The Journal Keeper
Kidnapped by a pair of crazy men claiming to be her mates, Rianne Winthrop agrees to travel with them back to their homeland. At least until she can call the local psych ward to come pick them up. When she realizes they’ve also stolen the book that was to be her big break, she knows she can’t leave until she finishes the translation. Only then will the literary community truly accept her.
At the urging of Merlin’s sister, Nikolas Krystoph and Dorin Ferghas travel to the human realm to retake the wizard’s journal and end up finding their mate. Though she believes them to be insane, the only insanity they suffer from is Rianne’s constant rejection. Even as they take her back to their homeland, Rianne resists making any commitment. But when one of their own begins to threaten her life, they will stop at nothing to keep her, and the journal, safe.
Genre: Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Shape-shifter
Length: 84,658 words
THE JOURNAL KEEPER
Leerene Evans
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
THE JOURNAL KEEPER
Copyright © 2012 by Leerene Evans
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62241-060-6
First E-book Publication: August 2012
Cover design by Christine Kirchoff
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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DEDICATION
For Amy, Katherine, and Danielle, three amazing ladies who have been there for me every step of this process. The three of you have been with me from start to finish. I couldn’t have done this without you.
THE JOURNAL KEEPER
LEERENE EVANS
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
His muscles twitched spastically as sweat dripped down his body. White-blond hair had come loose from the thong that kept it back, brushing across his jaw with each movement. His breath came in gasps, visible in the below-freezing air. Every inhale sent needles through his chest, every exhale easing the sharp pain. The snow that fell around him went unnoticed as he lunged for the man across from him.
With a yell, Nikolas Krystoph attacked, turning the snow red beneath him as he fought against the newest addition to his regiment, Gaibe. The lad was smaller than him, as most of his men were, barely coming up to his chest, but the wolf was fast.
As the two dueled, it became clear this was a match of strength versus speed. Nikolas stood taller and wider than most within the castle walls, thanks to his mother. Polar bears were the largest shifters in the northern kingdoms, making them one of the most feared clans in Laurasia. At six foot seven inches and weighing nearly three hundred pounds, all of it muscle, Nikolas towered over all other members of the Royal Guard and most of the members of the Royal Court. There were two other polars who worked as advisers to the king and queen, but Nikolas was the only one on the Guard, something that would likely never change. No normal polar bear would ever step foot in the wolves’ territory, let alone work for their leaders. The two polars on the Royal Court had mated with wolves, thereby becoming banished from their bear community. The polars were one of the few shifter clans who still held on to the old ways of keeping the bloodline pure. Those who found mates outside of the polar community were banished for life. If they fought the sentence, they and their mate were killed.
Nikolas was assigned protection of Prince Dorin Ferghas of the Wolf Clan and had been since the polar came of age. His regiment was the fiercest in the Guard because Nikolas would accept nothing less as his men worked on guarding the entire royal family.
“Give up, whelp,” Nikolas snarled as he circled the man in front of him.
“Not a chance,” Gaibe sneered, his golden eyes flashing.
Nikolas swung at him, but Gaibe leapt out of the way just in time, avoiding Nikolas’s large paws, his hands shifting while the rest of his body remained human. The polar’s ice-blue eyes flashed dangerously as he growled at his opponent, frustrated that the boy remained in his human form. Gaibe simply grinned wolfishly before darting out in an attempt to startle his sparring partner. Quick as lightning, Nikolas grabbed the pup by the throat, easily lifting him off the ground.
“What have I told you? Never go for the obvious attack,” Nikolas growled in the wolf’s face.
Frustrated, Nikolas cast the wolf aside, ignoring the yelp as he landed a few yards away, no doubt breaking something in the process. Nikolas turned away, glaring at the rest of his men lined up along the sparring field.
“Any more takers?”
“Not today, Krystoph,” a man said, walking out onto the field.
Everyone around dropped to their knees, heads bowed as Prince Dorin strode up to Nikolas. The Prince of the Wolves was nearly half a foot shorter than his polar guard and half his size. While regular runs with the pack and daily fighting exercises kept the prince in shape, his body was not as muscular as the other man. Where Nikolas was fair, Dorin was dark. His brown hair, cut closer to his head, was darker than chocolate, his eyes like soft caramel. Every step he took spoke of power and control as if
he stalked his prey.
“Arise, all,” Dorin insisted, coming to stand in front of Nikolas.
“Your Highness has need of me?” Nikolas questioned, rising slowly.
“Not just I. Morna has just arrived and wishes to speak to both of us,” Dorin told him.
“The witch? What need has she of me?” Nikolas frowned.
“Come see for yourself. She was quite insistent that you be present for her reading,” Dorin explained.
“Dismissed,” Nikolas shouted to his men before following the prince back to the castle.
“You have been avoiding me again, Nikolas,” Dorin murmured as they walked through the castle doors.
“Nay, Highness. I have simply been busy training your guard,” Nikolas denied.
“Lie to yourself, but not to me. I know you too well for that.” Dorin glared.
“It is…improper,” Nikolas mumbled gruffly.
“Why? Because you are not wolf?” Dorin frowned.
“Nay, because I am not royal.”
Reaching out, Dorin grabbed hold of Nikolas’s collar and pulled him into a nearby alcove, hiding them from sight. Once safely behind the tapestry, Dorin pulled Nikolas down to his slightly shorter frame.
“Listen to me, Nikolas, for I will only say this once. I chose you because you are my friend and I care for you. I do not wish to see you fade away without a mate. You know as well as I that the polars will not allow you to return to your homeland to mate with one of their females,” Dorin growled, glaring at his oldest friend.
“I’m not worthy to share your mate. The people will reject us all if I am involved,” Nikolas stated.
“Ridiculous. That is your polar mentality speaking. My people will accept both you and our mate because it is often our way. The people will only find issue in the fact that you are a polar shifter, but even that fear is unfounded because you have already proven yourself time and again in battle. The people respect and admire you, Nikolas. Why can’t you see that?” Dorin hissed angrily.
Nikolas looked down at the man who had stood beside him for as long as he could remember. Ever since he came to the wolf clan, Dorin and he had kept close to each other, drawn by a bond neither had fully understood. While Nikolas struggled with his banishment from his home clan, Dorin had kept the larger shifter from completely giving up hope. Dorin had promised Nikolas as children that they would always be friends, always be together. At the time, he never would have guessed his friend would later insist on sharing a mate.
“I don’t see why this is an issue since neither of us has felt the pull for any of the females your mother parades in front of us. Why must we argue over something that has not yet come to pass?” Nikolas asked, seeking to end their disagreement.
Dorin stared up at Nikolas, his eyes narrowed in a mix of suspicion and annoyance. Eventually the wolf turned away.
“We need to be going. Morna should not be kept waiting,” Dorin insisted, leaving the alcove first.
Nikolas sighed heavily, knowing Dorin was angry with him, but entirely unclear how to fix it. With no other option, he followed his friend from the alcove.
* * * *
The king and queen were seated in their usual places upon the dais when Dorin and Nikolas walked into the throne room. Their private guards lined the walls, with one on either side of the thrones. King Silal was still an impressive man, despite his increased age. His once black hair was now gray, and wrinkles lined his face from years of running his clan. The body that had once fought through countless battles had lost most of its muscles, but when he stood tall, all eyes moved to him. His queen was just as impressive, still beautiful after all this time. Visess’s blond hair was slowly turning white, and blue eyes edged by laugh lines lit up every time her husband walked into the room. The king and queen had ruled for nearly seven thousand years together, and they knew the time was coming for them to step down.
But first, Dorin and Nikolas had to find their third.
Dorin hoped that was why Morna had asked to speak with the both of them. The witch was one of the oldest creatures in Laurasia and Gondwanaland combined. Tall and willow-like, she had indistinct purple eyes that seemed to see everything and nothing at the same time. Her white hair curled out of control around her face and down her arms, giving her a decidedly wild look. Still, she was a woman who demanded respect.
“Dorin. Nikolas.” Morna cried, coming forward to hug them both.
Dorin leaned down to place a kiss on her weathered cheek and tried to hide his grin when Nikolas uncomfortably patted her back.
“I have wonderful news.” Morna beamed, stepping back.
“What news, Morna?” Dorin asked.
“I have located Merlin’s journal.”
Silence greeted her claim while she stood there, smiling brilliantly.
“Merlin’s journal? You’ve located Merlin’s journal?” Silal questioned doubtfully.
“Yes. And you’ll never guess where,” Morna sang, sounding extremely childlike despite her advanced age.
“Where?” Dorin asked.
“America.”
“America? As in the human realm?” Dorin frowned.
“Yes. Though more specifically, it’s located in the United States of America. Can you believe they won their independence from Britain? Last I heard they were just a bunch of colonies. We really should send scouts across the portals more often.”
“You know why we cannot, Morna,” Silal groaned, rubbing his hand over his face.
“Oh, I know. We spend too much time in the mortal world and we begin to die. Awful stuff, dying,” Morna shuddered.
“How are we supposed to get the journal if all our scouts are still recovering from their last trip?” Visess asked.
“The prince will go, of course,” Morna answered gaily.
Nikolas growled from beside Dorin, moving to put himself between the wolf and the witch.
“Oh, do stop growling, Nikolas. He’ll be fine. I’ve seen it,” Morna waved him off.
“You can’t expect us to send our only son and heir to the throne into the mortal world. He’s never traveled the portals,” Silal shouted, rising to his feet in anger.
“Really, Your Majesty, there is no need to shout. Besides, how else do you expect him to find his mate?” Morna tsked.
“Darling,” Visess murmured, placing a hand on her mate’s arm.
The king resumed his seat, taking his wife’s hand in his.
“I will accompany the prince in his quest for his mate and the journal,” Nikolas said, stepping forward.
“Our mate,” Dorin snapped, gripping the polar’s arm.
“That is still to be decided,” Nikolas said, shrugging Dorin’s hand off.
“Oh, no. The two of you will share a mate. The bond is already formed. To break it now could be disastrous for all involved. Your mate will need protection that only the two of you can provide, especially since she is currently in possession of the journal,” Morna told them gaily.
“Our third is in the human realm?” Dorin asked.
“Yes. Now, you must find your mate and the journal before they manage to crack Merlin’s language or all the Hunters in the realm will be able to find us,” Morna warned.
“We’ll leave tonight,” Nikolas decided, sounding every inch the fearsome warrior he was.
As Dorin and Nikolas left the throne room to prepare for the journey to the human realm, Dorin couldn’t fight his anticipation of finally meeting the one woman meant for the two of them.
* * * *
Locking the door behind her, Rianne sighed in relief at finally being able to go home after working three days straight. Her neck and shoulders ached from spending hours poring over countless texts, searching for just the right combination.
“Heading out, Dr. Winthrop?” Cull asked from his office as she passed by.
Dr. William Cull was the leading researcher in their latest project and the founder of Cull Industries. He taught linguistics and ancient history at mu
ltiple high-profile schools, going wherever the research led him. He was fit for his fifty-six years of age, their line of work often requiring weeks spent in remote locations with little luxuries. His brown hair was just starting to show signs of gray around his temples and his brown eyes squinted behind his signature glasses, which sat perched upon a straight nose. Overall, he was an average-looking man with a kind smile and welcoming laugh.
“All right, Winthrop?” Cull asked, looking up from the paperwork on his desk.
“Yes, sir. I just locked up the preservation room. Do you need me tomorrow?” Rianne asked, leaning against the doorjamb.
“No, I think we’ll manage. You need some sleep and the newbies need some experience,” Cull smiled wryly.
“Just don’t let them touch that new text,” Rianne teased.
“That one is all yours, as I promised,” Cull agreed absently, already returning to his paperwork.
“I’ll see you Thursday, then,” Rianne said, backing from the room.
“Get some sleep, Rianne,” Cull called as she walked away.
“Will do,” Rianne answered, elbowing her way into the staircase.
She passed some of the newbies, Dr. Cull’s student researchers, on their way up to begin their day. One of them, Missy, flashed Rianne a smile as she bounced past, her ponytail swinging behind her. She was one of Rianne’s favorites, being the only one who was willing to stay late and get her work done instead of going to various parties at the closest frat house.
Arriving at her car, she tossed her bag into the backseat. It was full of notes taken over the past three days and she wanted a chance to look over them before returning to work. The old Chevy had served her well all through college and graduate school, as she went for her masters and then her doctorate. At twenty-eight, she was only a year out of school, but Dr. Cull had hired her almost immediately after learning her field of interest was in classical linguistics. There were a very limited number of graduates who were willing to go digging through tomes of texts, looking for new volumes.
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