by Sarra Cannon
The elder woman nodded and waited as she continued.
“My first question is for you.” She addressed the blonde woman. “What’s your name, miss?”
“Lilly, my name is Lilly McNorton, my Queen.” Her fingers were white as she clasped them before her.
“Lilly, do you love Broderick Gardiner?”
The woman’s eyes grew wide. “I don’t know, Your Highness. I’ve never met him before.”
She turned to Monica, who trembled as she fought to keep her eyes from dropping to the ground. “Monica, your question is the same. Do you love Broderick Gardiner?”
Her small sob cut through the noise around them. Her wide eyes shot up to Brody. “Yes, your majesty, I love him.” Her words made Rhia’s heart soar.
“It’s settled, then. Lilly, I thank you for your help, but Monica is my choice.”
Lilly wasted no time in stepping away. Rhia could almost feel the woman releasing the breath she’d been holding.
“Please come onto the platform, Monica.” She wished she could have spent some time reassuring the timid girl, but time was not a luxury allowed during this process.
Instead of coming to stand with Rhia, she stepped over to where Brody stood, her fingers lost in the folds of her simple dress. His eyes shone as he smiled down at the woman. “Do you think you could be happy with a common girl like me instead of a queen, Brody?” Her fingers played with the pleats of her dress.
His bark of laughter surprised everyone. “Happy?” He grabbed her and kissed her hard, oblivious to the hooting and hollering coming from the crowd. Even one of The Elders grinned before he regained his composure.
“Please, Mr. Gardiner, restrain yourself. You are not yet joined.” The elder woman scowled and then tapped Brody’s shoulder when the kiss went on.
“I’m sorry. I got a little carried away.” He didn’t sound sorry. Rhia couldn’t help but snicker.
“Very well, let’s carry on.” She shooed Rhia to the side of the platform to stand with Drake who’d joined her father and brothers. He laced his fingers through hers as the ceremony began once more.
Both Monica and Brody smiled as the ritual words wove their magic around them. Their colors blended harmoniously as the woman weaved her hands before them. When all was done, a beautiful symbol shone on the backs of their joined hands, proving they were true predestined mates. Brody’s smile was contagious. He hooted, drawing laughs from the crowd, before taking his new wife in his arms, sealing their joining with another passionate kiss.
Rhia smiled at Drake who’d remained silent throughout the ceremony. “So, Mr. Sperwell, are you ready? You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
“Changed my mind?” He grinned down at her. “Not in a million years. You look incredible, Rhiannon.”
Monica smiled and hugged her before she lost her nerve, and Brody shook Drake’s hand.
“Thank you, my Queen.” Monica whispered.
“Good luck.” Brody smiled as he took his new mate’s hand and headed down the stairs into the waiting crowd.
The elder woman took the center of the stage once more. “Queen Rhiannon. You have fulfilled the stipulations of the clause. If you have chosen a candidate to attempt a joining, now is the time to proceed.”
“I’m ready.”
“Come forward then, child.” The woman gestured for her to take her place where she’d been standing with Brody. “Please name your intended mate.”
“I name Drake Sperwell of the Dragon lineage, ma’am, as my chosen mate.” Her voice quivered as she spoke the words.
“Please step forward, Mr. Sperwell.”
Joining her, Drake lifted her right hand to his lips for a tender kiss before turning to face the woman.
“I love you, Drake.” Excitement made her entire body tremble. This was it. She was going to marry the man of her dreams.
“I love you, too. More than you could ever imagine, Rhia.”
“Let us begin, one last time. Rhiannon, Queen of Avalore, you have brought this man forth as your choice to be your joined mate.” The Elder woman began the same ritual weave she had performed already twice that day before she turned to Drake.
“Drake Sperwell, you have been brought forth to be joined with this woman. Do you wish to be joined on this day?”
Drake took a deep breath before answering. “Yes, I do. I’m ready to be joined with this woman.”
“Rhiannon, it is evident you wish to complete this joining, but for the sake of, let’s say, tradition, do you wish to be joined with this man?”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “Yes, I do, very much.”
“Very well, child. Good luck to you.” The woman waited a moment before she began weaving her hands before Drake and Rhia once more.
Light of new and light of old,
Bring forth two halves and make them whole.
Soul to soul, and light to light,
Allow the love to burn strong and bright.
Give them knowledge and faith to see
What lies before them is meant to be.
Ancient souls unite to tell who is meant to be joined.
The decision brought down from mother to daughter, and father to son.
For this woman there is only one.
The light cannot lie or mislead what is true
Let us celebrate the joining of the two.
Light of new and light of old,
Join the two and make them whole.
Bring forth your light as it is meant to be.
The two, now one, never shall it be undone.
The Elder spoke in the ancient tongue of their people, reciting the words that would bind them soul to soul. Deep within, her spirit reached out and met his in a brilliant display of light. Drake’s warmth, his very essence flooded her entire being. When the light receded, Drake had already gathered her into his arms, sealing their fates with his kiss.
Clearing her throat once, then twice, the woman sighed as the kiss continued. When they pulled apart, Rhia couldn’t help but smile up into his grinning face.
The woman shook her head, pretending exasperation as she took their hands into hers and lifted them for all to see. Two entwined dragons on her right hand mirrored the same on his left.
The End
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Living in Ontario, Canada, Élianne Adams escapes the cold by snuggling up with a good book. When she’s not delving into a steamy paranormal romance, Élianne can be found spending time with her husband, three kids, two cats and one elderly dog. It wasn’t until her husband encouraged her to follow her dream to become an author that she finally started putting words to paper, and she’s never been happier. Call of the Dragon is book one in the Return to Avalore series. Be sure to keep reading to find out more about this amazing world.
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Pleasured by the Pack
By Anne Marsh
Heat rating: Erotic, ménage
Paranormal Romance
Dre and Landry Breaux do everything together. Fishing, fighting—and loving. A whole lot of loving. When the blue moon leads these Cajun werewolves to their fated mate, however, they’re ready to reform. Now, they’ll fight to keep the woman of their dreams safe from the evils lurking in the Louisiana bayou—and to tempt her into taking a chance on two of the bayou’s sexiest bad boys.
Mary Jane Johnson is no heartbreaker. Running from a troubled past, the bayou captain wants only to be left alone. When she takes a pair of bayou bad boys on board, however, Dre and Landry have her rethinking her need for space. These two big males have promised to take orders—all of her orders. Suddenly, she’s dreaming of getting as close as possible… to both of
the Breaux brothers.
Chapter 1
Music and lights spilled from the oyster bar. A handful of people danced on the dirt square in front, popping beers and downing oysters. It came as no surprise that their quarry wasn’t where the fun was happening. Mary Jane Johnson liked to be left alone.
Too damned bad for her that the Breaux brothers needed her help.
Landry headed around the edge of building, while Dre hung back to wait. His twin was the people-person part of this operation. Hell, his brother actually liked talking. Dre didn’t and never had. Plus, right now, the need to shift was an almost painful itch crawling over his skin, his wolf pushing to get out. Dre had never cared much for being human, and his wolf’s call was too strong tonight.
So fuck it.
Dre stripped off his jeans and T-shirt and melted into the change. Muscles and bones reformed, popping painfully as he shifted until a hundred pounds of grey wolf stood in the pile of denim and cotton. Growling, he fought through the residual burn, opening his eyes to a different world where even the slightest movement drew his attention. Despite the night shadows, his wolf saw as clearly as the man did at high noon.
The night smelled better to the wolf, an intricate tangle of teasing scents that promised excellent hunting. A particularly tempting trail led left around the bar. Honey and peppermint, that soft, feel-good smell both man and wolf wanted more of said Mary Jane was definitely here. Patience. Landry never missed his prey, and he’d bring her down.
Dre imagined following that scent, finding her inside that oyster bar and bringing her back outside. The wolf didn’t want to hurt her, though. No, his wolf’s urge was to pin her, press his canines against the soft skin of her shoulder as he held her down and mounted her. She might not be the blue-moon bride he was searching for, but he wanted. He liked everything about Mary Jane, from her brown eyes that never stopped watching him to the luscious curves she hid beneath her blue jean overalls. He wanted to uncover her and eat her up with one, long, sensual lap of his tongue.
Landry sauntered back around the corner of the bar. He didn’t so much as blink when he saw the wolf. “She’s around back. Jus’ brought in a fresh catch, and the cook’s makin’ his pick now. We don’ have time for you to go all wolf. Change back.” Landry nudged the pile of clothing towards Dre. “Now would be real good.”
Both pretended the shift was something Dre could control, that Dre wasn’t sinking further and further into his wolf and that one night soon the man wouldn’t ever emerge again. As a wolf, he’d live out a wolf’s natural lifespan. He’d den with female wolves and maybe produce a litter of pups that might or might not shapeshift themselves, and that alone was reason to hold on. No pup of his would grow up alone in the bayou, missing a human parent to love and guide him.
Tonight, the shift back was harder than ever. The wolf whined and growled, fighting to keep control. For long minutes, the change stretched Dre’s body, waves of pain pounding his muscles and forcing him to the ground. Christ. Neither man nor beast. Nothing but the pain of not belonging to either. The night darkened around him, shadows collecting over his vision. A rough groan tore from his mouth, but then his fingers were clawing at the dirt, Landry pulling him up as Mary Jane’s delicious scent faded to nothing more than memory.
“She headed back to her boat?” While Dre waited for his brother to answer, he dragged on the faded blue jeans and hauled the T-shirt back over his head. He didn’t need much more than that, and shoes weren’t happening tonight. The feel of the bayou earth beneath his bare feet was good. Right. Always, being wolf was a damned sight easier than returning to the man.
“Seems likely,” Landry drawled and moved out, gesturing for his brother to follow.
Dre fell in behind his brother, content to let Landry lead this time. He’d get his turn soon enough. When they rounded the corner, bingo. Mary Jane was wrapping up her business with the cook, shaking hands and pocketing a slim stack of bills. How she made ends meet harvesting fresh oysters was one of those bayou mysteries Dre had never quite figured out. She looked good, though, and smelled better. Even over here, in the shadows with fifteen feet between them, he caught the honeyed scent of her skin.
Mary Jane had always smelled good.
She wasn’t fussy, either, just went with what worked. Flip-flops and denim overalls over a white tank top that cupped her breasts. Her breasts were a nice handful, although he wasn’t supposed to notice. She’d scraped her brown hair back in a no-nonsense ponytail, exposing the soft, vulnerable curve of her neck. He wanted to draw his teeth against her skin there to test how exquisitely sensitive she was.
He’d bet she’d like that touch, bet that she’d moan a little for him.
Another night, he’d be coaxing her out to that dance floor. He’d enjoy having her pressed up against him, moving to the blue-jazz beat.
Tonight, though, Mary Jane was simply a means to an end.
“She plannin’ to head out again?”
“That was her intention.” The grin lighting up Landry’s face was pure wicked. “Right up until most of her crew took off. Now she’s short two.”
“Perfect. Mechanic’s still onboard?”
“Hasn’t come off.”
The brothers shared a look. Riley Jones, the mechanic, was the real target here.
Not Mary Jane...
They couldn’t have more than one, maybe two nights left before the blue moon disappeared, not to rise again until who knew when. And they needed the blue moon, because those blue rays would lead the Cajun werewolves to the women who were their predestined mates. Follow the light and sometimes a man found redemption and a second chance. Hell, Dre had been skeptical, but when the moon had risen last month, their Pack had found Lark Andrews, a flower farmer from up the bayou. Now that sweet woman was wrapped in the arms of their packmate, Rafer, and there was one less wolf they had to worry about. Rafer was all happily-ever-after with his mate.
And then the next month had rolled around.
There shouldn’t have been another blue moon this close to the last one, but there it was. A second full moon in one month. Dre wasn’t questioning the gift fate had handed them. No way. He’d receive it with open arms, because if those blue rays still lit up the bayou, it could mean only one thing.
Another chance for one of them. He’d squelched the hot start of surprise, the shock of an unexpected chance, and he’d focused everything on tracking. If fate was handing out second chances, he’d seize the opportunity with both hands.
Dre wanted that kind of ending for Landry, and he suspected his brother wanted the same for him. So they both waited until Mary Jane had pocketed her cash and started down the docks. She’d get back on her boat, and they’d make a move.
The bayou town was no hotspot, but a generous handful of folks were already spilling out of the oyster bars to enjoy the night air. There was plenty of music and laughter. Dre and Landry would fit right in, two more fishermen enjoying a little shore leave before heading back out onto the water. They strolled along behind Mary Jane and, sure enough, she never looked back. Simply headed for her boat like someone had lit a fire underneath her fine ass.
Dre needed to stop thinking about palming those lush curves. He wasn’t getting his hands on her, wasn’t going to smooth his hands over her. Under her. Hell, he wasn’t touching her at all.
He needed to find the blue-moon bride, not fantasize about a prickly boat captain, even if she did look like a Christmas present he was itching to unwrap.
“You run off any interested parties?” he asked.
Landry smiled, a slow, impish smile, clearly enjoying the memories. “Yeah, that I did. Our Mary Jane isn’t findin’ herself any crew in this town. Those gals who were available yesterday got themselves some new plans tonight.”
Dre nodded. “So it’s just Mary Jane and Riley on that boat.”
“Uh-huh.” Landry rolled his shoulders and tilted his head back. The blue moon was still lurking up there in sky behind the cloud c
over, a miserly handful of rays escaping.
They hit the docks at the far end of town, Mary Jane disappearing down the end, her flip-flops slap-slapping against the wood planks. They had her now. Dre double-checked, but the moon was still painting a path straight to the Bayou Sweetie, the rays lighting up the dock and the boat like some kind of neon.
Mary Jane’s boat had a god-awful cutesy name that was nothing he would have expected from the no-nonsense, always practical Mary Jane. That name made a man wonder about Mary Jane, as did the inescapable fact that the woman usually only took on all-female crews. No men sailed on the Bayou Sweetie.
He and Landry planned on being the first.
“She’ll go lookin’ tomorrow for more hands,” Landry observed. “No matter who we paid off tonight, Mary Jane jus’ has to sail up the bayou and pick herself a new lot.”
“So we go in tonight,” Dre suggested. “We do our convincin’, and we sail out tomorrow. No worries there. Our honey’s not stayin’ around much longer, not with the tide turnin’ and the oysters waitin’.”
Landry shrugged.
They’d left the Pack for a stretch, giving Rafer and his new mate some space. Lark was settling in real nice now, but they didn’t need to push her too hard, so they’d taken the boat and sailed down the bayou. One night out from home, the moon had risen, and damned if the rays weren’t blue. Rafer had found his mate and apparently instinct had drawn Dre and Landry here. What Dre didn’t like was the stench of vamps hanging around the banks.
As a hunter himself, he recognized another predator easily. The vamps tracked the werewolves because they needed skins. Werewolf skins. Without those pelts, the vamps couldn’t stand any light. Hit a vamp with enough wattage and the vamp started smoking—unless the vamp had wrapped himself up in werewolf skin. A smart hunter—and there was no pretending the vamps weren’t damned clever—would simply bait a trap, sit back, and wait. A blue-moon bride was the perfect bait because no way the Pack would let go of a potential mate. If there was a bride on Mary Jane’s boat, Dre was guarding that craft like it was Fort Fucking Knox.