Wolves, Witches and Bears...Oh My!

by Nicky Charles

  “I’m a cold, unfeeling witch, remember?”

  “How could I forget?” He murmured the words against her lips while sliding his hand down the length of her body and then up again to cup her breast.

  She nipped his lip, then laughed at his affronted look.

  He chuckled as well and tucked her close once again, resting his chin on top of her head. Silence followed, the companionable kind that occurred between those in tune with each other. Gwyn idly pleated the bedsheet. Her earlier contentment in the afterglow of sex had faded leaving an unfamiliar disquiet. She tried to analyze it but before she could, a question slipped from her lips.

  “What will you do with yourself now?”

  “I’ve no idea. Stay with you perhaps.”

  Her fingers stilled on the sheet. He wasn’t asking. He was telling. “That’s brave of you. I’m not an easy person to live with.”

  “I’m willing to chance it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love you.” His tone was light. Casual.

  She sat up, staring at him in shock. “Why?”

  He folded his arms behind his head and gave a crooked smile. “Because you glare at a person when they say they love you. Because you’re spirited and can banter with me. You’re loyal to your friends. And because you’re not as tough inside as you appear on the outside.”

  She opened her mouth to deny his statement but he pressed a finger to her lips.

  “I know the truth no matter what you say.” He stroked her cheek, then his finger trailed along her jaw, down her throat and finally traced the scar over her heart. “Your scar is different.”

  She shifted knowing the moment of truth had come.

  “It used to be like a crescent moon and now it’s more heart-shaped.”

  “Crescent moons reversed and facing each other form a heart.”

  He sat up. “Gwyneth, what did you do?”

  “I was thinking about what you said. That not all walls are meant to last for eternity.” She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I decided it was time to start living again. I reversed the blood spell so time was restored.

  “Wasn’t that risky? If time was restored, you could have disintegrated into dust.”

  “But I didn’t. Except for being a bit tired, there were no ill effects.”

  “But what if there had been?”

  “I thought of that. I asked Matt to take care of Sherman. I left you a note in the cellar explaining. My collection was bequeathed to you, by the way. I figured you’d appreciate them.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the contents of your wine cellar.” He threw back the covers and began to pace the room, oblivious to his naked state, anger radiating from him. “How dare you try something like that without telling me?”

  “How dare I? I didn’t realize you were my keeper.”

  “I love you. That gives me some say in what goes on in your life. What if you’d died? Did you stop to think how I’d feel?”

  She pressed her lips together and looked away. “I didn’t want our relationship to be like the one I had with Sven.”

  “Your tattoo? I thought you said you had a great relationship with it? And what the hell does that have to do with us?”

  “Not Sven the tat, Sven the man.”

  He folded his arms. “Explain.”

  “I knew you cared for me. If we continued as we were, it would be like Sven all over again. He loved me but I was unable to return the emotion. We stayed together, but I’d selfishly condemned him to a one-sided relationship.” She stood up and wrapped the sheet around herself, then walked over to the window to look outside. “At the time, a long life and guarding against being hurt had been more important to me than Sven’s feelings. Independence, keeping my pride intact; I believed those were the keys to happiness but I was deceiving myself. The supposed key was a cage, locking up both myself and anyone foolish enough to care for me.” She turned to face Dante. “I couldn’t do that to you.”

  “Gwyneth,” He walked to where she stood and pulled her close. “I was ready to love you, to stay with you, even if you never said the words back.”

  “But I want to say them.” She stepped back, took his hands in hers and considered his eyes. A nervous quivering filled her, a moment of doubt as if a voice inside were trying to warn her. He’s an accomplished liar. He says he loves you but can you trust his word? What if he’s just like Tomas?

  No. She shook her head. Dante was nothing like Tomas. She took a deep breath, then another. Her heart began to race. “I…” Her mouth went dry, her lips balking at forming the words she wanted to say. “Dante, I…”

  “You can do it, Gwyneth.” He nodded his encouragement, a sense of expectant hope about him.

  She wet her lips and finally spoke the words. “Dante Salazar, I love you.”

  “Gwyneth, you’ve made me the happiest of men.” He smiled at her, his love shining from his eyes.

  She reached out and stroked his cheek with her thumb, then pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “I really love you.”

  Pain as sharp as a knife ripped through her. She staggered back grabbing her chest, gasping for breath.

  “Gwyneth? Gwyn!” Dante reached for her.

  “I…” The room began to spin. Heat seared through her. “I love you.”

  “No!” He grabbed her shoulders but she could barely feel his touch through the agony that wracked her body.

  She blinked, sweat beading on her brow and dripping into her eyes. “I do. I love you. I—” Her throat grew tight.

  “No! Take it back. I don’t care if you can’t love me back. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I can’t.” Her legs gave out and she fell back on the bed. “This shouldn’t be happening.” She panted through the pain. “I reversed the spell.”

  Dante stared wildly about the room, his brow furrowed, then snapped his eyes back to her. “The generational curse. You removed it from Damien and the baby but you didn’t remove it from me.”

  The curse? She’d forgotten that.

  The voice in her head began to speak again. That’s the only reason he said he loved you. He wanted the curse gone. It’s another of his deceitful games.

  He didn’t love her? A wave of doubt washed over her but it was too late now. Tears welled in her eyes and she let them fall. It was too late for pride.

  “Gwyneth! Remove the curse. Remove it now!” He shook her, his voice rough, demanding.

  Let him suffer for his deceit, the voice urged.

  No, she loved him too much for that. But how to remove the curse…? It was hard to think through the pain.

  “I remove the curse once.” She struggled to say the words, her lips not wanting to move, the voice in her head demanding she not speak. “I remove the curse twice.”

  Something warm and sticky seemed to be seeping from her chest. She tried to look, to see if she was bleeding.

  “Finish it, Gwyn!” He was yelling at her now. “Finish it!”

  His anger hurt her more than the physical pain she now endured. “Thrice I…” She arched her back in agony.

  “Gwyneth! You need to say all the words.” His fingers bit into her flesh.

  “I…remove it.” Her vision faded, darkness encroached. “Be happy, Dante.” She mumbled the words and then succumbed.

  Being dead wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. She lay on something soft. Someone was bathing her brow. Yeah, she could handle this.

  “Grow old with me?”

  The words tickled her ear and she frowned.

  “Grow old with me, Gwyneth?”

  She batted her hand randomly at the annoying voice that had disturbed her rest. She felt odd. Too hot. Was she in Hell? It was a possibility as she’d certainly never been a candidate for Heaven. Her mouth felt dry and she swallowed with difficulty. “I want a drink.”

  A soft husky laugh sounded nearby. “That’s my girl. No romantic words or thanks for saving you. Just ‘I want a drink’.”

 
She forced her eyes open. Dante was sitting beside her. “What are you talking about?”

  “I saved your life. The least you could do is give me a word of thanks.”

  She pushed herself up into a sitting position. “You did not save my life.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “I gave up my life by admitting I loved you.” She scowled. “Stupidest move I’ve made in centuries.”

  “No. Forgetting to uncurse me was your stupidest move.”

  “My brain is working in low gear right now. Explain please.”

  “When you said you loved me, you made me the happiest man on Earth. However, because of the curse I’m not allowed to be happy. Your death would make me very unhappy and so that’s what began to happen. If you hadn’t removed the curse in time, it would have killed you.”

  “Oh. Okay, that makes sense.” She pushed herself up in bed and then recalled the pain she’d been experiencing. A glance downward revealed no blood, just the now heart-shaped scar.

  Dante rose to his feet and walked to the adjoining bathroom. She could hear running water and a minute later he returned with a glass of water.

  “Here.”

  “Thanks.” She took a drink. “You know, the craziest thoughts were running through my head when I was dying.”

  “What kind of thoughts?” He sat down beside her.

  “That you’d lied to me. That you only said you loved me to get me to remove the curse.” She looked up at him. “That I should leave the curse on you so you would continue to suffer.”

  “It sounds like the curse talking, trying to save itself.”

  “It was very insistent. I could hardly think.”

  “Why didn’t you listen to it?”

  “Because,” she reached out and placed her hand on his chest. “I lo—” She paused, doing a quick mental check for any pain or weird voices. Everything seemed normal so she continued. “I love you and I couldn’t bear the thought of you continuing to live with the curse. You’ve lost so much already. You deserve some happiness now.”

  “You know, I was scared shitless. If something happened to you, I don’t think I would want to continue on.” He settled beside her on the bed and then pulled the covers up around them, cocooning them in warmth.

  For a while they lay like that, murmuring endearments, enjoying the simple pleasure of being near each other.

  Dante was drifting off to sleep when his phone rang. Grumbling, he rolled over and picked up the device from the bedside table, checking to see who the caller was.

  “Smith? What’s up?” He listened for a minute. “You don’t say? Well thanks for letting me know.”

  He set the phone back on the table and folded his arms behind his head, smiling.

  “What was that about?” Gwyneth blinked at him sleepily.

  “Smith was letting me know that a certain insurance policy I had just paid off.”

  She pushed herself up on her elbow. “Insurance policy?”

  “Yeah, the director of Lycan Link, Higgins, wanted Reno to bring me in and throw me in detention. When Reno checked his messages, he found one from Higgins retracting the request. And, to everyone’s shock, Higgins also abruptly handed in his resignation and left Lycan Link.”

  “That seems unusual. You’d think he’d stay until a replacement was found.”

  “You’d think.”

  “And what does that have to do with insurance?”

  “Higgins was a bastard and sucked at his job. I…er…might have had something to do with his leaving.”

  Gwyn looked at him for a minute. “Why do I suspect that you are a man of secrets with hidden depths.”

  “Because you’re very perceptive?”

  She laughed and brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I think I’m going to enjoy discovering your secrets.”

  “And exploring my hidden depths. Don’t forget those.” He grinned at her.

  She leaned down to kiss him, her hand slipping below the covers. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll never forget your…hidden depths.”

  Epilogue

  Gwyn adjusted the neckline of her dress and thought longingly for her standard jeans and tank top.

  “You look beautiful.” Dante stood behind her, staring at his bride-to-be in the mirror. “Exactly how I imagined.”

  She studied her image and had to concede it was a lovely gown. A period piece, the low-cut neckline was square and edged with brocade and beading as were the long bell sleeves. A V-shaped corset hugged her figure while the layered trailing skirt floated gracefully to the ground. It was cream and gold as she’d insisted white was totally inappropriate given her age.

  “It’s a testament to how much I love you that I’m going through with this,” she groused.

  “I’ll make sure you are properly rewarded for the sacrifice.” He nuzzled her neck.

  Dante had insisted they were properly wed rather than just ‘shacking up’, even the fact it would take several months to plan not deterring him. He’d called in favours, twisted a few arms and had managed to pull the affair together in only three months.

  The wedding was taking place at the Chicago pack house, much to Camille’s dismay. The Magissa had felt it was her place to coordinate the event. Thankfully Dante had convinced her otherwise.

  “I have something for you.” Dante spoke, drawing her attention back to the present.

  “What’s that?”

  “Close your eyes.”

  She gave him a wary look and then complied. Something cool touched her chest and then her neck.

  “Okay, you can look now.”

  She opened her eyes and saw the black opal pendant he’d given her for her birthday. “You kept it?” Her eyes met his in the mirror.

  “Of course. It was meant for you.” He pressed a kiss to her nape. “I’ve been fantasizing about seeing you wearing this. I can’t wait until you’re lying in my bed with nothing else on except this opal.”

  “Well, you’ll have to be patient.” She angled her head as he moved to kiss the cord of her neck. “Unless you want to cancel this whole show.”

  “Nice try.” He left off nibbling her neck. “We are going to have a proper ceremony.”

  “It was worth a shot.”

  He growled a warning. “Behave. I’m going to check on the food.”

  She shook her head as he left still amazed he’d coordinated everything so quickly. It was supposed to be a simple, yet elegant affair. However, with the Chicago pack, the staff of Club Mystique, some of the Coven members, Reno and Brandi all in attendance, the number of guests had swelled beyond the small gathering she’d originally imagined.

  Sam entered the room, a frown marring her brow. As the local Alpha, she was going to help perform the ceremony. Damien had refused but was at least in attendance. The relationship between father and son was still chilly. Gwyn had hopes that one day they could at least be friends for Dante’s sake; it meant a lot to him as Damien was the only family he had.

  “Has Camille arrived yet?” Sam rubbed her belly absentmindedly. “We’ve agreed to share the officiating but we still need to hash out which ceremony will be done first.”

  “I’ve not seen her yet,” Gwyn held out her arm. “Sam, don’t you think these sleeves will be in the way when you have to bind my wrist to Dante’s?”

  “I’ll work around it.” Sam fingered the brocade edging on the sleeve. “This really is a lovely dress.”

  “As long as you don’t have to wear it.”

  “Tina told me she thought it looked divine and I’m supposed to take lots of pictures of you in it.”

  “Yes, she appreciates this kind of thing.” Gwyn twitched the skirt. “She and Stone are on an assignment of some sort but hope to be done in time so they can be here for your pup’s naming ceremony.”

  “Right.” Sam pursed her lips and frowned, then fixed her with a hard stare. “I have a question. A witch question.”

  Gwyn gave up fussing with the dress and focused on
Sam. “Yes?”

  “When Dante, Matt and I were in the cell, I was able to get us out using that magic spell. I don’t understand how that was possible. I don’t have that much witch blood in me.”

  “I suspect several factors came into play.” Gwyn eased herself down so she was sitting on the edge of the dresser. “First of all, you were attempting a spell from your family grimoire; that greatly increases the chance of success. Secondly, your pregnancy came into play. All sorts of hormonal changes are taking place within you. Combine that with your protective instincts surging due to the impending danger and you have a perfect cocktail for augmenting latent magical abilities.”

  Sam frowned. “In other words, I’m not turning into a witch. It was a one-off occurrence because I’m pregnant.”

  “Basically.”

  “And it’s not likely to happen again?”

  “Unless a similar set of circumstance occurred, I’d say the chance is minimal.”

  “Good.” Sam gave a decisive nod. “Nothing personal, but turning into a witch is the last thing I need. Being Alpha is enough to worry about.”

  “Understood.” Gwyn glanced out the window. “I believe I see Camille driving up right now.”

  Sam looked out the window. “Good. I think she’s been avoiding me. Every time I’ve called to discuss this, she’s was too busy to talk.

  “Good luck dealing with her,” Gwyn said. “She’s not the easiest person to get along with.”

  “She might be a witch, but I’m a bitch,” Sam quipped as she left the room.

  Reno stood on the porch of the pack house waiting for Brandi. She’d gone inside to use the washroom some time ago but hadn’t returned yet. He didn’t want to rush her but the ceremony would be starting soon, people already taking their seats under the large tent that had been erected for the event. A glance at his watch had him heading inside to find his missing mate.

  The house was a rambling structure filled with a curious mix of antiques and comfortable casual furnishings. Damien had said he and Sam were slowly trying to update the place as money allowed. Already the kitchen had been renovated and a room prepared for the soon-to-arrive pup. Brandi had been chatting about the room for ages, showing him pictures that Sam had sent. Most likely she was upstairs right now, inspecting the place and had forgotten the time.