Gwyneth stood, hands on her hips, glaring at the now unconscious man. “That’s what you get for fighting in my bar!”
“Damn, woman. You swing a mean bottle.” Reno Smith’s voice sounded from the side and Dante swung his gaze to see Reno standing a few feet away.
“Not the first time I’ve had to do it.” Gwyn knelt beside Damien. “I was going to hex him but they were moving too quickly for me to get a good aim.” She checked his head. “He’s fine, just unconscious. It’s hard to damage a Lycan, especially one this hard-headed.”
Dante leaned forward panting, his hands on his knees, bracing himself. A mirror was hanging drunkenly on the wall opposite him and he caught a glimpse of himself. His lip was swollen, one eye already turning black, streaks of blood from a myriad of tiny cuts. Slowly he stood up, feeling various aches and pains beginning to make their presence known.
“What’s going on?” Reno looked about the room. “Besides a fight, I mean.” He let out a low whistle. “You two did a fine job of trashing this place.”
Dante checked out his surroundings and winced. Broken tables and chairs, glass everywhere. “I’m sorry, Gwyneth. I’ll pay for the damage.”
“We’ll discuss it later. I’ll close the bar tonight, call Rudy to organize a few staff to come in to clean. In the meantime,” she nodded towards Damien, “take him home. I’ll be there soon and we’ll remove the curse.”
“Curse?” Reno inquired, looking bewildered.
“I’ll explain on the way.” Dante used the edge of his shirt to wipe his face.
“Here.” Gwyneth moved to hand Dante a wine bottle and then stopped. “No, you were all I don’t want to hurt my son while your son was clearly out for your blood.” She shook her head and gave the bottle to Reno instead. “If he wakes up in the car, hit him with this.”
Sam opened the door of the pack house and gasped at the sight of Reno and Dante dragging an unconscious Damien up the steps. Reno appeared fine, but the other two had definitely been in a fight.
“Take him upstairs to our bedroom.” She shut the door and then hurried up the stairs behind them.
“What happened?” Brandi appeared from the direction of the kitchen and followed them upstairs.
“I’d like to say we had an amicable father-son discussion but I don’t think you’d believe me.” Dante eased Damien’s head down on the pillow and then stepped back to make room for Sam.
“When I arrived at Mystique, they were beating the crap out of each other,” Reno added as he yanked off Damien’s boot. “Gwyneth put a stop to it before I could step in.”
“I can guess how she stopped it.” She gently felt the lump on Damien’s head. “Thank you for bringing him home. I don’t know what’s going on with him. It’s like he’s a changed man.”
Dante took a deep breath. “Let me see if I can explain.”
Sam listened to the long and convoluted tale, taking the damp cloth Brandi gave her and wiping down Damien’s face, then unbuttoning his shirt and loosening his belt so he’d be more comfortable.
“…and that is how we’ve come to this point.” Dante finished his recount, looking weary.
“Quite the story of cause and effect.” Sam rubbed her hands over her stomach.
Dante nodded. “Gwyneth and Tomas set a cascade of events into motion that’s lasted generations.”
“History repeating itself over and over,” Reno murmured. “Carlotta was murdered, Beth was murdered. The men who loved them seeking revenge.”
Sam nodded. “Cyrus was planning on killing me but we foiled that plan.”
“So the curse began to work on Damien,” Dante added.
“And if we don’t end it today, your child’s life will be plagued as well,” Gwyn appeared in the doorway.
“My baby?” Sam wrapped her arms protectively around the unborn child.
Gwyn nodded. “It’s a generational curse. An exceptionally strong one given the phase of the moon when it was first uttered.”
“Until the curse is removed, any future children Damien sires will be in danger.” Dante explained. “The child you carry is already its own person so the curse has already been passed on to it.”
“Is it dangerous?” Sam felt fear fluttering within her. “Maybe we should wait until the baby is born.”
“The danger is if we do wait.” Dante shook his head. “There’s a high mortality rate in our family. Stillborn babies, mothers dying in childbirth.”
“I’m not sure...” Sam frowned as doubts began to fill her.
“To the best of my knowledge, there are no complications associated with the procedure.” Gwyn assured. “Once the curse is removed, you should experience an extra sense of well-being.”
“Your concerns could very well be the curse trying to protect itself,” Dante cautioned. “In some respects, it’s like a living thing. Once it senses it is in danger, it will fight for survival.”
Sam took a deep breath and eased down to sit on the bed beside Damien. She stared down at his now peaceful face, thinking of the torment it had carried earlier in the day, of the baby he’d already lost, of the insecurities that had plagued her these past few months. “All right. What do we do?”
“Just sit there as you are. The rest of you step back please.” Gwyn lifted her arms, hands spread out towards where Damien lay. As she murmured the spell, a sense of power seemed to radiate from her like the warmth of the sun, filling the room with light and warmth.
Sam slid her hand along the bed until she found Damien’s and laced their fingers together. At first his hand was cool and limp but slowly it warmed in her grip, then his fingers twitched, curling around, until he held onto her hand tightly.
She closed her eyes, focusing on the waves of peace and happiness filling her. The barrier to their blood-bond was dissolving, the restless anger fading until all she felt was waves of love encompassing her in a warm embrace. Tears began to spill down her cheeks and then she was pressed to Damien’s chest, her face buried in the crook of his neck, his scent filling her with every breath she took.
“It’s okay, sugar. It’s okay.” He rocked her tenderly and she melted against him, releasing all the tension and uncertainty that had filled her the past few months.
Her mate loved her.
She was going to be a mom.
Everything was going to be okay.
Reno, Brandi and Dante stood in the hallway as Gwyn worked to remove the curse. Dante had worry lines on his face, interspersed with various bruises and cuts. His shirt had a smear of blood on it and the sleeve was partially torn off.
“You know, Dante,” Reno leaned back against the wall, his arm around Brandi’s shoulders. “Higgins talked to me a while back. Wanted me to bring you in once the malefic witch was dealt with.”
“And?” Dante tensed.
“I had my reservations. Seemed to me that if you were working for Lycan Link, even in an unofficial capacity, throwing you under the bus wasn’t fair.”
Dante turned to check on Gwyneth. “But life’s seldom fair.”
“Sadly, that’s true,” Brandi murmured, her eyes fixed on the proceedings in the room across the hall.
Reno gave Dante a sideways look. “But I always felt it should be.”
“Idealists don’t get far.” Dante shoved his hands in his back pockets.
“But they can live with themselves.”
Dante nodded. “So, what are you going to do?”
“Nothing. As far as I’m concerned, you’re free to go. I don’t know everything you’ve done in your life and I don’t want to know. You had your reasons. Lycan Link turned a blind eye when it suited them. It’s not playing the game fair if they suddenly change the rules.”
Brandi squeezed his arm in approval.
“Thanks.” Dante gave a quick nod.
“The thing is,” Reno continued the conversation, “they might ask Damien to go after you if you’re in his territory.”
“And you’d prefer I leave so he doesn’t
have to make the decision of whether to track down his father or not.” Dante looked him directly in the eye.
“That’s about it.” Reno met his gaze.
“Understood.” Dante turned his eyes back to Gwyneth. “I’ll make sure Damien isn’t faced with that choice.”
Chapter 35
Dante smiled, content to feel Gwyneth leaning against him. They were in a taxi headed to his hotel. He’d convinced her they needed to talk, that once back at the club, those cleaning up the evidence of the fight would ask her questions and interrupt the important discussion they needed to have.
It’s good to have the witch with us. His wolf looked at Gwyneth fondly.
He nodded in agreement.
Will we keep her as a mate?
“Right to the point, aren’t you, old boy?”
There is no point avoiding the topic. The wolf gave him a level look. She is good for you.
“But what about you?” He mentally scratched the wolf’s neck the way he liked it. “You’ll be alone.”
As long as I have you, I will be content. The wolf leaned against him. Besides, her cat will keep me entertained. It is a curious creature.
Dante chuckled. “Well, before we make too many plans, I’ll need to ask her if she’ll have us.”
She will.
“That confident, are you?”
You are the one that always says attitude is everything.
“True.”
Satisfied that it had made its point, the wolf subsided.
Dante leaned his head back against the seat. Yes, if Gwyneth would have him, he’d be content to spend the rest of his life with her. How he’d broach the subject, he wasn’t quite sure though.
He glanced down noticing her eyes were shut, her lashes fanned out over her cheeks. She seemed tired, as if removing the curse had taken a lot out of her. Maybe it had; he had little understanding of the impact of performing magic on a witch’s physical well-being.
She stirred beside him, giving a yawn and then sitting up. “Sorry, I dozed off.”
“Only for ten minutes. A catnap.”
She stretched and rubbed her eyes. “Looks like we’re almost at your place.”
“Yep.” He removed his arm from her shoulders.
The taxi stopped in front of the hotel and they exited. Dante put his hand in the small of Gwyneth’s back, gently guiding her across the lobby and into the elevator.
“I don’t need help,” she murmured.
“But I enjoy doing it.” He gave a crooked grin. “Call it my old-world charm.”
She made a noncommittal sound. “I suppose it’s okay.”
“Thank you.” The door of the elevator closed and he slid her a look. “Is it difficult? Performing magic?”
She shrugged. “It depends on what kind of magic you’re talking about. Boiling water, opening a door; that’s nothing.”
“But bigger tasks like removing that curse are harder.”
“Yes. To those watching it might seem like nothing but internally the witch is conveying energy from herself and the world around her. Performing several large acts of magic in a row can be very tiring.”
“That makes sense.” He nodded, thinking back to the night Carlotta had died, yet he and Damien had survived. Cyrus’ energy level must have been drained at that point. Someday, he’d ask Gwyneth about his theory but not tonight.
The elevator door slid open and they made their way to his room. After unlocking the door, he opened it cautiously, head cocked to the side listening and scenting the air before giving a nod and stepping aside so Gwyneth could enter.
“Expecting an ambush?”
“It’s happened before. A bit of caution never hurts.”
He walked to the mini-bar as she sat on the edge of the bed. “Would you like a drink? There’s soda or juice. Or, if you’d like something stronger, I can share my private stock with you.”
“You have a private stock? I’m intrigued.”
He opened the closet and reached up towards the shelf. “When I didn’t think I’d get to sample your private stock I bought my own.” He exited the space, holding up a half-empty bottle of Rémy Martin.
“An excellent choice.”
“I only share it with my friends.”
She smiled. “And am I one of your friends?”
“I’d like to think so.” He splashed some cognac into two glasses. “Sorry, there’s only standard issue hotel glasses.” He grimaced as he passed her the beverage.
“I’m not that fussy.”
He raised his glass. “What should we drink to? The end of my search for the malefic witch? The eradication of the family curse?”
“What about…new beginnings?” She caught his gaze and smiled.
“New beginnings?” He paused, searching her face. “What exactly does that pertain to?”
“Us.”
“Ah. That sounds…promising.”
They clinked glasses and sipped at their drinks in companionable silence. When they were finished, he took her glass and set it down beside his own on the nightstand, then drew her into his arms.
“I’m attracted to you, Gwyneth.”
“And I’m attracted to you, too.”
“Last time we tried this, it didn’t end well.”
She looked up at him through her lashes. “I promise to watch my language.”
He smiled as she’d intended him to but when she moved to kiss him, he stopped her.
“It’s not just the language, Gwyneth.”
“I know.”
“I want this to mean something. I care about you.” He cupped her face. “I want to share myself with you, get to know you better and not just physically.”
She turned her face to press a kiss to his palm. “I feel the same way.”
He smiled and drew her close, kissing her slowly, softly before tracing the seam of her lips, asking for something deeper. She opened to him and their tongues touched, explored, learned the taste of each other as the heat of passion slowly grew into an undeniable need.
He trailed his hands down her back to the edge of her shirt then worked his hands beneath the hem. Warm, smooth skin met his questing palms.
She mimicked his actions, tracing the indent of his spine, causing him to shiver. When he would have eased them down on the mattress, she shifted her weight so she was on top, his back pressed to the mattress.
“I get to go first.” She smiled down at him, a mischievous sparkle in her eye that jacked his arousal up a level. With excruciating slowness, she began to undo his buttons. “You seem to go through a lot of shirts,” she commented. “Good thing Sam let you borrow one of Damien’s.”
“Feel free to rip it off me, if you want. I doubt Damien will want it back after I’ve worn it.”
The dark humour made Gwyneth pause, her hands resting on his chest. “He’ll come around eventually.”
“Perhaps.” He gave a sad smile then reached up to twirl one of her curls around his finger. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”
She leaned forwards and pressed a kiss over his heart. “You didn’t, but even if you did I know multiple ways of rekindling it.”
“Multiple?”
“You don’t live as long as I have without learning a few tricks.”
He grinned. “I can’t wait for a demonstration.”
“Your talents are…commendable.” Dante looked at the woman beside him. Her eyes were closed, a flush stained her white skin, her parted lips were plump and red.
“I’m glad you approve.” She opened one eye to look at him.
“And you’re gorgeous.”
She gave a derisive laugh. “I’m interesting. Unique. Even fascinating at times, but gorgeous? No.”
He rolled on to his side, “I know what I like. Lithe, muscular.” He brushed his knuckles across her shoulder then moved his hand up to cup her face. “Smooth, white skin. Soft, sweet lips.” He leaned closer.
“You’re a lying devil,” she murmured against
his mouth.
He kissed her softly, gently. “A connoisseur.” He paused and looked deep into her eyes. “Of all things fine and rare.”
“Okay. I’ll believe you.”
“You’re conceding without an argument?”
“Don’t get used to it.” She reached up and pulled him closer her hands drifting across his shoulders only to pause and stroke one spot. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“I bit you.”
“It’s okay. I bit you, too.”
“What?” The remark was like cold water on the happy haze that had surrounded her. He bit her! She abruptly pushed him off her and sat up, her hand going to her neck. The skin felt tender and, when she checked her fingers, there was a streak of blood. “Did you just try to blood-bond with me?” She glared at him.
“You bit me,” he pointed out. “It had an effect on me but I managed to hold back and only give you a nip.”
“Oh.” Surprisingly, she felt a twinge of disappointment.
“I’d never do that without you being fully aware.” He pulled her down and tucked her to his side.
She exhaled slowly, deciding to leave the topic for now. Dante’s fingers were idly twirling strands of her hair, the gentle tugging sensation soothing.
“Who’d have thought it would come to this?” The sound of his voice, a mixture of husky and raspy filled her with contentment.
“This?”
“You and me.” He rolled over and, propping himself up on his elbow, looked down at her. “My many times over great grandfather deceived you, your grandmother cursed my family and now we’ve come full circle.”
“Tomas was a bastard.” She said the words without emotion. The pain of his betrayal had faded long ago.
“So am I at times. Must be in the genes.”
“Must be.” She reached up and brushed her knuckles over his cheek.
He eased down and kissed her tenderly. “That’s what I like about you. You don’t pull your punches.”
Wolves, Witches and Bears...Oh My! Page 69