Act of Submission

by Mandy M. Roth

  “Agreed not to say what?” asked Boomer.

  Auberi touched his chin. “Wait for it. It will come to him.”

  “Och, we’ve been over this before,” added Striker. “He’s a cat shifter. They’re daft. Boomer, yer to be a daddy.”

  Boomer felt faint and moved to take a seat at one of the chairs they’d set up for the get together. Auberi was suddenly next to him and Boomer realized the sun must have set. Auberi touched his shoulder. “Wait until it sinks in that your child will have vampire blood in him or her.”

  Boomer paled more.

  Haven slapped Auberi’s arm and moved to stand next to Boomer. “Miles? Are you okay? I’m waiting for test results that James ran. So I might not be.”

  James cleared his throat. “Oh, you are. The results are in.”

  Laney beamed and rushed Haven, hugging her tight. “Congratulations!”

  Boomer yelped.

  Striker tossed him a beer and he caught it with one hand. Striker lifted his own in the air. “To kitty slipping one past the goalie!”

  Haven laughed. “How romantic. I can see you’re all great with words.”

  Boomer grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap, his hand finding her abdomen. “Wow.”

  “Yes. Wow, Miles.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “Sorry that you got a wife and a child so suddenly.”

  “I’m not,” he said, kissing her gently. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” She paused, and then pointed in the direction of Scar. “I see you eyeing up Striker. No. You can’t eat him. Bad Scar. Stop thinking about it.”

  “We’re totally fine if the cat wants to eat him,” said Duke, who caught an elbow to the rib from his mate for the comment.

  “Don’t you let that cat eat him. He’s the only one who eats my cooking,” said Mercy, making the rest of the group laugh.

  “Stupid Scots,” said Corbin with wink.

  Boomer stilled and kissed his wife’s cheek. “Baby, if the little one is a boy, we should name him after your brother.”

  “I think I’d like that,” she said, returning his kiss.

  THE END

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  Excerpt from Scared Places (Druid Series, Book One) by Mandy M. Roth

  Coyle O’Caha bent over his woodworking bench and continued to carve into a piece of oak he’d been toying with for several weeks now. He disliked when he came across oak trees being cut down, and often bought them in bulk to avoid them going to waste.

  Oak was special to his people—the druids. Humans held little regard for oak in the way they should. Truth be told, humans did not care for much, other than themselves. He was not a fan of them but understood they were a necessary evil. An evil he was charged with protecting.

  Stupid rules.

  He sighed. There were days he often wondered if the goddess selected right when sending him to be birthed to a family of druid sorcerers and then tasking them with overseeing humans’ safety as well as the training of other magiks.

  He didn’t mind magiks so much.

  Though, more and more the new batches of witches coming through his doors for guidance held less and less respect for the craft and for its roots. They merely sought power for the sake of power. Those types almost always ended up going bad—souring and becoming something Coyle, his brothers and cousins hunted.

  It had been a month or more since the last dark sorcerer had surfaced. The O’Caha boys dispatched him quickly, ending his life and harnessing his dark magik to keep it from reentering the ether and causing issues later. The dark sorcerer had more bluster than actual power. Guess he should have waited to go to the dark side before he started issuing threats and trying to be a badass, because he’d not had the juice to back his threats. Most threats were easy to deal with considering the ages of the O’Caha boys. Though, every once in a while one would crop up who took some real effort.

  Korey, his first cousin and best friend, had just returned from a hunt for a dark sorcerer like that—one who took a toll on the person or people hunting him. Korey had gotten a little banged up but was fine. The same couldn’t be said for their cousin Gordon. He’d already suffered at the hands of demons and was paying the price. All the O’Caha men held guilt over Gordon. They each felt as though they’d failed him in some fashion.

  And they had.

  He’d been brutally attacked and held captive for months by a dark sorcerer who had turned to the ways of the vampires—the blood drinkers. Gordon had not come out the other side of the ordeal the same as he’d gone in.

  Who would?

  Gordon now was also considered a vampire, though none of the O’Caha boys would ever dream of hunting him. The damn eejit thought himself a danger to mankind and was doing a damn fine job of trying to end himself. The fool had no idea that the good-hearted man he’d once been still remained. That the blood drinker side of him did not rule him.

  Couldn’t get it through Gordon’s thick skull, though.

  Another O’Caha faulty trait.

  Stubbornness.

  Coyle glanced at the wall, wondering if he should try, again, to call Gordon. The man was refusing to answer his cell, and even mystical summons were yielding no results. If Gordon didn’t respond soon, Coyle would bring in the big guns.

  Their grandmother.

  She’d straighten him out or pull him by his ear to the rest of the boys so they could. Many a time in his seven hundred years Coyle had found himself on the receiving end of her pointed finger, her gaze narrow, her other hand on her hip. For a woman who didn’t even come to his shoulder, she was scary when she wanted to be and extremely loving and nurturing all other times.

  Oh yes, he’d bring her in for sure if Gordon didn’t respond to him soon.

  He smiled, his focus returning to the Oak King sculpture he was carving. So much of his time had been poured into carving this or that. At his age, getting lost in a project was a must. If he didn’t, he’d dwell on the past, on all the things he could not change yet desperately wanted to. Worse yet, he’d dwell on the fact that none of the O’Caha boys had found their chosen ones. Women who were the other halves of their immortal souls. Other immortals they knew had found true love. But none of the O’Caha men had.

  Coyle wondered what their line had done to piss off the goddess. They respected her and feared her. She did not seem to find them in her favor though, for they were all still very single.

  Some liked that.

  Others, such as himself, were ready to start families and have something more in life. He sighed. It hadn’t happened in sev
en hundred years and didn’t look as if it ever would. For now, he’d do what he always did with his spare time—he’d stay busy. He carved around the mouth of the statue, paying extra attention to each pass he did, letting his love of his past pour forth and into the oak.

  The idea for the Oak King had come to him while he slept, as many of his better ones did. The soft sounds of music from the motherland played as he lost himself in his work.

  The pub’s building was large enough that Coyle could have a workshop in the back without issue. He had an apartment above it. While he could live like a king, as could any of the O’Caha men, he chose to live a simple life. Others did not need to know he was worth millions, perhaps billions—he tended to lose count.

  Money meant little to him. He could still vividly recall when he and his clan had lived in the Highlands, hunting for food, living off the land. So many modern conveniences meant so many took so much for granted.

  Not Coyle.

  He held great respect for the land and for the magik that created it all. That same magik ran through his veins, often wanting to be free. With his age and position came high titles within the supernatural magik community. He and his brothers and cousins each held positions upon the High Council of Magiks. There were so many O’Caha that the other members often joked the vote would never be in their favor.

  Not true.

  The O’Cahas were fair and just.

  END EXCERPT

  To buy Scared Places, or learn more about Mandy’s titles visit www.mandyroth.com .