Only Pretty Betas: A Shifter Paranormal Romance Series (Rebel Werewolves Book 2)

by Rosemary A Johns

  For the first time, my Charms and I had the advantage. Stella had thought that the Wolf Tamer would kill or subdue Moon’s wolf, yet my bond with my Charms and Amadeus’ secret power had stopped the poison.

  But what should I do with that advantage? I didn’t want to hide terrified in the wardrobe and I was definite that my wolves would do anything to break free of their collars. I was the Wolf Charmer, and my pack were princes, angels, mages, and gods.

  It was freaking time that we took back our legacies and our kingdoms.

  Mischief’s brow furrowed. “Tell me, is your happy face usually so hostile?”

  I thrilled at the way that my dark smile made Mischief flinch; freaking out a god was a rush. “I’m just thinking about the ass kicking that we owe the Oxford covens.”

  “Dangerous as I’d suggest you thinking to be,” Mischief smirked (okay, my smile only had limited intimidation value), “if it involves witches’ asses being soundly kicked, then think away.”

  Ramiel raised his elegant hand. “Seconded.”

  “I have one question for our sexy little ball of incubus fun.” When Emperor’s hand clamped around Amadeus’ elbow, he eeped. “What’s with your magical kiss of life? And I know: why didn’t you sparkle Moon out of his personal hell straightaway? Wait, that’s two questions. And oh look, how little I care.”

  Moon waved his hand. “Fur and fangs, why does it even matter? I’m fine now…”

  “Do you know how many times you’ve said that, after we’ve hauled your pale bottom out of trouble?” Emperor snapped.

  Amadeus ducked his head. “Please, I needed my power to be strong enough first.” Well, that explained his gorging on my pleasure. Although, having been kept quivering on the edge of peaking for hours, before tipping over into the most intense orgasm of my life, I wasn’t complaining. Unless, you know, it was about the secrets part of this because that was bad. “I thought it’d disgust you and I simply wanted my pack to desire me.”

  I looked at him blankly. “Umm, why would I be disgusted? Dude, it was hot.”

  Amadeus peeked at me like he was gauging my truthfulness. His cheeks and neck were flushed pink; he’d never looked more beautiful.

  How could he ever think that he’d disgust me?

  “Some incubi have the talent. I only wanted to please you and never shame you. I was meant to be only a pretty Beta — the prettiest Beta.” His lip curled, as he glanced up. “My mongrel incubus blood was forgiven in my adoption so that I could be your prince.”

  “I believe I told you never to refer to yourself as mongrel.” Mischief raised his imperious eyebrow. “We are both aware just how strong your magic is. Plus, a mongrel can take down worlds.”

  Just for a moment, Amadeus’ eyes flashed. Then he pulled at the bottom of his top, playing with a frayed thread. “The princess of my kingdom made me swear not to reveal it.”

  Emperor clenched his jaw, before his hold on Amadeus gentled. “Your sister dared to insist on a Moon Oath?”

  “Adopted sister.” Amdeus wrinkled his nose. “Don’t go making Vala and me blood relatives.”

  Moon’s gaze darkened. “You shouldn’t have broken a Moon Oath for me. She can kill you now.”

  Amadeus smile was shaky. “Stop being Mr Bossy Pants. Like you get to risk your life for us, but I don’t get to risk it for you?”

  I blinked. “Woah, is your adopted sister that harsh a bitch? I mean, it wasn’t like you were just showing off for a party trick. You were seriously being the hero.”

  Amadeus snorted. “You’re sexy, Charmer, but you need a lesson in wolf politics.” He clambered over Moon to me, before kissing down my neck.

  I wet my lips. “Wolf politics is way more fun than the human kind.”

  Amadeus’ huff of amusement gusted against my neck. “Just a demonstration, see? This is how close my pack was back on our island off the welsh coast before the Wolf War. We were so isolated that we’d never even seen a witch. We avoided the other wolf kingdoms. Then the war started, and we didn’t think to fight because it had nothing to do with us, see?” His arms wound around me for comfort. “What did we know about anything outside this closeness?” When he wrenched away from me, the loss of his touch was painful. I got it then. That was what it’d been like for his pack to be dragged away from their island to their tiny home beside the Thames. “The survivors…what’s left of us…we don’t mix with the other wolves once we’re out of school. Most would happily see the other kingdoms drown beneath the waves. Look you, Vala would be outraged that I’d broken an oath for a Wild.”

  “And a Wild would be outraged that I’m snuggling with a Beta from the Gods,” Moon muttered.

  “Whilst us from the Kingdom of the Alphas merely believe that we’re superior to all the other wolves.” Emperor grinned cockily. “An idea not without merit.”

  It’d never struck me so sharply that although the witches called it Wolf Kingdom, these wolves actually came from three different places across Britain, before the war.

  “Well, let’s just roll over and play good doggy for my aunt.” I crossed my arms. “If you’re not united, you’ll always be leashed.”

  I didn’t miss the way that my Charms exchanged a glance. My guts churned. It looked like I was preaching to the centuries-old choir.

  What did they have planned?

  Moon nodded. “Aye, you’re right, single skin. So, let’s start with my brother. He’ll be worrying his daft head off.”

  In the excitement of Moon’s resurrection moment, I’d forgotten about Moth. The poor kid was probably stashed in a wardrobe somewhere, still cursing us out.

  “Spooks,” I hollered at the ceiling, “you can bring back Moth now. Hey, I know that you’re listening.”

  Silence.

  Okay, not pressing the freak out button yet…

  I sighed. “Zetta, I’m sorry that I called you Spooks. Seriously, get Mini Moon’s ass out here.”

  Suddenly, the temperature in the room dropped. Cold, damp, and moist. I shivered, whilst Ramiel enfolded Mischief in his wings. Okami whimpered, fluffing out his tail, as he flew to wind himself around my neck like a scarf.

  Then the windows and doors opened and closed — slam.

  I jumped. “I’m not loving the Poltergeist vibe. Why not stop creeping us out, and just tell us where you stuffed Moth?”

  The bedposts burst into flames.

  I fell off the bed, whilst Emperor hauled Amadeus and Moon free of the smoldering sheets, before battling through the blaze himself. Ramiel and Mischief coughed, swooping through the smoke.

  I lay, clutching Okami, whilst he whined, staring wide-eyed, as the bed flared to ash like the tip of a cigarette or a bonfire.

  To a witch, there was nothing more insulting than threatening her with a burning.

  Zetta had just declared war.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Dazed, I stared at the smoldering bed and scorched walls of my bedroom, which had now been transformed into a battleground.

  I clutched Okami, as he hugged my throat. He growled at Zetta, even though she was still hiding from sight.

  Zetta was the essence of the House of Silver and every Wolf Charmer who’d come before me. She wouldn’t kill one of the Wolf Charmer line, right? Unless, I’d pissed off my ancestors enough with my modernization of their customs because let’s face it: their traditions sucked.

  My uncle had often faced opposition when he’d modernized his company. But then, he’d never risked burning.

  I watched as my Charms warily prowled to their feet. Ramiel dragged Mischief to the corner of the room, since his burst of flight had exhausted him. Moon held out his hand to me, helping me to my feet.

  “I’m lady of this manor,” I waved at the walls, hoping for once that Zetta would step through the skin like usual and this war would be over before it started, “stop dicking around or I’ll find a way to exorcise your ass.”

  “Nay, you’re neither a lady nor a girl.” Moon nuzzled his cheek against m
ine, although his gaze was sharp. “You’re a woman and a Charmer. My Crimson. No whispers from the past can stop you.”

  I scuffed my boot along the floor, whilst my mouth was dry. Hadn’t I always been stopped by the past? My memories? Mom?

  The cape was too heavy on my shoulders. Why didn’t it feel like it was soothing me anymore, rather that it was smothering…?

  Moon tipped up my chin; his fingers barely brushed my feverish skin. “Our pasts won’t stop us.”

  I jerked, as suddenly nuclear alarm sirens wailed through the room. My guts clenched in terror at the alien sound, as I clasped my hands over my ears. Then the sirens cut off, and “Two Tribes Go to War” by Frankie Goes to Hollywood burst out, sung by the stone wolves whose mouths opened and closed in weird unison.

  What kind of asshole used a symbolic burning, combined with electronic disco pop to declare war?

  Yep, that’d be Zetta.

  “Okay, we get it,” I sighed. “You’ve moved on from the dancing with a naked Ramiel stage of our relationship to the wanting us blown up. It happens. Just tell us where Moth is, then we can get back to…whatever this is.”

  The walls blew a rude raspberry so enthusiastically — and wetly — that my hair whipped damply around my face.

  I grimaced. Now this was war.

  “Cease your inexcusable performance of ill manners, you intolerable creature,” Mischief rasped.

  Mischief’s breath came in short pants, whilst his shoulders rose and fell too rapidly. He was dying, and I was certain that Zetta knew the truth behind that as well.

  Zetta had tried to stop Ramiel and Mischief from investigating the mage’s death, she was refusing to return Moth, and now she was threatening my Charms.

  My gaze became flinty, as I swung my cape across one shoulder like I was the matador and she was the bull. If Zetta wanted to bring it, then I was done hiding from the bullies.

  “Why are you ragging on us? I’m the Wolf Charmer, and this is my house.” My eyes narrowed. “You either help us or you get out. Whoops, you can’t. So, it looks like you’re helping or dying, and it seems like you know what that’ll be like, since you’ve watched Mischief.”

  I winced, as the growled hard rock of Godsmack’s “Cryin’ Like a Bitch” exploded in a churning scream of electric guitars.

  Well, that told me.

  Emperor raised his eyebrow, smoothing down his golden locks. “Excuse me, are you perhaps suggesting that we’ll be crying like bitches?”

  Ramiel’s gaze became steely. “Zetta wouldn’t be so foolish. She knows that she’s the only bitch in this house.”

  I gaped at my shy, softly spoken angel who looked anything but either of those things right now.

  Remind me never to get on the wrong side of Mr Protective Angel.

  Amadeus bounced on his toes in fighting stance, weaving to the dark harmonies of the heavy metal. “I told you that you were corrupting me. Please let me fight! I can school her.”

  The corners of Emperor’s mouth twitched. “Of course you could. In the Gods, there’s no doubt that they allowed their pampered prince to take part in brutal fisticuffs.”

  Amadeus scowled. “You’ve no idea what happened in the Gods.”

  Nope, that fact didn’t freak me out at all.

  “What is this: The Fight Club Mix Tape?” I hollered up at the ceiling like that’d encourage Zetta to finally show her asshole self. When it didn’t, I booted the wall. “That’s it, Spooks, I’m done being Miss Nice Witch. If you want a smack down…I mean it’s not like I want one but…” I struggled to hold onto what Moon had told me: I was a Charmer who couldn’t be held back by my past. “You know what, I kind of freaking do. You’ve been the pain in my ass too long. Let’s take this one-on-one.”

  Zetta strolled through the wall, brushing a stray red curl casually behind her ear. It still hurt that she was wearing the ball gown that mom had worn on the night that she’d been murdered…that Zetta had chosen to look like mom at all.

  “Wow, for a moment there, I thought that you’d never ask,” Zetta smirked.

  Mischief thwapped his wing against the floor, until I met his panicked gaze. “May I request that you hold off on playing Rambo? If this entity is the essence of your mother and this great-grandmother of yours, as well as every bad, bad witch to come before even her, then I’ll hazard a guess that she does indeed intend to make us cry, like bitches or otherwise.”

  Zetta giggled. “The little god is always so much fun and right.”

  Then she raised her hand, and cold air blasted me backwards.

  Caught in a bubble that smelled of sweet honeysuckle, making my head swim, I sank through the door that had melted behind me. Then I tumbled across the house, yelping. I shielded my head with my hands as I landed at the top of the Elizabethan staircase. The evening sun bled through the wide windows, bathing the house in crimson.

  It was almost the night of the full moon.

  I hadn’t proved the wolves’ innocence or stopped the witches’ development of the Wolf Tamer. I had saved my pack: no one could ever accuse me of being a pessimist.

  Despite that, by the end of tonight, the Second Wolf War would be launched by the witches on the unprepared wolves who were my Charms’ families.

  It’d be a massacre, and that was me being an optimist about it.

  Yet how could I defeat the entire Oxford covens, when I couldn’t even take on Zetta?

  My family’s motto glowed on the wall:

  Charm the wolves. Control the crimson tide.

  I took a step towards it. Every single time that I’d walk down these stairs, mom would tap the motto, before reading it out. It’d become my nickname: Crimson Tide. My shadows flowed out of me, rippling over the wall and tracing the words.

  I’d charmed the wolves, but how did I control the crimson tide?

  What if it wasn’t a bloody sea created by the wolves, after all? What if the crimson tide…was me?

  My shadows thrummed with the truth of the revelation, which reached back to a time before the Head Coven had existed, or rules and diplomacy. Instead, to an ancient bond between Charmer and wolf, which was meant to be as equals like mine with the Moon Child, where the only danger was the seductive pull of my own shadows for power.

  I paled, shrinking back. Okami rubbed his ears against my throat with a whine. Then I staggered, glancing down at my feet in surprise. The step beneath them was softening to melted silver.

  I snarled. “Zetta, chill your ghost ass out. Stop sucking on my feet. I only want the truth. I shouldn’t have hidden from it so long. What’s my true legacy?”

  “Charm the wolves. Control the crimson tide,” chanted from the motto like a choir of school kids were trapped in the wall. I clutched my hands over my ears, whilst Okami whined. “Charm the wolves. Control the crimson tide.”

  Yep, so I needed a more direct approach that would appeal to the narcissist in Zetta.

  “How do I become as epic as my great-grandmother?” I hollered over the chanting.

  Then I shrieked, as a hole opened beneath me, sucking all of me down through its sparking mouth and spitting me into the dark cellar beneath, as had happened on the first day that I’d brought Omega home to the House of Silver.

  I groaned, rubbing my ass, as I glanced up at the sign: DISCIPLINE CELLAR.

  Freaking fabulous.

  I trailed my shadows like fairy lights around the gloom, scrunching my nose at the stench of mold. The cellar’s walls and ceiling gleamed in silver, and I shook my head at the reminder of the cages, muzzles, and punishment implements that mom had kept down here. Okay, not thinking about the why she had, but I wasn’t vanilla enough to need a diagram to go with the paddles and canes. Only, I didn’t think that safe words and limits had been involved with the Wolf Charmers who’d come before me and their wolves.

  My breath hitched at the sight of my wolves hanging spread-eagled like pelts from the ceiling, which at least meant that they weren’t touching the silver.
r />   I shoved myself up, searching for a way to let them down.

  Even chained, Emperor attempted for haughty. Honestly, he had a way of carrying off tied up but still in charge. “Funny fact: you didn’t tell us that you had a dungeon in your cellar.”

  I reddened. “It’s not mine…”

  “Aye, a wolf dungeon,” Moon added, narrowing his eyes.

  I yanked at the chains, trying to free Moon. “Hello, it’s not mine.”

  “A kinky sex dungeon.” Amadeus grinned, looking around with far too much excitement. When the other two Charms turned to glare at him, he pouted. “It could be…”

  “For the love of Hecate, it’s not mine, so strike me dead!” I howled.

  Suddenly, bright light lit up the room, blinding me.

  Honestly Hecate, that hadn’t been an invitation…

  I tripped backwards, crashing against the cage with a clang. When the light faded, I rubbed at my eyes. White spots danced in my vision, before it settled back into the dark. My crimson wove out, only to draw back in shock.

  Zetta leaned over me, grinning. “Miss me?”

  I shoved up, whooshing straight through her, which was unpleasantly chilly, before stalking to the other side of the cellar. “Like a mob and pitchforks.”

  Zetta twirled, pouting. “Rude. Shall we get to the striking dead part because that sounds fun.”

  I paled. “Jesus, why are you being such a hardass? All I want to know is—"

  Zetta’s gray eyes became flinty. “I can’t decide if I care less about you want or what you say.” She cocked her head. “Let’s rank them equal and say that I simply don’t care.”

  I dug my fingers into my palms. “Where are my angels?”

  Zetta prowled closer. “I love it when you’re all possessive.” She shivered. “All that Wolf Charmer energy sends a chill down my spine.”

  My jaw clenched. “That’s it. For the last time, stop looking like my mom.”

  Zetta pulled an exaggerated sad face. “You try your best for your kids…”

  I launched myself at her, and she vanished. When I twisted back, she reappeared in Batman at his most dark and unrelenting.