Shifters of the Wellsprings: The Complete Paranormal Collection

by Leela Ash

  Even hours later, in the boring, dusty safety of her attic, Hannah’s heart soared with giddy delight.

  She’d flown! Flown!

  Claws – sharp and terrible enough to tear a truck apart – had closed gently around her. Brandon’s precision was so perfect, so masterful. Not even a pinch to unnerve her. Then he had reared back, great wings unfurling above them. With a powerful leap, he threw the two of them into the air and carried them off with strong, unwavering beats.

  Yes, she’d felt some fear in that first moment. Looking down at the houses so far below them. Knowing she could die if he made one mistake. But she trusted him. His strength. His complete and utter self-control. He would never allow her to come to any harm.

  And so that brief moment passed, and she gave herself completely to the joys of Dragon flight. The feel of the wind rushing over her. The beat of his wings. Dipping and soaring as the gusts moved them.

  Nothing had prepared her for that. Nothing in her life had been so wondrous, so joyful.

  Well, except… that dream.

  Hannah stole a glance at Brandon, bent over the old survey maps. Should she tell him about it? How much she longed for him? Needed him?

  The memory of that passion woke a hunger inside her, which she struggled to ignore. What a ridiculous idea! She could never tell him she’d dreamed of him taking her in a mossy clearing. Claiming her body, her spirit, as his own.

  Besides, he was a Dragon. A Shifter. What interest could he possibly have in a mere human like her? Even back when she thought he was ‘just’ a New York City millionaire, she hadn’t dared to believe he might love her. Now? When she knew he was something far more powerful than any millionaire? No. It was hopeless. A Dragon could never love a simple farm girl like her.

  Or… could he? Brandon called her ‘Kindred.’ That meant that some Shifter, at some time, loved one of her ancestors. If that unknown grandmother could be so lucky, why not her?

  With a secret smile, she tucked that hope away in her heart. She’d dreamed once. She could dream, now, of even more.

  A clatter rang out from the kitchen downstairs. Mom, cooking. Her parents took having a Dragon land in their yard about as well as anyone could take that sort of thing. They were stunned, terrified, numb with shock. In the end, however, they couldn’t doubt the evidence of their own eyes. They, like her, were Kindred. Willful ignorance didn’t shield them from the truth. Mom had eventually invited Brandon to stay for supper, a downright hospitable offer in Hannah’s book. Dad even suggested he could eat one of the goats if he needed. Brandon assured him that no, pot roast would do just fine.

  “What are you smiling at?”

  She glanced up to find him studying her, not the maps. “Dad. And the goat.”

  “An… unusual offer.” A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Generous, if unnecessary.”

  “I was glad to hear that. I’m rather fond of our milk goats. If you had to… hey! Whiskey isn’t a Dutch word, is it?”

  “No. It’s Gaelic.”

  “Then why is it written on this old Dutch map?”

  Brandon stepped around the table and leaned over her shoulder. Her body stirred, came alive, painfully aware of his hot, masculine presence, pressing close. “It’s, um, here. In the woods just north of here,” she managed to say.

  “‘Whiskey’ is the shortened form of ‘water of life.’”

  Exactly like the green Wellspring he’d described!

  “We found it!” Hannah crowed with delight, then spun and threw her arms around his neck.

  Immediately, she froze. Heavens, what was she doing?!? She barely knew the man! Lulled by the false memories of that glorious, passionate dream, she was treating him like her lover – not a kind benefactor.

  She started to pull away, but he caught her arms and pulled her close again. Pressed tight against him, she felt his manhood awaken.

  Clearly, she wasn’t alone in her desire.

  “I’m sorry, I should have…”

  “Hush,” he commanded. To make sure she obeyed this time, he kissed her. On her lips, her cheek, her neck. Exploring her, even as he had in the dream. One hand slid up under her shirt. A strong finger slipped inside her bra, circling her nipple, teasing, and her body came alive under the touch. Answering his powerful, masculine need with a yearning of her own. Energy blazed within him, the fiery longing of his Dragon soul. Hannah thought it could burn her up, so fierce was his desire.

  Downstairs, the door bumped open. “Hannah?” her father yelled.

  Both she and Brandon jumped. For a moment, his eyes burned at the affront of this interruption. His Dragon did not care to be denied. But Brandon was the master of his own soul, an Alpha. He would never allow his draconic fury to overwhelm him.

  “Yes?” she called back, fighting desperately not to sound guilty. More from nerves than need, she brushed her dress straight.

  “Danny’s nurse called in sick. Could you lend me a hand with his bedding?”

  “Yes. Um, of course.”

  “Thanks.” He clomped off, leaving the door open.

  A frustrated silence descended. Once more, the budding flames of romance died.

  “I am so sorry,” she whispered.

  His broad, powerful hand caressed her cheek gently. “You have done nothing that requires an apology, my lady.”

  Hannah smiled at that old-fashioned word. And wished she believed him.

  Chapter 10

  The meal was stiff and strangely formal. Mom barely sat down at all. She buzzed about, serving people, popping in and out of the kitchen to check on a dessert that seemed to demand infinite attention. Hannah suspected she was hiding, trying to avoid their strange guest. She served Brandon awkwardly, bending forward to avoid touching the Dragon’s arm.

  Dad wasn’t much better. Food sat, ignored, on his plate and he clutched his fork. Strangely tense, as if he feared he might have to leap to his family’s defense at any moment. Whenever Brandon caught his eye, he realized how foolish he was being. He’d startle, look away, then shovel a great mound of food into his mouth and chew fiercely. But as soon as the Dragon’s gaze turned elsewhere, he lost interest in the meal and returned to his obsessive vigil.

  Still, Hannah didn’t think it went too badly. Her parents had been through a lot today. Few things in this world were crazier than discovering that Dragons existed… and oh, by the way, your daughter brought one home for dinner. And poor Mom hadn’t even seen Brandon Shift. How was she supposed to believe he was more than human? So, she forgave their clumsy attempts at courtesy and worked hard to keep talk flowing.

  Danny was her wingman. Lying in bed, the boy had missed their arrival and thought their guest nothing more than a rich businessman. Unburdened by the knowledge of his draconic soul, Danny saw what mortals saw: a rich, handsome man who radiated power and authority. Being Kindred like her, he might have sensed something more. If so, he gave no sign of it.

  Instead, he unleashed a torrent of questions. Did Brandon like football? Did he go to Giants’ games, or was he a Jets fan? What was the best restaurant in NYC? How much did a real Rolex cost? What was the most expensive wine he’d ever drunk?

  Her guest fielded these questions easily, with a cheerfulness that brought a fond smile to her face. She’d worried so much. He was a Dragon. A creature out of myth and legend. A millionaire who drank the finest wines and dined upon the most exquisite foods mankind could produce. What would he think of her, and her family? They must seem like hicks to someone as sophisticated as him. Dull country bumpkins full of boring, mindless chatter.

  A burst of hearty, masculine laughter popped that bubble of worry. Danny had just finished telling some story. Hannah had missed it, caught up in those old fears. But, clearly, it delighted Brandon.

  He didn’t despise them. He fit in with her family, with an ease that warmed her heart. Okay, the suit was a bit much. It intimidated both of her parents. Brandon looked like… well, like a Dragon sitting amongst a flock of
wood doves. Put him in a flannel shirt and jeans, however, and he could be one of them. And he was gracious. Some people stared at Danny’s wheelchair and his scars. Not Brandon. He never blinked, not even when Mom had to feed her son because he still couldn’t hold a fork steady.

  Thanks to LeMar. A pinprick of fury, small but fierce, blazed inside her. He’d pay for that. Pay for all the pain he’d inflicted on her family. Maybe she couldn’t beat him in a fight the way Brandon could. (For she was sure that, in a fair battle, the wingless Worm wouldn’t stand a chance against her majestic Dragon.) But she could figure out what LeMar wanted and make damned sure he didn’t get it!

  Brandon glanced out the window at the dark sky. As he turned, Danny caught Hannah’s eye and gave her a thumbs up. Like he thought his big sister had scored a really great boyfriend. She glared at him… then quickly wiped the look off her face as their guest returned his attention to the table. Danny smirked.

  “Sunset comes early this time of year,” he sighed. “I suggest we look for that spring in the morning.”

  She nodded, and he rose to his feet. “Mr. Stiles, is there a hotel nearby that you’d recommend?”

  Of course, her mother wouldn’t hear of that. No guest of hers had to stay at a motel! All that money wasted? No! Five minutes to change the sheets in the guest room was all it took and then Brandon agreed to spend the night.

  The thought of him, so near, and yet, untouchable, stirred a hunger in Hannah. Something she’d never felt about another man or boy. Later, when she withdrew to her own room, she prayed fiercely that she’d have another dream. Even if she couldn’t claim him in the real world, her nighttime fantasies could soothe the ache, the yearning that filled her.

  Sadly, it didn’t. Her night passed in dreamless sleep. When the sun peered over the eastern hills, she awoke. Rested – and frustrated. Breakfast was a cheerful affair. Brandon devoured stacks of pancakes and raved about the maple syrup, made from a stand of trees on the farm. For the most part, Hannah just pushed her food around the plate. Mom barely noticed. She was too delighted by Brandon’s greedy love for her cooking.

  Afterward, the two of them headed into the woods, compass in hand. They hiked through thick orange leaves, stripped from the trees by an early storm.

  “So, nothing about this ‘Whiskey Springs’ is familiar to you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I hiked these woods a lot as a girl, but I never found a spring.”

  “It’s probably dead then.”

  The thought of an enchanted spring delighted her. Why did he seem so cool, almost indifferent?

  Not, not indifferent, she realized. Hopeless. Whatever these Wellsprings were, they’d obviously meant a lot to the Dragons. Dead Wellsprings were uncommon, but not unknown. Certainly, Brandon told her, a dead spring was nothing to excite LeMar’s murderous greed. To her, the conclusion seemed obvious: The Wellspring wasn’t dead. She suspected, however, that her love didn’t dare hope for that much.

  They quickly arrived at the site marked on the map. Nothing was there. No springs, not even long dead ones, appeared as they circled the nearby woods. Not even Brandon’s dragon-sharp magical senses picked up any clues. “This was a waste of time,” he grumbled.

  “Hey, walking in the woods with you is never a waste of time!”

  Her teasing couldn’t shake the dark mood that had settled over him. “Let us return. There are other avenues I can investigate that may shed light on LeMar’s motivations. Before I leave, though, we need to revisit the issue of protection. You and your family aren’t safe here.”

  “Brandon.” She put a hand on his arm to stop his restless pacing. “Let’s spend another hour looking. It would be easy to miss a small pool in all these leaves.”

  He pulled away from her. “You don’t understand. If a Wellspring were near, I would know it. Even a dead one.”

  “So, these things can’t, well, hide? Or be hidden?”

  “Yes. Of course, they can.” He gave her a withering stare. “But such concealment requires magic. The Wellspring would need to be alive to do that.”

  And he wasn’t willing to entertain that hope, no matter how tempting. Hannah didn’t let his grim mood upset her. This must pain him far more than he would admit.

  She was. “A live Wellspring would be valuable to LeMar, right?”

  “Priceless.”

  “Which would explain his interest in this farm. So, let’s take a little more time – just a half hour, all right? To see if maybe, just maybe, the ‘impossible’ has happened.” He started to contradict her, and she interrupted. “Are you absolutely positive these Wellsprings are dead and not just dormant? Absolutely positive?”

  He scowled, refusing to answer. She folded her arms across her chest and waited. “Fine,” he snapped. “One half hour. Then we leave.”

  Good. Now where to restart their search? Hannah quieted her mind, hoping that her ‘Kindred’ senses (whatever they were) would pick up a hint of magic. No luck – and no surprise since Brandon had no idea where to go. He knew far more about magic than she did.

  But not about forests…!

  “Hang on!” She pointed up the slope ahead of them. “What’s that?”

  He followed the line of her finger. “I believe they’re called ‘trees.’”

  She ignored his sarcasm. “Birches, to be exact.”

  “What, precisely, is the significance of birches?”

  “Nothing – but look at them!” He peered closer… and suddenly, his eyes widened. Hannah grinned triumphantly. “It’s almost November and they still have green leaves. Every other tree around us is dead. Well, dormant…”

  “…but those birches are still alive,” he whispered. Leaving an unspoken prayer that maybe the Wellspring itself survived.

  Laughter bubbled up within her, a giddy delight. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

  Hannah bounded ahead, buoyed by a giddy rapture. She’d done it! She found this Wellspring that meant so much to him. Brandon followed more slowly. He seemed dazed, confused. It took him a moment to catch up to her, and as he did, she gave his hand a squeeze. “Never stop hoping. Never!”

  They pushed on together. Pride welled in her heart as they passed through the curtain of birch. She’d done this. She had given a Wellspring back to her Dragon! With that joy came the oddest feeling of déjà vu. She’d been here before. Somehow, she knew that. In a dream… in a past life… she couldn’t say. Yet she had definitely walked this path before.

  Slender birches parted to reveal a tiny clearing carpeted in moss. At its center lay a small depression in the ground.

  Waterless. Empty.

  Dead.

  Hannah’s spirits crashed to the ground. No! It couldn’t be dead! Not after all this!

  Who was the fool now, urging Brandon to keep hope? He was right all along. This was a waste of time.

  She turned to confess that. As she did, her love stepped past her. Awe lit his face and he wobbled with the slow, unsteady steps of a man sleepwalking. At the edge of the dry spring, he stopped and turned slowly, bright with wonder. “We found it,” he breathed. “You found it.”

  “But it’s dead,” Hannah protested. “Isn’t it?”

  “Dead? No!” He gave a short, shocked laugh. “Can’t you feel it?”

  “Mmmm… no?” Was there a lightness in the glade? An effervescence, like the air was filled with a million bubbles? Well… no. That feeling passed as quickly as it came, and Hannah wrote it off to her imagination.

  Brandon, however, had no doubts. “Then look at the trees! The moss! They can feel what you can’t. This is a Wellspring! The first one I’ve heard of in more than a century! Yes, it’s weak. It’s only beginning to awaken. But it’s not dead! Not at all!”

  Slowly, wishing she could sense that magic and share his joy fully, she walked to his side.

  “You were right,” he whispered, pulling her close. Strong arms twined around her, wrapping her in a powerful embrace. His lips pressed to hers
…

  …and the golden chalice vanished from her hands, his words ringing in her head: “Through the ages, let our souls and lives be bound.”

  Hannah jerked away, staring wildly about the clearing. In the daylight, dusted with dead leaves, it looked so different. But…

  “I’ve been here before,” she whispered.

  “As a child?” he asked, confused by her shock.

  “No. In a dream. A few nights ago.”

  “Odd. What… No!”

  Now he spun too, his face a mask of surprise. “Oh, Amarie. You crazy old Witch-Hare.” His voice faded, a mere shadow of its normal bass. “You were right.”

  “Amarie?” Hannah fought to focus. She’d lain here, cushioned by this thick moss, and opened her body, her soul, to his hungry exploration. She had pledged him her love here, and he had claimed her. No, she couldn’t get lost in those memories now. She needed to think. To concentrate. To make sense out of all this. “Your housekeeper? What did she do?”

  “She told me to believe in the Rite of Claiming.”

  That was no help. Each new bit of craziness just made her head pound. “Look, I’m sorry, I…”

  “You dreamed of this place the night you stayed with me, didn’t you?”

  Her jaw dropped. “How did you know?”

  Brandon stepped close and took her delicate hands in his own firm grip. “Because I dreamed it too. The chalice? The dagger?”

  The delirious, maddening sex they’d shared? Words failed her, completely.

  “I thought it was a dream. My longing for you, coloring my slumber. But it wasn’t. It was magic, as my wise Hare told me.”

  Her pulse fluttered at her throat, driven by her pounding heart. “I don’t understand.”

  “Once, back when the Wellsprings flowed, and the world was full of magic, my kind performed a ceremony called the Rite of Claiming. When a Dragon met his soul mate, he would know because the two of them shared a dream.”

  Images came back to her. His silken sash sliding down over his lean, muscled flanks, revealing…

  “If she agreed – if she loved him in return…” He cupped her chin and tilted her face up toward him. “…then their souls were bound together. They claimed each other. Dragon and Mate. Destinies and lives forever entwined. Even death could not keep them apart.”