Author: CJ McKnight
Date: 0101-01-01 00:00:00+00:00
Description: The struggles faced by the Ukrainian people are grave, their situation heart-wrenching. But their bravery during these dark days has been a light that has captivated and won the hearts of the world. The stories compiled in Hope for Ukraine seek to capture the essence of resilience and courage that we see daily in the Ukrainian people. This anthology includes tales of perseverance, overcoming insurmountable odds, sacrifice, tenacity, and redemption from a variety of genres. While no one knows what the future holds, one thing is clear: the road forward for Ukraine will be a difficult one. As suc
Publisher: Tarina Anthologies

Hope for Ukraine

A Charity Anthology

Copyright © 2022 by Tarina Anthologies

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work includes works of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is coincidental.

Compiled by Lauren Hanson

Edited and Formatted by Kate Seger

Contents

Foreword

Forever and Always

By Sharon Wray

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

About the Author

Sunflowers Are Yellow

By Kim Adkins

Chapter 1

About the Author

Trust Your Instincts

By Lauren Hanson

Chapter 1

Battle of a Lifetime

By Lore Nicole

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

About the Author

Deep Roots

By Kate Seger

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

About the Author

Also By Kate Seger

Sacrifices

Melanie Delaney

Chapter 1

About the Author

A Sunrise On Occupied Lands

F. Stephan

Chapter 1

Also By F. Stephan

About the Author

Love Letter

Tracy Broemmer

1. Hunter

2. Sloane

About the Author

Totally Stepped

A Shifter Speed Dating Romance by Zoey Indiana

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

About the Author

Also by Zoey Indiana

Homecoming

By Wren Michaels

Chapter 1

Epilogue

Also by Wren Michaels

Foreword

Thank you for purchasing Hope for Ukraine - A Charity Anthology.

In light of the tragic conflict in Ukraine, it is our sincere hope that these stories of hope and overcoming adversity can help spread a little light.

All proceeds from sales of this anthology will be donated to National Bank of Ukraine’s Fundraising Account for Humanitarian Assistance to Ukrainian’s Affected by Russia’s Aggression.

Forever and Always

By Sharon Wray

Chapter One

Juliet Capel didn’t need everything to be perfect on her wedding day. She didn’t care about the best weather or the fanciest food. She just wanted three things to go in her favor. Her father to walk her down the aisle. The people of her hometown to be happy for her. And something beautiful to wear.

She sighed and hung up her white sundress on the wardrobe's door in her bedroom, threw herself onto her bed, and stared at the stained ceiling.

Since her package hadn’t arrived and she couldn’t find her sewing machine, she was officially a bride without a dress. She’d spent the last of her savings on the second-hand gown she’d bought online. Even if she could borrow some money, she was at least an hour and a half away from the closest bridal shop. With a mile-long to-do list today—her wedding day— she didn’t have four hours to spare. And that’s if she found something quickly off the rack.

The French doors leading to her balcony were open, and a breeze drifted through the room. Bird songs competed with the trilling of insects that took over the remote Isle of Grace during the hottest days of summer. The white curtains lifted and fell according to the whims of the wind.

Can I turn the curtains into a dress?

A rock hit the doorframe, and she sat up. Another stone landed on her pillow, and she scooted off the bed. Just as a broken shell appeared on the floor, she stepped onto the balcony. An expanse of swampy forest lay between Capel Manor and Snake Creek. Next to her balcony, an ancient live oak tree had grown so tall, it towered above her three-story home.

Another rock hit the railing, and she leaned over, being careful not to put her weight on the top rail. Like everything else about the centuries-old southern home, the wood had rotted and was no longer stable. “Rafe?”

“Down here.” She couldn't see him beneath the canopy of tree branches, but she heard his voice.

“I thought you weren't arriving until this afternoon.” Last night he'd been at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, and she hadn't expected him to arrive this early.

His laughter floated up to her. “I left post at zero-dark-thirty.”

“You know we're not supposed to see each other before the wedding. It's bad luck.”

“I don't believe in luck or curses.” His voice sounded closer, but she still couldn't see him.

Is he climbing the tree?

“You better not be coming up here.” She tightened the belt of her cotton robe and twisted her long hair into a loose bun. “I'm serious, Rafe Montfort—”

“Too late.” He appeared on the heavy branch that curved alongside her balcony, and she covered her eyes with her hands.

“You have to leave. Now.”

He laughed and she felt the balcony sag when his feet landed next to her. A moment later, he took her wrists and drew her hands away from her eyes. Still, she kept them shut.

His fingers untwisted her hair until it hung down her back, and his breath tickled her ear. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

She shook her head. “I'm not adding bad luck to our wedding day on top of the Capel curse.”

He dropped butterfly kisses along her cheek, her forehead, and on her nose. “I've told you so many times—since you were four and I was eight—the curse is nonsense.”

“Still—”

“Juliet.” The way he spoke her name, with his southern drawl instead of a harsh consonant, made her shiver. Suddenly, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

She inhaled his familiar musky scent, and wrapped her arms around his neck. With her soft body pressed against his harder frame, she felt loved and protected and desired. After the wedding this afternoon, they'd finally find the satisfaction they'd both been craving every time she'd been in his arms.

Yes, they'd decided to wait to make love until their wedding night. A night that couldn't arrive soon enough. And, based on his very physical reaction to her, he felt the same way.

He ended the kiss and raised his head. Although she didn't need any more bad luck in her life, she opened her eyes and met his brown gaze. “Rafe.”

He smiled, probably because her husky voice was barely audible. “Good morning.”

She tucked her head beneath his chin, an easy thing to do since he was well over six feet tall, and she was five-seven in bare feet. “We shouldn't be doing this.”

“I don't care about the rules.” The way he said it, with a combination of disdain and confusion, made her laugh. He'd never been one to worry about what other people thought. Which was why, when he'd joined the army after turning eighteen, she'd been shocked. And now that he was a Special Forces soldier—a Green Beret—she'd moved into the realm of stunned.

Although she didn't want to, she pulled out of his embrace. Downstairs in the foyer, the grandfather clock struck seven times. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Checking on you.” He took her hand and led her into her bedroom. Before she could scold him, he sat on her queen-sized bed covered with a white eyelet comforter. He moved her pillows so they were behind his head. He leaned against the iron headboard, stretched out his legs, and crossed his ankles. As usual when he was on the isle, he wore jeans, a black T-shirt, and boots. His hair was shorter than she'd ever seen, and for some reason, he seemed larger. As if he'd been spending his free time in the gym.

She blushed and moved his feet off of her comforter. “No shoes on the bed.”

He grinned until tiny lines appeared around his eyes. “Yes, ma'am.”

She shook her head. “My father is downstairs. If he hears you—”

“He's already seen me. I parked my truck near the front lawn and waved to him as I headed for your balcony.”

“What was he doing?”

“Cleaning his hunting rifles on the porch.”

She sank onto the edge of the bed, and he swung his legs off to sit next to her. Then he leaned forward and pressed his elbows into his thighs.

She touched his arm, and the muscles contracted beneath her fingers. “Rafe, you should leave. We're not married yet—”

“We will be in nine hours.” He winked at her. “Forever and always, remember?”

“Forever and always.” It'd been their truth since the moment he'd proposed. “Except my father, as well as most of the people on the isle, are against this marriage. I don't want to get anyone riled up enough that they'd do anything to interrupt our wedding. Or, worse, not come.”

He sighed and laid back on the bed. He took her hand and tugged her until she lay on her side, curled up next to him. “We need to talk about this curse. What occurred in 1677 between Anne Capel and Isaiah Montfort has nothing to do with us.”

“Except, since then, every time a Montfort and a Capel became involved, bad things happened.” She didn't want to speak those bad things aloud because they included famine, war, and death. “Anne was accused of witchcraft and hanged—”

“The rope broke, and she gave birth to Isaiah's child. So, really, there was a happy ending.”

“Isaiah was murdered by his own brother!”

Rafe shrugged and met her gaze. His brown eyes, usually filled with laughter and teasing, now held a seriousness she'd never seen before. “Juliet, I love you. I also know you're afraid—”

“No.” She watched the curtains blow forward until they almost touched her. “I'm not afraid to marry you.”

“You have every reason to fear risking your heart.” He kissed the knuckles on the hand he still held, one by one. “Living here in this decrepit manor, without your mother, and with a father who neglected you—”

“He didn't.”

Rafe rubbed her bare ring finger on her left hand. She wasn't wearing an engagement ring because they couldn't afford one along with their wedding bands. Their budget as a young, newly-married couple would be tight, but it couldn't be any worse than the poverty she'd grown up in.

“Juliet,” he said softly. “You're so good at saying things are okay even when they're not. Considering your childhood here in this huge, moldering house with a careless father, you had to be. But that also means, in order to avoid risking heartache, you pull away from others to protect yourself. Sometimes you pull away from me.”

A tremor began in her arms, and her chest hurt, like her ribs were tightening to protect her heart. Tears welled and she raised up on one arm to meet his brown gaze. “I love you, Rafe. I would never pull away from you. There will never be a time when I won't love you. When we say 'forever and always,' I mean it.”

“I know that's true because I feel the same way about you. So much so that I'm counting every minute until I can make you my wife.” He used two fingers to wipe away a stray tear. “I just want you to remember that happiness comes when you risk heartache by allowing others to love you in their own way, even if it's not in the way you expect.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And asking for help is a great place to begin.”

Juliet hated asking for help, mostly because she'd never received any. But instead of arguing, she rested her head on his heavily-muscled chest. She'd never tire of feeling his heartbeat against her cheek or of smelling his sexy, masculine scent. She craved the safety and love she found within his strong embrace and missed it when they were separated. Which, considering he was a Green Beret, was often. “I'll try to remember.”

He kissed her head. “Now. What are our plans for the day?”

She chuckled in spite of herself. That was such a male question to ask. “It's our wedding day. I have a huge to-do list. And…” She hated admitting this out loud because, in the face of the world's problems, the dress situation seemed so inconsequential.

Rafe rolled over, and she found herself beneath his hard body. “And what?”

She used her fingers to trace his strong eyebrows, his nose, and his lips. “My grandmother's silver hair combs are missing. The dress I ordered online never came. I can't find my sewing machine to fix the only white dress I own, and I don't have the time or money to buy something else. So I don’t have anything to wear or to put in my hair.”

“You’ll be beautiful no matter what you wear. And I like your hair down.”

While she appreciated his compliment, she disagreed. “When I found this dress online, I knew I could alter it the way I wanted. But now,”—she nodded toward the sundress, with a torn hem, hanging on her wardrobe—“that's all I have.”

Rafe searched her eyes for a minute. The kind of minute that made time feel as if it had stopped long enough for all the stars to fall to the ground. “I have an idea.”

“I'm not going naked.”

He laughed and moved off of her. “Only in my dreams.” He stood and held a hand out to help her up. “Once you’re ready, meet me downstairs and we’ll talk.” He kissed her hard, and then he whispered, “Any chance I can take a cold shower in the guest room?”

“No.” She pushed him away, but she couldn't stop smiling. Despite their heavier conversation, his teasing was turning her mood around. “But you could make us some coffee.”

He kissed her one more time and left her room. As she rummaged through her wardrobe she glanced out the French doors. Her father emerged from an overgrown path that led to a small dock on Snake Creek. Despite the early-morning June heat, he wore his hunting jacket and carried a rifle on his shoulder.

She quickly changed into jeans, a pink T-shirt, and a blue sweatshirt, pulled her long hair into a high ponytail, then found Rafe in the kitchen, trying to make coffee without any filters.

She draped her sundress over a chair and grabbed filters from the pantry, grimacing when she saw mouse droppings in a far corner. Her home, built centuries ago, was in the final ruins of decay. “I think my father is returning to the manor.”

“Good.” Rafe took the filter from her, fitted it into the top of the coffee pot, and added grounds. “I want to make sure he's going to walk you down the aisle today.”

Although she hoped her father would comply, she doubted it.

She heard the heavy oak front door open and close. Her father's footsteps pounded on the worn wood floors, followed by banging noises. She shared a concerned look with Rafe. Her father was probably working out his anger at her decision to marry Rafe.

The landline phone next to the refrigerator rang, and she answered, “Hello?”

“Juliet.” Old Man Boudreaux's voice boomed on the line. “We're not hosting your reception at Boudreaux's today.”

She clutched the phone and her heart rate doubled. Sweat beaded her forehead, and she took a few breaths before answering, “I don't understand. How can you cancel it the day of the wedding?”

Boudreaux's restaurant was situated on Black River, deep within the woods of Isle of Grace. A cooking hut served Boudreaux’s famous gumbo, and picnic tables surrounded the outdoor dance floor and live bandstand. Ancient Georgia oak trees, with their intertwined limbs covered in Spanish moss and strands of white lights, provided protection from the weather. It was a humble-yet-romantic place. A perfect place for a small, southern wedding.

“I’ve made up my mind.” Old Man Boudreaux's cranky voice came through louder than before. “Your reception is canceled.”

“Why would you do such a thing?” Old Man Boudreaux was not an easy man to deal with on a good day, but he’d never just cancel her reception without a reason.

“Talk to your father.”

Her fingers holding the phone cramped and she moved the receiver to her other hand. Her father had been against this marriage from the moment Rafe proposed. But would he really go behind her back and ruin her day? “Did my father ask you to cancel the reception?”

Rafe touched her shoulder. She held up the receiver so he could hear as well.

“This isn’t about your father. This is about the fact that a Montfort boy has no business marrying a Capel woman. Last time that happened, forty-four kids died, and we hanged Anne Capel as a witch. You marryin’ Rafe... it ain't right.”

Rafe took the phone just as Old Man Boudreaux ended the call.

“I can't believe it.” She hung up the phone and faced Rafe. His scowl reminded her of the time he’d confronted Jimmy Boudreaux—Old Man Boudreaux's son—when he’d pushed her into a creek, ruining her only school uniform. “Old Man Boudreaux canceled our reception.”

“I'll talk to him.” Rafe fisted his hands, as if struggling to keep his temper in line. Then he checked his watch. “First, I'll take you to—”

“What are you still doin' here?” Her father, Gerald Capel, entered the kitchen and laid his rifle on the table. He'd taken off his hunting jacket, but his field pants and gray T-shirt were stained with mud and sweat. Barely fifty, he was in perfect physical shape. Probably from the hours he spent roaming over two thousand acres of desolate Capel land, hunting animals and trespassers with the same vigor.

Land he could’ve sold to improve their standard of living but had steadfastly refused to do for reasons she’d never understood.

“I'm here,” Rafe said in a low, deep, deliberate voice, “to see my bride.”

Her father scoffed and grabbed a chipped mug from a cabinet without a door. “Are you both still on with this foolishness?”

“We are.” She zipped up her sweatshirt. Despite the rising humidity and the lack of AC in the manor, chills ran down her arms. “Did you talk to Mr. Boudreaux about canceling my reception?”

Instead of answering, he stomped toward the coffee pot. The brewing beans barely covered the ever-present scent of mildew that permeated the house.

Since he refused to respond, she moved on to the other important issue of the day.

“Dad?” She hated the desperation in her voice. “Will you reconsider coming to the ceremony?”

“No.” Her father

“Sir—"

She placed a hand on Rafe's chest to stop him. His anger would only make things worse. “I want you to walk me down the aisle.” She cleared her throat. “Please.”

He kept his back to her as he poured his coffee. He drank it black and preferred it bitter. “Capels and Montforts shouldn't marry.” He glanced at her and Rafe. His gray eyes matched the scruffy gray beard. “I'm surprised Pops hasn't put a stop to this nonsense.”

“My parents are thrilled,” Rafe said.

“Then Pops is an even bigger fool than I thought.” Her father took his mug and headed toward the broken screen door leading into the backyard. “I know you wanted to wear your grandmother's silver hair combs today, but I can't find them.”

“Dad, please.” She touched his arm as he passed. “If you won't come, will you at least tell me where you put my sewing machine?”

He stormed out of the kitchen, saying, “I sold it.”

Rafe ran a hand over his head. He had to take numerous deep inhales and exhales before he could control his temper. “Dam—”

Juliet placed a finger on his lips. “No cussing on our wedding day.”

He nodded but let a string of curses flow through his mind.

Gerald Capel was one of the most ornery, obstinate men Rafe had ever encountered. And that was saying a lot since he'd survived the army's Basic Training, Airborne school, Air Assault school, Ranger school, and the Special Forces Q course. Out of all the officers and instructors he'd had over the years, no one came close to carrying around the anger and bitterness Gerald inflicted on those who loved him.

Juliet sniffled. “I told you the curse was real.” Her brown eyes shimmered, and his heart ached for her.

He took her into his arms and rested his chin on her head. No one had suffered under Gerald's unpleasantness more than Juliet. And Rafe was worried about how she’d take Gerald’s refusal. “Will you be okay if he doesn’t change his mind and walk you down the aisle?”

“I have to be.”

He closed his eyes and breathed in her fresh, floral scent. All he wanted was to marry her and take her away from the isle with its loneliness and cruelty and despair. “Your father's anger at the world has nothing to do with you or a silly curse.”

“Maybe.” She moved out of his embrace to pace the room. “I saw my father walking out of the woods from Snake Creek. I still think he asked Old Man Boudreaux to cancel the reception. Even though Old Man Boudreaux offered to host the reception—gumbo and beer—in lieu of the waitressing money he owes me. So it's not like my father was paying for it.”

Boudreaux's sat on the edge of Capel land, making Gerald the restaurant’s landlord. That meant Juliet’s suspicions were probably correct.

“Let’s go find out the truth.” Rafe took her hand as she passed him, forcing her to meet his gaze. “But first, we have things to do. Pack up everything you own because when we leave here today, we’re never coming back.”

Chapter Two

An hour later, Rafe parked his truck in front of Boudreaux's restaurant. After Gerald left the kitchen, Rafe had helped Juliet pack up her things—including her white sundress—and driven her away from Capel Manor. If he had his way, his future wife would never return to the house that should've been condemned after WWI.

Rafe was sick to death of the isle’s inhabitants and their talk of curses and feuds. He and Juliet were meant to be married, and everyone on the Isle of Grace knew it.

He'd known since he was a teenager that he'd marry her. He'd known, in that forever-and-always kind of way, that their futures were intertwined. Now that she was almost twenty and he was twenty-four, it was time for them to begin their lives together. The irony was that although Juliet was four years younger, she was far more mature. She'd had to grow up quickly in a home where she'd raised herself. In a home with no mother, and often no food or electricity. She'd had to become a savvy, self-sufficient woman in order to survive.

“I can't believe my father sold my sewing machine,” Juliet said as Rafe helped her out of the truck. With her hair in a high ponytail and her white sneakers, she appeared so young. It wasn't until one met her gaze that they realized she had the soul of an ancient.

“Try not to worry.” He shut the door and took her hand. “My mother will help us figure something out.”

She squeezed his fingers as they walked. “I hope so.”

He doubted Gerald had sold the sewing machine and didn't know the whereabouts of the silver hair combs. The hair combs, etched with images of the rare lily that used to grow on the isle when they were kids, were the only things connecting Juliet to her grandmother and mother. Since her mother had died during Juliet's birth, and her grandmother had passed years before that, she'd not known either of them.

That meant she'd been alone since the moment she'd been born. A situation he was going to change at four p.m. this afternoon.

He led her across the portable dance floor situated in the center of twelve live oaks. The bandstand was empty, and the coolers—normally filled with iced beers and soda—had been stacked next to the cooking hut. Empty picnic tables sat beneath the nearby trees.

While he wasn't as concerned about the reception's cancellation as she was, a pang of regret tightened his chest. They wouldn’t have a first dance on the same floor where he'd first asked her out.

She wiped her brow with her free hand. “I can't believe how hot it is already.”

“Summer in Georgia.” The humidity was like its own entity, a phantom that stole breathable air and left behind a sea of gnats. Meanwhile, the nearby tidal estuary ebbed and flowed without regard for the people who'd inhabited this isle for centuries.

She waved her hand in front of her face, and they headed toward the cooking hut. Summer bugs chittered, a mix of cicadas, crickets, and katydids desperately seeking relief.

Old Man Boudreaux came out of the hut, wiping his hands on a towel. “Why are you two here?”

Juliet dropped Rafe's hand and moved closer to the man who wore black combat pants and a black T-shirt. All covered by a black leather apron.

Since Rafe had been a kid, he'd assumed the Boudreaux patriarch was old. Hence the nickname all the kids on the isle called him. Except Old Man Boudreaux was only in his mid-fifties and, like Gerald, had the temper and physical strength of a man much younger in years.

“I want to know why, exactly, you canceled my reception.” Juliet held up a hand so he wouldn't interrupt her. “I know it's not because of Anne Capel's tragic story or the curse she supposedly left behind.”

Old Man Boudreaux took off his Georgia Tech baseball cap and ran a hand through his hair, which was as gray as his beard. “You both know the history of your families better than anyone. I agree with Gerald. Montforts and Capels don't marry.”

Juliet blew stray hairs out of her eyes. “My father came to see you this morning?”

“Yes.” Old Man Boudreaux put his cap back on and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I suggest you both heed his warning. This marriage will only cause trouble.”

Without saying goodbye, he turned and headed down the path leading to the small boat landing on the estuary.

Rafe took Juliet's hand. The Capel curse was nonsense. So there had to be another reason why he’d canceled the party. “Let's go. There’s no point in following him.”

As they walked back to the truck, she asked, “What are we going to do about a reception?”

He hated how her voice cracked from sadness. “We'll think of something.”

She sniffled. “I am so sick of crying.”

He kissed her palm, silently promising her that he'd never, ever make her cry. “Let's go see my mother. She'll know what to do.”

Juliet rolled down the truck's window and closed her eyes. The breeze blowing through the cab helped ease her hot, prickly skin. The panicky feeling she’d fought this morning had turned into a slight headache, and she prayed nothing else would go wrong.

“It’ll be okay.” Rafe rubbed the back of her neck. “I promise.”

She opened her eyes and glanced at him. The way he handled the truck with one hand while his other hand touched her neck sent a shiver through her. He was always so confident in everything he did and everything he wanted. He never doubted, never wavered, never gave up. And he was never embarrassed by his physical reaction to her. “What are we going to do if we don't have a reception?”

“We'll have a champagne toast with our parents and leave on our honeymoon.” He dropped his hand and gripped the wheel. “As far as I'm concerned, leaving earlier for our honeymoon is better.”

He spoke with such seriousness, a warm flush rose from her neck to her cheeks. Instead of responding, she turned away to watch the passing scenery that included scrubby palmettos intertwined with banyan trees. The rising heat and humidity made everything seem fuzzy around the edges, as if the day had just awoken from a dream.

They only had one night before Rafe had to return to Fort Bragg. She'd asked him a million times where they'd be spending their honeymoon, but she'd yet to get anything out of him. She hated to admit this, but she was both excited and nervous. And she really wished her mother was still alive to talk to about all these things. While Tess, her future mother-in-law, was sweet, conversations about sex were too awkward to even consider.

“Everything will work out like it's meant to.”

“I hope so.” It wasn’t that she didn’t agree. She just had no idea how.

“What else is on your list today?”

She pulled her notebook out of her overnight bag near her feet. “Besides fixing my dress, I want to decorate the church with the wildflowers I picked yesterday. They're in buckets of water in the rectory. I also discovered white ribbon in the rectory’s closet, and Father Thomas said I could use it.”

The truck emerged from the woods to discover it was raining. Rafe turned on the wipers and made a right turn onto the dirt road leading into town. “What else?”

“I want to swing by Mamie's Café. The wedding cake is in Miss Mamie's refrigerator. And her nephew Kade, who is home on leave this weekend, offered to take photos. I want to talk to him.”

“I thought my mother was taking photographs?”

“Tess will take some photos, but she's also standing up for us as a witness.”

Rafe nodded and parked in front of an old service station with a rusted Texaco sign floating in the breeze. He'd not brought up the fact she didn't have any bridesmaids, and she was grateful.

Most of the kids they'd grown up with were boys, and she had few girlfriends. It's not that she wasn't liked; it was just hard for her to make friends when she lived in a decaying manor in the middle of a remote isle with a father who terrorized everyone he met.

Rafe turned off the ignition. The station hadn't seen a gas truck in years, but the building had been turned into one of the best barbecue restaurants in the Low Country, known as Mamie's Café.

She waited for him to open her side door and help her out of the truck. It'd already stopped raining, and the sun had emerged. The small church they were getting married in, St. Mary of Sorrows, stood across the street. The building was mostly hidden by huge oaks and pecans, but the white steeple rose above the trees and shimmered in the daylight. “Have you spoken to Calum?”

“He flew home from Paris last night.” Rafe took her hand and walked her into the café. “Calum wouldn't miss our wedding even if the world had ended yesterday.”

“That sounds like Calum.” Calum Prioleau lived in Savannah, yet his family—one of the richest in the South—had owned property on the Isle of Grace for almost as long as the Capels and Montforts. Despite their families' financial disparities, she, Rafe, and Calum had been close friends since they could walk. “Please remind Calum that he's driving Father Thomas out here for the wedding.”

“Why?” Rafe held the door open for her.

“Because Father Thomas enjoys your mother's champagne punch.” She laughed. “He requested a designated driver.”

“I forgot about his love for champagne punch.” Rafe looked around the café. Usually a bustling place filled with locals, today it was quiet and dark. The only light streamed in through picture windows.

“Hello?” Her voice echoed in the space that held a grill, a bar, four tables, and refrigerated cases filled with milk, soda, beer, and other groceries. Besides a small restaurant, Mamie’s Café also served as the only convenience store within thirty miles of the isle.

“Hey, Juliet.” A young man with military-short blond hair emerged from the back room. Kade Dolan wore jeans and a blue T-shirt and carried a soda can. Kade, Miss Mamie's nephew, hadn't grown up on the isle. But he'd spent so many summers here everyone treated him like a local. A difficult feat considering how suspicious the people of the isle were of outsiders. “Good to see you, Rafe.”

After the men shook hands, Rafe asked, “May I use the landline phone in Mamie's office?”

“Sure,” Kade said.

Once Rafe left, Kade tossed his can into the recycling bin near the register. “I'm glad you stopped by. I was trying to call you until I remembered there's still no cell service on the isle.”

“There's a cell tower on Skidaway Island.” She took off her sweatshirt and draped it over a barstool. The AC was off, and she was melting from the heat. “But the stars have to align for the signal to reach out here.”

Kade laughed and headed around the counter to turn on the overhead lights. “I spoke to my aunt before she left for her quilting convention. The cake is in the refrigerator, and I'm happy to take photographs of your wedding today. Aunt Mamie left me her camera with a new SD card.”

“That was sweet of her.” At least something was working out. “Kade, do you know if the postman left any packages here addressed to me? The postman doesn't like to drive all the way out to Capel Manor. He's always complaining about the roads.” And her father, but she didn't mention the ongoing feud between the postman and her dad.

“I haven't seen anything. If any mail comes, I'll let you know.”

She sighed and sat on the stool. She'd hoped the package with her dress might be here, but wasn't surprised it hadn’t been delivered.

Kade opened the refrigerator near the grill and pulled out a pitcher of iced tea. After pouring a glass and handing it to her, he said, “My aunt left you a wedding present. It's upstairs in her sewing room.”

“Really? Miss Mamie never mentioned it.” Juliet sipped the iced tea and glanced toward the back stairs, which led to the sewing room where Miss Mamie and her quilting circle met. A sewing room with her sewing machine. “Do you mind if I look for it?”

“Go ahead.” Kade poured two more glasses and put the pitcher away. “I'll be in the back office. I'm building my aunt a new set of storage shelves.”

“Thanks.” She headed for the stairs just as Rafe came out of the back office. “I'm going to check out something in Miss Mamie's sewing room. Can you bring in my dress, as well as my overnight bag, in case her machine is upstairs?”

“Of course.” Rafe kissed her quickly. “I just spoke to my mother, and she'll meet you here soon. I told her about Old Man Boudreaux. I suspect she's going to scold him and your father until they melt into puddles of sweat and tears. Or until the next full moon appears. Whichever comes first.”

Her laughter filled the room. If anyone could scold the patriarchs of the isle, it was Rafe's mother, Tess Montfort. “Where are you off to?”

“Secret wedding things.” He winked at her, downed the iced tea Kade handed him, and headed for the door. “I'll bring in the dress and your bag, and then I'm off.”

She blew him a kiss. “Don't be late for the wedding.”

“I promise.” He waved and let the door shut behind him.

A few minutes later, she entered Miss Mamie's sewing room feeling a bit more hopeful. She dropped her overnight bag and her sundress on the sewing table. Besides the enormous cutting table in the center covered with quilted squares, cabinets along the walls held bolts of fabric. Bins overflowed with trimmings of all types and colors. Chairs sat around the table's perimeter. Unfortunately, Miss Mamie's sewing machine was gone.

Juliet rubbed her forehead with her fist and forced herself to breathe properly. Miss Mamie probably took her machine to the quilting convention.

A few minutes later, she found the present on a chair at the end of the quilting table. The box had a white bow and a card on top with the name Juliet written in script. She opened the lid and saw an envelope lying on pink tissue paper. When she unsealed it, she pulled out a note. “This brought me luck. I hope it does the same for you. Let it be your something borrowed.” There was also a photograph of three women, one of whom was wearing a wedding veil.

She sank into a chair and studied the photo. The bride, Miss Mamie, beamed in the middle of two women who wore blue dresses. Tess stood on one side, her brown eyes—so much like Rafe's—filled with happiness. On the other side, a woman with a lovely smile held two bouquets.

She rubbed the face of that woman with her finger. It was her mother. She turned the photo over and found the words ‘Mamie, Tess, and Hope’ written in pen.

She had few photos of her mother and was grateful for this one. She wiped a tear away and placed the photo on the table. Then she unwrapped the tissue paper in the box. She inhaled and held up the wedding veil attached to plastic combs. It was the wedding veil Miss Mamie was wearing in the photo.

Juliet shook out the veiling and swung it around. It was short and would work perfectly with her sundress.

“Oh, my,” a woman said from the doorway.

Juliet turned as Tess Montfort came into the room and took the veil from Juliet's hands. Today Tess wore jeans, a navy T-shirt, and her rain boots with ladybug faces painted on the toes. She'd tied her long hair up into a loose bun. “I remember the day Mamie got married. Your mother, Hope, and I were bridesmaids.”

Juliet showed Tess the photo. “Miss Mamie gave this to me. Along with the veil.”

“I remember that day so well.” Tess threw the veil over Juliet's head and attached the combs to her hair. “This veil is lovely.” Tess walked her toward a mirror in the corner of the room. “You're going to be a beautiful bride.”

Juliet stared at herself wearing a sweatshirt, T-shirt, and a messy ponytail. “I can’t believe it’s my wedding day.”

“Pops and I are so happy you're marrying Rafe.” Tess, taller than Juliet by a few inches, stood behind and squeezed her shoulders. “Philip can't wait to have a sister.”

Rafe's brother Philip, a few years younger than Juliet, was on his way home from art camp to attend the wedding. “When does Philip arrive?”

“He’s home. Pops picked him up at the train station this morning.” Tess smoothed the veiling down with one hand. “Rafe called the house and told us what happened with Gerald and the reception. It’s awful.”

Juliet took off the veil and draped it in the box. “I’d hoped my father would change his mind about walking me down the aisle, but I’m not surprised he didn’t.”

“I know you’re sad, but one shouldn't go through life expecting the worst of plans or people.”

Juliet rummaged through a bin of lace trimmings. “I wish I had your optimism.”

“It's not optimism. It's grace.”

“I don't know what that means.”

Tess took Juliet's hands. “Optimism is when you hope for the best but secretly expect the worst. Grace is what you know in your heart to be true and right and honest. It just is. Like knowing the unknown.” She released Juliet’s hand and picked up the photo. “Like knowing your father loves you even if he doesn’t walk you down the aisle. Like knowing your mother loved you even though she died before she could tell you.”

“Grace sounds like something only people who've never experienced heartache would believe in.”

“Everyone has access to grace.” Tess glanced at Juliet with a soft smile. “You just have to open your heart to recognize and accept it.”

Juliet took the photo of her mother and stared at the three happy women. “Bad things happen, regardless of how much you love someone. Even someone you've never known. And those bad things make it easier for your heart to stay closed.”

“While that can be so, it doesn’t have to your truth.” Tess picked up a roll of white Chantilly lace. “Did you know I lost my mother at a young age?”

Tess's eyes filled with unshed tears, and Juliet touched her shoulder. “No.”

“I was six when she drowned in a boating accident, and I remember she loved me. I also know she didn't choose to leave me. Just like your mother didn't choose to leave you.”

Juliet placed the photo on top of the veil. “I appreciate what you're saying.” She brushed a stray tear off her cheek. She was a crying machine today. Hopefully, all of these tears would just be a wedding day thing and not a fifty-years-of-marriage thing.

“Juliet,” Tess lowered her voice. “You’re a good person to whom bad things have happened. But you still get to choose how you respond to them.”

Juliet released a long exhale, and some of the tension in her shoulders eased. “While I'm not sure about the grace concept, thank you for trying to make me feel better.”

“You’re welcome.”

Juliet then remembered what Rafe had said to her about taking small steps toward opening her heart. After telling Tess about the dress situation, she retrieved her sundress from the table and held it up for Tess to inspect. “Can you fix my dress?”

“Of course.” Tess put on her glasses to study the hem. Then she ran her fingers around the scoop neckline and short sleeves. “I’ll make sure it’s beautiful.”

Juliet bit her lower lip and decided to ask for one more favor. “And the reception? I don’t know what to do.”

Tess, holding a thread remover and a thimble, glanced at Juliet with a secret grin. “I’m so glad you asked because I already took the liberty of talking to Miss Ida. She’s going to help me plan a small reception in the church rectory.”

Juliet cleared her throat. Ida Mercer was married to Grady Mercer, one of her father's oldest friends. She’d not expected so much help so quickly. “Wow. Thanks.” She laid the dress on the table. “Please tell Miss Ida I appreciate her help.”

“I will.” Tess began rummaging through different bins of lace on the other side of the room when a young man appeared in the doorway.

“Hey, mom.” Philip came in wearing too-short pants and hair hanging over his eyes. He smiled at Juliet, and his ears turned red. “Hi, Juliet.”

Juliet gave him a hug. He’d grown two inches in the six weeks he’d been gone. “I’m so glad to see you.”

He hugged her back and then turned to Tess. “There was a phone call for you at home. The florist said she couldn’t reach you or Juliet on your cells. I told her there’s no cell service on the isle, but I’m not sure she believed me. Anyway, she’s sick and doesn’t have your bouquets ready.”

Tess adjusted her glasses and inspected another roll of lace. “That’s unfortunate. But I’m sure we can figure something out.”

The heavy feeling returned to Juliet’s chest.

Philip shoved his hands into his pocket. “Do you need help?”

While she was annoyed at the florist, getting angry would only make her tired and cranky. And those were the last emotions she wanted to feel today.

She took a few deep breaths and glanced at Tess and Philip, two people who loved her and wanted her and Rafe to be happy. Although she was disappointed, she decided to honor them by dumping the bad mood and making a plan. “Actually, I need help decorating the church. Maybe there’ll even be enough flowers to make two small bouquets for me and your mom.”

Philip’s smile was so wide, she was surprised his face didn’t split. “That sounds awesome.”

After telling him what she wanted to do, he left, saying, “I’ll go grab some tools and meet you at the church.”

She returned to the table where Tess had laid out three different types of white lace. Juliet hadn’t known Miss Mamie was such a fabric hoarder.

“I know this isn't the wedding of your dreams,” Tess said, “But I promise you weddings and marriages are not the same thing.”

Juliet studied the torn lace along the neckline of her sundress. She'd not noticed it earlier. “What do you mean?”

“Weddings aren't just about the bride and groom. Weddings are for the people who surround the newly-married couple, to offer hope for all who witness the sacred ceremony. Weddings prove love truly conquers all fears.”

That seemed like a lot of pressure to put on one ceremony. “What if the community hates the bride and believes the marriage is cursed?”

“The isle doesn't hate you, Juliet.”

“They hate my father. They hate my family's history, which includes a supposed witch accused of killing forty-four kids centuries ago. Most of the people of this isle barely speak to me.”

“There’s no doubt your father is a difficult man. He was even before your mother married him, and her death made him worse. But they don't hate you. And, as far as I'm concerned, curses are nonsense.” Tess held up a roll of white Venetian lace. “Now, let's turn this sundress into a bridal gown.”

Chapter Three

Rafe parked his truck as close as he could to the Cemetery of Lost Children in the center of Capel land.

A cemetery dating back to the early sixteen-hundreds, it was home to tombs of the forgotten: Ancestors of every family on the isle, rogue pirates marooned along the isle's many tidal estuaries, forty-four children who'd died in a 1677 pandemic, and one accused witch named Anne Capel.

He slipped on his field coat, grabbed his rifle, and got out of the truck. Marching through the unforgiving woods on his way to a creepy cemetery was the last thing he wanted to be doing hours before marrying the woman he adored. But since Juliet had been denied so many things in her life, he was determined to set one thing right for her.

An hour later, Rafe wiped his forehead and checked his watch. It was a quarter past eleven, and he'd just reached the cemetery's gates. He was gambling with time. Yet, according to the other men on the isle who he'd called from Miss Mamie's office, this was where Gerald spent most of his time hunting wild boars.

Rafe adjusted the rifle on his shoulder and, despite the heat, kept his jacket on. While he was hot, he didn't want to be devoured by blood-thirsty bugs.

He walked past the crumbling marble pilasters holding remnants of iron gates. The overhanging trees kept the area dark and shadowy. He'd give himself one more hour before heading home. He still had a few wedding things to do, and there was no way he'd be late to meet his bride. A twig snapped ahead of him. A black Labrador and an older man carrying a rifle, Grady Mercer, emerged from behind a large crumbling mausoleum. His hunting dog, Darby, ran past Rafe to chase a squirrel.

Grady stopped a few feet away and wiped his forehead with his arm. “Don't you have better things to do on your wedding day?”

“I'm looking for Gerald.”

Grady glanced around the desolate cemetery. “Gerald asked some of us to help him take down a troublesome boar. We didn't find the beast, and Gerald isn't happy.”

“Did he tell you what happened with Mr. Boudreaux this morning?”

“He did.” Grady sighed and shifted his rifle to his other shoulder. “I also tried to talk Gerald into walking Juliet down the aisle. But he refused. Then he told me if Juliet marries you, she'll never be safe again.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“I agree. But I couldn't change his mind.” Grady shook his head. “There's something wrong with Gerald. You’re not around as much as you used to be, but have you noticed Gerald's been felling trees along the bush roads on the isle? He's also burned some of the smaller docks along Snake Creek and Black River.”

Actually, Rafe had noticed strange things over the past year every time he returned home while on leave. It was almost as if Gerald was making half of the isle impassable.

“His behavior changed after I asked him for Juliet's hand in marriage.” At one point in Rafe's life, he'd known every inch of Capel land better than almost anyone on the isle. He'd grown up hunting and running in the woods, swimming and canoeing in the tidal estuaries, even playing hide-and-seek in the Cemetery of Lost Children with Juliet, Calum, and his brother Philip. “Gerald has also seemed paranoid. He talks about seeing bowing men in the woods.”

“He mentioned the bowing men to me as well.”

Two men appeared on Rafe's left, coming out from behind a grove of scrubby palmettos. Jimmy and Tommy Boudreaux, Old Man Boudreaux's sons. When they noticed Grady and Rafe, the men headed in their direction.

Rafe bristled and took a deep breath. Both Jimmy and Tommy had been two of the worst bullies on the small school bus that took the isle's kids into town for school. Because Rafe was four years older than Juliet, they'd never been on the same school bus. Without Rafe around to protect her, the Boudreaux boys had picked on the poorest girl on the isle.

Pops had recently told Rafe that Jimmy was now in the police academy and Tommy was a senior in high school. Still, Rafe didn't trust the Boudreaux boys.

“What are you doing here, Rafe?” Jimmy asked.

“Looking for Gerald. Have you seen him?”

“We were with Gerald a few minutes ago.” Tommy nodded at Grady. “After you left, Gerald began spouting nonsense about bowing men who were after him and Juliet.”

“Gerald became so agitated,” Jimmy said, “he told us to leave before he dealt with us.”

Grady took off his baseball cap and slapped it against his thigh. “Gerald threatened you?”

“Not directly,” Jimmy said. “But Gerald's not okay. This morning he even ordered my dad to move Boudreaux's restaurant off Capel land.”

Rafe stared into the deeper recesses of the cemetery. “That must be why your dad canceled our wedding reception. To appease Gerald.”

Jimmy frowned. “My dad never mentioned the reception.”

“Wow,” Tommy said. “Everyone knows Gerald doesn't want you marrying his daughter. But still, that's just wrong.”

“Now, my mom and Miss Ida,”—Rafe nodded at Grady—“are putting together a celebration in the rectory for us after the ceremony.”

Grady clapped Rafe's back. “I'll go back and see if Ida needs my help.”

Once Grady disappeared, Rafe focused on the two men in hunting clothes who refused to meet his gaze. With Grady around, they probably hoped Rafe wouldn't go off about how they'd treated Juliet in the past. Yet, without Grady's protection, they had to know there'd be some kind of reckoning.

“Today, I'm marrying Juliet, no matter what anyone on this god-forsaken isle says. If either of you has any remorse about how you treated her when we were kids, I'm offering you a way to make it up to her.”

Jimmy’s dark eyes held enough guilt to take down an entire herd of feral boar. “What do you need?”

Tommy shifted his feet and cleared his throat. “I'm in too.”

Rafe pulled out his wallet and handed over most of his cash. All the money he'd saved for his honeymoon night, minus what he needed to pay Father Thomas. “Take this. And do exactly what I tell you.”

A few minutes later, after giving orders to the Boudreaux boys and receiving information in return, Rafe found Gerald near a statue of St. Michael the Archangel. The archangel stood on a four-foot plinth. One hand raised a sword to Heaven while the other clutched a shield. Although St. Michael was naked and headless, he was still the most imposing effigy in the cemetery.

Rafe coughed to get Gerald’s attention without startling him.

Gerald turned, holding his shotgun close. “Whatcha doin' here, boy? Change your mind about marrying my daughter?”

“No, sir.” Rafe dropped his rifle off his shoulder and placed it on a flat tomb. “I'm here to ask you to walk her down the aisle.”

“No.” Gerald returned his focus to the angel. “I won't put my daughter in danger.”

As if Gerald had ever given a single thought about the safety of his daughter. “What kind of danger?”

“From men who bow.”

Rafe leaned against a marble column covered in yellow Carolina jasmine vines. “Sir—”

“No, Rafe.” Gerald slung his gun over his shoulder and walked in the opposite direction. “I won't give either of you my blessing. If she marries you, she does it without my support.”

Rafe grabbed his rifle and followed. “Will you give me the silver hair combs?”

“No.”

“Why not? They're not yours. They were left to her by her momma.”

Gerald stopped and turned, his frown deepening his forehead wrinkles. “My wife wouldn't be happy about this marriage either. Montforts and Capels should never marry.”

“Says who?” Rafe waved an arm around the cemetery. “The dead? One minute you're telling me about the curse, the next, you're trying to frighten me off with whispered words about Juliet's safety and bowing men you're seeing everywhere. Did it ever occur to you that you're having delusions?”

Yes, Rafe was speaking harshly. But he was also almost out of patience.

Gerald moved closer, only stopping when Rafe could feel his breath and see the darker rims around his gray eyes. “Tell me you're not bound to another.”

Rafe stepped back and swallowed. He had no idea what Gerald was talking about, but the tone in his voice carried a level of menace Rafe had never heard before. “I love Juliet. She is the only woman I will ever love. You, and the entire isle, have known this for years.”

Gerald stared into Rafe's eyes, as if trying to dig through his memories. “You never swore an oath to someone else? A man, perhaps?”

“Of course not.” Rafe swallowed as a memory washed over him. A moment, years ago in this cemetery, when he’d been sixteen. A trespassing hunter in the cemetery, who’d identified himself as Sebastian, had accosted Juliet and Calum and locked them in Anne Capel’s tomb. Rafe had gotten them out, but Sebastian returned before they could run away. In return for their freedom, Sebastian had forced Rafe to kneel and swear an oath of fealty.

At the time, Rafe had no idea what the word fealty even meant. Gerald had been working the docks in Charleston, and Rafe, Calum, and Juliet never told another soul about what had happened. It had been one of the strangest days of his life, and he knew Juliet still had nightmares about the time she spent in the dark crypt.

Even though Gerald’s question raised the specter of that day, Rafe played the clueless card. “I love Juliet. I'm going to marry her this afternoon.” Then he held his hand out. “Where are her hair combs?”

“It's as I thought.” Gerald exhaled and turned away, his focus on St. Michael again. “You're going to break her heart. I may be a terrible father, but I love my daughter.”

Rafe rubbed his forehead with his fist. The conviction in Gerald’s words resonated with Rafe. Despite the neglect, Rafe believed Gerald loved his daughter and found it possible he didn’t know how to emotionally connect with people. “I'm not good with words, Gerald. So all I have to offer is this: I have loved Juliet forever, and I will love her always. Every breath I take is on her behalf. Because without her in my life, I honestly believe I'll stop breathing.” He pressed his fist against his heart. “I promise to love her, protect her, and care for her for the rest of her life. If you want me to, I'll swear it.”

Gerald fixed his hard gaze on Rafe. “Your heart is not your own to give. You gave it to another when you were sixteen.” He pointed to St. Michael. “Right here in this cemetery.”

This had to be the most frustrating conversation he'd ever had. “Of course it is mine to give.”

“Marry her. Love her, if you can. But don't make promises you can’t keep. One day, your past will force you to keep the promise you made eight years ago and my daughter will be the one to suffer.” Gerald spat on the ground. “Don’t be the coward who makes her save your sorry life.”

Before Rafe could respond, Gerald stomped away and disappeared behind a broken marble vault covered in plastic shifting with the breeze.

Defeated, Rafe headed for the cemetery gates.

A few minutes later, as he passed the tomb of an unknown Revolutionary War soldier, he saw something in the distance, near the edge of the creek. Gerald stood within the shade of an old oak tree, waving an arm as if talking to someone Rafe couldn't see.

He checked his watch. It was almost one p.m. When he raised his head, Gerald was gone. Within a single heartbeat, Rafe noticed another man in the shadows watching him. When the shadows shifted from light to dark, the man disappeared. Shivers ran up and down Rafe’s arms, and he shook his head. He had to get home. ASAP.

Still, even while he was driving back to his parent's house, the image replayed in his mind until the scene was burned into his memory. The man had wrapped an arm around his waist and... bowed.

Chapter Four

Juliet walked to the back of the church, and Philip handed her a water bottle. Then they both turned to inspect their work.

With Philip’s help, they’d transformed the church into a garden of flowers.

“You are so talented, Philip.” He’d come up with the idea to wire the ivy, gardenias, white roses, and lavender she’d found in the churchyard into posies. Then he’d attached them to the ends of each pew with white satin ribbons trailing on the floor. They’d also made two bouquets, one for her and one for Tess, and placed them in glass jars filled with water.

“Thanks.” He finished his bottle and handed her one of the cereal bars Kade had given them earlier. “I’ve decided to become an architect.”

She took a bite of her bar and glanced at him. She was hungry because she’d not eaten breakfast. “It’s a great idea.”

He rolled his eyes. “I haven’t told Pops yet.”

She bumped her shoulder against his. “I’m sure both of your parents will support your decision.”

“I hope so. I’m not big and strong like Rafe—”

“Please don’t compare yourself to your brother. Your family loves you just as you are. Besides, you’re sixteen. When Rafe was sixteen, he was…” She paused.

“Over six feet tall.” Philip glanced at her, and they both laughed.

“You’ll grow.” She pointed to the peace lilies they’d repotted into larger containers. “Can you move those to the altar?”

“Of course.” Philip picked up the first pot and carried it down the aisle. “What are you doing about music?”

“Nothing. There’s no sound system in the church, and I don’t have a radio or speaker to hook my old phone up to.”

“I’ll take care of the music.” They finished moving the pots when the front door opened. Grady Mercer stomped in, stopped, and smiled. “The church looks beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She nodded at Philip. “I couldn’t have done it without help.”

Philip blushed again and then escaped with the excuse of needing to work on the music.

Grady nodded and shuffled his feet. “I’m running some errands for Miss Ida. Do you need anything from the mainland?”

“No, thank you.” The church's bells rang, marking the time as two p.m. “Grady.” She paused to clear her throat. “Would you speak to my father—”

“I did.” His frown deepened the lines on his sun-darkened face. “Gerald said he won't walk you down the aisle. And I wouldn't count on him coming to this wedding.”

“Don't let Grady discourage you.” The refined male voice came from behind her, and she turned to see Calum Prioleau standing in the doorway, holding a paper bag. “Gerald may yet surprise us all.”

She ran into the arms of her best friend, not caring if she wrinkled his perfectly-pressed blue and white seersucker suit. “I'm so glad you're here.”

He hugged her back, and after he released her, he shook Grady's hand. “I'd never let anything small, like a flight from Paris, keep me from this wedding.”

Grady clapped Calum on the shoulder. “Good to see you, son. I'm off to help my own bride set up a reception.”

After Grady left, Calum gave her a quizzical look. “What was that about?”

She took his hand and led him to a pew. Once they were both seated, she told him everything that had happened this morning.

When she was finished, he said, “I left Father Thomas across the street in Mamie's Café and noticed Miss Tess and Miss Ida bustling about. Did you actually ask people for help?”

She waved a hand around the church. “It's nothing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I disagree. But I don't want to argue with you on your wedding day. Instead, I want to make you an offer. Would you let me walk you down the aisle?”

She shifted in her seat to meet his ice-blue gaze. Although he was a bit younger, his sophistication and confidence—which probably came from his family's fortune—made him appear older.

She took his hand. “Pops has offered as well, but I'm declining. If my father won't do it, I’ll walk myself down the aisle.”

Calum kissed her hand and released it. “I understand. But if you change your mind—”

“I won't.”

He stood and smiled. “Then let’s have lunch and I can give you your present.”

Once they were outside, settled on an iron bench in the churchyard within the shade of a Hawthorn tree, Calum handed her a sandwich and a cold soda from the bag. “Have you eaten today?”

“I had a cereal bar.” She opened the can and took a sip. The cold fizzy beverage settled in her stomach, making it growl.

Calum shook his head and handed her the sandwich. “You eat while I talk.”

That sounded serious. She took a bite, then another sip. The BLT was perfect, even if the toast was a bit cold. “What's up?”

“I wish you'd stayed at my parents' house on the Isle of Grace last night. You could've slept in late, pampered yourself in the outrageous bathrooms my momma just remodeled, and gotten dressed there.”

She found a napkin in the bag and wiped her lips. “Capel Manor is my home, Calum. Although a hot shower would've been nice, especially since I had to wash my hair this morning.”

He frowned. “There's no hot water at the manor?”

“There hasn't been for a few weeks now,” she said around a bite of sandwich.

He exhaled heavily, as if dealing with the world's financial woes. “I wish you'd told me. I could've—”

“Calum”—she wiped her mouth again—“you don't need to save me.”

“I don't want to save you, Juliet. But you don't have to do every dam—”

She touched his lips. “No cussing on my wedding day.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He took her hand and lowered it. “Does Rafe know about this rule?”

“Yes, he does.” She took another drink of soda. “What's wrong? Your eyebrow furrows are inches deep.”

“I'm frustrated by my inability to control this situation with your father.” Calum waved a hand toward Mamie's Café. “If I'd known about your dress, I would've bought you one in Paris.”

“Calum.” She touched his arm. “I appreciate your concern, but I am managing all of these crises.”

“Life should be about more than managing and surviving.”

He sounded like Rafe. “Did you come home from Europe just to lecture me?”

“Maybe.” She laughed, and Calum added, “I hope you let Rafe love you like you deserve to be loved.” Calum took a flat blue box out of his jacket pocket. “Enough heavy talk. This is for you.”

Juliet wiped her hands and threw all the trash into the bag. Then she took the box and opened it. She inhaled sharply and covered her mouth with one hand. Nestled in the blue velvet, she found a silver chain with a silver lily pendant. A pearl was set within the lily and matched the drop pearl earrings. “Oh, Calum. They're beautiful.”

“It reminded me of the Capel lilies that used to grow on the isle when we were kids.” He took the necklace out of the box, and she turned so he could put it around her neck. “Do you remember the time that scary man Sebastian attacked us in the Cemetery of Lost Children and threw us in Anne Capel’s crypt?”

She touched the pendant. “Yes.” That had been one of the most terrifying days of her life. She hated to think what would've happened if Rafe hadn't found them. He'd been hunting without permission, and had blown the lock off the tomb to free them. Unfortunately, she still had nightmares about that horrible day. “It was awful.”

Calum focused on the church. The white church with tall black shutters appeared even smaller from the outside than the inside. “I think I saw Sebastian—the man who terrorized us.”

She dropped the box onto her lap and faced Calum. “Where?”

“In a jewelry shop in Paris. As I was buying your pearls, a man hovered nearby. He seemed familiar, but in the moment I couldn’t place him.”

She put the earrings on, one by one. Surely Calum was mistaken. “Did the man say anything?”

“While the jeweler was wrapping your gift, this man asked me who was getting married. When I mentioned you and Rafe and the Isle of Grace, his face... darkened.” Calum ran a hand through his blond hair. A very uncharacteristic gesture for him. “He looked angry enough to hit someone. Then he whispered, 'these violent delights have violent ends.’”

“I don’t understand.” Juliet’s heart began to race, and she stood, shaking out her hands. “Why would he say something like that?”

“I don't know.” Calum watched her as she paced in front of him. “He left immediately, and it wasn’t until later I realized he reminded me of Sebastian, the man who attacked us in the Cemetery of Lost Children.”

She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “That was such an awful-yet-strange day.”

“Do you remember, after Rafe freed us by blowing away the lock on the crypt with Pops’s shotgun, that Sebastian appeared again and made Rafe swear an oath about... something. He did it to save us.”

“Sebastian made Rafe swear an oath of fealty.” She waved a hand around. “Are you sure it was the same man?”

“No.” Calum held out both hands. “It may have been… but I can’t be positive. I think my younger self blocked out most of that day.”

She sat and clasped his fingers. After they’d emerged from the cemetery, dirty and covered in scratches, Rafe had gotten in trouble for taking his father’s shotgun without permission and Calum’s parents sent him off to boarding school without his twin sister. A situation that Calum, even though he was now in college, still never discussed. “I’m so sorry—”

“No.” He squeezed her fingers. “Nothing about that day was your fault.”

“You followed me off the bus because kids from the isle were bullying me.”

Calum frowned. “Jimmy and Tommy Boudreaux, as well as a bunch of other kids, were chasing you. I’m still not sure I can ever forgive them.”

“I had to forgive them.” She sniffled because, of course, she was crying again. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. He had to be one of the last men in the world who carried a handkerchief, and she was grateful. She dabbed her eyes with the white cotton. “I got tired of hanging on to all the anger. That kind of bitterness has destroyed my father.”

“You’re nothing like your father.”

"I’m not so sure.” Tess’s lecture on ‘grace’ came back to Juliet, and she realized that all day she’d been fighting setback after setback. And she was tired. She just wanted to walk down the aisle and begin her new life. Even if she had to do it in her jeans, T-shirt, and a messy ponytail. “Thank you for telling me, Calum. But I don’t want to worry about the past anymore. I’m done caring about what others think or what they believe, including my own father and some strange man from eight years ago.”

“I wasn’t sure whether or not to say anything, but I—”

“It’s okay.” She wiped her nose with the handkerchief and slipped it into her back pocket. She’d make sure to wash it before returning it. “I appreciate you looking out for me. And I want to assure you I’m not afraid to marry Rafe. I don't care about curses or warnings or my father's lack of support.” She paused when the church bell struck two-thirty. “In ninety minutes, I'm marrying the man I love. No matter what anyone—including my father and the scary guy you may or may not have seen in Paris—says.”

“If you’re sure”—Calum stood and held out his hand—“you need to get ready. You can’t meet your groom dressed like that.”

She rose, laughing. “Then let’s go find my dress so I can marry the man I love.”

Chapter Five

An hour later, Juliet came out of the bathroom attached to Miss Mamie's sewing room and dropped her overnight bag onto the sewing table. She’d taken a quick shower, finished her makeup, braided her hair, and twisted it into a low bun.

She tied the belt of her cotton robe and slipped on her white satin pumps. Then she adjusted the necklace Calum had given her. Now she just needed her dress and veil.

When she'd returned to Mamie's Café, she'd spent a few minutes with Father Thomas. He'd been sitting at the bar, drinking iced tea and talking to Kade about baseball. Since Rafe hadn't been able to get home the night before, they'd not had a rehearsal. But it was such a small wedding, Father Thomas wasn’t worried about protocol. After they discussed the order of the service, she'd come upstairs to get changed. Yet she'd not seen Tess or Ida or Grady.

But, like she'd said to Calum earlier, she didn't care anymore. And if some creepy man in Paris thought he'd frighten her out of marrying Rafe, then she wished she'd have the chance to tell him he was wrong.

Yes, she could scold with the best of them.

“There you are.” Tess came into the room carrying a zippered dress bag. She wore a lilac-colored linen shift and had twisted her hair into a French braid decorated with fresh gardenias. “I couldn't get Miss Mamie's iron to work properly, so I ran home to finish your dress. Are you ready?”

Juliet held onto her robe's belt and nodded.

Tess hung up the dress bag and unzippered it. Juliet pressed a hand against her lower stomach. Tess had added lace along the hemline, neckline, and sleeves. “It doesn't look like the same dress.”

Tess took it off the hangar and shook out the skirt. “I didn't like the heavy lining. So I replaced it with lightweight silk I had stashed away.” She lifted the skirt away from the lining. “I also added some tulle to add fullness to the skirt. Let's try it on.”

A few moments later, Juliet stood in front of the mirror while Tess tied a white satin ribbon around her waist. Then she added the veil.

Juliet was stunned by the effect the veil had. For the first time that day, she felt like a bride. “It’s beautiful.”

Tess took off the sapphire bracelet she wore for special occasions and slipped it onto Juliet's wrist. “The dress is something old, and the necklace is something new. The veil is something borrowed, and my bracelet is something blue.”

Juliet touched the blue stones, and her eyes filled again. Seriously, she had to stop crying. It wasn’t funny anymore. “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me yet.” Tess checked her watch. “Sit tight. I'll be back soon.”

Tess hurried out of the room, and Juliet moved to the window that overlooked the road and the church across the street. She saw three things at once: Rafe entered the rectory building, off to the side of the church, carrying his dress blue Army uniform. Tess emerged from the café and met Philip near the old gas pumps. He handed her a small basket filled with white flowers. Then, near the church steps, she saw her father.

He hadn't changed clothes, but when Tess hurried over to him, they spoke for a few minutes before he walked toward the rectory. Then Tess went inside the church.

Juliet gripped the window frame. What was going on?

She waited another twenty minutes. During that time, Rafe, Calum, Philip, Pops, Kade, and Father Thomas entered the church.

When Tess didn’t reappear, and there was less than ten minutes before the ceremony, Juliet left the café.

She walked slowly across the dirt road, trying to keep her white shoes clean. While she was happy everyone she loved was in the church, no one else had shown up.

And her father had disappeared.

She paused near the church steps. Something glittered on the stairs.

Her hair combs.

Tess appeared in the church doorway, carrying the basket. The smell of fresh gardenias surrounded Juliet.

Tess picked up the hair combs and smiled. “Your father must have left these.”

“Is he coming to the wedding?”

“He wouldn't say.” Tess placed the basket on the top step. “Turn around.”

Juliet did as she was told. Since Tess stood above her, it was easy for her to add the silver hair combs and fresh gardenia blossoms to where the veil was attached to her head.

“Remember,” Tess said as she took bobby pins out of her dress pocket. “We're only thinking happy thoughts.”

Kade came out of the church carrying the two bouquets and his camera. He'd changed into khaki pants, a white dress shirt, and a blue blazer. “It's almost time.”

Tess took the smaller bouquet and wiped her cheeks with her palms. Then she held out a hand to Juliet. “Ready?”

Juliet nodded because her throat had closed up. It was time to meet Rafe. It was time to get married.

Rafe waited near the altar along with Calum, his best man, and inhaled the scents of lavender and gardenias. Father Thomas stood on the altar while Pops and Philip were in the first pew.

Grady and Ida Mercer, along with the Boudreaux boys, were still working on his surprise for Juliet. Rafe had also seen Gerald briefly, but he wouldn't relent on his decision not to walk Juliet down the aisle. Rafe believed Gerald would one day regret this decision, and that was the older man's problem. Not Rafe's or Juliet's.

Now Juliet and his mother were outside with Kade, taking photographs.

“Where are the guests?” Calum asked in a low voice.

“This is it.” Rafe had told Calum about his secret plan. Although Calum had approved, the plan also meant few people would show up for the ceremony. “Trust me. It will be okay.”

Kade entered the church, carrying the camera, and hurried up the aisle to position himself on the other side of the altar.

His mother appeared in the doorway with a lavender and gardenia bouquet, and Philip pressed a button on his phone attached to a wireless speaker. The sound of Liszt's Liebestraum filled the church, and his mother walked down the aisle. She stood next to Kade and turned to face the entrance.

When Juliet appeared, backed by sunlight, Rafe stopped breathing. She floated towards him, a vision in white, and his heart expanded in his chest until he was sure it would burst.

It was as if he'd been waiting for this day his entire life. Yet, now that it had arrived, he couldn’t move, much less speak. Once at the altar, she took his hand and met his gaze.

As they spoke their vows, Rafe knew she was the only woman he'd ever love. Forever and always.

“You may kiss your bride.” Father Thomas's voice barely registered over the pounding of Rafe's heart.

It wasn't until Juliet touched his cheek, stood on her toes, and pressed her lips against his that he was able to take control of the situation. A long minute later, he released her. His mother appeared with hugs, his father shook everyone's hands, and Philip's smile matched Calum's.

As Rafe took Juliet's arm to walk down the aisle, he noticed a man outside the front door. Gerald.

The moment Gerald caught Rafe's eye, Gerald hurried away. By the time they were on the church steps, with Kade directing them for photos, Juliet’s father had disappeared.

Chapter Six

“Thank you, Rafe,” Juliet said in a breathless voice as he twirled her around the dance floor at Boudreaux's. A local Cajun band was playing her favorite Creole waltz on the nearby bandstand. “I can't believe you did this without telling me.”

“I didn't do it alone.” When he pulled her back into his arms, he whispered, “Ida and Grady Mercer spoke to every family on the isle, except for the Marigny family. And they all showed up for you. It's also why no one came to the ceremony. They were too busy cooking and setting up everything here.”

She took in all of the people she'd known since she was a child, dancing or milling about near picnic tables, drinking and eating. Even Father Thomas was socializing while holding a glass of Tess’s champagne punch. It'd been years since she'd seen so many people of the isle here at one time. And lots of families had brought food to share. It was the best wedding present she could've asked for. “It wouldn't have mattered if you'd invited the Marigny boys. Every time the isle has a party, they poach on Capel land.”

Rafe laughed and spun her again until her veil floated in soft waves, obscuring her vision. “I have something else to tell you. When I checked in with my unit earlier, my buddy Nate told me I'd been given the extra day of leave I requested. So we don't have to return to Fort Bragg until Monday afternoon.”

She shivered and returned to his arms. “Can we afford another night in a hotel?” He'd admitted he'd spent all of their honeymoon money on this reception.

“Yes.” Rafe kissed her nose. “You can thank Calum when he cuts in. He gifted us two nights in the honeymoon suite at the Mills House Hotel in Charleston.”

She pulled back slightly to meet his gaze. “You're okay taking his money?”

Rafe shrugged and offered her a secret smile. “It's a wedding gift.”

She bit her bottom lip. She was both excited and nervous.

The music ended and she heard a male voice say, “May I have this dance?”

“Of course,” Rafe said.

She turned to find her father standing nearby. He’d changed into a clean pair of jeans with a blue button-down shirt. The band began another slow waltz, and she took his arm.

They moved in silence for a few minutes. She inhaled his pine-scented cologne and tears pricked… again. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d danced together.

“Juliet,” her father said softly. “I’m sorry.”

She was still sad he hadn’t walked her down the aisle, but she wouldn’t let it ruin her wedding day. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I came to tell you I love you. In case you didn’t know.” His gruff voice sounded choked up. “But I also need to warn you.”

The waltz ended and the band was tuning their fiddles and guitars. She pulled away to look up at him. His gray eyes were now the color of ash, and her heart clenched. “What about?”

He kissed her forehead. “If Rafe isn’t careful, he will break your heart.”

She inhaled sharply just as she heard Calum’s voice say, “May I have this dance?”

Gerald whispered words in Juliet’s ear, nodded at Calum, and walked away.

The band picked back up, and she allowed Calum to lead the way. She was too preoccupied watching her father walk toward the river where Rafe and a man she didn’t recognize stood talking.

“Hey, beautiful.” Calum squeezed her waist. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head to reorient her focus on her best friend. “I think so. I just wish I didn’t worry so much about things.” Like her father’s warnings.

Calum winked. “Then let me tell you what Miss Ida said to Old Man Boudreaux.”

As they danced, Calum passed on local gossip. By the time he finished, she was laughing so hard she had to find a chair to sit down.

When Calum went off to check on the cake, Rafe appeared, pulled her back onto the dance floor, and took her into his arms. “I love hearing you laugh.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I plan to do it more often, now that we’re married.”

While they moved together slowly, Rafe said, “I met one of your dad’s bowing men.”

“Really?” For almost a year, her father had been telling her to stay away from men who bow. “Every time he mentions them, I wonder if he’s having delusions.”

“Nope.” Rafe kissed her head. “You father is considering allowing a group of men to use Capel land for an annual hunting trip. Since one of the men is from Europe, he has a more formal way of addressing others. Apparently, he bows when he meets people.”

“How unusual.” She looked around the area and didn’t see her father anywhere. “Although I’m surprised. My father is so strict about visitors and trespassers. He even ran off a group of lost bird watchers a few weeks ago. They’re lucky he didn’t shoot them.”

Rafe chuckled. “According to Pops, your father needs the money he’ll charge these men for hunting on his land to pay the taxes.”

“I’ve always wondered how he managed to do things like pay taxes.” She smiled up at Rafe and considered telling him about Calum’s experience in Paris. But she didn’t want to spoil the mood. Instead, she told him about her dance with her father, ending with, “My father said one day I will have to be brave enough to save you. I will be your only hope.”

Although the warning had distressed her at the time, she kept her voice light and happy, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a wife to save her husband.

She wasn’t going to let her father’s warnings ruin her wedding.

Except Rafe’s face paled, and he stopped moving. He held her face within his palms and said, “Your father is right about the last part, and that’s what I want you to focus on. You are my only hope. You are my only love. You are surrounded by people who adore you, a town that wants to celebrate with you. And while what your father said was odd, it has no bearing on our future life together. There’s something else…”

“What?”

“Your father came to the ceremony. He watched you walk down the aisle and witnessed our marriage. He was there, Juliet. Because he loves you.”

Even though her father had said the words earlier, relief washed over her. Maybe Rafe was right. In his imperfect way, her father did love her. “I wish I’d seen him.”

“I do too.” Rafe kissed her, long and hard, until she was sure of one thing.

Today she’d risked her heart by asking others for help and was rewarded with a husband and a community who loved her. Regardless of her father’s warning, Calum’s Parisian adventure, and the so-called bowing men, she and Rafe were going to have a wonderful, happy life together.

When he lifted his head, he whispered, “Forever and always.”

“Yes, my love,” she whispered back. “Forever and always.”

Thank you for reading about Juliet and Rafe’s wedding day, a prequel to Every Deep Desire, book 1 in the Deadly Force series. Although their wedding has a happy ending, this is just the beginning of their story. A story about betrayal, trust, and the redeeming power of grace fueled by a once-in-a-lifetime true love. It’s a passionate romantic suspense retelling of Romeo and Juliet, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it.

About the Author

Sharon Wray

Sharon, a Jersey girl who landed in Virginia, is a chemical & patent librarian who once studied dress design in the couture houses of Paris and worked as a Red Cross caseworker in South Korea. Because it took her forever to decide what she wanted to do when she grew up, she now writes romance and women’s fiction novels filled with suspense, adventure, and love.

Her bestselling Deadly Force romantic suspense series is set in a world with scary assassins who bow before killing, sexy Green Berets seeking redemption, and smart, sassy heroines who save them all. It’s also a world where, since Sharon is slow and clumsy, her chances of making it out alive would be slim.

She’s repped by Deidre Knight and Kristy Hunter of The Knight Agency. To sign up for Sharon’s newsletter, learn more about her books, and to see a map of Isle of Grace, visit her website at www.sharonwray.com.

Sunflowers Are Yellow

By Kim Adkins

Chapter One

My name is Doctor Stan Bubbles, and I am the youngest son of Overlord Yoshin Bubbles of Farysha and have no chance of inheriting anything from my father. As such, I studied medicine at the Archipelago University and eventually found a job under the name Stan Kadhäb in my hometown of Hykur.

Why did I get a job so close to a family that more or less hates me? I’m not sure. Maybe because the city was familiar to me after having spent most of my life studying on tropical islands. Maybe it was because I subconsciously hoped that Father would include me more often.

I don’t know why I thought that a totalitarian dictator would ever change his opinion to love someone he sent away, but I guess it’s a hope every estranged son has.

The one thing it would seem he does right is take in refugees from war zones and “iffy” countries. There are always border disputes, raids, or even just high crime rates like we surprisingly have that result in people looking for a better life. We primarily see a large number of Orcs coming in from our northern border with Paryda, but others take the treacherous journey through the Black Mountains to hide in our valley.

I was at just over a year in at Hykur Memorial, a couple hours into a slow shift, when the sound of a helicopter taking off echoed through the halls. I looked up alongside the nurses I was talking to at their semi-circular desk in the middle of a hallway intersection. The hall had been built around the desk, the hall here more or less in the shape of a diamond than the typical crossing lines, with the desk itself edging up to the flat of one wall and three office doors on the others. Everyone had to walk around the desk or interact with it to get anywhere.

“First time in a week,” Fraydas’ small voice chirped from behind the desk. Frayda Kolour was a small sprite, a type of the Fae Folk that lived in either the Archipelago or Sequa. Sprites were known for having two “variations” they called Clans that had different behavioral traits. Frayda was of the Iridece Clan, as colorful as they were playful yet with a love of helping others. The other Clan, that of Clan Blaok, were darker with golden shimmers in their wings. Those were the Sprites you did not want to meet in a dark alleyway at night. I was of the opinion that the color of a Sprite was determined by how they chose to act, but supposedly that was just me.

Needless to say, I was very glad we had Frayda, as she was one of the hardest working nurses.

I sighed heavily. “Wonder what it is this time?”

Her little fingers clicked away at the keyboard. “Judging by the last few helicopter rescues we’ve had, specifically the past ten, we’re looking at an eighty percent chance that we have either a stabbing or gunshot victim from the inner city that will be too late to save.”

“Yet pointy knives and guns are a death sentence to own.” Rolling my eyes was not a strong enough gesture. A couple generations back all “weapons” were outlawed, and if caught by the Armed Forces or anyone who turned you in often led to your execution as soon as you were found. That being said if you were alright with going into shady areas of the cities you can easily find knives, guns, swords, and more. The whole concept was hypocritical. Criminals could kill and harm all they want, but if your run of the mill family man tried to defend himself with a pocket knife? Blame’s on him and he pays with his life.

“Ten percent chance,” Frayda continued, ignoring my comment, “that this is a crash victim, five percent already dead from a cardiac episode or stroke, five percent something else.”

She looked up as the pager on my belt buzzed violently. Warily, I snagged it and brought it up to speak into. “Doctor Kadhäb.”

“Stan, need ya up in ICU Surgery One, two minutes ago,” came a voice. Doctor Kronda Goldenbeard, a dwarf with an attitude far bigger than his stature.

“En route,” I responded, already spinning around and on the move to the elevators. “What do we have?”

“Young girl, refugee, Akytan. Manticore attack in the Passes on top of other injuries. More will be coming in, but Border is flying her to us.”

“Antivenom?” I pressed the button to go to the top floor and tapped my foot impatiently. I was beginning to feel like this little girl I hadn’t even seen yet wasn’t long for this world. If I had to leave to help others, being one of only two doctors usually on hand on floor level and the only doctor in the area that commanded magic, her chances of survival would become dramatically slimmer.

“Being administered in helicopter, or so I was told.”

“Other injuries?”

“Gods be damned yer takin’ ferever,” he grumbled.

“I can’t help it that they have yet to fix the elevator, stairs would still take longer, and I’d be sweating. Injuries?”

He huffed before responding. “Puncture to the chest, collapsed right lung, broken leg that severed the femoral artery, possible infected cuts across arms, legs, hands, and feet.”

I shook my head and started moving as the elevator doors opened. I spoke aloud without even realizing it. “What would drive them to walk through the Passes? It’s insanity.”

An Elven nurse was waiting to lead me and assist with getting me prepped for surgery. Already I could hear the faint sound of the helicopter returning in the distance. “Obræ has been attacking Akytan coastal towns and laid siege to Wrybus. Haven’t you been watching the news?”

I gave her a dry look. Hope and humor had left my system quite a few months ago. “Working in this country has been depressing enough without the news and media on top of it.”

“Then move.”

I laughed. “Have you tried going through that process?” I asked her. “Most people die before they get approved and never get to see the country they desire to emigrate to.” My face was level and serious, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her jaw tensed, and she looked away, opening doors for me into the pre-op room. “I’m sure they’d let a doctor cross borders.”

I shook my head. “Only to study at the Archipelago. Doctors here are so rare I’m certain I’d just end up working in a military camp.”

She looked at me over her shoulder. “How can you be so sure?”

I just shrugged and kept quiet. It wouldn’t do to tell her how I know that. I may have been a small child when I saw some of the horrors Father put into action, and my oldest brother Harry had kept me in the loop of everything he wanted to change. While he now had general control, there was little he could do to push forward these changes until he himself bore the title of Overlord. Meanwhile, all I could do was survive and keep my head down.

But she wouldn’t understand that, and would chase me out once she learned of my lineage. So, I simply kept my mouth shut and continued the sanitation process in silence.

As the chopping sound of the ‘copter came closer, I washed up and joined Kronda to wait in the operating room.

“Slowpoke.” The Dwarf snorted from his stepstool.

“I beat the helicopter in, didn’t I?” I looked down at him. “Besides, I’m the only magic user you have on hand.”

“Yer the only one in the hospital.”

“Poor you, you have no choice but to work with me.”

He smirked, the edge of his mouth pulling up a tidy braid made up from half his mustache. Nurses had tried to net up all his facial hair, but they seemed to settle for the pristine braid work instead. “There’s worse folk to work with, I suppose.”

“And I guess there are worse Dwarves to work with.”

That broke him. A full smile lifted the mustache, and he shook his head. “Ah, good ta see ya Stan. Ya don’t git up ‘ere enough.”

Though I returned the smile, the warmth of his was lacking in mine. The difference between someone here because they wanted to help versus someone who also wanted to help but had little choice as to where they could be.

The air snapped to a more serious note as we heard doors opening and people shouting orders and other bits of information. We stood in silence, listening to measurements of this and that, heart rates, blood pressure, and all the information being called out.

Around us, nurses moved like shadows, their feet whispering on the ground as they programmed the machines and prepped medications. Everyone moved as if we were an orchestra even before our patient was before us.

Then, after the longest second of pure silence, we were moving as the door was pulled open.

I moved first, getting within the range of the young patients’ aura to work. “Kronda, remove decompression bandage in three, two, one.” As I counted down, I focused her aura around the chest injury to work as the bandage had, allowing Doctor Kronda to access and treat the wound with less risk.

As he began to move, I shifted to the injuries on her limbs. The hundreds of small cuts were infected, bad. Her feet were almost completely skinned. She had made the trek through the Black Mountains without shoes, a dangerous endeavor. Somewhere deep inside me, I was impressed that she even dared to do so instead of going to a neighboring country. Then again, Paryda was always attacking and was very vocal against refugees.

“Nurse, get Aymox in here now and get these cuts washed out. Gangr has already set in.”

“On it,” came a soft response as one of the nurses in the room moved with speed usually only seen on a racetrack.

“How’s the leg?” Kronda asked.

“Bad, the cut has brought the infection through faster, made worse by the manticore venom.”

He didn’t respond, save for a soft growl that rippled the air. I felt the same as my own hands moved, my eyes half-focused. I didn’t need my eyes to work. I followed the feel of her aura mixed with my own, becoming totally immersed in the magic. With the blood flow lessened by the tourniquet, I was able to start repairing the damage, but the infection had spread and wasn’t backing down.

Yanking on the strap, I pulled the tourniquet off, using my magic in its place as I had on the chest. It was just getting in my way as I had to move the limb, which required some blood flow. In this way, I had more control over the situation.

Together we worked as time flew, our hands moving, simple orders being spoken to increase this, decrease that, hold this, cut that. Neither of us looked at the clock nor asked for the time, so when the decision was made that the leg was lost, it felt like only a few minutes had passed instead of a couple hours. It was a choice we hated to make, even with criminals, since it was a messy procedure, but the Gangr was not responding to the Aymox and was only being strengthened by the remaining venom.

In total, we were in surgery for four and a half hours, and the little girl was through the worst.

We left her to the nurses to transfer to the ICU and went to clean up.

“That went better than expected,” Kronda noted.

I shrugged. “Not out of the woods yet.”

“Doctor Kadhäb to first-floor triage,” called over the speakers.

My shoulders sagged, I knew this was coming, but it hurt and was tiring all the same. I pulled up my pager and pushed the button to speak to the nurses’ desk. “On the way, ETA as fast as the elevator goes.”

“Understood,” Fraydas’ small voice responded.

I turned to go but paused and looked back at Kronda. He was leaning against the wall, looking tired, but I knew he was listening to the myriad of beeps and other sounds of machinery, each aging past its prime. I could barely hear it myself, but I didn’t have the ears of a Dwarf.

“You going to be able to handle this?” I asked.

He snorted again. “Of course, go save lives. They need ya more than I do up ‘ere now.”

I nodded. “Give a call if another helicopter comes in.”

“Go,” he whispered, shifting to move towards the door.

I hastily walked to the elevators, Kronda leaving the room after me and taking a different route to monitor screens. I chose not to run. Yes, I’d have a moment to catch my breath in the elevator, but I didn’t want the sweat all over me. As much as many hospitals in Farysha didn’t seem to care, I at least kept a professional and tight shift with sanitation as a top priority.

The downside was that meant we were often the busiest hospital in the city, much less the country. We also were not the best staffed. You’d be amazed at how few people wanted to work when they’ve given paychecks and basic needs to stay at home and watch television.

I was just doing it because, at first, I wanted to help save people. Now? Now I just had nothing better to do.

I stifled a yawn as the doors opened to what can only be described as pure chaos. I tapped the back of my head against the wall of the elevator for a moment as I called into my pager. “Doctor Kronda, if you have a minute to help with the zoo down here, it looks like I’ll need a hand.”

“What, no Doctor Kryg?”

“Called in sick.” As soon as I stepped foot out of the little box of potential death, a nurse was beside me, taking the small device so I could work with both my hands.

“Damn drunk,” I heard Kronda curse over the pager. “A’ight, I’m on my way.”

For the most part, people were coming in with severe reactions to infected cuts. I was amazed that so many of them even made it to Farysha through the Pass. The predators alone killed half of their group, and infections from cuts against the harsh stones did a number on the rest.

The worst they had were broken limbs, which were a bit too much for the nurses to handle on their own. Together Kronda and I set and prepped ten bones each for casts. Many others had broken ribs, for which we could only give bed rest and medication.

Thankfully no one died on us, a rarity on occasions like this. Though Kronda was still worried about the girl upstairs and left the moment he was no longer needed. With assistance from the nursing team, I finished up after another handful of hours.

I collapsed into the chair behind my desk, glancing at the clock. Nine hours had passed, yet I wasn’t anywhere near done with my shift. We had, in total, ten doctors who worked at the two Emergency Centers. Normally a shift had one primary on the top floor ICU and two on the ground floor. Today one had called in sick, which left two. The rest of us alternated our normally twelve-hour shifts and off days, though usually at least one called in sick a shift, or we ended up overlapping for one reason or another.

Either way, I held no ideals that I’d be able to leave for another five hours at the least.

A minute into me avoiding my paperwork, Kronda rang me on my pager. “Stan, ya busy?”

“Just sat down.” I didn’t try to hide the growl in my voice. “How’s the girl?”

“I was hopin’ ya’d be able ta come up ‘n keep an eye on her.”

“Let me guess, you want a break?”

“I see ya got yer brains back.”

I leaned forward onto my elbows. “And the nurses?”

“Nurse. She could use a hand.”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt if I came up and checked her vitals.”

“See, we think alike.” His voice had a fake, chipper quality to it that didn’t hide how tired he was.

“Can I at least grab a snack?”

“You can use the fridge up ‘ere.”

I thought for a moment. “How well-stocked is it?”

He laughed. It was a little more earnest and hearty than his earlier attempt to sound happy. “Only two or three people tops eat from it. Plenty ta go round.”

“I’ll be right up.”

Our fridges down here often attracted the waiting walk-ins. Being a government-funded hospital, we weren’t allowed to charge for food or drink in a vending machine, so many would come in with a bumped toe, not even have a bruise, and fill up their pockets and purses with food, then walk out after the nurses signed off on their case.

The top floor, however, was the Intensive Care Unit and Helicopter Emergency Room, so only three people had regular access to its contents.

I was in for a feast.

Sure, I could use my family name and pull strings to get the hospital more funding, which I had done before, but something deep inside kept me from getting everything fixed and funded. Maybe I was scared they’d find out I was a Bubbles, youngest son of a tyrant, and would force me to leave, to begin anew. Maybe it was pride, a royal princeling hiding among the commoners like legends of old.

Or maybe I just didn’t want to be like my family, pulling all the cards to get what they wanted. I didn’t even do much with my apartment.

My stomach started painfully yelling at me as I stood in the elevator. I hadn’t eaten since that morning, well before my shift.

Kronda smiled and went to his office when I came up and raided the fridge like a starving animal. It might have been stocked with sandwiches of spicy greens, cheese, and meats alongside sauce packets, juice pouches, chips, and meat sticks, but when you have been running on empty for hours not even soft lobster boiled in pepper butter tastes better.

Leena, a human nurse with the deeper skin of Othyl sands, chuckled at me, trying to find a space to sit and eat my armfuls of wrapped sandwiches and chips, a juice pouch or four hanging from my mouth.

“Go to the ICU,” she spoke in a deep, velvety voice, “and eat in the monitoring area. There should be a small table.”

Awkwardly, I set the pouches down on the desk so I could talk to her. “The girl been identified yet, or her parents show up?”

She shook her head. “I think her mom is in one of the rooms downstairs. Doctor Goldenbeard said a woman who looked similar was muttering incoherently in regards to someone missing.”

“Can you send word to Frayda and the other nurses down there to keep an eye on her and ask when she wakes up, please? I’ll go check on the girl and do the same should she wake up.”

Leena nodded and leaned back in her chair as she typed. “Any plans on moving her to a larger room if that is the mother?”

I shrugged. “In the end, it’s Kronda’s decision, not mine. Right now, I’d advise against it, as there are no multi-bed rooms up here, and we need to keep an eye on her recovery, especially on that chest wound. The mother can visit, if that is her, but will not be able to stay.”

“I understand,” she said softly, her fingers dancing across the keyboard with years of practice.

I grabbed my juice pouches back up with my mouth, which must have been a sight to see as Leena was trying hard not to chuckle, and backed up into the ICU room.

The room itself had one glass wall, from which Leena at the nurses' station could be seen alongside a myriad of screens mirroring those displaying readings from the little girl in the big bed in the center of the room. The walls were a pale yellow, the paint having been stamped on in a sort of barely visible pattern. Those that didn’t sit here watching nothing go on would notice the multiple shades of yellow, making the walls almost resemble fields of flowers. The ceiling was a soft blue, clouds hastily painted on in various shapes for whoever was stuck in bed to watch. I felt the clouds were too cartoonish and wished that the designer had gotten a more legit artist to do the work. The only issue there, however, was actually finding a Faryshan artist that wasn’t illegally spraypainting walls.

The bed was not quite up against the wall, giving doctors and nurses room to walk behind her head and all around, dodging the machines with awkward grace. Opposite the bed was a small table with a couple chairs and a small couch against one wall.

No windows, televisions, or framed prints broke up the yellow on any of the walls. Not even a picture of my father at his prime nor any of my grandfathers that came before him were to be seen. Our flag hung behind the nurses' station, but not in here.

It was as barren as the hopes of almost all who came in here.

Almost grudgingly, I set my feast down at the table and walked over to the little girl, placing my hand about an inch over her intact leg. I closed my eyes and reached out with my aura into hers.

She was healing. The infections and venoms were more or less out of her system. The biggest threat to her life now was the injury to her lung, which wasn’t yet properly functioning.

Sadly, there was nothing else I could do with my magic at this point, so I returned to the table to eat my fill until Kronda returned from his break.

He sat down next to me, his head barely above the surface of the table. “Any changes?”

I shook my head. “No, but she seems to be on the right track. Infection and venom have left her system.”

“Good, good.” He trailed off, watching her small chest rise and fall in tandem with the beeps and other mechanical sounds that filled the otherwise silent room.

“You think she’ll make it?”

He thought a moment before giving a sharp nod. “Yeah, need to ‘ave hope that she will. She’s already lasted this long, even though it’s just been a few hours.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding in. “I guess that’s good.”

Kronda returned his attention to me. “Ya guess?”

I looked away, studying the rather ugly green shade of the couch. “Not like she can leave the country, after coming all this way, to get to some sort of safety.”

“Not like any of us can,” Kronda whispered.

We sat in awkward not-actually-silent-silence for a few minutes before I rose and gathered up the remains of my feast, half a sandwich and a small bag of chips, and headed back out the double doors to the elevator.

The following few days were slow. No new intakes save for those trying to circumvent their primary care provider or who did something stupid and needed us to tell them to not do it again. We were able to confirm that the lady was indeed the girl's mother, Olyna Kuval. The girl, Danyla, had woken up from occasionally but was generally incoherent and went back to sleep within a short matter of time.

From Olyna, we learned that they had been walking from their home near the shores of Akyta, where Obræn raiders had been attacking villages. Wrybus, the capital city, was well under siege, and they had seen that Farysha was welcoming all refugees and housing them if they could make it there. From there, they walked West into the forests and rivers of Sokrú before even reaching the Black Mountains and Farysha.

About half of the group that left with them didn’t make the destination, killed by disease, weariness, or beasts of the Forests and Mountains. The few men that came with were sent to make sure the women and children arrived safely and were busy protesting loudly that they desired to return while our armed forces refused to let them leave the country.

Danyla’s father had stayed in Akyta, traveling to Wrybus to help push back the island-dwelling invaders.

I felt pity for them. They sought safety and ran into a cage with a one-way door. They’d know it soon enough.

After about a week and a half, Olyna received her discharge, and moved up to the ICU to be with her daughter. I’ll admit, it was nice having some company while I was covering for Kronda, though she said little unless we were asking her questions.

Danyla steadily spent more time awake each day, and a week after her mother came to stay in her room, she was moved to another section of the hospital where she wasn’t under constant supervision. Her mother and the nurses were thrilled at this move, showing how much she had healed and come through, even if it was slower than we would have wanted.

“I wish we could get approval for those Opids for Danyla,” Kronda was complaining one day while we sat in my office for a shared lunch break. It was a slow day, nothing the nurses couldn’t handle, and no one needed us to babysit.

I quickly chewed on my mouthful of sandwich and awkwardly swallowed. “The Morphids not strong enough?”

He shook his head. “Nah, never are for such as this. She’s pushin’ through it, dunno why, but she is.” His bright eyes darkened in concentration under his brow, watching a chip flip between his stubby fingers. “To be honest, doubt we’ll see them meds in before she is cleared to leave.”

I clenched my jaw in thought. It wasn’t fair that such a little girl had to suffer, but life wasn’t fair.

The silence must have gotten weird as Kronda spoke again. “Look, if yer that worried, go ‘n speak ta her. I’m sure she’d love ta meet the doctor that saved her life.”

The corner of my mouth rose, but I didn’t feel the smile in my heart. “Kronda, you’re the one who saved her.”

“Stan, don’t be such a downer.” He flicked the chip at me. I started, not expecting a flying piece of potato to be suddenly in my face and hit my forehead. “Ya know as well as I that she’d ‘ave died on the table without yer magic. I can think of at least three different ways you saved her life that day where us mere mortals would not ‘ave been able to handle anything like ya did, much less know how far the infections had gotten.” He waved his hands with a flair, emphasizing the word “mortals” with an added shimmy of his head.

“I’m not immortal. I just know how to use magic.” I shrugged. “There’s nothing special about it. Just means that if I try to leave Farysha, I’d probably be imprisoned instead of killed.”

He narrowed his eyes, picked up his sandwich, leaned across the table, and took as dramatic a bite as he could while staring me down. “Stop being down a downer,” he managed to say through a stuffed mouth.

I huffed at him, leaning back in my chair and looking aside as if to peer dramatically through a window that wasn’t there. “You’re a doctor too, though you can’t read and control auras. You try to leave, and you’d be in the same cart.”

He shrugged as he finished his bite and settled back into his chair. “Yea, but I got somethin’ ya don’t.”

I couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. I doubted that. “Oh, and what do you have? A stepstool?”

Kronda smiled and waved his hand. “That too, but I’m willin’ ta bet ya got one of those back at home.” The smile faded, but the warmth in his face remained. “Nah, Stan, I still ‘ave hope for the world.”

That struck a nerve I wasn’t expecting. A flash of anger that he’d dare say something like that to me swelled up in my chest, but I tamped it down before I made an unnecessary scene. Mentally, I floundered for a response, subconsciously holding my breath. I let it out a little too harshly as I stood, wrapping my leftovers up and leaning over to shove it unceremoniously into a drawer I had lined to act as a cooler.

“There’s no such thing as hope, Kronda. Just life, and it eats you up and spits you all no matter what you do.”

He grabbed my arm as I walked by, stopping me in my tracks. “Look, I don’t know what ya went through as a kid, but maybe just go talk ta her, if she’s up for it.”

“She’d be different than her mother?” I looked away, focusing on my office door. “The woman acted like I wasn’t there when I was on duty.”

“Stan,” Kronda said in that voice he used with unruly children, “the woman just lost everything she had and was worried that she was ‘bout ta lose her only daughter as well. You’d be just as tight-lipped if ya were in her spot.”

“Kronda,” I hissed back at him, “anywhere is better than this country. They will come to learn they made a mistake, that the death they evaded temporarily will still come for them as it comes for all of us.” I yanked my arm free from his surprisingly strong grasp, almost pulling him off the chair as I moved to leave.

He eyed me for a moment before looking away. “Sounds like ya know tragedy well. Don’t let the Guard hear ya speak of things as such, remember, else yer in line.”

Lightning shot through my heart, my hand frozen on the doorknob. I heard the Dwarf chuckle as he continued to speak. “That musta struck a…. Stan?” He trailed off, his voice growing worried and sincere.

Should I tell him? Tell him that I was the youngest son of the man who ordered those who spoke out against him executed. That my own father sent me away when I was five to a school not even in the same country, and that less than a year later, I was brought back for my own mother's funeral. That, while I did experience more freedoms than most, my own father wouldn’t look twice if I was rounded up to stand against a wall or just shot in the street.

I had no one and nothing, I was on my own, and no one would come to save me if I messed up.

“Stan, what’s wrong?” I heard Kronda say as if from a far distance. “I was out of line. My apologies.”

Blinking, I looked around as if brought out of a trance. “No, I… you’re fine.” My voice came out cracked and hoarse.

“If ya need ta tell me anything, ya know ya can,” he said, his voice still in the same gentle tone just above a whisper.

I watched him for a moment before slowly shaking my head. “No, you wouldn’t look at me the same if I did.”

Kronda started to speak, but I quickly left the room and let the door close behind me.

“Doctor, need something?” Frayda’s small voice chirped, her head poking above the desk, looking at me.

“I.. uhhh… No, anyone waiting for me?” I stammered out, trying to still my racing heart.

She looked around and was poking at her computer when I walked up. “No, do you desire to go home early?”

“No,” I said as I took a deep breath, “the next doctors aren’t in yet. I’m going to go for a walk. Page me if I’m needed.”

“Understood.” She smiled up, her skin tinting different colors as she beamed.

For a while, as I walked, I considered taking her up on her question, going home early to my barren apartment. Not that much waited for me there. I could go out somewhere nice, a restaurant or movie theater, watch a play or opera with the best seats. I wouldn’t even need a name drop for that. The only thing I spent money on was rent, food, and my computer system for my home office.

I didn’t want to go there to the plain humdrum of everyday life. To be honest, I didn’t want to do anything.

So, I walked alone, as I always had.

“Doctor Kadhäb?” a familiar voice asked, drawing me from my sulking.

Blinking, I looked for who had spoken. It was a middle-aged woman with pale skin, dark hair, and bright green eyes. Olyna Kuval, Danyla’s mother.

“Can I help you?” I asked. Try as I might, my voice still wasn’t coming out as normal, instead sounding strained and tired.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t be asking you that, Doctor?” Her brows were creased together in concern. “We haven’t seen you since Danny was in the ICU.”

“It’s been… busy,” I lied. Olyna didn’t seem to believe me.

“Too busy to check in on your patient?”

I ground my teeth and glared down at the short woman. “Your daughter is Kronda’s patient. I was merely assisting. If you interrupted my thoughts to try to chew me out, you might be in for more than you can handle.”

Olyna huffed, crossed her arms, and looked away. Tears started forming in her eyes, but she tried holding them in, holding herself together.

I closed my eyes and took a long, deep breath. My behavior was unprofessional, and I needed to keep myself in check.

“I’m sorry,” I finally whispered. “That was unnecessary of me. I will check in on your daughter in a moment.”

She didn’t respond right away, simply nodding instead. “She’s still in so much pain, Doctor. She won’t say it, but…”

“But sometimes you just know,” I finished the sentence.

Olyna looked around for a moment as if searching for something she couldn’t see but needed. “I’m going to run to the restrooms. Please check in on Danny when you have a moment.” She scurried off, shoulders hunched and hands on her upper arms, trying to appear even smaller than she was.

I watched her go, not feeling any better about myself as I stood in the suddenly very empty hallway. Finally, I glanced around, finding the door with Danyla’s name written on the whiteboard, and softly walked through it.

“Danyla?” My voice carried quietly through the room.

The only response was the soft beeps and sounds of computers. Gently I closed the door and walked into the short, wide hallway into the main room. While there was a door to the bathroom in that hall, the nurses were fairly strict about leaving it for the patient, forcing visitors to go halfway across the hospital for the public restrooms. My guess was because they simply didn’t want to clean it.

The room was painted in pinks and purples, probably by the same “artist” who did the clouds in the ICU children's room as mismatched “clouds” of a rainbow of colors swirled about the walls and ceiling. It was a dizzying array of ugly that was trying to be cute.

I did my best to ignore the attempt at a subtle cacophony of a design and walked to the bed in the middle of the wall to my left. Screens opposite me gave me her heart rate, blood pressure, and other necessary information before I could get close enough to read her aura. The numbers were a little high. In pain was right.

But what was causing it?

I left the blanket over the small girl as I stood over the bed. It didn’t matter if it was there or not. It was thin enough that it wouldn’t block her aura underneath if I reached through. All the same, I hovered my hand over her exposed shoulder and let our auras merge there.

Where her lower leg had been, her aura was flailing. What was left was still battling the Gangr and another infection I wasn’t familiar with. Threads of pain flared from the affected areas. This wasn’t ideal. Pain and stress from it could drag down the effectiveness of medication, but she was just a little girl, there should have been no reason for the medication to fail so strongly.

Suddenly worried, I stepped back and logged into the computer behind me, checking her medical records. While she was on the strongest pain medication we had on hand, and a prescription for Opids was tagged as “sent,” she had been taken off the Aymox and was given nothing for the new infection.

“Kronda, get to Miss Kuvals’ room, please,” I called softly into my pager.

“En route,” came the gruff response.

I hooked my pager back to my belt and returned beside Danyla, already extending my aura as far as I could to ease her pain and aid her against the ongoing infections.

She began to relax as soon as our auras made contact, her heart rate slowing down accordingly. I moved my hands over her leg, weaving her aura as if it were a painting. Of course, it wasn’t necessary to move physically, but I had time while I waited for Kronda and this was the most accurate and easy way to perform the magic.

As I worked, I heard a soft voice ask, “Who are you?”

Without pausing, I looked over at her frail face, partially obscured by a transparent mask with a hose attached. Her expression told me that this was arguably the first time she had been able to relax in a long while.

I forced a smile at her. “Doctor Kadhäb, I assisted Doctor Goldenbeard upon your arrival.” I took extra care to keep my voice low and calm.

“Is something wrong?” Her voice was barely audible.

“Nothing that won’t be remedied in a short order,” I said, looking back down at my hands.

Her aura shifted beneath me as she shook her head. “No, not with me. With you.”

Danyla winced as I lost my concentration completely for a heartbeat. She quickly relaxed again as I regained control and soothed the pain coming from her leg. “Why do you think something is wrong with me?”

“Your colors, it looks like they’re like a fading storm.”

I blinked at her. She could see auras. I hadn’t met another like us since I left the University. If knowledge of her gift spread, this girl could be in trouble, even if it was just the ability to see. I was beginning to suspect she had a gift. Those like us always have problems with medications if we’re not careful. Danyla just gave me the confirmation I needed, her pain was completely blocking the medication from entering her leg to help.

“What do you mean, like a fading storm?” My voice was beginning to crack again.

She thought a moment before speaking, her voice growing in strength. “There are colors swirling all over you, especially over your head and your heart.” She paused, clearly having problems putting words to what she could see. “Overall, though, they’re pale, almost like the sunflowers from home in a heavy rain, or that they were painted on a sun-bleached stone.”

I couldn’t look up at her. Here was a child, straight to the point as they were, cutting into my emotional turmoil. To make matters worse, she’d be able to see my aura more clearly than those around us, as I could command mine and others to perform acts of magic. It was dangerous for her to be around me, lest someone hear something they shouldn’t and report her to the Guard.

Yes, she would live her life alongside my father or Harry, my older brother, once he assumed the Overlord title, but she’d be a tool used to undermine enemies and torture others.

It was not a life I’d wish upon anyone. It was a life I barely escaped.

“Doctor…” She pulled me from my thoughts, though I still didn’t move my eyes from where my hands were intertwined with her aura. “Have hope, see the silver lining in life.”

Finally, I looked back. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she blinked weariness away.

“Too many have faded away,” she continued, staring at my aura in the space just around me. “You’re a good man. I can see it. Something is just blinding you to the good in the world.”

Her aura shifted as she fell back asleep, easier this time, thanks to my magic. I kept one hand over her leg as I turned to look at Kronda coming through the door. He wouldn’t have heard the exchange.

“Ok, I’m ‘ere. What is it?” he asked as he came over by me.

“Gangr and another infection are present. You need to sign off on getting her back on Aymox. It should take care of both infections.”

He crossed his arms and glared up at me. “Her blood tests came back clear.”

I shook my head. “Then bring it up with the lab. Her aura is telling me what’s there. She’s in an immense amount of pain because of it. I fear this secondary infection may be worse than the Gangr if it’s not treated now.”

“And her aura is tellin’ ya this?”

“Kronda, have I ever been wrong before?”

He raised a bushy blonde eyebrow.

“Fine, in regards to our patients’ care, have I ever been wrong?”

He set his jaw before shaking his head. “I’ll get the paperwork done fer it.”

“Thank you.” I took a deep breath and solidified the aura around her leg, keeping the remains of my magic in place. It wasn’t a permanent fix, but it would last her the rest of the day and hopefully the time I needed.

“Stan,” Kronda asked as he pulled a stepstool over to the computer, “thought ya weren’t gonna come ‘ere.”

I shrugged, leaning against the wall where the hallway entered the room and watching the sleeping Danyla. “Just ended up here on my walk.”

He eyed me as his fingers glided over the keys, way too nimble for a Dwarf. “Something else happen?”

It took me a moment to answer. “She told me a few things….” My voice trailed off. “I think I need to go make a few calls. I might take the rest of the day off.”

“At least stay on call in case we need yer butt.”

“Sounds like a deal,” I said, slowly turning and walking out of the room to make sure the main Emergency Room was ready for me to leave.

Frayda took my news in kind. It helped that the next doctor on shift was already walking through the door. We exchanged pleasantries, and I quickly strapped my briefcase to my bike and started walking it uphill to my apartment complex.

I’m not sure why I walked instead of riding, but I was running through what Danyla said over and over again in my head. No one was coming to help her. No one was coming to help the people who walked past me on the sidewalk. Sure we have doctors, firemen, and other emergency services, but they barely did their jobs for the most part.

No one was coming to help them, unless I did.

With my free hand, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the direct line to the Director of Medicine.

“Doctor Grizer,” the half-elf answered. I had met the man in person a handful of times, but I didn’t make it known that I had his personal information thanks to Harry.

“Grizer,” I replied in an overly happy tone, purposefully dropping his title, “Doctor Bubbles here.”

I heard him cough in surprise at me using my actual name. “Oh! Um, Doctor Bubbles! How can I assist you today?” he finally managed to blurt out.

“Hykur Memorial has a recent submission for a prescription of Opids. I’d like you to approve it. Now.” I allowed iron to seep into my voice. This man was an underling of my father and would be used to how the rest of my family acted. If I didn’t play the part, then Danyla would have less chance of surviving.

I didn’t want to stress her immune system with unneeded pain when she needed all the help she could get. On your average person, Aymox would work like a charm, but add in stressors... especially made stronger by one gifted with abilities, threatened to make the anti-bacterial useless. Her pain had to be dealt with, Danyla needed to be able to relax and calm her aura over her leg so the infection could be fought.

Grizer was quiet, though I could hear the sound of a keyboard thumping in the background. “Ah yes, for a young refugee girl, is that right? Her prescription should clear next month.”

“I’m sorry, I must have stuttered or spoken in another language. Grizer, I said approve it now.”

He snorted a laugh at me. “And who are you to make demands of me?”

“Besides the youngest son of our Overlord?” My snark levels were rising. “My father, as I am certain you are well aware, is not long for this world as per his health records. My brother, Harry, is next in line, and he actually likes me and values my medical opinion. So, I am certain that if I point out the age of the Director of Medicine and that he must be failing in his duties, Harry would be willing to replace you with someone he knows and trusts.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” The humor had completely left his voice.

“Who do you think Harry would trust more, Grizer? You who has put our hospitals in such a sorry state, or his brother whom he helped raise and would probably work for less than you make?”

He stewed in silence for a moment before I heard clicks against a mouse or keyboard. “Fine. Done. Now don’t call me again.”

“Are you really in a position to give orders to me?” I put all the venom, fueled by my frustrations today, I could manage into my voice. “I will call you whenever I see fit, and if you see anything from Hykur Memorial pop up on your feed, you take care of it before the day is over. Do you understand me, Grizer?” I put a heavy, hissing emphasis on his name, intentionally dropping his title. He never earned the title, but rather was granted it by my father as a way to shut up other politicians that complained about needing a doctor to fill his role. He knew this, and he knew I had worked hard to earn my title.

“Ye-yes of... of course, Lord Bubbles,” he stammered.

“Grizer, you missed a title.” I kept up the venom. I intended to make this man my pawn from here on out, and I would not have my hospital run like the others. Though those who worked there might not know it, I had suddenly chosen to step up and take responsibility for the entire complex back from within the shadows of my life.

“My apologies, Lord Doctor Bubbles.” He knew my ploy. He saw what my words and actions here meant.

I now had not just the Director of Medicine under my thumb but, through him, his entire department. In the past, I had never sought to use the power of my name, but this was a special case, and the people of Farysha deserved better than a bureaucrat who only had power and money on his mind.

With the simple action of flipping my cellphone closed, I hung up on the man. A couple walking just ahead of me were trying hard not to stare, instead quickly turning down the next street. I didn’t pay them much more heed than that. They’d have heard my side of the conversation and, despite realizing who I was, might not understand the scope of what had they heard.

Though they would, in the long run, benefit from this.

Without saying another word to anyone, I was let through the gates to my apartment complex. It was a series of buildings around a large courtyard. A pool was busy on one end of the large courtyard, and a man-made forest with paved biking trails running through the other.

I paused, normally opting to go straight up to my apartment, but instead, I went into the forest. I garnered a couple odd looks from others riding past me before I found a small bench, leaned my bike against the side, and sat down.

Birds were singing around me, and the world seemed a tad brighter than normal, though that might have been the sunlight coming through the trees. A particularly large bird squawked in protest as my phone started ringing.

Confused, I flipped it open to see Harry’s name before answering.

“Staaaan,” he started, dragging my name out, “why did a very disgruntled Doctor Gizer just call me?”

“Doctor Gizer? Don’t know the guy. I did just talk to a Grizer, but he’s not a real doctor.”

“I don’t really care what his name is, but did you really threaten the life of the Director of Medicine?”

I scoffed. “His job yeah, but not his life. I’m certain you can get the recording.”

There was a soft pause. “Oh really now?”

I shrugged, though Harry wouldn’t be able to see it. “The man isn’t an actual doctor, nor has he been doing his job even though all he has to do it hit approve buttons.”

“You really think that’s all he does?”

“Harry, I KNOW that’s all he does! I’d do his job better than him.”

“Stan, you know I can’t just let this slide. Father would be furious if this got to him.”

“Theeeen, dear big brother of mine and Heir Apparent of Farysha, tell off Grizer for not doing his job and tell him to report to me for quality purposes, and when you do inherit the country, just give me his job.”

“If you want a pay raise, just ask. You don’t need to go bullying the department heads.” There was a sort of exhaustion in his voice I wasn’t used to.

“Then they need to do their jobs, and I guess I gotta do mine.” I paused. “Is something wrong, Harry? You sound tired.”

He sighed heavily. “Just doing all of Father's work, as per usual. He just signs off on papers and hides in his office.”

“Guess we’re both taking on more work than we should be doing.” My voice was soft. “Don’t overdo it, Harry.”

“Of course I won’t. It’d be embarrassing if I ended up being treated by my baby brother. Anyway, I did my due diligence and checked in with you. Gonna call this lazy guy back or something.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “How professional-sounding of you.”

“Ain’t it?” There was a thud from his end as if he hit his forehead against the desk. “I gotta get used to these people while also earning their respect, so again, just don’t go overboard. Sound good?”

“Sounds good. I’ll just be on Grizer to do his job.”

“I’ll inform him that you’re now his superior and to check in with you from time to time. Father will sign off on it without even reading the page.”

“Hey, can you put down that any pay raise that includes will go to general hospital funds? Without telling anyone else why funds suddenly increased?”

“Sure, wh—are you still going by that fake name?”

“You know as well as I that if I went by Bubbles all the time, I’d be out of work.”

“Or maybe people would start to associate our name with good deeds.”

“Harry…” I trailed off. “Harry, let that be your legacy. That you were the Bubbles that Farysha needs and wants, not someone who takes any woman he fancies and destroys the country.”

“The first in a long line to be different and loved.” He sounded as if he was remembering a dream. “Sorry to cut this short, lil bro, but I gotta get back to Gizer. Call you again soon?”

“If I don’t answer, I’m working and will call back. There is something else I wanted to discuss with you too, when you have the time.”

“Sounds good. Stay safe and stop pissing off department heads. We can talk about it then.”

With that, Harry hung up. A smile found its way to my face, an honest smile. To be fair, I hadn’t felt that good in a long, long time. I’m not sure how long I sat on that bench, enjoying the sun and the sounds of nature, trying to muffle those of city life, but eventually, the light started to fade, and I made my way up to my apartment before curfew.

The next day Kronda was beyond surprised that Danyla’s Opids had already gotten approved and arrived. Word around the hospital was that all prescription applications that had been put in but not yet approved were waiting for everyone to arrive upon opening. Everyone who worked there, from the doctors down to the janitors, was amazed, and the following weeks saw a massive improvement in morale. The improvement was so great that many of the doctors that worked there on paper but never showed up started coming in for work on a more regular basis.

Over that time, Danyla continued to improve and finally beat the infections. Kronda and I got the lab to work on that newer infection, as it had no match in our logs. Since she was Krondas’ patient, he was allowed to name it; Manticore’s Sting was what he nicknamed it, though the actual bacteria name was long and boring.

Once my brother and I were done playing phone tag and were able to sit down and have that conversation, he agreed to send Danyla and her mother to the Archipelago, without cost to them and without the Guard chasing them down. I promised I’d cover her schooling, and he didn’t ask why I was so interested in the girl. Actually, he sounded sad at my desires, remarking on how I’d be a great father would it be allowed.

Maybe I did choose to help her out of the selfishness of wanting a child of my own.

Or maybe it was just because she gave me something I had long since lost, arguably since before I returned home from the University.

Hope.

It is something so many take for granted that they don’t realize how easily it can be taken away. And at the same time, how important it is to fight for.

Stan Bubbles will be back in his own novel, Stan Bubbles, Evil Overlord M.D., coming soon!

About the Author

Kim Adkins

Kim Adkins(1993-) is an easygoing author and artist in SE WI. A misplaced farmgirl and busybody you can often find her talking about her various worlds, works, and pets at craft fairs, larps, and historical re-enactment events. You can follow her both on Amazon Central and on Facebook.

Trust Your Instincts

By Lauren Hanson

Chapter One

As a parent, you would do pretty much anything to help your children feel better.  Although, you might wait a couple of days before taking them to see a doctor in fear of getting the embarrassing "it's just a virus" diagnosis.  I am writing this article to reinforce that parents should follow their gut instincts when it comes to their children's health, even if it means embarrassment.

On March 3rd, I was worried about my youngest child.  He had been throwing up for a week. He'd eat, had no fevers, but seemed gaggy and would throw up after napping. Based on that information and his temperament, I could tell it wasn't a stomach virus. After having it for a few days, I was worried about dehydration. So off I took him on the third to our local Urgent Care, where I was informed that Junior was only constipated and should take some pediatric laxatives.  On the 6th, Junior was scheduled for his 18-month checkup (a month late due to scheduling difficulties).  I told this secondary pediatrician (primary was overbooked) about his symptoms, medicine, and how he still wasn't any better.  The two of us deduced that it could've been acid reflux due to the gagging after laying flat and Junior received some reflux and nausea meds.

By the weekend, Junior was so off-balance that he gave up on walking and then even crawling.  He was also tired, cuddly, whiny, and was having some spacing out episodes, which were all out of character.  My mom-gut was still telling me something more was going on, so I went against a few family members and took him to the doctor's for the third time, second time to Urgent Care.  I had my niece ride with me in case he started throwing up or anything on the ride.  It was a good thing, too, because he did have an episode, and while taking a quick glance in the mirror, I saw his eyes space out, flicker, and roll - seizure.  He came out of it with a whine, and I kept on going.

When I arrived at the Emergency Room (they labeled us for the ER instead of Urgent), Junior was so lethargic he let the doctor do anything he wanted to without whining or moving.  This concerned the doctor the most, and he started him on IV treatment.  The only blood work that came back with anything said that he was very dehydrated, so we had to stay overnight.  This was a Sunday night, and Junior still wasn't back to his normal self by Wednesday. Thus, they scheduled him for an MRI of his head and spine.  Almost right away, we were called into the consult office while Junior was still in the scanner.  His doctor had brought another doctor, a nurse, and a counselor into the room where me, my husband, and my mom were.  They brought up his MRI scans on a computer.  Slowly a big open area in his head appeared. This we were told was a large build-up of brain fluid, but that wasn't the main cause of Junior's illness.  Farther into the head we went, until a mass appeared sitting between the brainstem and the cerebellum, squishing them.

We heard the dreaded word: TUMOR.

Next thing we knew, I was grabbing my coat and phone and being rushed to meet up with my son to go to the American Family Children's Hospital in Madison, WI.  When we got there, Junior's vitals were still steady, so they didn't need to rush him into surgery.  Instead, he went in the next day at noon to get a fluid drain and pressure monitor put in, then his tumor was removed.  He got out of surgery by ten that night.  At two in the morning, they took him in for a follow-up MRI, which showed the doctor had miraculously gotten the whole tumor removed!  Yes, we were in the all-clear, right? Nope, still had to wait for the tumor lab results...

Another dreaded term: Cancerous (grade three, aggressive). Specifically an ependymoma.

During our two-week stay in Madison, my son was also going through physical and occupational therapies to get him moving again, improve his motor skills, and correct his eye movements. While going through this, our son still did not want to eat much and seemed to gag or cough after certain foods.  They did a swallow study and found that his swallowing was not going so well. This caused him to be put on a soft mechanical diet and need a GI tube for night feedings.  They were able to take out his fluid drains and pressure monitor in the same time frame as putting in the GI tube.  Then before we could leave Madison and start radiation in La Crosse, they had to install a Hickman catheter and show us how to take care of that, his meds, and his feedings.  Currently, we are on week two of 6.5 weeks of radiation.

The point of this article?  It's a reminder to trust yourself if you think something is wrong.  It is also to bring awareness to brain tumors and brain cancer as they are often misdiagnosed several times before finding them, especially in children too young to tell you what is all wrong.

According to KidsHealth.com some common signs are:

- vomiting
- seizures
- weakness of the face, trunk, arms, or legs
- slurred speech
- difficulty standing or walking
- poor coordination
- headache

- in babies and young toddlers, a rapidly enlarging head

Now, looking back, we can figure Junior had this tumor before he was even a year old.  He started walking at a year, but was never steady. He wouldn't say too many words, couldn't use feeding utensils, had a hard time adjusting to sippies, and seemed to rub his face and head often.  Those were signs, but we only thought he had a slight delay, an inner ear balance issue, or was just ready for a nap.  As a parent, you feel guilty now having to look back at the missed signs, thinking of how your child must have suffered. Even if you didn't know and it wasn't your fault, there is still guilt.  At least we discovered the tumor before it was too late, which according to a doctor in Madison, we got close...

I do want to give a huge shout-out to Gundersen Lutheran La Crosse for finding the tumor, American Family Children's Hospital for their wonderful staff, Children's Miracle Network for the gas card, and the Ronald McDonald House for helping us with lodging while staying in Madison.  You never really understand the importance of donating to these causes until you yourself need to use them.  Also, a big thank you goes to our wonderful friends and family for their support as well.  We are not at the end of this long journey yet, but we will get there.

**Did you know that a huge part of keeping the Ronald McDonald House going is not just money but pop tabs?  If you already drink anything out of a can, please save the tops and donate them to your local RMH! You never know if your family could be affected and need them...

Battle of a Lifetime

By Lore Nicole

Chapter One

Since I was a small child, I did not feel like all of the older children. My joints felt stiff, muscles tight, and not really any energy. I slept as I should but woke up stiff and tired. My friends would crack their knuckles, neck, backs, and so on but I couldn’t get anything to crack, creak, or shift for any relief.

I tried stretching my calf muscles on a “rocker boat” type thing on a doctor’s recommendation. Stretched morning and night but still woke the next day and felt as thought nothing had stayed stretched out. Doctor’s recommendation after that? “Don’t run too hard or you can snap your Achilles tendon. It’s take it easy or have surgery to see if that would work.” Surgery wasn’t a guarantee so I opted for just sticking it out as is.

When I turned twelve things seemed to start getting worse. My stomach was more sensitive. I got aches in my lower stomach. Then, six months after my birthday my menstrual cycle started. I thought I was going to die. Luckily, it was during Christmas break so I didn’t freak out at school or get embarrassed. My mom didn’t seem at all concerned either so I thought the heavy flow, headaches, nausea, extreme cramps, and difficulty using the bathroom was normal. I would take ibuprofen and menstrual relief pills that were marketed to teens; even added extra “padding” to my pad by rolling up toilet paper.

As I got older, I would miss school days during my cycle. Especially the second day as that was always the hardest for me. With age, the symptoms also worsened to where I was getting the cramps, headaches, nausea, and stomach problems throughout the month. It was a gradual change and as with most of my life I “just dealt with it”. Having narcissistic and alcoholic parents almost every day was just trying to get through it on my own.

In high school, my friends would tell me that they were on birth control and that some even helped them skip their cycles. This seemed like a dream to me so when I was seventeen I went with friends to a clinic that didn’t need parental permission and got my first birth control pills. I felt more nauseous taking them and they certainly didn’t stop my cycle but I kept taking them anyway with hopes that things would change.

Around that same time I had my first boyfriend. Nothing happened until after I was eighteen, we were each others’ “firsts”. It HURT. Once again, I thought that pain during intercourse was normal because it is what I knew. Tampons? Pain. Child molestation at eight? Pain. The more intercourse I had, I adjusted to the pain and my mind started to see pain as pleasure.

By this time, I had quit taking pills after trying three different types that all caused bad side effects and we would only use condoms. We had a few incidents where the condom broke but I never ended up pregnant. Just before our wedding when I was almost 21, we were trying to conceive. There were three times where I had positive tests but after seeing the doctor was told that there were no heartbeats. I felt even more broken than I already was from chronic pain and chronic fatigue. My mental health took even more of a hit.

We got married in April, two days after my third loss. I was happy and excited to be married to my best friend. However, there was that worry in the back of my mind that I was broken and wouldn’t be able to give him that family we had hoped for. It took six months for me to get the courage to see a doctor about it.

After discussions and several tests (including my husband’s testing), it was concluded that I had extremely low progesterone and most likely endometriosis and adenomyosis. My husband? He just needed to take a multivitamin and lay off the soda and energy drinks. Me? Ovulation testing to track my actual cycle. Clomid to increase my progesterone to ovulate which caused extreme nausea. Internal ultrasounds to check my ovulation and if I had conceived.

I did two rounds of Clomid. After the first one, all the tests read negative so we figured do another round. Turns out that I actually conceived on the first round but my hcg levels were just slow to grow. My progesterone was also slow to grow and that wasn’t good. “Low progesterone,” my doctor told me, “is probably the number one cause of miscarriages.” Testing my blood every other day showed that my progesterone needed help so I started using a compounded hormone cream on my arms twice a day to raise up my levels.

Luckily that cream worked and I was able to have my baby girl. Her birth is for a whole different story so I won’t go into that. Instead I will say that after her, I was able to conceive another girl and then a boy on my own. My progesterone was still too low so I did use the cream again for my second pregnancy. For my third, my levels were even slower to grow so I had to use progesterone suppositories instead.

I will say that all three pregnancies were not picture perfect and I had extreme nausea the entire time. In between babies one and two, I had been diagnosed with fibromyalgia. Each pregnancy caused the fibromyalgia to worsen, influencing the nausea, and each was born by cesarian which also added scarred tissue inside my abdomen.

Chapter Two

It took having my third child, and the epidural failing during the c-section, for me to want a hysterectomy. It also took having said third child almost die from brain tumor cancer at twenty months old for me to take my own health more serious. I learned, thanks to a wonderful endo research group on Facebook called Nancy’s Nook, that the only way to really treat any endo was to have it excised during laparoscopic surgery. Since I already had four surgeries under my belt (cesareans and gall bladder), I wanted to try and avoid possible future surgeries as much as I could.

I learned that regular gynecology doctors can only perform surgery on the reproductive organs so that if I would have endo on other areas such as my bowels or diaphragm then I would have to have a separate surgery done by an endometriosis specialist. Rather than have two separate procedures, I opted for searching around for the specialist first since they could do both in one. The surgeon that I wanted off the Nook list of vetted doctors could have done it but my insurance wasn’t going to help cover any of the bill.

My primary care doctor sent a referral to the our state’s university hospital system to see who they had on staff. Luckily for me, an endo specialist that was trained in excision had just transferred from another state. Even though she wasn’t on the Nook list, I felt that this was meant to be. This was winter of 2019. Then covid hit and canceled all “elective” surgeries, including mine. During this time I had tried several meds that put me into an almost “menopausal state”. I had to continue those until I could finally have my surgery.

I was finally going to have surgery in the Summer of 2021. But then I got yet another phone call. My specialist needed to take personal time off and wouldn’t be back until late fall or early winter. I had the options of trying to see yet another surgeon elsewhere but was given gyno references and as I mention before I refused to go that route. Plus, redoing all the meetings before having the surgery would take time along with the insurance approval. I figured that by the time I would have surgery with someone else, my chosen surgeon would probably be back anyhow. So, I waited. Again.

Chapter Three

Finally that fall I got the call to set up my surgery appointments. My surgery was set for Valentine’s Day of 2022. Very romantic, right? It was three hours one way to get there and I needed to have a covid test done the day before so my kids went to their grandparents for a sleepover while my husband and I went to Madison. We celebrated Valentine’s a day early with a nice dinner and stayed the night in a hotel. I was nervous the entire time that for some reason my surgery would get canceled again.

I shouldn’t have worried because I got to the hospital the next day, checked in at ten in the morning, and was sedated and wheeled away by noon. By three, the doctor informed my husband that they had just gotten the robotic arms in place. I was a difficult case because my abdomen was filled with sticky scarred tissue. They had to cut through it all to place their tools properly. She informed him that it would be late before I would probably be ready to leave. She gave him my prescriptions to pick up downstairs in the meantime and he called the hotel to say we would need another night. Yes, we had planned on driving straight home afterwards.

The doctor finished around six o’ clock but I didn’t come out of anesthesia until eight and had to be able to use the bathroom and pass gas before I could leave. Using the bathroom burned and ached but I assumed it was from the catheter. The doctor had already left by then so I could only ask the nurse some questions but she didn’t have much information. When I was awake enough, she went and got my husband who had talked to the doctor a bit.

According to him, the specialist said I was a mess (which I already knew). My organs were all stuck together by sticky tissue and she did what she calls a “full clean out”. My appendix had some endo on it so she removed it as a preventative measure. She also carefully removed my bladder from where it was stuck to my uterus so that she could remove the uterus, cervix, and my tubes which were covered in endo as well. Since I am under forty and they were considered healthy enough, I had to keep my ovaries. With them still remaining, I can still get ovulation symptoms and pain flares so I am still on medication to keep their activity low.

I am currently two months post surgery. Recovery was not easy. The shoulder gas pain, incision pain, nausea, and the feeling of hopelessness. That painful bathroom issue? When a nurse called to follow up, she read my reports. Apparently, they remove the uterus via the vaginal opening and during my removal I developed a few vaginal tears. That definitely explained that pain. I have five scars going across my stomach like an Orion’s Belt with the on on my left side being the biggest, where my appendix and scarred tissue was removed through.

Now, I am fully glad that I went through with it. No painful periods, no cramping, my stomach issues are a little better, and I have noticed that I am not as tired. With having chronic fatigue that last one is a huge difference even though it doesn’t seem like much. My fibromyalgia is also still a problem but at least I was able to get rid of one medical issue.

As for the pain I get upon penetration? I have been too scared to find out if that remains. If it’s there, dang because it HURTS. If it’s gone, will my mind consider the act pleasurable without it? I will eventually find out but for now… I’m still considering myself healing, although that may be more mental than physical.

While there is no cure for endometriosis, the hysterectomy did remove the adenomyosis and, if I do develop any similar issues again, I am fully prepared to have another excision surgery. Hopefully, I won’t but it does happen…

Chapter Four

What did I hope to accomplish with this piece? To bring awareness to a disease that not many women understand and whose gynecologists may be ill informed. If you, or someone you know, might have endometriosis, please seek out a specialist. Preferably a surgeon off the Nook list (there’s also a website), if possible, since they are vetted and usually up to date on current endometriosis education.

There are still doctors out there that believe pregnancy can magically make endo disappear. Some believe birth control can stop and reverse endometriosis. There are even ones out there that believe the cure is a hysterectomy. A few only do ablation and not excision. What’s the difference? Think of endo as being like a carrot. Ablation only burns off the part that grows “above ground” while excision removes the roots. If a doctor uses ablation, the roots still remain. The pain still remains. It will grow and spread.

The doctors that say birth control or other prescriptions can cure it? They don’t and often times there are side effects like hair loss, insomnia, and night sweats. I am familiar with those as a gyn had me try a couple meds “for endo”. Those doctors try to say that endo feeds off of estrogen so, with the meds stopping the production of it, they will stop the growth. What some don’t acknowledge is the research where endo makes its own estrogen to feed on. Those pills only end up masking the symptoms of endo and when a person comes off of them they are hit with the pain from before, or worse.

With this knowledge, I hope anyone going to see a doctor knows what to ask and look for before going through with any meds or procedures they may regret. If the doctor says pregnancy is a cure? Find someone else. Birth control is a cure? Find another doctor. Ablation is what they offer? Move on. Hysterectomy is a cure for endo? Unless you actually want a hysterectomy, get a second opinion on if one would actually benefit you or not.

About the Author

Lauren Hanson & Lore Nicole

Lore Nicole is the pen name of Lauren Hanson. She lives on a family dairy farm with her husband and three children in Wisconsin. Books were always her escape in childhood and she hopes to provide that escape for others through her writing besides spreading awareness. She is an advocate for endometriosis, fibromyalgia, and childhood brain tumor awareness. She addresses these issues in her writing. As Lore Nicole she normally writes YA Fantasy and adult paranormal romance. This is to separate the more adult topics from the children’s books she writes as Lauren Hanson.

Want to follow for more stories? Moon Contract releases in June, Timmy Turtle #2 coming this summer, and Maribelle #2 out this October.

***Sign up for the newsletter and get a free PNR short story.

Find her newsletter, social media, and other links at: https://linktr.ee/authorlorenicole

Deep Roots

By Kate Seger

Chapter One

People in this city have deep roots. Generations winding down into the earth. History keeps them tethered here, fastening them to this land like a length of chain, binding them to their collective past. That is why we have remained through the shelling and bombardment, despite the famine and violence that plague us. But now the soil has been tainted, watered with the blood of our people, buried beneath the ashes of war for so long that nothing grows here. Not flowers, not trees, and not us. To linger is to wither and die.

We are finally ready to concede defeat, to tear ourselves away and take root somewhere else, but I fear it is too late.

I huddle with Erienne in the darkness. The silence should come as a relief, following the deafening roar of the shelling, but instead, it is full of tension; in the eye of the storm, our nerves are electrified as we wait for the next lightning strike – no, not lightning. Lightning is the hand of God, mother nature's fury. This is a horror wrought by men, by mankind's irrational rage at that which is different from them.

I rub my temples to ease the throbbing in my skull brought on by dehydration and squeeze my eyes closed. The rhythmic dripping of water through a crack in the concrete ceiling is like the drums of war. A slow, steady pounding, out of sync with my erratic heartbeats, setting my nerves on edge, making me grind my teeth in anxiety.

"Mama?" Erienne looks up at me. Her face is gaunt, with deep hollows beneath her once plump cheeks and dark bruises of sleeplessness pressed in sunken half-moons beneath her blue eyes.

I hold a finger to my lips to shush her. She has a million questions, but she is only four. How do you explain the death and destruction that is war to a child who knows nothing of the cruelty of this world?

"I want Dada," she whimpers, then brings her thumb to her mouth to suck on, a habit I once tried desperately to break. Now… anything that gives her comfort is tolerated without complaint.

A weight settles in my chest, the pressure of sorrow squeezing my heart like a vice grip. It has been seven weeks since I've heard from my husband, Christof. Is he dead? Captured? Being tortured as we speak? I have no way of knowing. I tell myself he's fine. He's off fighting for our freedom, beating back the enemy, reclaiming what is ours in a blaze of glory. But I only half believe it.

"We'll see Dada soon," I lie. I cannot know when, or if, we will ever see him again. Tears threaten to spill. I don’t want her to see me crying, so I bend down to wrap her in my arms, trying to squeeze reassurance into her and shield her from my fears. Her body feels like a bundle of sticks wrapped in the skin of a child. Too thin, too fragile.

I swallow a sob and say, “Everything will be all right. We are safe and together, and Dada will find us. We just need to stay quiet for a little longer."

Erienne's lips turn down in a petulant frown that makes me wince. Please, don't cry. No tantrums, not now, I silently will her.

But she is too weary for a full-fledged meltdown and only whimpers. "Momma, I'm hungry."

My own stomach grinds as if in response to her words, emitting a long, low growl. I reach into the backpack, which contains all that is left of our lives. Most of our possessions are gone. Our memories - places we've been, people we've known – have been erased from existence. A whole world lost but not forgotten. A past that we cannot return to haunts my dreams, imperfect slivers spliced together out of context. Christof's fingers in my hair, the way the faint lines around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Laughter in an open-air cafe. Sunlight streaming through clouds to pool over a bright blue stretch of ocean. Wine glasses clinking in cheer. High heels clicking on pavement. A million fragments of ordinary life fusing together to form the gone world every night when I drift off to restless sleep.

I shake off the tendrils of reminiscence and pull a dwindling sleeve of crackers from the bag, handing them to Erienne. She folds them in her small hands and huffs, "No more of these."

"They're all we have, honey."

Shaking her head angrily, knotted hair swirling around her pale face, she crushes the cracker in her left hand. Watching the crumbs slip through her fingers and fall to the floor is like watching something precious evaporate. I want to scream at her, rail at her, and ask her if she knows what she's done, what she's so carelessly wasted.

Of course, she doesn't. She is four and has been subsisting on a diet of stale crackers and tepid, bottled water for three days. And both are nearly gone.

We'll leave tonight, I tell myself. We'll go now under cover of darkness and make for the bridge. If we can make it to the bridge, we can make it out of the city.

"Do not do that again," I admonish, keeping my voice even. "Eat them. You need your strength."

She doesn't eat them. She crumbles them in her other hand and pounds on my chest with her little fists, red-faced with a fury she is too tired to vocalize.

I sigh, shift her from my lap to the grime-covered pavement, then stretch and get to my feet. I glance at my watch, still working but painful to look at. A gift from Christof, long years ago when we'd only just met, and the future still seemed so bright for us.

Six o'clock. Dusk will be coming soon. Darkness doesn't stop the bombs, but by daylight, we are easier targets. The shadows have become friends in these lonely times, things to which I cling.

"Erienne," I squat down next to her. "We are going to go for a walk. I need you to be brave and stay close to me. Whatever you see or hear, don't run. Don't let go of my hand, no matter what. Do you understand?"

She nods but protests, "Danger outside," in a voice so grave it would be laughable, coming from the mouth of a babe in different circumstances.

I nod back to her. "Yes. That's why you must be brave and do as I say. Okay?"

"Okay, Momma." She holds her hand out towards me to prove she means it.

I pick up the backpack, slip it over my shoulders, then take her outstretched hand.

Together we climb the dingy steps that lead out of the shelter to a city in ruins. Husks of buildings, blackened and split open, yawn out at us, their contents spilling onto the streets below. Piles of rubble mark the places where familiar landmarks once stood. The air curdles in my lungs, and I cover my face to block out the acrid stink of metal, dust, and burnt flesh.

"Smells bad!" Erienne cries out, face crinkling in disgust.

I don't even want to imagine what my daughter is breathing into her lungs. But we have no choice. We leave, or we die. We cannot stay below ground, living like rats, forever.

"I know, honey. Pull your shirt up over your face like this." I demonstrate, covering my nose with the ratty sleeves of my filthy sweater. It isn't much of an improvement. With a sigh, I add," You'll get used to it."

What a horrible thing to tell your child. You'll get used to destruction. It will become familiar to you.

"Are you ready to go? You have to stay quiet and stay close," I remind her.

"I'm ready," she answers, words muffled by fabric, but I can see the fear reflecting in her eyes.

I bend down and kiss her forehead. "Good. You're my brave girl."

We head west or as close to west as we can, clinging to the remnants of buildings for cover. We've only been walking for ten minutes when the first siren sounds, a desperate shriek shattering the stillness of the night. Erienne's hands fly to her ears, and she stops in her tracks, frozen in terror. I yank on her arm harder than I should, dragging her behind me as I hurl myself into the doorway of a nearby building that is barely still standing.

Moments later, the sound I dread, which will haunt me for the rest of my days, follows. Like the sound of a shotgun, magnified, droning into a long, low roar. They're shelling again, but not nearby – somewhere on the other side of the city or on the eastern outskirts.

I let out a ragged sigh and smile at Erienne. "It's okay. The scary people are far away. Let's keep going."

She doesn't answer me. Her mouth is slightly agape, her eyes glassy and unfocused. I get down low again, placing my hands on her bony shoulders, tracing my finger along her dirt-smudged cheek.

"Hey, I will keep you safe. No matter what. Do you trust me?"

Her lip trembles, but she nods, eyes clearing. I take her hand in mine again. Dipping my head out, I look around. The only thing moving is a leaf of newsprint, rolling like a tumbleweed through the debris-strewn street.

“Okay then, let’s go.”

Chapter Two

It takes us nearly two hours to reach the outskirts of the city. The silence is punctuated by bursts of gunfire - distant, not an immediate threat, but nerve-wracking all the same. When we pass bodies, I tell Erienne to hide her eyes. At first, she thinks it's a game and giggles as she brings her hands to her face. She thinks it's fun - a morbid variation of peekaboo, until she peeks, despite my warning not to.

Her tiny fingers splay apart and pull away from her eyes. I hiss a warning. "Erienne, no!" but it's too late. A gasp escapes her lips as her gaze finds the charred remains of a boy, only a few years older than herself. And as much as it pains me to do so, I clamp a hand over her mouth, silencing her before her small whimper can become a scream.

Her eyes are owl-wide and blind with terror. She is frozen, unwilling - no, unable - to move, faced with an atrocity no child should ever witness. A pang of guilt shoots through me. This is my fault. If I had only left sooner, when my family fled, when my husband begged me to… But I can't go back in time. What's done is done. And we cannot remain here, two living ghosts of the gone world, standing in ruins, just waiting to join the dead.

"Erienne, we have to keep moving."

She shakes her head fiercely, her feet planted firmly in place, wetness pooling in her eyes, sliding down her grime-streaked cheeks. I pull her into an embrace, and she buries her face in my chest, tears soaking the tatters of my tee-shirt. I let her cling to me for a moment until I hear the *pop* of a gunshot. Close - too close.

I pry Erienne off me and put my hands on her shoulders, spinning her around. "Cover your eyes again. We have to go. Or we'll end up like that boy." I hate using fear as a tactic. I know she's too young to understand any of this. But we need to make it to the bridge.

She wrenches out of my grasp and crumples to the ground, curling herself into a tight ball, body shaking with silent sobs. Somewhere in the distance, I hear voices. Men shouting. Friend or foe? No way of knowing, and besides, at this point, even those fighting for our side can be a danger to a lone woman and a child. War does strange things to men. The bloodlust seeps into their veins, turning their hearts dark. It has been a long time since most of them have had a woman.

I have no choice but to carry her. Emaciated as she is, her weight is still almost more than I can bear in my weakened state. As I hoist her trembling body into my arms, I stagger back, lightheadedness threatening to bring us both down. But I have to do this. I wait for the wave of dizziness to pass, then stagger on, her small body a precious burden I have no choice but to bear weighing me down.

It is slow going. We barely make it half the distance I had hoped before the sun begins its inevitable rise, scarlet as the blood of my people through the haze of dust and smoke tainting the sky. We've made it out of the city center. The burned-out high-rises are behind us, silhouettes like broken teeth in the predawn light. Around us, they've been replaced by what were once duplexes and raised ranch homes. Once a quiet, peaceful suburb with manicured lawns, it has now been reduced to mostly rubble.

My back aches from the weight of Erienne, still in my arms, sleeping now. Her blonde hair covers her pale face, and her chest rises and falls gently. I shudder, a chill running through me as I realize how exposed we are here, the danger we're in. I had hoped the city's outskirts might have been spared the brunt of the fighting, but I see now that is not the case.

Daybreak is coming, and we will become easy targets when it arrives, waiting to be picked off.

My eyes dart around the leveled street, looking for somewhere to hole up until nightfall. I see one building, a school, by the looks of it, that appears to be mostly intact. With slow, trudging steps, I carry my daughter toward it.

The comfort of the shadows embraces me as I reach the doorway, then slump against it to catch my breath. Erienne stirs and murmurs in her sleep. I shift positions, raising her to rest against my hip, cradled in one arm. With my free hand, I push against the door. The hinges scream, and I flinch back, but only silence follows.

"Mama?" Erienne whispers, awakening at the sound.

"Shhh," I soothe, then take a tentative step forward and slide through the gap into the darkened building.

The windows have been boarded up, and inside, it is black as night. I squint, trying to get my bearings. Then my heart leaps into my throat as I hear a familiar sound. The soft *click* of the gun's bolt seems magnified one hundredfold as it rings out in the silence, sounding louder and more menacing than any explosion.

I freeze like cornered prey, a rabbit with nowhere to run. My eyes, unadjusted to the darkness, dart every which way, seeking the source of the menacing sound. "Please, don't shoot. I'm unarmed. A woman. With a child."

"What are you doing here?" a male voice speaks from the darkness, my language, not the enemy’s, which is a small relief. But still…

"Looking for shelter until nightfall. We are trying to make it to the border."

"Mama?" Erienne murmurs again.

"Shh, baby," I soothe, squeezing her tighter, ready to run with her, though I do not know if I even have the strength to flee.

The thin, wavering beam of a flashlight cuts through the darkness. "I'm with the resistance. Our group leaves for the border at nightfall. You can join us."

In the faint glow, I can make out the speaker's features. He's barely more than a boy himself – a scruffy teenager in a piecemeal, mismatched uniform. He tilts his head towards the open doorway he stands in, beckoning for us to follow.

Perhaps I shouldn't trust him, but I see no alternative given our situation. Traveling by daylight is a death sentence. So, with tentative steps, I follow him through the doorway, the beam of his flashlight illuminating a long narrow hallway lined with lockers.

After a few moments, he stops and turns, pointing the light into a large room lined with tables that must have once served as the cafeteria. Inside, candles burn, effusing dim light into the room. A handful of people are gathered at a long, narrow table. All women and children like Erienne and I. They look up almost as one, eyes all blank, expressions grim.

"Go on in. Eat." The man points to a large pot sitting on a small camping stove in the middle of the room.

I glance from the pot to him uncertainly. He only nods, then turns on his heel and walks away, presumably to guard the entrance once more.

"Mama, it smells good," Erienne whispers, and I realize she's right.

The savory aroma fills the room as we step inside. It smells like beef stew, though I can't imagine where they would have found beef, which makes the contents of the pot a bit suspect. Still, it has been so long since we've had any hot food, and beggars can't be choosers.

I set Erienne down on her feet, and we approach the pot together. Plastic bowls and spoons are placed beside it on the table. I take one for each of us and peer into the pot. Vegetables and stringy chunks of meat swim in a watery broth. Still, it beats stale crackers, and my stomach gurgles with desire as I spoon out the concoction, careful not to be greedy and take more than our share.

We take a seat at an empty table, Erienne on my lap. There are about a dozen other women and children present, but everyone sits alone. There is none of the chatter you would expect. Fear stills all of our tongues. We are as safe as we can hope to be here but still in danger. Always in danger. And always careful to be quiet and avoid drawing attention to ourselves. The only sound is the scrape of spoons against bowls and soft chewing, slurping as Erienne licks the last dredges from her bowl.

"Erienne, I'm going to rest for a little while. You should do the same."

She climbs off my lap and curls up on the chair beside me. I remain awake, watching her until I see the tell-tale slow rise and fall of her chest that tells me she has drifted off. Then I rest my hands on the table and lay my head down on them, waiting for the restless sleep full of nightmares to come.

Chapter Three

"Time to move." The gruff voice pulls me from my slumber. My eyes fly open, and I look around. For a moment, I'm not sure where I am. My hazy, sleep-clouded brain struggles to comprehend its surroundings as I take in the scene. Women yawning and stretching with the same confused, sleep-addled expressions my own face must bear.

The school. The cafeteria. We're safe, for the moment.

"Gather your belongings." The man standing in the doorway is the same teenage boy who led us in, his rifle slung over his shoulder.

We, all of the women in this place, have very few belongings to gather. A bag or two each. I shoulder my backpack, then rouse Erienne, who yawns and smiles up at me. "

We have breakfast?" she asks.

I shake my head no. The soldier taps his foot impatiently, nervously fingering his gun, making it clear he wants to leave as soon as possible. Erienne looks sullen about this, but she doesn't protest. Dutifully she takes my hand, and we join the other women clustered in the doorway.

"Let's move out."

The boy soldier leads the way. When we reach the building entrance, he holds up a hand, indicating we should wait. He steps outside and moves his head from side to side, scanning the area around us, then turns back and gives us a nod and a wave.

A sliver moon hangs in the sky like a scythe, shedding little light – both a blessing and a curse. It will keep us hidden, but we will have to be careful not to trip and injure ourselves on the debris strewn through the streets. The familiar hiss and crash of bombs bursting fills the air, closer than the shellings yesterday, and I grind my teeth with anxiety as the soldier stomps on ahead of us, urging us forward with occasional hand gestures.

We have been walking for about two hours when the crack of an explosion and a scream cut the air. I duck low, dragging Erienne down with me, then turn my head to see one of the other women lying on the ground. Her leg is a mess of viscera, shrapnel studding her skin, and my stomach churns, threatening to expel its meager contents.

"Don't turn around," I whisper to Erienne. She squeezes my hand so hard her fingernails draw blood.

"Land mine," grumbles the soldier. "There's nothing we can do for her."

"We can't just leave her!" someone behind me protests.

"She's dead meat." His words are callous, but his voice is full of sorrow. I realize he's right. Her eyes are already glassy, lifeless. If she isn't dead yet, she will be soon enough.

The woman who spoke must come to the same realization the soldier and I have, for she protests no more.

"Let's get a move on,: the young soldier orders.

When we resume our march, each step is fraught with fear, for we know each step could be our last. Still, we walk.

We find no more mines. Praise the Lord for that. But when we finally reach the bridge, weary and with shot nerves, we find it has been blown out. Dawn is just breaking on the horizon, and the twisted steel bars and cables hanging uselessly above the slow-moving river glint in the light.

The soldier growls out a curse and then turns to look at us. "This was the only crossing left. We'll have to get a bit wet."

I grimace as I stare at the muddy waters. At least it is autumn, not spring, when the runoff from the snowmelt sets the waters to rage and churn. Still, though I can swim, Erienne cannot. If it is too deep at its center…

As if reading my thoughts, the soldier says, "I'll go first and test the depth."

He wades out while we huddle on the riverbank, watching with our hearts in our throats. When he reaches the center, the water has only reached his armpits. He turns back to us with a bright smile that reveals a glimpse of the boy he must've been before this war turned him into a soldier. "Looks like we can make it. Just be careful. The rocks are slippery."

He finishes the crossing and, on the opposite riverbank, shakes the water off himself, almost like a dog. Erienne giggles at this, and despite everything, the sound of her laughter, such a rare thing now, makes my heart sing. All we need to do is cross this river. From there, the train station isn't far. We are almost free.

We glance around at each other. It seems none of us want to go first. Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, I force a smile. "We'll go first. Right, Erienne?"

She looks up at me uncertainly, her little face scrunching up. Before she can protest, I scoop her up in my arms and whisper in her ear, "You're my brave girl, right?"

Erienne bites her lip and nods. "Yes, mama."

"Okay. This is almost over, brave girl. Once we cross this river, we'll be safe," I whisper.

I take the first step. The water is so cold that my leg is numbed with its touch. Icy pinpricks spread through my body, and goosebumps prickle on my flesh. Still, I take another step, holding Erienne in one arm, using my other to steady myself. She clings to my neck, whimpering quietly. The soldier is taller than me, and by the time I am a quarter of the way to the shore, Erienne's feet dangle in the water.

"Mama, it's cold!"

She squirms in my arms, and I fight to maintain my balance on the slippery stones. My breath freezes in my throat as my left foot skids off one of the rocks.

"Careful!" the soldier shouts from the other side, while behind me, I hear the collective gasp of the other women.

Erienne wails, water soaking her as I fall. At the last minute, I catch myself, pushing myself upright again. I take a shaky breath that I exhale through chattering teeth.

"Erienne"—my voice trembles—"I know it's uncomfortable, but you need to stay still. Or we will both be in big trouble. Do you understand?"

She wipes her tearful eyes with balled fists but nods, and we set off again. Slowly, each step torturous, we make our way across. I'm submerged to my shoulders at the river's deepest point and Erienne to her waist. She sobs but doesn't writhe again.

Finally, we make it to shore. The soldier removes the blanket he has wrapped himself in and hands it to me. It's damp but provides a little warmth as I wrap it around myself and Erienne and wait for the rest of the women to cross.

We huddle together for warmth until the last woman makes it across. Somehow, we manage to muster a weak cheer, but there is little time for celebration as the soldier almost immediately begins ushering us onward, back to the march.

Two hours of walking, cold and miserable, but it's clear things are different on this side of the river. Others join us on the road, looking as haggard and weary as we do. But the mood has shifted. For the first time, hope bubbles back to the surface. We truly believe that we're going to make it.

Chapter Four

We reach the town and join the throng headed through the town for the train station. After so much time in solitude, the station mass of humanity is overwhelming. A wave of anxiety sweeps over me. My palms sweat and my heart thunders in my chest, but all the same, I press forward, carried by the wave of bodies.

I cannot choose where I go. I am part of a wave that crashes at the station, breaking as people split off in various directions, heading for buses lined up across the way and the train dead ahead.

A frazzled woman in a yellow vest thrusts a blanket at me without a word, then moves on to the next refugee doing the same. Gratefully, I wrap myself and Erienne in it.

"Where is this train going?" I ask as I step on board, Erienne held in my arms.

The man shouts a name that I do not recognize, but I realize it doesn't matter. I have no friends, no relatives elsewhere to go to. Any city outside the border is as good as the next.

"Miss, you can have my seat," a young boy says with a smile, standing.

I blink at him, and he nods. "Yeah. She looks like my little sister." He studies Erienne and a look of incomprehensible sadness, then is pushed away as more people file onboard.

The whistle blows, the hum of the engine mingling with the low chatter of the weary refugees around me. I stare out the window as the train begins to move and whisper, "We will be back."

We are seedlings adrift now. But wherever we land, our roots will remain, buried with the bodies of those we loved in our homeland.

About the Author

Kate Seger

Kate is a dog mom, whiskey connoisseur, and freelance editor. She writes fantasy romance series, including Tales of the Gloaming and The Ethereal Realms. When she's not searching for fairy circles in hopes of being transported to an enchanted kingdom, Kate is busy at work on her next story.

She lives with her husband and dog on the banks of the Hudson in Westchester, NY where there are disappointingly few portals to other realms.

www.katesegerauthor.com

Also By Kate Seger

Fairytale and Mythology Retellings

Tales of the Gloaming

Tooth & Nail

One Wish

Soul of the Ocean

Tria Ellinka - A Trio of Greek Goddess Tragedies

YA Fantasy

Ethereal Realms

The Wood Witch's Daughter

The Last Dreamer

Red Reign

The Ship’s Maiden

Poetry

Fae Touched

Sacrifices

Melanie Delaney

A short high fantasy tale of curses, sacrifices and hope.

Chapter One

“Sprigs of lavender,” the rotund wizard, Jareth, muttered as he ran his heavy finger along the hundreds of drawers that made up his late wife’s apothecary shop. Quickly finding what he was looking for, he placed them on the scorch-marked table with the other herbs he had collected. Jareth sat down carefully, praying to the Goddess that the stool would again hold his girth. Not only had his wife been an adept witch, she had been an exceptional cook, resulting in his overhanging paunch and excessive jowls.

Two of the other stools held a young couple who sat silently, clutching each other’s hands. As Jareth began to deftly crush herbs into a copper mortar, the young lady spoke. “Do you have children, Healer Jareth?”

“Nay. My wife was never well enough to carry our own. But she did have success with helping many others,” he assured the anxious pair. Picking up a small, sharp paring knife, he gestured to the lad. “Hand.”

The young man gulped but didn’t falter when he held out his calloused hand. “I need the iron in your blood,” Jareth explained as he sliced across the meaty palm. “I will give you an excellent salve that will have it healed in a day.” The man’s frown cleared and he watched with fascination as his blood pooled in the shallow cut before dripping into the receptacle.

Jareth quietly incanted the spell, apologising and appealing to the Mother in equal measure that it was he and not his beloved wife, Elmisst, asking for the blessing of fertility during the full moon on this desperate couple’s behalf.

Without warning, a buzzing sound began to emit from the hidden shadows in the far corner of the shop. Jareth swept up the copper bowl and moved to the corner, quickly lighting a lantern to reveal a colourful bird with a bright blue beak. He put the bowl in the bird cage and petted the bird who promptly stopped his buzzing. “Thank you for the warning.” Jareth then lit two more lanterns before taking out his healers sewing kit.

“We are about to get visitors. You cut your hand at work.” Jareth threw a clean cloth at the lad. “Put this on your wound.”

He waddled across the shop, quickly unlocked the door, and opened it wide just as the soldier went to knock. The shop was flooded with the sound of late afternoon traffic as a patrol of guardsmen stood in the doorway. The crunch of wagon wheels on the crushed stone, hawkers selling their wares and children being herded home filled the small space.

“Is someone injured?” inquired Jareth, filling his voice with false empathy.

“I am to check all apothecary shops today for uses of witchcraft on this full moon,” announced a stern-faced Sergeant.

“Do I look like a woman?” Jareth held a hand to his own chest as if offended.

The baby-faced sergeant looked over Jareth’s shoulder and into the room. “There is a woman right there. Move aside so we may enter.”

A slight cough stopped Jareth from responding. “Sir, this is Healer Jareth Hystrom, he has run the apothecary shop by himself, for the past four years, since his wife, Elmisst, passed away. Elmisst, was a well-respected midwife, and there was never even a hint or rumour that she was a witch.” The soldier that spoke was perhaps a decade older than the sergeant and was clearly the true leader of the patrol. The sergeant was probably related to someone that had bribed someone else to get the self-important young man the elevated position.

Jareth moved so he was standing side on and spread his arm wide. “I am about to stitch the lad up. You are welcome to stay.” Even though it looked like he was inviting them in, Jareth’s girth still blocked the entrance to the shop.

The ‘injured man’ obligingly held up his hand with what was now a blood-soaked rag over his palm. The sergeant paled. “No time today; too many shops to check,” he qualified hastily.

Jareth smiled reassuringly before he closed the door. “I’m sure.” He locked the old wooden door and looked over at the couple, who rather than being cowed at the intrusion, sat a little taller. “I would apologise for the interruption but feel that the stupidity of the soldiers who enforce the laws of the Emperor as he cowers in his tower are not my responsibility.”

The woman looked sad as she spoke. “Imagine a world where there wasn’t someone trying to force someone else into their perceived way of life. If we could just be who we were without fear of anyone. Your wife must have been brave to continue to practice her gifts with the threat of death continually hovering over her.”

“Elmisst always claimed that her fear was not going to rule her. That she was who she was and no threat of persecution would change that. Her favorite thing to say was that you had to be yourself because everyone else was already taken. Said she heard it from a scribe named Oscar Wilde, and it always stuck with her.” Jareth smiled kindly at both of them as memories of his resilient and determined Elmisst filled his mind.

“I hope to be as strong and fearless as her,” the young woman said firmly as she settled onto her stool a little more and covered her stomach, reminding Jareth of why they were there.

“You already are.” His voice was firm. Jareth moved back across the room and opened the colorful bird’s cage to take out the blood-filled bowl. “You are going against one of the laws that Emperor Possimino is obsessed with. You are not sitting in a room praying and doing nothing to help yourself, you are fighting for what you want. While you keep fighting there is hope.”

Jareth brought the bowl back to the couple and stirred the blood slowly, making certain the herbs he had added hadn’t all sunk to the bottom. He had one more component to add and the spell would be cast. He placed the bowl on the mantel above the blackened fireplace that held a small fire regardless of time of day or season. “Did you bring what was asked?”

“Yes,” they spoke in unison.

“Come and toss them into the fire.” Jareth stepped aside and the pair stood up and walked to the hearth. They both took out a small lock of their hair from their pockets and threw them carefully into the fire. The fire flared and the smell of burnt hair filled the small area. “Thank you, you may take a seat again.”

As the couple returned to their stools, Jareth took up a small shovel and dug up a tiny amount of ash from the coals. He carefully dumped them into the copper bowl and uttered a new spell and silent plea to the Mother. The response he got almost made him drop the bowl. Its metal turned cold, felt freezing to touch, and began to vibrate softy in his hand. What was happening? he thought to himself… he didn’t expect an answer and almost yelped when a soft, female voice spoke in his mind.

Your request has been answered, but there is more. The time is now and they are the ones. The babe could be the forewarned curse if everyone is resolute in their conviction for change.

Jareth kept his face straight as he pondered the words of the Mother. The copper bowl had returned to normal temperature and had stopped vibrating. He placed it back on the mantel and faced the couple. “Let me dress the wound and then you can be on your way.”

Jareth held the young man’s hand and gently dabbed the blood away with a clean, damp cloth. He threw the soiled material into the fireplace and took up the pot of clear salve. He spread it thickly over the small cut and placed a tight bandage around the man’s palm, and as he tied the knot, Jareth did a small incantation under his breath, drawing on his own wizard powers to heal the wound immediately. As he completed the knot, he spoke the final words of his spell under his breath. “There you go,” Jareth announced. “It should be feeling warm.”

The young man looked down at his hand. “Yes, it is heating up.”

“Good, that means it is working. It will stop in a few moments.” The amount of power Jareth had just used was inconsequential and easily replaced. His incantation had been to the Father, just as the spell he had used prior was to the Mother. It always amazed him that Emperor Possimino had never considered that men could carry power too. Women with power were labeled witches and taken to be slaughtered, while men with power still managed to remain completely free of persecution simply because the Emperor couldn’t comprehend that if he didn’t have power then no man would, as he was the ultimate man in the eye the Father—at least that’s what Jareth assumed.

“Now, off you go.” Jareth unlocked the door and noted that the afternoon sun was setting and the full moon was already in the firey orange sky. It was a spectacular view. “Elmisst would have told you to understand that these things take time and to trust in her powers and the Mother. Relax and enjoy each other because everything will change once the babe comes.” As they had paid prior to the meeting there was naught to do but say their thank yous, and again promise that they would say nothing regarding what had occurred within the shop.

Jareth watched the young couple link arms and walk down the busy road before he turned back into the shop and relocked the door. He blew out several candles and lamps, opened the cage door that held the beautiful colored bird to allow it its freedom, as he did every night, and returned everything to its proper place. As he did so, the young lady’s voice filled his mind.

“Imagine a world where we could just be who we are.”

He understood why these two had been chosen to raise the babe who would bring forth the curse. They would be loving, kind, and steadfast. They were also very clearly not prejudice against witches and wanted the chance to be who they were without judgement. That would never happen under Emperor Possimino’s rule. He sat in his guarded tower issuing orders but hiding from the world. He had been cursed by a witch and now she hung naked in a cage over the entrance of his palace in warning to any who thought to wield their powers in his empire. She had sworn to the Mother that if he spilled anymore witches’ blood he would pay the ultimate price. His empire would fall and his throne would be taken from him with force. That witch had been willing to die for what was right and so had Elmisst. Now it was Jareth’s turn. Only those with a connection to the Mother and Father understood that the curse was about the birth of a child who would bring change, not an army who would sweep in an take the empire.

“I will sacrifice so hope can remain,” Jareth said softly to himself as he settled into his favorite chair in front of the ever-burning fire. He once again picked up the blood, herb, and ash filled bowl and the blue beaked bird settled on his shoulder. “I am ready,” he announced with finality. He was resolute in his conviction, just as the Goddess had wanted.

Slowly Jareth poured his life force into the bowl, as he had done earlier with the young man’s hand, but this time he didn’t stop. He allowed himself to open his reserves, and as he emptied them his mind remained calm. Typically, at this point, his body would be frantic as it struggled to find power to refill the well, just like someone drowning would panic and fight to find air, but this didn’t happen; instead, a picture began to form in his mind. Elmisst. His beautiful, strong, and exceptional wife was waiting for him. Jareth would die giving his people hope. He knew without doubt as the final shreds of power left his body and his heart stopped that he was doing the right thing and that filled him with peace.

The Mother and Father wept, and the sky filled with rain. Sacrifices were always demanded if change were to occur, but that never made it easy.

About the Author

Melanie Delaney

Melanie adores reading, traveling and dragons. Classic epic fantasy with grand adventures, harrowing quests, and fated destinies are her favorite thing to read and write.

She has studied sci-fi and fantasy writing, and is a sucker for happy endings.

Melanie is currently working on a six-book fantasy series, The Sky Hunters, while editing a sweeping epic fantasy trilogy, The Fractured Werld.

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https://www.melaniedelaneyauthor.com/

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A Sunrise On Occupied Lands

F. Stephan

Chapter One

Dom woke in his cold sheets from an uneasy sleep. Striking a match, he lit the table lamp, exhaling slowly, his breath solidifying into a thin mist. Three in the morning read his watch in the dim light.

“I need another log,” he muttered to himself, fetching the heavy winter jacket he had prepared under the blanket.

Above the house, a faint buzz betrayed a drone on a surveillance patrol. Dom didn’t pay attention. As the village doctor, the drones surveyed his home several times every night. He rose and walked heavily to the large stove in the lounge. He had walked far the day before, and he should have stretched before going to sleep. And the gin won’t help. He took a log from the pile he had brought inside and pushed it into the stove. In the kitchen, he took the bottle of water and drank half of it. That would help, come the next morning. At last, the buzz decreased and left. The drone had left.

“Everyone knows you watch me, idiot. I’m no part of the Resistance and you know it,” he said aloud in case the house had been tapped once again. But I know how to reach them, and you know it. He had checked his home again that very morning, removing two hidden devices. A futile gesture, but since the so-called Felian Liberation Army didn’t admit to facing an Alonian Resistance nor to spying on its brand-new freed citizens, they could do nothing about it. Petty. But petty is all I have left. I was too much of a coward to flee when I could have before Liana died. Like every night for the past five years, he cursed himself for his weakness on that day.

Unable to sleep, he started the power generator to watch his TV set. It was one of the last in the entire district, his own requisitioned and then lent back by Felians for remote surgical operations. As if I was still a doctor. We keep people barely alive. Nothing more.

He watched the official channel for a few seconds. “The warm welcome by the freed people of Alonia.” The news showed the bright streets of Alonia, near the historical center, with a cheering crowd. Narrow focus. Barely two streets visible, snorted Dom inside. President Rza’la of Felian waved at everyone from the protection of his armored limousine. Another quick visit to ensure we stay under your leash, Mister President?

“Next comes the judgment and execution of Sahil Nifac. Suspected of criminal activities, he had been wired for remote monitoring. The monitoring officer has shown all proofs of his intention to attack the Liberating armies of Felian to the Criminal Court. Upon the judgment, he proceeded to the immediate execution of the guilty.” That’s how Felian handled its justice, wiring people, watching through their eyes, listening through their ears, and remote-detonating a bomb if the controlling officers thought the wired misbehaved. The judgement was only a formality with judges, officers in the Army. Dom closed his eyes as the show lingered on the man exploding in the middle of a crowd, killing others around him. Liberating army, spat Dom. Ruling by fear and random executions.

Unable to watch more, he grabbed the remote in his jacket, activated the frequency scanner hidden in his room, and searched for the Alonian channel. His calling as a doctor had required strong skills in electronics which he now used often. Repair cyberimplants and watch TV. Pah…

Message from the President in Exile.

President Rza’la paraded in the streets of Alonia this morning. The cheering crowd you can see had their families invited to the Presidential Residence for a “People’s friendship” breakfast. At least, we hope they were able to eat.

Zalem Ieart, military commander of the Northern District, was captured in a Felian ambush. We loved him but do not, I repeat, do not allow him to contact you as he may be now wired and under the surveillance of a monitoring officer.

A counterattack from our Army in the Eastern…

The recording continued, but Dom wasn’t listening anymore, unable to breathe. Zalem. He looked for an old recording, zapping over his wedding with Liana and the birth of the kids. Too hard. Liana was dead, and the kids had fled in the entourage of the President in Exile. Instead, he searched for the high school end-of-year show with Zalem and Liana. The school had travelled to the Government Hall before the bombs erased it from the city maps. And the cards games. All the games of Ker they had played with Zalem. He grinned at that, Zalem’s little finger pressing lightly on the table. “Tap, tap, tap. I’m bluffing.” Brash, joyous, extrovert Zalem would lose and expose the other players while Dom, timid, introvert, barely visible, would crush them. Unbeatable, they had been.

Now that Zalem had been caught by the Felian Army, they would never play cards again. Never, ever again. That’s for being a coward and not fighting. You stay and watch the others die for you.

He reached for the bottle of gin, but his hand stopped. Come morning, the Felian Army might come with an urgent implant repair. He couldn’t tremble on those, especially with those wired soldiers where anesthesia wasn’t possible. Their monitoring officers had to watch the entire proceedings through the eyes of the wired injured, and doctors who had failed on those operations had been executed on the spot when they hadn’t been destroyed by the suicide bombs of the soldiers. Remote monitoring their own soldiers like our rebels. All of us transformed into human drones. Poor souls…

He took a blanket and dozed on the sofa, watching childhood memories. Nothing older than High School, nothing…

* * *

A noise against the shutter startled him. Three other light impacts followed. Pebbles. And another one. Dom forced himself up and walked to the door, still half-dozing. He opened it and his breath froze in the icy cold.

“Zalem, is that you?”

“Dom, let me in. I escaped. I walked. You’re…”

Do not, I repeat, do not allow him to contact you, the President in Exile had said.

Without listening to his inner voice, Dom ushered Zalem in the kitchen, facts registering as the ghost entered. Cuts and burns on his arms and legs. Acid spots on his head. Black eyes. Rags. Light torture. Praise the gods. Dom took a seat from the kitchen and pushed it under Zalem’s trembling legs. Then he quickly poured half a glass of clear water.

“Drink slowly. You will be dehydrated.”

“Thanks, Dom, I didn’t know where…” Zalem’s little finger pressed lightly on the table. Tap, tap, tap, too faint to be heard by the monitoring officer. They sent you here, didn’t they? They know I’m not in the Resistance. They have checked often enough. But they know I can find them.

“What happened?” whispered Dom, sitting opposite his childhood friend. “I haven’t seen you since…” Since the kids decided to join the Resistance, and I refused, and they reneged on their dad.

Zalem wept slowly. “I’ve fought Felians ever since they freed us. It’s a losing battle for the Resistance, you know. They have no fixed headquarters, only mobile units always on the move, spies, and airstrikes to enforce their rules.”

“I know,” answered Dom bitterly. “I devised that tactic with you. No classic occupation army can stand against a well-armed guerilla. But what if the army used the same tactics as the guerilla? It could hold any country. Not rule it but hold it. Only problem is that they used it against us better than we thought was possible.”

“They hide so well they haven’t even dismantled our ground-to-ground missiles. Just to prove we can’t harm them.”

Dom nodded. Just a week before, they had shot an entire show in the old base by Alonia’s dam in the hills above the city. The missiles were still on their launchpad, ready to be fired, except they were useless unless someone could pinpoint the exact location of the mobile headquarters.

Zalem continued, “Anyway, I thought we had found the Northern Mobile Headquarter. Regressive pattern analysis. It should have worked, Dom. It should have.”

“I trust you on that,” said Dom softly while Zalem wiped two tears from his eyes.

“I led the attack, but it was only a honeypot. They killed everyone except me. They brought me to the real headquarters for the first round of interrogation.”

Dom knew the tale. The few ones who had been let out of the secret prisons had told the same, enough to scare the hell out of everyone, including Dom.

“This afternoon, they decided to transfer me to the secret interrogation facilities. I left the mobile Headquarters for a secondary Relay. It was attacked, I escaped, and I walked. Tap, tap, tap.

Dom nodded and forced a smile. “You did well. I’m proud of you. Do you want me to examine you?”

Zalem’s eyes went mad for a brief time. “No, not worth it. They have tortured me, but nothing is broken. They kept me intact for further interrogation.” Tap, tap, tap. “I can eat a little if you can spare.”

From his looks, Zalem looked close to fainting. Dom got up and reached for the pantry, grabbing a loaf of bread. At least, they had farms around the village and more food than in the towns.

“Good, I had feared they would have transformed you into a human drone,” Dom said while cutting a slice.

“With a monitoring officer watching and listening to us? No, that’s against international laws and treaties for war prisoners. Only reserved for their soldiers…” tap, tap, tap. “They just tortured me. Nothing more.”

“Good. All those booby-trapped people among us. All under the constant surveillance of their watchmen. Even if I had the skills, you can’t even remove it surgically. It just self-destructs and triggers the remote bomb.”

Felians had given enough technical details to all surviving doctors in Alonia to dissuade them from attempting operations.

“Dom, the bread is stale?”

“Yes, around here, rationing has worsened again. The Felian Army holds our country, but after five years, they still can’t feed us...”

Zalem laughed. “They won the war but only hold ruins now. Ruins of ruins, maybe.” He continued to eat in sobered silence. “I have a way to end this.” Tap, tap, tap.

“Tell me?”

“Felians will continue kidnapping and torturing people until they destroy the Resistance. Alonia won’t survive this.” Dom hoped for a tap, tap, tap, but nothing. Zalem continued. “I have been there. I can revise and update my regressive model and reach the North Mobile Headquarters. Strike back at them where they think they are safe.” Tap, tap, tap.

He is wired and carries a bomb. Either he destroys the two of us or the Resistance. And if I don’t lead him there, this will only continue with more murders. I am a doctor, damn it. I should heal people.

Dom pushed his chair and got up. “I need to dress myself.”

* * *

His room was less cold, thanks to the fire, but not really warm. In his teens, he would have called it freezing. But it was good enough for him to dress himself in quick moves. Thick trousers, heavy woolen jacket. Nothing pretty. Pretty had left Alonia. But sturdy and enduring. Alonia had plenty of that.

“I should run,” Dom whispered.

This house is under surveillance. You won’t reach the edge of the forest, replied Liana from the picture on the nightstand.

“If I can reach the border, the kids would take me in.”

Don’t kid yourself. Zalem went straight at you. He probably walked less than a mile. What else can you do?

“Remove his monitoring device?”

You don’t have enough skills for that. You can repair an implant, but that’s all you can do. Nothing more.

Dom sighed. At least he had nothing to lose anymore. Nothing. I just don’t want to die for nothing.

An idea came to him. A foolish idea. Liana would have frowned at him. You can’t anymore, love. And I’ll join you. That’s a bonus.

* * *

“We’ll need a guide. There are several checkpoints now to the Resistance.” Tap, tap, tap.

“I have walked here. I can walk further if need be.”

“OK.” Dom drew out a tiny laser and pointed outside. “Fire at the top of the oak tree three times. You must repeat it four times with a minute between two series. And keep focused on the top. Otherwise, we won’t be detected.”

“Slow process.”

“Yes. But if you don’t watch for it, you’ll miss it. At least, the army has until now. While you do that, I’ll get the backpack and a few gifts if we need to bribe someone.”

Dom hoped the procedure would distract the monitoring officer. Zalem moved to the window, pointing his laser outward. Dom left the room, grabbed the backpack from the closet, always ready if he needed to reach an outlying farm, and his surgical knife. In silence, he walked back inside the kitchen behind Zalem.

A quick, shallow cut at the base of the neck. Zalem didn’t move, eyes still focused on the oak tree. Dom winced inside as if he had cut himself. He frequently had, and he knew how much it would hurt.

“It’s hard not to tremble,” said Zalem in a controlled voice. “I am more tired than I thought.”

Dom forced himself to draw another quick slash. For the first time in weeks, he was sure of himself, steady and precise. He reached inside his jacket and retrieved the tiny radio scanner. In two moves, he inserted the nanojacks in the wounds and secured them in place with a small tape below the collar. Not hidden, but it would pass a quick inspection. Felians wouldn’t look at them too closely while the monitoring officers thought they were leading them to the Resistance headquarters.

He went back two steps, let the knife slide in his pocket, and coughed. “You’re doing a good job. I have everything we need for the travel.” Zalem turned, and Dom showed the backpack. “Now, a drink. We’ll need it.”

They both went back to the table. Dom poured a glass of gin while Zalem cut the bread. For a long time, they ate and drank in silence. The monitoring officer won’t like this. Dom forced himself to talk. “Remember when we skipped school and went fishing…”

Zalem had a thin smile. “And your father found us? Aye…”

They continued to chat like old friends, just for the sake of the monitoring officer. Anyway, I need time to pinpoint the signal’s origin.

* * *

When the pebbles stroked the shutters, Dom hurried to open the door and ushered Ayla inside. He had hoped they would send her. Another old friend. She had been one year older than they were and moved in other circles. But she recognized Zalem instantly. They had played cards together, one of the few who had found how they cheated.

“Dom, it’s…”

“Zalem is clean. They didn’t hold him long enough. We need to evacuate him fast where the Resistance will debrief him.” Tap, tap, tap. She swallowed. She was compromised like all of them, dead as soon as they reached the Resistance. “They held him at the North Mobile Headquarters. There is a chance, a real chance, he can help strike back.”

Ayla looked at him, eyes narrowing. She waited for the tap, tap, tap, and instead, he said. “This is true.”

“Then, we need to hurry…,” said Ayla.

“Thanks.” Dom shook Ayla’s hands and slipped to her remote controller for the scanner at the same time.

At the touch of metal, she hesitated and then squeezed his hand in return. “Just like old times.” Ayla led them outside through the fields to an old cave and an even older truck. “It’s fully licensed. I’ll drive you through the checkpoint by the river and the one by the dam. I’ll drop you there before sunrise, and someone else will pick you up.” Tap, tap, tap. “I don’t know who he or she is. Don’t ask…”

* * *

“Good luck,” said Ayla, waving at them from the car.

Dom waved back and watched her drive away. “It may take a while for the next driver to reach us.”

Zalem pointed to a large hill above the river. “We could watch the road from there. And watch the sunrise at the same time…”

Dom nodded. If Ayla is as good as she used to be, we won’t have time for that. “I’d like to see the sun…”

* * *

Message from the President in Exile.

Dear compatriots,

Just before sunrise this morning, Ayla Puyt, resistant, launched a ground-to-ground missile synchronized to the remote-control frequency of monitoring officers. It went hypersonic in four seconds and obliterated the North Mobile Headquarters of the Felian Army.

Zalem Ieart, former military commander, resistant, who had been subject to the remote-control, died when the bomb he had carried self-destructed, since it had lost the feedback loop from the controlling officer. Dom Rople, a doctor from a village close to Alonia, former military officer, and father to two of my advisors, died with him after implanting the frequency scanner. Both allowed a counterstrike no one would have dreamed possible.

This destruction triggered a chain of deaths for the Felian army. Four hundred officers and soldiers were also killed by their own bomb. The Eastern Mobile Headquarters suffered one such blast and was stopped long enough for our troops to destroy it. Fourteen Mobile Relays were also destroyed and captured at the same time. An officer was reporting to President Rza’la of Felia on current operations when the self-destruct was triggered. He killed the President and his entourage, including the Felian high commands.

I won’t hide that bombs implanted in civils from our ranks led to at least five hundred civilian casualties and more are expected once every death is accounted for. We all mourn them today.

Dear compatriots, the Felian Army is broken and leaves our country. They have never held it really nor have we surrendered. Today, against all hopes, we have won the war. Tonight, we pray for Zalem and Dom, who gave their lives to end this war.

You are free.

Also By F. Stephan

Thank you for reading this short story

You can find all other books of the Human Starpilots here.

You can find more information on my work on my facebook page.

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About the Author

F. Stephan

Fabrice Stephan is an engineer and works by day as a project manager. As a life-long fan of classic science fiction as well as emerging new voices from the genre, his underlying passion is the exploration of technology through fiction.

When he is not exploring other worlds, Fabrice Stephan has crossed much of the globe. Born in the USA, he has lived in France, Denmark and Australia before settling in Macon, France, near the border of Burgundy, with his wife and two kids.

https://www.amazon.com/F-Stephan/e/B07D4M7NGK
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Love Letter

Tracy Broemmer

1 Hunter

It’s the sort of bar that feels old—classic, not worn. The room feels hazy, but there’s not a lit cigarette to be seen. Smoky, sexy jazz piano provides relaxation for some and an excuse to dance close for others. Hunter Devereux does neither. Instead, he watches Sloane, his body hard with tension. She’s changed from the knobby-kneed tween he met on the playground so long ago. She hides her freckles now under makeup, her loud, hearty laugh is more civilized and polite, and her favorite pastime is no longer picking up frogs in the creek on his grandparents’ farm.

For the most part, Hunter admires the changes in Sloane Underwood, because he’s changed, too. No telling when he last caught a frog, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a polo shirt with the collar popped, and he’s no longer afraid of his own shadow or girls and definitely not Sloane. While the younger Hunter liked the tween Sloane well enough, and they had eventually become good friends, there’s something to be said for watching a cute pigtailed girl grow into herself.

Sloane’s well-sculpted shoulders are on display in the sleeveless navy gown she wears tonight. Hours of CrossFit training and yoga keep her body well-toned and strong, though as her good friend, Hunter knows she goes to the classes for something more. Sloane claims the mental clarity and the emotional benefits far outweigh any physical results she achieves. She deserves the clarity and most definitely the emotional highs, especially after her ex left her at the altar. She knows she’s better off without him, though it did take her a bit to say so.

She tilts her head now, her eyes locked on her dance partner’s face as she listens to him speak. There’s nothing sexy about how they dance, not even to the sultry come-hither rhythm of the jazz. Sloan Underwood, the girl who used to catch frogs, is now an event planner for the community economic foundation. The entire evening of jazz and tuxedos and gowns and champagne is all by her design. The money raised for the extravagant annual spring gala will go toward a new children’s wing at the hospital. Dancing with the banker is more duty than pleasure for Sloane.

Well, duty and a good way to avoid Hunter.

For the first time in what feels like hours, Hunter looks away and drains his glass. He sits alone at the bar, so when Lester, the ancient bartender with silver hair and papery black skin, approaches with a smile, Hunter slides the Old-Fashioned glass over the polished mahogany and nods. Rather than look at Sloane again, Hunter watches Lester mix another drink.

His bags are packed.

“Our girl outdid herself again.” Lester’s old voice seems to crackle like his skin. His teeth shine bright white when he offers Hunter a smile. Hunter looks down as the man nudges the glass back to him and focuses on the gold band on his ring finger. Lester’s wife, Delia, passed away three years ago. Sloane had been particularly fond of the old couple since getting to know them, and she took Delia’s death hard.

Just one more thing about her that Hunter fell in love with.

No one here knows that. No one other than Hunter and Sloane.

To Lester and his cronies at The Crafty Rooster, to the people mixing now on the dance floor or gathered around cocktail tables, Hunter is Sloane’s best friend from childhood.

When had that changed?

Hunter sips his drink and nods appreciatively. Lester is a master mixologist and a good man.

“That she did,” he agrees.

The club is elegant, and Sloane has a talent with décor. Less is more. The tiny twinkling candles in the center of each cocktail table are more than enough accent for the pristine white table coverings and the exposed teakwood beams in the ceiling. Recessed lighting near the raised stage aids the musicians without ruining the noir atmosphere. The Crafty Rooster was her choice of venue for the annual spring fundraising event. Judging from the comments he’s heard and the people who watch her now, Sloane struck gold again.

Winn hurt her.

Hunter swallows hard and tugs at the collar of his white shirt. He’s not averse to neckties or bowties, but thinking about Sloane’s ex makes his chest expand and his throat feel tight. If the bastard hadn’t run when he did, Hunter might have killed him. Not for leaving her, but for putting his hands on her. Two nights before the wedding, angry with her for catching him in a lie, Winn hit her. The black eye was even worse than the one she had when she was fourteen and got in a fist fight with a girl in her class.

Two fingers in the collar, Hunter tugs again. He coughs, and Lester watches with a frown, as if he swallowed the whiskey wrong and not the relationship Sloane was in. Thank God, she didn’t marry the guy.

When he said that to her, the gloves had come off. He almost chuckles now, remembering the way Sloane—no longer a kid, but still much smaller than him—scaled his body to go for his eyes. She hated being wrong, and she was so wrong about Winn Connolly, Hunter couldn’t hide his relief when it was over. Hand still at his neck, Hunter eyes the fingers of his other hand, watches them flex. Imagines them around Winn’s neck.

Sloane doesn’t know about that. The time he threatened Winn, well before the bastard hit her. Hunter had seen the way he watched her, isolated her from her friends. It made the guy crazy that he couldn’t drive Hunter away from her.

Hunter might have loved her when they were seventeen. It killed him when she went to prom. Her date was a nerd; that was the only thing that saved Hunter, that got him through that night. He didn’t go. The idea of dancing that close to a girl terrified him until that night when he was at home, playing video games, and imagining Sloane with someone else. That was the first time he realized he was attracted for Sloane Underwood.

When the music changes, Hunter swings his head to look her way. Eyes locked with the banker’s, Sloane rests her hand on the guy’s arm and smiles up at him. The banker gives her a polite nod and returns to his wife. Hunter waits, watches Sloane glide over the parquet dance floor and cozy up to one of her friends. They whisper a bit; Sloane’s smile is so sweet, Hunter’s heart hurts.

“You okay, young man?” Lester appears at the corner of his eye again.

Another prominent businessman approaches Sloane. When she flicks her eyes up to meet his, to say yes to his invitation to dance, she catches Hunter’s eyes. The clocks stop, and Hunter’s heart ticks off the beats of eye contact. For just a moment, her smile is only for him. But his love letter is between them, now, and all the times he’s asked her simply to say yes, and her smile fades into sadness, wariness, and she turns to her dance partner and away from Hunter.

With a whoosh of blood in his ears, the clocks ticks again and a song a bit more upbeat goads the dancers to move quicker. Hunter gasps, unaware he was holding his breath, watching her watch him. The night’s almost over. It’s nearly midnight, and his bags are packed, and he and Sloane had only exchanged hurried hellos before she was swept away to oversee the event.

Hunter gives Lester a curt nod. If this is it, if he’s going to crash and burn one more time, he prefers to be alone. Heartache is ugly, and if it isn’t your own, it’s as awkward to watch as it is to feel.

When he was offered the transfer, he sat on the decision. Making a home in the Lake Tahoe area was tempting, but if he had a choice, he would pick Sloane. Hunter has since discussed it with his boss, but again, heartache and the whole nine yards. The only person Hunter has ever been able to share secrets and feelings with is Sloane.

She said no. The note was his last-ditch effort, and now, for all the difference it’s made, Hunter wonders if she’s even seen it. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected it to change her mind. Winn left her scarred and scared, so much so that even Hunter can’t climb the wall she’s built around her heart.

“She loves you, too,” Lester says now, and Hunter straightens as if his spine is a steel rod. He snaps his gaze up to look at Lester, to question him, but the old man moseys down the bar to talk to other patrons, leaving Hunter alone. Just as he wanted it.

Of course, Lester meant Sloane, but what did he mean about Sloane? Hunter had never acknowledged that he was in love with Sloane to anyone else. So, Lester was obviously making that assumption about his feelings. Was he assuming Sloane felt the same, or had she confided in the old man?

Ever the optimist, Hunter wants to believe she loves him, and she told Lester so. But he can’t shake the tearful look she had given him the last time she told him no. After dinner and the theater, Hunter walked her to her loft apartment and at the door, he told her again he loved her and asked her to trust him. With a quick kiss on his cheek, she told him no, and she ran inside before he could say another word.

Hence the hastily scribbled note. The dozen roses, though by the time he handed them off to her earlier, they were a bit wilted and crushed.

Hunter takes another look at the small crowd on the dance floor. His heart stands still again when he sees that she is watching him over her partner’s shoulder. From so far away, he can’t see her eyes, but he knows her smoky gray gaze by heart. Wishing that he could hold her close on the floor—as lovers, not friends—Hunter presses his lips together. As if Sloane reads his mind, a look of desperation moves over her face, and she sinks her teeth into her lip before dragging her gaze away.

Had she thrown it all—the roses and his love letter—in the cloak room with her shawl and clutch purse? Hunter Devereux is a man of his word, and he promised her—the scrawny tween she used to be, the rebellious bombshell she had been at twenty, and the vulnerable yet resilient woman she has become—that he won’t ask again. If she says no this time, he’ll yank the bowtie from his shirt collar, toss it and his jacket on the passenger seat, and drive the seventeen hundred miles to Tahoe without a backward glance.

2 Sloane

Exhausted, Sloane Underwood sneaks a yawn when her dance partner looks the other way. When the night was young, she loved The Crafty Rooster, and she would again in the morning, but for now, she’s done. Most of the men here this evening are upstanding members of the community, the majority of them married with grown children. Most of them treat her with absolute respect. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t get tired of the charade. The community needs events like this; the new children’s wing at the hospital would benefit not only the youth here in Spring Valley, but those of the surrounding small towns, as well. Sloane enjoys her role as an event planner, but tonight, her duties feel like a heavy mantle around her shoulders.

She had seen Hunter earlier, but only briefly. The roses had been a shock. Not because he isn’t that sort of man, but because when they were kids, he hadn’t given her so much as a dandelion plucked from her front yard. After a rushed greeting, she had dashed to the cloakroom in search of a vase for the flowers. Wasn’t every day a girl got such a beautiful gift; in fact, Sloane could count on one hand the number of times she’d received flowers. And none of those times had been flowers from the man she was supposed to marry.

She found a vase and took a moment to arrange the roses, pricking her thumb on a thorn in the process. Hanna had thundered through the cloakroom into the restroom where she was, reminding her that well over fifty people were milling about in the small club, and Jacqui had dropped an entire tray of champagne glasses in the kitchen, and Sloane was needed.

Sloane only nodded and waved Hanna away. She considered tucking the small envelope inside her purse and reading it later. But because the note or letter or whatever was from Hunter, she ripped it open and smeared blood on the envelope.

They were buddies. Had been for nearly fifteen years. Hunter taught her how to shoot a free throw. How to skip rocks. She showed him the moves to the “Cha Cha Slide” and how to make the best peanut butter cookies ever. They jumped their dirt bikes off the edge of Hunter’s grandparents’ yard down by the creek. Waded in the water and caught frogs.

They had never kissed. Never considered it. Hunter was shy; in fact, if Sloane hadn’t been such a chatterbox that she carried their conversations for the first couple of years, they might never have connected. Hunter approved her dress and shoes for her senior prom. She went with him to scout out places to take a girl on a first date when they were in college and he met Lyssa. He razzed her about Mitch when she started dating him, and she read him the riot act and told him to run when Katrina set her eyes on him.

Hunter’s instant dislike for Winn had bothered her. In the early days, she pretended it was because she wanted her best friend and her lover to like each other. But after the disaster of a non-wedding day, when Winn left her at the altar—who was she kidding? After Winn had cheated one too many times, when she questioned him, when Winn’s verbal abuse had finally snaked its way into his fists and he used them on her—Sloane had to wonder if Hunter’s dislike for Winn bothered her for a different reason. Like maybe Hunter saw far more than a happy couple when he looked at them. Almost like his distaste for Winn was a mirror he held up for her to examine her relationship.

Soft strains of jazz piano surround her, and her current partner is a surgeon at the hospital, and she should be engaged in conversation. But she’s not. She’s thinking about Hunter. About the first time he said it. The first time he told her he loved her. Up to her elbows in hot sauce, with a wing in hand and a beer close by, she had laughed and rolled her eyes and answered with a snort that she loved him, too. Much to her surprise, she found something raw and intense in his dark eyes when she looked up at him.

Stunned by his admission and uncomfortable with what he was trying to say, Sloane let her gaze slide over his face—the blond scruff on his square chin and his full, chiseled lips—and then looked away and nearly lunged for her beer. The hell of it was, she wasn’t horrified by it. Not after that first second of realization. Maybe she never noticed before, but that night, she saw Hunter Devereux as a man, and she liked what she saw.

But Winn had only been gone a few months at that time. Winn, who had promised to love her in one breath and called her stupid for not trusting him in the next. Winn, who had proposed to her and then lied habitually about his finances and other women. Winn, who was supposed to keep her safe, but instead, had swung at her and blackened an eye.

Sloane brushes her fingers over her eye now and though it is completely healed as it’s been well over a year, her face flushes with shame at the memory of caking makeup over the bruises on her wedding day. Hard to see Hunter as a lover to begin with and decidedly so with that shame coloring her face.

The second time he didn’t even say it. He simply linked his fingers through hers, and though they had held hands a few times through the years of friendship—a drunken stumble through a haunted house when they were only nineteen comes to mind now—it felt different. And before Sloane could decide if it was different in a good way, she snatched her hand away from his. The flash of hurt in his eyes had been yet another reminder to her that she didn’t deserve him.

The guy had been her best friend for fifteen years, and never once had he hurt her. But she didn’t deserve him as anything more than that if she couldn’t trust him with her heart. And if one man had promised to love her and then abused her and walked away, how could she believe Hunter would be different? Easier to shy away from the prospect and stay strictly in the friend zone than eye Hunter through a different lens and worry that he would break her heart eventually, too.

Where would she be then? With a broken heart and without her best friend to carry her?

When the music ends this time, she knows the night is almost over. The pianist will play one more song, but the crowd has thinned out, and the club now has that has-been feel to it, cheap and tawdry as the lights start to come up and the buzz of conversation grows louder.

Sloane thanks the surgeon again for the dance and for his generous contribution to the cause. As the faint notes of one last song drift toward her, she knows it’s now or never with Hunter. His letter wasn’t a threat, but a promise. He loves her too much to hound her, and yet, he can’t stick around to watch her eventually love someone else. Sloane isn’t sure she would ever love someone else, but more than that, she sees that she is going to lose Hunter either way. Love him and break each other or protect herself and break him and send him running?

She searches the room frantically now. A moment ago, Hunter was still at the bar, apparently talking to Lester while he waited for her to make up her mind. Now, the stools are empty, and fear pounds up Sloane’s throat and explodes from her lips in a soft gasp. What if she’s too late? What if Hunter has already left for his new life?

“Sloane, dear, everything was lovely.”

She presses her teeth into her lip and turns to speak with the mayor’s wife. Small talk comes easily to her, but not right now. Phrases from Hunter’s letter thread their way through her mind, and the needle pierces her heart, and she has to find him.

Know that I’ll always be here, always be your shoulder, your champion, your friend. But if you can’t love me as a man, understand my need to escape and nurse my own broken heart. If you say no, I am leaving tonight for a new life across the country. Maybe a fresh start for me and some space for you is the best thing. If you do love me, Sloane, just say yes.

When the mayor escorts his wife to the door, Sloane whirls back to look at the bar.

There he is.

His hair is mussed, and his tie is loosened and crooked. Beneath it, the collar of his shirt is unbuttoned. She watches him fish cash from his wallet and hand it over to Lester. They exchange words; Sloane’s heart squeezes painfully tight when two of her favorite men shake hands. Hunter is telling Lester goodbye; he plans to leave now. She wonders if he would tell her goodbye if he had to search her out to do so, or if that love letter was the last, the best, he could give her.

Before anyone else can need her, Sloane leaves the dance floor, her heels clacking loudly on the floor. Even looking worn and frazzled as he does now, Hunter is a handsome man. It’s a wonder she never noticed that before. Maybe she was too busy admiring his heart to care about his thick brows and sharp cheekbones. If she admired his heart first, shouldn’t the rest be easy? Just a leap of faith and they could be together.

Kissing him might be reckless, but if she’s going to lose him at midnight anyway, maybe this is a chance she has to take. They’re easy together, she realizes as she approaches him. The music grows faint behind her, and she hears Hunter’s deep, sexy laugh as he talks to Lester. It doesn’t matter what they do, the happiest, the best times of her life are those she spends with Hunter.

“Hunter.”

He swings his gaze around to her. His dark intense eyes paralyze her. Those lips she considers kissing are turned down, and she realizes he’s given up on her. He’s readying himself to walk away and leave her.

“Sloane.” His smile is usually sweet and warm, bordering on impish, but tonight it’s resigned and tired, and even still, she notices the dimple on his chin and wants to brush her finger over it. “Tonight was great.” He nods, and she knows he’s proud of her; he always has been. For the first time, it’s not enough.

Speechless, Sloane watches Hunter reach back and shove his wallet in his pocket. He raises his glass one last time to empty it, and she wonders how long it will take for some lucky woman to snatch him up in his new life and make him happy. Make him a husband and a father and make him dinner every night and make him forget about her.

When he steps toward her, she throws herself into his arms. He holds her long and tight, and she wonders if he’s memorizing her so he can tell her goodbye. Afraid any moment will be it, that he’ll step away and leave, Sloane tightens her arms around his neck and presses her face to his. The scruff on his cheek against hers is tantalizing, and she pulls back just enough to catch the corner of his lips in a kiss.

Their eyes meet, and Hunter offers her a sad smile.

“I should go,” he says quietly.

She nods but decides that’s not enough. She has to say yes.

“Yes.”

“Take care, Sloane.” He cups her chin in his hand and kisses the tip of her nose.

“Hunter, I said yes.” Afraid now that he regrets the love letter, the feelings he poured out to her, her words hover on a shaky whisper.

“Yes?” His frown is sweet and heartbreaking, and Sloane covers his hand with hers and draws his fingers to her lips.

“Yes.” She nods and laughs, and then she pulls him close again and repeats yes over and over again. “Don’t go.”

His hands splay possessively over her lower back, and she feels his desire at her middle. His deep, slow laughter climbs from his belly, and she feels it against her chest. The Crafty Rooster fades away as they pull back just enough to make eye contact. Her palm over his cheek, she smooths her thumb over the laugh lines at his eyes.

“I love you,” she whispers and afraid it’s not enough, she says it again, but louder. Their first real kiss is soft and sweet, and the sexy atmospheric lighting around them gives way to harsh bright light. Sounds of chairs and tables being moved and stacked surround them, and still they kiss.

“There’s no more music,” Hunter says, and Sloane realizes they are swaying.

“I don’t need music, Hunter.” This time, the intensity in his hooded eyes doesn’t frighten her. It makes her want more. “Not when I have you.”

While she could stand here in his arms forever and sway without music, Sloane knows people are watching them. It’s time to leave, to take their party elsewhere.

“Let’s get your things,” Hunter suggests, and she nods and gives Lester a quick wave and a smile and leads Hunter to the cloakroom. His fingers are feather soft on her bare shoulders as he lays her shawl over her, and he waits when she slips into the ladies’ room to retrieve the roses. Hand in hand, they leave The Crafty Rooster. Without conversation, Hunter leads her to his car. At the passenger door, Sloane tips her head back to study the stars. The midnight sky twinkles, and Sloane feels like there’s magic in the air.

Spring is her favorite season; after all, it’s when she met Hunter on the playground at the park all those years ago. Maybe it’s fitting that after everything they’d shared together, they profess their love on a cool April evening under a sky full of twinkling lights. Maybe this will be good luck.

“You’re beautiful.” Hunter’s voice is low and sexy, and it slides through her body like fire in her blood. He unlocks his car and takes the roses from her. She will have to hold them on the drive, but for now, he sets them carefully on the floor in front of her seat and then gently closes the door and turns back to her.

Sloane has never felt beautiful a day in her life, but right now, at this moment, she does.

“You make me feel beautiful.” Her whispered words are carried away on the light breeze, and a tendril of hair that escaped the twist at the back of her head dances over her chin and her lips. Hunter brushes it from her face and then presses his thumb to the center of her lower lip.

She doesn’t need magic any more than she needs music. Not with Hunter. Not if Hunter loves her.

“What about Tahoe?”

She has to ask, because what if he told his boss he would go and now he’s stuck leaving, and her life is here? She could follow him, yes, but those are details she doesn’t want to bother with at the moment. She wants to undress her best friend and acquaint herself with his body in ways she never has. She wants to know his lean, hard body the way she knows his heart.

“I won’t go,” he says simply, and it’s not an answer, really, because Sloane still doesn’t know if he’s expected to show up for work there in a day or two, and if he leaves her to do that, and it takes her days, weeks, more to pack up her life and follow, those are days and weeks they’ll be apart.

Now that she sees him, now that she sees the two of them together, a day apart will be an eternity.

“Come home with me.” He steps closer to her and rests his hands on her hips. Heat roars through her body, and her heart beats BOOM BOOM BOOM and she nods, but they don’t move. They don’t get in his car. Instead, Sloane slides her hands up over his shoulders and curls her fingers around the back of his neck. The heat in his skin is both new and familiar, and at the press of his body to hers, her blood sings for him. She isn’t a virgin, but everything with Hunter feels new, and she is both hungry and terrified.

He tips his head down to look at her, and her hip feels cold when he moves his hand. Fingers gentle like a whisper, he traces the swell of her breast over the top of her dress. Sloane watches, the need for his touch and his love kindling higher inside her. When he looks up, his hooded eyes speak of longing, and he presses his fingers more firmly into her flesh. Sloane breaks the eye contact and watches him stroke her curves, her skin creamy and pale against the deep blue of her dress in the moonlight.

“Are you sure?” His voice is gruff when he speaks. Sloane lifts her eyes and watches him struggle for control when he swallows. Fascinated by the bob of his throat, she loosens her hold on his neck and traces her fingertip around the collar of his shirt. Hungry for more of his warm skin, she fiddles with the buttons and then laughs nervously and drops her hands to rest on his arms.

“Yes.” She gives him a quick nod.

He leans down to kiss her, but she presses up on her tiptoes to meet him halfway. Their lips touch in a staccato kiss, but Sloane feels his heat there, too, and she lingers. It’s not a dangerous, out of control fire that she’s playing with, but rather, a long burning fire that their friendship has stoked for years. Later, when they are alone, that fire will climb to dangerous heights and record heat, and Sloane craves that burn.

Hunter plays with her lips, sliding his over hers, back and forth, and finally, yearning for more, Sloane opens her mouth to nip at him. The playful kiss draws a laugh from him, and his laugh makes her need more, and her fingers climb back to his shoulders and dig in, whether to consume him or hold on, she’s not sure.

And then Hunter presses her into the car, his knee sliding just a bit between her legs. The silk of her dress swishes, and his tongue dances and glides over hers. If that is the test for them, they pass, and Sloane matches his hunger, thrusting her tongue in a delicious rhythm with his.

“Yes,” she says it again to loving him and making love to him, and finally, Hunter breaks the kiss and steps away to usher her inside his car.

His headlights shine on the asphalt as he steers the car toward home. He reaches over the console and covers her hand with his. The music on his car stereo is not the jazz from earlier, but old songs that throw them back to their younger days.

Maybe that’s when this started, and they’ve loved each other forever, and their friendship was their journey to this moment. Maybe their journey was littered with mistakes like Winn so that this time, for them, it will all be perfect.

“Hunter?” She rests her head on the seat and turns to look at him.

“Hmm?” His eyes twinkle in an oncoming car’s headlights when he looks her way.

“I’m terrified.” She grins and brushes at her eyes and continues with a laugh, “But it feels good to be terrified with you.”

Hunter gives her hand a gentle squeeze.

“That’s because even when it’s terrifying, you’ll always be safe with me, Sloane.”

At a stoplight, Hunter turns to meet her eyes. For a moment, neither of them moves or speaks. Finally, Sloane nods and offers him a small smile. He’s right. She’s delightfully terrified, because she knows Hunter Devereux loves her unconditionally, and that love between them—because she felt the same for him, she always has—will always keep them safe.

About the Author

Tracy Broemmer is a contemporary romance author with fun titles like Destiny’s Calling, Plus One, and the H Books—Gettin’ Hitched, Hookin’ Up, and Holdin’ On. Tracy also writes women’s fiction and is the author of the Williams Legacy series as well as several stand-alone titles.

Tracy’s books have been called gripping, emotional, and timely, and readers describe her characters as real and relatable.

Tracy lives in Midwestern Illinois with her husband of 29 years.

Totally Stepped

A Shifter Speed Dating Romance by Zoey Indiana

Need to repel a curse for shifter speed dating, what could go wrong?

The curse has stolen years from me with my fated mate. I have a plan in place to give myself a few hours to find my mate, but it all hinges on the True Love Tea Luncheon. Except the witch who curse our town to never find true love has struck again. The cream we use to activate our tea spells has curdled. Not only does it steal my chance to find my fated mate, it destroys my mercenary business, leaving all my employees on the run for their lives.

A spell experiment goes wrong, leaving me at the mercy of my screaming mate bond. I want Ravenna, but is this urge because she's my fated mate, or a side effect of the tea. When the tea's side effects never dissipate, I know she's the one destined for me.

But when she finds out that hid her dream job from her, I'm not sure she'll find a way to forgive me. Throw in a kidnapping, a possessed witch, and three meddling shifters, I'm not sure if we'll be able to save our town, let alone the world from the tea apocalypse.

Totally Steeped is the standalone in a series of short, steamy, shifter holiday romances. If you love laughing, cursed heroes, and fated mates, then you won't want to miss out on this treat… Download Totally Steeped today to start your next delicious adventure!

Chapter One

I threw the door to Curses and Cream open as I rushed inside. "Nore, we have a serious problem. Not only is today ruined, but we're at risk of losing all of our contracts."

Nore poked her head out of a back room. "What are you talking about?"

"Have you checked on the activator cream today… or any cream?" I held up three pints of cream. One was from my own stash while I'd stopped and bought the other two as I'd frantically rushed here.

"No, there's about half an hour left on the prep spell. I didn't want to disturb it." Nore crossed her arms as she stood in the doorway, glaring at me. "You know fussing with it will diminish its effectiveness."

I waved away her scolding tone. "Might as well check on it because it's curdled." "It can't be curdled. I've been doing this for longer than you've been alive. Besides, I'm not some new little witchling who ruins the most basic enchantments. As a member of the witches' council, I had to prove myself. I've been on the council for over a hundred years…"

I'd led her into the cream enchantment room and pointed at the cauldron. Large curds bobbed in the cast-iron pot.

"What? No." She shook her head as she staggered to the dairy disaster. "This can't be happening. I don't mess up little spells like this."

I waved a carton in her face. "All the cream in the town has turned."

Nore spun on me and snatched the container. She examined the contents of the carton as a sly smile crossed her lips. "So it has nothing to do with me. I told you I wouldn't mess it up." I glared at her. "Are you serious? Right now we need to figure out why everything has curdled. We have the True Love Tea Luncheon in an hour. Even if we could start over with the cream, it wouldn't be ready in time. Not to mention all of our contracts are going to curdle when they find out we can't deliver."

Nore's face fell. "I didn't think about the contracts." She wandered through the shop, straightening tea displays, ensuring each jar was in its place. The hand built wooden shelves gave the space a unique, quirky kind of vibe. Add in all the puntastic enchanted tea name tags, and it looked like something in a Hallmark movie… except with a witch.

Sometimes her inability to focus on anything but herself drove me crazy. "Our town's entire reputation is on the line. The mayor will have a conniption when she finds out. I don't want to know what kind of hex she'll cast on us for ruining the town's reputation."

She crossed her arms while leaning a hip against the counter. "I'll just find a different substance to infuse the activation spell into. Powdered cream was pretty convenient for long-term contracts, so
what's already created should be fine. From now on, maybe I can add a less flavorful tea leaf to the blends. Or…" Nore trailed off as she glared at the ringing phone on the counter. "Well, are you going to answer that?"

I rolled my eyes. "You do remember that I don't actually work for you. Technically, we're equal partners."

Nore waved my words away and pointed at the phone.

I sighed and picked up the phone. "Curses and Cream, start your day with a happy hex. What can we brew for you?" The greeting rolled off my tongue from the million times I'd heard Nore say it. "Zagan, is that you?" A male voice greeted my ears.

I couldn't quite place the voice even though it seemed familiar. "Yes."

"Thank the gods. This is Thorne. I got up this morning and went to make my invisibility tea, but every bit of creamer was black. It looked fine yesterday. I need you to overnight a replacement because I can't spy without it."

I groaned. "We're working on it, but you'll need to let your field liaison know you'll be out of commission for a few days. I don't have time to explain right now. I'll call you when I get an update." Before Thorne could protest, I hung up the phone and pulled the cable out of the wall. That wouldn't stop the flood of complaints from agents in the field, but hopefully it would slow them down.

"Wow, that's a hell of a spell to make even the powered stuff go bad. Who the hell did you piss off?" The phone rang, punctuating her statement. Nore waved her hand and the shrill noise died. Of course, she had a magical backup system for the phone. Nore flitted off to the side room and sat in a chair. I followed her, watching as she turned pages in her spell book that sat on an old wood table. This room held various ingredients, recipes, and spell books. It was where she developed the enchanted teas that gave the shifters I employed a magical boost.

"Excuse me, what makes you think I did this?" I plopped down in the seat across from her. If I was any less of a male, I'd be dead from the glare she shot me. "No one I know has a death wish that strong."

I thought about her words. Someone had to do a lot of planning and work to curdle all the cream. The spell had gone further than our little town. Hell, maybe it affected the entire country. With a quick search on my cell, I found news articles flooding my feed with the world lamenting their loss of cream for tea. "I can't believe this. It's the entire world."

Nore peered at my phone before going back to her spell book. She quietly flipped through the old, sepia pages as they crinkled underneath her fingers.

"I'll have to call the mayor if she-" my words drifted off as a green ball of light slammed into the window next to us. "What the fuck is that?" I watched as the shimmering light repeatedly bounced off the glass.

Nore rolled her eyes. "Probably the answer to our questions. Someone forgot to imbue it with common sense." She flicked her fingers as she whispered and the window slid open right before the orb would have crashed into the glass again.

The green ball floated between us then exploded green goo everywhere. Nore squealed in anger as it splattered over her face and clothes. I tried to spit out the gelatin-consistency slime. Oddly, it tasted like lime and cucumber. When I'd scraped most of it off my face, I saw the wax sealed envelope sitting on the table between us. It didn't have a speck of green on it.

Nore screeched as she flicked her fingers uselessly. "I'm going to hex a bitch for this!" She snatched up a cloth and wiped her hands and face. Then she grabbed the envelope and looked at the seal. She didn't seem to recognize it. Keeping it intact, she carefully pried the wax off the paper, then ripped the envelope open.

An unknown female voice read the letter aloud. "How dare you attempt to thwart my spell! It's one thing to sully yourself with your magick for hire by a shifter… but to work around my love banishment spell is another. For your audacity, I've had to rid the entire planet of cream. Don't choke on your creamless, bitter tea. P.S. I embellished this messenger spell with a little something extra. Have fun cleaning this up without magic!"

The letter burst into flames and disappeared with the envelope and wax seal. "That annoying, egotistical, self-serving bitch!" Nore grabbed a fresh cloth and wiped the pages of her book clean. "At least I preventatively placed a protection spell on all my books."

I pulled my shirt off, turning it inside out, and used a clean spot to wipe off as much of the goo as I could. Nore glared at me, then snapped, and an identical shirt appeared on me. "No one wants to watch you flaunt all that flying rodent flesh of yours." Nore went back to cleaning up.

"Hey, some people like my human form. Females frequently flirt with me. I just don't date them because I'm trying to find my fated mate, as shifters do."

She tossed the cloths in the trash. "Well, now it's confirmed. A witch cursed our little town. Which explains why none of you shifters can find love…" Nore paused as her glare focused on me. "It's your stupid True Love Tea Luncheon that started this!"

I gaped. She was right. The letter had referenced a love banishment spell. "Wait a minute. If they're trying to ban fated mates within this town, that means they have something to lose. You know what that means?"

Nore examined her shirt then cast a spell. When she pulled off the one covered in goo, an exact replica was already in place under it. "I have no idea." She dropped it in the trash can as she closed the window and went back to the book.

"We have to move forward with the True Love Tea Luncheon. This witch doesn't want someone to meet their fated mate, so we can't cancel it."

I tapped the table with my fingers, which resulted in another glare. "Of course when someone tells you not to do something, then curses the entire planet, you feel the need to piss off this powerful witch even more?" Nore tapped her long, perfectly polished nails on the table. "Actually, I think it might be fun. Flush this witch out and see how powerful this someone might be. And I have an idea of how to activate the tea."

Nore flitted around the room, grabbing different ingredients. A scoop of this, a sprinkle of that. I wasn't able to read any of the labels since they were in the same unfamiliar language as her spell book. She glanced at me, then whispered a spell so quiet, I couldn't even make out the words with my shifter hearing. A tiny jar of leaves flared with a bright white light. When she was done, she carried the small jar into the shop area. Nore placed her new enchanted tea on a table, then retrieved a larger container of Terrible Tipping Tea.

Her main business was enchanting prank teas with punny names for tourists to buy for unsuspecting victims back home. Without the activator cream, they worked more like a mild suggestion than actual magic. I watched as she boiled a tea pot of water, then set it on the table's potholder. With precise measurements, she combined the two teas and steeped them.

"Aside from being clumsy for an hour, it shouldn't bother you much."

The door chimed. I turned and watched the most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen step into the store. Ravenna. She lived on the other side of Witch Cove in a cute little cabin on the beach. I couldn't remember what she did for a living, but I'd run into her a few times.

"Are you having a tea tasting?" Ravenna neared the table and inhaled deep. "It smells delicious." Nore smirked as she glanced at the jar. I noticed there was no label on the jar, just the shelf. "Yup, Zagan here is testing a new blend for me." She poured two cups of the tea and gestured for us to pick them up.

I grabbed mine, wondering how to stop Ravenna from Nore's little prank. Since Ravenna was human, she wouldn't normally notice the effects of the tea, but with the new activator, it might actually enchant her.

Ravenna was too trusting. She picked up the mug and tapped it against mine, then took a drink before I could warn her. Not wanting to look suspicious, I gulped mine down. "This is really good." Ravenna took a few more drinks before she finished it off. She set the cup down and smiled. "I came to pick up my usual…" Ravenna's voice trailed off as she glanced at me.

Her gaze lit a fire inside of me I'd never felt before. I set the teacup down. Before I'd realized what I'd done, I'd pushed Ravenna against the wall and kissed her. Ravenna's hands pulled at my shirt, sliding underneath.

Nore cleared her throat. "Oh shit. I think I accidentally switched the teas earlier when I was straightening them. Probably should label the jars and not the shelves." Every muscle in my body froze at her words. I stared into Ravenna's gaze, consumed with the need to claim my mate. "I think this was the True Love Tea."

Chapter Two

"Please Zagan, take me right now. I don't know what was in that tea, but it feels like I'll combust if you don't make mad, passionate love to me right now." Ravenna pulled at my shirt, trying to open it even as I grasped at her hands. She playfully gagged at her words. "That sounded so cliche, but it's painfully true right now."

I held back a playful laugh, but a smile managed to escape before my brain kicked into gear. "Ravenna, no. It's not fair to you. There's so much more going on right now than you're aware of, and with our states as they are, the best thing we can do is get far, far away from each other until the tea wears off in an hour." I tried to back out of her reach, but she followed me with the neediest look I'd ever seen. It tore at me. My mate… I couldn't believe it. Ravenna was my mate, and I'd just rejected her. Well, not her or the idea of her, just the drugged version of her. I wanted our mating to be genuine. After years of trying to understand and find a way to thwart the curse, I'd finally found her, and the first thing I did was hurt her.

She finally let go and wrapped her arms around herself. Her knuckles went white at how hard she gripped her own arms. "I can't… do this for an hour. Please, just relieve the worst of it. I promise I won't expect anything to come from it. I mean, I know it's called a true love tea, but there's no such thing, so how can I possibly expect more?" Her eyes pleaded with need.

I didn't want to tell her there was no easy way to sate both of our needs without commitment. With me being a shifter and her being my fated mate, it had to be one or the other. If I took care of her today, I would have twenty-nine days to convince her to be mine forever or give up my life. I refocused on her eyes as I tried to control my tone. "Ravenna, I wish I could, but I can't promise that. Without going into deeper detail, it's for life or nothing."

Nore cleared her throat. "I'm going to leave the two of you alone, though I ask if anything happens, you at least spare the front of my shop from your debauchery."

I waved Nore away, even though I couldn't seem to pull my attention from Ravenna. "I won't survive this." Ravenna muttered as she collapsed into a chair.

"Mate, I wish I could fix it and be everything you need, but…" I trailed off as I searched for the right words, "I come with a lot of baggage. Trust me, I want nothing more than to take you home and give you so many orgasms you can't even walk or think, but it would come with more than you bargained for."

Tears ran down Ravenna's cheeks as her shoulders shuddered from a sob. "Go figure. I pine over the hottest shifter guy in town for years, and he rejects me. I shouldn't be surprised." She sat there with her eyes closed for a long moment before her lip tugged up on the side. "This would be the
perfect time to tell you to shove it, then stomp out, but every time I try to walk away from you, it feels like I'm trying to rip my soul in half."

"Wait… years? You've been interested in me for years? And you know about shifters?" My mind spun at her words.

She nodded. "The first time I saw you, it felt like I'd found my soulmate. Then when I tried to leave the party, I couldn't bring myself to. So I sat there for over an hour, frozen with hot guy anxiety." Ravenna had felt the mating call when I hadn't. I'd seen my own mate several times over the years and had never known. The loss suffocated me. I could have spent years with her, but because of some witch's curse, she'd stolen all of that from me… and probably several other shifters. "Ravenna, you're beautiful. I've been attracted to you since the first time I saw you, but… I have so many questions. Look, come home with me and we can talk. If you still want me afterward and the tea is cleared from our system, then I'm yours." And how did she know about shifters? This woman was so much more than she appeared.

"You're not some serial killer waiting for your next victim, are you?" She gasped as her body shook, but managed a soft, playful smile.

"If I was, I wouldn't tell you until it was too late." I held out a hand for her, hope starting to build in my chest.

"And yet, I'm still considering it even though the odds are stacked against you." My soul sighed in happiness as she took my hand and accepted my help with standing. "What odds?"

She nudged my shoulder with hers as I opened the door for her. "First of all, you're hot. Add in charming and seems like a good guy, and I think that ranks you up there on the likely to be a serial killer chart."

Once we were outside, I guided her to face me. "I promise you, I'm not a serial killer." We stared at each other for a moment. Mine. I needed her.

"Hey! Don't use your sexy, smoldering hot guy voice on me. I can barely restrain myself from ripping my clothes off and jumping on you as it is."

I held my hands up. "I promise to not use my masculine wiles on you until we're both of sound mind."

"Thank you."

I gestured toward my apartment down the street. "I live within walking distance if you're interested in learning more about my serial killer ways."

Ravenna laughed and gestured for me to show her the way. We walked in silence. Her arms were still wrapped around herself, like she was physically trying to restrain the desperate need we both
felt. My mind raced, trying to figure out the best way to ask her how she learned about shifters, and if she knew about fated mates.

When we arrived at my doorstep, I turned to her. I started to ask a question, but the words never made it out of my mouth. A van pulled up behind us and two men reached for us before I could even think. I felt pain explode in the back of my head, and I struggled to stay conscious. Something cold and hard slipped around my neck. Electricity sizzled through my body, forcing my beast deeper into a dormant state. The negation collar sapped the last of my strength. Everything faded away as I lost my fight to stay conscious and protect my mate.

Chapter Three

Soft hands slid over my body, coaxing me from unconsciousness. I groaned as the throbbing pain echoing through my skull smashed into me. Why did I hurt this much? My shifter healing should have kicked in by now, reducing some of that pain, but it hadn't. Something was wrong.

I blinked, trying to reorient myself when realization hit me. Someone in a van had kidnapped us. I sat up abruptly, narrowly missing smashing my forehead into Ravenna's. Mine. My mate. The call from my beast was more muted with the negation collar on, but that was because it forced him into submission. No matter how hard I tried, I wouldn't be able to get the collar off.

Then, desperate desire flooded me. I needed Ravenna… to mark her, mate her, and claim her as mine, forever. Before I could pull away, I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her deeply. She melted in my arms, and I wanted to stay like this forever.

Except I remembered where we were. I broke the kiss, though my body begged for more. My soul needed my other half, my fated mate, to complete us, but this wasn't the right place or time. I'd already let my mate down by letting us get captured. I refused to fail her again. "Mate… as much as I want to rip your clothes off and mate you until you feel so good you can't even stay awake, we can't do this right now."

Ravenna clenched her fists as she nodded. "You're right. This isn't a good situation, but these are your kind of people who've taken us. Because I'm just a terrified female, they've been ignoring me." She kissed me as she fisted my hair, then pulled me against her breasts. "Idiots didn't bother to search me."

I heard a click, then something hard and cold slid across the back of my neck. Pressure tightened around my throat until I couldn't breathe. Then it disappeared as the collar fell from my neck. I picked up the broken torture device, speechless at what my mate had done. My beast rolled around inside me, pleased at his freedom and revelled in our mate caring for us.

She flashed the deadly looking knife, then closed it as a smile slid across her lips. "I was a sniper in the service. Never leave home without a weapon."

A chill ran through me. My mate could kick ass and take names, which would make protecting her harder. She probably wouldn't end up as a damsel in distress, which meant we would both end up arguing over who would protect who. "You don't know how hot I find you at this moment, but…" I trailed off as my imagination wandered for a moment, "like you said, these are shifters. I value your wicked skills, but we don't know who these shifters are or their skill level. I'll take the lead."

Her smile warned me.

I held my hand up to cut her off before she started. "I'll make a deal with you, mate. When we get kidnapped by ordinary humans, I'll let you protect me, but when it comes to shifters, you'll default to
me… okay?" The words twisted in my chest. I could see her defiant nature bubbling under the surface, but every instinct in my body demanded I protect my mate.

Ravenna's eyes narrowed on me. I'd just contemplated teasing her to break the mood when we heard a door open and close. Reminded of the severity of our situation put us back on track. "It's a deal, mate."

She'd called me mate. Part of me wanted to leap for joy and announce it to the world, but the intelligent part remembered the situation we were in. "I think I'm already falling in love with you." "You better fucking be. I fell in love with you from afar." Ravenna gently shoved my shoulder with a daring smile.

My focus returning to our surroundings, I realized we were locked in a padded room, like one of those seen frequently on tv at asylums. Easing over to the door, I placed my ear near the crack and shifted myself enough I could use my beast's hearing and smell. Thankfully, the door wasn't airtight. I picked up on three people, but I couldn't place them in the house. After a thorough examination of the door, I couldn't find a single weak spot. With a sigh, I leaned against the wall near the door and stared at my mate, a plan forming in my mind.

"Think you might be a damsel in distress just once?" I hoped she'd play along. "What, you can just break the door down?" She raised one sassy eyebrow at me, and it made me want to claim her right that second.

A shrug rolled off my shoulders. "Prey animals don't have the same strength as predators. We're built to be fast."

"I didn't know shifters existed in such a variety." Ravenna moved until she sat in the direct view of the door. She grabbed the neck of her shirt and pulled, tearing through several inches of it. When she moved to rip out the pocket of her pants and ruffle her hair up, the movements made the shirt reveal the rounded swell of her breasts.

My mouth went dry instantly. I felt my cock wake up as I tried to tell it there was nothing to get excited about. Ravenna winked, then used her biceps to push her breasts together as she leaned forward. I silently cursed her for teasing me at a moment like this. She let out an ear-piercing scream. Even without my shifter hearing, her shrieks made my head throb.

Footsteps pounding down the hallway announced she'd done it well. The moment the door opened, Ravenna scooted backward in a crab position until she slammed against the wall, her arms flying over her face. One male went right over to her while a second stayed in the doorway. I grabbed him, pulling him into the room. A hard punch to the gut, then a kick to the crotch, followed by a knee to the face, sent the man to the floor, sputtering.

Ravenna kicked the male's knee from an angle. I heard a crunch as he screamed and went down, cussing. A third male ran into the room and I grabbed him before he had time to react.

He did the last thing I expected… he dropped to his knees and begged for mercy. "Please don't hurt me. Gods, I told those two they were idiots for taking the two of you, but no, they refused to listen. I'll do anything you want if you spare me."

Ravenna furrowed her eyebrows as she joined me. "Some predators, huh?"

I didn't need to inhale to scent the three males. They were all jackals. As scavengers, they weren't known for their hunting prowess… or their intelligence. "More like scavengers." "Whew, I can hear that disdain in your voice loud and clear." She gestured to the begging male. "Come on mate, put the poor beast out of his misery by telling him we won't kill him… if he tells us everything."

I pulled her in for a quick kiss. "You're sexy when you're out for vengeance."

"I know." She beckoned the male to come with us as we left the padded room. Ravenna locked the two injured males in the room, then shoved the last into a chair. She picked up a collar exactly like the one she'd cut off me and slipped it around the male's neck. I cringed, knowing the pain that came with it. Then she pulled out her knife, opened, then vaguely gestured to her captive's junk. "So, are you going to make me pry the answers I want out of you?"

"Oh hell no. I'll tell you anything you want to know, just get that knife away from me." He tried to scoot the chair back, but it didn't budge. "Someone paid us to grab Foxface over there. You were in the wrong spot. We weren't going to hurt either of you, just needed to keep you locked up for forty-eight hours, then we planned to let you go."

Ravenna glanced at me. "Why forty-eight hours?"

A chill swept through me as pieces started to click together. First the cream curdled, then the threat in the magical lime goo. Nore and I hadn't cancelled the true love luncheon scheduled for tomorrow. Nore didn't much care about the event except for a chance to profit. The witch didn't understand the importance of finding a fated mate. If I didn't show up, then she would cancel everything. Not only that, I'd lose both of my ventures. Nore and I couldn't run our agents in the field if we couldn't get the curse on the cream lifted… and the world's economy was at risk. Someone wanted to destroy either Nore or me, but I wasn't sure which one. The lime goo message seemed to point to Nore as the target, but what would the puppet master gain by ruining the luncheon? "We have to get back to Curses and Cream. I think Nore is in trouble."

My mate looked around the room and found a pair of keys. "Do these go to the van you abducted us in?"

The male nodded. "It's in the back."

"Come on." Ravenna called as she sprinted out of the room.

Damn, if I hadn't been so distracted by the tea and my mate, we wouldn't have been taken. If anything happened to Nore, I wasn't sure I could forgive myself. I followed Ravenna, wanting to make
sure my business partner was okay. But part of me recognized that I'd follow Ravenna anywhere to keep her safe.

Chapter Four

I jumped out of the van and ran into Curses and Cream, unsure of what to find. Nore sat at her table, flipping through her spell book without a sense of urgency.

"I thought you left to claim your mate?" Her tone was dismissive as she didn't bother to look up from her book.

Crossing my arms, I leaned against the wall. As business partners, we got along… sometimes. Our personalities didn't always lend to smooth sailing, but our individual skills made a perfect business venture. Today would be rocky to say the least.

Ravenna stepped into the room, her guard up. I shrugged back at her. Ravenna shook her head and went back into the shop portion of the building. I appreciated her giving us space. "I started to, but someone kidnapped us. From what they told us, we thought you were a target." Nore laughed. "You're a bit late to the party if that's the case. Strangers have already tried to kill me."

"Are you okay?" I inhaled deep, scenting what smelled like two males in the room. While I'd run through the building, I'd looked for signs of a struggle, but not a single jar was out of place. Even the tea Ravenna and I tasted earlier had been cleaned up.

Nore sighed as she slapped her hands down on the book, turning her head to glare at me. "I know it's hard for you to believe, but I've been protecting myself since before you were a pup under your mother's wing. So why don't you go home with your mate and leave me alone. I'll call if I need you, unless you're volunteering to be milked as an alternative activator cream source." Her irises flashed red for a millisecond. It was so quick I wasn't even sure if I'd really seen it.

When I started to respond, she flicked her fingers at me. My body slid out of the room, then out of the shop. Ravenna let out a startled shriek as Nore's magick also pushed her out of the shop. When we were on the sidewalk, the door slammed shut and I heard the locks slide into place. "What the fuck just happened?" Ravenna turned on me.

I shook my head. "Nore insists she's fine, can protect herself, and is determined to be left alone right now."

"No, I get that. I overheard your conversation. How the hell did we get out here? I didn't even move my feet."

My gaze searched her face as I tried to understand her. "You know about shifters but not witches?"

"Like real witches with crazy magical powers, not wiccans trying to be with nature?" I nodded. "No, I didn't know they were real."

I guided her back to my apartment while I explained about witches and general paranormal creatures. Once inside, I grabbed her a green apple soda and fufu berry for myself. Probably more masculine to drink a beer, but I wasn't in the mood for that. She took the bright green liquid in the bottle and twisted the cap open. She laughed and flashed it at me. 'A new chapter in your life is being written'.

I laughed. "It's not wrong." I repeated her actions. 'Prepare for zombies'. "Well, that's about fifty percent accurate."

Ravenna smiled, then slid further away from me on the overstuffed, black microfiber couch. She took a drink; her gaze darting toward me and away.

"I don't understand how you seem to know so much about shifters, but not about anything else." I noted the space she created, but stayed where I was.

Ravenna picked at the label of her bottle as she grunted. "I guess it's not fair to keep secrets between mates. Besides, if or when we mate all the way, you'll know what I'm hiding anyway." My stomach dropped. Who had the gods given me as a mate? Sure, everyone had secrets, but they didn't usually come with this kind of a warning. "I told you I was a sniper in the military, but what I didn't say was that my spotter was a shifter… actually my entire team was."

Okay, maybe the beer would have been a better idea. I set the bottle down on a coaster and gave my full attention to my mate.

After another drink, Ravenna cleared her throat. "Despite my skills and achievements, the human military refused to put me in an active sniper role. Someone in the shifter division of the military heard about me and gave me an offer I couldn't refuse. The position I wanted, a spotter and team stronger than anything I would have had, plus a shit ton more money. I signed an NDA larger than that fruit basket on your counter. Years passed, and it was everything I'd dreamed of." She polished off the drink and set it on the table as she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Then my boss and the leader of our team died in action. That male… he was the sweetest, most protective man I'd ever met. I'd stopped thinking of him as a wolfman, he became another person to me. So did all the other shifters on the team. Hell, I got hurt one time. Impossible for me to walk. Jakob shifted into his horse form and my team put me on his back. They made sure I got home and cared for. But that assface threw a fit, and blamed me for the entire thing. Within a few days, I was ordered to appear and they told me I could sign my hoNoreble discharge papers right then and walk away forever with a check for the entire salary sum originally offered, or if I stayed, they'd throw me in shifter jail and try me before the council for dereliction of duty and murder charges."

I jumped off the couch and paced the length of my living room. Her pain from the memories seeped through our fledgling mating bond. I wanted to destroy the idiot who'd forced her out, but if she hadn't come to Witch's Cove, I'd probably never had met her.

"There's no point stewing over the past. What's done is done. Nothing can change that." I glanced at Ravenna, knowing I could change her future with one phone call… If we got the tea activator to work. Warring with myself over the decision, I promised myself I wouldn't be overprotective this time. Focusing on my mate, I knelt in front of her. "It's been hours since we drank the tea. How are you feeling?"

She slid back on the couch as far as she could. "It hasn't changed one bit. I don't understand why the tea isn't wearing off."

I leaned back on my heels, giving her a bit of space. What if the tea did more than temporarily block the curse? "I have a theory about that."

"Is it one you can explain while we ease some of these urges, because if not, I'm going to need you to back up. It's much worse when we're close to each other and not in a life-threatening situation… Which was weird. The moment they kidnapped us, it turned into this all possessive need to protect you. Which I get it, you are a civ and I don't know if or what skills you have, but it was deeper than that." She trailed off as she clasped her hands together, her knuckles turning white from her grip. "I know it will sound crazy, but it felt like part of me would die if anything happened to you."

Running a finger over the bridge of my nose, I nodded. "Yeah, so that supports my theory. So you know about shifters, but what about fated mates?" She didn't respond, instead she gazed at me intently. I felt the bond call for us to mate, but pushed it back. "Okay, shifters have two choices. We can claim and mate anyone, which a lot of us choose to do since female shifters are rare. For a miniscule few males, we'll find our fated mates. The one female the gods destined for us, and when we get near each other, there is this… overwhelming need to claim each other. Except, the moment we do, there's no going back. There's a whole thing that goes along with it, but they're bound for life to each other."

"How do you know you'll even like each other? It seems like a fairytale with the potential to go very badly."

I shrugged. "We don't. Sometimes it takes a while to work out the relationship dynamic, but most don't believe our gods would be so cruel to force two souls together that don't belong." Ravenna remained quiet, her fingers fidgeting. She opened her mouth, sighed, then closed it again. I was on the verge of telling her to say what was on her mind when she finally spoke. "If I follow you correctly, one of two things happened. We are and have been fated mates, but didn't feel it until we drank the tea, or the tea did something to make us like this."

I nodded. "We were always fated mates. When the universe was first created by the gods, our souls were next to each other and the gods blessed us to find each other again in this life. Nore enchanted the tea to block the curse on our town temporarily. I think it blocked the curse for both of
us permanently, which explains why it hasn't worn off yet. It would explain why you felt your attention drawn to me in a muted version of what you feel now."

My mate crumpled in on herself. "This urgent need I feel for you will never go away?" My heart dropped at her words. "If we don't mate, it will get a little better with lots of distance, or if we finish the mating ritual and bond ourselves to each other, it will become more tolerable. Either way, it will never go back to how it was before you drank the tea."

"How do you feel about all this?"

I stood, moving to lean against the breakfast bar separating the living room from the kitchen. "I'm the one who convinced Nore to make the tea, and I'm running the True Love Tea Luncheon tomorrow."

"In other words, you wanted this. That makes sense." Ravenna hugged herself. "Not only do I want this, I want you. Yes, I'd want whoever my fated mate turned out to be, but I want you even more now that I know who you really are." She tried to interrupt, but I refused. I felt her self-doubt rippling through our mate bond. "You're honorable, giving up part of yourself to protect the lives of people you've never met. Then you wanted to protect me, a male you didn't know when we were taken. I see the real you, and that makes you so fucking hot." Ravenna shook her head.

I growled deep in my chest as I pushed my own protective need through the bond to her. "You can't hide yourself from me."

Her eyes widened. "That's you… I've been feeling these wisps of emotion, but I didn't know why. Right now, I feel frustrated when I have none of my own."

"Because you're discrediting yourself. Sure, I wanted my fated mate, but I want you as my mate even more."

Ravenna stood, her movements intentional and without hesitation as she leaned against me. "Then what are you waiting for?"

"You need to know everything before you accept this. Because if you change your mind before the ritual is up, things can't go back to how they were before."

Ravenna pulled me down to her, then pressed her forehead against mine, "then tell me everything so I can drag you down on the floor and have my wicked way with you."

Chapter Five

Ravenna wrapped my arms around her waist as she leaned up on the balls of her feet to give me a tender kiss. "Three days, huh? If we make love right now, that will start the countdown, right?" I nodded to confirm. "But if we mated several times, only the first one today would count, so we'd need to lock ourselves in your apartment for tonight, tomorrow, then morning nookie on the third day."

I nipped her bottom lip. "We don't have to wait that long. A minute after midnight counts too." "Hmmm, I've never had marathon sex before." My mate leaned against my body, her curves molding to my lean muscle.

"It doesn't have to be non-stop. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to make you scream my name so many times in the next two and a half days that you lose your voice, but the mating ritual requires once a day for three days out of a lunar cycle. We have thirty days to complete it, but no male I know wants to take the risk of not completing the ritual in time."

Every shifter male grew up with warnings about fated mates. Whether they believed in them was an entirely different thing. Some shifters thought it was a fable told to younglings to make them behave, nothing more. I'd never known for sure, but a part of me insisted it was true. Then, when I'd found signs of the curse placed on our town to prevent fated mates from being able to recognize each other, I had confirmed the legend.

"I'll go with option one there, fuzz ball." Ravenna's eyebrows furrowed. "Wait, did I hear correctly when Nore threatened to milk you?"

I groaned as horror washed over me. Of course she'd heard that. Wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole, I told myself I couldn't lie to my mate. She'd feel my dishonesty with how close she was to me.

"If it's some weird spell-"

A shake of my head cut off her words. "There are numerous kinds of shifters in this world. In the sexy predator category are the bears, wolves, big cats, and etcetera. Then you have the benign cute shifters like rabbits, domesticated house pets, hedgehogs, and so on." I tried to stall, but the intriguing look on my mate's face forced the truth out of me. "Then you have the weird ones like me… bats. Except, I'm a freak even among my bat kin. Some dumbass scientist got drunk one night and discovered male Dayak fruit bats sometimes lactate. Now Nore makes lactation jokes at my expense all the time."

Ravenna's muscles tensed. She stood there, gaze locked on my own as I begged for a quick death. My ego couldn't take my fated mate laughing in my face until she couldn't breathe. "I'm feeling a lot of emotions from you right now, most of which tell me this wasn't easy for you to share. We can't
help the bodies or the lives we're born to, only the company we choose to keep. I hope Nore is enough of a friend that you're okay with her teasing, but I'd never reject you for your beast." A shy smile crossed her lips. "Can I see him?"

My thoughts skipped as I tried to process her words. She didn't care that I was a bat, not to mention one weird evolutionary quirk. Plus, she wanted to see my animal form. I got so caught up in my own mind that I forgot to answer her.

"You don't have to show me."

I didn't wait to answer, just spun us around so Ravenna was braced against the counter instead of me, then released the hold I kept on my beast. My body shrank as I jumped until the full one hundred grams of my weight floated in the air on my bat wings.

Ravenna covered her mouth with one hand while the other reached for me. I flipped in the air, my claws sinking into her shirt sleeve. Relaxing into a comfortable hang, I watched my mate's reaction. She held her arm up in front of her face while she gazed at me wide eyed. "You're tiny. I don't know why, but when you said bat, I was thinking megabat… you know, like those huge flying foxes that are almost as big as people."

"I bet the world looks a lot different from this perspective." Silence drug out between us as she ran her finger over my body, taking a moment to play with my wing webs."Ha, I forgot you can't actually respond to me. That's okay, you're so cute, I don't mind."

After a chirp, I let go of her sleeve, and shifted back into human form. Usually, I was thankful my clothes magically disappeared and returned with my human form, but this time I wished I'd appeared naked. Would have been convenient when Ravenna jumped on me. Her legs wrapped around my waist as her lips devoured mine. While her hands roamed my body, I set her on the edge of the breakfast bar.

"I want you and everything that comes with you." Ravenna kissed me, and the passion stole my breath. "I always thought I'd die alone. Between my past and independent nature, men usually stomp off while groaning about women having too many opinions."

I nuzzled her neck. "I'll never do that to you, or any other female. Even at our worst, during a hardship I hope we never have, I'll never disrespect you. You're my fated mate… I can't live knowing I hurt you."

Ravenna pulled my shirt off and threw it on the floor. "I need you… to claim you." A grin slid over my lips. "As much as I want to spread your legs and lick your pussy until you've come so many times, your voice is hoarse, this is all you. You claimed me first, which means everything we do is with your initiation." Her fingers grasped for my belt. "But, I will warn you. Any pleasure you give me, will be returned to you threefold, because the moment today's ritual is complete, I won't stop pleasuring you until you beg."

She pushed me back, then hopped off the bar. With a quick flick of her wrist, she opened my pants and they fell to the floor. "Sit on the couch, mate."

Without breaking eye contact, I walked backward until I dropped onto the couch. Ravenna kicked my discarded clothing out of her way, then sauntered toward me as she playfully stripped her own clothes off. My mouth went dry at the sight of her. Her moves entranced me, consuming every ounce of my attention. When she sank between my knees, I almost swallowed my tongue. Her hand wrapped around my cock, gently pumping my length. She licked her lips. I groaned.

Ravenna glanced up at me with such passion, it almost broke my restraint. Her head dipped down, taking me into her mouth. The world shattered around us. Nothing else mattered right now. As her head bobbed, one of my hands slid into her hair. Not to control her movements, but feeling her move under my hand somehow accentuated the pleasure I felt.

When my head fell back, Ravenna pulled back, her mouth making a popping noise as she broke the suction. She straddled my hips. "Zagan, you're my mate. Mine."

Then she impaled herself on my cock. The declaration branded my soul, just as much as the mating bond did. Her hips rocked. I grasped her hips as I met her thrust for thrust. "I'm your mate as much as you're mine."

Ravenna leaned forward, her hand cupping the back of my neck and pulling me against her for the hottest kiss of my life. Gripping her tighter, I pounded into her, needing to feel the mating bond strengthen. I wanted her forever.

"Mine." Ravenna hissed into my mouth as she bucked her hips.

I nipped her lip. "Mine." I growled deep in my chest. My fingers slipped between us until my thumb found her clit. I circled the nub with my thumb, settling into a pace that matched our thrusts. My mate bit her lip as her eyes fluttered. "And you actually know how to find and play with my doorbell. I swear, you're like a dream come true."

"Just wait until it's my turn to claim you." My fingers sank into her hair, and I gently tugged her head back to nip at her neck.

Her hips ground against me as she moaned in a breathy voice, "hell yeah."

"Then come for me, and I'll give you a taste of what's in store for you." Ravenna shattered in my arms. Her screams of pleasure were followed by waves of blissful satisfaction through our strengthening mating bond. When her walls clenched around me, gripping me tight, I growled as I rode out my orgasm. Thrusting a few more times, I coaxed out every shudder I could. My mate collapsed against me. With my hand still in her hair, I cradled her close. "We probably should have talked about sexual boundaries beforehand."

"Probably, but I enjoyed everything we did. No complaints whatsoever." Ravenna chuckled. "I will say that I like to describe myself as vanilla kink friendly."

"Vanilla kink?"

"Basically a little bit of most things, but in the most mild form. You want to pin my hands with yours, sign me up, however, I'm no rope bunny. A little playful spanking here and there, or soft biting, hot." She nuzzled into my chest.

I kissed her forehead. "We'll definitely have to discuss that a bit more, but I'm not done with you right now." Ravenna whimpered as I lifted her into my arms. "We have several hours until midnight, and I intend to keep you busy until then."

Chapter Six

Frenzied pounding on my door yanked me out of bed from a deep sleep. We'd made love all night, then completed the second part of the mating ritual this morning before we both passed out from sated exhaustion. Ravenna's eyelids popped open, and within a fraction of a second, she was on her feet behind me. We pulled clothes on while silently moving toward the door. Ravenna took a position behind the front door while I peered through the peephole.

Three burly shifters stood on the other side. Not only were they all predator shifters, they appeared furious. While I usually enjoyed my supernaturally enhanced apartment building, none of my neighbors would hear the commotion and come to investigate, possibly bearing witness to or deterring what these three males had come for. Nope, that was all up to me… and my badass mate.

"Zagan! I can smell you on the other side of this door. If you don't let us in, we'll have to do something drastic."

The male's voice niggled at something in my brain. I knew that male, but I couldn't quite place him at the moment. The familiarity gave me the feeling of urgency on the male's part, and I knew instinctively the group wouldn't hurt me. "If you want to talk to me, you'll have to stop pounding on my door. Instead, pretend like you want to talk to me, not murder me."

"Then open the goddamn door!" He shouted, but the pounding stopped.

With one more look through the small glass circle, I finally remembered the males. They all worked for Nore and I, through our agency of skilled shifters for hire. "Thorne, how the hell did you find my home?"

"Let us in before Bo busts your door down." Thorne punctuated his threat with a kick to the door. Ravenna moved until her lips brushed my ear. "It's okay, you can let them in. I might be human, but I know how to handle shifters if it gets ugly. One of the perks of my old job." I watched her as she returned to her spot behind the door. When I hesitated, she waved a hand at me to do it. I pushed my brain to find a better solution, but I couldn't. My beast pushed at me, wanting to take over, but the thought of a tiny bat trying to take on a bear, wolf, and dragon shifter was beyond laughable. One breath of fire from the dragon and I was a crispy critter, or my bones could double as toothpicks for the predators.

With a warning glance at my mate, I opened the door. Thorne barged in first, then Bo and a third shifter I couldn't remember the name of. Bo raised an eyebrow at me, then dropped onto my couch. His nostrils flared. Instantly, I knew he'd scented I'd been Ravenna all over the apartment, and the couch.

Thorne checked out Ravenna, but she barely glanced at him. Instead, she was watching the third shifter I didn't remember as he casually scouted the main area of my apartment.

"Who's the female?" Thorne gestured as he stepped closer to her. I wanted to snatch him away from her and throw him out… all of them, but that wouldn't help the tense situation. He shouldn't be that close to her. Most males avoided nearing a claimed female, even if the mating ritual wasn't complete.

Sudden realization crashed into me. They couldn't tell Ravenna was my mate. I knew the curse prevented anyone from or visiting our town from recognizing their own mate, regardless of how far away they went. From what we could tell, it never wore off either. Nore originally required new shifters to the team to come by Curses and Cream for magical tea testing, but that ended right after we learned the curse attached to shifters who visited. She'd placed powerful wards around the town to prevent team members from showing up. Which meant the three males were now cursed. It also meant they couldn't recognize their own mates, or the mates of others.

I grabbed Thorne by his shirt and slammed him against the wall. "How did you fucking get here? I know it's a simple question, but you've just fucked up your own lives more than you realized." That seemed to get their attention. Thorne glared at me, but didn't pull out of my grip. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Witch Cove is cursed. By showing up here, you've doomed yourselves to the same mateless fate as every other shifter who's ever crossed the town's boundary." The pissy look on Thorne's face disappeared, replaced by a forlorn hopelessness. "Which is why we put powerful wards around the town to keep shifters away. You three shouldn't have been able to overcome them. So I reiterate, how in the hell did you get here?"

Thorne glanced at his companions, then returned his attention to me. "We drove, but I didn't feel a thing when I crossed into town. We used the main roads. What were these wards supposed to do exactly?"

"Cause excruciating and debilitating pain until you turned around." I shook my head, trying to figure it out. "Shifters already affected by the curse can pass through the wards since we have nothing else to lose by coming back."

Ravenna spoke up. "Sounds like the wards aren't working, or the curse has spread." Bo called out from the couch. "You never answered who the female is."

I snarled at the shifter, "she's my fucking mate. I've been working with Nore to remove or circumvent the curse. It worked, but it was an accident. I'd planned to hold an event this afternoon to see if I could recreate the results, but so far, it's temporary and requires your fated mate to be at the event too."

"Then we're fucking going. I wasn't actively looking for my mate, but I refuse to lose the possibility of her because you're an asshole." Thorne shoved at my chest.

I let go of him, putting myself between the males and my mate. "How am I the asshole when you showed up here, which violates a direct order?"

"Because you should have told us about the curse!" Bo shouted. He stood, crossing his arms while glaring at me.

"Look, all three of you had direct orders to shelter near your assignments until we got things sorted. We made it very clear to never come to headquarters at every point in the onboarding process." I paused as I reined in my frustration. "As entertaining as it is to argue with you, I don't have time. Something has gone horribly wrong, and I have to sort it out. So you have to make a choice… stand here and be petty, or come and help us fix this."

The three of them looked at each other for a long time, before Thorne spoke up for them. "We're going. You might be an asshole of a boss, but you're still our boss. Besides, we need to get supplies to the others in the field. It's bad out there right now."

I cringed. "I know, but Nore's the one who has to fix the cream."

"I'm going with you." Ravenna put her hand on my shoulder.

"I wouldn't expect anything else from you, mate."

"No way. If she's a mate, she needs to stay here, where she'll be safe." Bo charged toward us. Before I could protest, Ravenna beat me to it. "Fuck that shit. I'm not a damsel." She stepped around me, glaring at Bo directly. "What do you do for Zagan?"

Bo rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter what I do. You're a female, Zagan's mate, you must be protected."

I pinched the bridge of my nose as I felt my mate's anger roll… then a thread of challenge slid through. Bo was about to have an eye-opening experience. I pushed my own feelings of encouragement and pride for Ravenna to her. She chuckled before her muscles visibly relaxed. "Humor this little female."

Bo gave me an exasperated look. I shrugged. "If this is how you want to waste time, I'll indulge you this one time." He puffed out his chest as he crossed his arms. "I'm an infiltration specialist." Ravenna nodded her head a few times. "That explains it."

"What does?"

"Well, if we were working together, you'd be fucking things up, and I'd be cleaning up after you, then expected to save your ass."

Thorne hissed, and the third guy stepped backward. Bo charged at Ravenna. I slid to the side, to avoid being squished when she put Bo in his place. When he was close enough, Ravenna grabbed him, using his weight and momentum to launch him over her shoulder. She hit him twice, then rolled him onto his chest. I heard a series of clicks. Bo snarled, but he didn't budge as Ravenna dug her knee into his back. Bo couldn't grab her since she'd zip tied his wrists.

"Let go of me!" Bo shouted.

Ravenna leaned down, but she didn't lower her voice as she spoke into his ear. "Never piss off your spotter or sniper. They might just decide to take you out after the target." Then she stepped off him.

"Remind me to never piss you off." I said with a smile. "Where did you get the zip tie?" "I always carry some. Oh, and they're impossible for a shifter to break, or remove. As one of the few humans on the team, it was one hell of an advantage for me. One benny of working for the shifter division of the military is that they have all the fun toys."

Thorne backed away. "Shit boss, I don't fear you, but that female. Oh, hell no. And where did she have that zip tie, anyway? Nope. Better be careful, or next thing you know she'll use those things on you."

"Dammit Zagan, make her take this off." Bo pulled at the ties, but they didn't budge. I held up my hands. "Did you miss what she just did? The last thing I'm going to do is demand my mate do anything. Sorry Bo, but I think you're on your own this time." With a wink at Ravenna, I moved back.

She grinned as she toed his shoulder. "If you apologize, I might let you go."

Bo thrashed around until his breathing grew labored. "Fuck you Zagan."

"Maybe stop offending the one person in the room who can kick your ass." I laughed. "Anyway, we have to leave soon, so are you going to apologize to my mate, or will we see you in a few hours?" Bo roared as he made one last attempt to break free, unsuccessfully. Thorne and the third shifter didn't make a peep while we waited. "Fine. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings."

Ravenna squatted near Bo's face. "Oh, you didn't hurt my feelings. You're just a sexist asshole and I was the perfect woman to bring that to your attention."

He snarled again. "I'm not sexist! Females are rare, therefore we must protect them." "And in general, that may be the case. But don't apply that thinking to all women. Thankfully, Zagan realized it doesn't apply to me, and as much as I can feel his beast rolling around in protest every single time I do it, Zagan respects my wishes. Who knows, your fated mate might love a protective, domineering, alphahole… in which case you'd be perfect for each other, but my gut feeling - the same one that tells me not to pull the trigger just yet - is telling me you're going to end up with a female just like me. Consider this practice since you'll need to learn how to apologize to her."

A tick appeared in Bo's jaw as he wrestled with himself. "I'm sorry I made an incorrect assumption about you."

Ravenna ruffled his hair. "That's probably the best I'm going to get, so I'll accept it. Besides, we might need you for what we're about to do. Consider this your one and only warning though." She released him and joined me. "They're reusable." With the zip tie held up, she winked at me.

"Is that a threat or a promise, mate?" The idea intrigued me as I felt blood flow to a certain body part.

"Whichever you want it to be."

Chapter Seven

"So, is your ferocious little mate going to join our ranks as a sniper, or did you have something else in mind?" Thorne's easy question slammed into me.

Ravenna spun on me, her glare full of fury. "You weren't going to tell me, were you? You have the ability to give the thing I want most, and you weren't going to say a fucking word." The three males around us zipped their lips and backed up silently. I didn't blame them; I didn't want to draw my mate's ire right now either. "Mate-"

"No, don't do that. There's nothing I detest more than a man thinking he has to calm the hysterical woman down. Just because I'm mad that you did something wrong doesn't make me the crazy one." Ravenna cut herself off before she said anything else, then snarled as she walked a few feet away with her hand up in the air. She took a deep breath, counted backward from ten, then inhaled deep. When she turned around, she looked more composed, but still furious. "I'm sorry I overreacted. My last boyfriend was toxic and played mind games. It didn't help after everything I went through in the service before they forced me out. It's amazing how quickly a narcissist can convince someone and everyone around them that a person is crazy."

"Can you all give us a moment alone?"

Thorne shook his head. "Yeah, I don't think so. I need to witness this because I need to see how you dig yourself out of this one, and then forever hold it against you when your mate is too enthralled by your mate bond."

Ravenna laughed. "They can stay. Once we get this curse reversed, he'll need to know how to beg forgiveness from his mate because we both know he'll fuck up more than you do Zagan." "Hey!" Thorne started toward her, but realized how quickly she could kick his ass. When I moved closer to her, Ravenna put her hand up. "Use your words to ask for forgiveness instead of your body to distract me. There's no question whatsoever that I'm attracted to you. It's your attitude I have a problem with."

I sighed at her cleverness. Fighting with myself to find the right thing to say, I gave up and said what I was feeling. "I know you want that life back, and a part of me wants to do everything I can to make you happy. If I could, I'd send you on every mission you wanted. Except I'd lose my fucking mind. You're a strong, independent female… one who can take me in a fight any day. I get that, but the primal part of me refuses to put you in harm's way. It's one thing to deal with a dangerous situation we're already in. It's completely different to send you into an active assignment."

Ravenna crossed her arms, hugging herself. "Were you ever going to tell me if loudmouth hadn't spoken up?"

"I honestly don't know. I thought about it last night, but every time I almost said the words, I couldn't bring myself to do it." I pinched my nose. "I'm pretty sure I would have told you eventually, but it would have been a few months… maybe a year. Look, I just found you. A mate I thought I'd never find because of this goddamn curse on our town. Can you really blame me for wanting to keep you to myself for a while before throwing you into danger?"

Ravenna came closer, but didn't touch me. Her body tension relaxed. "So you're saying you didn't tell me for selfish reasons?"

I ran a hand through my hair. "As much as I hate how it sounds… yeah, I guess so." My mate glared at me for a long time before she spoke. "I'm still pissed at you, but I'll forgive you. Omitting the truth is just as dangerous as a lie. Don't do it again." Ravenna kissed my cheek, then put distance between us. "Come on, let's go see if we can fuck someone else's day up." ***

We arrived at Curses and Cream, but something felt wrong. Dread washed over our entire group, pushing us away from the building. Powering through it, we stormed into the storefront. Colorful lights flashed through the doorway to Nore's spell room, causing eerie shadows to stretch along the walls.

"Mate, I don't think your luncheon is going to happen."

I agreed with her. Ducking behind the sales counter, I grabbed an emergency witch kit. It was something Nore had required we have in the shop, in case an enemy witch decided to make a move on her and there were innocents in the vicinity. I'd never imagined I'd have to use it on Nore… still hoped I didn't.

Quickly, I returned to Ravenna, and handed her a self defense charm. "Don't let go of this, it will protect you. This is beyond shifters. Witches are a whole different world with an entirely different set of skills."

"Thank you." Ravenna tucked it into her clothing. "What about the tea we drank yesterday, can we use something like that, but for fighting?"

I faced the doorway. "Unfortunately not. She only made enough to test, and the teas available in this area of the building are novelty teas. We have to go in as we are. This is going to suck." With my own personal protection charm, I headed through the doorway. Nore stood over her spell book, enchanting inscribed stones. They glowed red, with a bright pulsing light. Every surface in the room was covered with the glowing stones. My ears pricked at the words, picking up just enough to realize she was strengthening the anti-mating curse.

"Nore, what are you doing?" I'd raised my voice to say it over her chant, but she didn't seem to notice me.

Had she always been the witch behind the curse? I dismissed the thought. I'd seen the cucumber-lime slime ball message. It would have taken a lot of effort to fake the threat I'd seen. Besides, Nore wasn't one to explode slime all over her own shop… or threaten her biggest income source.

I approached her while shouting her name. It wasn't until I disturbed one of the rocks that she noticed me. Her head snapped in my direction, her eyes filled with a bright green light. She didn't look like herself. Thinking back to yesterday, she hadn't acted like herself either. Yeah, she was usually so confident in herself it was annoying, if not suffocating, but she'd never been like yesterday before. Not to me anyway. If I didn't know better, I'd think someone had possessed her… like the slimeball witch who cast the curse and needed Nore's strength to push it further than Witch Cove.

"Leave. Now." Nore screeched as she returned to her enchantment.

Carefully backing out of the room, I made sure not to disturb any of the rocks. She appeared to be consumed with her spell. Once through the doorway, I gathered the rest of our little group in the spare room in the back. "Well, that didn't work. Let's cross off having a reasonable conversation with Nore and asking for her help."

"What's going on?" Thorne asked, but it was clear everyone was curious.

I rubbed my forehead. "Best guess? The witch that ruined the activator cream and cast the curse somehow possessed Nore and is using her to expand it… a lot."

Bo grumbled as he plopped on the bed. "This is bad."

"Uh, yeah. There's a lot to lose." Thorne chimed in.

Silence stretched out, letting the echoes of Nore's chanting weigh on us.

Ravenna tapped her chin. "How do we neutralize a witch?"

All four gazes landed on me. "I don't remember anything in the kit."

Ravenna pulled a cell phone out of her pocket. She tapped the screen a few times then held it up to her ear. "Hey Bones, do you know anything about neutralizing witches?" She stayed silent for a while with the four of us eagerly watching her. "Thanks, I owe you one. Oh yeah? Say hi for me. I can't wait to meet her." Ravenna put her phone away. Then she looked up at us and crossed her arms. "Don't suppose you know where several pounds of salt and a giant obsidian crystal are lying around, do you Zagan?"

"Uhhh, I'm sure there's plenty of salt in the cellar. We use it for a few things. There's bound to be obsidian, but it will be in Nore's spell room, and I have no idea how large it might be." My brain kicked into gear as I tried to solve the problem. "Bo, you'll go into Nore's spell room and find as much obsidian as you can. Her crystals are on the left, nearly at the opposite wall. Then bring it back here without drawing her attention. Make sure you don't touch any of the glowing rocks. Thorne and… what is your name?"

"Keven."

"Okay, Thorne and Keven, you'll go down to the cellar and grab the salt."

Ravenna took over directing them. "When you get the salt, you need to completely encircle the entire outside of the building, with as thick of a line as you can consistently manage. It's imperative there are no breaks in the salt. Bring the leftover salt in here, we'll need a little bit."

Thorne and Keven took off. Bo nodded at me, tipping an imaginary hat rim. I gave him my protection charm. Without hesitating, he walked into the room where Nore chanted. Ravenna gripped my shirt and pulled me in for a kiss. She rolled onto the tips of her toes to deepen the kiss. I wrapped one arm around her while the other cupped the back of her head. I'd never get enough of this female. Mine. My mate.

Ravenna broke the kiss, but pressed her forehead against mine. "I love you mate." Then she let go of me and walked into the storefront.

I followed her, watching as she grabbed jars of novelty teas. After piling them on the counter, she grabbed a few more items for sale and added them to the pile. She grabbed a bowl and started throwing handfuls of tea into it. "Is there a coffee grinder here?"

"Coffee? You want… Oh, I get it now." I rushed over to the small living area in the back. I'd remembered seeing one, but wasn't sure it was still there. I threw cabinet doors open, frantically searching. Bo stumbled into the room, his chest slashed open like a bear had swiped a paw across his chest. "Fuck."

Bo shook his head, waving me off. "I'll be fine. Take this to your mate." He dropped a few small stones into my hand.

Gripping them tight, I finally found the coffee grinder. "Thank you. I won't forget this." "Like I'll let you." Bo groaned as he dropped onto the couch. "Now help your mate save the world."

Returning to her side, I handed over the coffee grinder and the obsidian from Bo. She got to work grinding them. When she reached for the lid, she motioned for me to cover my nose and mouth. With her other hand, she pulled her sleeve down and protected her own face. I heard her quietly chanting something through the material. Then she popped open the lid and dumped the fine powder into the bowl with the tea.

Keven and Thorne showed up, with a cup of salt. She added it to her concoction with a few drops of an unlabeled liquid. While still chanting, she used some kind of a stick to stir the mixture in a clockwise direction.

"Okay, if Bones was correct, we need to dump or throw this on Nore. It should be enough to break the possession spell on her. I hope." Ravenna appeared calm, but her eyes were burning with worry. I took the bowl from her. "If anyone should go, it's me. I know her best."

"Please be careful."

I gave her a quick kiss. Then I went to confront Nore. Sounds of Keven, Thorne, and Ravenna following me were easy to hear because it didn't sound like Nore was chanting anymore. Peeking my head through the doorway confirmed it. She stood with her hand on her spell book, the glowing rocks giving the room an eerie, evil glow. I made it halfway to her before her gaze snapped to me.

"You bother me for the last time, vermin!" Nore started a chant as her body glowed red with rippling magic. She levitated in the air as her hair whipped around her face. Her fingers curled as her words grew loud and full of biting venom.

Keven darted between us with a battle cry, lunging for the witch. The build up of energy around her launched at me in the same moment, releasing with a shock wave through the room. Nore's magick engulfed Keven, wrapping around his body in a bright red light before he disappeared. Nore screamed. I didn't hesitate, and threw the mixture in the bowl at her.

She dropped to the ground, falling to her hands and knees. All the swirling energy around us dissipated as Nore groaned, then crumpled to the ground. I knelt next to her, checking her pulse. I wasn't sure exactly how the spell had neutralized her, but at least she was still alive. I didn't want her harmed.

"Where's Keven?"

I shook my head. "I have no idea. Nore will have a lot to explain when she wakes up."

Chapter Eight

Nore moaned as she stirred. I leaned out of the doorway to her small back room and waved until I caught everyone's attention. Thorne and Bo rushed over, while Ravenna followed at a normal pace. They took up spots through the room as I returned to the chair at Nore's bedside. We'd taken turns watching her since she collapsed six hours ago.

"What happened?" Nore pressed her hand to her forehead. "I feel like my brain is about to burst through my skull."

I handed her a bottle of water. "No clue. We were hoping you'd shed some light on the curse, the missing wards, and your new glowing rock collection."

"And Keven!" Thorne added.

Nore shot up in the bed, then heaved. Ravenna grabbed a small trash can from the corner and handed it to Nore, but she waved it away. "Thanks, but no thanks. I can't remember the last time I ate, so I don't figure there's anything in there to come up." She pushed herself to her feet. When she swayed, I steaded her, then stabilized her as she stumbled into her work room. "Fuck." Nore snarled as she dropped into a chair and grabbed her head. "That fucking bitch!"

"Care to explain what's going on?"

Nore ignored my question as she shoved some potions out of the way. When she found the one she was looking for, she pulled the stopper and took a shot of the yellow liquid. "The witch who cursed Witch Cove and tampered with our activator cream. She did this."

I waited for her to explain, but she didn't. Instead, she heaved herself out of the chair and started throwing ingredient jars on the floor. Glass shattered as it landed on the now non-glowing rocks. While keeping my distance, I skirted the room, making sure she didn't hit me with anything. "Is that necessary?"

"Everything in the building is tainted with her essence. I can save nothing but my grimoire and spell books. Even if she hadn't, your little salt bomb ruined the efficiency of every ingredient in the room."

A twinge of guilt slid through me at ruining her supplies, but if they were ruined anyway, I wouldn't let it bother me too much. It was worth it to get her back. When she was done, there were gemstones, flowers, powders, and other things I couldn't begin to identify strewn all over her work room. Nore hunched over a shelf, eerily still.

"I'm going to kill that witch." She spun with a furious scowl on her face. A small black back dangled from her hand. "A hex bag… which means the witch is close enough to leave it herself, or has a familiar. Though, she seems to have an obsession with the town, so I'm going to guess she is local."

Thorne coughed loudly, like he was trying to catch Nore's attention. Her glare locked on him, but her eyes softened a fraction. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Hardly, but it's nothing that can't be replaced." She waved her hand, gesturing at the mess. "Unfortunately, I'm unable to use magick to clean this up, so if you'd all be willing to help, I'd appreciate it."

"Except for Keven." Bo grumbled.

"What?" Nore frowned as she looked us over. "Wait, when did you all get here? Last thing I remember were the two of you trying to mate right on my store floor."

Ravenna shrugged, then leaned against the door frame. Thorne frowned as he spoke up. "You don't remember trying to kill all of us this morning?"

Nore shook her head. "I don't remember anything. You and Bo shouldn't be here-" "Yeah, the wards and the curse. I covered that with Zagan already." Thorne patted Nore's shoulder. "Something's wrong with them, and our working theory is that the curse is expanding. Or at least it was."

Nore's eyes widened. Then she pulled Thorne against her in a tight hug. "I'm so sorry. I'll find a way to fix this." They held each other for several minutes. I glanced at Ravenna and Bo, but they looked as shocked as I felt. "I'll make sure you find your mate some day. You deserve to find her more than anyone I know."

Thorne sighed. "I'm not convinced I'll find someone better."

"I've already tested us. If the gods fated us to be together, we would have felt it." Nore stepped out of Thorne's arms. "I swear, I'll fix this and help you find your mate… your true mate." Curiosity burned through me as I held back a million questions. How had they met each other, how long have they been together, and why didn't they tell me?

"I don't remember Keven. What happened?"

I recounted the events of the last two days. Including how Keven had jumped in the way of the spell she'd cast at me.

"I'm so sorry. I don't cast magick like that normally. You have to know about dark magick to counter it, but I don't actually practice it. Keven's gone, his life force erased from existence. If he's lucky, he's with your gods right now. If not, well, let's not talk about that."

Bo grabbed a large trash can and cleaning supplies. "Can we just toss all of this?" He vaguely pointed to the destroyed room around us.

Nore nodded as she grabbed a few items and made a fire in a large metal bowl. Then she dropped the hex bag inside. Not waiting to watch it burn, she resumed scooping containers off the shelves and dropping them into the trash can. The room stayed silent as we all pitched in to clean the chaos from the morning. Glass tinkled and crunched as we cleared the space.

Once we were finished, Nore grabbed an old straw broom from another room. It was decorated with strips of fabric braided with herbs and crystal beads. I recognized it. She used it to cleanse the energy of a room. I herded everyone out of her space. Nore joined us an hour later in the front of her shop.

Nore settled down in a chair after moving it as far from Thorne as she could. An expression flickered over his face, but disappeared before I had time to decipher it. "So I did a little investigating once I was done cleaning my work room. The curse grew. By a lot. My working theory is that it covers the state, and if I'd finished with the rocks, probably the entirety of the United States. Since the curse has expanded so much, it makes my current wards useless. Shifters are cursed before they get near them, so they'll never activate. Now that I'm no longer being controlled by my unknown adversary, and the enchanted rocks are useless, the curse expansion slowed to a crawl. Which makes me think the casting witch isn't as strong."

"So what does that mean for us?" Ravenna looked at me when she asked the question. "You two should be fine since you started the mating ritual already. I'd recommend completing it as soon as possible in case she finds a way to ramp up the curse, but the tea wore off a long time ago. It seems to remove the curse from you, but I don't know how long it will hold up." Nore ran her hands through her hair, ruffling it up. Then she leaned back in the chair and pushed against her closed eyes. "We have to figure out who this witch is and reverse this spell. Now only has she endangered thousands of agents in the field, the world's economy is suffering. The magick community is furious."

Ravenna leaned forward in her chair. "How do we go about finding this witch?" "All my normal spells will require me to get more supplies, but that will take a few weeks." Nore's gaze searched the shelves of teas. Then she sighed and shrugged.

Thorne spoke up. "Do you have any way to activate the tea?"

"You could do the same thing you used for the True Love Tea," I chimed in.

Nore shook her head. "That shelf wouldn't contain anything useful. I could easily make an activator for them, but unless we want to prank the bitch witch, there wouldn't be much we could do with them."

Thorne shook his head. "I have my stash back in the car, and I keep the locator tea in stock. I don't know how well it will work on a witch, but she might not be expecting it since she destroyed all the cream."

Nore jumped to her feet. "Go get it. I have a few spare supplies in the cellar. If I give you a list, can you two go get them?"

Ravenna agreed and Nore created a list for us. Bo and Thorne left to retrieve the tea. I followed Ravenna outside and down into the cellar.

"Can you grab black pepper and cinnamon? I'll get the other items." Ravenna started on the opposite side of the cellar from where I stood.

I searched the shelves, looking for the spices while glancing over at my mate. Between the tenseness of her body and emotions wafting through me from the mate bond, she was still angry with me. I knew I should give her space, but at the same time, I wanted her to know how much she already meant to me even though we'd just met. My gaze landed on small bottles of the two spices we needed. I grabbed them and turned toward my mate. She'd found her items before I had. Now she stood next to the cellar stairs, watching me.

On an impulse, I walked over to her, then set all the ingredients and the piece of paper on the shelf. Ravenna didn't protest when I took the items or when I guided her up a stair so we were at the same height, then pulled her against me. "Mate, I'm so sorry. I hate for there to be any tension between us, but I wouldn't change what I did. Yes, the primal part of me wants to keep you away from every hint of danger there is, but the reasonable part of me knows that's impossible. I don't know if that will ever change. I'm not trying to control you, or treat you like a damsel. You're my mate, my fated mate, and I'll do anything to make you happy."

She pressed her hands against my chest, then slid them behind my neck, guiding my forehead to rest against hers. "This will be an interesting rest of our life. We're both too stubborn and independent to just fall into this relationship without a few hiccups. When I watched you walk into Nore's work room while she was casting… It terrified me that I'd finally found something amazing, and it would be stolen from me. So I get it. This need to protect you wasn't as strong before. I imagine this is what you felt like when you first realized who I was, and now it's even stronger."

Ravenna tilted her head until our lips pressed together. I pulled her tighter against my body, hooking one of her legs around my waist. "If I lose you, I'd lose the best part of me." "Same. I wish we could finish the ritual right now. I need you to be mine and for me to be yours." I growled low in my chest while her hips ground against my erection. "While the last step of the ritual must wait until tomorrow, I'm happy to assist with any urges you might be having." "Definitely feeling. Some urges. Right now." She muttered between deep kisses." My hands captured both of hers, then turned her around, pressing them against the wall. I nipped at the side of her neck as my hand slid under her clothes and between her thighs. Ravenna gasped as my fingers slid between her folds. I groaned at how responsive she was to my touch. Sliding a finger over her nub, her hips bucked, grinding her ass against my cock through my pants. "If we were at my place, I'd shred your clothes as I ripped them off your body, but I'll spare them this time. Consider this the appetizer to our mating ritual tomorrow. Just enough to take the edge off until you'll be all mine." I opened her pants with my free hand, letting her clothes drop to the ground. Pressing a hand to her upper back, I guided her down until she was at the perfect angle.

Then I dropped to my knees, her glistening pussy right in front of my face. I licked and finger fucked her until she came against my hand. Then I lapped up her cream, revelling in the taste of her pleasure.

"Zagan, please. I need you inside of me."

Her pleas were music to my ears. I freed my rock hard cock, then slid deep until she'd taken all of me. Her hips bucked, sending waves of pleasure through me. My hand slid along her neck, until I cradled her cheek and turned her far enough I could claim her lips. This female consumed me, but I still needed more of her. Our thrusts grew needy, the sounds of flesh slapping flesh echoing through the cellar. I doubled my efforts on teasing her clit until I felt her walls clench on my cock. Ravenna broke our kiss as she tried to hold back a scream. I bit her shoulder, riding out my own orgasm. Her head rested against mine as she coaxed every drop out of me. I didn't want to let go of my mate. I wanted to hold her in my arms all night, tending to her every need and desire until we were fully claimed by our mating bond.

Nore's shrill scream interrupted our naked cuddle time. Ravenna broke our embrace, pulled her clothes on, grabbed the ingredients, and rushed upstairs. I cursed as she disappeared from view. About halfway up the stairs, a loud explosion shook the entire foundation. The cellar door slammed shut. When I regained my footing, I tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. It was stuck.

Chapter Nine

"Goddammit, sonofabitch, motherfucker!" I shouted while trying to give myself a hernia from straining against the cellar door. Whatever made it close had fully committed to making sure it never opened again. While I wasn't a fancy pants predator shifter, I still had significantly more strength than a human.

I stumbled down the steps, trying to see in the pure darkness room. Damn myself for not turning on the light down here and damn whoever locked me down here. More crashing sounds came from above me. Using every bit of my focus, I remembered what I'd seen in the cellar earlier, hoping something would help me escape. There had been a two-by-four in the corner. I blindly felt my way over there, and smiled when I felt the jagged splinters of wood. Made me think a shelf broke and was repaired, but since the rest of the wood was good, Nore had left it in the corner in case she could use it again.

Making my way back to the door, I propped the wood between one of the stairs and the door, throwing my weight into the movement. Even if I couldn't get it to open all the way, I might be able to get enough room to crawl through in my bat form.

The wood creaked ominously, letting me know it didn't appreciate my efforts to force it where it didn't fit. Not a bit of light entered through the seam of the door. The door didn't feel as though it was bowing from the pressure. Putting my foot against the stairwell wall, I leaned my back against the wood pole. I strained to wedge the two-by-four further. Pain burst across my back as the wooden beam exploded from the pressure.

Slid down the stairs while splinters rained over me. A sinking feeling slammed into my gut. If something heavy enough to trap me down here was placed on the door, then it should have bowed in. Which left one option. Magic. Someone used magick to trap me down here. Either Nore had turned on us, but I couldn't fathom her willingly doing that again, or the other witch was here, and my mate was at her mercy.

Anger and pure desperation to ensure the safety of my mate released my beast. My body shrank as my arms changed into wings.

I flew in circles, frustrated at being trapped, when the scent of fresh air met my nose. Following it, I found a small vent pipe at the back of the cellar. For some reason, the vent cover was missing. I crawled inside, thankful for the first time in my life for my small animal form. Guess being bite-sized had its perks sometimes. What I wouldn't pay to watch a wolf try to escape through a ventilation tunnel.

The pipe felt like it went on forever. My tiny bat claws scraped against the metal, struggling to find any kind of purchase to climb. After an eternity of climbing while cursing my unknown captor, I came
to the other end. The vent cover on this end had a large enough gap I barely wiggled through. Now on the ground, I couldn't take off into flight as a bat, but I had a nifty little loophole for that. Ensuring no one could see me, I shifted to human form for a second, then bounced back into my beast. When the reformation was over, I usually ended up about chest height, which gave me enough drop to take off.

I didn't want the witch to see me coming, and my tiny bat form would be a lot harder to spot, unless she'd placed a ward against shifters, but those took a lot of time and power to complete. Now to find my secret spot. I'd never told Nore she had a small gap I could crawl through in my beast form. Flipping my body in the air, I grasped onto the brick and crawled through the crack. Once inside the outer wall of the shop, I crawled until I got to a part where the ducting had come loose.

Pulling myself into the venting shaft, my claws lost their grip on the smooth shiny metal. My body vaulted forward, flinging me into an uncontrolled slide. I extended my wings and claws, trying to grab something, anything to slow down my descent. Except, all I managed to do was turn myself around.

My dignity died. Here I was, in my bat form sliding down the cleanest HVAC vent in the world like a kid on a water slide while my mate was in danger. But my inner man-child hooted and hollered like the idiot he was, while wondering why I hadn't tried vent sliding before.

Then I saw the vent cover, charging at me like an angry kitchen mandolin. I didn't know how sharp the metal grates were. Flinging out my wings and feet, I listened to the tiny screams of claws dragging down metal. My attempts didn't do a damn thing. Pain exploded over my entire body as I smashed into the vent cover.

It fell out of the ceiling, clattering to the ground as my beast decided he'd had enough. Apparently the slide had been his dignity's breaking point because he went full peace-out-bitches on me mid air. He pulled back his control mid freefall, and my human body landed hard. I rolled onto my back, gasping for air after the vent cover knocked the wind out of me. So much for stealth.

Except no one came to check on the commotion. And now that I could breathe, though it hurt like hell, I heard what sounded like two women screaming at each other in the other room. Forcing myself to my feet, I eased to the doorway. Slowly peeking around the corner revealed Bo and Thorne laying on the ground either dead or unconscious. Ravenna was tied to a chair. Her gaze shot to me, then she looked back at the arguing women.

DISTRACTION. The one word slid through the mating bond. It was faint, but the emotions that carried it were strong. My heart skipped a beat. Ravenna. My mate could communicate more than just emotions with me. We'd have a strong mating bond, even for a fated couple. One where we could share our thoughts and emotions. The gods had blessed us. NOW. Ravenna's annoyed tone came through on that whisper. I winked at her, unable to contain my happiness. All I had to do was figure out how to distract the witches.

Nore stood with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face while the other witch berated her. "It's disgusting. A witch with a shifter? Those are two bloodlines that should never cross. Witches are pure, while shifters are… tainted. Not only would you be the laughing stock of the paranormal community, you'd lose your position on the witch's council." The witch shook her head. "You're so much better than this."

"Samara, you need to get over your prejudices. Shifters aren't tainted, they're just blessed in a different way than we are. Besides, why do you care who I spend my time with? You're not even supposed to be here. You should be with your coven."

Samara shook her head. "You just don't get it, do you?" She waved her hands, gesturing to the room around her. "I came here for you, to help you. I've applied for a coven transfer, but all of this… novelty, it's crass. Join me. The two of us working together could revolutionize the paranormal world. Be a magick superpower like no other."

Nore rolled her eyes. "Right, so you think that everything you've done to my friends, my business, my town, plus everything you did to me, that I would just, what… fall into your arms with a smile on my face at your generous offer?"

Samara nodded as she held a hand out to Nore.

"No, hell no. You hexed me so you could control my power. Fuck you and the broomstick you rode in on." Nore flicked her fingers in a come here gesture, like she was signaling me to come. That was when I realized she'd slowly maneuvered Samara until her back was facing me.

Without hesitating, or giving myself time to think things through, I lunged for Samara. When I crashed into her, Samara let out a shrill scream. Nore jumped toward us shouting, "grab her hands! Don't let her cast!"

I pulled her arms behind her back, forcing her face down on the ground. Nore grappled with Samara's hands, trying to immobilize them. Ravenna tossed her shifter enhanced zip tie on the ground next to us.

"Grab those and put them on her. I can't touch them." I balanced more of my weight on her, struggling to keep her pinned. Once she was subdued, I examined my mate. Aside from an annoyed scowl on her face, she looked fine. "Are you okay?"

"Yes and no." Ravenna crossed her arms as she leaned back into her chair with a look that made me question every decision I'd ever made.

Silence dragged between us, only filled by the sounds of Samara struggling and cursing us. Eventually I broke under her questioning glare. "Mate, I don't know what I did wrong-" Ravenna shook her head. "I'm not mad at you. The bitch witch cast some kind of a spell. I've freed myself from the ropes, but I can't make myself move to get up. I'm stuck and I have no idea how to get up."

"THE BITCH WITCH?" Samara screamed. "I'll show you bitch witch."

Nore laughed. "Zagan was wrong about those zip ties. Yes, they are specially designed for shifters, but I enchanted them to bind a witch's powers while worn. No matter what you try to cast, they absorb the energy you're using and reinforce themselves, continuously refortifying themselves while draining you. The only way you're getting out of those is if I let you out."

Samara screamed again, making me wince from her shrill tone. Nore waved her fingers at Ravenna while muttering. My mate sighed when she stood, shaking out her arms and legs. "That sucked. I was all ready to attack and couldn't. So now what do we do with the bitch witch?" Ravenna put a hard emphasis on the last two words, eliciting a glare from Samara.

"I compel her to tell me how to reverse her curses, then hand her over to the council for judgement." Nore cast a spell, smiling as Samara levitated into the air, then moved into a sitting position over a ghost chair. The purple energy glowed and sparked, giving the ghost chair an eerie effect. "This is where you refuse to talk of your own volition, and make me hurt you for the answers I want."

Samara glared at Nore, then shook her head. "I want to give you everything, and you refuse me. You're this beautiful, powerful witch from an ancient family line who commands respect just from walking into the room. Being in your presence is an honor. Then there's me, a self-taught, first generation witch no one even notices. I've been in town for almost a year, but the coven forgot about my transfer, leaving me cut off from either coven. You never even noticed me, not even when I showed up to your shop. I offer you my heart… and you chose a shifter instead." A tear slipped down Samara's cheek. "Don't bother torturing me. You've already hurt me more than anyone else ever could. I'll tell you everything just so I don't have to see you ever again."

Everyone in the room froze, including Bo and Thorne who'd woken up and were now standing behind me. Samara didn't try to hide her tears as they flowed down her cheeks. Ravenna's eyes widened as she glanced at me. I shrugged because I had no idea what to do. Love made people do crazy things.

Ravenna broke the silence. "Nore, we can leave if you want some private time." Nore waved her fingers at us, which I took as a threat to get out now before she used that spell from before to throw us out. "We'll be at Zagan's if you need us."

The four of us bolted out of the shop. We were almost to my apartment before Thorne broke the stunned silence. "Who else didn't see that coming?" The rest of us agreed. "I understand wanting to get the attention of someone you're crushing on, but destroying the world's economy? Too far."

"Let's go to our hotel. I'm exhausted after that spell Samara used to knock us out." Bo groaned as he dropped into their car.

Thorne waved as he climbed in the car, taking a moment to stare at the back seat. "Call us if you or Nore need anything. We'll contact Keven's family then try to get some rest." We thanked them then headed inside. Once the door was locked, my mate sat in a chair in the living room, so I dropped onto the couch opposite of her. It still hurt to breathe, so I laid down. "Today was insane." I muttered, unsure of how to process it.

I felt Ravenna settle between my legs, draping herself over my abdomen and chest. Holding back the wince of pain, I focused on the swell of love and the need to protect coming through the bond. "In a dark, fucked up way, I kinda get it. I'm not sure how you got out of the cellar, but when I saw you appear, then take down Samara, it finally clicked for me. I understand that all possessive need to protect the one I love, and the desire to destroy anything and anyone who gets in the way."

A smile slid across my lips. "Welcome to the mating bond. It's a beautiful, powerful, and yet dangerous thing."

Chapter Ten

Soft hands slid up my body, coaxing me from sleep. My eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight of my beautiful mate sitting between my thighs. Her hair was mussed from sleep, which made her more gorgeous even though I had a feeling if I mentioned it, she'd be mortified. Especially since there was a tuft of hair standing up and sticking out at an odd angle.

"I guess we fell asleep… and I checked the time. It's now tomorrow." Ravenna smiled at me with a mischievous grin. "I want to finish claiming you as mine."

Cupping her cheek, I gently kissed her lips. "Are you sure? Because once we do this, there's no going back."

Ravenna nodded, guiding my free hand to her other cheek. "Yes, but I'd never consider condemning you and walking away now. Relationships aren't perfect. I'm sure there will be times I'll want to throttle you because you're smothering me in protectiveness or annoyed me in some fashion, but that's the same in reverse. Life is about change and surviving hardships, embracing the good moments when they come. I want to do all of that with you, even if we don't agree on my future job prospects."

A chuckle escaped as she nuzzled my hands. "I agree and strive to annoy you as little as possible." "Ha, I noticed you didn't mention being overly protective."

I pinned her hips with my knees, guiding her forward while supporting her weight. "I'll always respect your strength and skill, but I'll never apologize for keeping you safe." I captured her lips with mine, trying to convey everything I felt for her in a single action.

Ravenna moaned into my mouth as she took over, deepening the kiss. Her tongue flicked against my lip, begging for entrance. I parted my lips. She sucked on my tongue while her hips ground against me. Slipping under her shirt, I cupped her full breasts through her bra, but it wasn't enough. With a tug, I felt the material snap. Then her breasts fell free into my hands.

"You destroyed my bra!" Ravenna protested into my mouth, not angry enough to pull away. "I'll buy you a million bras, though I wouldn't complain if you just gave up wearing them all together." Her nipples hardened when my thumbs slid over them. I teasingly pinched and tugged at them, reveling in the sounds Ravenna made.

"It's not about buying a new one." She opened my pants, pulling out my cock. Then she pulled out of my grasp and licked me from base to tip, taking a moment to taste the bead of precum leaking from the tip. I groaned and sank a hand into her hair as sucked me deep into her mouth. Unable to resist, I gently thrust, loving the sight of her taking my entire length. All too soon she sat up and furrowed her eyebrows at me. "Bras aren't like any other piece of clothing. You can't just buy one with the right size on the label. You have to try it on, let it settle in a bit, and make sure it actually fits.

Trust me, finding one that actually fits right is the hardest part. And the larger the breasts, the harder it is."

I tugged at her pants. "Then I'll take you to every bra shop in the world until you have a million bras that you love."

She took my hint and slid out of her underwear and pants. "Seriously, you'd take me bra shopping until I was happy... You won't get bored after an hour and start complaining?" I shook my head and scooted down on the couch so my head was flat. When I urged her to move further up my chest, she didn't budge. "What are you doing?"

"Sit on my face, I want to taste you."

She stuck her hands out, resisting my attempts to move her. "No. I'm not doing that." Somehow, she managed to slide in the wrong direction even though I'd wrapped my arms around her. "Why not?"

"I'll suffocate you."

I chuckled as I lifted her and positioned her so she was sitting on my upper chest, her thighs on either side of my face. "Then I'll die and wake up in Valhalla as a proud warrior." "You're not Norse." Ravenna's laugh changed into a gasp as I finally got her where I wanted her. My tongue slid between her lips, while my arms wrapped around her hips, locking her into place. I sucked on her clit, flicking my tongue over the nub. One of her hands sank into my hair, holding my mouth against her. Breaking the suction, I fucked her with my tongue.

"Zagan, shit. I'm going to come."

I gave her everything I could… sucking, licking, and tonguing until she thrust against my face as she screamed my name. Letting her ride out her orgasm, I waited until she tried to climb off of me before I flicked my tongue against her clit again. She squirmed, trying to escape my hold, while I toyed with her extra sensitivity.

"Zagan!" The moment I let go, she scrambled down my body, out of the reach of my mouth. I grinned at her. "You did that on purpose."

"Of course I did, mate. But you'll notice I survived, so I expect you to sit on my face so I can make you scream orgasm without any protesting in the future."

"I'll take that into consideration. For now, I need to feel you inside me. I can't stand for us to not be fully mated any longer." With those words, she impaled herself on me. We both moaned at the perfect fit. Everything about my mate was perfect, and I loved that she challenged me. Life wasn't meant to be a smooth ride, and the two of us together meant we were on one hell of a roller coaster.

Ravenna rocked her hips, gliding the length of my cock. I pulled her forward, needing to pleasure her as she did me. Her breasts landed on my face, and I took turns sucking and licking her nipples. I
felt her hand slide between our bodies, finding her clit. Her moans grew desperate as she neared her second orgasm.

Bracing my legs, I locked one arm around her hips while the other held the back of her neck. Needing to feel her orgasm on my cock, I took over the thrusting. The sound of flesh slapping filled the room as I pounded into her. Ravenna's body tensed as she screamed, then bit my shoulder as she tried to muffle her cries of pleasure. Her walls gripping my cock sucked me into my own orgasm.

My release filled her, permanently locking our mating bond in place. Every aftershock of pleasure reverberated between us. Mine. But this time the thought came from my mate, not my beast, though he repeated the word with his own claim.

You're stuck with me now. My mate's thoughts reached me effortlessly.

Pulling her down on top of me, I wanted to lay here with our bodies intertwined. There was a level of intimacy that came with being connected physically like this even though we weren't still mating. I'd never change a thing.

I'll eventually get heavy.

Never mate, never. I'd let you lay on me like this for eternity. She nuzzled my neck as her face settled into the crook of my neck.

Her body tensed. "Have you heard from Nore?"

Without disturbing our naked cuddle time, I reached into my pants pocket, astonished I was still wearing them, though they were halfway down my thighs now. I swiped my thumb across the screen and a weight sank in my gut as I saw six missed calls and fifteen text messages from Nore.

Quickly scrolling through the messages, I relayed the info to Ravenna. "Samara only helped Nore reverse one of the curses before she managed to escape. Our business is back on track, but shifters and unclaimed mates in a five hundred mile radius are cursed."

"We have to fix that."

I kissed her forehead. "Yes, and Nore had a few ideas on how to do it the hard way. Aside from helping her capture Samara again, all we can do is help her rebuild her supplies and be there for her if she needs anything else." The guilt of Thorne and Bo's loss of hope with the curse having affected them weighed between us. Something about holding my mate close made the pain of what they were missing out on worse.

Thousands of shifters would lose hope of ever claiming their mate unless Nore found a way to reverse the curse, and I had to bear their burden with them. I'd found my mate, but seeing the pain and hopelessness in their gazes would chip off a part of my soul. This curse couldn't be allowed to remain. I owed it to all the shifters affected, and even more so for Thorne and Bo. I'd recruited them from a place nowhere near Witch Cove. They'd never been cursed if it hadn't been for me.

The End

Thank you for reading Totally Steeped. If you'd like a cookie to go with all this tea, then why not check out Totally Frosted!

About the Author

By Zoey Indiana

Zoey Indiana was inspired by the idea that everyone deserves love and their own happily ever after. She loves to write about heroic heroines who go on amazing adventures while finding the love they deserve. After creating her first fictional planet where amazing creatures roamed at age ten, she was determined to prove love could be found in the stars. In addition to writing, she listens to eclectic music, practices Krav Maga, and takes on home improvement projects just for the fun of it.

Zoey loves to hear from her readers. You can find her here: https://geni.us/ZoeyIndiana

Also by Zoey Indiana

The Shifter Speed Dating Series

The Vengeance Trilogy

The Black Ops Bodyguard Shifters Series

The Wallace Wolf Pack Series

Homecoming

By Wren Michaels

A Hope for Ukraine Story

Chapter One

Stripes of red and white drape the casket. A patch of blue, dotted with white stars, rolls toward me as Marines decked in their dress-blues fold the flag. Through the blurred sheen of my tears, Jason's features come into focus, and he hands it to my mother. His emotionless face stabs at my heart, widening the hole left there by Roger's death. Though I know inside, Jason's hole is as deep as mine—he just said goodbye to his best friend, my brother.

Cold, fat rain drips from the sky, plunking hard against my chilled skin as the casket lowers into the ground. The only way I can tell them apart from my tears is the salt slicking my lips. Heavy labored breaths puff in and out of my mouth, pain welling in my chest as the finality of it hits me. The world around me spins in a darkening whirl, and my body wobbles, numbness taking hold of limbs I no longer have control over.

Warm, strong arms catch me and hold me tight. I don't know who they belong to. Neither my mind nor my heart cares. The sobs come in convulsions, ripping through my body like a hurricane. I'm no longer the strong one I've somehow managed for the last two weeks. The one that my mother needed me to be. I'm simply Katy, and I hurt as I say goodbye to my only brother, dead at age twenty-five.

Screams clawing their way up the back of my throat make it to my lips. My hands jut forth, begging Roger to come back to me. Those same strong arms that caught my fall earlier hold me back now and pull me close against a heated chest. Large, white-gloved hands comb through my hair and caress my back. The priest douses the casket one last time with holy water before a shovel of dirt covers it.

It is over.

He is gone.

The giant hole in my heart widens enough I fall through it into blackness.

“Katy,” a voice says in the fog-filled echo of my head. “Can you hear me?”

His familiar voice warms what's left of my soul. A reminder he lives while my brother lies in a cold grave.

“Katy,” Jason says once more.

My eyes flutter open, and I take in my surroundings. I roll over, nearly right off his lap, as my legs stretch the length of the leather seat in the limousine. Water stains his starched dress-blue pants, from the rain or my tears I'm not sure. I train my gaze over his uniform, and my eyes lock onto his ice-blue ones.

“Jason?” I whisper, as tremors shake my body.

He eases me back against him, wrapping an arm around my body. His broad chest swallows my petite frame as my fingertips trace over the medals decorating his jacket.

“I'm here. I've got you.” My chestnut hair contrasts with his still white-gloved fingers as he curls me tighter to him.

“I…I can't believe he's gone,” I choke out as the sobs gain control of my body once more.

“I know. It should've been me, Katy.” His chest rumbles, and his chin brushes the top of my head as he nods. “It should've been me.”

My shoulders hitch, and I shoot up from his embrace. “Don't talk like that. Don't you ever say that. It shouldn't have been either of you, dammit!”

A tear careens over his cheek as he stares motionless out the tinted window of the limo. Sliding my hand against his face, I swipe at it with my thumb. Glassy eyes stare back at me as he turns and locks onto my gaze. “I'm trying to be strong here. I'm a fucking Marine. But I just buried my best friend because I couldn't get to him in time. I don't know how I'm gonna live with myself.”

His Adam's apple bounces in his throat as he chokes back more tears. In the twenty years I've known Jason, I've seen him cry twice. The first, when he gave me a chocolate covered strawberry for Valentine's Day when I was eight and he was ten. I turned it down, but only because I hate chocolate. Not because it came from him, but he didn't know it at the time.

And now today, at my brother's funeral.

Jason's one of the strongest men I've ever known, aside from Daddy whom we lost ten years earlier to cancer. It's been my mom, Roger, and me ever since. And Jason, who became as much a part of our family as if we'd adopted him while his folks traveled for work. He spent the majority of his childhood at our house.

“No one blames you, Jason. We all knew going in that both of you may not come back when you got deployed.” A lump lodges in my throat, and I choke back a cough, fighting another wave of tears. “I've prayed every night since we got the news, thankful when we finally learned you weren't among the casualties as well.”

My hand locks around his gloved fingers. He gives them a tight tug. I press my tongue against the back of my clenched teeth, forcing the tears to stay at bay.

The limo stops in front of my apartment building, and Jason helps me from the car. Silence dominates our walk to my front door, neither of us needing to speak. I let myself inside and toss the keys to the counter where they skid over the top, crashing to the kitchen floor on the other side. And I leave them there.

Jason remains in the doorway, his barracks cover tucked under his arm. I spin around and look at him, so handsome in his dress uniform. Ice-blue eyes under dark, buzz-cut hair stare back at me. His clean-shaven chiseled jawline clenches. Broad shoulders stand at attention, muscular and strong from years in the Marines. But I've had a crush on him from long before he filled out a uniform. Since that day he gave me that strawberry. What I wanted from him was a kiss, not chocolate. But I never got to tell him because he ran away.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks from the doorway.

“No. I'll never be okay ever again.” My lips tremble as I force the words out. “But I'm sure in time I'll somehow learn to survive.” An ache burns in my chest, and I lurch forward as the tears overwhelm me once more.

Jason dashes in from the doorway and collects me in a puddle, carrying me to the sofa. Warm, safe arms wrap around me and curl me to his chest. His cologne stiffens my nostrils and floods my belly with a warmth I haven't felt in a long time.

“Stay with me tonight,” I whisper as I cling to his jacket like a lifeline. “I don't wanna be alone.”

He swallows hard, jolting my head against his chest, and the pace of his heartbeat quickens. I know he'd never take advantage of me. I'm like his little sister. He's never thought of me more than that, especially since Roger was his best friend. But for the last fifteen years I've never stopped dreaming about Jason, wishing and hoping someday he'd feel the same way about me.

Then the military took over his, and my brother's, lives. I rarely saw them over the last four years. And now this.

“Are you sure?” he asks in more of a gasp than words. “I won't leave you if you need me.”

I crawl into his lap, my thin black dress gathering up my thighs as I straddle him. My fingers curl into his jacket, yanking it toward me as my heated watery glare locks onto his. “There's a hole in my heart, Jason. I need something to fill it. I need you to fill it. Take me away from this pain.”

Wide eyes stare back at me as he shakes his head. “You're not asking what I think you are, are you, Katy?”

“Don't you feel it?” I suck in a gasping breath, choking on my tears. “The stabbing pain gouging a hole in your soul?” I plead with my eyes. “Make it stop.” My lips tremble like little jackhammers. “Please, make it stop.”

Large hands grip the sides of my face, his blazing glare boring another hole into my already porous heart. “Think about what you're asking me to do. I just fucking lost my best friend, Katy. Yes, I feel a hole. I feel the pain on a level you can't even imagine. But I'm not gonna betray him and sleep with his sister. I can't do it.”

His words gut me. My bottled emotions overflow in liquid rejection careening over my cheeks. I fight the urge to pummel his chest with my clenched fist. Rage teeters a thin gray line hovering over my heart. Anything is better than the grief settling like winter in my soul.

“That's all I've ever been to you? Never once did you ever think of me as more than that? As more than just Roger's little sister?” Salty tears continue to rain down my cheeks, slicking my nose and lips. “You don't get it, do you? I don't want to be your sister. I want you to fuck me, Jason. I want you to fill me. And when I need you most, you're turning your back on me.” My chest convulses in sobs as I punch him.

“Shit, Katy!” His eyes shoot wide again as he grips my face again in his hands. Our gazes glue to one another. Heavy, heated breaths huff in and out of his chest beneath me. “I have no words.”

“I need something to make me forget.” I dot his face with my fingertips, as if memorizing his features by touch. “Don't you wanna forget? Just go somewhere else, be someone else for a little while? An escape?”

He stares at me, confusion coloring his eyes an icy gray. Worry floods my heart that he'll pick up run from me. Leaving me once again alone.

“Of course, I do. I wish I could take it all back. I wish it had never happened. I wish so many things, Katy. More than you'll ever know.” His iced over eyes crack.

I shake my head, choking on hyperventilating tears. “One kiss. Just give me one kiss and if you feel nothing, then you can leave.”

His lips purse, pressing together until they turn white. Fingertips curl into the back of my head, gripping me as if I'll slip from them. “I can't.”

Short bursts of air puff in and out of my mouth as I give him a nod. “Then go.” Fighting my shivering limbs, I force myself off his lap, but his hands clamp back against my cheeks, pulling me back to him.

“I won't be able to stop at just one kiss.” He shakes his head. “Fuck, Katy. Why now?”

“Because I need something to make me forget this pain.” I trace his lips with a trembling finger. “And only you can do it. You don't have to worry. I know it'll be just one night, to fill this hollow in our hearts. I don't expect anything from you.”

His glassy eyes pierce my soul. “That's all you want from me?”

No. I want a lifetime with him. But I can never say it. The fact that he's even considering having sex with me, Roger's little sister, divulges how deep his pain is. How far he's willing to go to drown himself, just like me. I know it would be nothing more than a fuck. And right now, that's all I can handle myself. If I let myself fall back in love with him and he comes home in a box like my brother, I would shatter.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Please, I need you, Jason.”

Tremors attack his hands on my face. I grip his jacket and yank him to me, crushing my lips over his before he can say no. A growl bubbles up from his throat as he slams his tongue into my mouth. His fingers curl against my cheek as he punishes my tongue with his own. My nails drag along the exposed flesh on his neck, and he bucks underneath me. His hardening cock fills his pants, and I rock my thin panties over him.

Trembling hands roam my body, scratching and pulling at my dress, unable to get it off me fast enough. His kisses ignite me, sending a fiery ache between my legs. I need more of his tongue, for it to find its way over the rest of my body. His kisses are better than I ever imagined, filling the hole, stripping the numbness hardening inside me. They melt me, pooling a desire for him I've hidden for so long.

He pulls away from me, and I whimper. With a gentle shake of his head, he reassures me it’s only for a moment. Stripping his gloves from his hands, he finds his way to my back, and the sound of my zipper lowering sends a jolt of adrenaline through my heart.

“You really want me to fuck you, Katy?” Desire burns like heated flames in his eyes.

“Yes,” I gasp as his hands rake down my breasts pulling my dress with them. My breasts flop out of my bra still hooked at my back. One hand twirls a nipple, and it pebbles in his fingertips.

With a firm hand, he yanks me by the back of my neck to his mouth. “How bad?”

“Make it hurt,” I moan against his lips. “Make me feel something other than hollow.”

With desperation, I fumble along the clasps on his battalion jacket working it free of his chest. I yank at the buttons on the shirt underneath until I grip his t-shirt and tug at it. How many layers does this man have on?

I force his jacket and shirt over his shoulders, and he eases himself out of it. Pulling his undershirt over his head, I run my hands over his bare chest. His heart races beneath my fingertips, sending a smile to my face for the first time in two weeks. Once icy eyes melt into a deeper blue as a smile curls over his own lips.

For a moment, I ache to tell him how I really feel. To have him tell me in return this moment will last forever and that he loves me. Reality hits me with an icy slap, and I try to free myself from the circle of what ifs running through my mind..

“Katy?” he whispers, looking into my eyes. “You still with me?”

Before I can talk myself out of it, I answer. “Fuck me, Jason. Take me, right now.”

He stills beneath me. I rake my nails across his skin and dive against his neck, pulling his flesh over my lips and teeth. A rumble makes its way from his chest to his lips, releasing in a groan. His hands work my bra free, and he yanks the material from between us. My bare breasts press into his flesh, and he cups them in his hands.

I lose myself in the moment realizing Jason's hands are roaming my body. The man I've been in love with all my life is letting me use him for a one-night stand. A tear slides over my cheek, and his lips kiss it away. This one isn't for Roger—it's a tear for him.

“Stand up,” he commands, startling me from my thoughts as he shoves me from his lap.

My eyes widen, and a pang of fear twinges my heart. Is he having second thoughts?

“Take off your panties,” he demands, narrowing his eyes.

A shudder ransacks my body at the tone of his voice, forceful and lacking emotion. He just turned Marine on me. Excitement floods my limbs like a venomous poison, and I lose control over them, fumbling to get my panties off.

“You're taking too long,” he says. I stare at the muscles flexing in his arms as he grips them in his hands and rips them to shreds, yanking the remnants from my body.

A gasp escapes my lips as my mouth pops open, staring at his hardening face where only moments ago tenderness filled his eyes. I stand naked before him, and his eyes rake my body filled with hunger and desire. Yet, behind all that, they’re shrouded in pain.

Both hands grip my breasts, and he shoves me backward until I hit the wall. Kneading them with his fingers, his mouth lunges for mine. Fierce strokes of his tongue send waves of ecstasy through me. Rough hands drag across my body, pressing into my skin.

Jerking back, he breaks our kiss and leans to my ear. “Are you wet for me?”

“Dripping,” I moan as the thought of his fingers inside me send tremors to my core. Arching my hips to his, I desperately want his pants to be gone. My fingers fumble with his belt.

He knocks them away. “Not yet,” he demands.

“Too bad.” I attack his belt again.

“I said not yet,” he growls and slams me back against the wall.

“Fuck you,” I say as I rip open his pants and shove them down his hips, releasing him. Heat floods my limbs, sending an exhilarating high through my veins that I have Jason’s cock against me, and I’m the one who made him hard.

He growls with a shake of his head, our eyes locking in a heated glare. “You don’t play nice.”

“I don’t want nice.” My fingers grip his thick shaft and stroke it, spreading the bubble of pre-cum over his length.

A terse laugh pops from his throat as his large hand cups my mound. “Tell me what you want, Katy.”

I rock my hips in his hand, needing his fingers to slip in me. “I want you inside me. I want you to make me scream.”

“My dick or my fingers.” He grips my wrists in his hands and slams them above my head, pinning me to the wall.

“Both,” I gasp.

Arching his hips, he presses his hard cock against my pussy, sliding it back and forth along my skin. It slinks between my lower lips, and he drags it over my throbbing clit. A guttural groan rips from my mouth, carrying the last bit of air from my lungs.

I drop to my knees as my legs turn to Jell-O. His glistening cock stares me in the face. More stunning than I ever imagined, the veins running along it twitch through its thickness. Desire pools between my legs even more, thinking about how it will feel when he slams it inside me. I study it covered in my arousal.

With a flick of my tongue, I circle the tip of it before plunging my mouth over the length of him in surprise. His hips jut forward in shock, and he slams his hands against the wall to steady himself.

“God damn, Katy!” he huffs through terse breaths. “Fuck.”

I slide him through my hollowed cheeks, pressing my tongue along his length as he pumps in and out of my mouth. Cupping his balls in my hands, I work them through my fingertips as I continue my assault on his cock with my mouth.

“Stop, Katy,” he says between pants. “Fuck, you’re so good at that. You’re gonna make me come.”

A smile encircles my lips as I ease off him. He lifts me to stand and deadlocks my gaze. Those ice-blue eyes melt, no longer of the soldier, but of Jason. My Jason, whom I’ve secretly loved for years. Filled with pain and lust, he dives back against my mouth, exploring its depths with his tongue.

Wild roaming fingertips curl into my hair before yanking on the back of it in a firm hold. His other hand slams against my pussy, slipping two fingers inside. My moan breaks our kiss, but with quick movements he reclaims my lips, sucking and biting at them as his long fingers find their way into my slick depths. His fingers fuck me in powerful strokes, plunging in and out of my channel. Dizziness assails me as I fight to bring much needed breath to my lungs between kisses.

“How does that feel, Katy?” he growls as he deepens his finger thrusts. “Tell me how it feels.”

“So good.” I moan, closing my eyes, wondering if the words even left my lips as bliss swallows me whole.

“Look at me,” he demands, forcing my head forward with his free hand still gripping my hair. “I want you to look into my eyes as I fuck you.”

They deepen in their blue hue, swimming with so many emotions I can't pick a single one out. His thrusts stop, and I gasp. Emptiness devours me as he removes his fingers. They slide along my cleft, running back and forth over my throbbing clit. He swipes a moan from my lips, and I can't stop my eyes from closing as the pleasure consumes my body.

“Look me in the eyes, Katy,” he roars once again.

My eyes dart open and lock onto his gaze as he continues to rub my clit with fierce strokes. The ecstasy builds and my legs wobble with each stroke. I lose the ability to stand, and he cradles my back with his free hand, holding me against the wall and his broad body. A breathy gasp parts my lips as we drink each other in with our eyes.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes as I watch you come.”

His fingers quicken, and a wave of pleasure rattles my body, sending shudder after shudder through my limbs, and I reply only in gasping screams. Muscles tighten around me, holding me up as the last of my orgasm rips through me.

“I need you inside me, Jason,” I beg, still locked onto his eyes.

They soften as he cradles me in his arms and carries me to my bed. Easing me into the softness, he crawls over me, hovering above my lips.

“I don’t have any condoms with me,” he whispers.

I swallow hard as I take a moment to catch my breath. “I’m on the pill, and I’m clean.”

He traces a finger over my cheek. “Me, too. You’re okay with me being unsheathed?”

I nod. He drinks me in with his eyes, training the length of my face before he crashes against my lips, and his hard cock plunges into my depths. There's no tenderness, there's no sweetness to it. There is only desire, drive, and need. My legs part as I arch my hips, aching to take him deeper. He fills me with long, forceful thrusts, slamming his balls against my ass.

My fingers claw at his back, raking his skin under my nails, which releases a growl from his lips. He breaks our kiss, gasping for air as he quickens his pace. Strong thrusts rock my body, and my breasts bounce up and down my chest. They catch his eyes, and he stares at them like they're the most amazing thing in this world. His girth fills me, hammering tight against my walls as ripples of pleasure set me on fire, and I scream his name.

One night with Jason will never be enough.

“Fuck, I love you, Katy,” he gasps as shudders rumble through him, his seed exploding inside me.

I still under him as he collapses on top of me. A lump lodges itself in my throat, and I force a hard swallow. My heart plunges, riding the fear pitching and rolling in my stomach that makes me think I misheard him. I replay what he said over and over in my head. Words leave me, and I ache to say something back to him.

“What?” I manage to force out over my own gasping breaths.

With a slow, methodical movement, he lifts his head from my breasts. Sweat slicks his brow. “I'm in love with you.”

Time stops. So does my heart. Tears slip from my eyes. All thoughts leave me as I try to process the words I've longed to hear from his lips for years.

He looks deep into my eyes, straight to the bottom of my soul. “Roger would never forgive me that I just fucked his sister. But dammit, I've been in love with you since I was ten.” His heaving chest crushes against mine.

I give his shoulder a forceful shove, narrowing my eyes. “I've been in love with you for fifteen years, Jason. Fifteen fucking years. Not even a hint you liked me back.”

A beaming smile brims over his lips. “Well damnit, Katy, you crushed me when you threw that fucking strawberry back at me. What was I supposed to think?”

“I was eight-years-old, you jerk!” I glare at him as he slips out of me and rolls onto a pillow. “And you know I don't like chocolate. I didn't want the strawberry. I wanted you.”

He turns and looks back into my eyes. “A part of me knew that. But out of respect for Roger, I couldn't go after you.”

A sigh squeezes from my chest. “I understand,” I whisper.

“Do you still want only one night with me?” he asks, tracing a finger along my breasts.

My eyes widen as hope fills a part of the hole in my heart. “Are you offering more?”

“One night will never be enough, Katy.” He grips my hand in his and kisses each pad of my fingertips. “But I know you don't want to be attached to a military man. I have to go back overseas in a couple days.”

“I know.” The words tumble from my lips, pulling tears down with them. “But I'd rather have one night with you, knowing the feel of your lips on mine, the fulfillment of you inside me, than a lifetime of regret wondering what if.”

“Are you willing to give it a shot?” He swallows hard as his eyes glaze over. “I promise I'll come back to you, Katy.” His fingers lace with mine, tugging them tight to his chest.

More tears drip down my cheeks, plunking onto the pillow under me. “Please don't make promises you can't keep. Just promise you'll try.”

“Okay, I promise I'll try,” he whispers, lowering his lips to mine. “I've only got four more months left on my deployment, and then I'll be back in the States. But I'll be stationed at Miramar.”

My heart dives to my stomach at the thought of him going back to enemy territory. Four months. I can handle four months. I've handled him being gone four years. “It'll still be long distance when you get back, but it'll be better knowing you're on U.S. soil.”

“It doesn't have to be long distance,” he says, tracing my fingers with one of his own.

My mind races with thoughts of what he could possibly mean. I brush lingering tears from my eyes and sit up facing him. “What?”

“Well, you're a teacher.” He glances down to his finger tracing lines along my hand. “If I could find you a teaching job in the Miramar area…”

My lashes flutter, blinking back tears. “Are you asking me to live with you?” The words ransack my tongue and whoosh from my lips before I can stop them.

He swallows hard, and his gaze returns to mine. “We've known each other all our lives, Katy. It's not like we just met. But if you don't wanna rush things, I understand.”

His words suck the air from my lungs even more than his kisses. I go from soul-sucking grief to insane, intense pleasure to complete and utter shock in the span of thirty minutes. Air thins around me, and I pull my knees to my chest.

“I've freaked you out, haven't I?” He sits up, tugging a blanket around him. “It's just, Roger's death has me doing a lot of thinking. Life's so short, Katy. Look how much time we've wasted being afraid of what Roger thought. He was my best friend, and I want to honor his memory. But dammit, I love you. I always have. And I don't want to waste any more time trying to forget you, when I know I never will.”

I shake my head, cupping the side of his face with my hand. “I don't think he'd be mad we got together, Jason. I think he's laughing at us right now wondering why we hadn't done it sooner.”

“No, he'd kick my ass for things I did to your body and the things I still want to do,” he says, lunging over me, forcing my knees back to the bed. “God, I hope I didn't bruise you.”

“Just means you'll have to kiss them better.” I lick my lips and pull him to me.

He dives against my neck, sucking my flesh between his teeth as his hands rake over my breasts. “So, does that mean you'll at least think about my offer? You've got four months to decide.”

“But my mother...” Panic throws darts at my heart. “She'll be all alone.”

“It's not like you live with her. But fuck, we'll move her, too.” He pulls back from my neck, straddling me. “But isn't she dating someone?”

“Yeah, she's been with Henry for almost a year now. It took her a long time to date after Daddy passed.” My hand curls against the back of Jason's head, his buzz-cut hair prickling the pads of my fingertips.

His lips find a breast, nuzzling and biting my nipple, sucking a gasp from my lungs. Pleasure and pain swirl in tingles through me. “It's not like you're leaving tomorrow. You've got four months to prep her, and we'll come back and visit.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

He darts up and locks onto my eyes. “Yes?” he asks, as if he can't believe his ears. Deep pools of blue in his eyes shimmer in the dusk filling the room, the last light of day sinking into the dark clouds.

I bite my bottom lip and nod. “Yes.”

He sweeps me into a kiss, putting into action what words cannot say. No longer a lust-filled, hungry kiss, his tongue presses against mine in a dance to claim me. Make me his. Mark his territory.

I pull him to me, aching to feel his arms around me once more. His large hands cup my ass and jerk me against his sweat slicked body. He pulls on my bottom lip, grazing it with his teeth before releasing me.

“I'm not finished with you yet,” he says, sliding a finger beneath me.

A low moan sounds in my throat. “I hope you'll never be finished with me.”

He trails kisses over my body until his lips find their way to my mound. Spreading my legs, he dips his face between them and unleashes his tongue against my clit. “God, you smell fucking delicious. Like sex. Like me. Like beauty.”

“Beauty smells?” A delirious smile upturns on my lips.

“Yes, it smells like you,” he says, plunging his tongue inside me.

His tongue undulates against my sex, rolling wave after wave of intense pleasure, rampaging through me until his name rips from my throat in a guttural moan. Easing two fingers inside me, he slides through my slickness, working more arousal from me. Refusing to release his hold, his tongue flicks in a fury over my clit until only screams are left in my lungs. The intense pain and pleasure drive me insane, and when I think I can take no more, he makes me come again under his voracious tongue, lapping at the juices he created.

“Do you want to taste your beauty?” he asks, crawling like a stalking panther up my body.

An intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine, releasing itself in a vocal aching of want and need. “Yes.”

His lips crush against me, and he slides his tongue all over mine, letting me drink my own arousal. Tangy yet sweet, it slicks our tangoing tongues as his cock teases the entrance to my pussy. Sliding only the tip in, he continues to punish my mouth until I lap the last of myself from his tongue.

With everything in me, I heave his body off and I roll on top of him. Shock overshadows the desire in his eyes for a moment.

“Fuck, Katy. You're everything I've ever wanted.” His body arches as I slam my hips over his length and rock him hard. Long fingers dig into the flesh of my hips as he bucks under me. Strong, muscular thighs plank, holding me in the air as I ride him to completion. He growls, a mixture of a moan and a gasping breath carrying my name.

His hips drop, taking me with them, and I bounce in a fit of giggles against his chest. He whips me over, curling me under him as he stares with intensity at me.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

I tilt my head and try to pick out the emotions filling his eyes. “For what?” I say with a hard swallow.

“Asking me to stay with you tonight. I didn't want to be alone either.” His fingertips feather across my cheek coming to rest on my lips.

My eyes press closed, heightening the scent of our sex and Jason's cologne around me. “I needed your strength, your bravery to get me through tonight.”

He brushes his lips against mine. “You're the brave one. You told me to fuck you, and I end up confessing my love.” A laugh pops from his throat.

I reopen my eyes, staring up at the man who just restored my soul. “You wanna know a secret?” My hand slides along his cheek budding with five o'clock stubble that prickles my skin. “Part of the ache in my heart wasn't just from Roger's death.”

He hovers above me, confusion coloring his eyes. “What do you mean?”

More tears slither across my cheeks. “You came back to me. I needed to make love to you because you're still alive.”

A softness halos his blue eyes, chipping away at the hard lines on his face. “Jesus, Katy,” he chokes out, and he succumbs to wobbling limbs, collapsing on top of me.

Sobs rip from his chest, and I simply let him cry. My hand sweeps in slow strokes over the back of his head as he drains himself of the pain bottled up inside. His arms curl under my body, choking air from my lungs as he holds me so tight, I cannot breathe. But I let him. I'd give him my last breath if he needed it.

His release of emotions soaks my skin, and I realize we are now one. I have a part of him no one else has ever had—his tears. He took my pain, and I'm taking his.

Epilogue

White lights twinkle among the evergreen branches. Heat seeps through my hands as they curl around a cup of cocoa, warming the chill from my fingers. Snowflakes ride a billow of wind, drifting down in waves over the street outside.

“I know you miss him, Katy,” Mom says, forcing a cheery tone. “You've only got one more month.”

I nod and do my best to toss her a convincing smile. Inside, my heart swims in longing for Jason. Three months ago, I lay in his arms as he filled me physically and emotionally. We bared our souls to each other that day. But then life sucked me back to reality, gutting me as he stepped out of my arms and onto a plane days later.

That was the second hardest day of my life. The first, he'd spent the night making love to me, bringing me back from the edge of insanity.

Months passed like years, even though we never missed a day talking to each other. Most of the time it was only a one-line text. But he always found a way to let me know he was okay. I knew going in, holidays would be the hardest. Especially with Roger gone, nothing would ever be the same.

“Henry's making his special Christmas Eve prime rib,” Mom says somewhere in the background. Her words filter through me like the voice of a ghost. “You know, dear, I'll be perfectly fine here with Henry. I know your decision's been weighing heavy on your mind. And it gives me the perfect excuse to escape these awful winters and come visit you in San Diego.”

I nod and give Mom a heartfelt smile. “We'd like that. Jason's always thought of you as a second mother.” After a warm hug, she heads back to the kitchen, and I continue staring out the window, wishing on a star that Jason would come back to me safely.

Over the months, he’s sent me updates on our housing situation in Miramar, finding us a little starter home together. Always thinking about me first, he made sure we'd be living off base so I could be closer to the elementary school where I'd be teaching.

One more month until our life together could start.

Buzzing from my purse startles my thoughts, and I dive in to catch it in case it's Jason. Excitement floods my veins as I see his name light up on my phone, and I open the text.

Jason: Merry Christmas Eve, baby.

Me: Merry Christmas Eve, my love.

Jason: You doing okay?

Me: Much better now that I've heard from you. How about you?

Jason: Oh, I'm doing pretty well. Glad I caught you.

Me: Me too. I've got a present for you.

Jason: You do? Did you send it over here already, because I haven't gotten it. If not, wait til I get home. Mail takes forever, and I won't get it before I ship out next month.

Me: Nope. I can send it to you right now.

My finger trembles over the send button on my phone. Before he'd left to go back overseas, I stole his battalion jacket and took some boudoir photos of myself in it. Air hitches in my throat as I wait for his response. I sent him my favorite shot: me naked, wearing only the jacket and his barracks cover. The jacket hung open, exposing a portion of my breast as my hand slipped between my thighs.

Jason: Holy Fuck, Katy.

Me: I'm sorry, I should've asked to borrow your jacket. But I wanted it to be a surprise.

Jason: That's the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life, next to your naked body riding mine. It makes me want you so bad right now. You're so beautiful, I can't stop staring at it. I miss your gorgeous brown eyes.

A mix of happiness and sadness fills me, swirling in a chaotic dance in my heart. He always knows just what to say. My heart hurts without him.

Me: I miss you so much. I miss your voice. I miss your kisses.

Jason: Is it snowing?

Me: Yes, it's Wisconsin, it's always snowing.

Jason: Go outside and take a video of you twirling in the falling snow. I miss you so much and want to see your smiling face catching snowflakes. There's only desert here, and it doesn't feel like Christmas. That would make my world if I could see a smile on your face.

My heart pools through my chest as his words melt it. With mere words he can fill me even if he's not here.

Me: Okay. Give me a minute.

I rise from the sofa and make my way to the kitchen. “Mom, are you busy?”

She spins around after popping sweet potatoes into the oven. “What is it, dear?”

“Jason wants me to send him a video. He hates the desert and misses snow on Christmas Eve. Can you shoot a little video of me for him?” I hand her my phone.

“Of course. What a great idea!” She takes my phone and follows me outside.

Moonlight drapes the untouched drifts of snow in a silvery sheen. My boots crunch a path through to the deck in the backyard of my mother's house.

“Ready?” Mom asks.

“Yeah, start recording,” I shout back to her as I lift my hands up and make a slow twirl around.

Snowflakes tickle my nose and tongue with every spin. A soft laugh pops up from my throat as I stop and smile at the camera. Something crunches behind me, and I hitch a shoulder as warm hands slide their way over my waist from behind. His cologne hits my nose, and I know who it is before I ever turn around. Water pools in my eyes as I clutch his hands over my stomach. My heart hammers so fast against my ribcage it practically hums.

“Jason?” I whisper in a gasp.

“Merry Christmas, Katy.” His low, mellow voice drapes me in a heat that weakens my knees.

I collapse in tears, and he spins me in his arms. His lips crush my mouth, forcing my eyes closed. The taste of his tongue, his sensual movements tell me it's him. He's really here, holding me.

Releasing my lips, he holds me to him so close we become one body. His dress-blue battalion jacket rubs against my face, drowning me in his familiar scent. I sob against him. And this time it's happy tears, not of sorrow.

“God, I've missed you so much,” I whimper against his chest.

Boots crunch, and a door hitches shut. Mom left us alone, and a smile curls over my lips. I still haven't seen his face. Stepping back, I look up at him. A smile beams across his handsome chiseled jawline beneath his barracks cover.

“I've missed you more than you'll ever know,” he says, gripping my fingers tight in his gloved hands.

“Are you officially back?” I choke out, staring into his eyes.

He gives me a nod and an even wider smile. “Yup.”

“When did you get in?” My eyes launch wide open.

“This morning. I called your mom and asked her to keep it a secret. She helped me plan this. I spent the day with my folks, so tonight I'm all yours.” His arms drape around me as I shiver in the cold. “Let's get you back inside. You're freezing.”

I take a step, and before I manage another one, he stops me with a gentle tug on my arm. “Katy,” he whispers.

I spin back around and find him on one knee drenched in snow. With shaking fingers, he fumbles open a black velvet box and holds it up. My heart hammers its way up my throat, cutting off the last bit of air in my lungs, and I clutch a hand to my chest.

“I know some may say we're moving too fast, but you and I know each other inside and out. My whole life's been spent basing decisions on what other people think, from Roger to the military. Being away from you the last three months made me realize I want to start my future with you right here, right now.” He slides the ring from the box and grips the loop tight with trembling fingers. Raising his head, glassy blue eyes stare at me. “Will you marry me?”

Words stick behind my thundering heart still lodged in my throat as I nod. “Yes,” I choke out, brushing back the heated tears streaming over my chilled skin. “Oh God, Jason, yes!”

He rises from the snow, water soaking through his dress-blue pants. Taking my hand in his, he slips the ring over my finger before kissing the pad of my fingertip. I manage to swallow the lump in my throat as I brush a finger along his face, catching a tear that slipped across his own cheek.

“Whoo, okay.” He exhales a long deep breath with a smile of relief spreading over his face. “That went better than expected.”

A giggle escapes my lips, and I throw my arms around him, pulling his mouth to meet mine. Unspoken words slide from his tongue to mine as he deepens the kiss. He melts my body, mind and soul.

Pulling back, he rests his forehead on mine. “Can we just go back to your place?”

“As much as I'd love to, it's Christmas Eve. We should at least make it through dinner,” I say with a sigh. “And now we have to share the good news with Mom.”

“Okay, fine.” He dots my lips with one more kiss. “But I'm gonna need all night with you. I plan on properly filling your stocking.” The wicked grin curling over his lips heats my core, sending internal shudders rampaging through me.

“I hope so. I've been a very good girl.” My eyes narrow with desire as I cup his hard cock in my hand.

“Don't do that, Katy. We'll never make it inside.” A low growl purrs in his throat.

My fingertips work to unbuckle his pants in a fury.

“Katy,” he says in a low murmur.

I slip my hand in and curl my fingers around his length. He stands at attention like a good soldier, and his tip pops out from the top of his briefs.

“Fuck, Katy, what're you doing? What if your mom comes back outside?” he says but rocks his hips in steady movements with my hand.

“Doesn't that add to the excitement? Besides, you deserve it. You've been gone for three months.” Tossing a quick glance over my shoulder, I lean down and lick the tip of his cock brimming with pre-cum.

“Shit,” he says and bucks against my lips as I take him deeper in my mouth. “God, I've missed you.”

My mouth slides over him until both of his hands wrap against my head and muffled groans tumble from his lips. His powerful thighs shudder as he shoots his seed across my tongue. Licking him clean, I tuck him back inside his home and inch my way up his chest.

“Is that enough to get you through dinner?” I bat my lashes at him.

“No, because now I wanna return the favor.” He rips off his white gloves and tosses them into the snow as he slaps a hand under my skirt, sliding aside my panties. Twirling a finger inside me, he plunges two into my channel ripping a gasp from my lungs.

“No, this was about you. I wanted to give you a present.” Soft moans fall from my lips as I try to find the strength to push him away. But I can't. My body aches for him, crumbling under his touch.

The force of his body pushes me against the siding of the house, and he leans in, pressing his lips to my ear. “Come for me, Katy.”

Shivers run up and down my spine like tiny spiders, and I shudder in his arms. The heat of his body warms my limbs while his fingers dance inside me. Groans purr in my throat as the waves build with each swipe of his fingers.

“Let me hear you come,” he says in a low, sexy voice.

He strokes me faster, slipping and sliding through my dripping arousal. Short bursts of air puff in and out of my chest, carrying a moan each time. Passion overtakes my body as the tendrils of pleasure spiral through me, lifting me to another world. Nothing else matters. He is here with me now, his hands inside me, touching me.

I grip the sides of his face, pressing his ear to my lips as I moan his name. “Jason.” I grasp at breaths through each shudder as my orgasm swallows me whole. “I love you,” I choke out between gasps.

His face curls into a beaming smile beneath my fingertips and he looks into my eyes. “And I love you, Katy.”

I fall into a puddle in his arms. “Welcome home.”

Also by Wren Michaels

Look for more books by Wren Michaels at wrenmichaels.net
and on her Amazon Author Page

Romantic Suspense

The Breaking the SEAL series

Contemporary Romance

Friend Zoned

Vexed

Paranormal Romantic Comedy

It’s a Wonderful Lie

Paranormal Romance

Eluding Illusions

The SnowRose Series

The Thunderbird Brotherhood Series

Table of Contents

- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Foreword
- Full Page Image

- Forever and Always

- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- About the Author

- Sunflowers Are Yellow

- Chapter 1

- About the Author

- Trust Your Instincts

- Chapter 1

- Battle of a Lifetime

- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- About the Author

- Deep Roots

- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- About the Author
- Also By Kate Seger

- Sacrifices

- Chapter 1

- About the Author

- A Sunrise On Occupied Lands

- Chapter 1
- Also By F. Stephan
- About the Author

- Love Letter

- 1. Hunter
- 2. Sloane
- About the Author

- Totally Stepped

- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- About the Author
- Also by Zoey Indiana

- Homecoming

- Chapter 1
- Epilogue
- Also by Wren Michaels