The Mating Season: Werewolves of Montana Book 6

by Bonnie Vanak

  Down girl. I don’t want to venture here, either, but it seems we have little choice.

  As they stepped upon the sand, Tristan glanced at her, his expression guarded. “There are dangers below and above this desert, but the greatest danger is within.”

  “Would you mind being more specific?”

  “I can say no more.”

  “You sound like a Chinese fortune cookie.”

  “I have been told that before,” he agreed.

  The cryptic warning didn’t boost her self-confidence. Greatest danger from within? What did he mean and why couldn’t he elaborate? She’d have been better off with a Magic 8 ball or consulting her daily horoscope. Maybe it meant she had to find the internal spirit to set herself free. Tristan had mentioned that this was her journey.

  Not his.

  The crackling aura of his power became more visual. Before, it had manifested as a flicker around him, a faint silver aura much like the glint of a mirror on a cloudy day. Now it was like full sunshine hitting a mirrored surface, and she found it difficult to gaze at him.

  He walked apart from her, hands laced behind his back, his arrogant chin held high, his shoulders straight. She reminded herself that even here in the Shadow Lands, he was a being who held magick far beyond hers. No matter that he’d been her lover and mate in a past life, and wished to claim her again.

  The promises he’d made earlier dimmed in light of this drastic personality shift of this remote, powerful being. As if the wizard had replaced the Lupine who remembered her from his previous life, and wanted her as his mate again.

  She suspected it had to do with remembering his time here before.

  The sands seemed to stretch on forever. Every once in a while she’d see a flicker of a mirage, like a watery reflection in a pond. Some were sharper than others. They would appear, then vanish.

  Making small talk, she chattered about a science book she’d read on biology and plants.

  He gave her a level look. “Concentrate on where you step, Nikita. Less chatter and more awareness.”

  Gone was the endearing “my sweet.” She had never heard him be this critical.

  “I am aware. I’m very aware of how moody you’ve become.”

  They walked for what seemed like a long time before they came upon an outcropping of trees like nothing she’d ever seen. Stubby trees with peeling gray bark, their limbs outstretched in sinister shapes, like arms ready to pull her aside.

  “Avoid those trees,” he told her.

  She did not hesitate to heed his warning. A sulphuric odor clung to them, and her wolf whined again.

  When he stopped, his power pulsing like a beacon cutting through the night, she swallowed hard. Show no fear.

  Instead, she softened her tone. “What is it, Tristan? What is it about this place that makes you so edgy? You have power enough to overcome everything.”

  “I am not edgy. I am the Silver Wizard. And I have no need of your flattery.”

  “Tristan, the Great and Terrible Wizard,” she mocked, resenting his curt tone.

  “Nikita, I am in no mood for games.”

  Giving a shrug that hid her resentment, she skipped ahead. “Then stop acting so surly as if we’re walking through quicksand. I’ve been cooped up my entire life in a basement and I’d like to explore. This is a desert, but you said the Shadow Lands are filled with manifestations of magick. The Shadow Lands aren’t so bad if you can control your thoughts and your dreams. It’s not pleasant, but…”

  Barely had the words fled her mouth when the sand opened beneath her feet. She spilled downward, into a long, dark tunnel. Her wolf howled in fright.

  Down she fell, about ten feet, until unexpectedly she went sprawling into a square, dark room. And then the opening above her turned into a pane of glass, closing across the box.

  In abject panic, she hurled herself up at it, uselessly. Her skull collided with the glass, stunning her, and then she fell hard to the floor.

  Panting, she looked at her prison. No more than 5 x 5, it was a cage with black walls, the only light coming from above.

  Her greatest fear had manifested itself. She was trapped and alone.

  When she had been confined to her apartment, Niki had left each night, roaming the ranch woods as wolf. Only the open sky and fresh air had soothed her wolf, had enabled her to remain in the apartment each day.

  Now, imprisoned in this box, her wolf began to howl. But she could not shift. Her magick was useless in the Shadow Lands.

  Claustrophobia squeezed her like a vise. She fought to catch her breath, to not hyperventilate. You’re trapped, Niki. Trapped in this box, as you were trapped in your basement apartment for your entire life.

  She scrabbled for logic in the face of her fear: Tristan wouldn’t leave her here. He wouldn’t.

  You will stay here and no one would find out, or care.

  No one will know the true you, because your entire life has been non-existent. You’re a ghost. Trapped. No freedom.

  No.

  “Tristan,” she screamed. “Help me, please!”

  She looked upward through the glass ceiling and saw him standing above her, arms folded, gazing into the distance. Couldn’t he see her? Hear her screams?

  “Help me,” she begged, pounding on the ceiling.

  But he didn’t even look at her.

  His impervious stance told her that he was indifferent to her needs, just as he’d been nine hundred years ago.

  Whatever held her in its grip was torturing her, causing excruciating mental agony.

  She could not breathe and she could not summon her wolf, the beast that always gave her strength in times of crisis and anguish.

  Then a gentle, deep voice spoke inside her mind, pushing aside the clanging of her thoughts. Focus, Nikita. You can do it. Do not fear. Look within. You are strong and brave. And I will not let you be forgotten. But you must help yourself.

  She stretched out her hands and pushed at the ceiling, which seemed now to be lowering upon her. She felt the crushing weight as much as the lack of oxygen.

  Panic squeezed her lungs. She began to thrash helplessly, gasping for air and wasting what little she had left. No. Stop it! Get a hold of yourself.

  Look within.

  Centering her concentration, she closed her eyes and stopped pushing at the glass ceiling. She focused on all the good things about her basement apartment: its safety and quiet and cool, clean familiarity. She had in some ways enjoyed the years of living on the ranch in relative isolation from the pack. She’d loved the elders who fussed over her and treated her like a favorite grandchild. She recalled the love and affection of her father and brothers. The joy of running wild and free as wolf at night. She could do that in her mind, if she just concentrated. And the walls would fall away.

  Nikita traveled further in her memory, feeling the deep, binding love of her identical twin. Nia, I miss you so much.

  The glass ceiling continued to descend, pressing her down into the floor of the box, trying to incite her to fresh panic.

  Niki refused. She took a deep breath. Miss you, Nia, but I’m so happy you and Aiden are together. You deserve to be happy, and deserve a good Lupine like him. You’re both strong leaders and will serve our people well.

  I’m strong, too, but I’ve never had the chance to explore what I can do, because I’ve been afraid all my life and trapped by a prophecy that the wizard might find me and destroy me. Well, he’s found me now, and I’m on a great adventure.

  Trapped in a damned box instead of my apartment!

  But at least I’m not at home. I’m traveling! Maybe not officially—there’s no stamp on my passport, but at least we bypass the long lines at customs and immigration.

  The thought struck her as wildly ironic and funny. She laughed, and forgot about everything except the absurdity of the situation. And then she stared upward, still laughing.

  Fine. I can stay here, take a nice nap. No prob.

  The glass ceiling vanished
, and she found herself on the sands near Tristan once more. His back to her, he seemed to study the squat trees.

  “Tristan,” she whispered.

  No response.

  “Look at me,” she ordered. “Damnit, Tristan, stop ignoring me. I called to you and you didn’t help me! I felt like I was dying!”

  He turned and Niki gasped. He started to raise his hand to reach for her, and then it dropped to his side. He did not look at her, seemed to look past her.

  Silver-colored blood trickled between the fingers of his clenched fists.

  Niki went to him, reached for his hand. He jerked it away, but she grabbed his wrist. So cold, like death. She unfurled his bloody palm and winced at the cuts made by his nails.

  “Talk to me,” she urged. “Please. Why did you do this to yourself? What’s going on, Tristan?”

  When he finally spoke, he sounded broken. “It was the only way I could stop from reaching for you. It is forbidden for me to come to your aid when you face your darkest fear in this world, when the struggle isn’t against creatures you can manifest like the spider or the worm, but yourself. You had to find your own way out of that box. If I had helped you other than by giving you encouragement… I could have lost you forever.”

  And then she understood what it cost him to watch her struggle and panic, caught in the grip of the trap fashioned by her deepest fears. To feel powerless and helpless to aid her, just as he felt powerless when he was held prisoner by the Fae, and eventually executed. Niki lifted his hand to her lips and gently pressed a kiss to his wounded palm.

  The bloody lacerations faded.

  Surprise flickered in his eyes. “Why did you do that?”

  “To thank you, and heal you. Every Lupine needs the power behind a simple touch, Tristan. Especially when they feel lost and hurt inside, and helpless.”

  “I am not Lupine. Nor helpless.” He pulled his hand away and the impartial coldness returned to his demeanor. “Do not make the mistake of thinking me that way, Nikita.”

  “You were Lupine once. You were like me, like Others, in a past life.”

  “No longer. The Shadow World holds not the dangers for me that it does for you.” He laced his hands behind his back once more. “I’ve already paid the price when I was here hundreds of years ago, and finally learned to free myself.”

  She was in another world, and each step carried unknown dangers. She needed connection in a world fraught with uncertainty.

  “Then show me the price you paid, Tristan. It will help me to reconnect with you.”

  He gave her a quick, startled look. “Here? Now?”

  Giving a philosophical shrug, she went on. “I can’t think of a better time or place. You came here after you died. Show me what it was like for you. I need to know what you endured.”

  She spread out her arms. “I feel as if none of this world affects you.”

  “It once did,” he said quietly. “You do not want to see what happened. You already watched me die, once.”

  “I do want to see.” She gathered her courage. “Because nothing, absolutely nothing, could be as horrible as watching them torture and then kill you.”

  A cynical look entered his eyes. “Very well.”

  Tristan waved a hand and suddenly she was transported to a dark forest. She saw him, wearing the clothing he was executed in, wandering among the trees. Blood streamed down his face and his clothing was stained with it.

  “Nikita!” he screamed. “Nikita! Nikita!”

  Her own name, shouted over and over again, cut through her like a blade. Then the dream-Tristan sank to his knees, rocking back and forth.

  He shifted into a silver wolf. The wolf, his fur matted with blood, lifted his head and howled, the sound so piercing it hurt her eardrums. Niki winced and plugged her ears with her fingers. She could not bear to hear it.

  Tristan waved his hand and the image vanished. The fine angles and planes of his handsome face tightened.

  “You have seen what I endured, Nikita. Now you know.”

  “That was your life here after you perished? For how long?” she whispered.

  “Days, perhaps. Or weeks.” He squatted down, scooped sand into his palm and let the grains fall through his fingers. “My time here was like an hourglass. An hourglass marking each minute, each second, in a hell I could not escape. Not a true hell, but a hell of my own because I lost you. And I will not lose you again.”

  Tristan stretched out his hands. “I am the Silver Wizard, and I have the power now to keep you safe. And once we enter Tir Na-nog, we will come together again in passion as it was before, and create a baby to replace what we both lost.”

  He might as well have been making a speech to an audience for all the authority in his tone. He wanted to command her fate, as much as he’d wanted to command the army that fought in the Drakon War.

  She sensed he hid behind his power and might, and the mask of imperviousness because he didn’t want to fully share himself or care about her that deeply again. Niki felt her chest tighten. Love screwed things up because loving someone could really hurt. Her own love for her identical twin, who had worried about her leaving, had trapped her in that basement as much as fear of the prophecy had.

  But she wasn’t a vessel for his pleasure, or his purpose to create a child. She was living flesh and blood, with dreams and hopes of her own. Sex, yeah, she longed to be intimate and swept off her feet into an erotic bliss she’d never experienced. But not left cold and alone afterward, with no one to share her life with, no mate to be there for her, to grow old with, and watch their grandchildren play.

  It was as if he guarded his heart against her. She thought she’d grown closer to understanding him, but that glimpse inside him barely flicked the curtain.

  The wizard was a cement wall, and she’d had enough brick walls surrounding her.

  She sat on the sand. It was neither hot nor cold. It was neutral, like Tristan’s expression, when she felt only frustration and grief that he’d shut himself away from her after the little glimpse she’d seen of how much he had cared.

  “We must go.” He looked around. “It is too dangerous here. You are too vulnerable in the open.”

  No use protesting. Tristan, looking grim again, pressed onward. Scrambling to follow, she tried to quiet her rapidly beating heart, certain it was audible.

  They left the outcropping of stubby, distorted trees and entered the open sands once more. Niki’s head felt foggy and her thoughts cloudy with anger and frustration. Clouds rolled in overhead, reflecting her darkened mood.

  He glanced upward and then back at her. “The weather is changing. I did not do this.”

  “It’s probably me. Watch out, because it will storm next, with the way I’m feeling.”

  “Control your emotions, Nikita,” he said tightly. “They will not serve you well here and you are still alive, not a spirit manifestation like the Others here. Negative emotions will attract negative beings eager to siphon away your energy.”

  Barely had they gone more than one hundred yards when a thick mist rolled over the sands. Tristan immediately tensed. “Get behind me.”

  What now? Could it be worse than becoming trapped inside her own mind, in a box that held her captive?

  And then the mists cleared and all around them sprang up a rich, green forest. Dead leaves swirled at their feet and the air was ripe with an underlying smell of decay. And I thought the desert was bad…

  Tristan’s nostrils flared. “Stay back.”

  Mist rolled through the black trees and then the wisps of fog took shape. Four creatures, the size of large grizzly bears, stood before them. With black pits for eyes, red slashes for nose and mouth, and spindly bodies of gray flesh, they looked like a nightmare sprung to life.

  Tristan glanced back at her.

  “Not me,” she screamed. “I imagined vibrators with tentacles, not this!”

  “Nikita Blakemooooore,” one creature hissed, showing razor sharp claws. “We have come for you
on the bidding of our mistress. She wants your beating heart.”

  “Nikita, conjure a weapon,” Tristan snapped, spreading out his arms to shield her.

  But her horrified mind could only imagine the plastic toy swords she’d seen her older brothers play with as children. Instantly a plastic sword appeared in her trembling right hand. Trembling, she held it outward, hoping plastic was effective in this world.

  The wraiths moved forward, and then rushed past Tristan, aiming for her. Niki fought them with the short blade, but succeeded in stabbing only one. It vanished soon as her sword sank into its chest.

  It seemed the material of the weapon did not matter, only her aim. Filled with more confidence, she slashed at the creatures as they tried clawing at her with their razored hands. She sliced off one hand, but it regenerated.

  “Aim for their chests,” Tristan shouted, as he cornered one wraith.

  “You cannot destroy us, Silver Wizard!” it sang out.

  “I may not destroy you as the Silver Wizard, but I can fight you as a Lupine.”

  Tristan shifted into a large silver wolf. Snarling, he leapt at the creature, which backed up against a tree. Jaws snapping, he tore apart one wraith, who vanished with a loud pop of air.

  But as he turned for the other, it picked up the silver wolf by its neck.

  A bone-chilling snap rang through the stale air as the creature broke Tristan’s neck. The wolf tumbled downward onto the forest floor.

  No! Shock immobiled her.

  Then panic and grief squeezed her insides. Tristan, oh Tristan, you can’t be dead!

  She saw the wolf rise, its head at an awkward angle. It was alive…with a broken neck. No time to contemplate that, for the wraith advanced.

  Snarling, she lifted her sword and started to rush the creature, which swiped at her with dry, dead razor claws.

  Then the wolf shook its head, straightened his neck with an audible pop. He lunged forward and sank its teeth into the creature’s hindquarters. It screamed and tried to shake off the wolf, but Tristan tore its leg off. Slimy yellow fluid gushed out onto the forest floor.

  The wolf lunged for the creature’s throat and tore it apart. The wraith vanished with a howl and a rushing of air.