The Falk Clan Complete Series

by C. D. Gorri

  He’d spent most of his servitude waging war for a tyrant to atone for a crime that was not his. Father had failed them by falling in love a second time in his life with one who was not his. Edric was not fit to judge his sire for what his former clan chief saw as a heinous crime.

  All he could do was accept the punishment that tarnished his family honor. Like his brothers, he’d served. Five-hundred years he’d fought and was victorious more often than not. He’d learned early not to lapse in his training, mental focus and physical prowess were his best weapons. He’d survived hundreds of battles and yet, only one scar marred his pale skin.

  The small puncture wound was barely visible inside of the dark red rose that sat over his heart. His ruby rose. The mystical symbol of the bond that would connect him to his would-be-maiden. A Dragon needed a mate, else he would die. It was really that simple.

  It was a ragged looking thing. Thin and shriveled among all the bulging muscles of his arms, chest, and abdomen. It had once been on the verge of blooming, only to be struck down. The pain had been like a knife to his heart. Never again.

  His lips formed a thin line as he headed to his bathroom. He slammed the door shut and vowed once again that he would never be taken in by the opposite sex again. I will die first.

  His vow echoed inside his mind’s eye, and he closed his eyes at the roar of his beast inside him. He was angry and wounded. A fierce pain shot through that empty place inside of him. He would die alone. The thought was terrifying.

  Edric could feel the furious pounding of his heart. The heart he and his Dragon shared. It was hard and hollow. Of no use to him any longer, as he would never find a mate in that cruel and fickle world. Still, the beast stirred within him, bitter and demanding.

  Edric gasped as he struggled to rein in his other half. Furious anger coursed through his blood. He needed release. The air outside echoed the sound Edric made as he threw his head back and roared. The two sounds combined were deafening.

  Like each of his brothers, Edric was more than just a Dragon shifter. He was a ThunderDragon. Rare and unique as the ruby red scales that glittered across his back, lightening to a fiery gold on his chest, he could call upon the weather to hurt his enemies.

  The connection, however, also meant the weather could sometimes reflect his moods. Storms seemed to rage around him. Lightning and thunder abounded in his presence. Betrayal did that to a Dragon. He dropped his head to his chin and closed his eyes allowing the spray of the shower to drown out his temper.

  He would not dwell on the past anymore tonight. After all, he was home now to celebrate his brother. Edric blew out a breath and looked at his room. Except for the bed, the room was sparsely furnished. The pieces were expensive and elegant, but still, it was missing something. In fact, his entire wing was missing something.

  Clean and functional, he told himself. Impersonal was closer to the truth. The warrior in him didn’t have any fond memories that he cared to recollect. His soon to be sister-in-law, Noelle, had asked his youngest brother, Sander, to make him one of the prize tapestries he was renowned for in their world. He’d been honored by so valuable a gift.

  It was the only piece of art to grace his walls. The tapestry depicted Edric in Dragon form, the glittering crimson scales winked at him in the light from the sun that streamed in through the large glass window. They had no neighbors in sight, so he hadn’t bothered with curtains or drapes.

  Edric had lived behind stone walls too long. He liked the sense of freedom he got from the uninhibited view. He thoroughly approved of Callius’ choice to build Castle Falk on the sea. The view was breathtaking. He never imagined he’d see the New World, much less live in it.

  From what he’d heard, he expected New Jersey to be an unfinished, smog infested wasteland of degenerates. However, much to the contrary, he found it to be surprisingly beautiful. He was fond of the aptly named Garden State.

  His bathroom was enormous, like the rest of the castle. White and gold veined marble ran across the floors. The shower stall was large enough to fit four of him inside, and with a single voice command he was able to turn on all six shower-heads. His preferred temperature and water pressure already programmed into the main controls.

  His brother Nikolai was the resident techie genius. Edric did not necessarily like technology, but he was getting used to it. He increased the room temperature and ordered a little mood music while he soaped himself up. The smell of clementines and lemons filled the room. Yes, he thought, he did like modern times and conveniences.

  Then again, anything was better than where he’d spent the last five-hundred years as a prisoner on the Isle of Pain. The name was perfect.

  It was a cold, dark, and desolate place. His memories of it even darker. Especially, when he thought of his once almost-betrothed. No, Edric, do not think of her. He tried to turn his thoughts to something else, but it was too late.

  His mind raced back to a time when he was younger, more foolish. When all he dreamt about was tasting freedom again. The unfairness of their bondage always in the forefront of his mind back then, he’d raged silently against the tyrant who’d imprisoned them.

  He’d planned to break his bonds through his prowess on the battlefield. A skilled and fearsome warrior, he planned to increase his value to the clan Chief, to make a life for himself there.

  He’d been young and foolish then. His goal shifted from freedom to a different type of bondage. He worked and fought to build up enough esteem to request the right to mate, to claim the wench who’d captivated him. She who had served at his former Chief’s beck and call.

  Theodosia’s platinum hair hung down in glowing pools around her hips as she climbed on top of him. Her pale skin was marred with the dirt of her toils for the day, but he didn’t mind. Edric was dusty and bloody after his latest battle, but she liked him that way, or so she said. She rode him long and hard, groaning loudly as she fondled her own breasts and flung her head back.

  She smelled of rose oil and lye as always. Prime ingredients for the soap she crafted for the Chief himself. She toiled away daily in a small, dark room in the basement of Castle Blackthorne. Edric had once been called on to deliver the sharp smelling lye to her workroom, and that was where he’d met her.

  He enjoyed the feel of her soft, warm body as he thrust in and out of her womanhood. After the day’s battle, he was tired and spent, but he could never get enough of the pretty thing who moaned astride him. She slowed her pace just as he was about to explode inside of her and he gripped the hay bale he sat on in frustration, but she grinned haughtily and stopped her movement altogether.

  “What have you brought me, Edric, my brave one, come now, give it, or I shall sit here and not move a muscle,” she raised her hands and caressed his slick chest while he gasped and tried to move. She was as strong as she was stubborn, his Theodosia, and she sat straight up, sending shivers of frustrated delight up his shaft, but not moving a muscle more.

  “My gift, Edric, now,” she said and brought her fingers to her nipples and squeezed and pulled, tempting and teasing him with the sight.

  He knew she wouldn’t continue their tryst without a trinket. She’d stop cold, she’d done so before. He understood that now. He pulled a strand of silk from his dirty and worn pocket. From the middle of the red ribbon hung a large black pearl. It was rare and precious, as was his time with her.

  “Tis lovely, Edric, but I want more,” she pinched one flat, male nipple as she lifted herself almost all the way off him, but Edric would have none of that. Not when he felt so near to bursting. He reached into his pocket again, this time pulling out a small sack of gold coins.

  Theodosia’s eyes lit with pleasure, and she slammed back down on his thick cock making him growl with pleasure. He plunged in and out of her a few times more, desperate for his completion. The brief oblivion that came when his cock was spent was worth the game and toil, he’d told himself. Afterwards, he’d scurried back to his confinement.

  “Soon, Thea, y
ou will be mine,” he’d often told her. As usual, she seemed not to hear him. So wrapped up was she in admiration of the pearl he’d given her, his voice had fallen on deaf ears. It was just her way, he’d told himself, she’d never spoken soft words to him. It did not matter. He was ready to mate.

  Sure, stealing from the plunder of Chief Blackthorne was unwise, but he had to have her. His ruby rose was wilting for certain. She must be the one to see it reach full bloom. Why else would his body lust so for hers? Each minute he’d spent in that hole, she’d been his light in all the darkness. His heart, his true mate, just like his mother had once said to him.

  A week or so after their last tryst, the Chief summoned Edric to his quarters. It was an unusual request, but he was nothing to refuse. Edric had entered the opulently decorated rooms as soon as he was bid to do so. The sight that greeted him would haunt him all his days.

  His Theodosia bent over on all fours among the pile of dusty furs and stained silks. She heaved great gasping breaths, grinning and moaning like a wildcat as his jailer, Chief Dragomir Blackthorne, thrust into her from behind. Her moans echoed inside the caverns of his mind, recorded there for all eternity. The site of her pushing her sweat-streaked body back into the soft, flabby, white flesh of his then Chief burned his eyes. Edric’s heart turned to stone that very night.

  “You see how she howls like a dog, Edric, does she do this for you?” The Chief had laughed and laughed through his pink stained lips as he thrust his unsightly body into his Thea, the woman Edric loved.

  He tried to leave the room, but the Chief’s guards held him and forced him to watch as Dragomir fucked the woman Edric had thought to mate. When he was finished, he lifted his long, braided hair to show off his black pearl choker.

  “What thinks you of this trinket from my bitch here? Ha ha ha, tasty is it not?”

  Later he’d gone straight down to his cell, prepared to end the pain that pierced his heart. He lifted his sharpest dagger and drove it into his chest, but Dragons were never easy to kill. Callius, his brother and fellow warrior, flew into the room in the nick of time. He would not see his brother dead yet.

  Edric was roused from his past by the sound of his cell phone’s alarm. Fuck. He had only thirty-minutes to dress for Sander’s rehearsal dinner.

  Time to be pleasant and sociable. Fuck me. Duty called. Edric was good with duty. It was his brother’s wedding weekend, and, for the first time, all four brothers would be in residence at Castle Falk.

  It was momentous indeed.

  CHAPTER 1

  Joselyn looked down at her cell phone and cringed. Ugh. Not now. It was her business line. The one she used for her psychic website. Customers could phone in their questions for a fee as opposed to filling out the online form and buying a package.

  She offered tarot card readings, dream interpretations, clairvoyant readings, scrying and more. A lot of people thought this kind of thing was uber scammy, you know, run by con artists and criminals. But every now and then, someone was, in fact, the real deal. Joselyn Coracao was that real deal. She was a Witch. An actual, magic-wielding Witch.

  All Witches have talents or gifts, and for Joselyn, that meant her psychic capabilities. Most Witches don’t receive their gifts until after they’ve reached puberty, but not her. Nope, she was reading other people’s minds and getting visions since she could speak.

  Not an easy thing for a child to understand. Especially, given the number of inappropriate thoughts that went through people’s minds every second. It took her a very long time to get a handle on her talents. Even now, she sometimes struggled with that her talents. The thing about her brand of magic was, well, it didn’t always cooperate.

  Visions and her psych-vibes as she called them, didn’t just happen when she was working. Oh no, they could strike at any moment. The more opportune, the better it seemed. Nowadays, Joselyn specialized in precognition and scrying. She had a true gift for reading the future and locating lost or stolen items and sometimes. Even lost people.

  Mind reading was much more difficult for her nowadays. She assumed it had something to do with getting older and more jaded. However, Joselyn never questioned her gifts. She used them responsibly and did everything she could to maintain balance in her craft.

  The thing about Witches that not everyone knew was that there was only a finite supply of magic in the universe. Each Witch had their own store of magic that they were either born with or that was left to them by someone. However, talent ran much differently.

  Some talents or gifts could be inherited. A talent was an affinity a Witch showed for a certain type of Magic. Everyone had their own gifts, even in the supernatural world. And talents, like clairvoyance or telekinesis, was like having blonde hair or blue eyes, they could be inherited. For example, a certain Witch family might be renowned for their potions or spellcasting, and some could come out of nowhere.

  Joselyn’s talent was the latter. She was the only born psychic in her family, and she had only a small supply of magic. Her knowledge of her family and past was miniscule. A fact she always thought was kind of funny. The psychic Witch didn’t know where she got her gifts! Ha ha.

  Ugh. Her phone rang again. It was him. Her business line had caller ID. Still, no matter what number he called from, she always knew when he was on the other line. She cursed under her breath and wished for the millionth time that she could’ve read his mind when she met him.

  Then she could have avoided this whole mess. That creep was the entire reason she was back to begging for a handout from the local coven. It was also why she’d stopped dating.

  Joselyn didn’t do covens. She had little to offer and wasn’t into the whole “greater good” philosophy they had. Yes, she used her powers for good, but she wasn’t about to devote every waking moment to tending the woods and gifting her limited powers to the entire coven. She’d be at their beck and call.

  Joss look up this person for me, find my lost wedding dress, tell me if so and so would be a good match for my granddaughter, on and on it would go until she found herself burnt out from it all. Ugh, not again.

  She clicked the end button and turned to look at her best friend and her almost sister-in-law as they took turns trying on their dresses for this weekend’s celebration. Noelle was getting married, and Joselyn couldn’t be happier for her. If only her creep of an ex would stop blowing up her cell phone! But that was the price she paid for being foolish and ignoring the warning bells that she’d gotten when the smooth-talking reporter discovered her psychic abilities.

  Now he wouldn’t leave her alone, and she was getting worried. Normals tended to get addicted to magic. That was one of the reasons why she’d kept her talents secret. She always avoided telling the normals in her life that she was anything more than a run-of-the-mill phone psychic. Except this time.

  Luke Simpson, her ex-boyfriend of sorts, knew the truth. Joselyn was a Witch, and she was clairvoyant. She was not a powerful caster, and she didn’t make the best potions, but she had magic. She often got strong psychic vibes that led to accurate and sometimes helpful visions.

  Noelle interrupted her musings with a loud squeal as she lifted the confection of white silk and lace from the gift bag Joselyn had given her. Her best friend had a thing for matching lingerie which was why Joselyn had bought her the ridiculously expensive garter.

  It went with the rest of the underthings Noelle had ordered for her wedding night. The garter was beautiful! It was the finest silk and lace and had tiny, delicate, blue roses sewn all around it.

  “Joselyn, this is beautiful! Thank you!” She hugged her friend tightly. The two of them had been close since they were teenagers.

  They’d grown up together. Joss and Noelle had spent hours agonizing over exams, learning how to apply make-up, crying over boys, and doing all those things young girls did before turning into women. She couldn’t believe her BFF was getting married!

  Not that Noelle didn’t deserve it. The lovely brunette was the kindest and most optim
istic person Joss knew, and she deserved all the happiness in the world. She sighed and tried not to cry as she watched Noelle unzip the white garment bag to reveal the gown that Joselyn, as her maid-of-honor, would be wearing.

  “Tada! You are going to look gorgeous in this color! Won’t she, Fred? It’s positively divine! And yours is going to go great with your new baby bump! I am so excited, I get to be a bride and an aunt in just a few days!” Noelle jumped up and down like a kid in a candy store as she showed her best friend and her soon to be sister-in-law the gowns she chose for her bridal party.

  “Oh Noe, I’ve got months to go yet! But yes, I agree, they are perfect, I love the color and the fact that both dresses are completely different! They are going to look perfect!” Fred smiled at Noelle and held her deep red gown up to her body.

  Winifred Falk was all sleek and toned except for the small, perfectly round bump where she carried hers and Callius’ first child. Her dress was an empire waist that flowed down in several long layers of the softest silk to her feet. It would line her beautiful frame in the best possible way, but when you had that to work with anything would look great.

  Joselyn looked down dubiously at the red gown in her hands. The cut was different, but it was made from the same delicate silk in that same shade of deep crimson. Perfect for a striking Werewolf, but for a short, chubby Witch? She had her doubts.

  Joselyn bit her lip and looked back over at the pregnant bridesmaid. Winifred, or Fred, as she was known locally, was absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous. She was about the same height as Joselyn, but with multifaceted blonde hair and silver eyes. She was athletically built, as Werewolves tended to be, and had flawless, fair skin.

  Her pregnancy only seemed to enhance her beauty. Joselyn knew carrying a child was difficult for Werewolves, but Fred seemed perfectly fine and as lovely as ever. She subconsciously rested a hand on her belly while Noelle went on and on about the materials and cut of the gown. Matte silk crepe, snug bodice, acres of material in the skirt, side slit…