by Jane Godman
“What is that?”
“Get those bloody ogres off my lawn.”
* * *
Stella spread her wardrobe options over her bed. Downstairs the leaders of Otherworld, called together by the Dominion, were gathering for their first council meeting. Before that, there would be another, even more important ceremony. And she had nothing to wear. Story of your life.
She glanced at the dress and shoes Moncoya had chosen for her. Remarkably, the outfit had survived the battle unscathed. The dress was beautiful. It couldn’t be blamed for the fact that it had been chosen by an evil, butchering tyrant, she reasoned. It was that or her shorts. There was no contest.
When she made her way down the grand staircase and into the banquet hall, she wore denim shorts and a plain black vest. Cal was waiting for her. Predictably, he wore jeans. His eyes crinkled into a smile as he took in her outfit.
“It was all I had,” she whispered, aware of the dozens of interested eyes upon them.
“Do you think I care what you wear? You look beautiful.” The smile in his eyes deepened. “You always do. It’s our choice if we want it to be a dress-down occasion.”
They turned to face the Dominion. It wasn’t every girl who had her marriage ceremony performed by an angel in front of the leaders of the warring dynasties of Otherworld. It was a pity there were no photographs for her Facebook page. In a relationship with Merlin. It might get one or two comments.
When the ceremony and the endless, wonderful first kiss were over, Stella examined the ring Cal had placed upon her finger. It was a Celtic knot, engraved with ancient runes. “It belonged to my mother,” he explained. “She told me that she wanted my true love to wear it. It has been waiting all these centuries for you.”
Before Stella could reply, Tanzi approached them. In Moncoya’s absence, she was to be the faerie representative on the council.
“Congratulations.” Although the word was stiff and cost her a lot, Stella admired her bravery in being the first to come forward. Her father’s desertion must have hit her hard.
“Thank you. I hope your sister is improving?” At first it was believed that Vashti had fled the scene with Moncoya, but the elves had found Tanzi’s twin injured and unconscious on the battlefield. Stella might have a stormy relationship with Vashti, but she had somehow never envisioned the belligerent little sidhe as the sort of person who would run away when things got tough. She was glad she had been right.
“I hope that, with careful nursing, she will make a full recovery.” Tanzi turned to Cal. “Your friend...the Irish necromancer. He could not be here for your marriage?”
“Lorcan has a tendency to turn up when he wants to rather than when he is required to. Not conforming is his specialty.”
Tanzi wandered away after that and Stella spent the next hour at Cal’s side being introduced to the dignitaries who were gathering for the inaugural meeting of the peacekeeping council. She quickly lost track of who was who until she saw a face she recognized.
Prince Tibor dismissed Stella’s attempt to explain why she was forced to put him and his vampires out of action during the conflict. “You are the star. It is what you were brought here to do. I suppose you have seen nothing of Dimitar, my slave?”
Stella returned a noncommittal answer and the prince, clearly disgruntled, moved on. The Dominion took his place, coming to stand beside them.
“The elves have agreed to lead the peacekeeping force. One suggestion that has been made is that elections should be held. There should be a democratic vote for the leader of each dynasty.”
Cal shook his head. “I am not convinced that the faeries would vote against Moncoya. He has ruled them for too long. They fear him and don’t know any other way than his.”
“Perhaps the time has come to show them there can be another way.” The Dominion looked around the room.
“Are the rumors true? Is there a descendant of King Ivo, one who can legitimately challenge Moncoya for the crown?”
The Dominion regarded Cal thoughtfully as though considering how much information to impart. “There is,” he said at last.
“Then what is the problem? Bring him out of hiding. Let him challenge Moncoya openly.”
“Well, for one thing, the identity of the true heir has been so well hidden that he himself is unaware of it.”
“But you know who he is.” Stella sensed that Cal was finding the careful formality of the angel’s conversation frustrating.
“I do. Unlike the goddesses of fate, however, I am unable to intervene. That is not my role. The matter must be left to run its course.”
“Why do I suspect you already know what that course will be?”
The Dominion’s prim smile appeared. “You flatter me, my friend. I have an idea, nothing more.”
Cal turned to look at the banquet hall. A huge circular table had been set up in the center and the council members were beginning to take their seats. “This reminds me of another round table, another century—” He glanced down at Stella. She looked up and grinned mischievously at him. His own lips curved into an answering smile. “—another life.”
“If you will permit my familiarity, I think this life suits you better, my friend.”
“It does. And it would suit me even more if I knew I would not have to share this table with Moncoya at any point in the future.”
“I can offer you no guarantees. All I know is that, if it comes to it, you will deal with him as you see fit in order to ensure the safety of Otherworld. In the meantime, who knows? The true heir may soon emerge and stake his claim.”
“Is there a way we can help him do that?” Stella asked.
“If there is, I am sure that the two of you will find it.” The enigmatic words were accompanied by a slight bow. “For now, my friends, I will bid you farewell.”
“Cal?” Stella caught hold of his hand as he was about to walk toward the round table. “This may seem like a silly question...but what’s my name now? Am I Mrs. Merlin? After everything that’s happened, tell me I’m not Mrs. Moncoya.”
He started to laugh. “Back when I was born, we tended to choose our own names. I’ve always liked Merlin Caledonius the best. How about we go for that?”
“Stella Caledonius. It has a ring to it. When this meeting is over, can we go away for a few days? The Dominion said the elves will act as a peacekeeping force. Can’t we have ourselves a honeymoon before we try to find this missing heir?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t mind. Except Barcelona. That’s the only place I’m going to veto.”
“And I’ll veto Darnantes. I do know a nice little cave in Wales. I have some fond memories of the mountain pool there...”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from WILD WOLF CLAIMING by Rhyannon Byrd.
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Wild Wolf Claiming
by Rhyannon Byrd
Prologue
Nine years ago
Elliot Connors was in a shitty situation. One he’d been putting off for too long.
A week had passed since another human life had been lost because of his mistakes, and he knew he should have dealt with this reckoning, or conf
rontation, or whatever you wanted to call it long before now. But he hadn’t, because he suspected he knew exactly how this meeting would go.
Standing at the far end of the dining room table in his parents’ house, he watched as Jerry and Miriam Connors digested the confession he’d just made to them. A dark, ugly confession, full of blood and sin and evil. And in their eyes, no doubt, embarrassment—at least as much as they were able to process. He didn’t for a moment think they would mourn the loss of the human life he’d taken, or the one that’d been lost because of him. No, compassion for humanity wasn’t in their makeup. Hell, compassion for anything was beyond them.
But his lack of control would be the thing that proved difficult for them to face. To Jerry and Miriam Connors, control meant everything. There was nothing, nothing in this entire world, that they believed in more.
As pure-blooded werewolves in the Silvercrest Lycan pack, Elliot’s parents could have easily been one of those arrogant, racist couples who despised anyone and anything they deemed beneath them. Humans, the half-breed Bloodrunners who protected the pack, and any Lycan who mated with a human. For most purebloods, these groups were not only deemed inferior, but often abhorrent.
His parents, though, were different. The thing they hated most in this world was emotion, in any form. As orphans who had been raised with foster families, his parents had suffered for lack of attention and he’d always wondered if that had forged them into such cold, calculating adults. But, in truth, he didn’t honestly know. The only certainty he had when it came to the two Lycans who had given him life was that emotion in their eyes meant weakness. And what was a loss of control but the absence of logic in the face of extreme emotion? Passion, love, devotion. The concepts were no doubt as foreign to them as guilt would be to a sociopath.
God, no wonder he’d been so attracted to Marly, with her kind smiles and her natural warmth. She’d been the kind of girl who could make even the shyest introvert feel welcome, and he’d been drawn to the warmth of her human soul like a moth to a flame. Only...Marly hadn’t been the danger. Elliot and the world that he came from had. And now it was too late. Marly was gone, his seventeen-year-old soul was blackened and there was no one to blame but himself.
From the look on his parents’ faces, he knew they blamed him, too.
Reaching for the cup of coffee that sat before him, his father took a sip of the steamy beverage, then lowered the mug. His dark eyes, so like Elliot’s own, narrowed with decision, and in a calm voice, he said, “You made mistakes that could have easily been avoided had you been willing to control your more primitive urges, and then you took refuge with the Runners. It seems logical that your place is with them now. We’ll expect you to have your things out of the house by the end of the day.”
Well, that was no fucking surprise. And yet, he couldn’t quite swallow down the lump that had just lodged its way into his throat. “Yeah?” he choked out. “So that’s it?”
His mother’s tone was as bland as her expression as she turned her attention from his father to him. “What more did you expect, Elliot?”
A husky, bitter laugh left his lips before he could stop it. “I suppose a heartfelt ‘We love you and will stand by you’ would be asking a bit much, huh?”
“And what place does love have in this life that you’ve chosen for yourself?” his father asked. “How can love exist for something as ill-disciplined as you?”
He kept his gaze focused on his mom, feeling like an idiot for hoping for something that would never be there. A flash of regret. A flicker of guilt. Instead, she was like a beautiful china doll, and just as lifeless. He idly wondered if she would shatter like dropped porcelain if that wide mouth of hers ever tried to curl in a smile or a sneer...or an impassioned defense of her only child. But she simply sat there, like a statue, and he forced himself to turn away before he made a fool of himself in front of them.
Heading upstairs to his bedroom, he could only give another hollow, gritty laugh when he found the stack of moving boxes they’d left on his bed. He told himself that a lot of people left home at seventeen, and that he’d be fine. But it didn’t make the ache in his gut hurt any less, or the anger firing through his veins burn any colder.
It took him little time to pack his things, his need to be gone from that place more important than organization. He shoved his crap into the boxes in huge armfuls, only taking his clothes and books and leaving the rest behind.
His parents still sat at the table, both of them reading the paper in icy, sterile silence, and Elliot didn’t even slow his steps as he made the last trip past the dining room archway and out the front door.
Climbing into the truck the Runners had let him borrow, he started the engine and got the hell out of there. The back of his throat and nose burned, but he sniffed and tightened his jaw, refusing to shed any tears over the couple who had given him life.
Not. A. Single. Damn. One.
Chapter 1
Present day
December
So this is Charity, Pennsylvania, Elliot thought, casting a long, dark look down the wide street that ran through the center of town. What a screwed-up name.
Despite the beauty of the state, this particular place was a shithole, and that was putting it nicely. In Elliot’s opinion, there didn’t seem to be a single charitable thing about it, its only redeeming feature the fact it was surrounded by thick, lush forest. As a Lycan, or werewolf, Elliot craved the scent and feel of the woods the way a baby hungered for mother’s milk. So in his eyes, the surrounding forest was the only saving grace to good ol’ run-down, seen-better-days-decades-ago Charity.
Not even the haggard Christmas lights flashing down the sides of the street could make the place look cheery.
“Dude, what’s up with the look on your face? You step in some yellow snow, or just thinking about how long it’s been since you actually made an effort to get laid?”
The questions came from the pain in the ass standing beside him, his Bloodrunning partner and best friend, Max Doucet. The two of them had met nearly a decade ago, at the lowest points of their lives, and somehow found their way through the nightmare together. Max had once been human, before he was attacked by a rogue wolf and turned. And Elliot... Elliot’s nature had been forged in the jaws of hell itself.
And now they worked as Bloodrunners alongside the men and women who’d saved them all those years ago. Max had been fortunate to have the Runners’ support because he was an innocent who’d been caught up in the pack’s troubles, and Elliot because he’d acted on instinct and saved the life of Torrance Dillinger when she was attacked by the group of rogue wolves he’d been involved with. Her husband and mate, Mason, had told the frightened, traumatized young Lycan Elliot had been back then that they’d helped him because they could tell he had a good heart. Such simple words, and yet, he knew it was their faith in him that had made the difference. That had kept him in the light, when he could have easily slithered into a cold, emotionless existence that would have been too much like his parents’ way of living.
Thanks, but no thanks.
Given a second chance, he’d held on to the Runners’ belief in him with a white-knuckled grip as the years went by, while still holding himself back from the things most men craved. Holding back, until he finally reached a point where he’d started to believe he could trust himself as much as they did. And it was then that he’d started to let his body and mind want more.
And, yeah, by more he meant a woman.
He might not have any experience, save that one hellish night all those years ago, but he’d learned physical control. You couldn’t be a Runner without it, and he was one of the best. Elliot could say that without being cocky, the work he and Max did more than worthy of their positions within the group.
But he refused to let his hard-earned control over his body bleed its way into his emotions. He migh
t be more subdued than Max, but he still felt things deeply...strongly. Probably a hell of a lot more strongly than even those closest to him knew.
So, yeah, he lusted and hungered for the pleasure that could be found in the soft, tender clasp of a woman’s body. And yet, when he’d finally allowed himself to want more, there’d been no one he knew who’d captured his attention. He’d tried dating within the pack a few times, but as badly as his body craved release, he hadn’t found a woman who was the woman. The one he wanted so badly he ached with it. And if he’d waited this long, Elliot figured he might as well make it worth it.
Despite how long he’d been alone, he wanted a lover. Someone he could lose himself in; someone he could learn. Learn to please. To make moan. Even to scream.
But with pleasure. Only ever with pleasure. So much pleasure that he would be the only thing she craved. The one thing in the world she needed above all others.
So I’ll wait as long as it takes, he silently growled, hoping that all the hours he spent hunting for the scum of the earth in shitty towns like this one would pay off for him one day. That his years of sacrifice would lead him to something good. Something that was damn well worth the wait.
Tired of being ignored, Max suddenly stepped in front of him and arched a raven brow. “Since you’ve gone mute on me, I’ll take your crabby expression to mean that you want out of this shitastic place as badly as I do.”
He jerked his chin up in response, glad that Max was on the same page with him.
“So how are we gonna do it?”
“We could always flip a coin,” he murmured with a smirk, since it was one of the tamer ways they divvied up jobs when they didn’t have a preference. “I don’t think the cops around here would appreciate it if we tried to see who can howl the loudest.”
Max gave a rough bark of laughter, then pulled a shiny new quarter from his front pocket and rubbed it between his fingers. “Heads, you get to go inside and risk food poisoning while waiting for the waitress to show. Tails, you get to haul your ass over to the apartment complex and scout out the other one.”