Only Pretty Betas: A Shifter Paranormal Romance Series (Rebel Werewolves Book 2)

by Rosemary A Johns

  Her eyeliner hadn’t run though, kudos.

  Ramiel gave a delighted laugh, but it was Amadeus’ snicker, which was muffled against Emperor’s chest that made something inside me ache. How many times had he wanted to stand up to Vala and you know, push her under a waterfall or trap her in a room with nothing but My Chemical Romance playing on full volume for twenty-four hours? Instead, I remembered the webbing of scars on his back.

  Had Vala put them there?

  My expression hardened. “You wear milk well.”

  “Flame,” she spat, “that’s his nickname because it’s his role to be beautiful, deadly, and attract all you silly witches, wolves, and…yeah, I hadn’t thought that I was this good a trainer…but gods as well, like moths.” When Amadeus sobbed, I hungered to slap the sneer from Vala’s face. My red flooded out from me, surging around Mischief’s silver, whilst I prowled to stand at his shoulder. “He was taught one thing: to betray you all into thinking that you had his love, so that he could bring me your secrets.” She wiped her hand over her damp face, before fluttering her lashes at me. “I’d say that you were all burned.”

  “And I’d say,” Mischief’s icy fury sent shivers down even my spine, “this is what happens when you dare a god.”

  Mischief’s silver shot out, slamming Vala against the wall.

  I’d expected her to yelp, but instead she smiled.

  Yep, that was officially creepy.

  Her gaze darted to the crescent lights.

  Well, burn me at the stake, I’d forgotten the cameras and who might be watching. With Kolby’s murder and Stella’s attempt to start a war with the wolves, I’d learned all about the use of a pretext.

  It appeared that Vala was already the princess of diplomacy and had just set us up for the pretext because we’d stepped right in to making the first hostile move…but what for?

  Mischief met my gaze sheepishly, immediately letting his magic slip away from Vala. My shadows prickled, sensing ancient magics in the air. Pulse pounding, I turned back to my pack, only for chains to whip from the padded floors and wrap around my Charms, as well as Ramiel, at the same time as tearing them away from each other. Only Amadeus was left free.

  My fists clenched at their howls. At least the chains weren’t silver, since my Charms were naked — you know, it helps to be an optimist.

  I glared at Vala. “Let them go, or I swear that I’ll kick your loser ass.”

  Vala cocked her head. “Yeah, I’m not feeling that right now.”

  Was she for real? How much of my Wolf Charmer powers did I have to let out to earn some respect in this new kingdom?

  “Do you wish to know what your god is feeling right now?” Mischief held his hands smartly behind his back, but when I caught his eye I read an anxious uncertainty there.

  Vala knew the script here, and her wolfie ass was cunning.

  “I believe that now is not the time to be playing the bow down and worship me card,” Ramiel called from across the shrine.

  His voice was strained, as he struggled to breathe; the chains pressed against his chest.

  “Too late.” Vala grinned. “Just because you’re a god, doesn’t mean that you rule in my kingdom.”

  “Isn’t it your mom’s kingdom?” I scoffed.

  Wisps of magic that were as beautiful as moonbeams whispered from the fountains. Before either Mischief and I had the time to turn away, they’d captured us in their smoky embrace, dragging us into the middle of the shrine and pulling our arms and legs apart until we were spread-eagled.

  My heart thudded in my chest, whilst my back itched with sweat. But I was paralyzed. I couldn’t even thrash and struggle, as I was pinned in place like an icon next to Mischief to be worshiped.

  My little finger was touching Mischief’s; all I could feel was that one point where his skin touched mine. I thanked Hecate that I could feel him, at least. I wouldn’t have been able to take slow breaths to calm the panic, as my magic was once more forced deep inside me, until I couldn’t even throw my crimson shadows out to protect myself. Next to me, I could feel the same happening to Mischief, as he too fought to steady his breathing between his desperate pants.

  Witches had once taken Mischief’s magic through a brand on his neck; now the wolves were doing the same thing.

  Mischief was brave, loyal, and a true hero to his people…who were now hurting him.

  So, that was what it was like to hate your in-laws.

  Vala struggled to her feet, smoothing out her dress like it wasn’t transparent and outlining her nipples. Then she pointed at Mischief and me, until the wisps spun around us. Dizzy, I watched as we became encased in mists like twin moons had swallowed us.

  The deity gig sucked.

  “Here,” Vala clicked her fingers like Amadeus was a dog. When he cringed back, hugging his arms across his nakedness, as if he could hide from her, she frowned. “Come here.”

  Amadeus’ gaze became steely. Boy, he had some courage to look at his sister like that when the rest of his pack was hanging from the ceiling or in chains. “You can do anything, see, anything you like to me, but please don’t hurt my pack.”

  Vala’s mouth thinned. “I’m your pack. Now, come here.”

  Amadeus scuffed his feet as he edged towards Vala. He ducked his head, and his hair hung across his face. I hated the darkly possessive way that Vala drew him to her, and the same hunger in her expression as she studied him that I saw in every wolf’s face who came under his thrall. I knew that he was adopted, but I’d hoped that his sister had at least loved him like a sister.

  Boy, was I wrong.

  When she touched his cheek both Emperor and Moon growled.

  “Skin to skin,” Vala ordered.

  Amadeus’ eyes gleamed with tears, as he shook his head. “Please, I did what you asked…”

  “You’re displeasing me,” she snarled.

  Amadeus staggered, gasping with pain.

  “You please me, Amadeus,” I hollered because Vala telling her incubus brother that he’d displeased her was equivalent to kicking him in the balls. “You’ll freaking always please me, remember?”

  Amadeus straightened, breathing hard.

  Vala repeated, never taking her intense gaze from Amadeus’. “Skin to skin.”

  Amadeus bit his lip as he pulled off his glove, and reluctantly brought his hand to touch his sister’s cheek. When he screamed, she caught him, cradling him to her chest like she hadn’t just turned him into a sobbing mess.

  What in the witching heavens had he seen in her desires and thoughts?

  I quivered, blinking away tears from the corners of my eyes, but unable to even wipe at them.

  “Goddess Moon! He was never ordered to fall in love.” Vala rubbed Amadeus’ arm. “I can feel his disgusting love for a witch coursing through him…infecting him. Yuck, all that tingly, sappy first love. You know what he can feel?” She flashed a smile that was more fangs than teeth. “Every dark thing that I’ve ever desired to do to him. And now that he’s been dirtied up by your Claiming, why should I hold back?”

  “I will kill you,” Mischief’s voice was soft but deadly, “if you touch him even once.”

  When Vala winked at the camera, I groaned.

  Yet all I cared about was that I was trapped in a magical moon shrine, whilst the leader of a bunch of fanatics threatened the guys that I loved.

  I didn’t know whether I truly was the Kingdom of the God’s special Wolf Witch, but I did know that I no longer wished to simply kiss or kill a werewolf, I also longed to lead their pack.

  Vala had played us, however, and now we looked like the bad guys. I was pretty sure that Mischief and I had committed treason. I shivered with the thought that we could have escaped from the witches only to be executed by wolves.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  At least execution was quick. As I hung paralyzed in the moonbeams that held me spread-eagled in the middle of the Lunar Shrine, I imagined the snap of Vala’s fangs into my jugular or the s
lash of her nails into my guts. I didn’t want to die, but every day that I’d survived the massacre that had killed my parents and their guests, I’d been expecting it.

  But torture was slow, and boy, was I being tortured…with 1970s rock music.

  Next to me, held within his own moon bubble, Mischief was whining. He’d started a couple of hours ago. I thought that it was to try and block out the music, or maybe he was coping even less well than me with the way that the wisps that spun around us dampened our magic, binding it.

  Honestly, Vala was one mean princess with a mean sense of humor.

  I didn’t know if the rest of our pack was lucky or not that the Crescents had forced them to dress and then hauled them out of the shrine, before the music had started up.

  Styx’s “Witch Wolf” blasted on loop from the hidden speakers, whilst the waterfall throbbed and thundered in sympathy with its screamed solos, double-bass drumming, and wild electric guitar. If there was a hell, I thought that sinners would be trapped underground like this with only one song for eternity, played over and over and…

  “Stop this infernal, diabolical din this instant!” Mischief howled.

  Woah, if he’d been free, those speakers would’ve been toast.

  Why did I have to think of toast…? My stomach grumbled.

  Glazed donuts, marshmallows, waffles…

  Hey, bad, bad brain: no fantasy feasts, when the rest of me couldn’t join in.

  “She thinks that she’s so smart,” I grumbled, “but I’m the Wolf Witch. If she’s going to drive me crazy, the asshole should at least get the name right.”

  Mischief’s breath was ragged, but I didn’t miss the snort of laughter. I thrilled at the sound, after so many hours of nothing but his panicked whine. Faint tremors ran along his wings that were pulled out taut, just like his arms and legs.

  “Well, I’m certain that was her top priority. Although, the princess will undoubtedly have convinced her mother that she’s merely providing us with appropriate entertainment.” His eyes fluttered closed. “I rather think that I have been the foolish one to fear the witches but not know to fear my own people.”

  My heart clenched at the melancholy in his voice because how much did it suck that he’d given up his land, family, and lover to save these wolves, only for them to turn on him? Except, his pack hadn’t… Plus, I wasn’t about to judge an entire kingdom on the actions of its princess. That was the kind of dickishness that had motivated my aunt to develop the Wolf Tamer.

  “I’ve been living in fear from the moment that I arrived in Oxford with brief pauses for sexy times and cuddles.” Despite myself, my mouth curved into a smile at the thought of Moon’s cuddles, even though my guts churned with worry at what could be happening to him. “My Charms, Ramiel, and you have all taught me that it’s how I act despite that fear, which makes me truly worthy of calling myself a rebel. Trust me, I’m learning that lesson.”

  Mischief arched his brow. “Perhaps you do know more than a damn thing now, witch. Also, perhaps…”

  When his forehead beaded with sweat, I gasped at the silver strands that drifted out of his body as softly as gossamer.

  How powerful was he to break the binding, when my red was still caged inside?

  The silky strands suffused the moon around him, although they were still trapped by it. I trembled at the beauty, as the moon glowed. Mischief’s little finger touched mine; his skin was soft, and my nerves were on fire. His magic was electric: it zinged through my finger, lighting my moon as well.

  I laughed, as Mischief caressed me with his magic. Hey, what did music torture count for, when I had my very own god to light me up with his magical touch?

  It kind of hadn’t struck me fully until that moment: this was Mischief’s shrine.

  At least, it was a shrine to the moon, and the shifters believed that the Seraphim (like Mischief) who they were descended from, were their gods.

  Although, their gods had seeded and then abandoned them to be vulnerable to silver and the witches.

  They hadn’t saved them.

  Okay, I got why they had conflicted emotions about Mischief’s return. I wouldn’t have been bowing down before him either, even though he wasn’t a god in the way that they wanted him to be and hadn’t known anything about their existence until a week ago.

  Maybe he’d better not lead with that fact either.

  “My, what arrogance of these wolves to believe that they can bind a god and a Wolf Charmer.” Mischief stroked his magic down my neck, and I shivered. “I shall escape from here and then I shall make them rue the day.” Mischief sighed. “Until such time… I spy with my little eye, something beginning with M.”

  I blinked. “Dude, seriously?”

  Mischief sniffed. “If you’re forfeiting already…”

  “It’s moon, right?” I said, flatly. “Seriously, tell me that it’s not moon.”

  “It’s not moon.”

  “Did you just say that because I told you to?”

  Mischief snickered. “Excuse me if I was attempting obedience.”

  “Then attempt your game with anything but freaking moon,” I snapped.

  Mischief rolled his eyes. “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with C.”

  I clenched my jaw. “If it’s crescent, I’ll make you rue the witching day with my hand and your ass.”

  “You know, that doesn’t sound much of a deterrent.” Mischief curled his tongue behind his teeth. “Oh, and you win: it was crescent.”

  “Trust me, you’re lucky that we’re caught in this…” I glanced around the mists that surrounded us. “What on a witch’s tit is this?”

  “It’s interesting that the wolves would’ve developed such a monstrous trick to turn us into idols, is it not?” Mischief was more subdued all of a sudden. “I can only imagine that it’s a Seraphim Trap. One could almost call it hubris.”

  “Or pride comes before a fall,” I muttered.

  “Oh, I hope so… The princess has already discovered how it feels to fall on her bony behind.” Mischief’s eyes flashed.

  “Hey, we took on the asshole Houses of Seasons and Blood. What can the Kingdom of Gods throw at us that we can’t handle? Wait, I take that back. Fates, karma, universe who seems to hate me…I take that back, right? But we have each other and we’ll save each other because we’re equal in this pack.”

  Mischief drew in a sharp breath. “My mistake, you still don’t know a damn thing.” My eyes smarted with tears at his harshness and the way that his silver drew away from me, back inside his own moon. What had I said? “The question is no longer simply about your pack; it’s about you. Now that the past, which haunted you, has been stripped back, along with the lies, who will you become?” My pulse thundered in my ears, loudly enough to drown out the rock music. I remembered the ruins of the House of Silver and mom’s torn cape lying on top. I’d lost so much. But what remained? Holy hell, Mischief was right. “These shifters need an Alpha. Can you be both Wolf Charmer and leader, without abusing either role?”

  “I’d never abuse my wolves.” My throat was tight even at the thought.

  “I assure you that abuse of position and power is far more tempting and insidious than abuse of a single wolf.” Mischief’s tongue darted out to lick over his lower lip. “How sweet that you imagine there’s a simple answer here. Yet I’ll still ask the question: Will you choose to be buried by your past or freed by the truth to lead your own future?”

  “Honestly, I think I preferred I Spy,” I grumbled.

  Suddenly, the moon doors slammed open, and — thank Hecate — Styx’s “Witch Wolf” at long freaking last shut off. Mischief and I both let out a gasp of relief.

  A parade of naked Omegas, who were decorated in glittering silver and white like the transforming phases of the moon, sailed into the room. Their blond heads were respectfully bowed and hey, I’d never realized how much I loved…and needed…Moon to meet my eye. When I’d chosen him in the Omega Center, I’d hated how t
he other Omegas had trembled, whilst their gazes had remained cast down. Despite his terror at being chosen by a Wolf Charmer, Moon had always tilted his chin up in defiance. His rebelliousness had been a combination of adorable and courageous. I’d thought that even before I’d understood just how much bravery it’d taken him to meet my eye without submitting. So, I didn’t blame these Omegas for bowing their heads.

  Yet there was something different about the way that they held themselves. They had a confidence in their beauty and a respect in their deference, rather than a fear.

  Maybe they weren’t treated the same way as the Omegas were in the Wilds?

  The Omegas slipped into the alcoves, raising their arms into classical positions like living statues.

  Wow, that was both weird and scorching hot; I forced myself not to look down their naked…perfect…bodies because you can ogle a statue but where was the line on shifters as statues…?

  Then I remembered the way that Emperor had been chained to my bed for his Claiming to be used as an object just like these Omegas, and the warmth pooling through me became cold in the instant.

  An Omega with wavy blond hair to his shoulders who looked like a moonbeam sprung to life, peeled away from an alcove. He was carrying a pot that smelled sweet. My stomach growled in protest again, and I flushed, but he only smiled at me shyly through his hair. Then he dipped his fingers in the pot and held them up to my lips.

  I sniffed: honey.

  Maybe they thought that gods lived on ambrosia and you know, all the other bullshit facts that they’d stolen from myths across the ages. Next to me, Mischief tutted.

  Did they expect me to lick the stuff from the Omega’s fingers like an animal?

  Hey, I’d put on cat ears and a tail, if they were into that kind of play, for a chance at something to eat.

  I tentatively darted out my tongue.

  “You witless witch, what are you doing?” Mischief hissed.

  “Sucking some random dude’s fingers?” I ventured.

  “The first rule of being captured is: don’t eat and drink the offered sustenance. At least, if you don’t wish to be poisoned because I’ve learned through harsh experience that it’s likely drugged.” Mischief glared at the Omega, who shrank back with an offended blink of his large eyes.