Charming the Alphas (Hex My Heart, #5)

by Talina Perkins

Fear trickled into her mind. “Then we’ll love you even more if that were possible. But your magick is yours to decide, not theirs.”

  True, she didn’t understand what was happening with the magick but it felt right to have her men there to make sure she would be okay. A magnetic pull skimmed along her heart, stomach and core as Lucian started moving inside her. Braced on Zane’s shoulders, she matched his slow strokes fascinated by the erotic slap of skin against skin.

  Strong fingers pressed into the globes of her ass and spread her cheeks. Cool air licked across her heated nether-hole and over the swollen lips of her pussy. “So beautiful.” She slowed as his thumb stroked along her back entrance and pressed. Still shy about anal play, she brushed her hair to the side and chanced a glance back at him. With a soft smile she melted just a little bit more from the understanding wink he gave her.

  They’d only done it once before and both of them had shown her a gentle side she once thought no man who spent their days knocking heads could show a woman. Did they want to take her again that way?

  “Soon,” he reassured her. “Tonight is all about claiming you.” She whimpered in anticipation. Adrenaline rekindled excitement for the new adventure before them and bliss blanketed over her. Zane craned his head to the side to give her access to his neck. He knew her so well. Fingers buried in her hair, he moaned as she nibbled her away along his neck until she held the lobe of his ear between her teeth. With a little more force than she intended, Marabelle bit into the flesh when Lucian thrust home and she received a deep growl in response.

  “I feel you, baby.” A growl echoed from his throat. Lucian pulled out to stroke back into her with a hard thrust that pushed her closer to the edge. Heat flushed along her skin and she barely managed to hold herself up. “I’ve got you, let go, come for him. Give him those sweet juices. But not all.” Zane gathered her face in the palms of his hands and leaned in close. “After he claims you, I’ll take you and make our family complete.”

  Lucian quickened his sweet torture and Marabelle braced her hands on Zane’s wrists. A cry tore from her throat. Tension gathered, sensations scaled the length of her spine and buried deep until she didn’t know where Lucian began and she ended.

  Firm hands gathered her around the waist and pulled her back. Steel arms anchored her steady. Never breaking rhythm, Lucian ran the tip of his nose along her neck as Zane dipped between her thighs.

  She fisted her hands and arched. Zane wrapped hip lips around her clit and sucked. With the slightest pressure, her world dissolved to only that moment.

  Fingers buried in Zane’s hair, she cried out. “I’m coming.”

  Teeth broke skin. Darkness swelled around her and a hurricane of torrid heat consumed her until Hades seemed like an Alaskan retreat. Through it all she still felt the hot pulses of semen coat her insides. Then she was moving and the darkness fell away until all she saw was Zane’s sweet face. His eyes steady on hers. She combed through the syllables of his words until she could make sense of what he was saying. “Brace yourself, baby. Feel me. Feel us.”

  In a burst of energy, magick kindled to life and flowed along her skin. Not inside, but on the outside. Tears burned her eyes. “Take me, Zane. Now. I need you.” Instinct told her the time had to be now.

  Before she could utter another word, he had her flipped over the couch, her knees pressed in the sofa and her head resting on the arm. In one push he sheathed himself in her sensitive channel and she cried out from the burst of power that filled her body.

  Zane froze.

  “No, don’t stop.” The magick was fighting the bond. She pressed into him.

  “Are you sure?”

  She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a weak smile and nodded.

  As if the goddesses gave their blessing, the heavy clouds that shielded the earth from the moon scattered to reveal silvery swaths of light.

  Drenched in moonlight from the open balcony, the cottony light played over Lucian as he kneeled by her side. He gathered her hair in his fist and angled her head. Lips parted, she raised her gaze to his in anticipation.

  “You’re mine, now and forever.” His lips crashed into hers as Zane pulled out and slammed home.

  Magick spiraled to life around them. Threads wove between their bodies, tying their fates together. Lavender, indigo and fuchsia. So beautiful yet so fragile. She’d lost it once. What if she lost it again? She flicked away the idea. Nothing would break her now. Or ever. Not with her men at her side.

  A familiar tension grew in her womb. Zane pressed his body over hers and reached between her legs. Her heart nearly burst. Stroking, teasing, torturing he worked her into a state of frenzy and she surrendered to the consuming ache between her thighs that she had no idea how to handle on her own. Had no desire to handle, when all her wants and needs in bed were for them to care for now. And she wanted—no, needed them.

  He pistoned forward and she braced herself against the arm of the sofa. With rock solid thighs pressed against the back of her legs, Zane pulled back. Blood rushed through her veins and heightened every nerve ending in her pussy. “More,” she begged, nails biting into the smooth cloth. Zane groaned and drove home, causing a surge of sensations to flood her channel. Her muscles clenched. “Mara, come for me. Come now.”

  For the third time in less than an hour she succumbed. This time the darkness didn’t scare her, but the pain that radiated out from her shoulder overwhelmed all her senses. A scattered array of images flitted behind her closed eyes. Of young wolves becoming men. Of rough times and good times, and her heart swelled to see her alphas in different stages of their lives.

  Then it happened. The blood and the stench. It hit her with a solid left hook. Dead women. Men. Their bodies torn until you could barely recognize the features that made them human. “No. Make it stop.”

  Chocolate cherries, raspberry drops, lemon...

  Desperate, she clawed at the images to erase them. It didn’t help.

  “Mara! Mara! You’re safe. You’re safe.”

  Zane lifted her from where she curled up on the couch and held her close to his chest, his heart as wild as hers. “You’re safe, baby girl.”

  “What was that? What did I see?”

  Lucian peered around her and pegged Zane with a look she recognized as shit just got real. “We need to talk, but you’re not going to like it.”

  She yawned and gave a sweet southern belle smile like the one her sister used on her when she didn’t particularly feel the emotion behind the action. “Touché.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  After several calming breaths Marabelle shoved aside the ugliness to revel in the delicious sense of fulfillment that settled over her. She watched Lucian’s backside as he pulled back from them and disappeared into the bedchamber. “Hold that thought,” he called out to them over his shoulder.

  She shrugged and winced. “The pain will ease after a couple of days, and the bites will eventually fade to light markings.”

  “They don’t bother me. I love carrying your marks.” She turned to look up at Zane.

  “They changed.” Painting the air between them with a wave of her hand, she bounded up and nearly knocked the glass of water he’d poured out of his hand. “Your eyes. They’re magnificent.” She slipped her hands into the length of his hair, letting the strands fan through her fingers out of habit. “So I guess that means no sticky-pawed she-wolf can make a move on my men.”

  “Yours are changing too, baby girl, and possessive much?” he countered in a low, breathy tone that held a hint of smugness. “You have no idea.”

  “Mmm. I like that.”

  Marabelle sat back and took the glass of water he offered. “Your throat’s still bothering you?”

  “A little.” Millions of questions rattled around in her head. She lifted a hand, closed her eyes and let the familiar hum of the ley lines rise beneath the surface. So they were still on Earth.

  “Systems are a go, it seems.” Puzzled, she twisted her hand and watc
hed as indigo threads wound themselves together in a ball. “But why?” She glanced at Zane. “Why now and not when I took the potion?”

  “That is a question I think has something to do with our mating. Honestly, only one lady would know how for sure.”

  Marabelle gasped with surprise. “I can hear you.”

  Zane smiled and nodded. “And Lucian. We’re all connected now. We’ll know every feeling you have and you’ll know ours. But our connection is on a different level than the dragons. What we share is ours alone.”

  “Good cuz that would get weird real quick.”

  Zane chuckled and it reached into her soul and soothed her nerves.

  Lucian rejoined them with a two towels in hand. “And you’ll never be alone again,” he added to their conversation.

  She liked that. She flicked her hand and watched the string of power absorb back into her hand but kept access to her magick simmering just below the surface. Zane pulled her close and she looked into his eyes, now also a blue so light they looked icy. “And the glow worm effect I was rocking faded. Maybe the healer can explain the oddities of that too. So far it seems she’s the one with the answers,” Marabelle said around a yawn.

  “First you need rest. Obsidian will be here soon and then we can get all the answers we need. What we need to discuss can wait too.”

  Marabelle nodded and let her head fall to rest against Zane’s shoulder.

  It seemed she’d just closed her eyes but the duskier skies suggested hours had passed. Sometime between falling asleep in Zane’s arms and now they’d moved her to the bed. Comfortably cocooned between both men, Marabelle peeked out from beneath the covers and watched as silhouettes of dragons dotted the purplish skies beyond her window.

  Careful not to disturb Lucian and Zane, she eased from the bed and made quick work of dressing. Gathering her boots, she made her way out to the fire pit that had cooled to smoldering embers. Damn. That reminded her. Her sisters were probably worried about her. Everything that had gone down last night probably already had the Council convening to see what torturous punishment they’d dish out this time. She’d let them stick it to her once. This time the bastards would have to catch her.

  She eyed Zane’s cell phone. Right. No reception. “Landline it is then.” She stood. Only Ember knew of her plans, but it wouldn’t take long before The Council targeted each of her sisters until they had what they wanted.

  Minutes later she set a quick pace down the hall, passing several doors but not a single soul. Where was everyone? After seeing the mountains and the dragons this morning, she finally figured out that the dragon’s lair was set into the side of a mountain. Did only the warriors live here in such a massive place or did their mates live here too? Guess it didn’t really matter, but her curious mind liked the small details. Meeting a female dragon shifter would be a first of many firsts in the past day.

  The wide, dark passage extended deeper into the mountain lit by sconces throughout the lair. The longer she walked the more she felt she’d stepped back in time. Stone carvings of runes marked enclaves and she immediately recognized them. It was how her father had warded their home against enemies. He’d claimed it had been against those who meant harm to the High Council since he’d been a loyal servant to the Royals as a liaison between the otherworldlies and the warlocks.

  Now she wasn’t so sure it was to protect the High Council so much as it was to protect them from the High Council.

  Wisps of cold air caught her by surprise and pulled her out of her thoughts. She paused by one of the enclaves that held a rune that represented time. She licked her finger and held it up. The breeze came from the cutout in the wall, but why? Carefully she picked up the rune but instead of lifting, the stone piece tilted back, causing a section of the wall to slide to the left.

  “You gotta be kidding! For realz?” Secret dragon lair, secret order within the dragon world and now a secret passage. Her inner librarian nearly fell over with giddy excitement. The source of the wind became apparent immediately. Craning her neck, she peeked into the room before crossing the threshold. Each step carried her back in time by about two hundred years if the furnishings were a good marker of centuries.

  White flimsy curtains fluttered in the cold mountain air that gushed in from the open window the last occupant must have left open. Small lamps dotted the room, the one and only modern touch she could find. As she flicked each one on, the shadows receded to reveal three walls lined with books. Taken aback, all she could do for a solid five minutes was turn in circles. From the ceiling to the floor, every shelf held all kinds of books. Some thick, others thin, all very old.

  If she needed answers, and she did, then this place had to have them. Her gaze scanned over the various spines. Most were in English, but a few were in French and German. And some in Draeonion.

  She continued deeper into the room. Some seemed more recent while others gave hope of being in the time period she needed. A clue she might be on the right path? She hoped.

  Tapping a finger over her mouth, she craned her neck up. Shocked, she froze when a familiar romance author of sweet holiday stories caught her eye. Guess that answered the question of families living here. Well, unless big badass dragon warriors liked sitting down to read a Christmas book or two. She guessed it could happen.

  A flicker of light against something metallic caught her attention and she zeroed in on the title. The High Council’s seal was stamped into emerald green leather beside the Dragon seal she’d seen draped on the wall in her suite.

  What was this doing here? Marabelle pulled the book and cleared an area on one of the emerald settees where more stacks of books covered the rich velvet and any other available space. If anyplace had ever needed a librarian, this hall sat at the top of the list.

  Gently she ran her fingers across long black lines woven together to create an elaborate title that read: “A Tale of War”. There were few books or written accounts of the Witches and Weres war. Admittedly, she only knew what had been passed down through the generations. To find a book would be priceless. Her inner librarian sat up and pushed her glasses into place, ready to devour every single word. Careful not to tear the worn yellow parchment paper, she ran her fingers along the curled edges and fine handwritten words. All of it spoke of being an authentic book and one with the answers she needed. Her gaze lit upon one word in particular. Winters. Or at least an older version of the more modern name. In the old language of the dragons known as Draeonian, sometimes it wasn’t so clear. The language was a mesh of Gaelic with a Latin influence that hinted to their origins. While she could read Latin, their old language veered off so drastically that every other word came across as garbled syllables.

  Her heart sank. It was the same language the healer used.

  From the few lines she deciphered, the story the High Council taught their young already differed from what the book depicted. With her finger tracing across the page she continued on, the sun barely a sliver above the distant ridges.

  Several inked drawings brought the story to life in a wash of black blood, warring dragons in full armor and warlocks with their magick tearing up the battlefield.

  In a flourish of ink beneath one picture she translated the caption. Ordú na laochra DraegonStone. Order of the DraegonStone Warriors. Eight majestic-looking beasts stood with the full warrior armor, all perched atop craggy rocks overlooking a pile of slain warlocks. She shuddered from the mixture of hate and hurt that battled in her.

  On the other side of the field, massive werewolves corralled the enemy with a vicious mauling of the soldiers. Judging by the cloaks and staffs, the defeated were witches. Marabelle turned the page, unable to look away, and found another picture, this one of a warlock casting what looked like a spell over a man shifted partway into his dragon form. The familiar shield of the DraegonStones across his armor denoted him as king of his species.

  This story she knew, or a version of it. Her father had told her stories of how the High Council used bla
ck magick as a way to mind control Dragons as a last effort to take the upper hand in the war and kill off the werewolves for good. The plan had almost worked too.

  It was a low blow to use their own king to slay his people. It must have left families ripped apart, pitted brothers against brothers. She couldn’t imagine the horror her government left in their wake.

  The repercussions a mere slap on the wrist for their actions. The backlash for using black magick left a smear on the High Council’s polished throne for a century. Eventually, her people viewed their actions as an evil necessity. From what she read, time twisted and molded the truth until the Council looked like the witches’ savors willing to do anything to save their people.

  As a young girl she had no choice but to believe it. Now that the curtain had been pulled back, there was more to it than just one species defending themselves against another. She flipped to another page.

  “There ye are.”

  She’d sensed Obsidian approaching. A weird buzz or maybe hum filled her head when a dragon shifter was near. Like a radio tuning into a frequency that didn’t quiet tune in. Eyes locked on a gruesome depiction, she asked in a flat tone, “Is this our past? Or maybe it’s our future?” Was history about to repeat itself because of her?

  Hordes of demons-like creatures swarmed the skies while fire consumed the countryside. Human homes burned alongside otherworldlies as magick flayed dragons and werewolves. The carnage... her heart fell. Slowly she slid the cover shut.

  She’d never realized the extent of the war. History marked it as the High Council coming out the victor. But her father had told her it ended in a truce when the weres killed the queen of the High Elder within her government. Behind closed doors a treaty had been drawn up. Two centuries later the prejudice between their people still divided them and why today it was forbidden for a Royal to marry anyone other than a witch.

  “Tell me about your home. Where do you come from?” Marabelle looked to the DraegonStone standing in the chiseled doorway and fixed her full attention on him. Lavender-rimmed eyes pierced through the shadows.