I stretch, waking from a restful sleep. It takes me a moment to remember. Oh yes, I took their voices. Crispin and Arc. Not my fault, they didn't let me sleep.
I open my eyes and smile at the Guardians sitting around my bed. They stare at me.
"What's up boys?" I ask cheerily, but the effect is somewhat ruined by my hoarse voice. Frost conjures some water into the empty glass next to me and I drink it greedily.
Arc gets up, gesticulating wildly. I pretend not to understand him.
"Crispin, would you mind telling me what he's trying to say?" My voice is sweet as honey. Frost is holding onto his chair, fighting to suppress his laugh, and even Storm is trying to hide a smile.
Crispin gives me the finger. Yes. Crispin. The sweet healer. Gives. Me. The. Finger. He's never going to speak again.
"Princess, we need to get going," Storm chuckles. "We stayed as long as we could, but the Commander wants a report. Crispin says your vitals are back to normal, and-"
"Crispin says?" I interrupt, causing Frost to fall into another laughing fit.
"He wrote it down, actually," Storm explains, his mask slowly taking over his face again. Damn, I like it when he smiles. " I didn't think I'd ever ask this, but please let them talk again."
I sigh dramatically and remove the magic around Arc's vocal chords. In response, he starts humming. Yes, why not. I ignore him and turn to Crispin, who's looking at me stone-faced. He's pissed, no doubt about that.
"What do I get for letting you speak again?"
He doesn't reply but I didn't expect him to.
"A kiss, perhaps?"
I know that's evil of me. But I need to feel his lips on mine or this bond is going to drive me crazy. It's become a lot less aggravating with the other three since... the rainbow, but with Crispin, I still want to rip his clothes off whenever I see him. Maybe a kiss will make it better.
He looks at me, his eyes blue and sad. Then he walks out of the room, leaving me in shock. What have I done! This wasn't right. Ashamed, I remove the magic binding his voice, and curl up in bed.
Epilogue
Beira
She's grown up so much since last I saw her. She's no longer the skinny little girl trying to show me her world. Now she's a woman and I've brought her into my own. But is she ready for what I will ask of her?
Wyn is sitting on a chair by my bed, looking uncomfortable. She still doesn't know what to think of me. I don't blame her. I've treated her like a stranger for all her life. I wish she knew that it was all just an act. That I didn't have a choice to give her away, to stay distant, to not show my true feelings. That I always had people watching her, making sure she was safe.
But she saved me, and that must mean that all is not lost between us. Maybe with time, we could become closer, like a real mother and daughter. But time is something that we don't have.
This wasn't the first assassin Angus sent, nor will it be the last. It's what I expect him to do it, it's in our nature. He's the Summer King, I'm the Winter Queen. He's the Father of Gods, and I am the mother. But now that he's tried to kill my daughter, he's gone too far. The attack on the ferry was clearly him, and so was the kidnapping before. But not the demons. I don't know why there were demons, and that scares me. Even Angus wouldn't steep so low.
I'm not sure how much to tell Wyn. She doesn't know anything about this world, and it's my fault. At least she's got her Guardians. That's one thing I did right, at least. They will keep her safe when I'm no longer here.
Because my time is running out.
I hope you enjoyed Winter Princess!
Continue Wyn’s story in Winter Heiress, the second book in this completed series. It’s also available as an audio book, if you prefer to listen to it on the go.
If you don’t want to miss any of my future releases, subscribe to my newsletter and get a free book in the process.
Author’s Note
This book was never planned, but I’m very glad that Wyn told me to write it. Therefore, my first thanks go to Wyn and her boys, thanks for making me tell your story.
Also, a massive thank you to
My fellow Flock members (in alphabetical order, so don’t get all cocky, Ari):
Arizona “Queen of Puns” Tape,
Kelly “Mother Flocker” Stock,
Laura “USAT Bestseller with a giant backlist” Greenwood.
My beta readers and my street team “I can’t name you all, sorry, but you know who you are!”
My family:
My sister “Eyes wide open when you choose your job”,
My mum “What you eat doesn’t make me fat”
My grandma “I don’t care who you love, as long as it’s real love”,
My second mum Evi “What is reverse harem?”,
Emma “the diva” and Darwin “the gentleman”.
Also By Skye MacKinnon
Daughter of Winter Series (Paranormal reverse harem)
Winter Princess
Winter Heiress
Winter Queen
Winter Goddess
Mother of Gods (prequel)
Demon’s Revenge (spin-off)
Samhain Goddess (spin-off)
Boxed Set
Seven Wardens (Paranormal RH co-written with Laura Greenwood)
From the Deeps
Into the Mists
Beneath the Earth
Within the Flames
Above the Waves
Under the Ice
Rule the Dark
Beyond the Loch (prequel)
Below the Baubles (Christmas spin-off)
Through the Storms (spin-off)
Boxed Set Books #1-4
The Drowning Series (Dystopian RH)
Polar Destiny
Polar Fates
Polar Miracle
The Mars Diaries (Sci-fi RH linked to the Drowning series)
Alone
Hidden
Found
>>Box Set
Defiance (contemporary dark RH)
Abandoned Heart
Broken Princess
Stolen Soul (2019)
Catnip Assassins (urban fantasy RH)
Meow
Infernal Descent (Fantasy RH co-written with Bea Paige
Hell’s Calling
Hell’s Weeping
Hell’s Burning
Abou Skye MacKinnon
Skye MacKinnon is a USA Today Bestselling Author with a slight obsession with bunnies, dried mango and Scotland. And when she says slight... her friends are trying to find ways to trick her into not having a book set in Scotland.
Whether it's set in space (Scottish space, obviously), fantasy worlds (Scottish fantasy worlds, obviously), or Scotland, Skye's tales are full of magic, romance and adventure. Oh, and unicorns. There's a few demons, too.
Follow her on social media:
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Cursed
The Gaia Chronicles Book #1
Grace White
A reverse harem paranormal romance
Blurb
It isn't easy being the girl who feels the world...
Isolation is all nineteen-year-old Terra Materson has known for the last six years. Hiding from the cruel whispers and judgmental stares of society, she suffers the pain of the world around her in silence. The air that moves ... the water that flows ...the fire that burns ... the earth that grounds, Terra feels it all. Despite her grandmother's insistence it's a gift, she knows it is nothing more than a curse in disguise.
When her grandmother dies, leaving her alone and guideless, she is forced to step out of the shadows and into the light. Atchison College is the perfect place
for Terra to learn to live again. Until she meets four guys with strange connections to the elements that torment her.
Together they lead her on a journey to the answer she's always craved: Who is she? But as Terra quickly realizes, the truth is far more than her head, and heart is prepared for...
1.
Today is the worst day of my life.
And that’s saying a lot given what I’ve been through in my nineteen years.
“Thank you for coming,” I say for at least the fifth time in less than an hour. It still sounds foreign on my tongue. Surreal. It hurts less than peoples well-rehearsed reply though.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” As if those six words make it somehow easier to swallow. I know they’re supposed to bring comfort; provide me with a sense of companionship in my time of need, but honestly, I just want to be alone.
“Terra?”
I turn to Mrs. Samson, my grandmother’s best friend, and feel relieved it’s her and not another vaguely-familiar person I have to make small talk with.
“I’m sorry, do you need something?” I ask, dabbing my eyes with my handkerchief; the one my grandmother had given me right before she passed. How ironic, that laying on her deathbed, she’d been the one to comfort me.
Her glassy gaze settles on me and she smiles. “No, dear. I just came to check on you. See how you’re holding up.” The smile slips off her face and I know she knows exactly how I’m doing, because she feels it too. The never-ending pain—the gaping hole in my heart.
Bony fingers reach for my shoulder, squeezing gently. “Just a little longer and then I’ll clear everyone out. It was a lovely service. You did her proud.” Mrs. Samson holds my teary-eyed gaze with her own and a moment of understanding passes between us.
“Thank you,” I choke out. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
The truth is, I didn’t want to. Casket choices. Picking out music for the service. Flower arrangements. It was all too much for my battered brain cells to handle. Mrs. Samson was more than willing to help, and I let her.
“I’ll go and make sure everyone has drinks.”
I nod tightly and watch as she shuffles down the hallway and into the kitchen. People are gathered in every corner of the house. Quiet and solemn. Just as a wake should be.
And my grandmother would have hated it.
I can imagine her, tsk tsking at us, wagging her finger. She always believed life was a blessing. Something to be celebrated. A notion that extended to death, in her eyes. But how could I possibly rejoice over losing the most important person in my life?
The only person.
The next hour passes in a blur of forced conversations and fake smiles. But true to her word, at five o'clock, Mrs. Samson ushers everyone from the house, thanking them for coming to pay their last respects. My arms remain wrapped around my midriff, holding myself together, as she cleans up. I know I should help. I know I’m supposed to be the one taking care of this, but I can’t seem to move.
I can’t seem to do anything.
“Terra, go. I’ll take care of this.”
“Go?”
She stops what she’s doing and lets out a small breath. “She wouldn’t want this. I know it’s been hard, but Matilda wouldn’t want this.”
Her words knot my stomach. I feel them twist and turn and tug, and the sensation causes me to hunch over. She’s right—of course she’s right—but I feel adrift. Lost at sea without an anchor.
“It’s okay,” Mrs. Samson says when I don’t answer. Her voice is soft—softer than I deserve when she’s here, present, and I’m here but paralyzed, drowning in my grief. “Go,” she repeats and this time, I grab my jacket off the rack and put it on.
“I won’t be too long.” My fingers curl around the door knob and I push, but at the last second, I glance back. “Thank you… for everything.”
Mrs. Samson nods before continuing the clean-up and I slip outside with only one place in mind.
My fingers sink into the long grass, brushing back and forth as I stare out at the old oak tree. Its thick trunk and far reaching roots are a testament to its age. My grandmother once told me it was planted at the turn of the twentieth century when her great grandmother moved here. An old rope swing hangs from the sturdiest branch and I imagine her as a child, whooshing through the air; children’s laughter dancing on the breeze.
And something calms in me.
I can almost see her, head tipped back with an infectious smile painted on her face. Big emerald eyes wide with excitement. Untamed red curls blowing wildly in the wind. And I smile back. This is how my grandmother would want me to remember her. Her zest for life.
Her spirit.
It’s strange really. Loss isn’t something new to me. I’m acquainted with it, more than most people my age. My parents died when I was just thirteen. It was then I arrived in Lebanon. But in the last six years, I had become closer with my grandmother than I ever was with my parents. They weren’t bad people, not at all, but they didn’t get me. Not the way she did.
Often, I think she understood me better than I understand myself. It’s difficult to explain, but I can feel the pain of everything around me—not people, but everything else around me. I can sense a storm brewing on the horizon without ever hearing the reporter’s forecast. Feel the life of the fields I walk or the flowers I tend.
When I was younger, it freaked me out, but my grandmother made me see it was nothing to fear—that it just meant I was connected to everything around me. Out here, on the farm, it's easy to forget that others aren’t so understanding. Away from the judging stares and gossip mills of city life, I have been able to be myself.
Terra Materson—the girl who feels the world.
But now my grandmother is gone and I’m alone. Terrified that finally, I’ll have to learn to live in the big wide world again.
When I finally return to the house, Mrs. Samson is waiting for me and there’s someone with her. A man I don’t recognize. I tilt my head, taking in his appearance. A long, woolen, charcoal-gray coat hangs over dark slacks which meet polished shoes.
“This is Mr. Bannatyne,” Mrs. Samson announces.
“Hello.” I extend a hand and he accepts, shaking it a little too forcefully.
“It’s a pleasure, Miss Materson. I realize today is not a good day, but your grandmother was quite insistent.”
“She was?” I almost choke on my heart at the mention of my grandmother.
“I’ll leave you be, dear.” Mrs. Samson pats my arm soothingly. “If you need me, you know where I am.” She gives me a pointed look, silently asking if I need her to stick around, but I thank her for everything and see her out.
When I return, I say, “Please, Mr. Bannatyne,” and motion for him to follow me into the living room. “Is this concerning my grandmother’s estate? I already met with her executor.”
We sit opposite each other and he pulls a leather case onto his lap. “About six months ago, your grandmother visited me.” The lid flips open, and he rustles the contents. “My apologies; let me explain. I am a lawyer in Osborne. I have handled some of your grandmother’s affairs in the past.”
“Okay, but I still don’t understand. The last will and testament has already been settled.” Since I was her only living relative, it was straightforward enough. The house and her life belongings were mine. Except for a few sentimental items she left for Mrs. Samson, and a small donation for the church.
“She was pretty clear.” He smiles warmly at me. “I was to deliver this to you today and not a moment sooner or later.” Mr. Bannatyne thrusts a manila envelope at me. It feels heavy in my hands. The weight of its secrets a burden I’m not sure I can handle in my current state of mind.
“That’s all?” I ask glancing from the envelope to the man across from me.
“That’s it. I really am very sorry for your loss.” He rises, and I sense this brief—and strange—meeting is over. “I’ll show myself out.”
“Thank you.” I’m no
t sure I could move even if I wanted to. The door bangs shut, indicating I’m alone and I push my fingers underneath the lip of the envelope, inhaling a deep steadying breath.
The bundle of papers slides out with ease and my eyes dance over my grandmother’s handwriting. Its familiarity is like a punch to the gut. She wrote me this. Knowing I would receive it after her death.
Dearest Terra,
I hope Mr. Bannatyne was gentle with you. He needs to work on his approachability, but I trusted none other with delivering this to you.
Child. My sweet, sweet child. It has been a pleasure watching you grow. Changing from a confused teenager into a thoughtful and compassionate young woman. There is no word that does justice to the dignity and sacrifice you have showed me over the past two years.
When you arrived on my doorstep, it was never my intention to stifle your wings. To imprison your spirit. But sometimes, life hands us a curve ball we do not expect. You did your part and I owe you a debt I can never repay. But I hope this is a start…
It’s time to spread your wings, Terra. To unshackle yourself from your insecurities and share your beauty and graciousness with the world.
Be brave. Live well. And love without fear.
I will be watching,
Hers From The Start: A Collection of First In Series Reverse Harem Page 29