Raw and Unedited

Subject to change

daughter of the dragon

Book 6 of the True Mates Generations Series

 

CHAPTER TWO

The humungous beast’s wings spread wide as it flew, shadowing most of the city below. Such a sight would have brought fear in the hearts of anyone, but in Zhobghadi, The Great One’s form overhead brought comfort to its citizens, knowing their guardian was watching over them.

The long, spiked head stretched and opened its great maw to let out a deafening roar. Leathery wings snapped in wind as it swooped low, turning gracefully before heading back in the direction of the capital city, toward the largest structure in the entire country—a massive palace made of dark brown brick and decorated with gold. Near the topmost tower was a colossal balcony, big enough for the great beast to land on. But it was not scaly, talon-tipped claws the size of elephants that landed on the tile, but completely human ones.

“How was your flight, Your Highness?”

Prince Karim Idris Salamuddin took the offered robe and wrapped it around his naked, heated body. “Tiring,” he grunted, then shook his head. A prince of Zhobghadi would never say that. He could almost hear his father’s voice in his head chastising him. A prince should always act confident, commanding and never show any sign of weakness.

However, he was talking to Arvin, his older cousin and most trusted Vizier, and possibly the closest thing he had to a friend growing up, so perhaps some informality between them was permitted.

“I don’t know how your father did it, at seventy-five years of age.” Arvin shook his head. “He was doing it up until—”

When his cousin stopped, he continued. “Until last year.” Before his untimely death. “I don’t know either, but you know the old man was stubborn as a camel.”

It was important work, his father had said. It is my duty as their king and the bearer of The Great One to reassure them that our enemies will never defeat or capture us.

It had been a millennia since any threat had come close to taking over Zhobghadi. Still, tradition was tradition. Since the first time the sand storms came, every year the king calls upon the beast residing in his body to protect the city, flying overhead from midnight until dawn to scout for enemies. It was the will of the gods, of course. For they were the ones that sent the Easifat—the sand storms—to form a magical protection over the city as well as blessing the royal family line with The Great One.

Karim guffawed. Blessed. Right.

Of course, no enemies had ever come back since that first time, a thousand years ago. And as civilizations rose and fell, no other nation enslaved Zhobghadi, so perhaps the it was only right to keep up tradition as thanks to the gods.

But, it was a bloody exhausting tradition. And today was only the first day of many. How he wished he was back in Scotland with his friend. Duncan MacDougal had welcomed him, despite the unexpected visit and his own troubles. Karim had to chuckle to himself thinking of Julianna Anderson and what a merry chase she’d be leading his erstwhile playboy friend. He wished them both well, as he had a feeling that Julianna was definitely Duncan’s match.

“You did well,” Arvin noted as he gestured for them to head inside. They passed through the large, arched doorway leading into the living area of Karim’s suite of rooms. “Your father would be proud.”

Karim sorted as he walked over to the side table and poured himself a glass of water from a brass pitcher. “I’m sure he would have some criticisms. Perhaps my flight path was not efficient. Or I hadn’t changed fast enough. Or I took too long.” He took a long swig of the cool liquid. Of course no one was harder on Karim than himself, even though it had been less than a year since his beast was unlocked and he assumed The Great One’s full form. Despite the fact that he had shared his body with an animal his entire life, the transformation could only be completed once the previous bearer passed away. It was an unwieldy body, and he sometimes still struggled to control it.

“And is that why you haven’t taken the throne? Because you think he would have criticisms?”

The glass was still on his lips, but he stopped swallowing and slowly put the glass down. “Only you would say such things to me.”

Arvin grinned at him. “Of course. I’ve known you since you were in diapers.” He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his dark eyes as Karim. “Well? You didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s not.” He gestured toward the door. “The throne lies empty and you are the Crown Prince. Therefore, it’s only logical that you take your rightful place as king. It’s not right, during this holiest time of the year that you are the bearer of the Great One and—”

As if on cue, the beast—The Great One, as the people of Zhobgadhi called it—roared inside him. Heat burned under his skin, and he knew his own eyes were glowing silver, the same color as his beast’s scales.

“And I can do my duties during the Easifat without being king. There’s no need for me to wear the crown.”

“There is every need.” Arvin stepped back. “But it’s not my business. I am only one of your subjects, after all.”

Karim threaded his fingers through his hair. “You know you are more than that. Otherwise, neither father or I would not have appointed you to your position.” As Vizier, Arvin ran the day-to-day operations in the palace, similar to a Chief of Staff. When the old Vizier had retired ten years ago, it was Karim who suggested Arvin for the position and King Nassir had agreed. His cousin had been Vizier ever since.

“And I’m grateful for the honor.” Arvin nodded his head in a small bow. “You only have a few hours to sleep before your first meeting.”

“I’ll be fine. An hour’s all I need.” Indeed, that was one of the perks of sharing his body with the creature. Even in human form, he could draw strength and stamina from the beast if needed, and he could recover from fatigue and injury quicker than any ordinary human. “But I am eager to clean up.”

“How about some food? I can have Ramin bring you something.”

“I’ll be fine. But—” he glanced around, “where is the boy, anyway?”

“He’s hardly a boy at seventeen years old,” Arvin said. “Hmm … he’s usually around here, waiting for you. I’ve never seen a more loyal valet. But I suppose you inspire that in him. He idolizes you.”

Karim let out a grunt. “I should have never let my father convince me to take him on.”

“And what would you have done?” Arvin asked. “Toss him out on the street?”

“Ramin is a ward of the Royal Family,” Karim pointed out. “He could have done anything with his life once he finished his schooling here, like studied abroad or opened a business.”

“Yet he chose to stay and shadow you as as his valet. You know he’s only waiting until he’s old enough to join the military. Then he’s going to apply to be part of The Almoravid,” Arvin said, mentioning the elite guard who protected the royal family of Zhobghadi.

“It is not a glamorous life.”

“Would you blame him though?” Arvin asked. “He only wants to repay you. You saved him from—”

“Bah.” Karim waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “I’m tired. I’m sure the boy will turn up when I awaken.” He didn’t bother to say goodbye to Arvin, but marched into his rooms without a backward glance. It was his privilege, after all, as Crown Prince.

Heading straight to the opulent bath area, he decided against a long soak in the huge tub and opted for a quick shower instead. After finishing his business, he leaned against the marble and gold sink, looking up at his reflection in the mirror. Weary cerulean blue eyes looked back at him. It was an unusual color for a Zhobghadian, but then again he had gotten it from his English mother.

Not liking where his thoughts were going, he turned away and headed back to his bedroom. It was dark and a shadow fell over the enormous bed. Numerous soft pillows formed lumps under the silk sheets, and but the bed was big enough that he found an empty spot where he was able to lay down and stretch out. In seconds, his eyes shut and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

But it wasn’t dreamless. No, he definitely did dream. And what a delicious dream it was—that of curling up against a soft, warm body. Of the scent of something sweet, like the rich desserts he loved as a child, but with a touch of burned sugar. And plush flesh pressed up against his hardening cock. It had been too long since he’d had a woman,[Alicia Mo1]  which was probably why the dream was so vivid.

His dream woman turned, sighing softly. Again, it seemed so real that he could feel the warmth of her breath. Wanting more, he moved his head a fraction of an inch forward, until his lips met velvety ones.

A spark of electricity nearly made him pull back, but the The Great One awoke in him.

More. Mine. Ours.

The voice was alien in his head, but at the same time, not. He’d had the creature—a dragon, his mother had called it—inside him since he could remember, but he’d never heard it speak.

Claim.

Strange, but that’s when he realized it wasn’t a dream.

Still, he could not stop himself. He was like a man dying of thirst in the desert who found an oasis. He kissed—no, devoured—those lips like they were his salvation. And they responded back in kind. Or their owner did. Small hands crept up his bare chest, fingers gripped his shoulders as his tongue snaked out and parted her lips to taste more of her sweetness.

A few women had snuck into his bed before, and usually, he threw out anyone uninvited. But he just couldn’t bring himself to stop. Moving his body over hers, he pinned her to the mattress. She didn’t protest his weight; in fact, she moaned into his mouth and spread her legs to accommodate him. There was only fabric between them, which was probably her clothes as he was naked. His cock strained against her and she gasped.

“What—I—no!”

He blinked, the words making him freeze. Limbs disentangled rom him and he saw a the figure quickly crawled away to the edge of the bed, just as he surged off the mattress and slammed his palm on light switch.

“Who the heck are you?” she shouted in English.

Karim didn’t know if he was going to laugh or shout. “Who am I? I should be asking you that, seeing as you are in my bed?”

“Your … bed?”

With the room filled with light, he was finally able to see the dream—or rather, not-dream woman. Light brown hair tumbled down her shoulders like ribbons of rich toffee. Tanned skin that he knew was soft to the touch. Pouty pink lips that were still swollen from his kisses. But what made him momentarily forget who he was were those eyes—a green so light they were almost yellow,.

“Yes, my bed.” He managed to scrounge up every bit of authority he could muster. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?”

“I’m—” Her lips pouted and her mouth went wide. Even under her tan he could see her flush, and those light eyes turned away from him. “Uhm, would you mind putting on some … pants or something?”

He glanced down, only realizing that he was naked as the day he was born, not to mention, his erection was practically jutting out like the tower of Babel. Quickly, he grabbed the first thing he could—a pillow—and planted it over his hips. “Now, tell me who you are and how you came here.”

“I … “ She shook her head. “I’m Professor Desiree Desmond Creed, from New York University.”

An American?

“My archeological team and were on a site just forty miles outside the Pakistani border. I was going for a walk after dinner to …” A gasp escaped her mouth and she ran her fingers through her hair. After checking her fingers, she let out a sigh of relief. “I was hit in the head by … I mean, I was injured and then the sand storm came before I passed out.”

Injured? The Great One roared in displeasure.

Opening his mouth, he took a deep breathe. When he focused his sense of smell and taste and ignored her delicious sweet scent, he realized that it was there, tinging the air. The scent of dried blood. Someone had hurt her! He wasn’t sure if the growl that was rattling in his chest was from The Great One or him.

“Then I woke up … here?” She glanced around. “Where am I again?”

“You’re in Zhobghadi,” he said.

“Zhobghahdi?” She cocked her head at him. “But how?”

“You don’t remember how you got here?”

“No … I mean.” Her eyes shut tight. “Maybe … I felt like I was being carried. And there was a long corridor and I thought I saw something silver on the walls shaped like a … snake?”

He knew exactly what she was describing. And the one person who could possible have brought her into his room. “Wait here.”

“Wait? What do you mean—”

Turning on his heel, he didn’t wait for her to finish as he strode out of his bedroom and crossed the living area to the main door. Yanking it open, he barked to the member of The Almoravid standing guard, “Find me the boy and bring him inside.”

The guard saluted him with a fist over his heart, then bowed as he ran down the hallway. It didn’t take him to long to come back, pulling along another figure, and pushed him inside the living room before closing the door with a loud thud.

The boy—almost a man, Karim reminded himself—looked up at him, his midnight eyes growing wide. He didn’t need to ask. The look of guilt was plastered all over young man’s face.

“What have you done?”

Ramin’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down his skinny neck. “Highness. I had no choice.”

“No choice?” Karim thundered. “You brought a woman—an outsider—into the city during our most sacred time, and snuck her into the palace using the azdaha passage?” The tunnel that ran under the palace and led out to of the city walls was a secret that only the royal family new about. The woman had accurately described the long mural that stretched along its walls—the first Great One, with its long silvery body—which clued him in on who could have brought her in. “I told you about that passage in confidence!”

“And I have not told anyone,” he protested. “I thought she was unconscious the entire time, your highness.”

“And you brought her here? Why?”

Ramin’s youthful face had turned dark, and it the shadows he thought were banished from his eyes had returned. “She was in danger. I had to help her.”

“In danger?”

“She was being attacked. I pulled the man off her and I took her far away. He … he would have dishonored her the way my mother was nearly done so. Before you stopped that man who murdered her.”

Fury rushed through his veins like the fire and flames The Great One spewed. Memories rushed back from nearly a decade ago. When he had been sneaking out of the palace and a blood-curdling scream had brought him to a house down in one of the poorer neighborhoods of the city. That man—Ramin’s great-uncle—had beaten the boy’s newly-widowed mother to death for refusing his advances. And Ramin had witnessed it all.

And someone had tried to do it to that woman. No wonder the boy went crazy, the memories probably triggering him. By the fires of Gibil, he didn’t even know her name, yet he wanted to burn the world to ashes for what she had nearly suffered. And find that man who hurt her and let The Great one devour him.

“She needed help. Protection.” Ramin gulped and lowered his gaze. “Highness.”

“And so you brought her here.”

“You will protect her. The Great One protects all.” Ramin dropped to his knees. “Forgive me, Your Highness.”

Karim let out a string of curses under his breath. Arvin had been right—Ramin idolized him, for getting justice for his mother’s death, for taking him in as his ward and providing for him. And now he thought Karim could save everyone, too. He wanted to laugh. He was a prince yes, and the bearer of The Great One, but in truth, Karim knew, he was no noble protector. He was just another man.

But what to do now?

“How did you find her anyway? She said she was right outside our borders.”

“I was out, highness.”

“Out?” Karim roared. “You know you are supposed to stay in the city during the Easifat! What if the sand storms arrived and you were locked outside?.”

“I made it just in time.” Ramin looked up at him to meet his gaze. “Besides, the Almoravid patrol the borders during the Easifat.”

“They are trained to do so and carry the necessary equipment to ensure they can navigate safely. You are not one of them.” His teeth were gnashing together so hard, he thought he would grind them to the gum. “And you have not gone through the blooding ceremony,” he said, referring to the ritual that all of the Almoravid endured to ensure they could effectively serve the royal family. “You could have been hurt.”

“I took every precaution, highness.” He slipped something out of his pocket—sand goggles that were specially made for sand storms, as well as face mask to cover the nose and mouth. “The goggles allowed me to make my way back and I put the mask on her to protect her lungs while I carried her back.”

“How did you even—Never mind.” Ramin was smart and resourceful, so he wasn’t surprise he had gotten his hands on the special gear. And he had also saved that woman’s life. The woman who was still in his bed, looking vulnerable and at the same time, so alluring. Mentally, he shook his head. That was not the point. “Outsiders are forbidden in Zhobghadi during this time.”

Ramin didn’t say anything, but merely prostrated himself. “Forgive me, Highness. Don’t send me to the dungeon, please.”

Karim sighed. “Get up. Come, you have put us into this situation, and you will help me fix it.”

 

DAUGHTER OF THE DRAGON 

Releases Dec 4th, 2019

PRE-ORDER NOW on Amazon

ONLY 2.99

(Goes up to 3.99 on release day)

 

Raw and Unedited

Subject to change

daughter of the dragon

Book 6 of the True Mates Generations Series

 

CHAPTER ONE

Desiree Desmond Creed, Deedee to her friends, placed her hands on her hips. I never thought I’d be in a mess like this, but here I am.

And how did she end up here? Well, as it did with most stories, this one started with a boy.

Er, man, really.

But she had known Cross Alexander Jonasson since he was a boy, and she was a girl. Indeed, their mothers were best friends and they were born months apart. They grew up together. Playmates. Neighbors. Best friends, along with his sister, Astrid. Heck, they even experienced their first shift into their Lycan forms the same summer.

And when she was of that age when girls started to notice boys, she noticed Cross.

How handsome he was.

How tall he was—which was rare especially after her unfortunate six-inch growth spurt at fourteen.

And how nice he was to her. He knew everything about her and she knew everything about him.

At least she thought she did.

So, after years of unrequited pining, she had hoped to make it … well, requited.

But as it turned out, it wasn’t.

In a fit of passion—or perhaps, the thought of the end of the world coming—she confessed her feelings to him. Which turned out to be unequivocally unrequited.

“I’m sorry, Dee. I love you, but only as a friend.”

And so, with her heart trampled, she did the only logical thing: run away halfway across the world.

Which is how she ended up lost in the desert, somewhere in between the border of Afghanistan and Pakistan, in the midst of an impending sandstorm.

Her inner she-wolf huffed. Nope, it definitely did not like sand. It had taken to great exception,  stuck out in the desert for nearly six months. Her wolf hated the dry, hot weather, instead longing for fertile brown earth and lush greenery.

Her inner animal didn’t understand anything about its human counterpart. Didn’t know what it was like to rise up in a field dominated by men. It didn’t care that Deedee was a highly sought after archeologist. And most of all, didn’t comprehend why one male could cause her so much distress that when the offer to lead her own team on a year-long dig across the Middle East came, she grabbed the chance, if only to put some distance between herself and the man who broke her heart.

However, she had to admit Cross wasn’t the reason she ended up in this exact predicament. No, that honor went to Charles Hanford—Dr. Charles Hanford, PhD—professor emeritus from Cambridge University and all-around creep. White-haired, distinguished, and a superstar in the archeology world, one would have thought a man with two doctorates would have a better time than chasing after a woman half his age. Before he retired, she’d met Dr. Hanford at several industry conferences. Female colleagues had warned her about him—Handsy Hanford, he’d been nicknamed.

She thought it couldn’t be true. But a year ago, during the second night of the European Archeological Institute’s yearly conference in Rome, Dr. Hanford had cornered her during the after party at one of the suites, trying to get her alone. When she feigned jet lag and said she wanted to go to bed, he had insisted on walking her back to her room. And when he tried to get, well, handsy, she could barely control her inner she-wolf from coming out and ripping him to ribbons. She somehow managed to break free of his grasp and close the door behind her, locking the deadbolt just in time.

That was the last she’d seen of him. Or so she thought. When the dean of the Archeology department of New York University—where she’d work as a professor and had given her this generous grant to study the migration patterns on the people of Mesopotamia—came to visit, he brought an ‘old friend’ along—Dr. Charles Hanford, PhD.

Her she-wolf growled. It hated Dr. Hanford as much as it hated the desert. Hated the offending, cloying cologne he wore, the way he licked his lips, and how his eyes sometimes never went above Deedee’s chin. And of course, hated that he had dared touch Deedee without invitation. Her inner animal was a protective thing, after all.

Which is why, rather than endure another moment in Hanford’s company tonight, Deedee decided to take a walk just outside where their camp after their evening meal. Her assistant—a young intern named Melanie Ryan—gave her a strange look, but said nothing as she ducked out behind the work tents and headed straight to the desert.

However, she’d only walked for about ten minutes when the she heard that voice that made her cringe.

“Deedee?” came Hanford’s voice. “Where are you?”

Son of a seasbiscuit! She had been pretty sure no one saw her leave the camp. Picking up her steps, she marched ahead into the desert, guided only by moonlight, not caring where she was heading.

All of a sudden, inner wolf alerted her of danger. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and even in the darkness of night she could see it up ahead—a sand storm, swirling around like a living wall.

“Deedee! Oh Deedee.”

Fudge nuggets, the man was persistent. But seeing as she had a choice of facing the sand storm or Hanford, she decided he was the lesser evil.

“Dr. Hanford.” She spun around. “What are you doing out here?”

With her enhanced vision, she could the look of glee on his face. “Deedee. There you are.”

Oh, how she hated the sound of her nickname on his lips. Despite the many times she’d subtly insisted he call her Professor Creed, he ignore her.

“Yes, here I am.”

His tongue darted out and as usual, his eyes went straight to her generous bustline. Her immediate instinct was to cover them with her arms, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Unfortunately, along with her growth spurt came a growth of another kind, and needless to say, the cruel nickname of “Double Dees” followed her all throughout middle school.

Hanford took two long strides to come up to her, and they were nearly nose to nose. “Deedee, my dear, I wanted to have a private word with you.”

“Is it about my research?” she feigned. “Dean Thayers has all my notes if you’d like—”

“No, no my dear.” Ugh, his breath still smelled like the baked beans they had for dinner. “It’s about … Madrid.”

“Oh?” Her heartbeat quickened, and her wolf was chomping at the bit at the reminder of that night. She reigned it in, since despite her personal feelings on the matter, there was just so much to lose. Her job, her grant, her standing in the Archeological community. After all, who would everyone believe—a distinguished professor with decades of experience, or a nobody and a woman to boot. It just wasn’t worth it. Besides, she didn’t report him or say anything to anyone, so hopefully he wasn’t going to press his luck. “What about Madrid?”

Something in his expression changed, and his mouth drew up into a grin. “I’m guessing you must have been really tired that night.” His fingers traced up her arm. “But if you’re not too tired tonight.”

She really was tired. Tired of his stares, and innuendos and of him. Maybe she’d let her she-wolf out tonight. “Yes, I was. And it’s been a long day.” She wrapped her hand around his wrist and pulled it away. “So, Dr. Hanford, I’d really appreciate it if you would leave me so I can unwind.”

There was a brief moment of shock on his face, but was quickly replaced by a smile. “Unwind? Why didn’t you say so? We can unwind together.”

Pure shock that made her freeze as his arms came around her, pulling her body against his. “Oh Deedee, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he breathed against her mouth.

Before he could mash his lips to hers, she turned away, his slimy lips and tongue landing on her cheek. “Dr. Hanford! No!” Her she-wolf growled, fangs bared, but she kept a tight reign on it. Pushing him away with all her might, sending him to the ground. However, the force made her  stagger back. Her heel tripped over something on the ground and she found herself landing on her back.

“Deedee,” Hanford growled angrily. “No one says no to me,” he snarled. “Not if they still want a career in the academe.”

He leapt on top of her, his arm raised. In a split second, she saw something large in his hand—a rock maybe—and then a pain shot through her head.

There was a loud sound in her ear—like howling, but with the pain rocketing in her brain, she wasn’t sure if that was real or not.

She looked up and saw a faint, winged shadow in the distance, up in the sky.

Was that da—?

A shadow blocked her vision. It was Hanford leaning over her, a manic grin on his face. “See what happens when sluts like you say no to me?”

He must have hit her hard because she could still feel the wound on her head bleeding. Though her Lycan healing abilities helped her recover quicker than humans, it wasn’t lightning fast. And while she didn’t feel like passing out, those beans she had for dinner were threatening to make a second appearance. With a deep breath, she attempted to get to her feet.

Two hands pushed her down. “How are you still moving?” Hanford’s legs locked around her knees, his body pinning her under the soft sand. “Now let’s see you say no now.”

She struggled against him and the second blow to the side of her head came much faster this time, and another round of pain made her vision spin and stomach violently churn.

“You—what the hell?”

It was hard to keep her eyes open, but maybe that was a good thing. Wind whipped around them, a clouds of sand swirled around.

“Where did this …? Who the hell are you—ow!”

She saw his body lifting away from her and heard the roar of the sandstorm as it engulfed her. But somehow, she felt her body lift off the ground. A pair of arms were under her knees and back and her legs flailed. Fatigue and the pain from injury pressed down on her like a heavy rock, and she allowed the darkness she’d been fighting to claim her.

DAUGHTER OF THE DRAGON 

Releases Dec 4th, 2019

PRE-ORDER NOW on Amazon

ONLY 2.99

(Goes up to 3.99 on release day)

 

Final Preview: Chapter Three

RAW AND UNEDITED

HIGHLAND WOLF

TRUE MATES GENERATIONS BOOK 5

 

After what seemed like the longest and most uncomfortable tour she’d ever experienced in her whole life, Julianna was ready to lock herself up in her bedroom. No, scratch that. She wanted to take the next flight back to New York. Seeing as she hadn’t yet unpacked, it would be easy enough to grab her suitcase, hop into the car, and drive away from this loony bin.

Because this was all crazy, right?

The initial shock of seeing Rossi’s portrait hadn’t even worn off before that boorish mountain of a man had his hands all over her and proclaimed them to be True Mates.

Insane.

“Uh, so, the Lupa will have dinner ready at seven,” Gerald said as they re-entered the library after the two-hour tour of the house and grounds. “Kirsten will have a veritable feast prepared. We don’t often get guests here. But it’ll probably just be us family for now.”

“Thank you, Gerald,” Reed said. “The tour was excellent.”

“It’s an amazing place,” Elise added. “Right, Julianna?”

Though the whole tour, Elise was doing her best to coax Julianna into the conversation, but she remained quiet, stewing and trying to avoid the curious looks Gerald had been giving her. “Yeah,” she croaked. “It’s a nice place.

“Glad you think so. I’ll be off then.” With a last nod, he left the library.

The moment the door closed, Elise dashed to Julianna and tugged on her sleeve. “Julianna? Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

She turned her head toward the other woman. “I’m … fine.”

“You just met your True Mate,” Reed said. “You must be in shock. I sure as hell was when I recognized Elise.”

Julianna shook her head. “It’s not true, right? You … your family … I know Bridget and Eleanor said …” Her thoughts were jumbled up. Was she even making sense?

“I’m afraid it is true.” Reed placed a hand on her shoulder. “He’s a descendant of my mother’s family through Bridget and part of the Caelkirk clan, which means he did recognize you as his mate.”

“But how?”

“I can’t explain it, no one can.” Reed paused. “All I know is that one moment everything was fine and then I looked into Elise’s eyes, and the world was different.” Elise blushed and he smiled fondly. “My wolf called her my mate.”

“It’s just …” She paced for a few seconds, then stopped. Looking up, she came face to face with her likeness again. That damned painting. “What are we going to do about this?”

“Rossi’s painting?” Reed asked. “What about it?”

“It’s evidence! What if anyone found out about us? About you?”

He chuckled. “Julianna, how could anyone find out where I came from by looking at this painting? Besides, who would believe us anyway?” He raised a brow at her. “And don’t try to change the subject.”

Fuck. “I’m not. I’m just worried about keeping the fabric of space and time from ripping apart.” No one could know about their time traveling experiences. It was too dangerous, and there was a risk that the mages would find out and try to use the dagger to travel back in time and change things.

“Look, maybe we’re all just tired and jet lagged.” Elise covered her mouth as she let out a yawn. “How about we get some rest and then get ready for dinner?”

Reed placed an arm around her protectively. “You must be exhausted, love. Let’s go find our room so we can get refreshed.” Turning to Julianna, his face turned soft. “Julianna, Duncan seems like a good chap. And you know, as your mate—”

“He’s not my mate.”

“I won’t try to convince you.” Reed let out an exasperated sound. “But I know that he would do anything to make you happy. And maybe … maybe after all you’ve gone through, you deserve some happiness.”

Julianna remained silent and watched them as they left the library. Reed’s words had struck her. Deep. But happiness in a True Mate?

“Ha.” Fat chance.

Sure, she’d seen her parents and some of their family members seemingly jubilant with their mates. But she wasn’t her mother or Adrianna. No, she was far too independent, and she would never stand for it if a man tried to assert their dominance on her or acted like some possessive jerk.

She shivered, thinking of the way Duncan looked at her. Cocky jerk. His bright green eyes seemed to want to own every part of her. Well, she’d be damned before she let that happen.

The light outside was dying now, and the shadows seemed to subtly change the painting, staring down at her as if challenging her.

“Don’t you think you know what’s good for me,” she said, pointing a finger at the painting. “I don’t—ugh!” Throwing her hands up, she stalked away from the painting, and headed out the library. Why the heck was she arguing with canvas and paint? Maybe the insanity of this place was getting to her.

---

“Damnit, Adrianna!” Julianna exclaimed as she tossed her open suitcase on its side, emptying the contents to the floor.

Fashion and clothes weren’t her thing. Shopping was a chore and it only took her fifteen minutes to get ready in the morning. Usually, if she was going to the office, it was a dark colored skirt or pantsuit. If it was fieldwork, then she’d wear whatever she needed to blend in, like jeans or shorts. For formal occasions, she had a dozen black dresses from the same store. She could have sworn she packed at least two of them for this trip, but when she opened her suitcase, they were nowhere to be found. Instead, she found a sexy, low-cut red gown and a flirty blue-green cocktail dress. And heels. For fuck’s sake, she didn’t even own any shoes that were higher than an inch, and these were spiky black ones that made her look like some dominatrix.

There were only two people back in Jersey who could have messed with her clothes and she had a hard time thinking it was Darius rooting around in her underwear drawer. So, it had to be Adrianna. Her sister was always telling her she had the body of a supermodel, and she should flaunt it more often.

With a long sigh, she grabbed the blue-green dress, which was the lesser evil of the two. At least that one didn’t have a slit that came up to her navel. After putting the dress on, she slipped her feet into the shoes. She found herself wobbling for the first couple of steps, but surprisingly, found her stride. Huh, that wasn’t bad at all.

With one last glance at the mirror, she headed outside. Mrs. Carter had called over the intercom to tell her that there would be drinks in the parlor thirty minutes before the dinner. She checked her watch as she descended the stairs. Damn. She was five minutes late and so she rushed down the hallway on the right. The parlor was at the end of the gallery, Mrs. Carter had said, past the armory.

As she passed by a suit of armor guarding one door, she heard the sound of voices from the next room. Suddenly, she realized that she would not only have to face that oaf, but also the other people. Hopefully, no one had said anything about the mates thing or none of them believed it.

Placing her hand over her chest, she felt for the gold disc pressed against her skin. Lucas was counting on her, she reminded herself. Forge the alliance. Then get the fuck out of this loony bin.

As soon as she stepped inside the parlor, her eyes immediately were drawn to him. He was talking to his father and uncle, but it was like he sensed her presence the moment she walked into the room, as his head turned toward her. His sensuous mouth curled up into a grin and heat spread straight to her belly. Her wolf was rolling around, reveling in his attentions.

That stupid ass. Why did he have to be so goddamn sexy? He oozed sensuality, his green eyes darkening as he inspected her from head to toe. Earlier today, she didn’t get a chance to just look at him as she was shocked and angry, but now, in the light of the chandelier, his hair looked more dark blond than the reddish blond she thought it was. That jacket he wore showed off his broad shoulders and tapered down to his trim waist and—holy hell, was he wearing a kilt?

“She’s here!”

“Who?”

“Her! The American!”

“The one who looks like Duncan’s painting?”

“His True Mate!”

Jesus. Motherloving. Christ. Surely it wasn’t too late to back out of the room. And to leave the country.

A young woman rushed up to her and familiar green eyes looked at her expectantly. “Oh, she’s so pretty! Like your painting.” The owner of said eyes giggled, and for a second, Julianna thought Bridget was standing in front of her. However, she looked nothing like blonde and blue-eyed Bridget. No, this girl had wild red curls and green eyes, but the soft burr and laugh was the same. Her chest tightened, pressing into—

“I’ve been dying to meet you. I’m Roslyn MacDougal.” She pulled Julianna into a hug. “I’m Duncan’s sister.”

“She’s the baby.”

Roslyn turned around. “I’m not a baby, Lachlan MacDougal! I’m sixteen—almost seventeen!”

“Really? What about all that baby fat all over your—och!” The man exclaimed as Roslyn reached over and pinched his arm. “Christ, woman! Those pincers are gonna get you in trouble.” He turned to Julianna and smiled. “Well now, hello, lassie. Name’s Lachlan MacGregor.”

She took the enormous man’s hand and shook it. Lachlan looked like a younger, brawnier version of Duncan. “Julianna Anderson.” She tried to take her hand back, but Lachlan’s grip was tight.

“So, you’re Duncan’s mate? Hmmm … they said you look like the girl from the paintin’ but …” He moved closer until his face was inches away. “I’m not so sure. Is it your—”

“What in the bloody hell is going on here?”

Lachlan froze and turned his head but didn’t let go of Julianna’s hand. “Och, Duncan, I’m just trying to see if she’s really the same girl—hey!” He staggered back and released her hand as Duncan pulled him away by the shoulder. “Jaysus man, you didn’t have to pull that hard.”

“Aren’t you a big-shot MMA fighter? Surely it wasn’t that painful?” Duncan’s eyes blazed. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doin’.”

“’Cause you’d have done it yourself?” He ducked as Duncan swung at him. “Oi, stop! Stop!”

Duncan turned to Julianna. “Sorry about my youngest brother, he was born that way.”

“Duncan!” said another voice.

“How about you introduce us to your mate?”

“I’m not his—”

Duncan rolled his eyes and stepped aside. “Julianna, these are my other brothers, Finlay and Fraser.”

Julianna blinked. But she wasn’t seeing double. The two men standing next to Duncan were definitely twins. Both had the same red hair as Roslyn, though kept short, and had blue eyes. “Julianna Anderson.” She held out her hand, but the twins didn’t make a move, looking at Duncan first who gave them a terse nod.

“Nice to meet you, lass,” said Finlay—or was it Fraser?

“I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay so far?” Strangely enough, the other twin had a posher accent.

“Fraser’s a professor of history in Cambridge,” Duncan explained. “Finlay’s our VP of production at the distillery.”

Perhaps that explained the difference in the way they spoke, and Julianna realized that when she shook their hands, one of them definitely had rougher, work-hewn hands while the other’s was smoother but callused at the thumb, like someone used to writing with a pen for hours.

“Oh, Duncan, is this her?” A sweet voice said. “Introduce me!”

Duncan’s expression warmed as he pulled up the older woman behind him. “This is my mother, Kirsten MacDougal, Lupa and Countess of Caelkirk. Ma, this is Julianna Anderson.”

“How do you do, Lady Caelkirk?” Julianna said. “Thank you for inviting us into your—”

The rest of her words were muffled as she found herself in another embrace. “We’re not formal here. Please call me Kirsten. And you’re my Duncan’s mate!” Her smile was so bright Julianna wanted to wince. “I don’t think you look like that painting at all.”

“You don’t?”

“Nay, you’re much more beautiful. And I can’t believe … oh, Duncan!” Kirsten had tears in her eyes.

Callum walked up to them and put a hand around her shoulders. “I think I heard Mrs. Carter asking for you, my love. Somethin’ about the roast.” Before she could protest, her husband dragged her away.

“You did this on purpose,” Julianna hissed at Duncan.

“Did what?” he asked innocently.

She huffed. “Tell everyone I was your True Mate.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s preposterous.”

“Really? And how can you be sure I’m not telling the truth.” He leaned down closer to her until his face was inches from hers. “D’you wanna give it a test?”

Heat crept up her neck. Oh, she knew exactly what he meant of course. The only real way to know for sure was if they had sex and she got pregnant right away. Her wolf seemed to like the idea of having a pup, but Julianna wasn’t so keen. The sex part though … that made her core clench.

“Ah, maybe you would like—”

“Shut. Up.” God, she wanted to smack that handsome face. It was a good thing Reed and Elise entered the parlor, as they were introduced to everyone in the room, and, to Julianna’s relief, Kirsten was distracted because she was fawning over Elise, especially after finding out that she was a pregnant with her True Mate’s baby. Finlay handed Julianna and Reed a glass of whiskey and some juice for the expectant mom.

“Don’t you worry, dinner will be ready soon,” Kirsten said. “I bet you must be starving! I was all the time when I was pregnant with my children.”

“I thought she was going to eat me out of house and home,” Callum chuckled. “But, look at my boys. It’s no wonder she was eatin’ so much, eh?”

“Big strapping lads,” Gerald commented. “The lot o’ you. Me boys, too. We grow ’em big here.”

“It’s the genes,” Reed commented, and he gave a sly smile to Elise.

Julianna, meanwhile, winced.

“Don’t worry, dear, it might hurt a wee bit, but it’s all worth it.”

Much to Julianna’s surprise, Kirsten was looking at her. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, when you have your own—”

“Isn’t that food ready yet?” Callum interrupted. “We gotta get our guests fed or they’ll be thinkin’ we’re poor hosts.” He led his mate away, and everyone followed them toward a connecting door on the right side of the room.

God, I just want this night to end. Julianna downed the glass, allowing the smooth, smoky liquid to coat her throat. Wow. She was a vodka girl herself, but that was good whiskey.

“I know what you’re thinkin’,” a rich, velvety voice said in her ear. “And it’s true what they say about kilts.”

She stiffened, feeling a large hand at the small of her back. “What?”

“That we don’t wear anything under it.”

The man was insufferable. “I wasn’t thinking that.”

“But you are now.”

The rough brogue made her shiver involuntarily, and—damn him—did make her think of what was underneath that kilt. As if reading her mind, he let out a throaty laugh and guided her toward the doorway, which led into a small, but elegant dining room. Though she tried to walk away from him and go to the opposite end, his hand snaked around her waist and pulled her toward a chair near the head of the table, then he sat down next to her.

Gritting her teeth, she sat down, not wanting to be rude. This was it, she thought. We’ve only just met, and he was already acting like a possessive jerk. She avoided his gaze, despite the fact that she could feel his eyes boring into her. She was just glad that Mrs. Carter and her staff had come in and begun serving the food.

“This really is the best whiskey I’ve had,” Reed commented as he took a sip of the amber liquid from his glass. “You say you’ve owned this distillery for generations?”

“Aye,” Callum replied. “Maybe two hundred years back. One of my ancestors actually came from another clan and married into Caelkirk, then brought the knowledge of distilling whiskey into the family.”

“The Three Wolves was mostly a small batch distillery,” Finlay added. “But in the last decade or so, demand has been increasing, especially in Asian markets, and we’ve had to expand a lot.”

“Well, I hope I can purchase some,” Reed said. “It’s not too well known in America yet, but I bet with some marketing, you’ll sell well there too.”

“In that case, I’ll give a case or two,” Callum said. “Not many people can appreciate fine whiskey. You must have it in the blood. Maybe you do have a little Scottish in you?”

Reed nearly choked. “I, uh …”

“That’s what we’re here for.” Elise handed her husband a glass of water. “My father spoke with you about Reed and how we were researching his roots.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Kirsten clapped her hands together. “You poor dear. Abandoned as a child in a Yorkshire orphanage. And then those humans adopted you, right? How did you end up in America?”

“My father had a job offer in Canada.” Reed put down the glass of water. “We moved when I was a teen. Then I was visiting the US when I met Elise.”

“And you didn’t know you were a Lycan until then?” Lachlan asked in a curious tone.

Reed shook his head. “It was a surprise.”

Only a few people knew the truth of who Reed was and where he came from. Julianna had heard some of the story that had been crafted to make Reed’s arrival into the modern and Lycan world more believable, but not the entire thing. She had to admit, it was genius saying that his wolf was latent. After all, her own Aunt Alynna had a similar story when she discovered later in life that she was a Lycan.

“I think he kind of looks like the old London Alpha.” Duncan narrowed his eyes at Reed.

“Really?” Reed said smoothly, betraying nothing.

“Yeah. He’s been gone a while, but I remember him having a similar chin. And he also had dark eyes.”

“Maybe you were born on the wrong side of the blanket—ow!” Lachlan threw a dirty look at Roslyn who had hit him in the back of the head. “Fer feck’s sake, Ros! We’re eating.”

“Don’t be so rude, Lachlan.” Roslyn stuck her tongue out at him. “And stop your whinin’. I’m surprised you haven’t developed brain damage, seeing as we’ve all hit you so much.”

“Why do you think he’s a good fighter?” Fraser quipped.

Lachlan puffed up his chest. “You tell ’er.”

“It’s because he likes bein’ beaten up, always has,” Finlay finished, which earned him a dirty look from Lachlan.

“Oh, can’t you all act civilized while we have guests?” Kirsten moaned and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “They’re usually much better behaved when we have people over.”

Finlay and Fraser chuckled, and despite her earlier mood, Julianna found herself smiling. This reminded her a lot of her own family, except that it was usually her and Isabelle fighting.

“Is that smile for me, darlin’?” Duncan was flashing her a teasing smile.

She returned it with a freezing stare. “No.”

“You look so bonny when you’re mad.”

Did he ever give up?

“What—did I get you all tongue-tied?” He leaned forward, reaching over her as if to make a grab for the dish of potatoes on her left, but made sure to brush against her. His scent permeated the small space between them and her wolf went wild.

Stop it, you horny bitch!

“I haven’t even started. Should I show you how I keep my tongue tied up?”

Warmth rushed through her veins, and her wolf was practically sitting up and begging for him. Fucking hell. “Stop it,” she whispered. “You need to get this straight into that thick skull of yours: I’m not your mate.”

He gave her another infuriating smile. “Whatever you say, darlin’.”

Julianna did her best to ignore him for the rest of the meal, instead, concentrating on her food. While he didn’t try to converse with her, he did his best to make sure she never forgot he was beside her, whether that was brushing his thigh against her under the table or “accidentally” ensuring their hands touched when he asked her to pass something his way. Goddamn him, it was maddening, and her wolf and her body reacted to every little touch.

When everyone had finished dessert, Callum invited everyone for a nightcap in the library, but Elise had begged off because she was feeling tired. Reed didn’t look like he wanted to end the night yet, seeing as he really looked like he was enjoying talking to the Alpha. Julianna couldn’t blame him, as he probably was feeling nostalgic, but she also didn’t let the opportunity pass her.

“I’ll take her upstairs, Reed,” she volunteered. “You go and have more whiskey. I’m feeling tired myself.” She shot up so fast that her chair scraped loudly. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she gets into bed safe and sound.” Walking around to their side, she helped Elise get up and practically dragged her out the dining room.

“You know, I’m not that tired,” Elise said wryly.

“Shush, you’re jet lagged and you’re making a Lycan.” She pointed her chin at Elise’s bump. “It’s exhausting. You’re getting sleeeeepy.”

Elise guffawed but also stifled a yawn. “You’re just looking for an excuse to get out of there.”

She neither admitted nor denied it. It’s his fault. Stupid Duncan and his stupid sexy grins. Well, just because he seemed to think they were True Mates didn’t mean she had to fall into that trap. No, she had her own mind, and genes or hormones weren’t going to make her fall for that stupid ass.

 

 

PRE-ORDER ON AMAZON NOW!
PRICE GOES UP ON OCTOBER 4