I would be delighted to introduce you to all the young Hares in my Warren. Any one of them would be honored to be Claimed.”
“Thanks.” Stiff and unmoving, he didn’t seem pleased by that prospect. A fact that lightened Ariel’s mood.
But only for a moment, because the Hare continued. “You’re also in luck. ‘To Find True Love’ is one of the oldest, most traditional spells we know. I should be able to help you, if no one in my Warren suits.”
Unable to bear the pendulum swings of her heart, Ariel drifted to the back of the kitchen and slipped outside through the side door.
Why did this hurt so much? Real though it felt, the dream they shared was nothing. Not the Rite of Claiming. Not a pledge of true love. It was a pleasant dalliance, nothing more.
She wasn’t Owen’s Mate.
She had to accept that, and move on.
And she had to allow him to move on too, because his Alpha was right: Owen needed to be whole. He needed, and deserved, true love.
Even if that love wasn’t her.
Her petty jealousy didn’t help either of them. Yet, jealousy’s sting was less painful than the alternative.
Grief. For her shattered dream. For her lost hope. For a bright future that was tarnished so soon after it began.
Ariel sat down on the kitchen steps as the first tear fell.
Chapter 7
As the cool days of May slipped past and June’s berry-filled heat arrived, Owen found the town of Adeline growing on him.
The people were friendly and welcoming, a nice mix of wealthy summer people and down to earth loggers and farmers who stayed year round. Despite its tiny size, it boasted one ‘fancy’ restaurant, a little French place that only seated eight customers. The food was far below the level of Los Angeles or New York City. Yet, the chef knew him now and treated him like family whenever he ate there. That hospitality, that familiarity, gave dinners out a savor he’d never found in any Michelin rated meal.
He ate there a lot. Three times a week.
With a different woman each time…
True to his mission, he took each member of the Adeline Warren on a date. Every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night, he escorted a different Witch Hare to “Chez Moi.” Every night after dinner, he took them home – and never gave them a second thought.
The chef laughed and called him a ‘player’. His wife, the sole waitress, gave him stink eye. Honestly, though, it was...
Dull.
The same small talk, night after night after night.
Oh, the girls were fine. Every one of them was pretty and polite. A couple of them were seriously into this magic stuff and prattled endless about the Warren’s work. Which was about as much fun as listening to a nuclear physicist drone on about atomic structure for two hours. Most, however, tried to hold actual conversations. Still, he had little in common with them.
His Dragon maintained a stony silence throughout all of his dates. Some days, Owen wondered if his Shifter soul had fallen asleep or died of boredom.
Outside the dinners, he didn’t have a lot of work. Visit the Warren… listen to updates on the area’s ‘chi’ and ‘mana’ and ‘Feng Shui’… understand none of that… smile politely. Rinse and repeat, day in and day out. Fortunately, that stuff only took a couple hours. Then he headed home.
When they arrived, ‘heading home’ just meant ‘go back to the house and be bored there instead of being bored at the Warren.’ But after only one day of that, Ariel lent a hand. She suggested chores. Help the boys build a bug terrarium. Take the boys swimming while she and Sydnee went to Mt. Shasta to get a ‘mani-pedi’ (whatever the hell that was…).
To his shock, the kids turned out to be… fun.
They noticed things he never saw. Lightning bugs and spiders. A pile of branches a boy could crawl under and make a fort out of. A tree that absolutely, positively, had to be climbed. Sydnee remained aloof and confusing, but Trey and Brody barreled into the world each morning brimming with excitement. Owen found he loved that, loved joining in their adventures.
One afternoon, as he drove up the driveway, they scrambled out to meet him. There was a ‘gigantous’ frog in the pond! He had to see it, now! The boys dragged him out there, one tugging on each hand. No rest until they’d shared this wonder with him.
With him.
They wanted him to be part of their little lives.
On that day, Owen felt the first stirrings of something. Some deep, gentle emotion he’d never felt.
Trey and Brody weren’t just children; weak, tiny creatures that needed protection. They were his children. He found himself thinking of them – Ariel, Sydnee, the boys – throughout the day. Looking forward to his time with them. Feeling delight when they shared their own lives with him.
Was this love? Was this why his Alpha had sent him here?
If so… He hated to admit it, but Lorde was right.
He could feel the effect on his Dragon. For years, it had slumbered, rousing only when he called upon it in battle. As soon as their foes were vanquished, however, it slipped back into torpor. Honestly, most days, he felt more like a man than a Dragon.
Maybe Lorde was right. Maybe that was a bad, bad thing…
Well, his Dragon was awake now!
Owen treaded water in the deep end of the pool as Trey and Brody fought to achieve the biggest cannonball ‘ever’. There wasn’t an enemy for miles – and yet, he could feel his Dragon. Ready. Watchful. It noticed when the boys ran too quickly or rough-housed on the cement walk. It always knew where Sydnee lay, sunning and sadly reading her phone. Nothing was wrong. Yet, he knew that, if a crisis arose, that great serpent would not be caught unawares.
It watched. It protected.
And, for the first time in years, Owen felt alive.
He felt like a Dragon.
Movement over by the house caught his eye. Ariel emerged carrying a pitcher of a pale, pinkish liquid. ‘Agua fresca’ she called it. Water and sweet berries – the nectar that she had successfully used to wean the kids off soda.
Her hair, freed now, fell to her shoulders. Under the summer sun it burned gold, a glorious crown that refused to be ignored. And her shopping trips with Sydnee had done wonders for her. Turned out, his daughter had much better taste than his butler. Ariel didn’t wear fancy clothes often; that wasn’t her style. But with Sydnee’s encouragement, she’d transformed. Gone were the lumpy sweaters and baggy jeans that George dumped on her. Now, her slacks flattered her long, shapely legs instead of hiding them. Her flowing peasant blouse fluttered in the wind, pulling tight against the curves of her breast.
Ahem. He’d better stop looking at her like that or he’d have to wrap a blanket around his waist.
Ariel set the drinks down on a table. Would miracles never cease? Sydnee put down her cell phone (voluntarily!) and scrambled over to help her. And she smiled. Smiled!
Owen found himself grinning foolishly. This was heaven. The five of them, together. Just like a family.
A poor choice of words. As soon as he thought it, his joy faded.
Because they weren’t a family. They were a Dragon, his children, and the nanny. His Dragon’s total silence confirmed his worst fears: no matter how deliriously hot their shared dream might be, it wasn’t the Rite of Claiming.
“Snack time!”
The boys cheered and power-walked (no running near the pool!) to get their drinks. Owen swam to the edge and pulled himself out.
Surrounded by hi
s children, Ariel glowed with joy. She was what made this family. She was the one who found ways to involve him in the boys’ games in those early days. It was she who lured Sydnee into the kitchen and got the girl to tell her about the food her grandfather had made for the kids. Together, the two of them recreated those simple, hearty meals. Bringing a touch of home and happiness back into dinner.
Ariel was the soul of this family. The joy that brought it to life.
Yet, she was also the dagger in his heart.
He needed a Mate. And it wouldn’t be her.
Irritably, Owen whipped a towel around himself. Say something! he ordered his Dragon. Speak up! If you Claim her, everything will be perfect. I’ll complete my mission, I’ll have a family. All it takes is one word from you.
His Shifter soul didn’t deign to respond. It scanned the skies, the woods, alert for danger.
It ignored all his pleas, no matter how desperate.
Ariel held out a glass to him as he walked over. Did her eyes linger on his bare chest? Her fingers brushed his as she passed him his drink. Did they stay, touching, for one tender moment?
God, he was cruel. Owen winced and turned away.
He had raised her hopes to the sky – and then shattered them. Now, she lived here. Close to him, yet never touching. Caring for his children, yet never their mother. Forced to watch while he spent his days searching for the woman to replace her.
Those words hurt. They dripped venom into his heart.
But they were true.
If he found a Mate, Ariel would need to leave.
No woman would tolerate his nanny in her home. The children adored her. And he… he felt something for her. There was an energy between them, a desire that threatened to break free every time he saw her.
No woman would accept a rival in her own home. When he Claimed a Mate, he would have to send Ariel away.
Or you could Claim her already! he snapped at his Dragon.
It stirred, annoyed by his persistence. A deep bass growl, more thunder than voice, rumbled in his head.
Do you love her?
Well, sure. Probably. Not that he had any experience in that, of course. Even if it wasn’t love, it was a damned intense emotion. A yearning like nothing he’d ever felt.
