Her Alpha Mates_A Shifter Menage Romance

by Maggie Ryan

  Silently, Artem balled up another packed sphere of snow. Faster this time he sent the ball flying, right at her face. Holding back my instinct to protect her from the flying object, I stood planted firm, observing.

  The purple light widened like a halo around Cassandra. Again, her hand shot up from her side, this time stopping the ball only inches from her face. The snowball hovered in the air, then dropped to the ground. Her face determined, she said, “Again.”

  Over and over, she had us throw the missiles from every angle and speed possible. Each time, with only a gesture of her hand, she was able to pause the white orb, then have it drop to the ground. Her aura darkened around her, remaining for longer and longer stretches of time as she practiced.

  After a half an hour of the practice, Cassandra looked to me, a hard determination in her eyes. “Now, with the daggers.”

  Artem held his hands up in the air. “Cassandra, a snowball is one thing. A knife, another. I do not think it would be wise to practice this newly found ability with metal. We don’t yet know the ins and outs of your powers. We’ve only found out a half an hour ago that you have any.”

  Her eyes not leaving mine, she whispered, “I have felt it. Since we returned from the honeymoon. Something—brewing almost—within me. Like when I throw the knives. It’s like my mind is discovering its powers.”

  Dolly placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “She has a gift, Artem. We’d be foolish not to develop it.” Artem’s features were concerned, but his eyes softened.

  I gave Dolly a nod. “I’ll get the knives.”

  Turning, I went to retrieve the daggers I knew Artem would have packed for the journey. As I walked toward the trailer, Artem reached out a hand, placing it firmly on the center of my chest to stop my advance.

  “Draco, this is not a wise idea. What if she cannot hold a heavier object? We should keep the knife play to Cassandra throwing at trees, for now.”

  I could feel that my mate had somehow unlocked powers and she was prepared to use them fully. But Artem’s worried gaze stopped me from carrying out my plan. “Would you feel more comfortable if we tested out these new talents with some other objects first?”

  A relieved look washed over his face. “Yes, please.”

  “Then we shall.” Leaving him where he stood, I went into the trailer to find what would be acceptable for practice.

  After an energy bar, a coffee mug, a soda can, and the hardest, heaviest item of all, a wrapped fruitcake—how long ago Margaret had procured it I could only guess—all hit the snow at Cassandra’s feet, I looked to Artem.

  Satisfied, he gave me an approving nod. It was time to retrieve the daggers.

  Cassandra shed her coat, hat, scarf, gloves. She stood, stoic, her feet shoulder width apart, dressed in all black. Her long hair hung over her shoulder, tied with her signature strip of red leather. Her high cheekbones were flushed with excitement, her green eyes shone with determination. Gazing upon her beauty, the snowy forest backdrop behind her, I thanked the Gods she was my mate.

  “Ready?” Artem asked. He had insisted he be the one to throw the dagger. He was sure Deo would spare his life, not mine, should something go wrong. I moved from where I stood to within a yard of the princess. I would catch that blade should her magic fail her.

  Giving a nod of her head, the tip of Cassandra’s tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth, as it tended to do when she was focused. Before the dagger even left Artem’s hand, the purple aura began to emit from her body—from her mental focus alone. Giving me a sidelong glance, Artem released the blade.

  I held my breath as it sailed through the air. I hoped my instincts were correct, that she was ready. Without the slightest hesitation, or even a blink of her eyes, Cassandra stoically held her hand before her. The dagger came to a stop, as had the snowball and other household items.

  It hung, suspended. Cassandra furrowed her brow, narrowing her eyes. Crack! Flying in front of Cassandra, I shielded the princess with my body, my back to the blade. As I did so, the dagger didn’t just drop to the ground, it burst into a thousand pieces, shattering in a glittery cloud.

  Peeking over my shoulder, Cassandra murmured, “Cool.”

  Laughing, relieved she was unharmed, I said, “Cool? Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Not releasing her, my arms remained wrapped around her tightly, as I looked over my shoulder. The ground was covered with thousands of shards of metal and iridescent sparkles. They were slowly disappearing into the snow.

  Looking back at Cassandra, I enjoyed the triumphant smile that she wore. Giving me a wink, she wriggled from my grasp, calling over my shoulder, “Again, Artem.”

  I released her, standing a little closer by her side for the next throw.

  Artem’s eyes locked onto mine. His smile did not reach his eyes. His message to me was clear—powers in a woman as undisciplined as Cassandra might do more harm than good. We would have to train her. But would she heed our commands?

  I held my hand out to Artem, signaling him to wait. “Hold.”

  Turning to Cassandra, I gave a worried sigh. “Princess, these powers are new and without the proper training—”

  “Draco, I finally have magic—just like you and Deo! I have been watching you all, envying you of your powers for months now. And though stopping objects and making them explode isn’t as cool as shifting, I’ll take it. And you are not going to ruin this for me with your overprotecting dragon crap.” Her hands were on her hips in seconds, her look challenging.

  Stepping forward, I hovered over her, any pleasure I’d found in her discovery of this new ability fading at her snarkiness. When I arched my brow, I watched her eyes widen.

  “Let us not forget who is in charge here, Cassie. Should you need a reminder, I am happy to provide one.” My gaze rested on hers as I reached around to pat her ass. “Both outside”—pausing, I ran my fingertip along the crease of her buttocks—“as well as inside.” With a blush, the challenge left her eyes and her gaze lowered.

  “Yes, sir,” she whispered.

  Tilting her chin up with my fingers, I made her gaze meet mine. “Would you like Artem to throw the dagger again, princess?”

  She nodded.

  “No tricks, no explosions, just a clean defense. You stop the dagger, then allow it to drop. That is all. Or we go back to snowballs. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” she muttered, pushing a stray strand of hair from her eyes.

  Satisfied with her response, I stepped back to her side. Looking to Artem, I gave him the nod. “Again, Artem.”

  He gave me a worried look, then took a deep breath and threw the dagger.

  Cassandra focused her gaze upon it, lifted her hand and stopped it, this time, meters from where she stood. Holding her arm out straight, palm flat, she narrowed her eyes. The dagger continued to hover and did not drop to the ground. Her hand still out, Cassandra stepped toward the blade. Quickly, she wrapped her fingers around the handle of the dagger as it began to drop. A triumphant look crossed her face.

  Her eyes flashed to Artem, the dagger glinting in her hand. “Did you see that? Did you see it?” Her eyes shone with excitement and she jumped up and down, powdery snow flying up from under the tread of her boots.

  “Well done, Cass!” Dolly clapped her hands and beamed a smile at Cassandra. Dolly stopped when Artem gave her a small shake of disapproval with his head.

  Cassandra had disobeyed my commands.

  Cassandra looked to me. “Cool, huh?”

  Taking three steps toward her, I took the dagger from her hand. “Session over. I said no tricks.”

  “You said no explosions.”

  “I said no tricks, no explosions, to let the dagger drop.”

  Rolling her eyes, she placed her hands on her hips. “Really, Draco? I only reached out and—”

  “Really.” Turning, I walked over to the log, gathering the rest of the daggers.

  Artem had an amused look on his face as I walked by him. As I headed into the tr
ailer, I asked him, “What is so funny?”

  With a smirk on his face, Artem said, “Wait for it. Three, two…”

  The thwack of a cold ball of snow hit the center of the back of my head. Artem broke into a fit of laughter as he said, “One.”

  Turning back, brushing the snow from my hair, I gazed at Cassandra. Her pink tongue stuck out of her rose mouth in an act of defiance.

  Smiling to myself, I continued to the trailer. Cassandra was only making more trouble for herself. Without turning to face her, I casually called over my shoulder, “Cassandra, may I see you in the trailer a moment?”

  I continued walking without looking back. I knew she would obey. I knew she would come.

  Artem cleared his throat. “I’m going to wolf it up for a few minutes—check the perimeter.”

  “I’ll… um, help,” Dolly volunteered. I could hear their footsteps headed toward the forest.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Deo

  The darkness was never changing. There was no flicker of light, fading of the sun, or sliver of silver. There was only darkness, and silence.

  Never had I been imprisoned. Never have I been out of control. I reached down to my waist, feeling both gratitude and despair. The bastards now had the black box, but obviously had not known the power of the belt around my waist. A lot of good that did me though. Until I regained my strength… hell, until I got out of this fucking hole, the enchanted talisman was nothing more than an ornately engraved buckle.

  “Cassandra,” I whispered her name just to hear it. “My Cassandra.” Where was she now? It had been two days since I’d seen her… held her. All that mattered was that she was safe. I had no way of knowing if my captors had made their way to the woods, finding her and the dragon. Once again, I prayed that I had hidden Margaret well enough and prayed the others were still tucked safely in the castle, finishing their meal.

  Earlier, during dinner, Xander had not returned by the time the second course was being served. Having been in wolf form the majority of the time lately, scanning our perimeter, fatigue had made it difficult more than once for him to remove his belt on his own. Margaret had found the smaller gray wolf that was Xander, sleeping and snoring softly on the stone steps of the castle just yesterday.

  Margaret approached me just as I was tucking into my fish. “Deo, Babyface hasn’t shown up yet and he promised me he’d return to eat, to sleep. Xander is probably passed out somewhere. Come and we will find him and help him with his belt.”

  “Poor kid is exhausted. We’ve been running him ragged.” Though the younger man actually preferred his animal form, it was imperative he remember he was a human first. His senses were more highly developed as a wolf, but it was his mind—his human mind—that allowed him to understand all he saw when out on his rounds. I stood, waving the others back into their chairs. “Finish eating. Margaret and I will find him.”

  When we reached the forest, there was no gray wolf waiting for us among the trees, eager to have his belt removed and come in for a hot meal. Looking out over the snow-covered forest, the hairs on the back of my neck began to bristle.

  Something was off.

  The breeze blew and with it came a terrible stench.

  “Deo? What is wrong?” Margaret demanded, seeing my hand go to my belt.

  Keeping my voice low, I commanded her, “Margaret, please for the love of God for once in your life do not argue with me and go as quickly and quietly as possible to the gatehouse and hide. There are demons here.”

  To my relief, biting her tongue, she obeyed. I watched as she shuffled off to the gatehouse—there was no way she would have made it to the castle in time. When I saw that she was safely shut behind the door, I began to unlatch my belt.

  I was too late.

  There were only a few of them but too many for me to fight in human form. They dragged me deeper into the forest, smart enough not to want to involve any members of my pack. They ripped the black box from my belt. Tried force to get me to tell them where Cassandra was.

  Sitting on the frozen ground of my prison, rubbing my wrists, I felt the wounds that were beginning to scar. By some act of the gods, I had managed to remove the wire from my bindings with my teeth. The metallic taste still tainted my mouth.

  My fingertips ran over the gash on my face. Not accepting I had no idea where Cassandra had been taken, the devils had done a thorough job of trying to gain the information. The punches, the kicks had been the beginning—the torture progressing until finally they brought out a blade. The pain had been searing, but I hadn’t cried out. The burning slice was nothing compared to the pain I would feel if I lost her.

  The cut ran down the right side of my face, from my hairline to my jaw. A reminder of the darkness that would trail me the rest of my days. I’d been barely conscious when one barked an order and the next thing I knew I was falling, my body bouncing from wall to wall until I finally slammed to a stop. The bastards had thrown me into an abandoned well, hands and feet bound together. Once I had freed my hands, it had taken only a few moments to unbind my feet.

  I placed my hand to the latch on my belt buckle. My bones ached, my muscles were like jelly, and the blood loss had drained my strength. I was too weak to try to transform and break out of the pit in my wolf form. It might kill me.

  Having run my hands over every stone in the walls, hoping for the smallest finger hold, the thinnest ledge, I’d found none. I supposed it could have been worse… at least this well had run dry. My head swam, my arms and legs shook, my gut twisted with worry, but I refused to give up. Without the black box, I couldn’t even contact Draco, couldn’t warn him of the conversation I’d overheard between the demons. Fuck! The only chance I had to save my love was to get to Cassandra before the demons did and I was stuck in a fucking hole in the ground!

  My black box was in the possession of evil and it was going to lead the demons straight to the camp. To Cassandra. To the couple I considered to be my parents. To my co-mate, Draco.

  Head aching, I tried to guess how long I had been in this pit. A half-hour? An hour? The others would be sure to be looking for me by now. I’d been fading in and out of consciousness, my face, ribs, and back throbbing with every beat of my heart.

  My head flew from my hands as I heard a scream and a scratching noise above me.

  The demons had returned.

  I braced myself for the next round of questioning, telling myself I could handle whatever they might do. Knowing it would not be a simple cut to the face and kicks to the ribs this time, I steeled my resolve. They could torture me all they wanted—as long as it kept them away from the woman who didn’t just own my heart, she was my very soul.

  I looked away as the old wooden cover high above me was slowly pushed aside, letting in the winter sunlight. I needed to protect what vision I had. Fighting against the fatigue and fear of not being able to protect my mates, my pack… my family, I knew I needed to be prepared for even the slightest opening, the smallest chance to best these demons.

  When my eyes had adjusted to the light, I took a deep breath. Raising my eyes to face my fate, my brow narrowed in confusion. Instead of seeing the unworldly blaze of red eyes, I saw the glow of yellow as a small shadow peered over the edge of the opening. The little figure gave another piercing shriek.

  “Dirtbag!” I had never been so happy to see any animal, much less such a mangy one. Letting out the uproarious laugh of a mad man, I rejoiced. “You’ve come for me!”

  “No shit, Sherlock.”

  Shit! The cat could talk? Would there be no end to the madness of this life?

  A larger shadow peered over beside the cat.

  “You didn’t think we’d leave you down here to rot like a sack of potatoes, did you, Deo?”

  “Aunt Margaret?” I exclaimed with a mixture of joy and disbelief. “What is happening up there? Where are the others? How did you find me? I don’t have the box…”

  “It was like… like something stole into my body, possessin
g me, calling me… like I could sense you,” she said, her eyes going huge, her hands weaving about in the air as she made a weird keening sound like one you’d hear in some cheesy horror film. Then, with a cackle, she shook her head. “How the hell do you think? I followed the little bastards and saw them throw you down here. Now, we can continue to play twenty questions, or, if you’d prefer, we can get your sorry ass out of this pit.”

  It was good to give a chuckle at this incredible, irreverent woman, but even better to watch her lowering a makeshift rope ladder rung by rung. Muttering and cursing, Margaret swatted Dirtbag out of the way. The ramshackle feline looked like he’d been around at least a hundred years, but his paw kept reaching out to play with my rescue device as a kitten would a ball of yarn.

  “All right, wolf boy. It’s tied tightly to a tree trunk up here. My fingers aren’t as good as they used to be, but I think the knots are pretty strong.” Margaret chortled again as she stood back. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough if my handiwork holds—if you fall back down on your ass.”

  Standing slowly, I gave myself a moment of grace to stretch my sore limbs. I made my way to the ladder, placing one hand on either side of the ropes. As I went to put my foot on the first rung, I chuckled as the rope began to lift me into the air. Margaret Magic. Balancing my weight upon the rung, my hands digging into the rope, I rose quickly from the dark hellhole. The magical ladder shook me off, tossing me to the ground with a thud.

  Dirtbag reached out to swipe at me, hissing as he did. Such a pleasant cat. I squatted and gave him a scratch behind the ear that had a chunk missing from it. My petting was rewarded with a sidelong glance from his only eye.

  “Thank you, kitty,” I said, giving him another scratch. With a sniff in the air, the cat turned away from me, walking regally, his stump of a tail held straight up in the air. I had been dismissed.

  Moving to my side, Margaret’s sarcasm disappeared as she spoke in a hushed whisper. “Oh, Deo, your poor face.”

  “Just a scratch.” My hand absently went to my face, my fingertips gliding over it.