FREY'S MATE (Shifters of the Bulgarian Bloodline Book 3)

by Dalia Wright

“Yeah, well, we're not taking chances.”

  Yanus blinked sleepily as Luelle was tossed into his room. “Wha – ?”

  Frey reached for her Taurus, and Yanus suddenly became wide awake, his green eyes glowing. Frey placed a finger to her lips before bounding downstairs with her brother, even as the pounding continued to echo through the entrance.

  By the door, Evo called, “Who is it? Who is knocking so early in the morning?”

  “Elinor,” a muffled voice responded. “Elinor Spirova.”

  Frey shivered fear. Fuck. One of the ancient families.

  “Why are you here? Tell us, please!” Evo bit back a growl.

  “Because I need to talk to you. I'm alone. You may be in grave trouble.”

  Evo stared wildly at Frey, who shrugged, mouthing “Can we trust her?”

  “What trouble? And how do you know the trouble will be here?”

  “A vengeance party is coming. Whatever happened with you guys, you didn't clean up well enough. The Koroslavs know their son is dead. They know one of the Armanev sons is hiding Luelle – because some idiot sent a text message to his parents. And if you remember, they have a Koroslav relative in the family.”

  Oh, shit. I remember that message! “Why are you telling us this?”

  Elinor scratched at the door, her powerful, deep voice reverberating through Frey's ears. “Because three Russian clans have decided to cross into Bulgaria and they've slaughtered members of my pack in the surrounding towns. They're infecting humans, breaking our laws. And they're going to march right up to the seat of power and demand for Luelle, or a blood vengeance. Given their frenzy, even if we offer Luelle, they might just decide to screw us over anyway. We will look ripe for the picking to them.”

  At this, Frey opened the door, revealing a tall, Valkyrie of a woman, dark yellow eyes resplendent in her face. She looked like a product of the mountains, a child raised with the knowledge of the cold and the dark. Every inch an Alpha.

  Elinor nodded, her lips curling in a snarl. “We need every fighter we can get. And we may need this place to become a hospital and refuge. I'll post some steep protection in this town. As for Luelle, because I know she's probably here...” Elinor strode in, sniffing the air. “Yes, I smell her. You'll need to take her with my brother Markus, to his place in America. However, he's not going to be going back to America straight away. He's here to kill Ricten Spirova.”

  Frey blinked. “Markus Spirova... kill... Ricten Spirova?”

  “Ricten is a mad dog. He should have been put down years ago. He's the same ilk as the Lubanovs, and we all know what happened to them.”

  Frey sighed, heading to a chair and sitting in it. “This is fucked up. I don't even know what to do.”

  Elinor ignored her, now prowling around the hotel to check the rooms. Her short, dark blonde hair tufted around the collar of her jacket. Evo and Frey followed after the Alpha, who nodded in approval at the rooms. “Yes. This will be a good base.”

  Finally, she walked into the room with Luelle and Yanus Armanev, who both growled at her as she entered. With a vicious bark and a flash of yellow eyes, her presence cowered the wolf in Luelle, but rankled the one in Yanus. He stood up, matching the snarl, his teeth sharpening, hairs beginning to form on his hands.

  “You still have bite. Good,” Elinor spat. A smile covered her contorted features. “You'll need it.” She glided out of the room, closely followed by Evo.

  Yanus blinked in utter confusion, the ferocity dissipating from his face. “What? What the hell was that?”

  Frey flumped on the bed beside him. “Trouble.” Frey stared at the empty corridor, where Elinor and Evo had gone.

  “Why is she here?”

  “Trouble,” Frey repeated. She explained about the Russian clans, the message Yanus had sent to his family which resulted in the knowledge passing on. He started trembling in guilt and frustration, and Frey clutched his hand tightly.

  “It will be okay. We'll get through this. We'll protect your sister.”

  “If they kill my whole family because of this...” Yanus squeezed her hand, almost crushing the bones in it. Frey endured, hissing deeply.

  “We'll get through it.”

  Luelle, sensing that they needed a moment, made her excuses and departed from the room, leaving Frey and Yanus alone.

  “Frey. I'm so sorry. We brought this on you.”

  “Don't be sorry. We chose to take you in. We chose to help.”

  Yanus pulled her in close, transitioning from crushing the bones in her hand to squishing the air out of her lungs. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. We're in this together.”

  “I love you,” he whispered into Frey's ear, then making her gasp in surprise.

  Whatever she'd been expecting, that wasn't it. She pulled back from the hug to stare into his haunting green eyes, her heart thumping painfully.

  “Didn't think you'd ever hear those words, did you?” He said slyly, some of his fear turning into amusement.

  Frey merely shook her head, speechless, before finally rasping, “We're probably all gonna die due to rabid Russian werewolves and you decide now that this is a good time to say something like that?”

  “Better before we die. And you're certainly a one of a kind woman.”

  “Fuck,” Frey said. She lay on the bed, happy and despairing at the same time. “Fuck you.”

  “Gladly,” Yanus said, grinning.

  Frey laughed, placing an arm over her eyes. To hear someone say those words to her and mean it, it melted all the hard points over her heart. It pissed her off as well, because she knew that things were likely going to go to shit in the next few weeks, and Yanus needed to disappear to America with Luelle.

  Maybe she should go with him. Would her little brother come? Would he stay?

  She thought about his affection toward Luelle.

  Steel entered her resolve.

  For better or for worse, it seemed the Radev siblings had twisted their lives with the Armanev ones.

  Where Yanus went, she would follow. She reached for his hand again, and held it gently. “I'm with you. Whatever happens. Wherever you go.”

  Lips brushed her cheek. “I'm counting on it.”

  The End

  The Preacher’s Daughter’s Secret

  By: Elaine Young

  CHAPTER ONE:

  Jake Owenson was crossing across Central Park on his way home when he saw Rosalie Mitchell standing in the corner of Fifth and 86th happily munching away on a hotdog. He did a double take and skidded to a stop.

  Was it? He asked himself. Could it be? He couldn’t believe his eyes and had to blink twice to make sure he wasn’t imagining things; after all, it had been more than six years since he had last laid eyes on the then twelve-year-old girl. He remembered a round, chubby face that always seemed to be smiling, mischief-filled blue eyes, and two thick golden, blond braids hanging over her shoulders. And before him stood a young woman on the cusp of womanhood. She was beautiful with her blond hair flowing in loose waves down her back, with a long, flowery dress that accentuated her shapely and graceful figure. He couldn’t be sure it was her, but he took a stab at it anyways.

  “Rosalie?”

  The slender girl turned at the sound of her name and searched the faces nearby to locate the voice. Her eyes skimmed over him – they were still the blue he remembered, but she obviously hadn’t recognized him. He took a few steps in her direction and called out to her again.

  “Rosalie, it’s me, Jake.”

  Her eyes snapped back towards him and recognition dawned on her face. She did a little two-step of excitement and clasped her hands together in delight.

  “Jake! Jake Owenson! How long has it been!”

  “Long enough that you didn’t recognize me!” he teased.

  “How could I when you’ve grown up so much! You are positively handsome now,” she teased him right back, thinking of the lanky, awkward boy of six years ago. There was definitely nothing awkward about
him now. The boyish features had filled out into a handsome face and the lanky frame looked solid and athletic. His floppy brown hair was groomed into a close cut which accentuated the straight nose and the strong jaw. Even his walk was different, she noted – it was cool and confidant.

  He blushed a little at the compliment, thinking how very grown up she had become. The girl he remembered had been rebellious and outspoken; some things had obviously remained unchanged.

  “What are you doing in the city?”

  “Enjoying some freedom! I’m here for Rumspringa,” she explained.

  “Oh,” Jake said, a dark cloud briefly shadowed on his face as he recalled his Rumspringa and his subsequent banishment from the community when he had decided he didn’t want to commit to the Amish faith.

  “Did you come with a lot of people?”

  “Nope, just on my own. But father doesn’t know that. He thinks Janice Greely, Isabelle Hendrix and I came together. Which we did, but we’re all doing our thing, and I haven’t seen them since getting here.”

  “Still being rebellious, huh.”

  “You know me,” she said lightly.

  “So are you enjoying your trip so far?”

  “I’m loving the trip! I think I might be falling in love with New York,” she gushed.

  “That’s how I felt when I came here. And I never looked back.”

  “Well I can see how that would happen.” She looked at her watch and looked at him. “Anyways, I won’t keep you much longer, I’m sure you were headed somewhere….”

  Jake was about to say that yes, he was on his way to a meeting, when he experienced an odd stirring within him. Gazing straight into her clear blue, sparkling eyes, he realized the emotion he was experiencing was attraction. And not just a passing attraction or appreciation for a good-looking woman, but a very physical longing to stay in her company, a reluctance to not let her go just yet. He realized he felt intrigued by her and wanted to spend more time with her. In fact, he wanted to ask her out, which wouldn’t be smart at all because she wasn’t a girl to trifled with, and he couldn’t offer her anything more because he was no longer a part of her world. Telling himself he must be logical, he prepared himself to say goodbye and to tell her it had been lovely seeing her, but he found himself asking her if she had any plans for the evening instead. As she happily told him her evening was wide open, he told himself it was just one dinner – how much harm could it really do?

  CHAPTER TWO:

  He was on top of her. Kissing every inch of her body. Well familiar with the touch of his skillful hands, Rosalie closed her eyes, anticipating his next move, aching to be consumed by his love. But just as things started to heat up her stomach rolled over and a wave of nausea startled Rosalie out of her sleep and broke through her dream. Her eyes snapped open and she realized with a whoosh of intense disappointment that it had all been nothing but a dream. She sat up straight and waited for the nausea to subside, but it didn’t and had her running for the bathroom. Once she was done she washed her face with cold water and buried her face in the towel waiting for the queasy feeling in her stomach to subside.

  This was the fifth night in a row she was waking up nauseous and sick. She could only conclude that she was so lovesick it was having a physical effect on her. Memories of the time she had spent with Jake in New York were crowding into her dreams now; she thought of him all day and all night…couldn’t help it…would she ever be free of him? It wasn’t very likely given everything that had transpired between them from the moment they had run into each other a few months ago. As she stepped out in to the hallway, the door across from her bedroom opened and Amanda’s concerned face peeked out.

  “Rosalie?” Her sister’s voice was groggy from sleep. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, everything’s fine,” Rosalie assured her, “Go back to sleep.”

  Amanda stifled a yawn and nodded.

  “Okay – if you’re sure.”

  Rosalie made her way back into bed and muffled her groans of frustration into her pillow. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? From the moment she had run into him by Central Park, her entire trip had quickly become centered around him. After that first dinner together they had become virtually inseparable. Things between them had moved at a shockingly fast pace. Part of it was timing constraints, since both Jake and Rosalie knew they wouldn’t have much time together, they didn’t bother wasting any by playing games. But part of it was they had clicked instantly. And the physical attraction was undeniable.

  She remembered their first kiss… It had happened after two weeks of seeing each other almost every day. They were watching the skaters at Rockfeller Center when she had turned to him and asked him bluntly why he had made no attempts to kiss her or touch her at all.

  “Don’t you find me attractive?”

  Jake had been flabbergasted by the question.

  “Of course I do,” he replied.

  “Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

  “Because… because Rosalie, you are so innocent and so pure, I can’t do that to you, especially when I can’t offer you anything more than whatever this is.”

  “Who said anything about offering me more?” she had challenged. “I’m here because I want to be here. I’m old enough to know what I want and I know I want you. I don’t want to be pure and innocent with you.”

  But Jake didn’t look convinced.

  “I can’t Rosalie; if I kiss you, I’ll be crossing a line and I don’t know where that line will end. I respect you too much to hurt you in any way.”

  She had smiled at him mischievously, flattered he found her so irresistible. She could tell from the stubborn set of his jaw he meant what he said. He wouldn’t stop being respectful and he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. So she decided to take matters into her own hand. Without breaking eye contact, she stepped closer towards him until their bodies were almost touching. She leaned her head towards him, her lips brushing against his ear and whispered,

  “Don’t you think it would be fun to find out where that line ends?” And then she kissed him.

  CHAPTER THREE:

  Amanda twisted her hands together; she did that whenever she was especially nervous. It was a childhood habit.

  “Rosalie, have you been feeling alright?”

  Puzzled by the question Rosalie shrugged her shoulders, “Yes of course. Why do you ask?”

  “Are you coming down with a flu or something?”

  “No, I’m completely fine.”

  “Well I’ve been hearing you up throwing up the last few nights…”

  “Oh.” A flush of color flooded Rosalie’s cheeks as she remembered her very explicit dreams about Jake.

  “I’m sure it’s just a stomach thing or something I ate that didn’t sit well with me.”

  “And you haven’t been feeling anything else? A little more tired than usual or sleepy?”

  That made Rosalie pause – now that she was thought about it she had been feeling extremely tired these past few weeks too. No matter how well she slept the night before, by midmorning she felt like all the energy had been sapped out of her.

  The look on Rosalie’s face was enough to answer Amanda’s question. She checked to make sure the bedroom door was still closed and listened for the sound of any footsteps in the hallway. Satisfied there was nobody outside their door she dropped her voice to whisper and asked bluntly,

  “Rosalie, when was the last time you had your period?”

  Rosalie was so shocked to hear Amanda ask about something she considered unladylike to discuss that the implication of what she was asking didn’t sink in right away.

  “Rosalie!” Amanda’s voice rose a little higher and she shook Rosalie’s hand gently to get her attention.

  “This is very important, when did you last have you period?”

  A sick feeling swirled in the pit of Rosalie’s stomach and another bout of nausea rolled over her. This one from fear, because as her brain scanned through dates and
times and quickly did the math, she realized what Amanda was getting at.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered softly before sinking to her feet. She turned large, fearful eyes towards Amanda, “Oh my God,” she repeated again. “What am I going to do?”

  Amanda went down on her knees until she was at eye level with Rosalie. Her eyes were filled with sorrow and sympathy.

  “Oh love, what did you do? Is it one of the boys here?”

  An image of Jake flashed before Rosalie’s eyes. Could he still be considered as one of the boys here? No. Her father had banished him from the community years ago. She shook her head.

  “No,” she said dully, “it isn’t one of the boys here.”

  “Rumpsringa.” Amanda concluded grimly.

  “Yes.”

  “How far along do you think you are?”

  “Maybe a month? A month and a half? I really don’t know,” Rosalie confessed, desperately thinking of the endless weeks of lovemaking she had enjoyed with Jake. She had no way of knowing which one of the times had resulted in this.

  “How can you not know? When did you…when…” Amanda struggled to find a delicate way of phrasing the question.

  “When did I have sex with him?” Rosalie asked bluntly. “It wasn’t just one night. It was many nights.”

  Amanda’s face blanched and Rosalie felt a wave of remorse at putting her sister through this, but there was no sense in lying about this. The proof was in the pudding, or in her oven, she thought wryly.

  Amanda took a few deep breaths before saying grimly, “Okay, well what’s done is done. First thing we’re going to do is go see a doctor to make sure you really are pregnant. No sense in jumping to conclusions until we’re absolutely sure.”

  They both knew they were grasping at straws but they clung to that hope desperately; maybe it was all a mistake and this truly was nothing more than a stomach virus.

  “How are we going to do that?”

  Going anywhere outside the community usually required dozens of explanations and more often than not, their father always insisted on joining them. In fact, she couldn’t remember ever being allowed somewhere without him.