Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

  She was half expecting someone to demand that she give up her status as pack leader, but no one said anything. The silence that filled the room was deafening. Adam gave her shoulder a slight squeeze.

  She let out a breath.

  “That isn't to say that I don't want some things changed. I'm sure what I hated about werewolf politics made everyone else's lives hell too. All of those political issues leave us vulnerable to attack and civil war. Vincent's actions today show how much this needs to change. We need to treat everyone equally. Sure, our bodies acknowledge what rank we are, but we need to recognize that everyone here is an essential part of our pack. And we should respect that.” She licked her lips and bowed her head forward in a gesture of supplication. “So I beg you, let me help you make this wonderful pack what it should be.”

  Across the room, Carmichael gave an approving nod.

  “If that's not all right with you,” she continued, her voice gaining more strength, “then you are free to leave the pack, no questions asked. I promise you, there won't be any consequences for anyone's actions here today. And if this new way of life doesn't work, then myself and my brother will step down as pack leaders and we'll find someone to lead, based upon the merit of their character, not their rank.” She squeezed Adam's hand. “I chose an Omega for a mate, and he's twice the wolf that Vincent ever was, even though he was the lowest of his pack. He’s a good man and an even better werewolf. That should be all that matters here. So, do you agree with me?”

  There was a long silence. Her heart beat loudly in her ears as she waited for their answer. And then...

  Wolves from both packs howled their assent.

  CHAPTER 9

  Gemma woke up later in the hospital, wincing. She had fallen asleep in a chair next to Adam's bed, putting her in an uncomfortable position.

  Her injuries weren't too bad and she healed within hours of the fight. Adam, however, had to be placed under surveillance and bandaged up. He would be in pain for a long while as his Alpha healing abilities were still developing.

  But right now, he was sleeping soundly. She smiled.

  My mate, she proudly thought.

  Not wanting to disturb him, she slowly got up and walked to Bernice's room, where she was resting after giving birth. The stress from Mark getting hurt had thrown Bernice into early labor. Their child, a healthy baby girl, had been born a few hours earlier.

  She opened the door to Bernice's room where Mark was keeping his constant vigil. He was mostly healed himself except for a few wounds that were covered in bandages.

  He motioned for her to be quiet and step out of the room. He followed her outside.

  “How is she?” Gemma asked.

  “I think the labor was a bit rougher than Bernice was expecting,” he admitted. The door clicked shut behind him. “Come on, I'll show you the baby.”

  They walked quietly through the halls of the maternity ward, ending up at the window of the nursery where the newborns slept. Tonight though, Bernice and Mark's baby was the only infant in the room, bundled up and sleeping soundly.

  “She's beautiful,” Gemma breathed.

  Mark beamed proudly. “We're naming her Alba,” he said. “Alba Christine Branford.” He allowed a smile. “After her aunt.”

  Gemma's smile faltered. “Huh?”

  “Alba,” he explained, his grin growing wider. “It means ‘white’ in Latin.”

  Gemma felt tears in her eyes as she nodded. “Sorry I wasn't there, Mark,” she said, overwhelmed by remorse. “Sorry I wasn't there to help you with Vincent. Sorry I wasn't there for you to stop you from getting hurt. Sorry I wasn't there for the birth of your daughter. I'm sorry that I wasn't there when you needed me.”

  Mark looked at her, his eyes sparkling. “You had to take care of some things,” he whispered to her. He put his arms around her in a brotherly hug. “I spoke with Carmichael and he told me all about what you did. You took your place and defended the pack. For that, we owe you our lives and our pack's survival.”

  “Do you think the pack will truly forgive me?” she asked.

  “It might take them a while to trust you,” Mark admitted with a wry smile. “But you can win them over with your great personality.”

  “I can tell you were being sarcastic with that last part.”

  He hugged her. “It'll all work out fine, Gemma. I promise you.”

  She nodded.

  “This wolf you took as your mate,” Mark asked, “he's a good guy, right?”

  She let out a laugh. “Yes. Only the best.”

  “Did you take a mate because of pressure from me?” he asked.

  Gemma paused, debating how to proceed. “At first, maybe,” she said slowly. Mark's expression fell. She offered him a smile. “But I do love him. And I think he loves me back.”

  Mark watched his sister quietly. “I'm sorry, too,” he whispered.

  She chuckled. “Why?”

  “Because I feel like I forced you into it.”

  “It was my own choice.” She gave him a pat on the shoulder. “It would have happened with Adam eventually, I think.”

  Mark blinked in surprise. “He'd better treat you right.”

  Gemma could only laugh.

  ***

  Adam was awake when she came back to his room. She gave an apologetic grin and closed the door behind her. “Sorry,” she told him, “I was having a chat with my brother. How do you feel?”

  He smiled up at her, despite the gauze on his face. “Much better,” he laughed. “But still a little sore. How's the baby?”

  “Beautiful and doing well. They're naming her Alba. After her aunt, apparently. Well,” she amended, “kind of named after her aunt.”

  He let out a laugh and pulled back the sheets. “Do you want to join me here?”

  She crawled in under the covers and he gently spooned her. The sensation of his body against her made her heart beat faster.

  “Let me make love to you,” he whispered in her ear.

  She laughed softly and gave him a lazy glance. “Here? In the hospital? What about your injuries?”

  “We're in our own room.” He looked around. “Blinds are closed. I doubt the nurses would begrudge two people loving each other. Besides,” he said, his voice dropping, “I got the girl. It'd be bad luck not to act upon it.”

  He kissed her, long and hard as he reached around and caressed her breasts. Her shirt offered no resistance to his steady hands, and her bra came off easily enough. He undid the top of his hospital pants and entered her from behind. He turned her head and kissed her again as his hips starting moving against hers.

  It was a slow, sure rhythm their bodies took, their breathing heavy in the quiet space.

  She found herself gasping at the motion. He brought them to a quicker, faster pace. She cried out his name, and found that she couldn't control the level of her voice. He moaned and kept pumping his hips into her. She turned her head and kissed him passionately.

  She came, crying into his mouth. He orgasmed at the same time, breaking contact with their lips before she forced his head down again, and kissed him.

  “I love you,” she whispered breathlessly.

  “Love you, too.” He kissed her again. They laid on the bed, panting in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

  “I could get used to that,” she said with a laugh. She combed her fingers through her hair.

  His harsh breathing stilled. “Do you want to?” he asked. She turned around in his arms. “Beyond all of this mating and werewolf stuff, do you want to do it officially? The human way?” he asked her, kissing her lips.

  She looked at him, unsure of what he meant. From out of nowhere, he pulled out a velvet ring box and opened it for her. A glittering solitaire diamond ring greeted her. She looked at it, speechless.

  “Carmichael stopped by while you were out and gave me this, saying that he didn't want to wait for me to make the move. That this was an early wedding present. So,” he said with a laugh, “Gemma Branford,
will you marry me?”

  She put a hand to his face. “Of course,” she whispered. She kissed two fingertips and pressed them to his lips, like she had done the night they first met. This time, however, she did it lovingly. “I will marry you, my mate for life.”

  ROCKIN’ HER WOLF

  CHAPTER 1

  It was four in the morning when the phone rang.

  Hung over and barely awake, Huck maneuvered his hand to his cell phone, pressed the answer button and brought the phone to his ear.

  “Hello?” he asked. Inwardly, he was awake enough to grimace at the sound of his own voice. Need to lay off the booze after a gig, he thought. I’m going to ruin my voice before we’re even signed. His guitarist Mark had warned him not to hit the bottle too hard. He used to think it was just because Mark was saddled up with a wife and kids, but now he wasn’t so sure.

  He held his breath and waited, expecting it to be his manager. Could really do without his bullshit right now, Huck mused. Granted, after the way they played for that talent scout last night maybe he should have cared. If their performance had been good enough, they could be signed to a major record label, the kind that got their albums in mainstream stores. Then they could hit the big time.

  The voice on the other end wasn’t his manager. It was someone else entirely. There was a pause, a pregnant silence that seemed to hurt his head before there was a timid, hopeful, “H-hello?”

  The voice was nice enough, the pleasant alto of a young woman, probably pretty hot based on her voice. If he had been more awake and less hungover, he would have tried to imagine what she looked like, about 5’10”, most of that legs, with blonde hair that went all the way down her back and tits the size of melons.

  As it was, he didn’t care what she might look like and sleep was calling him back to bed.

  “Yes?” he asked impatiently.

  “Is this Huck?”

  He groaned and rolled on his back. He rubbed the area between his eyebrows, trying to wipe away his confusion. He let go of the muscles holding up his head and he bumped the headboard with an audible thwack. He groaned as he glanced at the cell phone—he didn’t recognize the number and mentally cursed. If he had been more awake, he wouldn’t have picked up the unknown number. This mystery female on the other end was lucky.

  He should have hung up then. Instead he stayed on.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  There was another pause. Then, softly, “Royce Tucker?”

  That caught his attention. He sat upright in bed. No one had called him that since he was a kid. In fact, he had legally changed his name as soon as he had graduated high school. Who the hell was this girl on the phone?

  “Who is this?” he demanded, his heart beating in his chest.

  There was a slight, shy giggle on the other end. “Annie,” she said. “Annie Knowles.”

  His beating heart then leapt into his throat, making it hard to breathe. The hangover and his tiredness fell away like a curtain. “Holy shit,” he whispered in disbelief. “Annie?”

  Saying her name seemed to open up a floodgate of emotions on the other end of the line. She started speaking, fast and mixed up. “I’m so sorry to call at this hour and, well, sorry that I hadn’t called before now. I mean it’s been...”

  “Twelve years,” he finished for her. His heart was pounding so quickly, it was deafening in his ears. “How—how did you find me?”

  That was the stupidest thing to ask. After all of these years, that’s the first thing he said to her? He wanted to leap through the phone then and tell her all of the things that he had been bottling up for those twelve years. He needed to tell her so much, and over the phone wasn’t appropriate.

  “I had to search online for a long time,” she said with a laugh. “There aren’t too many ‘Royce Tuckers’ in the world. I ended up calling your mom and she gave me your cell phone number. I’ve been sitting here for about three hours now, trying to work up the courage to call you.”

  He was breathing heavily, breaking into a cold sweat. “Oh my God, Annie,” he repeated, half in disbelief, half cursing himself that he couldn’t think of anything better to say to her. She deserved so much more. He sat up and fumbled for a note pad and a pen. “Where are you?” he demanded. “Wherever it is, I’ll meet you there. Shit, do you know how many things I want to...” he swallowed, correcting himself, “need to tell you?”

  “I’m in town,” she said, sounding a bit hesitant. “I’m in Austin.”

  Once again, his heart leapt into his throat. “Austin?” he asked, again in disbelief. “Where? I’m on my way right now.”

  There was white noise over the cell phone. He realized that it was her sighing. Was it in relief? Happiness? Fear? He didn’t care. However she felt, everything was going to be all right. Somehow, miraculously, Annie Knowles had landed back in his life. He ran through all of the things he wanted to say to her and he was sure he was forgetting most of it.

  “I’m at the D-Lux Motel,” she said. “You know, off of I-35, a bit north?”

  “Yeah, I know the place,” he said excitedly. It was twenty minutes away, not too far.

  “Room 22B.”

  “Hold on, I’ll be right there.”

  She paused. “Thank you, Huck,” she whispered. The line went dead.

  He looked at the phone and wondered if it was a dream. He pulled on his pants, grabbed a shirt, buttoned it up, and slipped his sneakers on. Before he left, he checked the mirror in the bathroom to see how he looked—a bleary-eyed, clearly hungover young man of twenty-four blinked back at him in the fluorescent light. Not the best way to see her after all of these years. Urgency beat out vanity and he decided he didn’t care.

  So much he wanted to say to her.

  “Annie Knowles,” he whispered. “Fuck me.”

  ***

  Annie Knowles tried to replace the phone in its cradle. Her hands were shaking and she teetered on the verge of tears. The phone clattered to the floor, but she didn’t bother picking it up. She hugged her arms to herself and shivered even though it wasn’t that cold in Austin this October. She shivered because she was remembering what Huck looked like when he was younger.

  I wonder if he’s taller than me now, she thought and then chided herself that there were so many other things she should have been worrying about right then instead of musing on whether or not he was still shorter than her. She let out a shaky breath.

  The door to the bathroom opened up with a creak so loud it made her jump. A boy, about ten years old, tall and awkward with a shock of hair so blond it appeared white, walked in. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days because he hadn’t. His baby blue eyes were huge and glassy with strikes of red through them.

  Poor kid, she thought as she held her hand out to him.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.

  The boy shook his head. He asked, his voice tired, scared, and timid, “Did you call your friend?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Huck’s on his way over here. He knows someone who can help us.”

  Annie patted the bed next to her. He sat down and put his head on her shoulder. She had told the hotel manager that he was her son even though she had no relation to him and she would have been fourteen when she had him.

  But that didn’t change the fact that she was all that he had left in the world.

  “It’ll get easier,” she said, knowing that she couldn’t fully relate to what he was going through. Her fingers combed his hair in a desperate attempt to soothe him. “I’m so sorry, Bradley.”

  The boy turned his head into her shoulder and cried.

  CHAPTER 2

  Twelve years ago.

  For as long as twelve-year-old Annie Knowles could remember, Royce Tucker—forever Huck to everyone in their circle of friends—had lived next to her in the small town of Warren, Florida. Maybe it was their proximity of growing up together or maybe it was because they were meant to be, but they did everything together.

  Huck, it seemed, was
the most permanent fixture in her life. Even when her parents got divorced (it happened when Annie was five years old and she couldn’t figure out what game her dad had cheated on her mom in) and her father moved to New Orleans with his new girlfriend, Huck stayed in Annie’s life.

  Whether it was a result of her father’s infidelity or other reasons, Annie’s mother remained single. And as a result, Annie remained an only child.

  Growing up with a boy as her best friend, Annie was a tomboy. She had kept her curly red hair in a bob close to her chin and her green eyes always had that bit of mischief in them. Her mother termed it “that devilish gleam in her eyes”. Despite being fine-boned and pale, she was as athletic and strong as any of the boys in their sixth grade class. And she made sure that they knew she could keep up with them. She spent her time outdoors in the orchard behind their row of houses, creating a sort of Lord of the Flies-esque society between her and her friends.

  Huck was two months younger than her and a few inches shorter too, as she had already hit her growth spurt. As a twelve-year-old boy, Huck had a head of unruly dark brown hair with matching brown eyes. He had a brother named Jim who was eighteen months older. Unfortunately, Jim was a dick who was a full foot taller than them and constantly beat Huck into submission. So Huck always stuck with Annie to avoid his brother.

  Everyday, Annie would walk to school with Huck, Jim would threaten Huck, Annie would stick up for him, and Huck would go to school with a black eye or a scraped knee. Jim never hit Annie, and she could never figure out whether it was him promising to never hit a girl or the fear of her hitting him back. After school, they’d head home and hang out in their fort in the tree farm with whatever assortment of their friends that could join them that night. They would have dinner at one of their houses and go to bed.