He didn’t finish, but he looked devastated. Waking to a life ruined was a feeling she knew all too well.
Ash strode to her jacket and put it on. “Get the hell out of town. Whatever life you had here is over.”
“Like yours, Natasha?”
“My name is Ash.” So, he’d recognized her. Goody for him. She reached her jacket and pulled out a wad of hundred-dollar bills. She tossed it at Rick and he caught the roll. “Stay off the grid. No credit cards, no ATMs, no cell phones, no contact with anyone. She pulled a glittering silver card out of another pocket. “Contact this man, tell him I sent you. Kael will get you and Maggie everything you need to start over.”
Rick looked at the money then at her. “I’m sorry about your parents. I guess you survived.”
“If you want to call it that.” Ash zipped up her jacket. “I’m sorry about your wife.”
The silence that stretched between them was filled with seven kinds of misery. She had spent so long shoving down her feelings, that moments such as these felt like getting filleted by a dull knife. “You’re paid up in the hotel for the next two days.” She withdrew the Mercedes keys and the valet ticket from her pocket. “The car is yours. Kael will give you the title.”
“This is surreal. I just can’t believe it’s all happening.”
“You’ll get used to it.” Ash turned and started toward the door.
Rick grabbed her arm and swung her around. “That night at the party, I wanted to kiss you. I always regretted not doing it.”
In a weird way, she was glad she hadn’t been the only one lamenting that lost opportunity. So, Ash pressed her lips to his. Startled, he returned her kiss, but she knew his response wasn’t about attraction or lost love or even about regret. It was anguish. It was the need for connection. It was, she supposed, penance.
When she stepped back, he looked so wounded that she wished she hadn’t been so damned impulsive. The man had obviously loved his wife and was still grappling with her loss. Everything he knew was gone.
“Would it make you feel better to slap me?” she asked softly.
He laughed and the darkness cleared from his eyes. “No, but thanks.”
“Take care of yourself.” Once again, she turned to go.
“You’re just leaving?”
She paused and looked over her shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”
He nodded, but his eyes cut to the door on the far side of the room.
“Say good-bye to her for me.” Ash couldn’t face the kid. The fall-out would be intense. Guilt lashed at her for abandoning them, but she couldn’t stay. She had to get to Las Vegas. She had leave Tulsa and her past behind forever.
And that meant Rick and Margaret, too.
“Thank you, Natasha. I owe you.”
Ash strode away without acknowledging his debt.
It was time to leave her past behind. And head toward her future … in Las Vegas.
Hell, maybe she would open a detective agency.
A Short Interview with the Lycan Princes
How often to friends treat you like actual dogs? (Such as saying “Sit, boy” or “Go fetch”?) What would you do if someone actually did that to you?
Damian: None would dare. Not if they enjoy having faces.
Drake: Oh, sure. Me and Darrius go wolf all the time to play with the kids. Well, we did. So many of our friends' children are all grown-up now. Still. There's nothing better than a good, long run in the run at night.
Darrius: Before Patsy was queen, she was kind enough to wash and groom me (and Drake on occasion). There are some perks to being in our wolf form. No one should underrate the joy of good treat (or squeaky toy).
Damian, what makes you happy? What brings you joy? What makes you smile? Do you like chocolate?
Damian: I don't think about personal happiness. I have a duty to the town and to Queen Patsy. I don't understand the need to seek out joy. My brothers smile enough for the three of us. I don't eat candy. Not even chocolate.
Since we can only imagine how difficult handling the security of Broken Heart must be sometimes, what do each of you like to do to relax and have fun?
Damian: There's too much to do, to worry about to think about relaxation.
Drake: Skinny dipping in the creek.
Darrius: Dancing. And Jessica has gotten me and Drake hooked on Rock Band.
Do you have trouble telling each other apart?
Damian, Drake, and Darrius: Nein, nein, nein.
Have any of you ever wished you were one of the other two? And why?
Damian: No.
Drake: Darrius and I used to trade places to play jokes on our friends and our women. But nein, I have never wished to be anyone other than me.
Darrius: I like being the youngest because it means I'm further away from the crown. I have never wanted to rule, or to lead.
Have you ever had problems because a woman couldn't tell you apart and fell in love with more than one of you at a time?
Damian (glaring at his brothers): That has never happened.
What has been the most challenging part of running security for Broken Heart?
Drake: We are lycans, Liebling. There is no challenge too great for us. :-) The Invisi-shield has definitely helped us keep out intruders, most of them anyway, and we handle the rest. Ah, but the most challenging part? Damian, of course.
Lycan or Not
The Blood Moon Battle
As told to Lorcan O’Halloran
“Blood on the moon,” intoned the High Priestess. In the temple’s smallest chapel, candle light flickered against the gray stone walls. She stared at the crystal held by the life-sized statue of the Moon Goddess. Most lycanthropes could see the swirling colors, but only she could interpret their meanings. “It does not bode well.”
“Alaya, I’ve known you since we were pups,” said Damian with a grin. “You worry too much.”
“You might show some respect,” she said, one regal blonde brow rising. “I am the
High Priestess.”
“And I am the crown prince.” Damian tweaked her nose. Her lips twitched to keep from laughing. “Prince does not trump High Priestess.”
“Tonight, it does,” he said jovially. “Tonight, I will dance with my wife under the full moon.”
“Don’t jostle her too much,” said Alaya, only half-kidding. “Those babies are precious.”
“I know it too well,” said Damian. “But a celebration requires dancing. We have much to be grateful for.”
He gave Alaya a hug. His joy was so thick, she could almost breathe it in. He had married a Roma noblewoman and she carried in her womb the hope of both their peoples. Though she knew it had not been a love match, Damian and Anna had a deep respect for each other, and for their common goal of uniting the lycanthropes.
Alaya looked down at her scrying bowl. The dark red rim around the moon meant death. She wished she was wrong. Yet, her gift had never betrayed her.
She could only hope that Damian would be able triumph when Death arrived to claim his souls.
#
“Damian!” Damian hurried into the bedroom already drawing his gun. His gaze swept the area as he assessed the danger to his wife.
She laughed. “We are not under attack. The babies are kicking.”
Grinning, Damian holstered the weapon and crossed the room, splaying his hand over her abdomen. Her stomach bulged under his palm.
“Restless,” he said. He leaned down and kissed her bared stomach. “You will come out soon, but for now, rest.”
“Why are you so jumpy?” she asked.
He cupped her face and stroked the frown away from her mouth. “I am not jumpy. I just want to dance with my wife.”
“Then let me get dressed.”
Damian kissed Anna. She wound her arms around his neck, but her belly made it difficult to get close. She was much shorter than he, and the babies protested the crowding. They kicked and squirmed, and Damian pulled back, laughing.
�
��The Goddess has truly blessed us,” he said, “and tonight, we will celebrate those blessings.”
“The full-bloods and the Roma are at peace,” said Anna. “We are truly becoming one people.”
“Yes,” he said. “What we’ve created here is a good thing.”
“It’s too bad the humans continue to war,” she said. “Do you think they will discover us?”
“Nein,” said Damian. “Protections are in place. We are not part of their world.”
“I have heard terrible things,” she said softly. “I wish the whole business was done.”
“I was raised in America,” said Damian. “They are strong people. They will win.”
Anna looked uncertain, and Damian’s felt some inadequate. He always felt that way with her. She was fragile, always had been. She was soft-spoken, and kind-hearted. She could fight, just like all the lycans could, but she preferred discussion over fighting.
“Go on,” she said. “I’ll be ready in a minute.”
“That means an hour.”
“Shoo!”
He left the room, smiling. He couldn’t stop smiling, not since Anna confirmed her pregnancy. Still, the High Priestess’s warning made foreboding claw at his guts. He would call Reiner and discuss their security plans. Maybe they could tighten patrols. He had no worries that the war being fought by the humans would spill into their village. They were protected, by spells, by warriors, by the Goddess herself.
No. Nothing would happen to them. An era of peace between the packs had unfolded, one he intended to keep.
The Roma and the full-bloods were one people, and would remain so. Damian stepped outside and looked at the bright, full moon. It was tinged red, just as Alaya predicted. He refused to believe that anything bad would happen on this night.
“Protect us, Goddess,” prayed Damian. “Protect her.”
#
The celebration was in full swing. Even High Priestess Alaya was dancing, her color high as she swung around the pavilion in the muscular arms of Darrius.
“You are lovely,” he said. His eyes suggested he wanted to kiss her, but the public place, and her public position, forbade such an intimacy.
“You shouldn’t look at a high priestess that way,” she said, laughing. “I believe you are violating the fourth sin listed in the Goddess Accords.
“Ah, yes. ‘And look not upon the maiden with lust, lest the essence of Tark take control. Let always the heart of your goddess whisper your choices.’”
“Very good,” said Alaya. “I’ve never known you to read, Darrius, much less study the religious scriptures.”
“Maybe I had a reason.”
“To impress the high priestess?”
Darrius twirled her, and she easily handled the moment, spinning back to land more securely in his arms.
“To impress the woman I want for my wife.”
Alaya blinked, her smile falling into an “O” of shock.
“Darrius. You know the duty to my goddess comes even before the bond of a husband. And you are not … blessed with patience. Nor do you share well with others.”
“Is that a no, Alaya?”
She stared at him, and still he danced. She followed his movements effortlessly. She’d known him her whole life, him and his brothers. She knew Darrius nearly as well as her own calling. She was destined to be a priestess. Her gift had been bestowed by the Goddess to help the lycanthropes—
no matter what form they took—find peace with each other.
“Your happiness is my happiness,” said Darrius. “If serving the Goddess is what your heart wants, how can I want any less for you?”
“But the throne…”
“Will never be mine. I was third born. If I were to follow the destiny of the youngest brother, I would end up serving the goddess as well. I much prefer marrying a beautiful priestess than entering into the priesthood. Those guys never have any fun.”
“Your brothers would no more turn you out than … than … the moon is made of cheese,” she said, laughing. Then she met his gaze and said, “Yes. Yes, I will marry you.”
Darrius shouted, gripping her waist and swinging her around and around. “This woman will be my wife!” he yelled. And then he laid a kiss on her, claimed her, and melted her to her very toes.
#
“Are you ready, Nefertiti?”
The caramel-skinned beauty shoved a silver blade into the sheath on her hip. “Yes, my lord.”
Koschei smiled. World War II had offered him an unexpected boon. The ruler of Germany’s fascination with werewolves and his obsession with power had created an opportunity. With the lycanthropes creating a singular pack, even to include the Roma, they were powerful. Already allies to the Ancients and to Ruadan’s tired refrain of peace and education to benefit all, it would be a blow to vampires as well. The most scattered and less focused everyone became, the easier it would be for Koschei to take their power. He’d been disappointed when his daughter refused to participate. She was the only light in his life, the only reminder left of the man he’d once been. He had sensed the distance growing between them, and knew there would come a time he could no longer ignore her disobedience to his wishes.
“Koschei?”
He shook off his thoughts and turned to the woman who’d been so useful to him. He knew Nerfertiti was attracted to his power, and she even hoped to mate with him.
He tried not to laugh in her face. She was a valuable component of his plan, hell with her weapons, and often used her considerable feminine wiles to get the job done.
“We will wait just a little longer,” he said, stroking his supplicant’s pretty face.
“Let me drink their beer and dance to their goddess, and get so very, very relaxed. You know who you must get to first?”
“Anna,” she said. “The Roma wife to the Crown Prince.” She smiled. “And we will be paid for our services?”
“Oh, yes. Lots of money. You will get many baubles, I promise.”
Her eyes flared with greed, an emotion Koschei knew well. But patience had always ruled him. And it would serve him now. They only needed to wait a little while longer…
#
“Koshei,” said Damian. “You honor us.”
The Ancient vampire nodded; his smile too thin to be friendly. Damian didn’t take offense. That had always been the Russian’s way.
“I couldn’t resist visiting your new village,” said Koschei. “Ruadan is very impressed with your efforts to create a pack with the Roma.”
“We are all the children of the Moon Goddess,” said Damian. He picked up the mug of beer from the table crammed with every type of lager available. The music played—happy tunes that encouraged dancing and laughter. He knew better than to offer the vampire anything to drink.
Though there had long been a pact between the Ancients and the lycans that forbid vampires to imbibe on werewolf blood, he didn’t want to issue an invitation Koschei might misconstrue.
“It is the Moon Goddess Festival tonight?” asked Koschei looking around with interest.
Damian nodded, recalling Alaya’s warning about blood on the moon. Was it a coincidence that Koschei had picked tonight to visit? Damian looked up at the bright, full moon. Was it just his imagination or was that a red edge around its white glow?
“How is your wife?” asked Koschei. “The babies are well?”
“She’s wonderful, and so are the babes.” Not even the vampire’s dour manner could erase Damian’s grin. “In fact, I should get back to my wife. We will talk later, old friend.”
Koschei nodded. “Of course.”
Damian drained the beer and put the empty mug onto the table. Foreboding pitted his belly. He didn’t know if it was Alaya’s warning, or Koschei’s cold presence, but he’d be a fool to ignore his instincts. Why hadn’t he listened to Alaya? At least he could’ve seen his wife to safety, and warned his men to be prepared.
Damian stopped at the circle of dancers, looking for his wife, who’d been s
wept off by Reiner. He worried about how tired she’d be, and if her feet were hurting. She was strong, but still … the next generation of their kind lived in her womb.
He couldn’t fail her. Or his pack.
He stepped through a gap in the twirling people, his gaze bouncing from man to man, trying to find the blonde head of his friend. Reiner was tall, much taller than Anna, and easier to find. Damian felt his chest get tighter and tighter, and had unsnapped his pistol before he could determine the source of his worry.
Then the world exploded.
The music and laughter just seconds before gave way screams and noise.
“Anna!” Damian held on to his gun and wound through the terrified crowd. Even as he looked for his wife, he noted his warriors getting the injured and the children to safety. Others were fighting, but Damian couldn’t determine the enemy.
He saw Alaya fighting, using the blades that she’d been training with since she was young. Smoke rolled over the melee. His gaze caught Koschei by the beer table, which had been overturned. The fermented smell of the beer mixed with ashy air. The Ancient was using his mind mojo to drive off attackers.
More smoke filled the air, and flames flickered in the distance. Houses were on fire. As he ran toward his own home at the edge of the square, he saw the fires reach the pines. Damn it.
“Damian!” He stopped and turned. Reiner, smoke stained and bloodied, ran toward him.
“We’re taking the children to the secure location.”
“Thank you.” Damian clapped him on the shoulder. “Is Anna with them?”
Reiner shook his head. “Lettie saw her go toward your house.”
“I’ll meet you in the woods,” said Damian. He unholstered his gun and ran toward his home. The minute he opened the front door, he knew something was wrong.
“Anna!” Dread poured through him. Why had she returned here?
Broken Heart Tails (Broken Heart Vampires) Page 14