by Michele Ryan
Seh whimpered before he started rooting against her covered breast.
Clara smiled down at the scrunched-up face of her first-born. “Impatient. Just like your father,” she remarked.
On one hand, she was happy her son had slept through the night, but on the other, it made her sad. She enjoyed the multiple night feedings. Although exhausting, it’d been her special time with her newborn. She left all her concerns at the door, focusing on one thing—Seh. Him hopefully sleeping through the night would allow her more rest and perhaps a more intimate relationship with Ezra.
Guilt washed over her and the boy in her arms picked up on his mother’s emotions. Seh released her nipple, offering her a milky smile. He looked at her just as Ezra did, and she had no doubt he was an Alpha in the making. His eyes were intense, always studying her, and his little face grew serious for long moments before latching back on and nursing with vigor.
Clara recalled the events of the previous night. Ezra had been kissing her. He had even removed some of her clothes. She remembered the press of his big, hard body against hers. The anticipation of having sex for the first time since the birth of their child had the wolf within her howling, demanding its mate. Unfortunately, her mind had been willing, but her body had had other ideas. Clara winced. Perhaps it was why she’d woken without Ezra beside her this morning.
She’d been a horrible mate. Ezra was so patient with her, often coddling her, making sure she took care of herself and Seh while patiently waiting in the wings till Clara adjusted to her new role as Alpha female and mother.
She needed to try harder in giving her mate attention. Hopefully, last night had been the start of their son’s sleeping pattern improving. It might also be best if she took at least one nap during the day, when they didn’t have a case of the utmost importance, to help remain awake during night time activities with Ezra.
If none of her ideas worked, she would find and cast a spell to help her stay focused. Or just drink loads of tea. Maybe even the American coffee Ezra enjoyed often in the morning and throughout the day. She’d often taken several sips of the heady brew from his cup, acquiring a taste for it as long as she added extra milk and sugar.
In no time, Seh had filled his belly and drifted back to sleep. Traces of milk coated the corners of his lips and chin. Carefully, Clara cleaned his hands and face before she returned him to the nursery and Ms. Jemmy’s care. Once she’d tucked her son in for a nap, Clara made her way back to her room to the dress for the day.
Her growling stomach reminded her it was well past the time to break her fast, so she headed to the kitchen. Thankfully, Harriet, had left some of the non-perishable items for breakfast on the side bar, including a delectable slice of cured ham, fresh cranberry orange scones, jams, a wide mixture of fruit, and a kettle warming on the stove for tea. Clara eyed up the covered plate, which she knew held a heartier fare for the men, if they wished it.
Taking a plate from the stack on the table, Clara filled it and sat down while her tea steeped to the dark-brown color she preferred. Halfway through her scone, Annabelle appeared. Her hair, which was usually pulled away from her face, hung limply down her back with wisps of curly locks were sticking out all around her head. Her clothes were also covered in mud.
“What are you doing up? Aren’t the undead supposed to sleep during the day and be awake during the night?” Clara asked as her friend sat on the stool next to her.
“I have yet to go to bed.” Exhaustion pulled at her features. “Just because we’re supposed to be day sleepers, doesn’t mean it always goes according to plan.”
“Umm. You appear to me as if you have had a rough night. I think you could use this tea more than I,” Clara stated, pushing her full, steaming-hot tea in front of her friend. “Drink up. I will brew myself another.”
“It was easier, I think, to kill vampires than to be one,” Annabelle declared before lifting her cup to her lips and taking a long sip. “And a mother.”
“I would not let Jonah hear you say such.”
Annabelle gave an unladylike snort. “He already knows, as I made my preferences abundantly clear around three a.m.”
“What happened?” Clara broke off a piece of her scone and ate it.
“I seem to be having issues adjusting to my new abilities. Jonah was teaching me to use my speed to go from one place to the next while we looked for Fraser. I tripped, falling into a pile of leaves and dirt.”
Clara smiled. “It would explain your appearance.”
“It happened multiple times,” Annabelle grumbled.
“It will get better. Trust me. I’m still learning my way with the shift. Now I at least remember to engage the mechanism on my arm, to aid in the shift.” Clara glanced at the latest configuration of her pewter arm. “Anyway, did you find anything out about Jonah’s sire?”
“Not yet. Fraser is a cheeky bastard for sure. Every time we get a lead to where he might be, by the time we arrive he is gone. If I did not know better, I’d say he’s a ghost,” Annabelle stated before reaching to take a scone off the plate in the center of the table.
Clara shuddered. “That’s a frightening thought. Why do you even bother getting a plate or food? You can no longer eat it.”
Annabelle sighed. “Habit.”
“Give it here.” Clara held out her plate. “I shall eat it.”
With a wishful look, Annabelle transferred the scone to Clara’s plate. “We need to find him and quickly. Bodies are piling up.”
“Speaking of, did you ever read the book Jonah wrote about vampires?” Clara reached for the delicate peach-filled pastry.
Annabelle shrugged, her gaze dropping to study her half-empty tea-cup.
“Should I take that as a no then?” Clara asked.
“We have been a bit busy, Clara. A zombie horde, dealing with The Baron, your change, my change and your pregnancy—Kellen.”
“Excuses,” Clara admonished her friend and leader. “You have always said a well-informed hunter is a good hunter.”
“How is reading the book going to help?”
“Because Jonah’s blood carries traces of his sire,” Clara said as if it were common knowledge, and maybe it should have been.
“And this matters how?” Annabelle arched a brow.
“It matters because if you knew someone, perhaps a powerful witch, she could use Jonah’s blood to track his sire.”
“Shite.” Annabelle smacked her forehead. “Why did I not think of this?”
“Because you didn’t read the book Jonah penned about vampires?” Clara teased.
“Jonah didn’t even think of it—you.”
“He might not think it’s possible. But it is. All he’d need is a powerful witch.” Clara smiled and pointed at herself. “That would be me and a sample of his blood. Or yours.”
“Why mine?”
Clara rolled her eyes at her friend and went on to explain. “Jonah is your sire. Therefore, you could have trace elements from his sire, Fraser.”
Annabelle shook her head. “Jonah would not be pleased if I just gave you sample of my blood. He’d want to do it himself.”
Clara nodded. “The sooner I get a sample the better. I will also need to retrieve a book from the library. Hopefully, Emmitt will not be hiding out in there. He has become downright surly. He snapped at me the other day. Claimed I had left the cap off the inkwell when I never even used it. And something is afoot with him and Andres. I cannot put my finger on it.”
Annabelle cleared her throat. “They are friends.”
“An odd pair of friends, to be sure. I wonder if there is something more there,” Clara said.
Annabelle shrugged. “Who knows? Anything is possible. When you first came to France, did you ever think you would end up in England, living with a spector, a vampire, a reanimated man or become a female wolf?”
“You have a point.” Clara stood, then gathered the used plates, to take them to the sink. “As long as Emmitt is content, it doesn’t matter who
makes him so.”
“Or what,” Annabelle added.
“Very true.
“I expect a vial of your Beloved’s blood waiting for me tomorrow morning when I wake.”
“You will have it when the sunsets tonight. I will make sure of it,” Annabelle assured her as she stood.
“Rest well, my friend.” Clara squeezed Annabelle’s hand before she headed for the stairs off the kitchen. She then made her way toward the library.
The massive door was open, and Clara peeked into the room, paying close attention to the shadowed areas, where Emmitt preferred to stay. Not seeing his hulking mass anywhere, she chuckled at her paranoia before stepping into her favorite space in the manor.
“Why were you lurking, Clara?” Emmitt called from his perch near the fireplace. The shadows from the flames danced upon his greyish skin, causing him to appear more dangerous than he truly was.
Merde!
She had completely forgotten about the hidden alcove to the left, thanks to the massive door being open. “I am not lurking.” She lifted her chin as the lie rolled effortlessly off her tongue. She’d also been proud of the fact her voice hadn’t quivered as it sometimes did when she attempted to tell falsehoods to Ezra. Clara made her way to the large wooden table in the middle of the room before she turned to face Emmitt. “I am in need of the book Jonah penned about Vampires.”
Emmitt huffed. Clearly his mood had not improved since they’d last spoken. “You know where it is, Clara. You know this room as well, if not better, than me.”
A sense of pride welled within her at his words, even though they’d been spoken with a hint of sarcasm. “Yes, well, in order to cast spells, I need to know as much about the subject or being as possible.”
Books had always been a salvation for her. Other than Annabelle and her Misfits, books had been Clara’s only constant companion. She suspected Emmitt found the same in the tomes. It’d been why, out of all the men in the house, other than Ezra, she’d hoped to build a bond with Emmitt. Their redemptions were bound in novels and the magic they carried, whether fact-based or purely fictional.
Emmitt lumbered over to where the book rested in the large case. After carefully removing it, he handed it to her.
“Much thanks,” Clara mumbled, as she began to flip through the thick parchment pages.
“What is it you are looking for?” Emmitt inched closer to her then sat beside her.
“A way for us to track Fraser.”
“You believe you will find this in a book?” He peered over her shoulder.
Clara sighed. “I apologize for continuing to invade your inner sanctum, Emmitt, but this is a place for research. Which is what I am currently doing.”
“I am aware, Clara.”
“Yet you continue to make me feel unwelcome here.” She closed the book with a snap before glancing up at him.
Odd. In all the time she had lived here, he had never allowed the sunlight to caress his face or warm his skin, yet, today, he sat facing the window, enjoying the morning sunlight. Surely, this had been the first time she’d truly seen him, not the shadow of him. He was handsome. Not as handsome as Ezra of course, but none the less, he held a certain rugged appeal.
“May I be of some help?” Another first. He’d offered to assist her. Maybe the end of the world was looming. He seemed to debate his words before he spoke again. “Do you think you can do this? Or-or this could work?”
“Well, yes.” She cringed at her tone then tried again. “There has to be a way, Emmitt. If this works, then think of all the lives and families we’ll spare.”
“Right.” He nodded. “Let’s get to work.”
They spent the next several hours skimming through old texts. Some Omer had horded over his lifetime, and others the teams had gathered over the years. They only stopped when Miss Jemmy arrived with Seh for a visit and to nurse.
“Found it!” Clara turned the ancient tome toward Mr. Enright before leaning back to stretch out in her chair. The muscles in her back protested from having been bent over the desk for so long.
Emmitt narrowed his eyes as he read what she found before adding more notes in the journal he’d produced earlier.
“You might want to combine it with this,” he said, his gaze never leaving the book as he pushed what he had been reading across the table.
“Bloody brilliant,” she mumbled after reading it. “I can safely combine them. The bastard will not be able to hide.”
“Correct,” Emmitt said gleefully as his lips curled up.
Merde, was that a smile?
She had never seen the reanimated man smile, and she’d be damned if she’d acknowledge it, since it seemed they had formed a small alliance. One she wasn’t going to ruin at this junction.
“A job well done,” Clara announced. “Would you like to join me for the afternoon meal?”
“Another time.” Emmitt fiddled with his pencil, suddenly looking unsure. “Before you leave, I need to ask, is everything okay with you and Ezra?”
“We are fine, Emmitt. Thank you for asking,” she said hoping the surprise at his question did not reveal itself in her voice.
“The full moon is approaching. You should inquire if Annabelle and Jonah could watch Seh so you might partake in the festivals with your mate.”
Before she could answer, Emmitt stood then walked out of the library. Clara sat there for a moment before making her way to the kitchen to gather something to eat. Emmitt’s words churned in her mind. Had she been so obvious? Did others notice? She filled her plate with some of the fixings left on the sideboard, then continued to the nursery. Soon, Seh would need to be fed again, and she wanted to play with him for a bit. Plus, she had yet to see her mate at all, and she wondered where he’d gotten off to. Perhaps Miss Jemmy might have an inkling. Lord knew she saw everything that happened in the house.
As she topped the stairs, she stopped short, hearing the low ramblings from the small sitting alcove. She recognized both voices. Grant and Lular. She supposed she’d been a bit overly protective of Grant as of late, but after Ezra finding Kellen and realizing the baby was Grant’s, how could she not be? She closed her eyes and gave herself a moment to gather her wits before entering the alcove. Grant and Lular jumped apart, but not before she saw how close they were sitting together, like two lovers would.
Oh, Seigneur, aidez-moi. Would they ever get a break and be a normal family with typical daily struggles?
It did not look like it.
Clara cleared her throat, glancing between the two guilty parties. “Grant, it would be best, I believe, for you to join me in the nursery.”
Grant nodded, stood and gave Lular a wistful, longing look before heading down the hallway. Maybe it was time to cast another resurrection spell so she could speak to Granmé Marie.
Chapter Three
Clara and Annabelle were huddled together in the library, working on something neither woman would explain. Jonah, feeling responsible for all the bad happening around the mansion, had once again been on the hunt for Frazer, while Andres and Emmitt had gone to the theater with the intention of making it a leisurely day. Ezra intended to ask Jonah about the kiss he’d seen between Andres and Emmitt; however Jonah and Annabelle were adjusting to their own changing family structure.
He hadn’t brought it up since the night they’d found the small bundle, nor had he shown Clara at first. She’d done so much to protect their friends and save not only her life, but his son’s as well, plus, add in the fact the news would devastate Grant… He didn’t have the mental fortitude to watch his family crumble.
Yes, somehow, Grant had impregnated one of Marbella’s supporters. Yes, it had been through forced capitulation. No, the woman hadn’t told anyone, Ezra suspected. Instead she’d buried it, and when everything had gone to hell, he’d found the small, premature baby. Surely, had he not been a werewolf, like Ezra or in this case, Grant, the boy would have died. Ezra remembered the moment very well. He’d removed his shirt, determ
ined his flesh and blood would live and placed the infant in the middle of it. He’d wrapped the baby, no bigger than his forearm, in his shirt. The boy had let out a cry of hunger...pain...both—he didn’t know, but he’d had to be quick about it, before someone spotted him. Ezra had run through the park to the alleyways he’d used so many times as a way of getting back to the manor without being followed. As soon as he stepped inside, everything would change.
And change, it had.
Clara had appeared as though she’d sensed his anxiety and guilt, his fears and also love, for a small boy he couldn’t keep. Keeping this child would haunt his son forever. This boy would be a reminder of what had been done to Grant and what those godless whores had brought about. Yet, snuffing the life out of an innocent being made Ezra’s stomach churn with disgust.
When Clara’s gaze finally landed on the bundle in his arms, he wasn’t sure at first if she understood who he held. He remembered muttering something about the boy being left for dead. Then, after that, it’d been a blur of activity. Miss Jemmy, bless her soul, had kept Grant away for the evening with Lular. After Omer had checked the infant over and declared he would be just fine with time, they’d discussed who would care for him. Jonah and Annabelle had been the first to agree to take the pup in. The story they’d concocted, sitting at the table, would be one to haunt Ezra for the rest of his days. He hated lying to his son; however, in this situation it would be for the best.
“You look lost,” Jonah murmured beside him. “Come have a drink with me.”
Ezra wouldn’t consider it lost, per se. More...troubled. He handed over his biological grandson to Jonah as though the child hadn’t been his flesh and blood. He also worried when the day came if Grant could forgive him for being so sure about his decision. “Contemplating, is all.” He followed Jonah into the parlor. “Worried.”
His friend nodded. “I don’t blame you. Kellen has turned the home upside down for you.” Jonah poured two glasses of whiskey. “He is a fine addition to the McRae legacy. Though I am sure he will have questions later in life, as will Grant.”