Charming the Alphas (Hex My Heart, #5)

by Talina Perkins

  Jake, Sweet Briar’s pack alpha, called in help from their alpha and that’s where they came in. In the end, seven shifters in as many days had died alongside three human women before they’d caught the feral shifter responsible for the killings. Deep in blood lust they discovered markings on his body that suggested a warlock or witch had tortured him, but their alphas counseled against sharing the details to keep the peace. Now he didn’t know what the hell was going on, but if Marabelle got pulled into this, a fucking force of dragons and shifters wouldn’t hold him or Zane back from seeking vengeance.

  Blood lust did not happen overnight. If they were dealing with that again, once came off as a coincidence, twice was a wake-up call.

  When a shifter consumed too much blood, their system did one of two things. It either boosted the human instincts and calmed the beast with logical thinking, which separated shifters from wild wolves. This kept them from hunting humans as savage animals.

  The other, they turned feral and killed everything in sight, desperate for more blood before their latest kill had time to cool.

  Now they had a whole new angle to consider. Mind-bending. If history repeated itself, there would be more than just otherworldlies caught in the crossfire. Humans were targets now too. Since coming out three decades ago, no one would be safe if the High Council reopened an old wound.

  Lucian took a hard left and hit gravel. Tires slung snow and pebble-packed bombs as he made record time up the long drive that led to Marabelle’s cabin.

  “We check her cabin first, then make a plan from there. Agreed?”

  Before the truck came to a full stop, Zane had the door open. Guess that meant yes.

  Bone cracked, skin shifted to fur as his best friend freed his beast, forcing his own wolf close to the surface. Power surged and his muscles grew strained, but he forced his wolf back in case Marabelle needed him. His wolf growled, clawed at him to run and seek out the enemy; tear them apart until blood paid the debt owed their mate.

  Lucian clenched his teeth and fisted his hands to ground himself. With a better grip on his control, he turned to Zane’s wolf. “He followed her here. I’ll go to her. You take the perimeter.” Already in motion, he tracked the white fur of Zane’s wolf as he disappeared into the dense woods surrounding Marabelle’s place. “Good hunting, friend.”

  A small pool of light spilled through the thin curtains to cast a glow over the entrance. He pushed through the snow and in a few steps shoved the door all the way open. Standing in the middle of the room, his heart stopped. Marabelle withered on the floor as her body convulsed from an invisible force that ate at her.

  In two steps he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Marabelle.

  “Please don’t let this be happening.” The twisted bastard had already been here. Marabelle’s convulsions calmed and Lucian stretched her limp body out on the floor, covering her with the small throw blanket from the nearby couch. At least she still drew air. But why? How? Something didn’t add up.

  “What happened?” Zane rushed in, pulling on his jeans, and hobbled over as he slipped on one unlaced boot followed by the other. Freezing winter air clung to him along with something else. He turned to Zane for confirmation.

  Anger darkened his expression. “He was here, but the fresh snow is making quick work of diluting his trail. Gotta go now while I can still pick up his scent.” Before he could finish his words, Zane looked down and froze.

  In the dim light from the tableside lamp, Zane fell to his knees beside them and reached across Lucian. “Her heartbeat is faint and her breathing is shallow, but she’s alive. Did he do this?”

  Lucian shook his head. “Anything he touches dies. So I don’t think so. She’s done something, or taken something from the looks of it. Could be his work, but not his MO.” With swift movements, Lucian ran his hands along her neck and inspected her body for any external injuries hidden from sight just to be sure.

  Zane grabbed her hand and moved to lift her body. “There’s old magick at play here. It grates on the senses and this level of power is way outta our league. There’s no one that can help her besides her sisters. We have to move now.”

  Lucian agreed. At first, she looked so calm, peaceful. If he hadn’t witnessed the horror, he’d say she was in a deep sleep.

  In all his years as an enforcer, he’d never dealt with witches magick. Shifters possessed a different kind of power. Their source of magick tied into the moon and not the ley lines as a witches’ did.

  Lucian lifted her body as he stood. “Fuck. Marabelle. What have you done?”

  A flash of light caught his attention seconds before glass tumbled out of Marabelle’s fingers to clank against the hardwood.

  Zane plucked it up and sniffed the contents when his gaze landed on the huge book in the center of the table with remnants of herbs and a few small bags tossed aside. With his thumb, he scraped the porous bottom of the grinding bowl. A tang of copper hit him first and overshadowed all other ingredients.

  “You know what this means, right?” Zane had a knack for putting a voice to his thoughts.

  Before he could answer, thunder rolled over the cabin and the vibrations reached into his body and brought his attention around to the front. Floorboards quaked and various items rattled along the fire mantel and tables. Lucian’s head reared up and his eyes flashed with ire on the cusp of a bestial growl as heavy footfalls grew closer. Silence filled the room seconds before two silhouettes broke from the shadows.

  His lips peeled back in warning. Dragons.

  “We have guests.” Lucian bit out the obvious between clenched teeth. “And that explains the blood.” He gave a nod toward the bowl and tucked Marabelle between them, his fingers brushing against her neck.

  Fear struck dead center.

  “Zane, she’s not breathing.” Lucian fell to his knees and spread her flat on her back.

  One rip and he had her thick sweater split open and smooth skin exposed. Hands poised over her heart, Lucian leaned over and called on his wolf. White energy flowed from his hands and fed into Marabelle.

  “It won’t be enough, Luc, We’re not mated.” Even as he spoke he placed his hand on Zane’s, hoping as much as he did that whatever they could offer Marabelle would be enough.

  “We have to try. Check her pulse.”

  Zane pressed two fingers against her aorta. “Faint.”

  She couldn’t die. They couldn’t fail her. “C’mon, that’s it, breathe, Mara, breathe, baby girl.” Lucian stole glances toward the door. Night clung to the strangers’ faces, standing watch from the dark, hiding their identity well. He didn’t need to see them to know the stench of dragon shifters. Charred cinder mixed with pine of the forest surrounding them, he guessed, and if fresh air could be labeled as a scent, it clung to them too. It filled his nostrils a split second before bone cracked and the white fur flashed by as Zane bounded in front of him to protect Marabelle.

  The second dragon shifter, broader than the first with long black hair, pushed forward, dodging Zane’s elongated teeth in a warning snap as he drew too close to Marabelle. Lizard boy halted, swiftly crossing his right arm over his chest before bowing his head and taking a left knee.

  Not a right knee that signaled surrender during battle. Either was a potentially lethal move with an alpha in protection mode and a sign he hadn’t seen in decades.

  “Calm, yerself wolf, we mean nae harm to yer mate or ye, but we must move quickly.” Amethyst-rimmed eyes flashed his way with warning but darted to Marabelle and bounced between the mortar bowl and the remnants of her potion work.

  Zane’s deep growl shifted into a moan. “Can’t say you have good timing, dragon. Why do you require our assistance?”

  Both Lucian and Zane recognized the plea for help from a fellow otherworldly. Not many understood the ancient signs and that gave him pause. Only the Elders knew of the antiquated practices and it was normally only passed down to warriors like himself and Zane within pack life. For the dragons, it woul
d be within the DraegonStone Order. That meant...

  In an eerily calm voice, the first of the dragons who stood closest spoke up. “It is yer mate we seek. Where is the vial? Show us how much blood she drank so we c’n help.” Violent waves of energy raked through Marabelle at that moment, and Lucian pushed thoughts of ancient warriors to the side.

  On some level he was relieved for any kind of reaction from Marabelle. It meant she still lived, which meant they had a chance.

  “Nae. It’s the other way around. Now move aside, wolf.”

  Lucian Growled in warning as the dragon moved a step closer.

  “Please. I can help.”

  Ice wrapped around his heart and for a split second all he could think about was their last kiss. Her sweet taste on his lips, the way she curled into their bodies as they worshipped her luscious curves. How her feminine scent consumed his senses. Living without her beautiful brown eyes and sweet smile would kill them both.

  “Hurry.” Lucian gave a curt nod. They were out of time. Either they let them help or Marabelle would die. His heightened hearing noted her faint heartbeat that grew weaker with every pump. He locked gazes with Zane. They pulled back a step in unison, then two, but both stayed close enough just in case.

  The dragon shifter pushed forward and knelt beside Marabelle. Lizard boy slung off his leather trench coat and shoved up his sleeve to reveal another sleeve of inked runes that wrapped around his forearm and disappeared beneath his shirt. With one hand poised above her chest in the same location as they’d had theirs, blue fire traveled the length of his shoulder, down the crook of his elbow and fed directly into Marabelle’s heart. Each rune fired up as they inked out magick to save his mate’s life.

  Words fell from the dragon’s lips in a long-forgotten tongue older than Lucian could date.

  In a more forced voice he added, “My name is Obsidian of the DraegonStones.” He meant ancient dragon from a twice as ancient order known as the DraegonStone Warriors. The tats, the sword and epic level of juju younger generations didn’t possess explained a lot. As did the accent—Scottish from the brogue that clung to his words. What none of that explained was their presence in Sweet Briar. Nor why their witch pinged on an antiquated order’s radar?

  Zane visibly tensed beside him. “You’re rumored to be extinct. Among other things.”

  “Aye, among other things.” A small smile lifted the right side of his mouth a second before all signs of their exchange erased from his face. All his attention focused on Marabelle.

  “C’mon. Hold her down.” Man of little words.

  Lucian stepped closer with Zane taking his place beside Marabelle’s feet. Zane tightened his grip on Marabelle’s ankles as Lucian locked her shoulders against the hardwood as wave after wave of raw energy fed into her from Obsidian, causing her body to buck. Instinct raged inside him to throw the dragon shifter off his mate, but he held steady. Barely—and only for her.

  Didn’t mean he had to like it. He snarled. “What are you doing?” Before he could demand an answer, a fire started in the center of Marabelle’s chest and grew from there. But there were no live flames, only energy. Gold fused with sapphire until every cell of her body lit with an ethereal blanket of light.

  Obsidian yanked his hand back, breaking the connection. “Och. Not sure if that will be enough.” A puzzled look crossed his face. “I thought wolves claimed their mates?” He made a sound deep in his throat that sounded like tearing papers, but was distinctly Scottish.

  Call him old-fashioned, but he didn’t see the need to explain their decision to complete strangers. Instead of saying that out loud, he pegged the dragon man with a look that conveyed his message.

  “Aye. If that’s how ye’ve been playin’.” Shaking his head with obvious confusion, Obsidian rocked back on his shit-kickers until he was eye level with him and Zane. “Because ye havenae I don’t know if she’ll survive drinking our blood.”

  So that was what she’d done.

  He asked as much, needing to hear it from someone who knew what the hell was going on. “What usually happens when your blood is used in magick?”

  “I dunnae. All depends on the spell. From the power I sense and the age of that spell, I’m goin’ to say yer witch lost something and wanted it back bad enough to perform some shady magick.” Obsidian gave a curt nod toward the book on the table. “That spell book holds more than a few cures, if ye know what I mean.”

  He did to an extent.

  That wasn’t the whole story, but the person he needed to ask needed him to focus on stabilizing her before he could interrogate her. Marabelle’s skin burned blazing hot beneath his touch. Lucian and Zane jerked their hands back. “How is she still breathing?” No way she’d survive much longer. He didn’t see how she still lived now.

  “She wonnae be fer long. I... This has never happened. Nae that I’ve seen. If she goes any longer without yer mark even if ye cannae fully claim her...” Obsidian rolled his shoulders in a shrug and cocked a brow at them as if they should know this shit already. Truth be told, it fucking ate him alive that he didn’t. “It’s the only way to balance the forces that war inside her. For now. Even that isn’t a promise, but I do know she needs our healer. She’s versed in the ancient magick and fer Marabelle’s sake, luck would have it she has two of ye to draw on to help her survive the time it takes to get to the healer.” The second dragon who had stayed quiet up until now stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of a blade similar to Obsidian’s that hung to mid-thigh tucked beneath a long coat. His wolf scented the ancient power that mirrored Obsidian’s. Brothers?

  “Aye. Mark her and tame some of the energy warrin’ in her. We need to pony up and get the fuck outta here. Trust us or let her die. Choice is yer own.” Please didn’t seem to be a favorable word in their vocabulary, but Lucian appreciated the direct approach more anyway. Something in him believed the dragon meant well. Otherwise, both of them would already be staining Mara’s wood floors with their blood.

  Lucian moved quickly. With Marabelle’s limp body pinned between them for support, he took one side as Zane took the other. The world shifted to the monotone shades of gray, and together they sank their fangs as gently as possible into flesh. Mashed-up images bombarded him. Some of Marabelle, others of Zane. Then there was so much pain. He could hardly draw a breath the wall pressing into him.

  Thousands of razors slit across his flesh. Warm blood spilled over skin, rushed behind his eyes, as an iron fist squeezed the life from his heart.

  “Her pulse, Luc. Her pulse—it’s gone.” Zane shoved at his shoulder, drawing him back to the surface.

  His eyes shot to Marabelle as chimes rang in the background. On the last stroke of midnight, Marabelle’s heart stopped and she lay dead in their arms.

  They had failed her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Two hours earlier.

  Marabelle Winters glanced at her watch. At ten o’clock on a Friday night she’d officially become a full-fledged criminal. “For realz, lady, you need a brain scan.” She muttered more to herself than the crazy warlock on her ass.

  “Come ou’ ya lit’le bitch, I c’n smell ya and I c’n smell ’em, too.”

  Smell who, too? Only thing she smelled was wet dog.

  A gargled, scratchy voice ping-ponged off the high walls and echoed over the entire open-style library.

  She switched her phone into silent mode and shoved it into the back of her jeans.

  Who the hell talked like that? Every warlock she knew walked around with a golden horseshoe shoved up their asses and had the pedigree to back it up. Hell, the entire Council suffered from a plight of wealth and prestige. It came with the territory of blackmail and deception. And war, she mentally added. War always brought wealth for the winning side and the last one to occur left the High Council with a fat horde every otherworldly Royal house turned green over. Except werewolf and dragon shifters. If the stories her father told her as a child were anything to go on, the shifters wanted blood for
blood.

  Several voices clicked over in her mind, but she couldn’t place the broken enunciations from the list of people she knew within the High Council. Whoever was on her tail packed one helluva punch with their spellwork.

  She hugged the wall for any kind of protection between her and the crazed warlock and told herself not to overreact. She strained her ears for approaching footfalls to pinpoint his location, but found only silence. Maybe she’d managed to ditch him? Peering around the corner, a bright burst of light caught her shoulder, and she ducked around the corner.

  Whew. Marabelle blew out a couple of breaths. That almost took my damn eyelashes!

  A few milliseconds slower and it would have probably taken more than just hair.

  Another ball of flaming magick barreled toward her and slammed into the tall pine bookshelf, which knocked her backward into another shelf with large tomes and countless smaller parchments. Book after book crashed to the floor with a loud thud. Way to reveal your location, Mara! Shit, she was so screwed. Did anyone know how to write in shorthand? These big ass books were going to be the death of her.

  On one hand, the spell thrown at her provided enough light to see where her next move would lead her. The only problem was the little ball of light happened to be a very displeased orb of magick, hocked up with enough juice to power a small town and had a very ticked-off warlock behind the wheel with a bone to pick. So maybe, hijacking a couple of books from the High Council’s vault was a big no-no after all. By now, she supposed an apology and a smile wouldn’t help her cause any. Hitting her pursuer’s teammate over the head with a brass divider didn’t exactly say hello in the right tone.

  She dived to the side, barely missing the massive thousand-page tome that landed with a thud on the marble flooring in the spot she’d vacated only a second before. It took her twice as long to realize it missed and she hadn’t turned ghost.

  Black and ivory tentacle-looking fumes of magick burst three feet from the center of the book before taking a nosedive, effectively slamming the pages closed. Eyes wide, she stared at the book. “That’s new.” She’d seen magick do a lot of things, but whipping out of a book was up there with aliens and ET. She edged closer for a peek at the title.