Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Book 1: The Missing Queen
Book 2: The Ripple Effect
Book 3: The Lost Tiro
Book 4: The Long Journey
Aris (Stratham Shifters Book 1) Preview
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
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Blane
Stratham Shifters | Book 5
Sarah J. Stone
Contents
Blane
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Blane
Chapter 1
Surrounded by the others, Blane felt himself shrinking under mixed emotions. His heart raced as his body went through mental whiplash. Nothing could compare to this. Such incredible pain overtook his body, mind, and hell, even his soul. It was days like today where he wished he could find a cave to hide in. Get away from it all.
It hurt.
Especially now that there were two more dragons, and to make matters worse, another one with child. He kept his face neutral and his body calm. It was his greatest strength, but inside he was anything but calm—or fine for that matter. Every emotion took a toll on his psyche, and he worried one day he wouldn’t be able to bounce back like he could now.
Every emotion hurt to varying degrees. Every day he hurt, and until he found his mate to help him stay balanced he would suffer. But Blane didn’t want to find a cave and hide from the world. It was why he tried so hard to find ways to control how much he felt. Some days were better than others.
He stood off to the side, keeping the whole tribe in his line of sight. Leaning against the wall, he was the picture of cool, calm, and collected. His hands were shoved in his pockets, clenched in fists no one could see. His long braids were pulled back from his face, and he his mouth twitched. The new changes to his body, meant facial hair. He let the goatee grow, but it itched. On the surface, Blane was a regular, yet quiet man. He observed and listened more than spoke. He focused his attention on the elder woman with white hair and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Wrinkles lined her face from age—and now stress. She sat alone with her hands folded in her lap. She made the others nervous. Such a small woman packed a punch. She carried a lot secrets along with spells that could bury them all alive. She’d proved that when she’d sent Zarin into a magical coma and into his own personal hell.
Bev was a mess of emotions and magic. She was a damn powerful witch—and she was asking for his help.
Not just the dragons’ help, but his in particular. That had to mean something, right? Not that he really wanted to help her. No good came from being a part of a witch’s life. They were chaotic. And as she aged so would her power. That meant that in 20 more years she would be unstoppable.
Secrets lurked behind her eyes. Pain and suffering by the hands of dragons proved how much she really needed his help. She had to be desperate. He knew that even though she and Willow had bonded, didn’t mean she’d suddenly decided to trust them all. He gave her props for coming to them, but he didn’t like what he heard.
Purple dragons had the best standing with the witches’ council, she said. It made sense. They were the least volatile. But could he really do what she asked of him? Her life might depend on him, and Willow would be devastated if anything happened to her.
He loved the feisty red head; although hers was brighter than his own red hair, who for some reason, had grown very attached to the witch in a very short period of time. She looked at him with those large green eyes showing the docile sweet side she kept hidden away behind tough love and sarcasm. There was one person who was able to tame her less than stellar stunted emotions. It was pitiful how much Cai managed to soften her. She was still a hard ass, but her heart had grown since the boy had come into their lives. He was so full of life and love. It made it difficult to be stern with him, and lucky for him, the boy couldn’t read his mind like he could the others. Must have been part of his own gifts.
“Please Blane.”
He sighed. How could he tell her no when he could sense the ache inside of her growing? Feel the attachment of a woman who saved her and loved her. She’d become a surrogate mother to Will.
Dammit.
“What do I need to do?”
Willow jumped up from Zarin’s lap and closed the distance between them. She wrapped her thin arms around him and pulled him tight. He gasped, not used to her showing affection. She wasn’t one to touch without warning.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
There was something in her tone. He hugged her back and made sure not to tense when her fingers dug into his skin as much as her emotions dug into his mind like tiny, sharp claws. Her mind was a mix of so much conflict. He had no idea how much she held back, and for once he realized how well she guarded. That became useless once touch was involved but he was grateful she shielded on a regular basis. He wasn’t sure he would be able to handle her without her guards up. He sucked in a quiet breath feeling her sincerity.
It made the others uncomfortable when he reacted to their closeness. They couldn’t understand his power, but she seemed to forget his gift for that moment. As soon as he shuddered she pulled away and frowned. Her eyes dilated and she remembered he could feel her emotions. Her eyes told him she was sorry, backing off asked him to keep what he knew to himself. He nodded. Keeping secrets was sort of his thing.
“You’re welcome.”
She was still close enough to hear the change in his heart. It matched hers. She was a mess of emotions. He wondered what was bothering her—besides Bev’s situation. Not that he’d ask. She’d come to him, if she wanted. He never been one to push.
Bev watched their interaction with mild curiosity. He didn’t worry about what the witch would find. He had his own magic defense system. One that he knew for sure she wouldn’t be able to breach. Or at least he hoped she wasn’t that powerful. The things he kept locked inside weren’t just his own to keep secret. Everyone he came in contact left an imprint on his mind. If she delved deep enough she’d find out the juicy bits from nearly everyone in Stratham.
“You are the perfect beast for what I need.” She frowned. “I know they’re coming to take me to trial. I received word from an associate of mine, but if you
take me to them, then it will be less--uncomfortable”
The word associate spoke of mystery and probably nothing he wanted to involve himself with.
“And what difference does it make whether you have a dragon? I thought witches and dragons didn’t get a long.”
“On the contrary, witches and dragons have a very long and mixed history. The council is old school,” She sat up and huffed as if her next admission wasn’t something she wanted to say—or agreed with.
“Having a dragon, such as yourself, will show my ties to the magical community, but dragons don’t work with, nor associate with dark practitioners or necromancers. Any of the dark arts is supposed to be off limits to dragons. This will show the council I have a pure support system.”
“Support system?”
Again, Bev huffed. The topic made her uncomfortable. She was tense and unease radiated off her. “Dragons and witches normally have strong connections. They can feed off each other’s magic. They can be a formidable pair. They enhance each other’s magic. Or they can if not abused.”
He pulled his hands out of his pockets feeling better. The tension eased from the room once he’d agreed to help. He crossed his arms across his chest. “So, our kinds used to intermingle?”
“All the time. If there were dragons—there were always witches and vice versa.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure how it is now. I’ve cut myself away from the coven.”
“That’s a lie. I know for a fact the King works with demons.” He looked at Evander who shrunk from his stare. Not that Blane blamed him for his past, but the truth was, some dragons worked with dark practitioners.
Blane shuddered. Demons freaked him out.
Bev’s eyes went dark. “That’s new. As far as I know. It shouldn’t happen. Demons lie and Dragons are too self-absorbed to work with dark magic. They aren’t willing to give away pieces of their souls.”
“Apparently some don’t care anymore,” Evander mumbled.
Blane understood his disdain. A demon had marked him with the darkest magic possible. Lucky for him though, finding his mate broke the link.
“That’s so unusual. I wonder what made them stoop so low?”
Blane realized she was fishing, but no one was going to tell her that the King was trying to destroy all of the dragons in Stratham—and he was a blood relative to Aris.
“So, I go with you to this council and what?”
She stood up and planted her hands on her hips. The frustration was still apparent. “You keep me from getting killed. I never meant to hurt Zarin. I was just trying to help. Sometimes my magic gets away from me. It happens.”
He chuckled. “Happens? You put him into a magical coma so deep, if not for Will he wouldn’t have survived it.”
Her eyes clouded and she looked to her feet. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve tried making it up to him, but he wants nothing from me.”
“Damn right I don’t,” Zarin said. His voice was rough. “It’s all fine now, though. No hard feelings.”
The room had gone silent when he spoke. His voice always was menacing. No one could ever tell if he was angry or not. Though he was much softer with Willow and Cai. That didn’t extend to anyone else though.
“Well, if I help you, what happens to me?”
“I honestly don’t know. I just know that someone is coming for me, and they aren’t going to be nice. I would like your protection.” The words slipped out slow and unsteady. It was a true hardship for her to get those words to cross her thin lips. She didn’t hide the fact that she needed help. But the situation, no matter how it was spun, called for it. He was stronger even being sick.
She didn't’ like asking for help. Especially not from dragons. Blane didn’t fully understand why; not even after he short explanation. If Dragons and Witches had such good relationships, why did it seem like she was disgusted by the thought of being so entwined with them?
“Well, I’ll help, though I’m not sure how much good it will really be for you. You’ve helped Will.”
That satisfied the witch. “Fair enough.”
He didn’t like this. Unease pricked down his spine. He had a feeling something was going to happen.
***
“What do you mean you’re moving?”
Dallas sighed into the phone. Her sister drove her mad. She was younger and yet she thought she knew what was best. “I refuse to do chemo. You know that.”
“But driving across the country for some—alternative medicine, are you mad?”
“I’m lucky to have gotten accepted, Tali.”
“Right.”
“Don’t be like that. You’ll come visit.”
Now it was her sister’s time to sigh, and her voice softened. “Of course I will. I just worry that’s all.”
“I know, but I have to do this. I know you don’t believe, but this is Fate.”
Tali didn’t have anything to say. She knew their beliefs were different, and there was no way in hell she was doing chemo. No way she was going to be sick as a dog for something that wouldn’t even work—or lose her hair. Maybe it was vein, but so be it. Her hair was the one thing about herself that she absolutely loved. It was a beautiful chestnut color, and no matter how much it grew it was curlier than getting a perm. Each ringlet bounced when she walked. It was something she actually took the time to keep in perfect condition.
She’d made up her mind the moment the doctor told her that she was too far into the sickness. Chemo might not even work. The chances were slim, from his opinion. However, he told her about a Doctor Carlyle.
Moving to Stratham and participating in a magical intervention was her last hope. Hell, it was her only hope.
“Fine, but you better call me every day.”
That was excessive even for her overbearing sister. “Tali, everyday?”
“Yes, promise me.”
This wouldn’t end well if she didn’t agree. “Okay, okay I give. I’ll call every day.”
“Thank you.”
“Now I have to go pack. I love you little sister.”
“Love you too.”
Dallas set her phone on the table with trembling fingers. It was bad enough to be sick. It was worse to have to keep up with pretending she wasn’t terrified, but her sister didn’t need to see or hear her fear. If anything, it would make matters even more complicated.
She blinked back the tears, but one dripped on the paper in front of her. “Well crap.”
She wiped her eyes and studied the words she’d written. Saying goodbye wasn’t easy, but lying was even worse. The plan was set in motion.
If this doctor couldn’t heal her—
But first she needed her sister to know how much she loved her. It was the point of the letter. It was a testament to everything she’d been going through, had gone through, and what was to come. This wasn’t a typical trial. In fact, Dr. Carlyle made it very clear that only a select few candidates were chosen.
She was one of the lucky ones.
1 Week Later
Dallas wasn’t lucky enough to have been able to find an apartment at such short notice, but the hotel would do. It made sense. If there was no hope, she wouldn’t be sticking around. The room was large and homey. It reminded her of the bed and breakfast her mother took her and Tali to when they were children. It smelled like flowers, but it wasn’t overpowering like it could have been and was painted in pale yellow. It was soothing to her surprise. In a week, there’d only been one complaint about her consistent vomiting. After she explained her situation to the manager everyone was much nicer about her.
One week into her new journey and tingles of anticipation filled her. Today was the first appointment. Nothing would come of it. It was more of an interview from what the nurse explained to her. A way to get to know her and figure out if her ‘chi was compatible with his.’
Whatever that meant.
She hoped it was considering it was likely he wouldn’t help her
if it wasn’t it. The nurse made a big show of telling her Dr. Carlyle only worked with those he was spiritually compatible with. It left room for less errors, she’d said.
She’d aged in the last week. Her walk was unsteady, hands shook, and she could sleep anywhere—at any time. Eating was up to the gods. Some days were better than others. Unfortunately, today wasn’t one of them. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and vomiting.
The joys of cancer.
She spit the toothpaste out and frowned when she still tasted her last attempt at dinner. Keeping her spirits up she forced her frown into a smile. There was no need to be negative. It certainly didn’t help matters. Today was the day. She’d find out if there was any hope left to be had.
Or if final preparations needed to be made.
She swore she wouldn’t allow her family to suffer her loss. Not that she’d be around to stop it, but she wanted it to be as painless as she possibly could. There was no reason to mourn her. She wanted her sister to celebrate their life together. To move on and live the way she always dreamed. Get married and have babies, lots of them. Dallas would love to have nieces and nephews and if she lived she’d get to see their birth when the time came. She knew she couldn’t have children. That was already deemed impossible.
***
She wasn’t sure what to expect when she parked her car. The parking lot was empty except for a few cars and a giant black SUV. She slid out of the car careful not to touch the car with her bare arm. Everything hurt, but she took a deep breath and stepped into the sun. Finally, the winter weather was gone. The cold hurt her bones so deep there had been many days she hadn’t even been able to get out of bed.
For the most part Spring had come with blooming flowers, light showers, and a warmth that winter lacked. April brought sun and sun provided vitamin D. And Vitamin D helped ease the sickness. She’d spent as much time outside as her body allowed. Each day was harder than before. It was almost like once the doctor back home gave her the diagnosis, it gave it permission to take over and rule every breath she took.
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