by Lenore Wolfe
He grinned openly, now. “Well, it’s true. I couldn’t invite just anyone in here.”
“No,” she hissed. “You couldn’t very well do that.”
His brow lifted. “A feisty one, aren’t you.” He nodded, then began eating. After a long moment, he glanced at her. “I like my women feisty.”
She stared at him, astonished. “I’m your cousin. She’s your sister.” She stalled, unable to take this all in.
“What do you expect?” We can’t mate with humans,” he said. “We’d kill them.”
So, there it was—out there in the open—no longer hidden for her to pretend it didn’t exist.
“Well, there’s the Alliance,” he said. “But they’ve been hunting me all of my life.”
Jo’s throat closed on itself. But she clung to that one word like a lifeline. “The Alliance?” she breathed.
His gaze lifted and settled on her face. What she saw there caused the little hairs to wash up her back, standing one end.
“Well, yes,” he said, looking over at Katherine. “Didn’t you tell her?” He shrugged. “Well, no matter. You will never go there anyway.” He smiled at her, his food seemed to be forgotten. “They will only hunt you, too, if you try and contact them.”
Jo’s gaze narrowed on his face. “Who are they?” she said, her throat aching from the force it took to speak.
His head tilted to the side. “Why they’re the Jaguar People of course.”
Chapter Three
Mira
Mira sat back in her comfy overstuffed chair, letting its comfort hug her, watching Micah as he moved about the room—his bare chest covered in a sheen of sweat, his muscles flexing as he put himself through the moves. His dark hair shone in the midnight fire, and she swallowed under the intensity of her emotions. He sprang forward and Lucius blocked with his forearm, leaving a trail in the sand in his wake.
Mira swallowed. She almost forgot what she came out here to say to Micah, watching him move through his paces. The men were quick to order this chair brought out for her. They always pampered her this way. But still, an overstuffed chair—sitting by one of the Great Lakes. It made her smile—it was so sweet of them. Who’d have thought such soldiers could be so sweet?
Lucius had white hair, shot through with silver, clear to his waist, and a face that looked as if it were chiseled to perfection. He was taller than Micah, at least six-feet-four, and looked like he held a lot of muscle on his frame. He wore a white tunic, something like you might see in the movies. His eyes were violet, his skin nearly translucent, it was so white. It looked like alabaster.
Lucius wasn’t human—he was Starborne. His looks often caused some of the other races to mistake him for the one who was the prophecy.
Micah, on the other hand, looked like an exotic, beautiful prince, with skin of deep chocolate and eyes so dark they were nearly ebony, fringed in dark, curly lashes. His was sinfully beautiful. His face looked carved, with the deepest perfection.
Both men lived so long, they were often thought of as immortal. They weren’t. But they’d lived for thousands of years, so she could see how that idea would have got started.
They’d spent much of that time—waiting for her.
Mira still couldn’t believe how much her life had changed this past year, since they brought her to them again, in this lifetime. She’d lived through many lifetimes with these two. But she also lived lifetimes with several others. Yet, these were the two, plus Roman and Caesar, who waited for her through several of her lifetimes. These four men rarely left her side, since she’d returned to them in this one.
She’d been Alexandra in her first life, with Lucius, and that’s how she came to him since. She shared her body with who she was to each of the others, in her past lives. As Lady Isabelle, with Caesar, and Morrigana, with Roman. She always came through as one of these women, when they came through to love their men, in this lifetime. But even though she’d been Nadia, in her past life with Micah, she always came to him as herself, whenever she was with Micah.
Mira watched him now, with a longing that caused him to miss his step, and Lucius grinned as he took full advantage, laying Micah out flat. She covered her mouth to smother the laugh, threatening to bubble up, as he got off the floor and came over to her. She grinned at him as he hauled her out of the chair and into his arms, kissing her until she was breathless with desire.
Mira poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen with a newspaper. There was a lot of violence in the city, of late. This city always had a lot of violence—but there was a lot more than usual. Which was why Justice decided to move them to one of the mansions owned by the Alliance. As she sat there reading the paper, she agreed with that decision.
Mira felt someone else enter the kitchen, but she didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to who it was. They shared this house with a lot of people—not to mention all the people who went back and forth to the other two houses. It was getting to be ridiculous. As far as she was concerned, it was one more reason why they needed to go to that mansion Justice mentioned.
When the person, who entered the kitchen, sat across from her, setting down their cup of coffee, Mira looked up—then she jumped out of her chair so fast it went crashing to the floor.
“Amar…!” she stammered.
“Hello, dear,” her grandmother said, smiling.
“So, everyone was right—you’re not dead,” Mira mumbled.
Her grandmother grinned at her. “No, dear. I assure you, I’m very much alive.”
“Cara—I mean—mom—told me as much—but I saw you die…”
Her grandmother laughed upon hearing this. “No, dear. You let your human upbringing convince you I’d died. But you should know that with magick—anything can happen.” She picked up her cup and took a sip of her coffee. Looking at her granddaughter she said, “I simply moved into another dimension.” She shook her head. “You saw us do something similar when we crossed into the Land of the Fae. Did it not occur to you that I might have done something like that?”
Mira nodded. It occurred to her—and her grandmother was right—her human upbringing prevented her from seeing the truth of this. “I guess I was afraid to hope….”
Amar smiled at her. Then shook an old, crooked finger at her. “You told Jes…”
It was Mira’s turn to grin, causing Amar to give her a dark look. “Things have changed Amar—I mean—grandmother” Then her tone turned serious. “I had to take a chance on her. It’s important Jes remember—now—not later. Time has run out.”
“Okay—granddaughter, you have made your point—for now,” Amar said to her. “But when this is over, we will revisit this again.”
Mira grinned at her. “So, is that why you’re here?”
Amar nodded. “Yes.” She took another sip of her coffee, blowing across the surface first. “I’m here to train the three of you.”
“In the way of the wise?” Mira asked, suddenly excited.
Her grandmother nodded again. “And to help Jes to make this transition. There are some things that might provide us with a magickal assist, and might be of some use in helping Jes regain her full memory.”
Mira’s mouth fell open—and she closed it. “And you waited until now?” Then something else occurred to her before Amar could answer. “Wait! You could have helped me to remember too?”
Chapter Four
Jo
Early the next morning found Josephine sitting at the mahogany dressing table, staring at herself in the dark mirror. Scowling at her face, she glanced around the room. All the furniture had a gothic feel. Long, dark curtains covered tall windows. The first thing she’d done was open them, to let in the light. She had a feeling they hadn’t been opened in years.
One thought kept going through her mind—the alliance. She couldn’t help but wonder if any enemy of her cousins—might be her only salvation—her only hope. The problem was, she didn’t have a clue where to find them—nor even an idea where to look.
Yet, something about the way Daniel talked, something in the way he talked about them, made her think they might be close by.
Frustrated, Jo stood and paced the room. Hearing a hesitant knock, she called for the maid to come in.
The young girl opened the door, giving her a timid smile before coming on into the room. “Do you wish your bed made?”
Jo nodded, looking away. She didn’t feel comfortable letting the girl take care of her things.
The dark-haired girl moved quietly around the room, her nimble fingers setting everything right.
“How did you come to live here?” Jo asked her, trying to fill the silence.
The girl shrugged. “He likes getting his hands on our people,” she said. “He brought my mother here, years, ago.
Jo glanced at her sharply. “Our people?”
Flushing the girl turned to look at her, now. “I shouldn’t have said that,” she said under her breath. “My mother always says I talk too much.” She’d begun wringing her hands and Jo stood, crossing the room to stand in front of her. “Please don’t say anything to him,” the girl begged her.
Jo took one of her hands into hers. “I won’t,” she promised. She patted the bed, sitting. “But you must tell me everything.”
The girl shook her head, looking like she would bolt.
Jo clung to her hand. “Please,” she whispered. She waited a long moment. “What’s your name?” she asked her, letting go of her hand.
“Misty,” the young woman said, matching her whisper.
Jo grinned at her. “Come,” she said. “Sit.”
Misty stared at the bed, but she finally sat. “You won’t tell him I said anything?” she said, her grey eyes wide.
Jo smiled. “I promise.” She reached forward, patting her shoulder. “I promise,” she said again.
Misty nodded and seemed to calm some.
Leaning forward, Jo stared into the young woman’s eyes. “Who are your people?”
Her eyes widening, Misty shook her head.
“It’s okay,” Jo said. “I think I know. I’ve been suspecting this for a long time. But I need to hear it.” She ducked her head to get a better angle, since Misty had lowered her gaze to the bed. “I need to know,” she entreated.
Misty nodded. “We are the Jaguar People.”
Jo let out a long breath. “And he keeps you—like—slaves here?”
Misty nodded again. “They have tried to bring him in,” she said. “But he’s smart—and vicious,” she whispered so quietly, Jo almost didn’t catch it.
“Who? This Alliance?”
Misty nodded furiously. “I wish they’d catch him,” she said. “I want to go home.”
Jo looked around. “I don’t understand,” she said. “It’s not like he could keep this place hidden.”
The young woman stared at her. “You don’t know, do you?”
Frowning at Misty, she narrowed her gaze on the girl. “What don’t I know?”
The girl plucked at an imagined wrinkle on the bedspread, with her slender fingers. “We are—glamoured here. Like the Alliance is glamoured.” She shook her head. “We cannot see them. They cannot see us.”
Jo’s shoulders sagged, hearing this. “I’ll never find it,” she said more to herself.
The girl’s large, grey eyes looked at her in surprise. “You wish to find them?”
Nodding, Jo grabbed her hand now. “Do you know how?”
The girl shrugged, shaking her head, then seemed to think about it. “I do know how people who need them get a message to their hotline,” she said. “Would that help?”
Excited now, Jo nodded.
The young woman stood, excited now, too. “You won’t forget us, will you? If you get help, you’ll get them to help us, too?”
Jo nodded.
“Wait here,” Misty said. “I’ll be right back.”
When she’d gone, Jo glanced toward the mirror. Catching her reflection, she couldn’t help but wonder—if the girl knew how to get a message to them—then why hadn’t she sent one herself?
When she’d returned, she brought a paper. Opening it, she laid it across the bed, showing Jo the highlighted ad. When injustice is the way of the day, she read, a little justice could pave the way.
“Did you ever send them a message?” she asked her.
Misty shook her head, looking down.
“Why not?” Jo asked, feeling a little exasperated.
The young woman lifted her gaze, staring at Jo. “I’m never allowed to leave the house.”
Jo stared at her, swallowing. “Why not?” she said. She knew her face showed her sadness, but she couldn’t help it.
The girl shrugged. “I run my mouth too much,” Misty said. “They wouldn’t trust me out of the house.”
Chapter Five
Dracon
Dracon stood in front of his fireplace in one of the larger rooms of the stone mansion of his people. He stood so still, he could have almost been made from stone.
Almost.
Dracon stood there waiting for one of the household to bring him the visitor they’d announced moments before, his thoughts on latest the woman who’d been turned over into his care, from their alliance with the Jaguar People—more specifically, from the hotline Justice set up with Conrad at Second Chances.
Dracon had a feeling his visitor, Lucius, was here for one reason—and that his reason had everything to do with their latest addition to their ancient household.
It wasn’t that she’d been turned, this latest young woman who’d joined their household, which bothered him. That always bothered him. No one should become a vamp in such a way.
It was—most disconcerting to wake and find your life changed.
But it was criminal to find it changed so radically.
Most didn’t know vampires existed, before they found their life, the life they’d known, brutally ripped from them. Then, to wake—hungry. And not a hunger like anything they’d ever known—but a hunger that drove every other thought from their mind—except for the smell of blood. A smell they could smell from some distance.
Especially when they were new born—a fledgling.
But something about this one nagged him. He looked at his new visitor. He had the feeling he’d find out why. And instinct told him he wouldn’t like it.
Lucius inclined his head to the old vamp in a show of respect.
Dracon stood there, still not moving. Finally, he said, “I understand you’re a friend of Justice?”
Lucius grunted. “Yes. But I understand you—are his brother.”
Nothing showed on Dracon’s face. Nothing ever did. He had years to learn to control his emotions. It would seem the Starborne also learned to control his own. Dracon felt surprised by a rare moment of interest.
He held out his hand to indicate a seat. Lucius took the seat and waited as Dracon sat across from him. “Do the Starborne drink?” he asked.
Lucius smiled, then said, “Yes.” But he held up a hand before Dracon could command a servant to bring him one. “But I know the Crow People do not.”
Dracon actually smiled at that. Few knew the history of his people to such an extent. Lucius had a lot of knowledge.
“So, what brings you out here?” Dracon said.
Lucius leaned forward slightly at this. “Well—it would seem you have Mira’s sister.”
Dracon could not have been more surprised. “Mira’s sister?”
Lucius nodded.
“But that would mean….”
“She is also—Jes’s sister,” Lucius supplied.
Interesting. Dracon pondered this. Interesting indeed.
“Where is she now?” Lucius asked, glancing around at the marble floors and columns.
“We have been helping her—teaching her how to deal with her hunger,” Dracon answered. “Teaching her the way of her new world—one she must live in now.”
“She can never come home?” Lucius asked.
Dracon nod
ded. “She can do so for periods of time—when she is ready. She can be with her sisters whenever she wants, but she cannot stay for long. Her world is too different. It would be too difficult for her. At least, right now.”
Lucius grunted. “She will need to be readied—as soon as possible,” he said.
Dracon’s amber gaze narrowed on him. “Did you not hear what I told you?”
Lucius nodded. “Forgive me, but she must get ready as quickly as possible. She must train with her sisters—the Sisters of Three,” he said.
Dracon took that in. He realized she’d need her sisters at some point. He needed to think on this. Finding out about the Sisters of Three changed things. He’d heard of legends of such sisters. He hadn’t realized these sisters held a place of such value in the prophecy. But it fit.
“Okay,” he finally said, “but I’ve no idea how she can handle such hunger and train with them so early in her change.”
“I have an idea,” Lucius supplied. “It’s something I know of with the Starborne. May I send Amar to her?”
Dracon grunted. Amar too.
Finally, he nodded his assent. And Lucius took his leave.
For a long time, after Lucius had left, Dracon stood at the window looking out at the darkening sky. He loved the night. But there was no surprise in that.
He wondered if Justice had known the sisters carried such a place in his prophecy. He wondered if the sisters had even known they carried such a place. This changed everything.
He felt something for Dara he hadn’t felt in over a hundred years, for any woman. Would Justice let him keep her here, now?
He didn’t have much of a choice.
She’d been turned. And she’d be more comfortable with others who dealt with the same things she now found herself dealing with—to deal with the hunger—to be able to feed. And, most of all, to learn how to survive in their world. After all, it was far different than the one she’d come from.
There were different rules—different laws. And some of these didn’t allow for Dara to go off and do her own thing. The Elders kept track of their own. They would want an accounting. The only one who didn’t follow these rules was too old, and battle wise, to control. He made his own rules. He followed his own laws.
That made him dangerous—and not only to their people. He was considered dangerous to the humans. He couldn’t be controlled, and therefore, he’d become a threat to the Alliance.