by Bonnie Vanak
“Robert. Come quickly. Chey just gave birth and there’s trouble.”
Blood drained from his face. “The baby?”
Melanie nodded. “She’s not breathing.”
They hurried into the main lodge.
Panic squeezed Aurora’s throat. Memories gushed back like a tidal wave: the witch’s cruel cackles as she bent over the baby, one long fingernail scratching into her tiny chest…the baby’s gasps, and then nothing.
I can help. I can fix this. Please, don’t let her die.
Aurora tore after Robert and Melanie. As they raced up the stairs inside the lodge, she followed. The pair hooked a right into a room at the hallway’s far end. The air was thick with dampness, blood, and bodily fluids. A woman lay on the bed amid crumpled, bloodied bedsheets, sobbing into a man’s arms.
Ignoring them, Robert raced for the counter and the sink where the midwife had placed the baby. The woman was slowly running water over the baby, immersing her in the water, but the baby’s skin was blue. So cold. So very cold. Aurora shivered. She heard the mother’s wailing sobs and her throat tightened.
The baby had to live. Had to. No more death.
“I tried resuscitating her. I did everything,” the midwife told him, her anguish evident.
“No,” he said, his teeth gritted. “I will not lose another child in this pack. This will not happen again!”
Removing his shirt, he gently picked up the newborn and held her against his bare chest. “Come on little one, breathe. Breathe.”
He sat in the white rocker by the window and chanted a spell in the ancient tongue. Softly he began to sing a lullaby Aurora recognized from her own childhood. The melody made her throat squeeze as the alpha rocked the newborn, rubbing her back in soothing motions.
Such tenderness from such a powerful, strong male. Maybe his magick would work.
But the baby remained blue and unresponsive.
The mother wailed, her grief a living thing. Robert glanced at Aurora and she saw the despair in his eyes. Even snobbish Melanie twisted her hands as she stared at Robert.
“I don’t understand,” Melanie told him. “You’ve always brought the babies back to life before. Why is this happening now? What can we do?”
Melanie’s lower lip wobbled as she looked helplessly at Aurora, from one woman to another, as if they were bonded in a sisterhood of grief. “This is Chey’s first child. She was so excited, they were so happy…they tried for months to conceive. They even moved back into the lodge because the magick here…”
“Mel!” Robert growled deep in his throat and the woman shut up.
More secrets. But those secrets mattered not. Not now, when an innocent life hovered in the balance. Aurora held out her arms. “Give her to me.”
“No, don’t! The Mage has dark magick,” Melanie cried out.
So much for sisterhood.
Aurora waited. She could not command the alpha. But if she must, she could grab the baby and run with her. Run far away, where evil could not strangle the poor child.
Robert hesitated.
“Give her to me. I can save her.”
Standing, he handed her the baby.
The mother stopped sobbing and stared at Aurora, tears trickling down her cheeks. Aurora stroked the baby’s cheek and laid her next to her chest, where the baby could hear her rapid heartbeat.
Turning her back on everyone, she kissed the top of the baby’s soft skull, and breathed over it while murmuring an ancient Mage spell. She had lost her dragon seeking abilities, but perhaps her other powers could work. The pack must never find out what magick she possessed…she had to let them believe the Lupine bonding worked for this child.
Aurora turned and went to the bed, placing the child into her mother’s arms, laying her on the mother’s chest where the baby could hear her mother’s heartbeat and discern the difference.
“Put your hands on her back and gently rub her. All of you,” she directed. Her gaze met Robert’s. “Especially you, the alpha. But don’t talk. Let her hear only her mother’s heartbeat.”
They sat on the bed and did so. For several minutes, they touched the new, innocent life.
At last, after several long seconds, the baby began to cough. Then she opened her eyes and cried.
It was the most beautiful sound Aurora had ever heard.
The mother sobbed, this time her crying combined with laughter.
Tears filled Aurora’s own eyes.
I did it. I did it! She stretched out her hands and marveled at them. Perhaps her magick wasn’t dead after all.
“How did you know what to do?” Melanie looked at her with wonder.
“She’s a Lupine, and packs matter. Lupines need touch. They crave it. More than Mages, especially when they are born.
“But I was tou—” the midwife began.
Aurora cut her off, not wanting to take credit, but needing to distract them from thinking too hard about any power she might have. “Lupines need to imprint on the mother, and their own kind. It was a group effort.”
A small white lie. The pack bonding had helped the child to find her breathing rhythm. But Aurora knew her own white magick had saved the child.
Other Lupines had entered the room to see. Everyone crowded around the baby and the proud parents, touching the newborn, cooing at her as she cried.
Aurora hung back in the confusion.
No one noticed her. She did not belong, even though she had helped. That hurt more than she cared to admit.
She quietly slipped out and went down the stairs to help start dinner, her chest tight.
No matter what pleasure Robert had brought to her body, or how she’d become his mate, she did not belong here.
Chapter 7
Much later that night, Robert sipped coffee, watching Aurora clean up. She’d refused to stay still, ate little and bustled around the dining room, serving everyone.
As if she were still a godsdamn slave.
The magick she’d worked with the newborn had brought such joy to the pack. Everyone talked about it at dinner, except they seemed to forget Aurora was the one who’d worked it.
She seemed as invisible as the warding he’d placed over the pack lands to keep out intruders.
And his magick continued to grow weaker, while Aurora’s powers were stronger. He thought about how the bird had revived. It had to be Aurora and her sexual energy.
What was she? Instinct warned she held a power equal to his. Aurora could be dangerous to his pack. Yet he must mate with her and break the curse.
Robert curled his hand around the cup so tight that it cracked. Each day his ability to keep his people safe grew dimmer. Once couples only had to glance at each other and they conceived. Chey and Mark Miller were the latest couple who wanted to start a family. They had tried for several months, then moved back to the lodge in hopes that the pack magick was stronger there.
But the protective powers restraining the evil upon this land were fading. Tristan had warned him this would happen. Caroline’s dark magick lay in wait, like a sinkhole beneath the earth. Soon the ground would crumble, and they’d all fall into the chasm. The land would grow foul and unusable.
Birds would fall from the sky with broken wings.
Babies would die again.
And it was only a question of time until he might not be able to help either the animals or the children on his property.
The blue jay with the broken wing and the Miller baby were the first warning signs. Robert stared into his empty coffee cup. He was running out of time. He must formally mate with Aurora in the traditional pack ceremony by the full moon and hope to hell the mating could lift the curse from his pack.
He glanced up to see her pile dirty plates upon a platter and then scurry into the kitchen.
Each time he tried engaging her in conversation, she darted away. She seemed intent on ignoring him.
Had he embarrassed her with his attentions in the guest house? She had been sensual and wanting thi
s afternoon, not confused or shy.
Perhaps she had her own reasons for maintaining her distance. But the display of sensuality she’d shown had cranked up his own passion. He wanted her fiercely. Her orgasm greatly pleased him, for when they joined together in the formal ritual, she would need that passion to see her through the coldness of the ceremony.
Robert threw away his cracked cup and brought the saucer into the kitchen. Aurora went still, putting a plate into the dishwasher.
Silently she took the saucer to rinse it, but he stayed her hand. Then he drew her away from the sink.
He stroked a thumb across her lower lip. “Thank you for saving the baby today.”
She stared up at him with huge eyes. “I had to save her.”
Robert frowned. “Why?”
For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t answer. Then she said in a small voice, “Because she deserved to live. All babies deserve to live.”
Then she returned to stacking the dishwasher, shutting him out.
Troubled, he removed a package of raw beef from the refrigerator. Then he left the lodge. Instead of heading for his private cabin, he walked through the gardens, toward the fields. After passing the guest house where he’d given such pleasure to Aurora, Robert sat on a stone bench overlooking the fields and tugged off his dusty boots and socks.
Barefoot, he walked into the fields. Damp grass squished between his toes. The fecund smell of loamy earth tickled his nostrils. Robert walked between the rows of tall sapling palms, watching small creatures scurry before his steps.
At the field’s far edge was an underground chamber, a doorway leading to a tunnel below the earth. But tonight the dragon did not slumber. Lizards and snakes, drawn to the dragon’s warm breath on this chilly night, hovered near the rock where the silver dragon rested. A coral snake, disturbed at his footsteps, rose to strike.
Robert waved a hand and the snake slid away.
“Scales,” he called softly.
The dragon lifted his head. Robert smiled. When Tristan had gifted him with the dragon, the wizard told him Scales was smaller than most dragons, which made him easier to hide. About the size of an eight-foot alligator, Scales had two bright silver wings tucked up against his body. Two blue horns protruded from his head and his eyes glowed sapphire blue. Smoke drifted from his nostrils as he moved his forked tail, much like a dog joyously greeting his master. He grinned at Robert, showing missing, jagged teeth.
Robert sighed. Yet another tooth lost. Scales was aging. And while once he was plump, with a round belly, his ribs now jutted out. He’d refused to eat. Scales once adored flying, but he hadn’t opened his wings in months, despite the magick shield Robert draped around him, turning Scales invisible from the public.
Sitting on the limestone rock, Robert stroked the dragon’s scaled head, and the dragon purred. Scales’ silver color had begun to fade.
How long do dragons live?
More than a thousand years, Tristan had told him. But the wizard had not informed him how old Scales was. And lately Scales had shown more signs of aging and pain. Soon, the time would come when Scales would die.
Emotion tightened his throat. Don’t leave us, please. I don’t want to lose you. You’re family. I’ve already lost so many of my family.
You are all that is holding us together.
He held out a slice of raw beef. “Come on, Scales. Just a piece.”
The dragon turned his head and lifted his right front leg. The smallest claw on that leg ended in a stub. Tristan told him Scales lost it in a fight with another dragon.
Worry filled him. Ever since Aurora’s arrival, Scales had refused to eat. Not even his favorite meal. “Eat,” Robert commanded in a deep voice.
The dragon opened his mouth and flames poured out, heating the rock and searing the beef. Robert’s hand remained unburnt.
Finally Scales licked at the meat and swallowed the strip. But when Robert offered him another piece, the dragon slid away into the dark cavern.
He left the package of beef on the rock, laying the slices out in neat strips. Then he walked away.
The waxing moon shone bright, shiny as a polished nickel in the sky. Robert stretched out his hands, reaching for the sky. Pleasuring Aurora today had cranked up his blood, his own sexual need.
He glanced down at the earth, troubled by the dry, brown circles appearing in the grass. They had grown larger since his last visit a week ago. Echoing the Miller baby’s lifelessness, the land was dying. The spell protecting them had cracked around the edges, all because Scales was growing fainter, and his magick weaker.
Shedding his clothing, and then stacking it in a neat pile by a palm, he lifted his face to the sky. He thought of Aurora, the languid pleasure in her face, passion glazing her eyes as she climaxed.
He could not wait to take her formally and make her his own.
But first, he must attend to the needs of the land. As much as he’d longed to have sex with Aurora back at the cottage after he’d pleasured her, Robert knew he had to save his seed for the earth.
Guy’s mating ceremony would take place in three days. He would be there to bless the formal union between his beta and Helen.
And soon it would be his turn to consummate his union with Aurora.
At the thought of doing so, his sex became erect, strong and eager. Robert took himself in hand. It took only a few short strokes and his seed spurted out in thick streams, landing upon the parched ground. It vanished into the earth.
A minute later, the ground rumbled with approval and verdant grass sprung up, spreading over the brown patches.
He’d replenished the spell, but how long would it last? At best it was temporary, until he mated with Aurora in the formal ceremony and lifted the curse. The curse could not be lifted until they completed the ceremony of the ritual mating.
A matter to ponder later. Now, he needed his wolf. The beast within him snarled to be released. It was always this way after visiting the dragon.
Robert lifted his arms again and shifted into wolf.
A growl rumbled from his throat as he pawed at the ground, eager to mate, eager to get the Mage naked beneath him, to claim Aurora as his own.
The wolf ran through the fields into the night, howling for his mate.
Chapter 8
As isolated and ignored as she was, Aurora still sensed the excitement of Guy and Helen’s upcoming mating ceremony. Aurora remained busy helping Susan and the other females to make small bird’s nests filled with candied almonds as party favors.
She found empty soda cans thrown away by the tourists who’d visited the café and cut out the aluminum, fashioning a set of pretty wind chimes as a mating gift. When the breeze caught the chimes, they sparkled and sang like the whispers of a fairy.
It was her own special gift to the bride and groom, endowed with the barest trace of her magick. She could only chant spells and create weak power. Not like the power she’d once possessed. The slave collar around her neck reminded her of her lost abilities.
The day of the wedding, she sat at the kitchen table, drizzling melted chocolate over hardened balls of peanut butter. Susan and the others had gone to decorate the tables in the yard near the wedding gazebo, where the festivities would be held outdoors. The day shone bright, with cloudless skies. Perfect for a wedding.
The strong aroma of cedar and sandalwood suddenly cut through the delicious smell of chocolate and peanut butter. Spoon hovering over a peanut butter ball, she went still as Robert leaned over her. “Delicious,” he murmured, popping a ball into his mouth.
Aurora tilted her head up to look at him upside down as he chewed and swallowed. “That’s for later.”
“Can’t resist. Wolves adore peanut butter.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss against her forehead. “And other delectable treats.”
The sparkle in his eyes, his crooked grin, filled her with delicious heat. Then Susan entered the kitchen. “Rob, I have to talk to you about the ritual for tonight.” The Lupi
ne glanced at Aurora. “Alone.”
He left with his sister, and Aurora felt cold once more. She remained an outsider. And she wasn’t here to ingratiate herself into their fold, but kill the dragon.
The thought depressed her. She had never killed anything before. How could she gather the courage to do this?
She was a dragon seeker, with the ability to find such fantastic, mythical creatures. She had been trained to discover and capture them, not kill them. To find a rare silver dragon and then plunge a dagger into its heart…
Aurora wiped away a tear.
Later that afternoon, the pack sat in folding chairs in the garden before the wedding gazebo as Guy and Helen exchanged vows.
Her heart skipped a beat as she envisioned herself in Helen’s place, clad in a white flowing dress, a circlet of white roses upon her head, beaming at her groom.
Melancholy settled over her. She and Robert did not share love, like Guy and Helen. Their union would be political, nothing more. No love. Love was hollow, a meaningless concept to her.
After the formal ceremony, the guests retired to the reception. An enormous white tent, stretched over the lawn, protected the guests from the setting sun. The skies were streaked rose, violet, and yellow—a good omen, she’d overheard. A balmy breeze blew through the trees, rustling the leaves. Covered with white linen tablecloths, each table bore a squat glass vase of white roses, white hyacinth, and honeysuckle.
As alpha, Robert held a place of honor at the head table, but she’d been placed at a table with Susan, her mate Louis, and their friends. Melanie sat at a table in the back.
Susan had given her the night off as a reward for her hard work. Other Lupines bustled about the room, serving the meal. Susan had even paid her, and then took her shopping to buy a gown for the formal event.
In her pink, floor-length gown, she felt like a fairy princess. The V-neck bodice with its spaghetti straps was embellished with sparkling silver sequins, and the skirt was flowing chiffon.