by Claire Marta
Casey was with child.
She thought that it was the Russian’s.
Iosefa looked at his partner. They knew better. Casey’s transformation had made it possible to conceive with them but she couldn’t get pregnant by Ivan or any other male unless he possessed four-strand DNA, and Ivan most assuredly did not.
“It’s ours,” Malik told her flatly. “She’s ours, and we want to do right by her and marry her—or one of us, anyway. We would have discussed it before now except she’s determined to keep us away. She thinks she is protecting us when we’re the ones who need to be protecting her. If she thinks we can’t, she’s got another thing coming. How soon can we see her?”
“How soon can you be here?”
Malik arched a questioning brow. Tobias shook his head and turned his fists, arcing them like he was steering a car.
Malik sighed softly, accepting that they were grounded, forced to take conventional modes of transportation instead of taking to the sky. The Green Team hired to protect them wouldn’t bat a lash but the federal agents might have heart attacks.
“Two… two and a half hours,” he guessed, “depending on traffic. We’ll be out of here as soon as I’m off the phone.”
“I’ll be expecting you both but Casey won’t,” Precious warned. “She won’t be happy about this, but it’s time she realized what’s right in front of her. I want the best for my goddaughter. I’m not taking sides. This is her choice. Her life. Whatever she decides, I will stand with her.”
Malik ended the call with a mixture of relief and nervousness. They were going to see their Casey. He prayed it would go well.
Tobias rose from his seat and plucked the set of keys to the SUV off the wall. Tossing it to Malik, he eyed them both sternly. “Well? Get moving!”
Hurrying from his office, they raced upstairs, grabbed their jackets, and put them on as they headed out the door, jogging from the main building to the garage out back. Rain was falling in a light drizzle, the day cold, gray and overcast. Bundling into the blacked-out vehicle they used for surveillance, they left the Citadel and drove north in silence, both lost in thought. Eventually, Iosefa switched on the radio, filling the vehicle with cheerful Christmas tunes.
“What if Casey refuses to see us?” Malik asked suddenly.
Iosefa pursed his lips, keeping his gaze on the road and watching traffic. “The Russian has touched her with the darkness in his soul. Ying and yang soul mates. Karma brought them together, but he was never meant to stay with her. He is here to teach her a lesson that she needs to master. Whatever it is, she seems to be learning it the hard way. If it is truly written in the heavens that we are meant to be together as fated mates, things will fall into place. We will have broken the cycle and freed her.”
Malik felt sick, thinking of what she had suffered at Ivan’s hands. Violence, pain, forced submission. What could their mate learn from such things? Ivan had led her on like a false prophet. They still didn’t understand what had driven Casey to work with him despite the danger. Perhaps if they were lucky, she would reveal all.
Men in a pair of parked vehicles—one government, one private—stopped them when they pulled up to the gates of the estate. Two of the sentries who checked their identification had familiar energy. Looking closer, they identified them as brothers who had shared Thanksgiving with them and helped the cadre rescue Morgan.
Both Green Team members wore patches on the sleeves of their jackets, a shield edged in black with the image of a rampant gryphon in the center, identifying their order. They dutifully checked their identification after the federal officers were done with them and waved them on through.
The long drive ended at an impressive house; a grand old estate that had been lovingly maintained. Parking beyond the front door, they exited the SUV and strode up the walk to the entrance, rang the bell, and waited for someone to answer it.
Another Gryphon let them in. They surrendered their jackets to a uniformed housekeeper and followed the guard down the hall into the library.
Malik scanned the floor-to-ceiling shelves and whistled softly. “Emmett would love this,” he hummed.
Iosefa had to agree.
Too nervous to sit, he paced the handwoven Persian rug that covered the polished wood floor.
Carpet-muted footsteps sounded in the hall. The door opened. Wearing a cast and sling on one arm, Helena dragged Casey in by her good hand like a recalcitrant child. In a foul mood, their mate cooperated, probably because fighting it might cause Helena actual harm.
“You have guests,” Helena pointed out. “They’ve driven a long way in bad weather to see you.”
Casey scowled. “What the hell are you two doing here? Don’t tell me Morgan sent you to check up on me.”
“Talk to them,” her godmother advised sternly, letting her go and stepping back, turning to leave and give them some privacy. “When you're done, I’ll have a pot of tea and sandwiches waiting in the solarium.”
The door clicked closed. Casey stood in a defensive posture, arms crossed over her chest, red hair scraped back in a ponytail, eyeing them unhappily. The puffiness where she’d been crying was hard to miss.
“What happened?” Iosefa asked, careful to not let her know more than she should. “You were being treated at the hospital and then disappeared.”
Casey hugged herself, rubbing her biceps as if to ward off a sudden chill. “The man that you saw me with at the fight in November was Ivan Michalov, an officer of Alexei Popov, the local Russian Bratva boss. Ivan took me to his boss’s house for a birthday party that never happened. I was drugged. Ivan disappeared, and I woke up in bed with Popov’s body. I was treated at the hospital for my, um, injuries but some of Ivan’s cronies posed as cops and kidnapped me. They stuffed me in the trunk of their car and took me to where he was. Fortunately, the ATF knew the location because of the tracker in one of my heels. Ivan wanted... he wanted to teach me a lesson,” she said slowly. “He’d just gotten started when they stormed the house. Once the threat was neutralized, the ATF ordered an ambulance that hauled me out of there. By the time the hospital released me, enough evidence had come in to clear me as a suspect in Popov’s murder.”
Iosefa was feeling very uneasy about what she’d told them. She was pregnant. What effect would the drugs have on their child?
Casey was hurt and ashamed, unable to meet their eyes. “Popov was a photographer,” she told them. “They found his private collection at Ivan’s. Some of them…” Shaking like a leaf, she closed her eyes as if to block out the memories. “Some of them were of me,” she croaked. “Ivan stuck to his story, trying to make himself out as the innocent one in all this. The son of a bitch had recorded our conversations and edited them, rearranging words to make it sound like I wanted to kill his boss.”
She thrust a hand into her hair and sighed. “One clip had Ivan saying that two years was a long time to wait for vengeance. He’d edited my part to say, I would love to see Popov dead. I’d rather that than watch him sit and rot in prison, be someone’s fucktoy for the rest of his damn days. What I remember saying was that I’d love to see Popov dead, but it wouldn’t bring back my brother. I’d rather arrest him and bring him to justice than end things too soon. I’d hoped that he would rot in prison and be someone’s fucktoy for the rest of his damn days. The other clip—”
She blew out harshly and pressed a hand to her heart. “The other clip was one that he’d altered of Popov, making it sound like he threatened to kill me. Which he did, but I think he planned to keep me for a while. The way Ivan edited it, Popov sounded like he intended to get rid of me that night.”
There was something that she wasn’t telling them. Secrets. Fears. Later. Hopefully, soon she would. Whatever it was would fester if she held it in and didn’t let it go.
“Between the timeline provided by the tracker, eyewitnesses, and the evidence left on the murder weapon, they knew Ivan was lying. He said that he left an hour earlier than he did. He found someone willing to
lie for him and back his story, but the tracker in my heel and anonymous witnesses showed Ivan leaving Popov’s around the time of death, not an hour earlier like he claimed. Plus, the prints on the gun that had killed Popov were from my right hand, and I’m a lefty when I shoot. We figured that he’d killed his boss, wiped the gun, and put it in the hand that he’d seen me eat and write with.”
When Casey held out her fingers, they saw how badly they were shaking. “So much for my aim,” she joked. “I’ll be lucky to hit the side of a barn.”
Her forced laugh faded as quickly as it came.
Iosefa longed to hold her, to gather her in his arms and protect her from the world. When he took a half step toward her, she jumped back, unwilling or unable to let them touch her. Ivan had done this. She had never shied from their touch in fear before now. It was like the fire inside her had died, killed by her soul mate’s actions. He deserved to burn in hell for his sins against her.
“Sorry,” she muttered, realizing what she’d done. “Excuse me if I’m a bit jumpy. Ivan is under arrest but the Bratva’s still out there. Mendez told me that the bullets pulled from Popov match those that killed my brother. Ballistics testing proved that they came from the same gun. It sickens me to think that Ivan put Ben’s death weapon in my hand. I can’t stop thinking about his motives, if this was something he’d planned and for how long or if he saw an opportunity and seized it. Like… when and how did he get hold of Popov’s gun? Was it even Popov’s to begin with? What if it belonged to Ivan? Ivan claims that Popov used his wife, that her child was his, not Ivan’s. They’re all dead now. Ben. Elena. Alexa. Popov. Jesus. Ivan’s the only one left who knows the truth and I can’t stop thinking about the possibilities.”
Iosefa could see that she was torturing herself over so many unknowns. He wasn’t sure if she would ever have her questions answered.
“I was pretty out of it when they found me at Ivan’s,” she continued, crossing to a window and staring at the winter garden that lay beyond. “Hallucinating. I thought you were there with me at Ivan’s. God, how crazy does that sound? What would people say?”
Malik blew out softly. “I say, stop listening to your head and start listening to your heart. The truth beats within it to a song that only your fated mates can hear.”
“Fated mates,” she repeated. Eyes widening, she turned to look at Iosefa. “You were there,” she said, her words laced with disbelief because she hadn’t fully accepted the truth. “You said something about fated mates….”
Iosefa nodded. “I told Malik that we should kill Ivan for what he did to you.”
Hand creeping up, Casey pressed it to her throat with a look of shock. “How… how could you have been there? I saw things...”
Malik moved towards her slowly, hands out in a gesture of calm. “We’ll explain everything. I promise. Right now, all you need to know is that we will not leave you to deal with what you are going through alone. We love you, Casey Andersson. We love you and we want to share our lives with you.”
“No.” Her head shook back and forth and she burst into desolate tears. “He put out a hit on the two of you. He told me you were dead.”
“He tried,” Malik admitted. Opening his shirt, he pulled it wide enough for her to see his unmarred chest, thanks to their accelerated ability to heal. “Look. No wounds. No scars. I survived. We both did.”
“It’s all right,” Iosefa crooned, closing the distance between them further. “Ivan cannot and will never be able to hurt us. You will not lose us.”
Casey sobbed, looking as if the bottom of her world had just fallen out. “You don’t understand… we can’t… it doesn’t matter… I'm pregnant with his baby.”
“Our baby,” Malik insisted. “The child growing in your womb belongs to us. You belong to us. Our fated mate, if you would but see it.”
“Look, guys. I know you’re trying to do the right thing, but being with me will only put you in harm’s way when Ivan finds out, and I know that he will. He was having me watched. He knows you spent the night. But I can’t ask you to raise another man’s child.”
Iosefa shook his head. “Wildcat,” he sighed. “Have you not been listening? Your child belongs to us.”
“You wore condoms,” she reminded them tightly.
“Once,” he agreed, “but the other two times…”
He added the last in his true voice, the one that she’d always responded to, the one that could put her to sleep or make her melt with arousal. “Yes,” he told her, “we are Moses and Aaron. Your Dominants. Your fated mates, your lovers, and the fathers of your children.”
“Child,” she whispered, finally accepting the proof before her eyes.
Iosefa stroked his beard and winked. “And how do you know there are not two…?”
Rather than feel blessed, Casey was pissed. “You Samoan son of a bitch!” she grated, embers sparking to life in her eyes. “You tricked me! You followed me to the club and managed to get on staff and you… you… you fucking used me.”
Malik shook his head. “Actually, you used us,” he reminded her. “You were upset with Master S but you were still aroused and you asked us to satisfy your needs. We wanted to use condoms but you insisted that you were protected. You said you took a shot.”
Casey angrily dashed the tears from her eyes. “I do, but it must have failed. It still doesn’t mean the baby is yours. Ivan didn’t use a condom, either.”
Iosefa growled, hating the fact she’d had sex with the Russian but knowing she was free to be with whomever she chose at that time. She’d gone willingly with him to his private room in the club. She had done a scene with him. Aroused and tempted, he couldn’t blame her for slaking her needs.
“It is still not possible,” he argued.
Casey remained unconvinced.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“He raped me.”
Casey spat the words, laden with loathing and hatred for her attacker. “Multiple times at his boss’s house. They both abused me. Popov fisted my ass but Ivan shot him before he could fuck me. A small mercy. I want to believe it’s yours but the way karma has screwed me over in life, I’m betting it’s his.” Her voice broke on the last word. “Even knowing it was conceived through violence, I can’t get rid of it. It’s mine, too.”
She had no family. Not like Morgan. Soon Helena would leave her. The new life growing inside her seemed like a twisted gift from the Universe, a consolation prize for her suffering and loss.
The shock of discovery had brought tears and panic. She’d wanted to deny the truth. Helena had found her sobbing and shaking on the bathroom floor, the pregnancy test clutched in her hand.
A look of devastation swept over Malik’s handsome face. “He raped you?”
Casey dropped her gaze, feeling his stare but unable to bear the pity she knew she’d see there. She didn’t want it. Now that they knew, they’d walk away. All this talk of fated mates and being theirs would lead to nothing.
“It can’t be his,” Iosefa insisted gently. “The first time that we were together, something… magical... happened. Something miraculous. Your body was transformed. Changed for us. Changed because of us.”
His words dragged her kicking and screaming from the misery she was mired in. “What the hell are you talking about?” she snapped.
“How do we explain this?” Malik muttered. “Joining with us initiated a change in your DNA, activating it, transforming it into four strands like ours. Our first time together triggered the start. You were nearly through the flux—the seven-day process of changing—when you conceived. By Day Two, his DNA was no longer compatible. Only ours—or others like us.”
Casey snorted. “Do you know how crazy that sounds? If this is a joke, it isn’t funny.”
“Morgan knows,” Iosefa told her. “She has transformed for her mates, too, although they have not yet procreated.”
She stared at him. “You’re telling me that Zac and Aiden are some… supermen like you? Next thing I kn
ow, you’ll be telling me you’re from the planet Krypton.”
“We are not from there. Although with enough warning, we can stop bullets.”
“And we can fly,” Malik added, “when our wings are out.”
Casey stared at him, wondering which one of them was crazier.
She decided it was him when he started stripping to the waist…
Until his wings came out.
Holy fuck.
Malik flexed his shoulders and spread his wings. Large and leathery, they were wide enough, he had to angle himself so he didn’t knock things off the shelves.
Iosefa caught her when she started to crumple to the floor.
“Christ on a cracker,” Casey croaked in shock. “Holy shit.”
She looked up at him, remembering when they’d saved her from Ivan’s cruelty. “I thought I imagined it. The drugs…”
Iosefa cupped her face and brushed her lips with his. “No, wildcat. Believe what you see. What you hear.” His voice shifted as surely as a late-night radio DJ. “We love you. We have for weeks. But we never found a way to tell you how we feel. We needed you to trust us enough, so when we showed you our true forms, you would not be afraid. Malik?”
His partner finished his transformation, shifting into his gargoyle form with gray mottled skin and long pointed ears. His features were beastly, a mixture of creatures melded together. Two black spiked horns protruded from his head.
“Do you know what we are?” Iosefa asked her, holding her tightly, supporting her with his far-greater strength.
She looked at them both, comparing them. “It’s not possible,” she said, still struggling to break free of her programming. Helena had once told her that society, religion, parents with insufficient knowledge, teachers—they all served to shut down someone’s inner vision and keep them from seeing the extraordinary and magical things that surrounded them if they only had eyes to see.