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Subject to change

A TOUCH OF MAGIC

Book 8 of the True Mates Generations Series

 

Prologue

The call came at three o’clock in the morning, and anyone who’s ever been woken up by their phone at that time knows that such a call would be important. That’s why Cross Jonasson immediately picked up the cell on his bedside table and answered it.

“It’s me.”

The sound of his father’s voice made him sit up. As hybrid—part Lycan, part warlock—his eyes naturally adjusted to the darkness so he didn’t need to reach for the light. His wolf too, heard the urgency in his father’s voice and was immediately on alert.

“What’s wrong? Is it mom?”

“No, it’s Gunnar.” The words came out short and clipped, his father’s accent becoming more pronounced. “Come now.”

“I’ll be there.”

Rolling out of bed, he grabbed his discarded clothes from last night and quickly shrugged them on. From the dead seriousness of his Daric’s tone, he knew there would be no time to wash up or even gulp down a cup of coffee, even if he could make it himself on the go. Of course, while most people “made” coffee by brewing grounds, he could literally make coffee from thin air, via transmogrification, one of the powers he inherited from his warlock father.

As he grabbed a rubber band to tie up his messy blonde locks, he focused his thoughts on Gunnar’s location. He’d been there numerous times so it wasn’t difficult to transport himself there, using, again, the other power he’d inherited from his father—teleportation across long distances.

In seconds, he transported himself from his Lower East side apartment in New York to the middle of nowhere in the Shenandoah Valley. He appeared in the corner living area of the sparse cabin, a spot he and his father had designated as their transport spot. Teleportation, after all, was a tricky power. He needed to have been somewhere before to transport there, or have a clear idea of the location and view of the place. Even then, it was dangerous as he could accidentally materialize inside a tree or piece of furniture. It was so dangerous that he didn’t even attempt it until he had been studying with his father for at least a decade.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he strode into the cabin’s lone bedroom.

Daric stood by the bed, his hand on his son’s shoulder as he looked to Cross with those blue-green eyes so much like his own. “It happened again.”

Though Gunnar had his face buried in his hands as he sat at the edge of the bed, Cross could tell from the way his body tensed that something was very wrong. Not as bad as the last time—the incident that lead him to live like a hermit in this remote cabin—but this seemed grave nonetheless. Moving closer, he mirrored his father’s gesture and placed his hand on his brother’s other shoulder. “Gunnar, are you okay?”

Slowly, he turned his face up. His skin was pale and his brown eyes had that glazed-over look. “It was awful, Cross. Terrible. We … you … Dad … Mom … everyone dies.”

Daric’s eyes turned stormy. “He’s had another premonition.”

And that was the gift his younger brother had inherited from their father. The ability to see the future. However, unlike Daric’s power—which relied on touch—Gunnar’s was more spontaneous. He didn’t need to touch anyone to see their future. He just saw it.

Cross knelt beside him. “Was it clear?” He nodded. “Have you told dad?” Another nod. “Can you tell me?”

There was a moment of hesitation in Gunnar’s face, but he took a short, sharp breath and began to speak. “It was so clear … so many there … you, Dad, Mom. Astrid. And Nick Vrost …” He shook his head. “No it wasn’t Nick, this guy was younger. Maybe one of his sons. One of the twins or the eldest one. Also … Julianna Anderson and Elise and two more men I don’t recognize.”

“What were they—we doing?” Cross asked.

“A white marble table. Two things on top—a small sword and a pendant. There were hooded figures all around. Red robes. Red eyes.”

Gunnar became even paler, and Cross knew why. Though he’d never seen one before, he knew his history well. Red robes and red eyes. It could only mean one thing—mages. “And then?”

“There was a ceremony or something. They were chanting. You came up, trying to stop them but you couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because they had … there was a woman. White blonde hair. Unusual eyes. Blue—no, they’re like amethysts. And she’s wearing a ring. It’s silver with a small red stone in the middle. She takes the sword and the pendant and then … and then …”

Daric’s grip tightens. “Go ahead, tell him.”

Gunnar’s lower lip trembles. “She falls to the floor. You’re holding her and whisper something in her ear. There’s fighting around you. A man with long white hair wearing a red hooded robe slips the ring on his finger, raises the dagger and the necklace over his head. Then everyone’s dead … you’re dead. She’s dead. Mom. Dad. Astrid. Everyone dies. The man takes all the three objects and disappears. And they take over … armies … cities burned to the ground … humans in chains … death. I can’t … stop!” His fingers gripped his short blond hair, pulling at it. “I can’t—”

“It’s all right, son.” Daric rubbed at his back. “Why don’t you lie down?”

Gunnar lay his head on the pillow and curled up into a ball. When he closed his eyes, Daric motioned for Cross to follow him out to the living area.

“Was anyone hurt this time?” Cross asked when he shut the door behind him.

“No, but that’s why he stays out here.”

Since the accident over three years ago, the first time Gunnar’s premonition powers manifested. He’d been at the club in The Village he co-owned and the magic he bled out was so powerful it knocked everyone unconscious. That’s why he’d been living here. Well, that was the short version. “He’s never had another bad episode since the first time. Why now?”

“I think the more important thing here is what he predicted.”

He glanced back at the door to the bedroom, wondering if Gunnar was all right. These horrific visions he had … it tormented him. But Daric was right. What he saw was concerning, because Gunnar’s visions had never been wrong yet. “The mages are back.” He never thought he’d say such words out loud. “Or they will be.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” His father’s brows drew together. “We must warn the Alpha.”

“Grant Anderson is no fool.” Cross rubbed his temple. “I don’t think he believed us entirely when we said Gunnar had an accident with some potions that mixed together in his pocket. If he finds out about what really happened— ”

“He won’t,” Daric said. “I’ll make sure of it. We’ll make sure of it.”

Cross swallowed audibly. If Grant Anderson knew Gunnar’s powers were out of control, he would have no choice but to tell the Lycan High Council. And the council—who were already prejudiced against hybrids in the first place—could order his brother put down if he were deemed a danger. However, Cross also knew that the situation was so grave enough Daric was willing to risk exposing his son.

“What will we tell him?”

So they came up with a plan, and by sunrise, they were back in New York. Though they could easily pop into Grant Anderson’s office, they opted to go through his assistant, Jared and they were shown in right away.

“And what was this matter you needed to talk to be about?” The Alpha asked. “It must be important enough for you to come all the way to see me.”

“Alpha,” Daric bowed his head with respect. Although not a Lycan himself, the warlock had pledged to the clan long ago. “I’ve had a vision, and my mother, she had the same one as well.”

And they relayed to him what Gunnar had seen, under the guise of Daric and Signe’s powers; as non-Lycans, they would not be subject to the Lycan High Council’s influence.

The Alpha listened to them, not saying a word until they finished. The silence in the room was thick and heavy, until he did speak. “You haven’t spoken of your visions in a long time, Daric. And neither has your mother.”

“Anything we’ve seen in the last couple of decades haven’t been important enough to share.” The lie slid out of Daric’s mouth so smoothly that Cross would have believed it too.

“All right.” Grant folded his hands over his massive oak desk. “There’s nothing else you can tell me about your vision? How far into the future is it? Where did it take place?” Daric shook his head. “No clue at all?”

“I’m sorry … I’m just relaying the vision to you. I can’t control it.”

Grant’s jaw hardened. “I can’t just act on a vision—reliable as it may be. But, I think we need to learn more.”

“I completely agree, Alpha,” Daric said. “That’s why I’m going to send Cross on a mission. To find out more about the objects in the vision.”

The Alpha turned to him, his emerald green eyes turning dark. “And you’re okay with this? What about your work at Lone Wolf?”

Like most of the people in his extended family, Cross worked at his uncles’ private security firm, Lone Wolf Security, which was an offshoot of the larger Creed Security Corporation. “We’re going to tell them that Dad is sending me on an extended training session to help me gain more control of my powers,” he replied. The lie would be believable enough. After all, because his gifts were so complicated, he’d been studying and training with his father since he was thirteen. Daric himself had started when he was much younger, but then those were different circumstances. “I’m sure Uncle Killian and Sebastian will understand.”

Grant thought for a moment. “All right. You can go on this fact-finding mission, but this needs to stay between us. While we don’t want the same thing to happen last time, we can’t get everyone into a panic. The Lycan High Council should be notified as well.”

“You’re right of course,” Daric said. “But maybe we should wait until we have solid proof before informing the council.”

“Hmmm.” Grant tapped his fingers on the desk. “All right, proof first.”

After conferring on a few more details, Daric and Cross left, reappearing back in Gunnar’s cabin.

“Are you ready for this, Cross?” Daric asked.

If he were honest—not really. “You’ve trained me well, Dad.”

His father cracked a genuine smile. “And you’ve been an excellent student. I have every confidence in you. Now, let’s go see if Gunnar feels well enough to tell us more.”

When they walked into the bedroom, his brother was walking out to the bathroom, freshly showered and shaved. “How about some breakfast, son?” Daric asked. “What would you like?”

Gunnar rubbed a towel down his face. “Chinese food. Emerald Dragon’s egg rolls.”

“We’ll have it ready for you by the time you finish getting dressed.”

So so they did, and as they ate, Gunnar gave them as much detailed as he could about his vision. When they finished, Daric stood up. “I think I may have an idea where you can begin looking, Cross. But I need to check something out first. Don’t worry we’ll take care of all of this.” With that, their father disappeared.

“Do you need me to stay or get you anything, Gunnar?”

“Cross.” His brother’s hand snaked out and grabbed his wrist. “There’s something …”

Gunnar’s grip was deathly tight. “What is it? What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

“I … I didn’t tell you everything. About the vision.”

“What? Why would you keep anything from me and Dad?”

“It’s not you … it’s Dad.” He withdrew his hand and curled his shoulders inward, bent his head down. “I thought … I wasn’t sure if I should have told you but I think you should know something.”

“What is it?”

Gunnar slowly lifted his head. “Cross … that woman. In the vision.”

“What about her?”

“She’s there because of you.”

“Why?”

His eyes whiskey brown eyes turned dark. “Because she’s yours.”

“Mine?” His heart thudded in his chest. “What do you mean mine?”

“Your True Mate.” 

***

Three months later ….

Despite being called The City That Never Sleeps, Cross knew that New York, did in fact, sleep, at least pockets of it did. On this particular September early morning, this part of the Upper West Side was waking up—the garbage truck was chugging along, collecting bins left on the street, workers at the corner coffee shop were coming in for their morning shift, and of course, right on time—Deedee Creed, was hopping down the steps of her brownstone home, about to head into work. It had been months since he’d seen his best friend or even talked to her, so he thought he might surprise her and take her out to breakfast. Then maybe make plans for dinner with his sister Astrid. Growing up, they’re been a tightly-knit trio, and he’d missed their company after being away for so long.

She was just across the street, walking toward the subway stop on 86th, so he crossed the street and stepped onto the sidewalk, making a beeline for—

“Whoops! Pardon me.”

Someone had bumped right into him as he tried to cross the street. He whipped around, and saw that someone walking away from him, going the opposite direction as Deedee. At first he turned back to chase after Deedee, who was now turning the corner, but something made him turn around. It was the scent of apple cider and fresh snow. It made his inner wolf freeze, then raise its head in the air, sniffing for more of that delicious scent. The person that bumped into him—a woman, he realized—was nearing the other end of the street.

Before he knew it, he was walking toward her. She was wearing a light trench coat, and her hair was hidden under a cap. She turned uptown, and he followed her for a few more blocks, taking the trace scents of her, following it like breadcrumbs leading to … what exactly?

He stopped, realizing that he’d walked over ten city blocks following this woman. Some might say he was acting like a stalker. Rubbing a hand down his face, he made a motion to turn around when she stopped, then walked into one of the coffee shops along Amsterdam Avenue. His wolf urged him forward and he found himself reaching for the shop’s door when he looked up at the sign overhead. “Wicked Brew,” he muttered to himself. The logo of the coffee shop had, of all things, a silhouette of a witch on broomstick.

Instead of going in, he withdrew his hand and stepped aside when someone behind him cleared their throat. However, he couldn’t help but glance inside the shop. He saw the trench coat draped over the back of a chair in the corner, but no sign of the woman.

Quickly, he pivoted on his heel and walked away. His wolf scratched and whined at him. What is it? But his wolf didn’t exactly talk back. As he moved further and further away from the coffee shop, it quieted down, so he continued to walk, trying to clear his head of the apple cider and snow scent. He didn’t realize how far he’d walked or how late it was until he saw Columbus Circle up ahead.

“Damn.” Checking his watch, he knew he was going to be late for his meeting with his father and the Alpha unless he left right this moment. He ducked into the Time Warner Center, then headed towards bathrooms and into one one of the stalls. He pictured the Alpha’s office in his mind, imagining that spot behind him with the large windows that faced Central Park. And in seconds, he was there.

“Apologies, Primul,” he said, using the traditional honorific a Lycan used for his Alpha. “I was running late.”

The leather chair swiveled around to face him. “No worries Cross,” he said. “Have a seat.”

Daric, not surprisingly, was already there, sitting on the chair opposite Grant Anderson. He merely lifted a blond brow, but said nothing as Cross sat next to him. “I know you’re busy, so I’ll get right to it. As you know, I’ve been looking through the archives of several libraries around the world.”

“Did you find any more information?”

He looked at Daric, who gave him a slight nod. “Yes, Alpha. And I have reason to believe that the things that were in G—grandmother’s and dad’s vision are three artifacts that were owned by a powerful mage named Magus Aurelius.”

“Magus Aurelius?” Grant’s brows snapped together. “Never heard of him.”

“He lived over a thousand years ago, according to the texts I’ve read, though we can’t really take ‘thousand’ literally as the English translations can be tricky. It could be much older than that.”

“All right, so tell me more about this Magus and Aurelius and those artifacts.”

“A long time ago, Magus Aurelius controlled a large chunk of what we know now as Central and Eastern Europe. However, his subjects were rising up against him, with the help of the Lycans. He knew his reign was about to end, and so he hatched a plan to infuse his magic into three objects.”

“Why three?” the Alpha asked.

“Three is an important number in magic,” Daric said. “But please go on, Cross.”

“Magus Aurelius chose three objects and then sacrificed three hundred humans and three hundred Lycans so he could bind his powers into these objects.”

The Alpha leaned forward. “Then what happened?”

“I haven’t found the exact answer, but it seems he was defeated by the Lycans and the humans, but the artifacts were lost. However, they seem to resurface every now and then, and I’ve narrowed it down to three possible objects—a necklace, a blade, and a ring. Each one on its own has different properties and powers.”

“What kind of powers?”

Cross took out his phone and lay it on the table. He opened up his photo library and expanded an image he had taken from St. Catherine’s in Egypt of a pendant on an ancient papyrus scale. “The necklace is said to be able to to control a person.” Swiping to the next image, he zoomed in on a drawing of a short sword on delicate yellowed paper. “This was from the Khizanat al Qarawiyyin in Fez from one of their oldest books. The blade can create portals that can cross the world.” His finger hovered over the screen.

“And?” the Alpha  said. “The ring?”

“I don’t have much on the ring.” Cross swiped to the next image. It was a picture of a large book propped up against a shelf that was filled with chained books. “But this book written by a monk from the 1200s talks about a ring found in a village in Gaul. The people reported some mysterious events that no one could explain.”

“What kind of events?”

“Little things. Crops dying overnight and then a few hours later it was like nothing happened. Farm animals being found dead in the fields, but the next day they’d be roaming around again. They traced it to a woman in the village, whom they saw out in the middle of the woods. Witnesses say she had her hands over a dead deer, when the animal suddenly jumped up and ran away. They rounded her up and accused her of witchcraft. Said she had found a ring in one of the ancient cemeteries. Unfortunately, she mysteriously died and that was the last we’ve heard of the ring.”

“So this ring … it has the power of death?”

“Not just death,” Daric began. “Death and life.”

“If we’re even sure this the ring.” The Alpha rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “You’ll need to find out more.”

Cross nodded. “I already have some leads.”

“But, good job on the rest, Cross.” Grant rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I thought we had this mage business done and over with. But, we need to start making plans. Now, I haven’t to spoken to anyone else about this except Frankie and Lucas, but I’m thinking it’s time for me to retire.”

“Retire?” Daric seemed taken aback. “But the Alpha is a lifetime position.”

“It’s rare for an Alpha to retire, but it’s not unheard of. You have to remember, in the past, with so many wars and battles over territory, not many Alphas survived very long. Though if there is trouble brewing ahead …” His expression turned dark. “Frankie and I will have to have a long talk.”

“I’ll do my best, Primul.”

“I know you will, Cross. If anyone can find the ring, its the two of you. And once we have the artifacts,” the Alpha’s eyes grew dark. “We need to destroy them.”

Something about his words made Cross uncomfortable. But he knew it had to be done.

“But now.” Grant picked up his phone. “If you don’t mind …”

“Not at all, Alpha.” Daric gave him a quick bow of the head and turned to Cross. “Son, shall we head home and go over a few things?”

“I … need to take care of something at my apartment.” he said. “I’ll come by for dinner and surprise Mom, and then I’ll be here for a couple more days.”

“All right son, I’ll see you later.”

Cross waited for his father to disappear before he himself left. However, instead of transporting himself to his apartment, he reappeared in a small alleyway between a Chinese restaurant and a supermarket on 83^rd St. He traced his way back to Wicked Brew and hurried inside the door. The smells of coffee, pastries, sweat, and various colognes lingered in the air, making it hard to ferret out the scent of apple cider and snow. His wolf whined in disappointment.

It was silly anyway. Walking out of the coffee shop, he intended to fo back alleyway where he first appeared, but then changed his mind and walked toward the subway. After three months, it was nice to be back in the city. Truth be told, he’d never used his powers as much as he did while he was away traveling, so it was nice to just take his time. A long subway ride could be just the thing he needed.

His wolf didn’t like the dark, confined space of the underground station, but it was comforting in a way. There was a lot more to be done; his job wasn’t finished and he couldn’t be distracted now. 

***

“Good morning, welcome to Wicked Brew.” The cheerful young woman manning the cashier smiled as Cross stepped up to the front of the line. “Oh, welcome back. Just the usual?”

“Yes, please.”

“How about a pastry?”

He shook his head. “Just the coffee, please.”

She picked up a cup and scribbled on the side. “Black brew, no sugar, and just a bit of cream,” she repeated.

Cross handed her a bill. “Keep the change,” he said as he stepped aside. When the barista called out his order, he grabbed his cup and sat down on the empty chair in the far corner of the dining area.

This was crazy. He told himself that over and over again. He told his wolf that this was insane, but still, he found himself coming here every morning, for the last four days. It was a long way to come for a cup of coffee, but when he tried to reason with his wolf, it just wouldn’t listen.

You don’t even know if she’ll come back here. She might have gone in here on a whim. Still, the animal didn’t care.

He sipped his coffee, the minutes ticking by. By mid-morning after he’d had his second cup, he decided it was was time to leave. Not just the coffee shop, but New York. He had dinner with his parents every night since he got here, and Astrid even made an appearance last night when they all went to see Gunnar. Of course, she and their mother spent half the night bickering, but Cross knew it was because they were too much alike. When Astrid had to leave early because she worked night shifts as a security guard, Meredith started to moan and complain why she can’t just hold a regular job or go back to school, which of course irritated his sister. Astrid led an unconventional lifestyle, to say the least, but she had always marched to the beat of her own drum.

Yes, it was nice coming back and spending time with his family, there was work to be done. His contact from the Maletestiana Library in Italy had found that book he’d been searching for and asked him to come right away.

Ignoring the pleading whines of his wolf, he tossed the empty cup into the trash and strode toward the door. He pushed it open, but he was so distracted he didn’t see that someone had pulled on it from the other side at the same time.

“Whoah!”

Objects clattered to the ground as he collided into the other person, who stepped back. Peering down, he saw an easel, an empty canvas, and a bag that had fallen over on its side and spilled various paintbrushes and tubes of paint.

“Sorry, sorry,” he murmured as bent down to pick up the various items.

“No, it’s my fault,” said the feminine voice. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. I had this spark of inspiration, you see. The sky, it’s so blue and it made me think of pansies. My thoughts tend to wander, but that’s how I get my inspiration. Like I said, it just came to me. Like a spark. Ever had one of those?”

They reached for the same tube of paint at the same time and their fingers brushed together. A strange bolt of electricity ran up his arm. His wolf suddenly perked up.

“Oh. No. Not quite that kind of spark. Must be static, though.” She swept the tube back into the bag. “Damn. I hope I didn’t miss anything.” Long lashes blinked as she glanced around her. “That yellow ochre was my last tube. They always run out of it. You’d think Van Gogh and his sunflowers were coming back in vogue or something.”

“Miss?” The sun shone behind her, momentarily blinding him. However, the familiar scent of cider and freshly-fallen snow entered his nostrils and his wolf howled in delight. It was her.

“Hmmm?”

He hadn’t seen her face the other day and even now, her features were obscured by the large sunglasses she wore and a large hat covered most of her head. But that perfume was all he needed to recognize her. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He picked up the easel and canvas. “Are you an artist?”

“Well, trying to be,” she said. “Uhm, thank you.” She tried to get the easel and canvas from him, but he held it firmly. “Uh, can I have my things back please?”

“No. I mean …” God, what was wrong with him? While he wasn’t smooth with the ladies, he never was tongue-tied around them. “I’m really sorry for knocking all your things over. Can I get you a cup of coffee as an apology?”

Her tongue darted out of her mouth to lick at her lips, a move that send a surge of desire straight to his gut. “I suppose so.” She nodded. “Okay. If you don’t mind carrying—”

“Not at all.” He gestured for her to go in first, and he followed behind her. She headed for one of the tables in the corner and took off her trench coat, draping it behind the chair before she whipped her hat off. Long, lustrous locks of white blonde hair tumbled down her shoulders.

A strange feeling came over him—something like deja vu, but not quite. It was something else gnawing at him, or had been gnawing at him all these months. And that something was Gunnar’s voice, ringing in his head.

White blonde hair.

Surely that wasn’t an unusual hair color. He gripped the back of the other chair so hard he heard the wood creak. “What would you like?”

“Hmmm … I don’t know what I’m in the mood for. Something sweet maybe. I always need something sweet.” She sat down and put her bag down on the floor beside her, then took off her sunglass, placing it on the table.  “Caramel macchiato. Yes, that’s it. A caramel macchiato, please,” she said as she looked up to him. Her porcelain skin made her light eyes—a true violet color—stand out even more. “Uhm, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

Unusual eyes. Gunnar’s voice grew louder in his ear. Blue—no, they’re like amethysts.

He pivoted and headed for the cashier, giving her his order. Time seemed to slow down and there was a pounding in his temple as a vice-like grip wrapped around his chest. It was like walking in a dream, he couldn’t even remember picking up her drink and walking back to the table.

Her eyes went wide as he sat down and pushed the cup toward her. ”Thank you.”

You’re holding her and whisper something in her ear.

“Uh, are you okay?” Her soft voice knocked him out of his daze and he stared down at her. She was so lovely it made him ache. Softly rounded cheeks, delicate brows, sweeping lashes, and a straight, pert nose. The only imperfection marring her face was a mole under the right side of her mouth, but that only seemed to add character to her face.

“You have interesting eyes, you know,” she began.

“I do?”

“Hmm-hmm.” A dreamy expression crossed her face. “I’m trying to figure out what colors I’d use to get them just right. I think turquoise … no azure, with a touch of emerald. I’d have to try a couple of times to get the shade just right. And—” Her hand went to her mouth. “I’m rambling again, aren’t I? I always do that when I’m nervous … er, you know, you uh, you don’t have to sit here with me … I mean, unless you want to.” A blush swept across her cheeks. “You’re more than welcome to, ah …”

“Cross.” He sat down on the empty chair in front of her. “My name’s Cross. And you are?”

She’s there because of you.

“Sabrina.” She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Cross.”

She’s yours.

Taking her offered hand, he squeezed it firmly. He ignored the frisson of electricity racing up his arm because he could only focus on one thing.

On her ring finger was a silver band with a stone in the middle the color of blood.

Everyone dies.

 

A Touch of Magic

Releases March 25, 2020

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Shadow wolf

Book 7 of the True Mates Generations Series

 

CHAPTER TWO

Mika Westbrooke hadn’t even opened her eyes that morning when that dark heavy feeling came over her.

Today wasn’t going to be a good day. Most days were okay, some were good, some were bad, but she knew this particular day would be terrible.

She had stayed up the night before, willing herself not to sleep as if doing so would stop the inevitable that this particular day would bring. Exhaustion had come over her, and sleep eventually took over, which meant she had missed her alarm.

Any other day and she would have cursed and jumped out of bed, scrambling to get ready. But then again, any other day she would have never missed her alarm. As head of the Guardian Initiative, she didn’t have the luxury to dillydally, not when their missions were so critical.

Not today. Today of all days, she took her time. Sending Nick Vrost a message that she would be running late, she took her time getting ready, as the dark fog that seemed to surround her today made her move sluggishly, not caring about the time.

Eventually, she got herself out of her apartment in The Enclave, drove herself to the Brooklyn Bridge HQ, and finally made it into the office only an hour late. She told Nick to start without her, so she wasn’t surprised that they were already in the middle of the meeting when she walked into Lizzie’s office. Not wanting to disturb them, she quietly crept inside, but unfortunately, the first words she heard cracked the already precarious hold she had on her emotions.

“I’m more of a lover than a fighter.”

“You’ll follow orders, Delacroix,”

“I’ll follow your orders, but I don’t have any skin in this game, so don’t expect me to give more than I have to or give a rat’s ass about this war of yours.”

Anger reverberated in her chest. Who the fuck did this man think he was? Before she knew it, the caustic words flew out of mouth. “Actually, everyone’s got skin in this game. The goddamn mages are out to destroy every last Lycan on earth.”

And then something happened that caught her off guard.

Dark eyes slammed into her, making her … feel things she never thought she’d feel again. Never wanted to feel again, at least not with anyone new. Heat uncurled from her stomach, and first, she thought it was anger, but no. It was that uncomfortable feeling of need.

Get a grip, Westbrooke. He’s just another cocky male you’ll have to deal with.

This was normal, she told herself. Because the asshole in question making her feel this way was unusually good looking. Pitch-black hair that matched his eyes. Tight white T-shirt stretched over the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen. Tattoos covered what was exposed of his enormous arms. And, despite the dark beard that covered half his face, the grin making his sensuous mouth spread only made him more devilishly handsome. The man stood up and offered his hand.

Seemingly unperturbed by her reprimand, his smile grew wider. “Marc Delacroix, nice to make your acquaintance. And you are …?”

Ah, so this was Delacroix, Nick’s recruit. “Your boss,” she shot back, arms stiffly at her sides. “And your worst nightmare if I ever catch you slacking off.”

Now that wiped that infuriating smile off his face. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, cher. You don’t know anythin’ about me.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “I know enough about you, Delacroix.” Nick had briefed her, of course. She knew the entire story of how the Cajun had come to New York and how desperate he had been to leave his former clan. Quite simply, they had him by his balls. “I don’t care what you do on your off time, but when you’re here, you’re going to keep your head straight. A single mistake could cost the life of one my guys, and if that happens, I’m sending you back to whatever swamp you crawled out of.”

She could feel everyone in the room practically flinch at her words, and much later, she would see how harsh she was. But not now. She couldn’t take this maelstrom of emotion, not today of all days.

Delacroix’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Understood, ma’am.”

Her she-wolf scratched at her furiously. What the hell is wrong with you? “Welcome back, Jacob.” She pushed her wolf away, ignoring its protests. “I’m happy you decided to join us.”

He grinned. “Can’t let you guys have all the fun, now, can I?”

Mika was glad the youngest of the Martin siblings decided to join the Guardian Initiative, as they needed every advantage they could get. He’d been on her shortlist of candidates because of his powers but was disappointed to learn he’d been assigned to guard the newly crowned Queen Desiree. “Great. Now that I have everyone here, maybe we can get you up to speed and continue with our morning briefing.”

Meetings at the Guardian Initiative were informal affairs, as they didn’t really have the time or space to conduct elaborate gatherings. They usually met in her office upstairs, but she wanted to get this over with. “Let’s start with the bad news …”

Compartmentalization had never been a problem for her, something she’d been thankful for, especially in the last two years. That and the fact that she needed to do something—in this case, fight the mages—to keep her mind and hands busy or she would have sunk into a deep depression.

Today, however, she found herself distracted and annoyed. When Nick began to update them with news from the Alpha’s office, she couldn’t concentrate, as she felt like she was being watched. Turning her head, her gaze clashed with dark eyes. Heat crept up her neck, but she ignored him. But it didn’t do any good as she felt him staring at her, even if she didn’t look his way.

“.…for now, we’ll keep an eye on the situation.” Nick turned to her. “Anything else, Mika?”

“There’s the Russian situation.” Ugh, that particular subject was going to ruin her day further. “But that’s something you, the Alpha, and I need to talk about.”

“I’ll talk to him, and we can convene on the matter.”

“Great. Wyatt,” she began. “Get our new guys settled in. Jacob, I know you can stay with your parents, but we have living quarters here for anyone who wants to stay. It’s not a five-star hotel, but it’s clean and comfortable, similar to the ones at Fenrir.”

“I’ll take ’em,” he said eagerly.

“You just don’t want to live with Mom and Dad,” Lizzie snickered which earned her a dirty look.

“You’ll be staying there too,” Nick said to Delacroix.

“Lucky me,” the Cajun muttered. “And you, cher? Do we get to be neighbors? Perhaps I can borrow a cup of sugar sometime, oui?”

Desire shot straight to her core at the inviting tone of his voice. The nerve of this bastard! Ignoring him, she pivoted on her heel and walked out of Lizzie’s office. As soon as she was far away enough, she took a deep breath of the artificial air-conditioned air, trying to calm herself. Her inner wolf, on the other hand, paced back and forth, almost chastising her.

How could someone she’d only met barely an hour ago tie her up in knots and make her wolf behave strangely? She’d always felt at peace with her inner animal, but this was the first time it seemed defiant, like a teenager testing its boundaries. However, it was like she was the teen. All hormones and no sense.

It’s the lack of sex, she told herself. More than two years of celibacy was catching up with her. She was horny, and he was the first male she’d met that she wasn’t related to or had worked with in her capacity as head of GI. Not yet anyway. But that would change soon.

She must have been standing there too long because a group of people standing by the watercooler in the corner was staring at her. Narrowing her eyes, she shot them glares of reproach, making them scurry back to their cubicles. With a silent satisfied harrumph, she strode toward the elevators and jabbed the call button. As she waited, that feeling came over her again—that someone was watching her.

A frisson of excitement shot up her spine, but she ignored it. Her enhanced hearing could pick up his heavy footsteps coming toward her. “Come on you damned thing,” she muttered under her breath at the doors.

“Cher, I think we—”

Maybe God was looking down at her today because the silver doors slid open, and she hurried inside and pressed the button for the top floor. As she turned around, the sight of Delacroix’s surprised face was the last thing she saw as the doors shut.

With a relieved sigh, she leaned against the wall, pressing her forehead to the cool metal. What was it about him that made her both uneasy and thrilled? Why was her inner wolf acting so strange? God, this was the worst timing for her to be feeling this way. Please, not today.

 

Shadow Wolf

Releases Feb 18, 2020

PRE-ORDER NOW on Amazon

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(Goes up to 3.99 on release day)

 

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Subject to change

Shadow wolf

Book 7 of the True Mates Generations Series

 

CHAPTER ONE Part 2

It didn’t take too long for Delacroix and Jacob to settle their affairs in Zhobghadi. While they had been integrated into life at the palace, there was no one either would consider a close friend. They were well-acquainted with the Almoravid, the elite superhuman guards who protected the royal family, having been training with them, but the language barrier made it difficult to make friends.

There were two people that had been difficult to say goodbye to. The first was Princess Amaya, King Karim’s young sister. The princess had been distraught, as he and Jacob watched over her as closely as they did the queen, and she had come to think of them as “her” bodyguards and friends too. She had cried when she heard the news, and even begged them to stay, but eventually, she had accepted it, though only because Queen Desiree promised to bring her to New York for a visit during the holidays.

The second person was Ramin, King Karim’s ward, whom the two Lycans had taken under their wing. The young man was strong and ambitious, and was determined to join the ranks of the Almoravid some day. He and Jacob had trained the eager young man, and Delacroix could already tell that he would achieve his goal and maybe even become captain of the guard. Ramin took the news of their impending departure well, thanking them both for the the additional training and sparring that would surely help him within the coming months as he prepared for his exams.

There was a small, private feast in their honor the night before they left. The captain of the Almoravid had been there, as well as most of the palace staff that they worked with. There was much feasting and drinking, and during the after party, Jacob had merely shook his head and laughed at him when he had rebuffed the advances of a particular amorous and drunk handmaiden who tried to put her hands down his pants and gently nudged her away.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like women or sex. Once upon a time, he was up to his ears in willing women. And although he enjoyed the flirting and attention still, since he left Pont Saint-Louis, he kept his focus razor sharp on his eventual goal of freedom. Sure, he’d let Nick Vrost and the other Lycans think he was some kind of flirt, but the truth was, he hadn’t been with a woman for more than a year. Being considered a shallow man whore was just one more way he was supposed to blend into the background—stay out of sight, unimportant, and serve his time until he could gain what he wanted most. Sex and women were too messy, and there was a danger of forming an attachment that could distract him.

“You okay man?” Jacob asked.

Jolted out his thoughts, he turned to his companion. “Oui, mon ami.”

“We’re about to land.” The young man clicked his seatbelt on. “I can’t believe we’ll be landing in New York in a couple of minutes. Man, I’m going to miss living like this.” His hands gripped the soft, buttery leather of his seat.

Sebastian Creed himself had sent his private plane to pick them up, saving them to trouble of several connecting flights, seeing as Zhobghadi had no international airport. No expense had been spared on the interior of the plane, nor with the service and food. This was the only second time he’d flown private and probably the last. “Should have had one more glass of Champagne,” he joked.

Landing was smooth, and immigration formalities at the private airstrip in New Jersey where they landed had been conducted on-board as the plane sat on the tarmac. Gathering up his duffle bag, he followed Jacob out of the plane. As he descended down the steps, his gaze immediate went to the man standing next to the dark SUV, his arms crossed over his chest, obviously waiting for them. He was a couple inches taller than Delacroix and wore an expensive, well-fitting dark suit. He tried not to show any emotion as their eyes met, but it was hard not to bristle when confronted with those ice blue eyes that seem to bore into him.

“Welcome back.” Nick Vrost unfolded his arms. “Glad to see you both made it.”

His frosty gaze lingered on Delacroix, which made him snort loudly. As if he would back out on his word. A bargain was a bargain.

“Thanks for coming to greet us, Al Doilea,” Jacob said, using the honorific Lycans used for their Beta.

“Of course, though you might be disappointed to know I’m taking you straight to HQ. Your mother, in particular, was not happy you wouldn’t be coming home right away.”

Jacob winced. “I’ll be sure to visit her, er, soon.”

Delacroix suppressed a laugh. Mrs. Martin had seemed like a nice woman and all, at least from the short video chats where he’d said hello to her, Jacob felt smothered by his mother’s attentions. “I’m the baby of the family,” he had explained some time ago. “And she can’t seem to accept that I’m a grown man. Parents, you know?”

Actually he didn’t, but he didn’t say anything, since Jacob hadn’t known anything about his past at the time. Did he want a mother who would smother him with love and attention? At this point in his life, he wasn’t sure.

Vrost motioned for them to get into the SUV and soon they were already driving towards the city. “Are we headed to Fenrir Corp?” Jacob asked. The Fenrir Corporation building on Madison was not only the headquarters of the massive international conglomerate, but also unofficially, the New York Clan. Fenrir’s CEO, Lucas Anderson, was also their Alpha.

“Not quite.” Vrost didn’t elaborate, but kept his eyes on the road. As they approached the city, he couldn’t help but feel wonder as the skyline appeared ahead. While New York was only his temporary home, there was just something about it that was both intimidating and comforting, especially after a year of seeing nothing but sand for miles on end.

As the SUV emerged from the Lincoln tunnel, the vehicle went south, away from the Fenrir Corp building and The Enclave, the mini-city on the Upper West Side that served as the home for most of the New York Clan. He and Jacob looked at each other, but it was obvious Vrost would offer no other explanation.

They were soon in the trendy district of Tribeca, and the car turned east, the Brooklyn Bridge clearly ahead of them as they made their way through a maze of smaller side streets.

Delacroix frowned as they pulled into an alleyway with a dead end. “Where are we—mon dieux!”

Jacob, who had been sitting in the back, unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed the front seat.“Mr. Vrost, what the—”

Vrost remained cool and calm as he stepped on the gas and the SUV sped up—straight toward the wall.

“You’re crazy!” Delacroix closed his eyes and braced himself, waiting for the impact—but there was none. “What the fuck?”

The vehicle screeched to a halt and when he opened his eyes and saw they were very much unharmed and not flat as pancakes against a brick wall, let out a soft curse. “You didn’t think to warn us first?”

Cool as a cucumber, Vrost took off his sunglasses, his ice blue eyes filled with what seemed like amusement. “And miss all the fun?” He unbuckled his seatbelt. “Welcome to the secret headquarters of the Guardian Initiative, gentlemen. Secret being the operative word, hence why I couldn’t tell you where we were headed. The wall we went through was one of the many magical enchantments we put in place to hide this place from humans and the mages.”

As they exited the vehicle, Delacroix looked around. They seemed to be in some kind of indoor garage, the only source of light coming from hanging overhead industrial lights. Vehicles were parked next to the SUV, including several motorcycles, two vans, an armored military vehicle, and even a Winnebago.

“Where the heck are we?” Jacob asked. “I mean, what part of Manhattan are we? Are we even still in New York?”

Vrost cocked his head. “Follow me.” He led them toward an elevator in the corner and pressed his palm against the sensor by the door. After a soft whirr and a high-pitched beep, the doors opened. He pointed forward. “After you.”

They stood in the elevator as Vrost pressed the second to the last button on the panel. The elevator ascended and a few seconds later, the doors opened and they stepped out. The space looked like a normal office, with desks and computers and people typing away at keyboards in their cubicles. But from the energy in the air, it was obvious there was more to this place than what it seemed.

“Whoah!” Jacob hurried over to one of the large windows. “We’re in the middle of the water. And that’s New York. And Brooklyn’s over there.” He looked at Vrost, his eyes wide. “Are we—”

“In one of the stone towers of the Brooklyn Bridge, yes.”

Delacroix followed Jacob, and peered out of the pane. However, there was something strange about this window. He poked a finger at the window. “This isn’t glass.”

Vrost shook his head. “No, it’s not. When we decided this would be our headquarters, one of the problems we encountered was that the entire structure was solid, which was great for defense, but that meant we couldn’t see what was going on outside. Plus, it made the place pretty gloomy. So, we installed 4K screens that have a direct feed to the outside to mimic windows.”

“Cool.” Jacob tipped his chin. “So this place is our war room.”

“You could say that. This floor is central operations. Above us is the actual war room and command, while we have the training rooms and dorms in the two floors below us.”

“How did you fit all that in the tower?” Jacob asked.

“Magic,” Vrost explained. “Daric was able to find a magic spell that could expand the space on the inside. I don’t know how it works and it cost us a pretty penny, but worth it. This place is more secure than Fort Knox. Now, I need to introduce you to some people, though you already know most of them, Jacob.” He led them to one of the enclosed offices and opened the door. It was a small, cramped space, filled with PC towers of varying sizes along one two sides of the room and a wall of monitors in the middle. There was a single desk in the middle that had a laptop, and a large, beat-up leather chair turned away from them.

“You’ve reached Acme Proctologists, where we promise you thoroughly good time. How may I direct your call?”

Vrost’s gaze slid heavenwards in an exasperating manner and cleared his throat. “Lizzie,” he said in a warning voice.

“…no really, sir … that’s right. Would you like to make an appointment?” The chair swiveled around, revealing its occupant—a cute redhead with sparkling blue eyes full of mischief as she spoke into a cell phone. “You don’t have to be shy, sir. All our doctors are gentle.”

“Lizzie,” Vrost repeated.

The woman—more like a girl, really—bit her lip as she tried to smother a giggle. “No need to take that tone with me, sir. I already deal with assholes all day.”

“Martin.” Vrost warned.

Martin? Delacroix turned to Jacob, who only gave him the same exasperated look on Vrost’s face.

With a delighted cackle, the redhead put the phone down. “Wha—Oh! Al Doilea!” She shot up from her seat, then froze when her gaze landed on Jacob. “And—Oh my god! Runt, you’re home!” Her face turned from embarrassment to shock to excitement as she launched herself as Jacob, leaping up at him to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Runt?” Delacroix asked as Jacob tried to untangle the young woman from his body.

“I—getoffmeyoucrazywoman! Argh! Stop!”

“Awww, can’t I express how much I’ve missed my baby brother?” She let go of him then punched him in the arm. “Nice to see you, Runt.”

Jacob scowled and rubbed his arm. “Don’t call me that. I’m more than foot taller than you and outweigh you by over a hundred pounds.”

“But you’ll always be the baby of the family.” Her face scrunched up as she pinched his cheeks.

Vrost cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you all to get acquainted while I round up Wyatt and Mika.”

“Oh, of course, Mr. Vrost.”

The Beta gave Delacroix a warning look before turning on his heel and leaving the office. The redhead turned to Delacroix. “I’m Lizzie Martin, head of tech around here and Jacob’s sister.”

“So I gathered.” Jacob had mentioned he had two siblings, but didn’t give any more details. He shook the female’s hand. “Marc Delacroix.”

“I thought that’s who you might be.” Arctic blue eyes peered up at him. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Dressed in a short plaid skirt, a t-shirt with a cartoon alpaca on the front, and knee-high boots, she looked out of place here, but he’d learned long ago not to judge people by their looks. He turned on his megawatt smile automatically, and his eyes darted up and down her curvaceous body. “Funny. Jacob’s never mentioned his sister was so … interestin’.”

“Keep those eyes at an appropriate level, Delacroix,” Jacob warned. “Unless you want me to pull them out of your sockets.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes and then pulled something out of her pocket—a lollipop, which she proceeded to unwrap and sucked it into her mouth. “Please, Jacob. I can take care of myself. You know the last time a guy tried anything funny, he ended up on the FBI’s Most Wanted list.”

He took a step closer. “Ah, you are giving me a challenge then?” Her scent was pleasant enough—a sweetness that smelled generic but his Lycan senses detected the wolf in her and a hint of something different, similar to the way Jacob smelled. Probably the same thing that marked him as a hybrid, but it wasn’t enough to rouse his wolf, who, during all this time, remained passive and indifferent to their new surroundings.

“Oh, you charmer you!” Mirth made her arctic blue eyes light up. “You don’t want to mess with me. I can make you hurt in different ways.”

Which of course only piqued his curiosity. “Oh really?” He reached out to touch a lock of red hair intending to to brush it off her shoulder. “I—”

The low growl that followed made his hackles raise and pull his hand back immediately. Turning to the door, Vrost stood there with another man, who stalked into the room like a predator who found his next victim. He was at least half a foot taller than Delacroix, but just as wide though it was hard to tell with the way he seemed to puff out his chest and shoulders. Green eyes so light they were almost yellow blazed with an icy fury that was directed straight at him. Familiar eyes.

“Ahem.” Vrost stepped between them. “Delacroix, you’ve met Wyatt Creed before, haven’t you? He’s our operations manager.”

Wyatt Creed. Queen Desiree’s brother. Ah, that’s why he was familiar; he was practically a younger carbon copy of his father. He’d seen the man a twice in Zhobghadi—once during the wedding and another time after Prince Caspar was born—though had never spoken with him. The middle Creed offspring had a superior air about him that seemed to say he was too good to speak to anyone beneath him, like bodyguards and servants. Which had been a puzzle to say the least because the rest of the Creed family had been warm and friendly to everyone. He’d found Wyatt to be cold and stuck up, but never confrontational. What could have provoked him?

Lizzie pulled the lollipop from her mouth. “Can we get on with it, please? I have work to do.”

As the female turned on her heel and walked back behind her desk, Creed’s eyes tracked her movements. Huh. Definitely a piece of information he was going to put away for now.

“Where’s the boss?” Jacob plopped down on the nearest chair in front of Lizzie’s desk, so Delacroix followed suit and sat in front of him. Wyatt didn’t make a move from where he stood by the door, but merely crossed his arms over his chest, his entire body going stuff.

“Mika’s running late today,” Vrost explained. “But she told me to go ahead and start without her and she’ll catch up. So, you two, welcome back to New York.”

Nothing would have pleased Delacroix more than to wipe that smug smile off the Beta’s face. “Glad to be back,” he shot back.

Vrost seemingly ignored the sarcasm in his tone. “Now that you’re back, we need to get you up to speed as soon as possible. We are at war with the mages, make no mistake. With the defeat of Stefan the master mage thirty years ago, we assumed that they’d been eradicated. But as we know, they’d only been being their time, growing their strength and forces, recruiting among witches around the world. In some cases, they’ve taken entire covens, by persuasion or force. Not only that, they’ve been searching for the three artifacts of Magus Aurelius, magical objects that have so much power that could put the entire world under their control. They have one—the necklace that can control humans, and we have one, the dagger of Magus Aurelius, safely tucked away in a secret location, but they’re doing everything in their power to steal ours.

The Alpha has refused to stay passive and we’ve hunted down every mage coven we could find, but it’s like the more we take down, more spring up somewhere else. But between trying to find the last artifact, protecting ourselves and the dagger, and hunting down the mages, our forces are spread too thin. That’s why we’ve recalled you two.” His icy blue gaze, however, focused on Delacroix. “We need all hands on deck, if we’re going to end this war soon. Your abilities and your training with the Almoravid will be invaluable to us.”

An acrid taste built up in his throat. Once again, he and his abilities would be used and abused, made to fight in a war that had nothing to do with him. In leaving the Pont Saint-Louis clan for New York, he was only exchanging one master for another. At least in Zhobghadi, he had been at peace.

“You look like you have something to say, Delacroix.”

Vrost’s tone was chilly as his icy stare, daring him to object. But he couldn’t; the bargain had been made and the New York clan owned him for the next five years. However, he wouldn’t act like some obedient puppy, begging for its master’s approval. “Don’t make much difference to me one way or the other.” He stretched out on the chair languidly, placing his hands behind his head and ankles crossed in front of him.

“Delacroix’s job at the palace was mostly to sit and look pretty,” Jacob joked. “And cause fights among the queen’s handmaidens.”

“I’m more of a lover than a fighter. ” He wiggled his eyebrows at Lizzie, who ignored him in favor of scrolling on her phone. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle in awareness, like someone was staring at him, and he didn’t need to turn his head to know where those particular daggers were coming from.

“You’ll follow orders, Delacroix,” Vrost said in a warning voice. “If you know what’s good for you.”

Like he needed it rubbed in his face some more. “I’ll follow your orders, but I don’t have any skin in this game, so don’t expect me to give more than I have to or give a rat’s ass about this war or yours.”

“Actually, it’s everyone’s war. The goddamn mages are out to destroy every last Lycan on earth.”

The voice was low and husky and his entire body froze, as if a giant hand had seized him an iron grip. When his head swung toward the newcomer entering the room, the first thing he noticed were her eyes. Green, like the color of emeralds but the hardness of diamonds. Long, jet black hair was pulled back in braid that swung over one shoulder. She was of medium height and slim build, though her white button down shirt and black trousers didn’t hide the feminine curves underneath.

And then something strange happened. Something that, as far as he could remember, never happened before. His inner wolf perked up, and its attention fixed on her.

Who was this woman?

 

Shadow Wolf

Releases Feb 18, 2020

PRE-ORDER NOW on Amazon

ONLY 2.99

(Goes up to 3.99 on release day)

 

Raw and Unedited

Subject to change

Shadow wolf

Book 7 of the True Mates Generations Series

 

CHAPTER ONE

The longer he stayed here, the more Marc Delacroix realized that Lycans were not meant for the dry desert heat, and certainly not those who grew up in the wet, humid bayous of Louisiana. His inner wolf grumbled unhappily as a hot breeze hit them in the face.

Yes, it’s uncomfortable, but would you rather be back there?

The wolf lay down and let out a defeated whine.

Yes, the deserts of Zhobghadi were too dry, the sun too bright, and the temperatures unbearable. But he would rather be here than stuck back in the hellhole he had called a home.

“If you think any louder, you’ll wake Caspar up.”

Delacroix blinked. “Apologies, Your Majesty.”

Queen Desiree of Zhobghadi, formerly Desiree Desmond Creed of the New York Lycan clan, smirked up at him as she lay her infant son in his stroller, pulling the hood down to protect him from the blazing sun. “No jokes today, Delacroix? Are you sure you’re not sick?”

The gentle teasing in her voice made the corners of his mouth turn up involuntarily. “I’m feeling just fine, mon petite.”

Normally, he wouldn’t dare call the queen and mate to a dragon king such a nickname, but they were alone as they went for their mid-morning stroll in the royal gardens. Non, he liked his hide unburnt. But after a year of guarding the new young royal, they had certainly become close, along with another Lycan from her former clan, Jacob Martin.

When Desiree Creed became queen of the tiny independent nation of Zhobghadi, her father, Sebastian Creed, had asked that Delacroix and Jacob accompany his daughter in order to watch over her and ease her transition into her new life. It was not only a great honor, but now he had another powerful man ingratiated to him. While Delacroix was, technically, bound to the New York clan, he was allowed to go to Zhobghadi, with the caveat that he could be recalled anytime. That bargain he had struck with Nick Vrost, was rock solid.

“Then you’re worried about going back to New York.”

And now the piper had come for payment. Two days ago, Vrost had sent the message that he was to return to America ASAP, the join the Guardian Initiative, the special task force formed by the Alpha to fight their enemies.

“Me, worried?” He snorted to make his point. “I’ll miss this position. It’s practically a vacation.” Glancing over at the covered stroller, his thoughts turned to the young prince and heir, not even three months old. “Watching over His Highness is one of the cushiest jobs I’ve had.” Though the thoughts of his previous jobs tried to surface in his mind, he pushed them away. His wolf growled, but he managed to calm it down. “Now I’ll have to do real work,” he said with a forlorn sigh.

“And my female staff will miss your charming ways,” she replied in a wry tone. “Though I’ll be glad for the peace when you do leave. You know, you have every eligible woman in the palace sighing after you.”

“And I enjoy having them sigh after me.”

“Yet the only thing I hear are complaints about no one has yet to snag you.”

He wagged his eyebrows at her. “Ah, but with so many women, there is no need to choose just one, non?”

She raised a brow at him. “Did you choose any at all?”

“I don’t kiss and tell, mon petite.”

“So, you haven’t chosen at all.”

The comment came from nowhere and hit its mark, catching him so off guard that he couldn’t stop from wincing. Yes, he certainly wasn’t lacking in attention from women and he could have his pick of the beautiful women in the palace. Could being the operative word. “Any other employer would have complained that I would have been unprofessional if I went after every available female around.”

“I’m not just your employer, Delacroix.” Her expression turned serious. “I’d like to think I was your friend, too.”

Though they—him, the queen and Jacob—had never mentioned it out loud, there had been a friendship between them since the beginning that didn’t have to be said. “I’m lucky you count me as a friend, Majesty.”

She sighed. “And there goes that wall up again.”

“Wall?”

Hand on her cocked hip, she stared at him. “You have this easy going charm that most people fall for. Most think you shallow and that there’s nothing underneath that smile, especially with the way you flirt with anything in a skirt. But, you can’t fool me. I’ve known you too long, Delacroix. And I know what I saw and what I felt when you took me into the shadows.”

“I am shallow.” It was almost automatic, the way his defenses came up. The smile on his face widened so much that he thought his face would crack. “There’s nothing more to say.”

“I’ve been around your kind my whole life. Why won’t you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“What you are,” she stated. “You’re a hybrid. Half Lycan, half warlock. That’s why you can do magic.”

He huffed, but did not answer her. Usually, he parried inquiries about his nature, but then again, no one had ever asked him directly.

“I know the council views your kind warily,” she continued. “But it’s not like anyone’s going to treat you differently. My best friends are hybrids and use their powers to protect our kind. Is it so bad to admit it?”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything. Yes, powers could be wielded for good, but they could also be abused.

“C’mon, D. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed,” he stated.

“Then what’s wrong? Why won’t you just say you’re a hybrid and be done with it? It’s obvious that’s why Vrost recruited you.”

Recruit. Right. “It’s not what you think.”

“Were your parents … did something happen to your witch or warlock parent, which is why you didn’t realize you were a hybrid?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Her expression was genuinely puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I never knew them.” He swallowed hard, feeling his wolf go still at the mention of his parents. “I was orphaned and taken in by the Pont Saint-Louis clan. If I am what you say I am, then there would be no one to confirm.” In fact, he’d never met a hybrid until he’d been paired with Jacob, who had the ability to create and manipulate fire.

A gentle hand landed on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—Oh God, I’m so insensitive! I thought you were just being mysterious.”

He hesitated, but he trusted her. And he would be gone here in a few days, so there would be no harm in revealing more. “I was about nine or ten when the shadows … called to me.” It was difficult to describe the feeling. It was like a pull, small at first, but growing bigger each day. The dark corners, whispering his name until he couldn’t ignore it. “I … disappeared into the shadow of this big oak tree on clan property. Then I reappeared a few feet away, from the shadows of an old shed.”

“You must have been scared.”

Actually, he wasn’t. It had felt right. However, it was what happened after that was all wrong. When it had been discovered what he could do … well, Remy Boudreaux was a bastard, and the fact that Delacroix was a child didn’t matter to him. No, he only only cared about getting what he wanted, even if it meant making others do his dirty work.

Delicate brows drew together and her light green eyes pleaded at him. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. I understand why you might not want to talk about it. But your abilities … they could turn this war around for us.”

This damn war with the mages, he growled inwardly. Granted, it was the mages who sought the destruction of his kind, and the Lycans were just trying to defend themselves. Still, he thought leaving his old clan behind would end the fighting and bloodshed. When he had made that pact with Nick Vrost, he didn’t realize he would be exchanging one master for another. The violence was exhausting and he’d already paid so many times, as if his very nature was a crime. When would it be enough?

“But he doesn’t want to go.”

The sound of the low, masculine voice never failed to make his wolf uneasy, and if he were honest, himself. Turning toward the source of the words, he straightened his spine and bowed his head. “Your Majesty.”

King Karim stood in the entryway to the garden, dressed in his formal military tunic decorated with medals on the chest. His mere presence agitated him and his wolf, even after all this time, which was probably because, the king was one of the only two dragon shifters in the world. The power he held—both as ruling monarch of Zhobghadi and the animal he kept tightly reigned in himself—would have cowered anyone, yet the moment his gaze landed on his queen, he was a completely changed man. The seriousness on his face disappeared, leaving only tenderness and warmth.

“Habibti,” he murmured against her temple as he walked to her and bent down. “How is your day?”

“I’m great.” She leaned against him, and his posture relaxed. “Caspar is napping,” she nodded at the stroller next to her.   

“Don’t wake him up, he’ll only get cranky later.” He turned to Delacroix, his face turning serious again. “I could ask Vrost if he could spare you for another year, at least until Caspar’s first birthday. I’m sure Creed could speak on your behalf as well.”

“That’s mighty kind of you, Your Majesty.” He tipped his chin down reverently. “But it would only delay the inevitable.”

“I hate that now I must lose two of my trusted guards,” the king grumbled.

As soon as Delacroix received his marching orders from Vrost, Jacob had elected to go back to New York, not just to go back to his job at Lone Wolf Investigations, but to join the Guardian Initiative as well. He reasoned that it was time for him to go back home and that he was bored with life at the palace and wanted to be in the thick of the action. Delacroix wished he was as eager to fight, but he was glad his one true friend was going back with him.

“I am curious though.” King Karim’s blue eyes pierced into him. “What made you decide to pledge to New York?”

“He’s not pledged yet,” Queen Desiree explained. “He’s a transfer, and unless he’s a legacy transfer—meaning he had a parent or grandparent originally in the clan—it takes a few years. Five or six, I think.”

“Five. I was a few weeks in before I came here. It was made clear to me by Vrost that my time here would not be counted.” But, as soon as he reached New York soil, he would certainly be counting down to the last second until it was over. The reason he didn’t mind going back was that the sooner he could start his service to the New York clan, the sooner he could finish it.

“So, why the move?” the king repeated. “What did Vrost offer you that your original clan could not?”

Delacroix pursed his lips, wondering what was the most diplomatic way he could tell the monarch to mind his own business.

“Darling.” Queen Desiree placed a hand on his chest. “I think we’ve asked enough questions. How about we head back to our apartments and we can have coffee until Caspar wakes up after his nap?” Keen light green eyes turned to Delacroix. “Can you meet me at the Eastern doors at half past two? I’ll need you to accompany to my meeting at the University.”

The tightness in his chest eased, and he was grateful to the queen for not making him reveal any more about his past. He had already revealed more to her than he had to anyone, and it was vital no one knew about his life before now. About the things he’d done. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

“Are you coming back with us?” King Karim asked with a cock of his head

“I shall follow, Your Majesty. I would like to enjoy the desert air for a few more moments.”

The king’s brows knitted together, but said nothing as he led his wife and child back into the palace.

Delacroix turned around, turning his face up to the bright burning sun. Yes, he would miss this place. In the short time he’d been here, he’d become comfortable living in Zhobghadi. It was far removed from anything he’d known and if anyone had told him what his life would be this way a few years ago, he wouldn’t have believed them.

But this place wasn’t home. He couldn’t even dare dream of it as such, or any place, really. The bayou wasn’t home, and New York would never be home. New York was a way out. Many Lycans would have given their right arm to have been given an opportunity to be part of a powerful clan, but as soon as he was freed from his obligation, he would leave and become a Lone Wolf.

Not many Lycans could keep up with such a lifestyle—not having a permanent place to live or a clan to support them, constantly trying to pass as human. But the Lone Wolf life had something no clan could give him—freedom. The freedom to do what he pleased, when he pleased. Because he’d rather die than be under the thumb of any Alpha. Never again. And his wolf agreed wholeheartedly.

 

Shadow Wolf

Releases Feb 18, 2020

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