She’d wrapped them tightly around each other, creating a thick braid of silvery-white and deepest black.
Haxion’s jaw dropped as she turned her palm over to accept the gift. There was hardly any warmth left to it anymore.
But even so, that last tinder of fire within Luminesa’s soul whimpered at the thought of relinquishing the last piece of him.
But Luminesa was tired of fighting. Tired of clinging to an illusion. The reality was that the Goblin’s last trick had been his very best.
For years, Luminesa had clung to the vain hope that with a little more time and patience, the enchantment might wear off and that Alador would remember her again. Would come running to her, taking her up in his arms and begging that she take him back. That he suddenly remembered it all.
But he hadn’t, and she was so, so tired…
Closing her eyes, Luminesa forced herself to truly let him go. “This, then, is what I would require of you. Give it back to him and tell him it is over.”
“But this is Alador’s hair.”
Luminesa nodded sadly, just barely touching the tip of her fingers to the braid.
“How did you get this, Luminesa?” she asked with shock in her words.
Luminesa smiled as her eyes began to swim with tears once more. “He gave it to me.”
She was going to go then, but before she did, she said one last thing. “You know, when we handfasted, he told me that in Kingdom, finding your heart’s true mate was a magic far stronger than any darkness in this world.”
Haxion’s green eyes shimmered wetly too.
“I believed him. I really did.” Then with a weak wave of her fingers, Luminesa called the ice to her, melting into a tower of it, and without saying a goodbye, turned and left the world of centaurs behind forever…
Alador
Haxion came barreling through his hut.
With a growl, Alador looked up, ready to tear into her for disturbing his peace.
The stupid singing and dancing and gorging on food had left him with a raging headache.
In fact, for the past five years, he’d felt nothing but a raw pool of rage that always simmered just beneath the surface, ready to erupt at the slightest provocation.
For that reason alone, he snapped his mouth shut and said nothing to his sister. Deep down, he knew the problem was his own and no one else’s, he just wished he knew why.
He’d thought after the nightmare had ended with that bloody Ice Queen he’d be able to leave well enough alone…but the days were horrific and the nights even worse.
By day, he loathed the very thought of that vile woman, but by night, his soul clawed out at him to go to her, to claim her as his again…
Again, as though there’d been a first time.
“What?” he finally snapped when she’d still failed to say anything.
Faintly, he saw something in her hand, a lump of something…but he wasn’t quite sure what. Haxion stared at him as though she’d never seen him before.
“Alador, I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to give me an honest answer. Do you hear me?”
His temper always at the edge of exploding, he would have probably screamed at her to leave him in peace or suffer his wrath, but something in her voice—a quiver, maybe—caused him to pause.
Cocking his head to the side, he raked his eyes over her face. She was worried. Worried and anxious.
And as angry as he always was, she was still his sister, and he loved her.
“What?” he said, trying to temper his tone.
Wetting her lips, she shook her hand at him, the one that held onto the lump of something.
“At night, when you dream of the Queen—”
He growled, his nostrils flaring. She wasn’t supposed to know that, no one was, but since he and his sister still shared a hut, it was nearly impossible to prevent it.
She hushed him with a flick of her wrist, continuing on as though she’d not been interrupted. “When you dream of her, was there a memory, a moment of…”
She blew out a heavy breath, and every cell in his body went alert because she was nervous. Haxion, a proud centauress warrior who’d never suffered a case of nerves in her life, was practically twitching like a sapling in the breeze.
“…did you handfast to her?”
Her green eyes pierced his, and it was as if someone had shoved a fist through his gut.
“What?” he asked, taken aback, because he knew he’d never shared that with her. It’d been his one shame.
The sex aspects of the dream had been wonderful. But the deeper, more spiritual emotions had made him feel raw, wounded, and uncomfortably exposed because only one other centaur male had ever bound himself to another not of his species.
Alador knew better than to do that. He’d never do that.
And yet, when he’d wake from those dreams, his body would tremble, and tears would leak from his eyes because something primitive deep inside him screamed that it was real. That it had happened, that something dark and horrible had happened to make him lose his woman.
But then the sun would come up and the memories would scatter and he’d be left with nothing but the rage and the murderous anger of her duplicity.
The woman had been evil. She’d murdered. Had tortured the children, tossing them down a steep gorge. It’d only been a miracle that Alador had been there to rescue them.
But then sometimes, he’d remember other things. Remember words like goddess, queen, my love, horse…
And in the gray time between dusk and dawn, a thread of a memory would come loose, a soft sigh, a tender touch, sweet words of affection.
He shook his head. “I never—”
Haxion unfurled her fingers, and lying on her palm was a thick braid of hair—black as ink and as silver as a moon-kissed snowdrift.
His jaw dropped. “That is my hair.”
She nodded slowly. “I know, brother. It is. And no magic in the world can separate the hairs from our head unless given with our consent.”
Those words rocked him to the core. The dreams…he remembered the dreams. But they were lies, surely they were lies…
She walked to him slowly. She took his hand, tipped it over, and slid the bracelets to him.
“Brother, what if the truth is not what you remember while awake but what your mind conjures in its sleep?”
“No.” He shook his head. Desperate it not be true, because to believe it was true was to know that he’d tried not once but twice to kill his mate, but not only that…that he’d abandoned her.
Haxion’s eyes were sad. “The day I asked her to find you. I liked her, Alador. Immediately. She was kind to me. Not at all like the stories.”
“No.” He took a step back but clinging to the bracelets. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t, because his heart still burned with hatred, but mixed up in it were the dreams…the memories of a woman, a goddess, who stirred his soul and heart.
“Oh, brother, we’ve done wrong. I do not believe at all it was her but the Goblin. He’s tricked you, twisted you, turned you into someone you’re not. You haven’t been the same since your return. I knew that, but it was easy to believe it was her fault even though deep down—”
“Haxion, stop.” He made a cutting motion with his hand. “You must stop.”
But his sister wouldn’t. She didn’t. Clasping her hands together, she tucked them tightly to her breast.
“She has done something, Alador. When I saw her this night—”
“You saw her?” For the first time, he didn’t feel a wash of hatred but a rush of emotions so powerful it was almost crippling, making him feel as though he were going to drop to his knees.
She nodded. “For five years, every night on Yule. The night of your return to us. She comes and looks down upon our herd from the bluff above. But this night was different, Alador. She was weak, cold…she said…she said she released you, and then she gave me those.”
She pointed to his hand.
“But, Alador,” she whispered, knowing immediately what he was thinking, “if you leave for her, the herd will disown you.”
She didn’t sound gleeful about it, anything but, in fact. Tears shimmered in her pupilless eyes.
“But will you, sister?”
Because she was the only one that mattered to him.
One second ticked by. Then two. Three, before finally…she shook her head slowly. “Never.”
His stomach heaving and shot through with panic, Alador said nothing else as he sped from his hut. He didn’t know why or where he was going. He knew nothing other than the overwhelming need to get to her before she did something irrevocable.
As he ran, he thought. Thought long and hard about everything. Could Haxion have been right? Were those memories of his not his own? Were the ones in his dreams real?
In his dreams, Luminesa had been a creature of divine beauty and sweet kindness. A shy, fairy-like creature that only the very lucky and chosen few ever got to see for who she truly was.
Like spotting a unicorn frolicking through a stream. That was how rare and special she was.
“Oh gods.” He clutched the bracelets tightly to his chest.
He was not running toward her castle, because deep down, he knew she’d not be there. The moment he realized that was the moment he felt the sweet arctic glow of her spread like fire through his chest.
Shaking his head, Alador began to see through the pall. The dark magick that’d cloaked him the moment the key had been pulled from his chest fractured into a million pieces, and like peeking through a veil of mist over rolling water, he began to suss out truth from fantasy.
With each step, his dread and doom increased. Reality knocked him flat, made him feel breathless. He trembled, muscles bunching, flesh sweating, as more and more memories came flooding through him.
“Oh goddess, my queen, what have I done to you?”
He’d thrown a spear at Luminesa, threatened to pluck the heart from her breast and roast it upon a fire…all while she’d gazed upon him with tears in her eyes, begging he listen to her.
“No!” he roared, forcing his body to move at a punishing pace as he followed the stirring of his heart. The oily coating of that black magick was nearly extinguished…and he remembered it all.
Do not stop searching for me. Come back for me, Luminesa…come back for me…
His words taunted him, his actions convicted him…tears blinded him as he ran around trees, as branches lashed at his cheeks, his chest, bleeding him.
But he didn’t care. She’d done as he’d bid, and he’d tortured her for it.
Alador broke through the forest, coming upon an icy clearing, and there in the center of that blue, blue snow sat his queen.
She had her hands on her lap and her head bowed. The tips of her hair danced on the breeze and were slowly fading into wisps of snow, drifting higher and higher. She was fading. Dear gods, she was fading.
“Luminesa, stop!” he roared.
Her shoulders bunched and tensed up, and like the hands of a clock moving back in slow motion, she turned toward him.
Her skin was pale as the snow around her.
The cheeks he’d remembered such a lovely shade of mauve were a ghastly shade of grayish ivory.
Rushing her, he didn’t stop to think as he reached down, plucked her up beneath her arms, and brought her tightly to his chest. She felt as light as a feather, with hardly any substance to her.
“Oh my gods, my queen, my love…” he murmured, his tears mingling with his kisses as he desperately clung to her.
Luminesa didn’t move. She was a statue in his arms, hardly even breathing.
But Alador couldn’t stop trembling, couldn’t stop begging that she stay with him.
“I’m so sorry, so very sorry. I remember everything now. I remember it all. I love you. You are the very beat of my heart and the soul of my soul. Please don’t leave me, not now. Please…”
And then…her hand slid up to his whisker-roughened cheeks. That single touch was like a shot of lightning straight through his veins.
He looked at her, and she at him. “I thought you’d forgotten me forever,” she whispered. “I tried so hard to reach you, Alador. I—”
Grabbing her hand, he looked down at her palm, and his heart thumped wildly in his chest at the sight of the hoof print. Her mark for him had never faded.
Then he looked at his own hand, and it was with glee that he saw the slow spread of the snowflake across it.
She saw it too, and that was when the tears fell.
“Is it really you?” she asked. “Will you never leave me again?”
“Oh, my love.” He kissed her soundly, exploring her lips hungrily as a different kind of fire spread through his belly. “Never. Never again. You healed me, Luminesa, in more ways than you could ever know. You broke the curse. I remember everything. Please tell me you’ll stay. Don’t end yourself.”
She laughed, and the sound was like the tinkling of fairy bells in his ears.
“I wasn’t fading, I was simply choosing to become the ice I’d been crafted to be. Being human hurts too much, and I do not like it.”
He hugged her tightly. “I’m never letting you go. Ever. If you wish to become snow, then I’ll become snow with you. Take me with you, wherever you go, whatever you do. You are mine, and I am yours. We swear by peace and love to stand—”
Her lips twitched. “Heart to heart and hand to hand—”
“Mark, o spirit, and hear us now, confirming this our sacred vow,” they both said in unison.
The wind howled as raging rivers of snow surrounded them, but Alador wore her mark, and her snow was his snow.
She was all he’d ever want in that world or the next.
Claiming his lips with her own, she nuzzled his nose before saying, “Where should we go, horse?”
Wanting to laugh with jubilation, he ran his fingers through her hair. “Anywhere so long as we’re together. I care not.”
“Have you been outcast?”
“Once my tribesmen hear of this, I’m sure I will be. Knowing Haxion, she’ll keep our secret for the night at least.”
“Would you like to see the dancing lights in the night sky? A castle atop the highest cliff in all of Kingdom. Just you and me?”
Her eyes sparkled with life, that flickering warmth of fire that he so loved.
Goddess, he’d almost lost her forever.
Alador would never stop hating himself for what he’d done, but he’d also never stop in his efforts to make it up to her.
“I would follow you to the moon.”
Standing, she held tightly to his hand. “Maybe in a few years, we can return to your sister. So that she can see you are well.”
“It will take at least a few years before my hunger for you isn’t quite so feral.” He tucked a curl of her silvery hair behind her ear. And then, with all earnestness and seriousness, looked her deeply in the eyes as he said, “I love you, woman mine.”
“Always?” she asked softly.
“Always and forever,” he murmured.
Then tipping her chin up, he kissed her, and she kissed him right back with all the passion, longing, and love that only true soul mates could know…
Baba Yaga
Cackling softly, she rubbed Balthazar’s head as she gazed on the bones.
“He’s lost. The Under Goblin’s lost, as I knew he would. And boy, does he owe me now, Balthazar. Does he ever owe me now…”
The End
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About Jovee Winters
Jovee Winters is the pen name of a NY Times and USA Today bes
tselling author who loves books that make you think or feel something, preferably both. She’s also passionate about fairy tales, particularly twisting them up into a story you’ve never thought could be possible.
She's married to the love of her life, a sexy beast of a caveman who likes to refer to himself as Big Hunk. She has two awesome kids she likes to call Thing 1 and Thing 2, loves cooking, and occasionally has been known to crochet. She also really loves talking about herself in the third person.
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Ghost of Shifters Past by Tasha Black
About Ghost of Shifters Past
A spirit from the past. A love for the future.
Bonnie Summers is an outsider in Tarker’s Hollow, a small college town that’s home to a secret enclave of shifters just like her. Despite a warm welcome from the pack, and an abundance of handsome suitors, Bonnie still feels alone. Until a spirit from the town’s mysterious past decides to pay her a visit, stoking the flames of her desire, and begging for her help.
Now, her primal passions ignited, Bonnie needs to unravel a dark secret in time to save the man who holds the key to her salvation.
Ghost of Shifters Past is a steamy standalone novella set in the world of Tarker’s Hollow, home to the bestselling Curse of the Alpha series.
Chapter 1
Bonnie Summers walked bravely through the bustling streets of Tarker’s Hollow, trying to stay alert to avoid bumping into a mailman or one of the army of moms out with strollers on a snowy morning.
Before she’d moved here, her friend, Erik, had described Tarker’s Hollow as a tiny college town. But Bonnie was overwhelmed by the sidewalks, the close set houses, and the enormous trees touching each other across the streets like you were walking in a giant tunnel all the time.
Copper Creek had been a true small town. The beautiful mountains there sheltered the sprinkling of houses from the wind. A single stop sign managed what passed for traffic.
Alphas for the Holidays Page 157