by Dalia Wright
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Table of Contents
Rose’s Mate (Shifters of the Bulgarian Bloodline) Book 5
The Preacher’s Daughter’s Secret
Saved by a Cowboy
In Love with a Preacher’s Daughter
Rescued by the Alpha Wolf
The Panther’s Lair
Once Upon a Mail Order Bride
A Vampire Love In Time
Abducted By the Alpha Alien
Nursing the Soldier
Rich Love
A New Love Baby Daddy Next Door
Crazy In Love With a Bad Boy
A Boss’s Forbidden Temptation
Not Just Another Soul Mate Book
Knocked Up by The Navy Shifter
The Highlander’s English Princess
Craving a Cowboy
Forbidden Love Affair
Summoned
A Secret Love in Paradise
Betrothed and in Love with a Commoner
The Duke’s Engagement
Secret Escape
To Love a Wounded Soldier
In Love with the Wrong Brother
Fate Takes a Turn
The Mistress of Black Grove Manor
Rescued from Royalty
The Pregnant Preacher’s Daughter
A Taboo Billionaire Love
Adopted by the Amish
The Superstar’s Lost Love
A Soldier’s Last Hope
Working for the Billionaire Shifter
The Bishop’s Daughter’s Romance
The Minister’s Daughter’s Secret Love
Therapy for the Navy Seal
In Love with the Duke’s Son
An Amish Double Life
God’s Plan for a Husband
Tempted by the Duke’s Son
Running Away for Love
A Taste of Freedom
Gifted a Baby
Hannah’s Miracle
Forced into Royalty
The Amish Nanny’s New Beloved
Annie’s Escape
Bella’s Return
Tia’s Mate (Shifters of the Bulgarian Bloodline) Book 1
Preview
Rose’s Mate
Shifters of the Bulgarian Bloodline
(Book 5)
By: Dalia Wright
Prologue
She ran for her life, her breath huffing in the cold night. She shot past streetlamps, lonely buildings and abandoned machinery, her hairy feet pounding the concrete. Her enhanced sight alighted on shapes within the blackness, shapes that pursued her.
Her breathing became manic, panicked. She didn't just fear for her life. She feared for the little one, bundled in her arms, eyes squinted as he stared up at his mother, not yet scared or wailing, just curious. The rocking motion of her gait actually helped lull him into a sleepy yawn. The bundles protected him against the cold whip of wind, and all she could do was pray, and hope that she might escape.
Without her arms swinging like pistons at her sides, she couldn't run as fast as normal. She loped, sometimes swerved, sometimes risked leaps, all the while listening for her pursuers.
They would want her back. They desired the child in her arms. Her thoughts slid to the Basement, and terror froze her brain for a moment, before the adrenaline kicked the fear aside into something manageable.
She never, ever wanted to return to the Basement again. Not to that place where women suffered and where their plaintive cries rent the night, heard only by uncaring ears, of those who drank in pain like food and water, who practised their distorted perceptions of an ideal life.
Ideal! Chains were their ideal. Producing offspring from suffering and hate filled them with sadistic joy. They were so careful, too, picking people no one would miss. Human girls without passports, women trafficked from seedy regions and red-light districts to the Basement.
How they rejoiced when she had been delivered into their midst. How they trapped her in their web of evil, knowing she wouldn't be missed, because everyone thought her dead, like the rest of her clan. The others had descended upon her family with the ferocity of the Devil, leaving her with nothing but hatred and seeping darkness in her heart.
Now, she didn't know where to go, where to run, except that this child of hers couldn't be left to that fucked-up cult, to be raised in their insane and depraved image, without the chance of learning how to live a happy and decent life. And perhaps, in turn, making others suffer as she had suffered when reaching prime age.
Never again. The cycle needed to break, to wrench itself from the shackles of the past, and the perpetration of limitless evil.
Never again.
If she was lucky, she'd be killed. That Gregorovitch who had been asking around for her – she knew he wanted her dead, too. Just like her family.
The baby in her arms, nameless, because she feared his death in the first early weeks of his life, blinked at her with yellow and blue eyes. He had the gift. Once he had weaned himself off her milk, the babe would disappear forever into the cracks of evil.
Ivelina ran, gasping as she did so, her breath harsh and sobbing as she sprinted through the night.
Half an hour went without any glimpse or scent of the others. In a flash, she morphed back into her human form, before pounding upon the door of a random house. She pounded and pounded until the light came on, and someone peered cautiously through the curtains. Their eyes widened at the sight of her as a filthy mess, clutching the baby tight.
They opened the door, and Ivelina saw a young woman, likely a student, in her pajamas, with a scruff of red hair, concern and anxiety etched upon her pretty features.
Ivelina started talking to the girl, but the girl replied in English, shaking her head and holding up her hands.
Ivelina switched. “Take baby. Please. Protect him. Have money.” She dug into her baggy robes, and dropped dozens of notes onto the floor of the astonished woman. “Take him. Keep him safe. I have to go.”
Without giving the woman any time to protest, Ivelina placed the baby at her feet. Then, with a heart-wrenching sob of anger and bitterness, she went back the way she came. To lure her chasers away.
The look of horror and confusion on the girl's face might have made her laugh at one time. No more laughter existed for Ivelina these days.
There was only darkness.
Chapter One
Rose Talbot didn't expect the knock, or the random baby. That strange, desperate woman who begged and pleaded for her to protect the baby, before dashing off into the night, left many questions lodged in Rose's skull, and more than just a passing sensation of hysteria. It wasn't like Rose knew how to rear a baby, either, and she certainly couldn't produce milk. The only real option would be to give the thing to the authorities. She had scooped it up from the doorstep after a few fruitless attempts to call the woman back. The crazy, matted individual had well and truly vanished into the unknown, and Rose didn't fancy the idea of chasing after her in the dead of night.
She placed the baby on the table, and tried calming herself down with a drink of water and a snack whilst she figured out what the hell she was supposed to do with it. She scooped up the money as well, not bothering to flick through it, preoccupied with bigger,
pressing concerns.
I have no idea what the fuck just happened. The woman's frantic, ravaged look sprang to Rose's mind. She looked like the product of someone wasted by years of drug abuse.
Have they just dumped me with some unwanted baby? Is this how people in Bulgaria get rid of their newborns? Instead of throwing one in the trash, just throw it at someone's door for all the Vernon and Petunia Dursleys of the world to take it in?
She stared at the baby for a little while longer, heart tap dancing in trepidation, because damnit, she was a student, not a baby farmer.
Imagine explaining this to her family back home in America. Hey mom, I just want you to know that some crazy Bulgarian lady threw this baby at me and asked me to look after it and left a massive wad of cash on my doorstep.
The cash was nice, of course, though Rose saw it more as blood money than something useful. The last thing you wanted or needed when studying in another country was to draw attention to yourself.
For all Rose knew, the baby was the result of some Mafia hit-and-run, and by carrying the kid, she'd be right in their cross-hairs.
Fuck me, then. She examined the chubby, snuffling baby. He opened his eyes and blinked at her with peculiar-colored irises – one yellow, one blue. She had never seen a human with a yellow eye before, and it looked creepy.
God, what if I have, like, the Devil's child on my doorstep?
The baby made gurgling sounds, and waved his hands toward her. His toothless face opened in a smile.
Astonished, Rose watched as the baby laughed and giggled at her, the sound quietening when she tentatively let him close one chubby fist around her smallest finger. Then, the baby burbled, eyes facing the door. Rose sipped her glass of water, before freezing as a knock sounded.
Instantly alert, she released herself from the baby's grip, quickly grabbed the wad of cash the woman had left and stuffed it into her handbag, which bulged suspiciously from the paper money.
Then, paranoia racing through her, because who knocked at someone's place in the middle of the night, aside from baby-dropping mothers? – she peeked through the curtains.
A man stood at the door, his hands tucked into his pockets, a scowl upon his face.
Oh shit. Ohhhhh holy moly I'm done for.
Rose's instant reaction was to freak out. Shit! He looks like a serial killer. Is he a serial killer? Why is he outside my door? I better not answer. She caught a glimpse of a lean, predatory build to his frame. He wore a black leather jacket, blue jeans and boots, and glowered at her door. Pale eyes shone from his face, under curly dark hair.
Her first thought upon examining him was that he looked a little like one of her favorite characters from a film – Count Ademar. He possessed those same cheekbones, the rounded face, the noble lips and chin with smoky, lidded eyes giving a permanently sleepy expression.
The second thought was that Count Ademar in the film happened to be evil.
Just before Rose backed away and whisked the surprise baby away, the man called in a perfect English accent, “I know you're in there. I can hear you breathing.”
Fuckity fuckity fuck. Shaking violently and holding her breath, Rose said, “What do you want? Because no offense, but you look fucking scary.”
The man's gaze trained upon her at the window. She gave a little yelp and pulled away.
“Okay,” he called, “let's do it this way.” His deep baritone voice sounded exasperated. There was a rustling sound, before he said, “Don't worry about opening the door. I'm Sebastian Gregorovitch. I'm here looking for my cousin, Ivelina Lubanov. I know she's been here. I want to know if she's with you or has spoken to you.”
“What does she look like?” Rose asked, still deeply suspicious, but willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. The I.D. card showed the man's name as Sebastian Gregorovitch.
“Dark-haired, amber eyes. Short. Terrible English accent.”
Despite herself, Rose smiled. “I might have had someone like that at my door.”
“Might have?” Sebastian repeated. “Is she no longer with you?”
When she replied no, he cursed.
“Damn! Did she speak to you, at least?”
“Yes,” Rose said, anxiety tingeing her voice. Her heart beat hammered faster as she wondered if what she was thinking was a bad idea or not. “She also left me something.”
“She did? What is it? A note?”
“Not exactly...” Rose hesitated, before telling the stranger, “she left a baby.”
There was dead, baffled silence. “She what?”
“She left a baby.”
After another brief pause, he asked, “What color eyes does the baby have?”
Finding the question odd, she replied, “Blue and yellow.”
“Can I come in to see for myself?”
“No offense, but I still don't trust you.”
A grunt of irritation came from outside. Rose edged nearer to the door, her limbs shaking. Serial killers would say anything, wouldn't they, to get in. For all she knew, this Sebastian Gregorovitch was the one chasing the woman in the first place.
“Sorry,” he said to her, his voice now grating and harsh, “but I think I need to come in now.”
The door burst open in an explosion of splinters. A snarling monster emerged from the broken pieces, nothing like the man who had been standing outside, and Rose instantly screamed. Her scream was short-lived, however, since the creature bounded towards her and muffled her mouth with a hairy paw.
Dragging her along, the creature moved to examine the gurgling baby, now smiling at the monster who towered before it.
“Sorry,” the creature snarled, though obviously an apology wouldn't cut it at this point. A short, sharp blow sent Rose straight into unconsciousness.
Chapter Two
When Rose woke up, the red velvet drapes of a four-poster bed greeted her. She lay snug between thick red blankets, and she stared at the ceiling through the gap in the bed. A dull ache throbbed at the back of her skull, and the memory came back to her in a flash.
A monster, ripping through her door as if it was made of matchsticks. The weird apology just before the monster then proceeded to knock her out. The monster had been wearing the same clothing as Sebastian Gregorovitch, so Rose had to assume that they were one and the same.
Her eyes drifted to the glass of water lying by the side of the bed. Her throat felt parched, ragged. The surroundings, honestly, appeared grand and gothic, with the sort of architecture one might expect to find in an eighteenth-century building. A mahogany dressed table sat on one side of a huge wardrobe, with three mirrors framed by sculpted patterns of birds decorating the top.
The circumstances in which she had arrived here, however, were less than ideal.
Doesn't matter how pretty the place is, if I'm a prisoner. Rose expected herself to start panicking and hyperventilating, but she didn't. Something in her mind told her that if someone planned to do creepy, serial killer stuff to her, they wouldn't dump her in a four-poster bed, leave a glass of water, and leave no bindings on her arms or legs.
These observations alone bled the terror out of her system. Even the way that creature had said sorry, before clouting her on the head, added to the conviction that maybe not all was bad.
Just as more questions erupted in her mind, the door leading into the bedroom opened, and the kidnapper in question stepped through onto the green-shaded carpet, carrying a tray of food.
“Hello,” he said, as if there was nothing wrong about the situation at all. Rose glared at him.
“Explanation,” she said. “Now.”
“Sure,” he replied, placing the tray on the empty space next to her. “First things first, I'm a werewolf.”
Rose watched in utter bewilderment, and a shiver of fear as he morphed in front of her, fur growing on his hands, face elongating into a snout, and his odd, silvery eyes shining with an ethereal glow. He gave her a literal wolfish grin, then melted his face back into those handsome human feat
ures.
“And, to answer any extra questions you might have – yes, werewolves are real. No, I don't know about any other supernatural creatures out there. No, we don't only shift at full moon, and we're totally cool with silver. And yes, I've kidnapped you to protect our super-secret secret.”
Most of this went over Rose's head. The panic did, however, recede slightly, and she fidgeted under the bedcovers as she scrutinized the calm, almost amiable figure of Sebastian Gregorovitch. He slowly morphed back into human form.
“Can you, like, repeat that again, and slower, so I understand it better?”
Sebastian sighed, but complied.
Bitch better not be sighing. I'm the one taken prisoner here. After someone decided to drop a baby at my doorstep.
Rose contemplated the possibilities of escaping. She also contemplated the fact she had just been inadvertently dumped into a supernatural world, expanding the width of her personal universe. Maybe Sebastian had her here for some initiation rite or something.
“Are you going to turn me into a werewolf because I know your secret?”
Sebastian blinked, momentarily confused. “Well, no. We can't turn humans into werewolves. Sorry. But we're going to make you swear vows of secrecy and the like, under a slight hint of death. Just a slight one, though.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Over the course of the next few hours, Sebastian Gregorovitch patiently explained to her the mechanics of the werewolf world, smiling as if enamored by her.