Shifter Fated Mates: Boxed Set

by Mandy M. Roth

She frowned as he edged closer, pressing her back into a small alcove. “We need your permission?”

  He leaned closer, dropped his voice. “In case it escaped your notice, this is a fortress. This isn’t London, Precious. Nor is it Paris. Here in Istanbul, people still guard their homes, still protect…” His gaze lowered from her eyes to scan her face, stopped on her neck to continue. “Still protect what they consider theirs.”

  Her heart fluttered in warning. She reached out, tilted his chin up to meet her eyes again. “I’m not from London, or Paris.”

  He smiled. “I know.” Leaning closer, he pressed her against the wall. “You’ve no reason to fear.”

  Yes. Yes, you should fear warned her conscious. He raised his cup to her lips. “Please don’t throw my hospitality in my face. Drink. Just one sip.”

  The music from the hall seemed to thrum inside her, heating, cooling, heating again. What was happening? His chuckle danced between them. “I’d love to see you dance as they do. Gossamer caressing your skin, yet hiding the prize of bareness from the viewer. Soft and silky, your hair down about your shoulders. The music all but calls to you, doesn’t it?” The cup nudged her lips. “Here, drink, Precious. You won’t regret it.”

  Slowly, Reyanna opened her mouth. An image pierced her mind, of Lorenzo, her mate, and another woman entwined in bed, the sunlight dancing off their shifting bodies.

  Closing her eyes, Reyanna sipped the wine, headier than her own, spiced and full. It slid down her throat, warm and arousing.

  Opening her eyes, she stared into the handsome face of Nybras, into his aqua eyes.

  “More?”

  Without thought, she nodded, closing her eyes as he fed her the drink. She felt his lips on her neck, near her ear. “So beautiful, my precious exotic one. You’ll stay awhile with me.”

  Fear battled in her chest, even as his warm mouth moved from her neck to her jaw to her mouth.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he said softly. “Trust me.”

  * * * *

  Reya bolted up in bed, her heart pounding, her breath caught in her lungs. She was hot, aroused.

  Oh God. Nybras.

  No. No. No. Shivering, she rocked. Please. Not another dream of him. Images, memories long buried threatened to shatter through her carefully erected shields.

  Instead she looked over to the man sleeping beside her and was glad she hadn’t awakened him. Easing from the bed, Reya walked silently to the bathroom. She needed a shower. The water was warm, washing away remnants of the dream, of the nightmare that followed, of memories she wanted to erase forever.

  And why the hell was she dreaming of the demon now? She knew. No one had ever told her, but Nybras was a demon. Where he came from, she knew not. But he was powerful, controlling the winds, controlling minds, creating heat with just a thought.

  Shuddering beneath the warm spray, she concentrated instead on the here and now. On her and Lo. On the future. Not the past and fates knew that they’d had enough of bad pasts neither wished to dreg anything up.

  She turned the water off and climbed from the shower. Lorenzo stood against the counter, his arms crossed, his black boxers slightly eschew as if he’d pulled them on in a hurry. No longer did anger tighten his features, though it was still there, just under the surface. Worry creased his brow.

  “Ree, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what else is bothering you,” he said softly.

  She opened her mouth, but then shut it. Slinging her hair upside down, she quickly wrapped it in a towel and straightened. Think. She looked in the mirror as she wrapped another towel around her body.

  “And don’t even try a nothing,” he told her, not moving. He hadn’t turned around, she saw his back in the mirror, saw his profile as he stared at her.

  “I’m just worried.”

  “About?”

  “The baby, or babies or whatever.” She shuddered. “I don’t even know for certain that I am pregnant or if I want to be pregnant. I’m scared. I don’t want anything to happen and I remember what did the last time. How I had no way to save our daughter. How I couldn’t stop Sael from hurting her.”

  She turned and stared at him. “That worries me. I’d love children, but at the same time, I’d almost rather not have one, than to have one and lose it. I’ve lived through that pain and I don’t know that I’d survive it again.”

  A muscle moved in his jaw as he turned to her. “Baby, we can’t predict the future. No matter if we’re were, human, or some other creature. Not like that. I would that we could, but we can’t.”

  She sighed, and cupped his face. “I know. Thank you for being so patient with me.”

  Shadows moved in his eyes and he held her wrists. “I have a question and you don’t have to answer.”

  Reya frowned. “Okay.”

  He took a deep breath, his chest rising. “If not for you being pregnant—“

  “Maybe.”

  He shook his head, his brows beetling. “What?”

  She shrugged. “I haven’t taken a test or anything. I just told you, I don’t know for certain, but I feel different and Lilly said something so I probably am and, but I don’t know for sure and maybe it’s just hormones or stress or… I don’t know. What if I’m not? I’m already halfway thrilled. No I am, and scared and… And if I’m not then now, you’ll be disappointed too and—”

  He kissed her head. “Never mind.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice. Pulling back, she asked, “What was your question?”

  His eyes caressed her face. He licked his lips, and then cleared his throat. “I’d give my life for you.”

  She startled, blinked. “I—I know, Lorenzo.”

  He nodded. “And I know you would for me and that scares the shit out of me, Ree.” He jerked her close, kissing her hard. “It’d be a hell of a lot easier if you weren’t so damned independent.”

  She licked her lips, leaned up and kissed his mouth. “I know.”

  Sighing, he scooped her up. “We’re going back to bed.”

  For a moment, Nybras from her dream arose, but not as he was charming, the way he was when he kept killing her. Tortured her. Hurt her. She shook the images away, yet she felt Lorenzo’s shoulders tense beneath her hand. Had he seen?

  He laid her on the bed. This time their love making was slow and languorous. Instead of demanding, Lorenzo gave with each touch, each caress, each kiss and whisper.

  When she climaxed, it wasn’t a powerful shove over a cliff, but a soft rolling wave that went on and on and on.

  She rolled to her side, sick with her secretes, but not knowing how to tell him. How to share something so dark.

  Lo pulled her back against his chest. Tucking her against him, as his arms wrapped around her.

  “You should be tired,” he whispered.

  “I’m scared to sleep,” she admitted on a sigh.

  He didn’t say anything.

  Reya licked her lips. “I’m afraid he’ll be in my dreams.”

  “Who?” rumbled more from his chest than she actually heard the words.

  “Someone from a long time ago.” She shook her head against his shoulder and continued to look out the window.

  He sighed. “Ree, you promised. We promised. The past can stay in the past, but now? This is effecting us now. Is there a reason you fear this person now?”

  She shook her head. “No. No. There isn’t. I don’t know why the dreams are coming or why I’m so jumpy, or…” She shook her head again. “I can’t talk about this now. I just can’t. Please.”

  She waited, felt him tense behind her. His lips pressed against her cheek and he huffed out a breath. “For now, I’ll let it go.”

  He would? Relief trickled through her.

  “Yes I will. Now think happy thoughts. You need some rest. You haven’t been sleeping.”

  He would know. He always knew.

  Happy thoughts. Safe thoughts. Her sanctuary. Closing her eyes, she thought of the sky behi
nd her high walls, how soft the grass felt beneath her, the way the air smelled…

  She drifted back to sleep in his arms, knowing she was safe.

  * * * *

  “You’re not going by yourself.” He glanced through the mail he hadn’t looked at yesterday. The sun eased up behind Taos Mountain, casting the ranch in shadow.

  Her sigh huffed across the kitchen as she pressed the bread down into the toaster. “Lo, it’s only to Cuba. It’s not but…I dunno…two and a half, three hours tops. I’ll meet the guy, look over his stock, see if I can get him to sign with Horizons and then turn around and drive back home.”

  He reigned in on his temper knowing that the more he made an issue of it, the more she’d go just to spite him. Stubborn. She’d always been so damn stubborn.

  “Reya, I want to know you’re safe. We need to go before The Council first before you go traipsing all over the country.”

  She set her coffee mug down and turned to him. “Lorenzo, I love you. I’ll announce that I’m your mate, bound and claimed by you. But you don’t…you can’t…” She stopped, bit down, frowned, then opened her mouth again. But instead, she shook her head and turned back to her toast which popped up.

  “I don’t what? Ree? I can’t what?” He waited.

  Her shoulders stiffened and she said softly. “You don’t own me. You can’t just own a person. Going in, I want you to know where I draw the line. Your partner, yes. I understand Pride Law as it normally applies. Your mate, yes. Most of the time, I have no issue with your opinions or wants.” She turned around and glared at him. “I am a person, a being. I am me, and no one will ever take that away.”

  Again hung in the air. Lots of unsaid things hung in the air lately. Was this more of what was bothering her?

  He studied her for a moment. Scratching the side of his mouth, he said, “Reya, I don’t think I’ve ever taken that way from you.”

  She sighed, looked at him and anger licked anew at the worry creasing her brow.

  “Have I ever dictated to you?”

  Her droll look reminded him without words.

  He shook his head. “The bedroom doesn’t count.”

  Her brows rose. “Trust me. Men start thinking they’re completely in charge of a woman in the bedroom on a constant basis and sooner or later it’ll trickle over and smother the rest of their lives.”

  “Smother?” What the hell was going on with her?

  “Yes, smoother.” She slathered butter and honey on the toasted wheat bread. Today she wore jeans, half ankle boots in dark red leather with a sweater the same color. Her hair was braided and coiled at the nape of her neck.

  She wore his ring on her left hand, gave him her love, blessed him with memories, but there was a part of her, some hidden part he’d never been able to read. Ever since Europe when he’d hunted Sael down and killed him. It had been well over two hundred years ago, but to them, that was but a blink. And though he’d finally hunted his quarry to ground, he’d lost Reya then, thanks to another woman—and his own stupidity.

  He sighed, shook his head and focused on the matter at hand. “Ree, Cuba’s not far from Chaco.”

  And Chaco Canyon, the old Anasazi ruins was their beginning. Ages and eons ago, of times and languages most had forgotten. They’d fallen in love amidst the cliffs, their families toiling with the rest of the families, following the gods. But fate had been cruel. Sael—an immortal wolf—in the guise of the wise shaman, had ripped them apart. He’d been in love with Reya and a young boy would not come between Sael and his goal. For years they’d searched, both being changed from mortals to werecats. He was of lions, she of lynx. Their love should have died with their transformations. Instead, their bond had never broken. But through the years, finding each other, hoping, happiness only to be shattered again by Sael, was not something easily forgotten. Through her mind, Lorenzo had seen most she’d endured at the hands of Sael, things he’d assigned her to do for his own purposes. It had taken almost a century, but Lorenzo had found them and finally ended Sael’s miserable life. All that he knew. All before he knew. After Europe when Reya had again stepped foot on this land, he knew. All of it.

  Except one part of her life she kept shielded from him. The time from when she’d walked in on him and another woman after he’d killed Sael until she came back to America years later. He’d searched for her. He’d almost found her weeks later in Italy, but then lost her track. The years in between, almost three, were a blank. They always had been. Now he wondered. She was scared of those years. Terrified, he’d damned well felt that much in the few images he’d gotten from her before she shielded herself.

  “Who’s Nybras?” he asked.

  Her knife clattered to the floor.

  “Damn,” she ripped some paper towels off and wiped the splattered jelly off the tiles, picking up the knife. “What?” she asked.

  Her features were schooled, but her hand had trembled.

  “Last night you said Nybras in your sleep.” He watched her. “Is that a person or a thing? Is he the one that scares you, Ree?”

  He pressed, tried to read her. All he got was an image…a pair of aqua eyes.

  She shook her head and shrugged. “I just had a bad dream last night. That’s…” She looked down and took a deep breath. Finally, she looked back at him. “I will tell you, I know I have to because you’re right, something about that time, is messing with here and now and I don’t know why, but I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to go there. No now.”

  He could only stare at her. Waves of distrust and hurt radiated off her and slammed into him, but under it, under her fear and anxiety, he felt her reaching for him.

  “Please, give me a bit of time to think it all through, Lo. I’ll tell you. Before we go to The Council.”

  Lorenzo opened his mouth to say more, but his pager went off. He glanced at it. Shit.

  Hurrying, he shrugged into his brown leather coat. “We’re not through with this discussion.”

  “One could only hope,” she whispered.

  He hurried to her, kissed her quick and said, “If we wrap up whatever crime has been committed, I’ll stop by the shop for lunch.” At the door, he turned back to her. “You better damn well be there too, Ree.”

  With that he strode to his truck. The morning wind had a bite to it heralding the winter to come. The mountains were already a patchwork of golds, reds, browns and the green of pines. One good storm or wind and the leaves would fall.

  It was this time last year everything had gone wrong.

  As he drove down the drive, he looked into his rearview mirror. All the trouble last year had started with one murder.

  And now he was going to investigate another. He hoped it was an easy one.

  Who the hell was Nybras? And why had she sounded like she was begging him—whoever Nybras was and Lo just knew Nybras was a he—in her sleep last night?

  He’d damn well find out.

  Chapter Five

  Nybras waited for the phone to ring. He hoped she’d done her part. He would have loved to have participated in the murder himself, but alas…he was needed here. He looked at himself in the mirror, he’d glamoured into the illusion he needed to be.

  The body did nothing for him, slightly out of shape around the middle, a drastic receding hair line, grey mixed in at the temples. He ran his hand over it. Always bald, the hair felt foreign to him, strange and rather itchy. The mustache was a nice touch if he said so himself. The eyes he’d changed to hazel.

  Would she sense something?

  He didn’t know, but it would be fun finding out.

  Turning away from the mirror, he straightened the waffle-weaved red Henley he wore and glanced around the cabin. Jewelry graced the table. Coppers and turquoise, red corals, beaten silver. He fingered one long pendent and wondered if she would recognize it. The opal glowed almost red against his palm.

  He dropped it, picked up the cup of coffee and sprinkled in three drops of powder. Not too much. He didn’t
want to kill her, just make her sleep. The last thing he needed was her fighting him. He had to wait until he had her in the house, with its walls shielded and protected so that she couldn’t escape or project her emotions out, and if she could, they wouldn’t be very clear.

  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Flutes danced from the speakers of the cabin. The rough wood hewn furniture did nothing for him. He appreciated more classic styles of décor with definite Eastern influences.

  He wondered how much she’d changed. If his Precious had changed any at all, or if she was still as perfect and imperfect as she’d been before.

  Of course, she thought he was dead. Well, perhaps hope was a better word. She’d locked in him the bedroom and set the walls aflame, chanting things she’d learned from someone. Her spell had been to vanquish him. Unfortunately for her, though fortunate for him, she’d mispronounced several syllables. Not that he could blame her.

  With a bit more time she probably would have succeeded. But he was willing to let bygones be bygones. After all, she was his precious, precious love.

  He closed his eyes and remembered what it felt like to have her body pliant under his, what her lips had tasted like, how in the beginning she’d squeezed tight as a fist around him when he brought her pleasure.

  The image of her eyes flashing fire at him as he’d locked her in her cage made him smile. Sometimes she’d demanded he teach her the hard way, poor Precious.

  Now, she’d be independent—more so than she’d been before. That was always a heady aphrodisiac. Nothing like weakening, eroding and finally, finally breaking those with too much pride.

  He smiled and hummed several measures from a Rasa song that was in his mind. Soft light filtered through the windows, the wind chimes from the overhang outside tinkled in the air. He wondered where she was.

  He sat at the table, stared at the black bowl of water and concentrated.

  Her image cleared and wavered in the liquid. She was driving.

  Soon. Soon Precious.