Mated: A Why Choose Urban Fantasy Romance (Moonlight Inn Book 1)

by Leigh Kelsey

  She was trying not to laugh; I could see it. “Well. You know I have a brother?”

  “Who’s a vampire. Yeah.”

  “He and his house were involved in some bad stuff. Not crime stuff—evil fae god stuff.”

  I held up a hand, my stomach knotting. “Okay, got it. Say no more. Freaky supernatural shit.” I turned on my heel. “Thanks for the help anyway.”

  She grabbed my shoulder before I could open the door. “He’s gone. The fae god. But getting rid of him made the abbey and the church react weirdly. It flared up red—”

  “I saw. From my bedroom window.” My tone indicated how happy I was about that.

  Her eyes flashed. “It wasn’t their fault, okay? So lay off.”

  I took a solid step back, my heart hammering, and I guess she saw how scared I was because she dropped the protective witch thing and sighed. “Long story short, the area around the abbey’s been steeped in energy and power for hundreds of years. Killing the fae, his blood hitting the ground, set something off.”

  “Tell them to unset it off.”

  She rubbed a hand over her face. “It’s not that easy. The energy’s going haywire. Not even my coven elder can get it to stop.”

  It was suddenly hard to breathe. “Whatever that thing is, that pulse, it’s trying to screw up my life.”

  She tilted her head. “Elaborate.”

  I scuffed my boot on the floor. “Somehow a wolf in Nottingham picked up my scent, and came all the way to the Moonlight to try and claim me for his mate.” I met her eyes. “He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. And he won’t be the last to try and claim me, not if that red light threw my scent across the fucking country.” I snapped my mouth shut, too much of Normal Lyra bleeding into the Nice Lyra I was trying to be.

  Something chased through Rita’s eyes. “None of this makes sense.” I kept my mouth shut, and she went on. “It’s like … like all the normal magic inside the circle was amplified somehow.”

  “Normal magic?” I asked. “And amplified?”

  “Right.” She took on the appearance of a mad scientist, or an ultra-passionate lecturer. I guess that wasn’t far off—she was a historian as much as a witch. “Every magical species in Whitby has seen a spike or change in their magic since Fear Doirche’s death. Well. Murder. Aaaaanyway, everyone with magic has felt theirs change, even just a bit. I didn’t think to ask you since you don’t use magic, even if you have a drop of it.”

  I wouldn’t call my enhanced strength and senses a drop, but I didn’t know what it felt like to bend the wind and raise the earth beneath my feet, so fair enough. I just shrugged.

  “My theory? Your power’s been enhanced like everyone else’s. Whatever is going on has taken your scent, whatever you normally throw out—your natural wolf stuff—and put it on overdrive.”

  “Like I said,” I spoke carefully. “How do I undo it? Whatever it costs, I’ll pay it, just shut down whatever’s going on. Please,” I added, because I was that desperate.

  I could have swiped her with my claws for the pity that filled her brown eyes. “I’m sorry, Lyra. We’ve tried. It’s messing with us too.”

  “Right.” I ducked my chin, turned and opened the door. “Thanks anyway. For the information.”

  “Hang on,” she said, trailing me, the bangles on her arm jangling. “I can rig a shield around your house. That’s the best I can do,” she added as I turned, surprised.

  “How much?”

  She shook her head. “The last thing Whitby needs right now is more violence. No charge.”

  “That would be good,” I said, wary and unsure. “You can come by whenever you’ve got time, there’s usually someone in. And if you ever feel like a drink, there’s a free one at the Moonlight for you.”

  Her mouth quirked. “Muslim.”

  “Shit, yeah. Well, an orange juice. Or tomato juice, whatever’s your poison.”

  Her wry smile turned to something softer. “Thanks.”

  I gave her the Nod of People Too Awkward to Say Thank You and she give me another of her gentle smiles before she reclaimed her cross-legged position on the floor with the bracelets.

  I left the shop, my heart nowhere near as heavy. Even if there was no way to shut off the beacon that had thrown my scent across the UK, that could still be broadcasting the fact I was a female in season, I’d be safe at the cottage.

  As for the rest of my problems … I hated to admit it but I needed to talk to someone about them. Time to woman up and talk about my feelings.

  LYRA

  I jumped on a bus heading down the river to a place called Ruswarp. It wasn’t that much different from Whitby except it wasn’t directly on the coast, but it did have one serious advantage, and its name was Hazel Esk-Cox.

  My nerves ramped up again as I got off the bus and walked along the river where, in summer, people took little row boats out for fun. I’d been on one of those things loads of times since, through a series of ridiculous events—fuelled by good old ale and a touch of tequila—I became friends with Hazel.

  I could see her now as I approached the small building where people could rent the boats. Hazel’s many braids were piled on her head, a knot of purple and red, and the freckles dotted across her pale brown cheeks were practically invisible now the sky had gone overcast. She spotted me as I came to the shed and raised a hand, her smile as big as the sun. It faded a bit when she saw my gloomy expression but not much; Hazel was like that, always in a good mood. God knows why we were friends.

  “What’ve you done now?” she asked, hooking me around the neck to draw me into a lemon-scented hug. I got the straps on my jacket tangled up in the fringing of her denim dungarees—dungarees with fringing, who knew?—and snarled as I tried to get disentangled.

  “Nothing,” I said defensively, freeing myself of the dread fringing. “Why do you assume I’ve done anything?”

  She just levelled me with a look.

  “Fine, it’s usually my fault. But this time… Look, can we talk?”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. You never want to talk.” She motioned for me to follow her a way down the river where we wouldn’t be overheard. “So, what’s shaken you?”

  I heaved a sigh and then blurted it all out. “Cas wants to be my mate. And he wants Gray and Jack to be my mates too. He says it’s the only way to protect me from the lone wolves hunting me because of the pulse of red power, and because I’m in season.”

  Hazel just blinked. “Try again, and slower this time.”

  I explained everything fast enough that I forgot to draw breath but she got it by the second time around. Her mouth pressed into a thin line. I thought it was at the seriousness of my circumstances until she said, disbelieving, “Are you seriously complaining to me because three super-hot men want you to be their woman? Lyra.” She grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Three guys. Crazy sexy. Who all want you to be with all of them. What’s the problem?”

  I scowled at her with all my attitude and she grinned back at me, refusing to let go. I managed to keep it up for all of eight seconds before I slumped and said, “I don’t want it go wrong. I can’t lose them, Haze.”

  “Oh, Baby Cub,” she sighed, dragging me into her arms. I snarled at the nickname but it didn’t discourage her one bit; she just held me tighter, taking the snarl as further confession of weakness. After a token effort at fighting, I relaxed in her arms and hugged her back, letting the embrace pierce my walls and allow comfort in.

  When I drew away, I was surprised to find tears on my cheeks. Hazel brushed them away and gave me an uncharacteristically serious look. “Don’t be an idiot, okay? That’s all I ask of you.”

  I pressed my lips together, my eyes narrowing.

  “If mating or whatever the lingo is will protect you, I think you should do it. You’re already bound to them, right? As pack?”

  I nodded grudgingly.

  “So what’s the worst case here?”

  “I lose them all forever and I have no one le
ft.”

  Hazel put both hands on her hips.

  I added, “Except for my favourite, treasured friend Hazel. Obviously.”

  She jabbed me in the chest with a finger. “Cheeky bitch. But you’re not wrong. And honestly? I think the worst-case scenario is you try the mate thing, it doesn’t work, and you go back to being pack.”

  “Mate bonds have screwed up before, Haze, and usually one of them ends up finding another pack.”

  “And you’re gonna let that fear come between you and something that could be really good for you? Let alone keep you safe.” She nudged me. “What do you want?”

  “To not lose my pack,” I bit out.

  “No. Deep down. What do you want?”

  I looked at my feet, rolling the question around my head. Did I want them? Did I want Cas? Without a doubt. Gray? If I was being honest with myself, I did. And Jack? I’d never even considered it before but the way he’d protected me at the Moonlight, and his brave honesty since, had put him in a different light for me. That honesty was pretty fucking hot.

  “There’s your answer,” Hazel said, nowhere near as smug as I’d have been in her shoes.

  “If this all goes wrong,” I snarled, “I’m blaming you.”

  She replied by leaning in and kissing each of my cheeks.

  I stormed off up the incline back to the shed and the road at the top but I paused and looked back at her. “Thanks, Haze.”

  She waved me off but I didn’t miss the smile crinkling her eyes. “I didn’t do anything.”

  We both knew that was a lie. I gave her a last smile before I set off back to the bus stop. My stomach flipped as I contemplated the conversation that would happen when I got back to the cottage, part nerves but also excitement.

  I wanted it, I realised, and not just because being in season made me ultra horny. But then again, who wouldn’t want it? Cas was broad, tattooed, good looking in a sharp kind of way that was only softened by his flop of white hair. Gray had a rangy handsomeness about him, and with his long dark hair and love of black clothing, he looked a lot like the band guys I used to go out with at Hades, the alternate club in the town I’d grown up in. And Jack … I was new to noticing him but he had his own draw, with his bulging arms, smooth brown skin, and eyes deep enough to get lost in. Plus his serious nature made me question how seriously he took things in the bedroom.

  My imagination ran away with me on the bus back home. It wasn’t every day your three pack mates propositioned you, so I explored every possible outcome in my mind.

  LYRA

  Instead of going in the front door and risking coming across anyone, I climbed in like a criminal through my bedroom window. I managed to avoid face-planting my floorboards and the pile of laundry I’d apparently left there but only narrowly, my hands fumbling the cluttered desk to my right and my bedframe. Not my smoothest entrance but at least it was quiet and no one knew I was in yet.

  I didn’t smell great after the walk into Whitby and I wanted a shower before I spoke to anyone. Plus, a teeny tiny part of me wanted to look ultra-hot when I told my pack that I was accepting them as—or rather, inviting them to be—my mates. It was such a sacred bond and I didn’t want to propose it smelling like sweat, with mud from the abbey field spattered up my legs.

  I showered, snuck back to my room, and took an inordinately long time selecting what to wear. I eventually decided on a wine-red dress that flared around my hips, showed a decent amount of thigh—including the full moon and wolf pack I had tattooed there—and had an entirely lace back. I forewent a bra because it ruined the full effect of it and pulled on my favourite knee-length socks. They were black, comfortable as hell, and had a fold-down bit at the top that swore obscenely at anyone who ogled my legs.

  The outfit was probably enough but why stop there? I towel-dried my hair as much as possible and let it settle around my shoulders, and did my make-up. Killer contour and foundation, perfect eye liner, and dark red lipstick to match my dress. I stood back and gave myself a cursory glance. I looked hot. And I realised another reason for making myself look good as my spine straightened and the knot in my chest eased—battle armour to chase off the last of my doubt.

  I took a swig from a bottle of JD I kept in my desk drawer for emergencies and opened my door, casually walking down the hall to the front room. The TV was on so I knew someone was in. Jack, judging by the documentary playing.

  “Gray still sulking?” I asked, plopping into Cas’s armchair and kicking my feet up on the coffee table. I didn’t mean to give him a view up my skirt but oh well, Jack’s eyes flicked to me and lingered on the skin exposed at my thighs. I clicked my fingers to regain his attention and he glanced away, his cheeks going dark.

  “Yeah,” he replied, dragging his attention to the TV and keeping it there. “He stormed out a few hours ago and hasn’t come back. Where did you go?”

  “To see Rita,” I replied, making a token effort of understanding the TV show. Ancient temples. Not my thing. I gave up after a second. “She can’t help with what happened but she’s going to put a shield around the cottage.”

  “That’s kind,” Cas replied, and I turned my head to see him leaning against the door frame. His arms were crossed over his chest, broad shoulders straining the fabric of his navy T-shirt, and his blond hair falling into his eyes. His eyes, which were rimmed with red. My mood plummeted. I felt like shit for worrying him. “What is cost?”

  “None.” I shrugged to show I didn’t understand it either.

  Cas frowned but didn’t press the subject. I guess he planned to question Rita when she turned up later.

  “I went to see Hazel too,” I said, glancing away from them both. I couldn’t look either of them in the eye anymore so I took out my phone. Ah, Instagram feed, always there when I need you. “We talked,” I begrudgingly admitted. “It helped.” Every word was like pulling teeth.

  “Good,” Cas replied, his tone utterly ambiguous.

  I glanced up to read his expression but that was locked down too. Jack’s was more open, tightness around his eyes, his mouth in a flat line. I might have thought he was angry, but his restless fingers gave away his nerves; he was picking at the buttons on the TV remote hard enough to break them off. I watched MENU fly halfway across the room and drop into old Aunt Evgeniya’s vase of ashes. Good thing she didn’t haunt Cas, or we’d be feeling her wrath.

  “What did you decide?” Jack asked, as if the destruction had never happened.

  I took a deep breath. Then another. “You were right,” I admitted, scrolling through more photos of live gigs and band guys and flawless make-up looks so I didn’t have to see his face. When neither of them ventured a reply, I blurted out, “You said it was a good idea. And fine. Maybe it is.”

  Gray snorted. Where the fuck had he come from? I spun in the chair to fix him with a glare hot enough to burn off his skin but he wasn’t intimidated. “You took off for the whole day,” he said slowly, “told none of us where you were going, and when you finally return you say, fine, maybe it is?”

  My eyes went flat. Gray straightened; he’d known me long enough to read the signs of my impending temper flare. “That’s what you’re getting. Take it or leave it.”

  “We’ll take it,” Jack said in as calm a tone as ever, though quicker, like he thought I’d rescind what I’d said if he took a moment longer.

  I inhaled in relief. I’d presented my offer, and now they’d accepted.

  LYRA

  “If you want me to talk about my feelings,” I said, leaning back in the armchair, “you can all get the fuck out.”

  Gray snorted again.

  “I own house,” Cas pointed out casually.

  I pushed to my feet, thrilled to notice them all tense a bit, Gray on the verge of taking a step back. I kinda liked scaring them. “Are you doubting my ability to kick you out on your arse, Casimir Mrozinksi?”

  His rugged face did not change one single bit, but his silver eyes flickered with amusement like moonlit
fire. “Not for a second, Lyra Ripley.”

  “Good.” I crossed the two steps between us to prod him in the chest. He was all muscle; it was like trying to dent a statue. I looked away when he was silent, pinning Gray with a scowl, and then Jack, who now hovered a few steps behind me, everything about him wound tight. “None of you have anything to say?”

  “We’re hoping you don’t change your mind,” Gray said with a rogue grin. I swear he was more wolf than the rest of us.

  “Also,” Jack added, “we have no idea how this works.”

  I shrugged, flexing hands that wanted to ball into fists, as if fighting this discomfort was as easy as punching it. “You think I do? Ask Cas—it was his brilliant plan.”

  We all looked to our alpha. “It is same as a mating of two wolves. We protect each other always. It is no other way. Lyra, we give you what you need and always what you want. In normal bonds, it ends there.” He raised an eyebrow. Stupid eyebrow, being so perfect and conveying so much. He knew me too well.

  I nodded. “I want it to be equal. I’m not gonna be your trophy wife, and you’re not gonna be the ultimate protector. Like Cas said, we protect each other. That means I protect you, too. It means you better show your weaknesses if you expect me to show mine.”

  “That’s all fine,” Gray said, scratching the back of his neck and sending dark hair sticking up all over the place. “But what if I want to be your trophy wife?”

  I kicked him in the shin.

  “Hey—that’s not an answer. You don’t want to show this off at fancy parties?” He flexed non-existent arm muscles, pulled up his shirt to show off the place where washboard abs would be if he had them. Skinny, rangy wolf. I took the opportunity to poke his belly and he laughed, grinning.

  “You can be my eye candy, if you want,” I agreed with a long-suffering sigh.

  “Awesome.”