Wolves, Witches and Bears...Oh My!

by Nicky Charles

  “He seemed so genuine. Even tonight there were moments when he seemed normal.”

  “When you play a role for so long it becomes easy to flip between the two.”

  “Are you speaking from experience?”

  “Yes,” he sighed. “I am.”

  “Maybe that’s why you never believed him.” She pointed out.

  “Correction,” Dante paused in rummaging through her cupboards to find glasses. “I never met the man until today.”

  “But when he killed Carlotta? That was her name, right?”

  Dante nodded. “Yes, that was her name. And no, I heard his voice, caught his scent, but he was a shadowy figure. I never really saw what he looked like. Ever since then, I’ve always been a step or two behind him.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you finally tracked him down here.”

  Dante handed her a glass of wine and sat down beside her, placing the bottle on the coffee table. “It was luck I ended up here. The creation of the Alliance provided the missing information I needed.” He tasted the wine and nodded in approval. “Cyrus was getting careless, too.”

  “He was getting desperate. The spell he was using extended his life for short periods of time but the strength wasn’t lasting. Camille and I spoke briefly about it before we left.” She stared into her glass. “There’s always a catch to black magic, something that takes more from you than it gives. This particular spell, once used has to continue to be used; there’s no going back. And each time it’s used, the length of time it lasts shortens. Looking back, I think his mind was going. Dark magic is often twisted that way, insidiously affecting those who use it.” She took a drink of her wine and sighed.

  “He was probably hoping for a cumulative effect this last time. Killing multiple shifters at a time in order to get a huge energy surge.”

  She nodded. “It would have made him very powerful for a short period of time.”

  “If I’d been him, my plan would have been to divide the council. Half on your side, half on Camille’s. The infighting would have kept everyone occupied while I would waltz in and take over.”

  “Evil of you.” She slid a look his way.

  “Opportunistic. It’s how I’ve survived all these years.” He gave her a crooked smile and then watched as she finished her wine and poured another glassful. “How do you feel about what happened?”

  “I don’t know.” She stared across the room. “He was my friend. Or at least I thought he was. No matter how many times I’ve had to move and start a new life, he was always there, a constant in my life for so many years. I’ll miss that.” She took a gulp of wine.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” There was a tight feeling in her throat, a stinging in her eyes. “I know you hated him and deservedly so…”

  “But that wasn’t the side of him you knew.”

  “Right.” She sniffed. “He could always make me laugh.” She downed the rest of her wine and then leaned forward to pour more.

  “Drowning your sorrows?” Dante commented mildly.

  “I think I deserve it after today.”

  “I’m not criticizing. Just making a comment.” He finished his own glass and set it on the table.

  “I feel guilty missing him. He was a monster who murdered people. He was willing to pit the entire council against me. I’m glad the man who did that is gone and yet...”

  “I understand. You miss the man you thought he was, not the person he became.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s it.” She leaned against his shoulder.

  Dante took her now empty glass and set it down, then put his arm around her. “It’s okay if you want to cry.”

  “I don’t cry.” She automatically firmed her chin, denying his statement.

  “Then relax against me. You’ve been through a lot today.” He moved so she was resting against his chest, her head tucked under his chin.

  They sat like that for a while, his hand gently stroking her back. Memories of Cyrus swirled through her head, eating the donuts Matt had given her, sharing a drink, his snowy white hair, his soft chuckles and twinkling eyes. Eventually the images morphed into her final memories of him, his face contorted, blood staining his clothes. His body dead on the floor. She shivered.

  “What?” Dante eased back to look at her.

  “I’m thinking of how he died. I don’t know which of us killed him. Was it you or Camille and I? We were working together to counteract his own magic and turn it back on him.”

  “It was me.”

  “Oh.”

  “Does it matter?”

  She considered the question. “No. If it had been me, I’d know I’d done the right thing and yet, I’d have had some regret which is stupid.”

  “I’m glad it was me.” He admitted. “I wish I could have torn him to shreds for what he did. Does that make me a cold bastard?”

  “No. I’d feel the same if I were you.”

  He gave her a hug. She returned the gesture only to notice him wince. Damn, she’d totally forgotten his injuries.

  “I’m sorry. I should have checked your injuries.” She sat up and began to unbutton what remained of his shirt. “I can’t believe I didn’t—”

  He stilled her hands, holding them to his chest. “I’m fine; Lycan metabolism and the remnants of that tea you gave me.”

  “Are you sure? I can get some salve.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind your hands on me but not to apply medication.” He caught her chin, tilting her head so their eyes met. “I could do with some comfort, Gwyneth. It’s been a hard day.”

  She studied his face, seeing the shadows that haunted his eyes, recognizing he was feeling broken, too. “I could do with some comfort as well.”

  Slowly, they moved of one accord, their lips meeting in a testing kiss, soft, gentle, retreating and trying again. They separated, eyes meeting to confirm this was what they both wanted and then she stood to lead him to her bedroom.

  Faint light from the hallway bathed the room that was otherwise in shadows. It suited the encounter, both of them having dark corners of their life that weren’t ready to be exposed in the bright light. They undressed silently, watching each other, the whisper of zippers and rustling of material the only sound.

  Gwyn brushed her fingers lightly over his wounds.

  “I’m sorry you were injured.”

  He drew her close. “It’s not the first fight I’ve been in.”

  “The last?” She cocked her head.

  “Maybe. I’m done with Lycan Link.”

  “I don’t understand your role with them.”

  He shook his head. “It’s complicated. And we’ve better things to do right now.” And cupping her face, he kissed her.

  Some time later when their breathing had steadied, they lay in each other’s arms. Gywn idly ran her fingers through Dante’s hair, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

  Dante was slowly stroking her shoulder. “You know, that was just like I imagined.”

  “You imagined having sex with me?”

  “Many, many times.” He turned to look at her. “You never imagined that?”

  “Having sex with myself. No, can’t say I have.”

  He laughed.

  Time passed. A companionable silence filled the room. She was warm, relaxed, hovering on the edge of sleep.

  “Have you ever been in love?” Dante’s voice was low and husky.

  “Hmm? Love?” She stretched and adjusted her position. “I thought I was in love once. It was years ago. I was more child than woman at the time, only I didn’t realize it.”

  “Same here.”

  She quirked a brow. “You were a woman?”

  He looked at her askance and then chuckled. “No. Definitely male but young. I was in love though. And she was young and beautiful and in love with me.”

  “This was Carlotta?”

  He nodded. “I had to return to school but I promised I’d come back for her. I meant it, too.”

&n
bsp; “Tomas made promises too, but he was a liar.”

  “Tomas? That was his name?”

  “Yes. He told me he loved me but then married another.”

  “Bastard.”

  “That was one of the names I called him.”

  He was silent for a few minutes. “Tomorrow is the anniversary of her death.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” He sighed. “I wonder what would have happened if she’d lived. If we’d been a family and raised Damien together.”

  “She was Damien’s mother?” She looked up at him in surprise.

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t realize.”

  “There’s no way you could have known.” He wrapped one of her curls around his finger. “Damien only found out today, too.”

  “And how did that go?”

  He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Hard to tell. It was a shock for him to find out I was his father and then to learn his mother had been murdered. It’s a lot for anyone to absorb.”

  “True.”

  “I can see Carlotta in him. His hair and eyes. The way he tilts his head when he’s thinking.”

  “You remember that about her after all these years?”

  He sighed, imagining Carlotta in his mind, her smile, the way her eyes lit up when something amused her. “Love doesn’t forget.”

  Gwyn made no comment.

  He glanced down and noticed she was sleeping. He reached down and pulled the covers up around her shoulders. Asleep, her features were soft, her long red hair curling gently about her face. This was the side of her he’d caught glimpses of, the side of her he’d love to know better. Her quick wit and temper drew him to her but there was more to her than what she showed the world. He wanted to be the one to uncover her hidden depths. The question was, would she let him or would she push him away?

  He stared at the ceiling wondering if it was Tomas’ betrayal that had her keeping everyone at arm’s length or if it was connected to the blood spell she’d enacted. His snitch said blood spells were very hard to complete successfully and usually involved a major sacrifice. Had she sacrificed the softer side of herself for a longer life? And if so, why?

  It was a puzzle he could devote his time to, now that he was no longer on the trail of the malefic witch. That and trying to build some kind of relationship with his son. They’d never be close but hopefully he could help Damien avoid the curse that plagued their family.

  Sam padded down the stairs in search of Damien. His side of the bed was cold indicating he’d been gone for some time rather than a quick trip to the bathroom. A light filtered from the office which was odd. Damien hated paperwork and there were no outstanding forms or reports that needed to be submitted.

  Quietly, she approached, getting a glimpse inside the office through the partially closed door. Damien was sitting at the desk, a nearly empty bottle of liquor near his elbow, his eyes fixed on the computer screen.

  She studied him, taking in the musculature of his chest, the dark stubble that graced his chin and the way his hair was mussed as if he’d run his hand through it one too many times. There was no denying her mate was a handsome man but it wasn’t desire that stirred in her now. He’d been quiet ever since they’d left the Universal Coven, barely speaking, leaving it to the others to recount the events that had happened inside while she’d waited safely in the car. After dinner, he’d gone on patrol having unexpectedly traded duty with one of the other pack members and not returning until she was already in bed. He’d given her a perfunctory peck on the cheek and rolled over facing away from her rather than spooning as they usually did.

  Did she give him more space, or push? Even as she debated, he spoke.

  “I know you’re out there.”

  She pushed the door open and stood in the entrance. “Can’t get anything past those superior Lycan senses of yours, can I?” Her small joke was met with silence. He didn’t even look up. She waited a beat and then walked over to the desk to examine the bottle. It had been full last time she’d seen it. Damien hadn’t drunk heavily in quite some time, not since he’d been in mourning for Beth when they’d first met.

  “I’m not drunk.”

  She set the bottle down and circled the desk to place her hands on his shoulders. “I didn’t say you were.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “What are you researching?”

  “Reno gave me a thumb drive with all the information he had on Dante and my mother.”

  “Oh.” She waited but he didn’t elaborate. “Can I read it?”

  He turned the screen towards her so she sat on the arm of his chair and scanned the data. Reno had shared some of the facts with her but not all. “He’s very clever according to the Academy records.”

  “Yeah. Turned down a job with Lycan Link Intelligence.”

  “He headed south instead. Probably to meet your mother.”

  Damien nodded.

  “The rest seems to be speculation on Reno’s part.”

  “Dante told me today that her name was Carlotta.” There was a break in his voice and she rubbed his shoulder.

  “You were named after her. That’s a special connection to have.”

  “Yeah.” A sigh escaped him, one so deep and heavy it seemed to come from the very depths of his being. He leaned against her. “Hold me, Sam, please. Just hold me.”

  Chapter 30

  Gwyn was making her usual toast and tea when Dante appeared in the kitchen. His hair was damp from the shower, his chest bare. She recalled his shirt had been ruined yesterday and made a mental note to lend him one of Matt’s. Her gaze drifted over his toned body. They were about the same build.

  “Good morning.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “No coffee?”

  “I drink tea in the morning.”

  “I’m adaptable as long as it’s not the lawn clipping stuff you gave me yesterday.” He snagged a cup and poured some from the teapot.

  “It’s Earl Grey.”

  He took a sip and nodded in approval. “Normal. Good.”

  “I’m glad my tea, in my kitchen meets with your approval.”

  “I know you are.” He began opening the cupboards, found a jar of peanut butter, set it on the counter and took one of the slices of toast that had just popped from the toaster.

  “That was mine.” She watched dourly as he spread peanut butter on it.

  “I’ll share.” He cut it in half and handed her a piece, smiling.

  “You are as ballsy as a bull, aren’t you?”

  “Is that based on last night’s assessment?”

  She rolled her eyes and sat down at the table to look at the paper. He took a seat opposite her.

  “If you do the crossword, I can be of help. I’m quite good at them.”

  “I don’t do the crossword.” She took a sip of her tea and tried to concentrate on the headlines.

  “Maybe you should try. It’s a good way to stimulate the brain first thing in the morning.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Too bad. What about the Sudoku puzzle?”

  She set her cup of tea down with a decided click and folded the newspaper. “You chatter like a magpie in the morning, don’t you?”

  “You’re not a morning person. I can work with that.” He grinned. “I’m in a good mood. I woke up in bed with a beautiful woman. The sun is shining and the day is full of possibilities. What shall we do?”

  “I need to check on the club and make sure no one trashed the place last night in my absence.”

  “I’m sure that didn’t happen.”

  “I still have work to do. I have a great staff but I always check they cleaned up properly and that the bar is stocked. There’s last night’s receipts to go over, and I have to prepare the bank deposit. Oh, and make sure there’s toilet paper in the bathrooms. Real exciting stuff.” She made a face.

  “I’ll help. I have some time this morning.”

  “Suit yourself.” She stood up. “You can sta
rt by cleaning up in here while I get dressed.”

  “No problem.” He leaned back in his chair, smiling.

  Yep, he was a damned morning person.

  As she dressed, the sound of him singing in the kitchen drifted into her room. It was an old song from the ’40s and she found herself humming along to it, a smile forming on her lips. It was nice to have someone else moving about the apartment. Matt had usually left after a quick breakfast and she’d be alone for most of the day, only Sherman for company.

  She looked about for the cat but he wasn’t in his usual spot. Most likely he was with Dante. The animal had fallen under the man’s spell, just as she had.

  The thought had her stopping in the middle of combing her hair. Had she fallen under Dante’s spell? Not a magical one but the emotional kind? There was a sudden ache in her chest and she pressed her hand to it. No, she couldn’t be falling for Dante, it wasn’t possible…was it?

  An hour later they were working companionably in the club. Dante had finished making sure the shelves were properly stocked with glasses and was now straightening chairs while Gwyneth finished going over the liquor inventory.

  “What do you do next?” He looked over to where she was working.

  “Hmm?” She didn’t turn his way, her eyes fixed on the bottles she was counting. “Oh, I’ll do a cleansing.”

  He glanced about. “The place looks pretty clean to me.”

  “Not cleaning. Cleansing. I sense there’s a lot of emotional residue in the room.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” she set down the list she’d been holding and wandered over to where he was standing. “There was an argument in this general area, quite a heated one.”

  There was no sign of broken glass or damaged furniture. “I don’t see any signs of one.”

  “I do. It’s like an aura. If I half-close my eyes it’s as if ghosts from the previous night pass before me but instead of bodies I see emotions, similar to clouds of colour.”

  “And you need to get rid of them.”

  She nodded. “If they are too strong, left-over emotions from a previous evening can affect the new patrons who happen to walk through them.”