“Yule isn’t for another three months,” I laughed.
“It’s not a Yule present. You’re my witch and I’m your harpy. I finally lost enough feathers to make these and there is no one else I trust with them.”
She disappeared into the shadows behind the closet door and came out a few seconds later holding a pair of red feathered fans. My heart skipped a beat. New harpy fans hadn’t been made in over a century. They were useless unless you had ties to the harpy and knew their name. Harpies and Gilmore witches often bonded for life. Not in the way mates do, but a deep connection, nonetheless. It was an exchange of magic and loyalty. Zera and I had been friends since the first time I climbed into the attic when I heard someone singing about battle and blood lust.
“Here,” she held them out to me, “go on. Try them out.”
“Thanks, Zera.” I gave her a quick hug before stepping away.
Harpies weren’t touchy feely like wolves, but they put up with it if they were in a good mood.
I stepped back from her and scooted a few boxes out of the way. Then I held a fan in either hand and whispered her name backwards.
“Arez. Arez. Arez,” I chanted her name backwards until the red feathers of the fan ruffled and my arms drifted upwards pulled by their magic. Soon my feet hovered inches off the floor. I crossed my arms and landed gently where I stood seconds before.
“With some practice you’ll be flying in no time!” She grinned flashing her long pointy teeth.
“Thanks, Zera.”
“Don’t worry about your trip. You’ll be fine. If I’m wrong and Montero tries something you don’t like just call me. I’ll make him sorry he ever crossed paths with a Gilmore.”
“Grandma seemed to be good friends with him.”
“She was. Hey, is Gloria home?” Zera asked.
Zera and Gloria had never gotten along. When we were ten Zera announced she was my sister and Gloria wanted nothing to do with the fake sibling adoption. She tried to explain very calmly to Zera that she wasn’t my sister. That blood determined family status. Zera said she was whoever and whatever she wanted to be. Their relationship never recovered from the blow. Now, Zera avoided Gloria when she could. As much as it flattered me to have them bicker over who was the better sister, I wished they’d just get along so we could all hang out together.
“She’s on the plane with the clients making sure everyone arrives safely.”
“Good. Can we go down for some of that pumpkin spice coffee? I mean, you bought it, didn’t you?”
“We always have pumpkin spice coffee in the fall.” I looped my arm through hers.
Chapter Six
Luc
In the weeks following the red envelope Montero Manor breathed with new life. I called in landscapers, gardeners, and other professionals to ensure the house and grounds were in working order for the arrival of Rosa Gilmore’s grandson. I carried Aidan’s photo in my wallet. If we were supposed to play mates for the holidays it was a good place to start.
The manor was empty without Barric’s constant rambling. I missed the talkative apprentice and not just for the work he did around the house. Instructing the next generation of magical minds was a longstanding Montero tradition.
“Barric makes the house feel less empty,” my wolf said.
The trees wore their orange, red, and yellow leaves. I studied their colorful dance as I considered what he said. For centuries I took for granite the fact I’d undoubtedly live long enough to meet my true-mate. It was both the curse and the blessing of the Montero line. Even if Aiden wasn’t the omega my blood woke me up for, I’d meet him soon without a doubt.
He does. Tomorrow Aidan arrives. If he’s anything like his grandmother his personality will fill the whole house. Besides, even an apprentice has the right to spend the holidays with his family.
“What happens if our mated omega shows up while Aidan is here? Will they fine us for ruining his holidays?” My wolf pondered.
Doubt it. The Gilmores are practical witches. Fate cannot be escaped only embraced.
Neither of us discussed what Aidan might change in our lives. If he was our fated omega everything would change overnight. Life would have more color if the stories were to be believed.
“Run?” My wolf looked around the piles of leaves marking the courtyard.
Run!
He charged my ribs and I surrendered my fleshy human body in exchange for his furry form. We ran through the piles of leaves kicking up crunchy autumn rainbows in our wake. Magic twisted through all four furry legs clinking against the ground as I rubbed against the energy of the earth. If Aidan Gilmore was our mate it was time for angels to return to Earth from the Other World.
“Harpies!” My wolf howled.
Most humans spent their lives calling harpies angels. They assigned them to various spiritual mythologies. They were either the winged saviors or the winged beasts of revenge. Humans loved the word angel. I didn’t think it did them justice. The Gilmores and Monteros both descended from harpy tribes. Eventually, human hunters drove them into the Other World to seek solace alongside the elves, fairies, and otherkin who hid between realms.
“How did that prophecy go?” My wolf asked me.
We were one mind, body, and spirit, but we had our own separate interests. He remembered the winding labyrinth of hedges and lent me the information when I needed it. I remembered spells, prophecies, and how to make a varied mix of alcoholic drinks to soothe his rough edges when they showed. We were two, merged as one, but we also worked as symbiotic spirits inhabiting a single shifting body.
Two ancient tribes failed to breach their divide,
Feathers flustered and humans denied,
Wings and wind shifted, now we must hide.
Not forever, but for yet.
Wingless witches and casting magi,
All watching, upwards turn thine eye.
Leaves fall like feathers when fates collide.
Fierce ancestors watching from the other side
Give thy blessing where gilded wings do glide.
Montero and Gilmore Covens ease the divide.
True-mates their hearts cannot hide.
An oath sworn, a babe born
Harpies return when Yule fires burn.
After I told him the prophecy my wolf fell quiet. I lost myself to his mind and we were finally one. We raced through the leaves sniffing and snorting. Dust, grass, and leaf fragments flew in our wake. Maybe I’d be the one half of the pair who brought our people back to Earth. Maybe I wouldn’t. Worrying’s paying interest on trouble that’s yet to happen. Fate didn’t turn aside for anyone.
“I smell snow!” My wolf howled.
Chapter Seven
Aidan
“I smell snow,” my wolf whispered.
I blinked away the sleep from my thoughts and gave the air a halfhearted sniff. He was right! Snow was on the way. It was early this year. Though the weather changed whenever it wanted. Climate change still affected huge parts of the world even though the human governments weren’t around anymore. I didn’t like random non-magical storms, but snow smelled like Yule.
Zera was still asleep on the sofa when I padded through the house to turn the coffee pot on. Her red wings were tucked tight around her hiding her face and keeping her torso warm. I dropped the knitted blanket from the back of the sofa over her anyway. She didn’t stir.
Gloria wouldn’t be home until later tonight. We said our goodbyes before she left to escort our clients yesterday. She offered to meet me at Montero Manor, but I declined the offer. She was looking forward to having the house to herself for a while and I didn’t blame her. Mated for the Holidays took up a huge part of our lives. The business funded our lifestyle and brought happiness into an ever-uncertain world but gobbled up our social lives in the process.
A peek out the kitchen window showed me the frost covered ground. I cracked it a bit and stuck my fingers outside. The air was thick and wet.
Just right for sno
w.
Snow was a good omen for me. It always had been. All my best memories happened on snowy days. I launched Mated for Life during a blizzard and brought in twenty-six clients that year. For a seventeen-year-old’s first job it wasn’t a bad paycheck even after I covered expenses and gave Gloria her cut. I was born during a blizzard too. Zera and I met on the first snow of the season. Everything good always begins when it snows.
“I bet we have our first pup during a snowstorm,” my wolf yawned.
A hot blush washed over my face as I poured a cup of coffee. We talked about pups a lot, but today the topic flustered me. I grabbed my phone and doublechecked my heat shot was up to date. It was.
Should I get another one? Is that something you can double up on?
“I don’t think so. One’s supposed to be enough. Besides, you don’t smell like heat. You smell like excitement and an adventure waiting to unfold.”
After breakfast Zera waved goodbye from the driveway as I backed into the road. She could’ve accompanied me. Harpies had free reign this time of year but going outside of the Gilmore house meant dangers. Harpies hadn’t traveled alone without powerful witches and mages in many years. Humans once hunted my ancestors. When the harpies left to the Other World packs, flights, and tribes of all sorts kicked out anyone suspected of having harpy blood. The Gilmores took a lot of them in. Their blood entwined with ours. Overtime more outcasts came to us with and without the other worldly blood. We were born of outcasts, but now we were the powers that be.
I cranked up the heater as I turned onto the highway. Yule music already played on the radio. They had a live recording of one of the local elementary schools singing a very old classic called “Jingle Bells.” I always loved the song and sang along whenever played on the radio.
Leaves swirled through the air as the autumn branches shed their clothes in exchange for their bare bodies. Other cars passed on the way to destinations unknown, but all I could think about was Luc Montero and the first snow on its way. I kept my eyes on the road searching carefully for the first fluffy white flake to fall.
“Come on. Come on,” I begged Mother Nature.
My stomach was a tangle of nerves and bile rose in my mouth. Was this how clients felt on the way to meet their holiday mates? I was a dick for all the times I told them to relax and have fun. The trip had too many open-ended questions.
What if Luc Montero wasn’t as great as Grandma thought? What if we didn’t get along? What if he had nose hair sticking out of his nostrils and I can’t resist the urge to pluck them right out? Or out of his ears?
“He’s not a savage!” My wolf interrupted my thoughts.
How do we know that?
“There was no unsightly body hair to be found in his photo,” he reminded me.
I turned the radio up to blast away my thoughts. Minutes rolled by unnoticed lost to music and the yellow lines of the highway. Forty-eight minutes was a short drive. Too short of a drive once I took the exit ramp to Wolford.
For better or worse this is what the algorithm said we wanted.
“You need to trust your own work,” my wolf said.
He sat up inside my chest for a better look as we turned on Montero Drive where Luc lived. His family owned the house since before the human’s civil war. For centuries it was cloaked and magic and hidden. Eventually, the Monteros, like most magical families came out of hiding. When things turned south humans wanted magical fixes for their problems.
Montero Manor set at the end of a long winding driveway. Colorful leaves lay scattered over a well-kept lawn that hadn’t yellowed under the frost. They crunched under the spinning tires and danced in the breeze. Luc stood on the porch from his photograph. Today he wore his best mage robes. The deep crimson brought out the blue in his eyes somehow. The top of the ceremonial robe hung open revealing just a peek of the chiseled muscles underneath. A snowflake fell on the window and obscured my view before melting away against the glass.
I should’ve called ahead to find out the dress code. He’s dressed for a ball and I’m dressed for shopping at the local farmer’s market. A button up flannel and a pair of jeans.
“You packed the good robes,” my wolf reminded me.
That doesn’t help me right now. First impressions are everything.
“Younger witches don’t dress up as much as old fogies do.”
I’ve never seen an old fogie look like that, though.
Luc’s hair was longer than in the photo. It hung around his shoulders, but it suited his status as elder magi. The photo was definitely an older one, but besides his hair not much had changed. Nerves bundled in my stomach unleashing a flurry of butterflies, but I smiled anyway. Luc waved from the porch and I nodded in his direction. I hoped to have a bit of time to explore the grounds and get a feel for things before meeting him, but Luc Montero was prompt.
Another snowflake fell on the windshield as I stopped the car. I let the engine idle for a moment as I gathered my thoughts. It might have idled forever if Luc didn’t walk down the stairs to greet me. Killing the engine, I fought off the urge to check my hair in the mirror and got out of the car instead.
A breeze ruffled my hair carrying Luc’s warm scent with it. He smelled like the wild parts of nature and the deep underbelly of the earth. He smelled like hot chocolate on a warm night and the first festive latte of the season. My heart pounded with each step he took towards me. The hairs on my arms stood up and the grounds of Montero Manor warmed. I needed to close the space between us. Why was he walking so slow? I needed his arms around me and to tell him I wanted to name my first son Edgar after my favorite human writer.
Holy Juda and all his little babies.
I gulped. This was it! My algorithm worked! Only I couldn’t think about that right now, because Luc didn’t look shocked at all. Didn’t he smell me? Didn’t he realize we were true-mates?
Chapter Eight
Luc
With each step I took down the walkway Aidan’s sweet scent grew stronger. He smelled like fresh citrus and old magic. Rosa Gilmore hadn’t lied. In more than one way she delivered my true-mate. Aidan’s fingers shook as he waited for me by the car. I forced my expression neutral as I approached him. He was yet to speak and how one might react to a true-mate response was unpredictable.
His wavy blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail at the nape of his neck allowing the wind to carry his scent easily. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet. I overdressed for the occasion. The flannel and jeans looked good on Aidan’s lean muscular frame. As usual, I was out of date with the current trends of younger mages and witches. Hell, I was behind the times when I was a young mage.
“MINE!” My wolf said for the fourth time since Aidan stepped out of his yellow hatchback.
I pushed him down. His urgency could wait. Nervousness tinged Aidan’s scent. I needed to wipe that away before I allowed my inner beast to introduce himself. Our all but faded harpy blood made him twice as territorial as the average wolf. Though, Aidan might understand that given his family lines.
“The first snow always brings good things,” Aidan spoke.
His words caught me off guard. I stopped and looked at him for a long second. Eventually, he looked up and met my eyes. Excitement and anxiety mingled in his expression. True-mates were an old world tradition, but there wasn’t a class on how to handle things.
“Winters used to be the best time for magic. All the humans hid from the cold and us otherkin had the run of things.”
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! He’s not here for a history lesson.
“In the winter harpies sometimes live in my attic,” Aidan grinned. “I don’t know what to do.”
“About the harpies? Do they cause you trouble?” I asked and stepped closer to him.
“No,” he shook his head. “It’s mostly one harpy in particular. My harpy. I meant about this.” He pointed from himself to me and back to himself. “Us?” His voice raised with the question.
&nbs
p; “MINE!” My wolf howled. “Step closer. He’s going to get cold standing around out here with you!”
“Let’s go inside where it’s warm,” I reached a hand out to him.
He studied it for a long moment before finally taking it. His touch was soft, hesitant, and uncertain. I squeezed his hand and fought the urge to pull him into my arms. Being close to him but not touching more of him hurt something deep inside. My wolf brushed against my ribs hoping for a closer touch of him, but until Aidan and I performed the claiming vow he’d just have to wait.
I reached out through our entwined fingers to feel his magic. It wasn’t something done every day, but those with close ties often felt each other out. Aidan’s was there a faint light inside his chest sleeping and waiting to awaken.
“That tickles,” he looked up at me.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. What about my stuff?” He looked back at his hatchback.
“The servants will bring it in soon. Do you have a familiar inside?” I asked him.
“I always wanted to get a cat, but Gloria is allergic. Can you imagine? A witch who’s allergic to cats?”
“There are many things that have come to pass that I couldn’t have imagined if I tried.”
“Like what?” He stopped and looked up at me.
I raked my eyes over his lean muscular body and met his gaze again.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve had enough coffee. What was the question?”
“I don’t remember,” he laughed. “Something about imaginations or cats. This is mind-bending.”
He tightened his grip on my hand and stepped closer to me. His scent washed over me and my inner beast. The wolf brushed against my ribs pushing his way towards Aidan.
“Maybe if we stand closer it’ll be easier to think. My wolf is going ninety words a second. I can only half keep up with him.”
“Good things. I hope?”
Aidan nodded.
“Does your algorithm always work this well?” I asked remembering what brought us together.
Mated for the Holidays: A Holiday Mpreg Romance in the Hemlock Mpreg Universe Page 3
