The door swung open, as it had countless times before, and he watched his torturers walk through. His eyes hardened. If he ever got out of these chains….
“Have you had enough, Maximilian?” The question came from the female, a bitch as beautiful as she was bloodthirsty. She approached him and pushed his head to the side, tracing a gloved finger down his neck.
“Have you?” His voice sounded brittle but firm.
A cool smile touched the female’s lips before she moved away. The male approached him, and Max caught sight of the silver blade between his fingers. Just out of reach, the male stopped and gestured to the female. The last time he’d gotten too close, Max had almost taken his soul. He would have succeeded if the female hadn’t amped up her mental attacks, forcing him to protect his memories and release his hold on the other’s soul.
He prepared himself for an attack from the female, barely wincing when it came, and tried to concentrate on what the male would do. In his weakened state, the male’s power was an overload, and before he could divest enough of his attention to the male, the blade was slicing into him.
Max screamed, his eyes tearing as the silver burned into his neck. He couldn’t last much longer against these two, and if he couldn’t hold them off, he would be completely overpowered by his father.
When they finally left, Max slumped forward. Blood trickled from his new wounds, running down his body in thin, gothic curtains. He made a decision. It was unlikely he would last through another session and he couldn’t betray his friends to his father. If Maximilian could do this to him, it was unimaginable what he would do to Vivienne.
Calling upon the last of his strength, which was not much, he pulled his memories forward. Drew smiled up at him, large brown eyes beckoning him forth. Instead of indulging in their usual childish barbs, he should have told her how he felt, what she meant to him. His biggest regret. Vivienne waved to him. Five years worth of memories surfaced in his mind, and the weight of them was enough to give him a headache.
His lips moved, chanting a spell he’d never used, one most witches refused to learn. Blood beaded his brow and torso as the chanting grew louder. Through it all, Max heard shouting. His voice crested, and light exploded before his eyes.
Max collapsed against the wall, his warlock retreating as his human slumped forward, dead.
***
“I was beginning to wonder when you were going to show up again.”
Cassie hadn’t seen Alexander in days, and had begun to wonder if he’d been a part of her druid. The part that was trying to get her to realize what she was, perhaps.
An easy smile touched his lips but he did not speak. Alexander stood at that water’s edge with his hands clasped behind his back. As usual, he was shirtless, and the wind was blowing his hair back from his face. He wore knee-length cargo pants, revealing muscular legs and perfect feet. If a photographer were around, pictures would be taken.
Cassie took a step forward, and stopped.
“So, let’s say for argument’s sake, that this isn’t a dream,” she began slowly, noticing that his lips curved even more. Of course it wasn’t a dream. If it was, then she’d dreamed her mother had told her that she was a druid, that her similarly druid sister had mated a wolf and had gone to his estate, that she was now staying with her mother at a safe-house, that a psycho witch leader was trying to capture both her and Vivienne….
“Just for argument’s sake. Exactly who and what are you?”
Alexander turned his head to the side to get a better view of her. She felt slightly pleased when his eyes ran down her form more slowly than usual, taking in the V-neck white sleeveless tee, and the little black shorts she’d slipped on for the past days in hopes of returning to his dreamlike paradise. It wasn’t because she wanted him to see her in these clothes—of course not—it was just…warm.
When he next lifted his gaze to hers it was to ask, “You’ve been made aware of your heritage?”
Cassie nodded, blushing a little. Funny that he should know before her. “Yep. Big shocker. This whole druid thing takes a bit of getting used to.”
Another small smile appeared, and he returned his gaze to the water. It was more turbulent than she’d ever seen it despite the sunny day. “I would imagine.”
“So, who are you again?” Cassie prompted.
He shrugged his shoulders in a casual manner. “I am Alexander.”
“Nooo, I thought you were Fabio.” Her sarcasm went over his head because his brows furrowed, his face grew serious, and he asked in the coldest tone she’d ever heard him use, “Who is this Fabio you keep mentioning? Is he your male?”
This time, Cassie’s brows furrowed. My male? What era was this guy from anyway?
“No, he’s not my ‘male.’ He’s a romance cover model. Long, blond hair, huge arms, wears no shirt—it doesn’t matter.” She shook her head to emphasize how little it mattered. “So, what are you? Are you some type of dream creature? ’Cause if you tell me you are, I’ll believe you.” She’d believe just about anything at the moment.
Alexander stared at her for long moments before replying, “What I am is insignificant.”
“Look, you brought me here, right?” She lifted a brow and balanced on a hip until he finally nodded. “The least you could do is tell me what you are.” When he stared blankly at her, she continued. “It’s common courtesy.”
“I thought that fell under the exchanging of names.” He was unfazed.
“Alexander?” she scoffed, barely managing to keep her eyes from rolling all over her head. “There’s more than one Alexander, you know. Alexander the Great. Pope Alexander. Alexander, the acne-prone intern at my job who makes cheap passes at me.”
“Alexander Petraeus. There is only one Alexander Petraeus.” He walked over to her. His gaze held hers and Cassie found herself wondering if he could see properly. His eyes were so very pale. They seemed even paler today. “Here.” His voice stunned her so caught up was she in his eyes.
“What—?”
A book appeared before her eyes. Yes, it appeared. One moment she was staring at his eyes, and the next, the book blocked her view. It looked old, from the dark brown, almost black, hard covers and the leather straps that bound it together. It wasn’t overly large, not as large as the spell book her mother had, but it had volume.
“I don’t understand. Why are you giving me this?”
“Take it with you. Keep it with you. Always. You will need it.” His fingertips grazed her cheek, sending comforting warmth where he touched. And then he was blurring, and she became aware of another voice. Someone was calling her.
“Wait,” she cried out, reaching her free hand to him. “You didn’t tell me what you are.”
When she opened her eyes it was to find her mother standing over her, her hand pressed to her forehead with her eyes closed. Cassie blinked. Where was Alexander? Based on the pastel-colored wall, she was no longer in his domain, but back in the real world. In one of her mother’s safe houses.
“Who didn’t tell you what they are?” Evelyn’s voice was calm, but something about the way she asked the question put Cassie on alert.
“I was having a dream.” She didn’t know why, but instinct told her to keep her visions of the man called Alexander to herself.
For some seconds, Evelyn simply stared at her. Before long, a soft smile broke across her face and she removed her hand. “You seem flustered, ma chère. Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Cassie said quickly, emphasizing how fine she was with a series of rapid nods.
“I know the past days have been hard on you and Vivienne. I wish I could have kept this all—this world—from you, but I couldn’t.” She paused. “I want you to know you can ask or tell me anything, yes?” After Cassie’s nod, Evelyn smiled. “I will be right across the hall.”
As Evelyn left, Cassie shook her head. Only her mother could make her feel guilty for something she didn’t even know about. With a sigh, she jumped from the
bed and began a thorough search of her room. Where was the book Alexander had given her? By the time she was through, all she could do was toss herself onto the covers.
Alexander, the arrogant, handsome dream guy had given her a book, and she actually expected it to be in the realm of the real? A weak chuckle escaped her lips. He’d told her he wasn’t a part of her dream, but what the hell was he? He’d also told her about the druids before she’d found out from her mother. He had to be real, relatively speaking.
As she lay there, thinking about the book and its lack of appearance in her room, she remembered a spell Evelyn had taught her. Well, it was worth a try.
The words left her lips like a smooth breeze and she waited. For the zap. Or the pop. Or something. When nothing happened, she opened her eyes. She’d just done a revelation spell, meant to bring forth whatever was hidden. The ceiling was still there. No book levitated before her eyes. With a laugh, she leapt from the bed and looked to the door. She hadn’t eaten since her whole-wheat bread and peanut butter breakfast, and she was starving.
She’d taken a step to the door when she remembered to tidy the bed. Her mother hated messy beds. Cassie turned, intent on doing a quick haul of the comforter over rumpled sheets, and froze. Her breathing might have stopped, too, because in the next instant a whoosh of breath left her body and she was gasping.
The book lay in the middle of the bed, flipped open. Moving closer, she peered at perfectly scripted writing on the rustic yet pristine page.
“Banishments and Resurrections,” she read aloud.
Since her arrival at the brownstone in Brooklyn, Cassie had taken a keen interest in the spells. For one, she was in seclusion. Evelyn refused to allow her to so much as leave the house without her company. That was the reason Vivienne was upstate and she was in the city: to throw off the evil witch who was trying to capture them. So, when she wasn’t watching television, which she hardly did anyway since television had long since gone to the idiots, she was learning spells. She had a quick memory, and the spells were interesting. She’d read some ridiculous ones, some wicked ones, some funny ones, and now this.
Was this even a spell book? With her finger securing the place, she closed the book, searching for a title. The dark brown cover was clear of inscription, and she flipped open to the first page. What she found there was a name, written in a flowing hand. Alexander. It was either a coincidence or the book resting on her bed belonged to the Alexander of her dreams. Cassie wasn’t one to believe in coincidences.
Getting into a comfortable position, with one arm by the book and the other propped at the side of her head, she flipped back to the page where her finger rested, and began to read.
***
Vivienne’s breath came in shallow, energetic spurts as she sprinted through the cluster of tall trees, moving with the ease and grace of a person familiar with the path. She passed a shallow pond, a fountain with a howling, lone wolf statue atop, and a few pack members lying around. She didn’t stop, just continued on, legs pumping, heart racing as she felt the earth moving beneath her feet. A silver and gray wolf was at her heels, his panting on level with hers as four legs raced two.
Days after her arrival at Cedar Creek almost a week ago, she and Eli had developed the ritual of a morning race. When she’d first arrived, she’d been grateful to see his smiling face among the skeptical and outright angry stares, and from the moment he’d offered to give her a tour when Conall left for a meeting with the Elders, he and Vivienne had been fast friends.
She came to the black iron gates separating the estate from the wilderness behind it just as Eli did. Vivienne prepared to put all her speed into the race back, determined to beat him this time, when an unfamiliar scent made her halt. She felt her bones rattle as they collided with muscle, skin, tendons, and fat. A groan escaped her lips. The trick was to gradually slow down. She would have to remember that when running at the perpetual speed of a bullet. Eli, obviously more trained than she, carefully slowed, before running back to her.
Despite his form, that of a medium sized silver-gray wolf with twinkling blue eyes, she still recognized him. His smile was the same, and most times she could tell what he meant by the gestures he made. From the way he cocked his side to the side and blinked at her, she could tell he was curious to know why she’d stopped.
She opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it shut when the scent grew closer. It smelled malevolent. Angry.
Eli began to growl. His ears moved back, lying flat against his head, as teeth pulled away from his lips. Gone was playful Eli. She prepared herself, mentally throwing up shields even as her heart began to pound. What was it?
Conall had gone into the city for a business meeting. He’d refused to leave during her first days at Cedar Creek but when no trackers had shown up, he’d grown less restrictive. She could actually leave the house without having him follow her, or run with Eli without sensing the black wolf trailing at the edges of the trees.
The more time she spent with the alpha, the more Vivienne liked him. She’d never known anyone quite like him. He was fiercely protective, and it was obvious his pack respected him. It was no wonder he was their leader. When he’d first introduced her to them, he’d introduced her as his mate, had glared steadily, and bitten off the sentences, as if daring someone to squeak a word of protest. Although he was a brusque and downright scary alpha, the man was caring and thoughtful, and at nights when he took her, she felt his control, knew he held back for fear of hurting her, and wanted him even more.
Eli’s teeth snapped together as he pivoted to face ahead and growled once more.
“What is it?” she half-whispered, fearing that Cronin had found her. Of all days, he’d picked the one where Conall was not there. Convenient for him, downright terrifying for her.
What’s wrong, alainn? Conall’s voice was urgent, but her eyes were busy scanning the area. She felt him in her mind, and knew he would understand.
Eli rushed forward, halting before a thatch of shrubs. He barked, retreating a few steps, only to rush forward again and snarl. To Vivienne’s surprise, a large, red wolf leaped from behind them, growling at Eli, even as he snapped back at it. Three more wolves emerged, forming a semi-circle behind the red wolf.
The red wolf suddenly lifted its head and snarled at Vivienne, who took in the gleaming white teeth and powerful build of thing, and thanked God her mother had taught her those spells.
Eli moved in front of her once more, and this time, he crouched low and waited. A warning growl emerged and then he was advancing. The red wolf stepped back, snapped its teeth together, and shook its massive head. Moments later, there was a bright flash, and Vivienne blinked. When the light cleared, Samia stood there, gloriously naked.
“You,” Vivienne whispered, hastily lifting her gaze from the woman’s body to her angry face.
“It speaks,” Samia muttered in disgust, glaring down at Eli. “Step aside, whelp!” When Eli only growled, she turned her gaze to Vivienne, and raked her with a thorough glare. Vivienne returned it steadily. Samia had been trying to intimidate her from the moment she’d entered Cedar Creek. From the bumps when they met outside, to the long stares, to the flashing of razor-sharp, elongated teeth, Samia was like a child sulking because she hadn’t gotten the toy she wanted.
“You have a pretty mouth.” She circled Vivienne slowly, and Eli followed her, keeping his eyes on the redhead. Vivienne waited for Samia to make the first move. “Your body is boyish and unappealing, your face barely pleasant to look upon, but your mouth might come in handy.” She laughed softly and turned back to the three lurking wolves. “What do you think? Shall I make her my new bitch?”
Heads wagged in agreement and Samia smiled, tossing her hair.
“I agree. I think I’ll make you my new bitch.” When Vivienne lifted a brow, Samia raised auburn-colored brows and said flippantly, “Just because you’re supposed to mate the alpha, doesn’t mean you automatically become alpha bitch.” She leaned in, until her br
eath fanned Vivienne’s face. Even the woman’s breath smelled good, like peppermints. It only made Vivienne angrier, but she managed to hold her temper.
Eli, on the other hand, seemed ready to take a chunk out of Samia’s pretty leg, so she reached down and stroked his head, willing him to be calm.
“You can be my pet, serving my every whim, my every fantasy.” Her eyes lowered to Vivienne’s lips, and she licked hers. “Oh yes, I fully intend to make you my bitch.”
With a bored sigh, Vivienne shook her head. “Considering our anatomies, I would have to say, in all fairness, that you would better suit the position of bitch than I.”
A snicker sounded from somewhere behind Samia and the redhead turned with a furious glare. Whichever of her cheer squad had emitted it was silenced.
Eli’s tongue popped from his mouth and lagged, a sure sign that he was laughing. In another instant, a bright flash exploded and he stood beside her as naked as Samia.
“You weak bitch,” Samia raged, moving forward with a speed that Vivienne hadn’t anticipated, but Eli had. Her arm was already raised, her claws unsheathed, when he grabbed her arm.
“Touch her and you’ll answer to Conall.”
Samia’s eyes widened briefly before she shoved a smiling Eli away. He bumped into Vivienne, and she held them both upright.
“I will have my blood rite and when I do—”
Vivienne laughed, stopping Samia midsentence.
“First, someone will have to explain to me exactly what a blood rite is. Sounds outlandish to me, but then again, that was what you were going for, wasn’t it, Samia?”
Samia took another step forward, but stopped. She smiled wolfishly. “I’ll tell you what it is. It’s me on top of you, ripping your skinny throat out.”
“Why, Samia,” Vivienne began, shaking her head as if chastising a child. “I am going to mate your alpha. So please, any thoughts that you have about my lips, or being on top of me, you really should try to forget. You’re a pretty girl, but I don’t play for that team. Sorry.”
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