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

by Rosemary A Johns

  “Hey, fingers over here, honey wolfie, I’m not done with that sweetness.” I wagged my tongue out more like a dog than a cat, tempting the Omega back.

  Who needed dignity, when I could have treats?

  Mischief groaned, as I finished sucking on the (now pulling a smug face at Mischief), Omega’s fingers. Although, it could’ve been the way that I worked the fingers in my mouth, licking and then sucking, which even had the Omega flushed. But it was epic to see that he no longer avoided either of our eyes.

  What wasn’t epic, however, was the way that he shook and instantly returned to the ducked head and hunched shoulders look, as soon as the Queen of the Gods swished into the Lunar Shrine in a dress that had such a long train that it floated behind like moonlight over water.

  Queen Banan was fairy beautiful but aristocratically cold. Her eyes made me feel like a spook because they looked straight through me, as if I wasn’t there or she was seeing someone else entirely. Her crown of crescent moons was stark in contrast to her waterfall black hair that fell to her waist…and she cradled Moth to her chest like he was her kid.

  I gaped at the way that the queen wrapped a small ivory blanket around his shoulders, whilst absentmindedly rubbing at its corner herself.

  Wait, was that a security blanket…?

  I didn’t mean to be a jerk about it, but I might just have put my finger on why the Gods were the kingdom who hadn’t mixed with the other wolves, or fought before they’d been conquered. If their own queen had a security blanket and needed to take Moth as a cub teddy bear, then no wonder the witches had triumphed.

  What chance had the shifters had?

  Except, Vala was more than smart enough to trick even Mischief. Maybe the queen simply had a thing for cuddling Princes of the Wilds? Honestly, I had a serious weakness for that myself.

  The Omega with wavy hair pulled his fingers free from my mouth with a wet pop that was embarrassingly loud in the sudden silence. Then he backed away without looking up and stepped into his alcove, freezing as if he’d returned to statue form.

  Here was a creepy assed thought: What if the Omegas always lived in this shrine as their duty and they waited here like stone with no more choice over their lives than the Omegas in the Wilds? But maybe it was considered an honor…

  Yep, as much an honor as hanging trapped like mosquitoes in amber was an honor for Mischief and me. The type of honor that I could seriously do without.

  Queen Banan sauntered closer. For the first time, she appeared to truly see me. Yet I didn’t think that it was an improvement because she assessed both Mischief and me like stringing up your daughter-in-law and god like baubles was an amusing hobby.

  My uncle had peered at my collections of magic tech like that when I was a kid.

  Mischief sniffed. “I think that our greeting can be reduced to five words: Let us go or die.”

  Where was Emperor and his diplomacy when you needed him?

  “You haven’t met Mischief yet, but he’s a royal prick. So, I’m sorry for his...” Crappy attitude didn’t quite cover it. “…Threats to kill.” I grinned with an attempt to be winning. Hey, I could pull it off. “Seriously, he wouldn’t be in apocalypse mode, if we hadn’t been told that we were guests, but then had been chained with our magic bound.”

  When Moth peeked at me from his place clasped to the queen, I shot him a reassuring smile. This time I was glad that Moon wasn’t here, either to do his rebellious kicking of diplomacy’s ass or to do that thing where he begged to take Moth’s place for punishment.

  Woah, bad bad brain: first food fantasies and now images of my Moon nestled up to the Queen of the Gods.

  I’d have whacked my own forehead but I was still paralyzed, and the only person who could release me hadn’t even shown a flicker of emotion throughout my admittedly unpolished speech. But you know, that was what came of being tortured with rock music for hours. Banan was lucky that I hadn’t simply screamed…or whined like Mischief had…in her face.

  Yep, that was why we needed Emperor.

  At last, Banan tipped up her aristocratic nose like concentrating on me was a painful effort. “May the moon shine on you. I welcome you into my kingdom below.” Her whisper was as icy as the moon’s rays on a winter night.

  I shivered; I could feel each word prickling my skin into goosebumps.

  Banan had a matching Welsh lilt to both Vala and Amadeus’, but then, all the shifters of the Gods who’d survived had come from the same tiny Welsh island. I shivered again as I remembered what Amadeus had told me about how they’d been ripped from their closeness to be dragged here, away from their homes and land.

  That must’ve been terrifying.

  “Now that the unpleasantries are over,” Mischief sniffed, “release us, wolf.”

  Banan’s gaze swung to Mischief. “My daughter showed me footage, see, that I hardly dared believe…until now. But your violence and threats can’t be allowed to endanger my people. They’ve suffered too much already. Fur and fangs, it’s my duty to protect my kingdom, even from our god.”

  I sighed. Okay, so she had a point. In her place, I’d at least have allowed my honored guests a hearing before I found them guilty. Plus, I’d never violate anyone by binding their magic.

  I hadn’t lived through the Wolf War, however, or watched my people decimated before me. I’d witnessed only moments of my great-grandmother in action, but it’d been enough to sicken me.

  How far would I go to make certain that outsiders weren’t a danger to my wolves, if I’d lived through the Wolf War as one of the shifter royalty who’d been forced to kneel?

  Guilt churned in my guts. I might be forging a new path as a Wolf Charmer but I was only just beginning to realize how much I was asking of these wolves.

  “Oh, I’m aware that you have a duty to make certain that I’m safe because I’m the enemy,” I replied.

  Next to me, Mischief choked. “Wait, she didn’t mean enemy—"

  I ignored him, forcing myself to continue in a rush, “And hey, you’re right: I’m not safe. I’m a Wolf Charmer and I can control wolves. That’s what I do, right? But if Amadeus has been spying on me (and honestly, that’s okay too because I don’t blame him or you for not trusting that he was safe with me), then you’ll know that I’m not the same as any of the other asshole Wolf Charmers. I didn’t keep him in a cage, control him with my shadows, or force him… I love him.” I met Banan’s gaze with a steely determination, and I could’ve been imagining it, but the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. “I don’t think that wolves are beasts, savages, or killers.”

  The Omegas who’d been frozen in place as statues broke position in shock.

  The Omega with wavy hair raised his head for a moment, staring at me in awe. What did I bet that I’d broken another witchy law with that rant? But it was worth it for that look alone.

  “A single skin like you truly believes that?” Banan stepped closer, clutching Moth to her side.

  I smiled. “Dude, I love all my pack. Please, just let me see that they’re okay…”

  Banan’s eyes became shuttered. “That’s no longer your concern, Wolf Witch.”

  “And the cub?” Mischief asked cautiously, sweeping his gaze over Moth like he was scanning for injuries.

  Banan’s sombre face lit up, and she grinned. The weird transformation from cold to warmth was night to day, and she instantly looked much younger.

  She petted Moth’s hair. “You mean my adopted son?”

  My eyes widened. Mage’s balls… “I freaking don’t.”

  Banan’s eyes flashed, and I quivered at their fire.

  She tightened her hold around Moth, until he winced. “Your mother stole my true son away, Wolf Witch, are you not aware?” I swallowed, whilst my cheeks reddened with a shame that felt like it wanted to eat me from the inside. Holy hell, I was aware…and I wished that I wasn’t. Were those tears making her eyes bright now? “My true s-son would only be slightly older now if h-he…I mean, he will be
… Look you, if he h-hadn’t been taken from me, they’d be similar…” Then she bared her teeth, and they snapped into fangs. “Why shouldn’t I have a new son?”

  When she broke off, her eyes were wet.

  Banan didn’t know that her son had been killed. Hocus pocus, she was this distressed simply thinking that her son was in the hands of witches.

  How could I tell a mom that her son was dead?

  Painting in my studio had never trained me for this.

  When I glanced at Mischief, he shot me a warning look. My squirming guilt doubled to keep the secret, but I knew that Mischief had a point: we were both at our weakest, and Banan adored her true son. So, now wasn’t the time to admit that he’d been killed by witches to save a mage because put like that…it kind of sounded bad.

  When Moth cringed at Banan’s vibrating fury, she soothed him, stroking his curls, just like I craved to. Then she pressed the security blanket into Moth’s hand like he was a kid who’d need it to protect him from his fears. Only, the nightmares had already taken both him and the Ambassador…and they’d been the witches.

  The way that Moth wrinkled his nose at having the security blanket forced on him would’ve been funny, since he always insisted that he wasn’t a cub, only Banan’s grief as a mom was raw and agonizing.

  How had my mom tucked me in every night — loved me as her kid — whilst knowing that she’d denied the same to another mom who loved her kid just the same? How had she been able to keep one of us upstairs, whilst the other was in the cellar? Had she truly believed that bullshit about shifters being nothing but beasts or was hate and the drive for power enough to corrupt anyone to commit such acts?

  None of that meant it was okay for Moth to be used as a son replacement; he was a Prince of the Wilds and not the Gods. But then, I’d created Okami to be my therapy, and Stella had built the mechanicals.

  Who was I to talk about healthy?

  “The true prince would want you to have his blankie; he was always such a kind boy,” Banan cooed like Moth was a tiny cub. “It was his, before he was taken away to be trained in that terrible center to prepare him for the witches. They didn’t allow him to take it with him, no matter how much he sobbed.” She stroked down Moth’s cheek. “Now I have you as my son, and I shan’t allow anyone to take you. I promise.”

  “I apologize for the cruelties visited on you and your son,” Mischief said with an intensity that shocked Banan into glancing up at him, “but repeating the cycle is, I assure you, never the answer.”

  My heart suddenly sped up, as Banan’s eyes became sheeted ice, and she stalked to Mischief with a swish of her trailing dress.

  Banan reached through the mists of the moon to snatch Mischief’s chin in a bruising grip. “Cruelty? By the furless heavens, like a god who watched the death and destruction of his people and did nothing to save them?”

  When her hand slid to Mischief’s throat and tightened, Moth begged, “Ma, please don’t…”

  I could tell by the way that he trembled how much that ma had cost him. Banan, however, lightened her touch, until she was only stroking over Mischief’s fluttering pulse.

  “You arrive too late, but I still have a role for you in this shrine, see.” Banan let go of Mischief’s throat, taking a step back. Mischief’s eyes sparked, as he broke her gaze. Ashen, it was me who whimpered because I saw through Banan’s mask to her seething hatred and boy, was that not pretty. “You’ll be kept here always with your magic bound. A worshiped idol and nothing more.”

  Then Mischief did whimper and pant in distress, and I was right there with him because the wisps of moonlight in the Seraphim Traps began to crystallize around us, pressing our magic even deeper inside.

  Banan had over a decade of grief and loss, which she’d turned into an ice-cold rage that was more terrifying because it was both righteous and justified.

  Whilst my pack and I had expected sanctuary in the Kingdom of the Gods, instead we’d been brought here for atonement.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I didn’t miss the irony that the greatest danger I’d faced since stumbling into the supernatural world in England was because of a mom’s love for her son. Of course, I’d spent the last decade hating on wolves because of my own love for my mom, who’d been killed by wolves.

  Just like this mom’s son had been killed by witches.

  Okay, now I understood Mischief’s speech about cycles of violence, although I didn’t think that the Queen of the Gods cared about more than having her chance to be the one to kick some ass for a change.

  Banan’s eyes were flinty, as she stroked both Moth’s curls and her son’s blankie and watched the twin moons crystallizing around Mischief and me in the Lunar Shrine.

  When the last whispers of Mischief’s silver magic were drawn back inside him, he groaned. I shivered, even though beads of sweat plastered my ball gown to my back, and I couldn’t feel either my fingers or my shadows anymore. Maybe this Seraphim Trap was like magical frostbite.

  I giggled. Hold it together, Crimson; this is your hysteria alert.

  My giggle transformed into a sob; I reached for my red, and there was nothing but a sigh at the back of my mind. I retched at the horror.

  “You’re killing them,” Moth gasped, “please, please, please…”

  “I’m saving them from themselves,” Banan snarled.

  Her dickish words were the slap to the face that I needed.

  Suddenly calm again, although still shaking from the agony of the quelling of my magic, I took a deep breath through my nostrils of the dank shrine air.

  I could do this because I was more than my crimson shadows or Crimson Tide: I could also play a mean game of tennis, mix a blow your mind cocktail, and I’d been on the Debate Club, although only because my cousin had fancied the cruel but sweet assed Captain. And don’t get me started on my music because I had a playlist that’d rock these shifters’ non-existent pants off.

  I mean, I knew that those weren’t the kind of talents that helped when you were trapped by wolves but they were still me.

  What I didn’t need was anyone else to cage me like a beast to save me from myself.

  “I won’t say that I get your pain because I’ve never had a kid,” I said, softly. Banan’s gaze darted to mine. “Honestly, I’m only just married and before I came to Oxford, I could barely care for a houseplant. But you’ve every right to feel like you do. I know that. So, I’m not arguing about…this…” I waved at the spiked moon around me, “on my behalf because I’ve already promised that I’m different to my mom, and either you believe and trust me or you don’t. I can’t do a damn thing about that.” My expression hardened. “But seriously, you need to understand that Mischief isn’t some all-seeing asshole god who chose to ignore you. He’s a shifter who’s sacrificed the same as you.” My tongue swiped across my dry lips. Wow, there was a reason that my witchy ass didn’t normally give scoldings: I sucked at it. “So, all I’m saying is,” I took a deep breath, “don’t be a dickhead about it.”

  Mischief snickered, and Moth attempted to mask his giggle in the blankie.

  Banan’s piercing stare focused on Mischief. Her words were whispered and wrung from her painfully, “You would’ve come to us in the Wolf Wars if you’d known…?”

  Mischief’s lips thinned. “In a heartbeat.”

  At last, Banan’s expression softened, and the God Trap transformed to mist once more.

  I gasped, as my red rushed back to the surface, even if it couldn’t escape.

  I could’ve kissed the cruel boy with sweet lips who’d been the only reason that my cousin had dragged me to Debate Club. What I truly wanted was to kiss Mischief who hung next to me with his little finger touching mine.

  Yet I couldn’t even turn to him or do more than feel the soft skin of his finger tingling against me.

  Banan pointed regally at Mischief. “Look you, if you give me your Moon Oath to bring no violence—”

  “Oh, what a splendid way to die,” M
ischief said coolly, “unable to even defend myself.”

  “Your Moon Oath to attack no one within the Kingdom of the Gods,” Banan corrected through gritted teeth, “then I shall permit you both free. Although, as our god, you shall be moon leashed and on my queenly word, can be drawn back inside the shrine.”

  Yep, I hadn’t missed the warning. Neither had Mischief who flinched.

  “I give my Moon Oath,” Mischief reluctantly agreed, “to allow you to leash your own god to wait upon your word, as if you believed me your dog.”

  Woah, now that’s a masterclass in passive aggression.

  “Unbind,” Banan commanded, and the wisps of moonlight dispersed like whispers on the night.

  Mischief and I fell flat on our faces.

  Yey, for padding.

  When I pushed myself to my knees, the Omega with wavy hair caught my elbow helping me up and fussing at my dress to straighten it, whilst Mischief stalked to his feet. Then the Omega froze as if just realizing that he’d sprung to life from his place in the alcove. The other Omegas were watching him with scared expressions, unable to believe his daring but also a touch of wistfulness, as if they wished that they’d been the ones to break free.

  My red flowed around me in hissing waves at its mistreatment, even before I noticed the silver band around Mischief’s ankle: his leash. The queen could kick Mischief’s ass or mine but she wasn’t punishing an Omega for rebelling and trying to help me.

  I’d learned from Moon that royalty and leaders had responsibility and it meant protecting your subjects.

  I rested my hand on the Omega’s arm, and he leaned into the touch, just as Moon did. Maybe he received just as little gentle touch as Moon had before I’d Claimed him…?

  “You forget yourself, your duty, and the purity of the light that resides within your Omega body,” Banan scolded the Omega and holy hell, was she better at it than me. “You know what happens if you become sullied.”