
An Ellora's Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Bijou's Bonds
ISBN 9781419912238
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Bijou's Bonds Copyright © 2007 Anh Leod
Edited by Helen Woodall.
Cover art by Syneca.
Electronic book Publication September 2007
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors' imagination and used fictitiously.
Bijou's Bonds
Anh Leod
For Leander.
Nine of Swords
Bijou, a shape-shifter, is Cere from Lucky Number Seven's sister. In this universe shape-shifters have "true mates" they are fated to be with so it makes sense that a tool like the tarot could provide real warnings and help to them.
Bijou is the historian of her clan and couldn't have been saddled with a less appropriate true mate than the alpha of the rival Legion clan. Bijou's entire life revolves around her clan and the process of being forced to leave it was going to create sadness, despair, shame and disgrace, some of the themes of the Nine of Swords card.
In addition, various sources tell us this card signifies anxiety, misery, hopelessness, panic, illness, cruelty, violence, martyrdom and an undesired pregnancy. The good news is a new life comes from all this suffering, making the card a positive picture rather than a bleak one.
In addition to the themes of the card itself there are a couple of tarot readings in this short novel. I took the reading formats from Illustrated Tarot Spreads by Heidemarie Pielmeier and Marcus Schirner.
I had a lot of fun continuing to develop my shape-shifter universe in this story. Since both romantic partners this time are werewolves that moved the sex down darker paths. The clans used to have magic and hid it away. This secretly magical clan past comes into play along with the tarot.
Until this night, Nana had always been a comfort to her.
"So you want to play the game of fate, do you?" Nana asked, her wrinkled face holding a sly expression as she unwrapped the red silk from her worn deck of tarot cards.
Bijou leaned over the picnic table on her deck. She had just finished clearing the plates from dinner. The hot July sun was sinking on the horizon. It had been a perfect day but still, a feeling of unease had steadily crept over her as the day progressed.
She only had one goal in life, to translate the ancient scrolls of her clan. As historian of the Brotherhood she had the right, but the Council was convening soon and they might decide the lost history and knowledge of their ancestors was better left to the ages.
Nana's cards would tell her what she faced. Bijou would rather be forewarned than in the dark. She would arm herself against the future with the insight of the tarot. All shape-shifters respected the cards.
Nana was a clan elder, and Barkley's, the alpha's advisor, mother. She had a touch of the far sight. In all Nana's long history, Bijou had never known her to be wrong, whatever divination tool was used.
"What is your problem, child?" The steel gray bun on the top of Nana's head bobbed as she spoke. Despite her air of mystery, Nana had always been kind to Bijou.
"I want to see history," Bijou said firmly. "I want to open the oldest scrolls of our clan."
"How is that a problem? What lies underneath your desire?"
"A quest for knowledge, I suppose." Bijou moved her claw-tipped finger swiftly through the flame of a lavender-scented candle and felt the same childish sense of wonder she'd felt when first seeing the trick as a child. Though humans could do the trick too, her tougher skin made it less risky.
"You want knowledge but you fear. Why?"
"I may be thwarted." She imagined the steel door of the archives being locked in front of her, the key being taken away forever, and shuddered. "The clan needs the information I can find."
"Place your hand on the cards," Nana requested.
Bijou did so while fixing her thoughts on her question. What lay ahead on her quest?
"Not all in the Brotherhood agree with you." Nana flipped through the cards, her speed belying her gnarled, hairy hands.
Did Nana? Bijou wondered. Did she agree that the archives should be opened?
Nana placed a card on the scarred wooden table.
"The Fool?" Bijou asked, distracted.
"We search always for wisdom, child," Nana said. "Now let us see what you cannot change." She held out the cards for Bijou to cut them, then stacked them together again after Bijou lifted the first seven cards and placed them on the silk cloth.
"Ah," Nana said as she placed the Page of Pentacles on the table to her right. "This is who you are. A persevering young scholar."
"I can accept that," Bijou said. "Now what?"
"Your task," Nana said. "Let us see."
"I know the answer to that. It's translation. My life's work."
"You think so?" Her fingers plucked the top card, which showed a wheel surrounded by Egyptian symbols. "The Wheel of Fortune."
"What does that mean? I expected a scholar's card."
"Don't feel sorry for yourself, you must learn to adapt."
"Is that what the card means, or is that your counsel?" Now Bijou was confused, never having studied the tarot herself. She specialized in ancient languages and arcane history older than the tarot.
Nana raised a hand. "Let's finish, so I can read the spread."
Bijou bent her head, pursing her lips as Nana picked the next card and placed it at the bottom of her formation, making a cross.
"Your alternative card," Nana mused, placing Temperance on the table. The card showed an angel, pouring something from one chalice to another.
"Okay?" Bijou had no idea what that meant, other than the word temperance itself, which meant moderation.
"And the last card, your immediate future, is this."
Bijou heard a sharply indrawn breath, and moved her candle close to the cards. "The Nine of Swords?"
Her phone rang as the candle guttered, sending up a plume of smoke.
"Don't answer," Nana hissed, waving the smoke away from her face. "Oh, you poor child."
Bijou frowned. Nana had gotten a little theatrical in her old age, which, as a long-lived shape-shifter, made her a childhood survivor of the American Civil War. "I have to get it. It might be my brother, Cere, back from his honeymoon."
"But this card means sadness, despair," Nana whispered. Her voice, already thin, lowered. "Shame, disgrace."
Bijou didn't really listen as she hit the talk button on her cell phone. "Hello?"
"You'd better come to the state park fast, Bijou," an excited young male voice said.
She couldn't identify the voice because of a number of other excited voices making noise in the background. "Why?"
"We've cornered an alpha."
Bijou would see a man's silhouetted figure writhing on a distant cross for years to come.
Tuesday, July 3rd. Nearly ten p.m., she recorded mentally. The sticky air had a light breeze now, as wind rustled through the trees in the park. The gentle crackling signaled a perfect summer night for all shape-shifters to leave their homes and enjoy nature, even though the full moon was ten days away.
Unfortunately, danger lurked in the night for some. A pack of Brotherhood of the Dog youths had caught the alpha of the Legion werewolf clan dawdling in the summer breeze alone, in human form no less. For alpha Magnus Pompey, it was a recipe for disaster.
The phone call had prompted immediate action for Bijou. She had shifted to wolf form instantly, leaving her clothes torn and forgotten on her porch next to the picnic table where Nana sat with her alarming tarot cards.
This scene in the park could not to be missed or left undocumented.
Unlike the Brotherhood shape-shifters, their age-old enemies, the Legion clan, were only able to take their animal forms with the moon cycle. Even an alpha was no match for werewolves when he was in human form.
Bijou tore through the fields between her home and the park at top speed, the breeze rustling the copper tips of her brown fur. Her heightened senses picked up smells of rabbit and raccoon. Her wolf mind wanted to hunt. The human side of her knew she had more important things to do.
A primitive sight arrested her when she arrived. The day's light had mostly fled and the teens had idiotically shifted to human form to raise a bonfire in the dry grass. Across it, she saw they had built a cross from sturdy young trees and tied the rival alpha to it. He bled from several wounds, some potentially serious in his human form.
Her mind captured everything automatically, her senses trained over her lifetime to perfect recall. In Council, she, the only woman present, would convert her memories to stories that would be shared among the clan.
The teens were fools to be so unguarded around a fully-grown male, even if he couldn't shift. She knew very little about the darkly handsome shape-shifter other than that he was mayor of nearby Cherry Blossom as well as the Legion clan alpha.
In front of her, several of the youths argued hotly over a limp body. Forgetting Pompey for a moment, Bijou leapt forward, knocking her youngest brother Duke onto his butt next to the fallen teen.
"What have you done?" she growled.
The nineteen-year-old bent his head, making sure to keep himself lower than Bijou. "Pompey went nuts when we tied him to the cross. I've never seen anyone so strong in human form. He coldcocked Shamsky." Duke's eyes were bright with appreciation. "We got him, but we're all a little beat up."
"Boys," Bijou snarled, her words muffled in her wolf form, but still intelligible to a shape-shifter. "I'm impressed with your skill but as your clan sister, I don't like the risk you took."
"It didn't seem like a risk at all," Duke argued. "All of us against a Legion weakling who can't shift except under the moon?"
A couple of the boys laughed derisively. With the invincible sense of youth, they didn't understand. The Brotherhood's genetic mutation had made them more flexible as a clan, but it didn't mean other shape-shifters were weak.
"What are you going to do when there is a full moon and Pompey catches sight of any of you?" Bijou asked. "You think you can defeat him then? He knows both your wolf and human faces now. The man is powerful, both in human and shape-shifter spheres."
"We're going to shame him," Duke said, ignoring her concern. "But he's fighting so hard we can't make him stay still long enough to brand him on the ass."
"Release me!" Pompey ordered. His tone was commanding, menacing, but he was the one tied up, not them.
Bijou ignored him for now, though it was hard. He really did have an air of command. Plus his long, muscular body was deliciously naked, since the youths had shredded the clothing from his body. From the look of things, he hadn't been wearing much, just a pair of shorts and a shirt, plus running shoes and socks.
After luxuriantly stretching her back to show her lack of fear, she padded around the campfire, digging up the grass around the fire to create a safe zone. She didn't want it to jump to the nearly dead vegetation and spread. Her brother might be acting foolishly tonight but he was right. If they successfully shamed the alpha, he'd probably leave the area, his clan leadership transferred to a different male. This would not be a bad thing, since Pompey was the strongest man in the Legion clan. The group would be weakened for years. Though if they failed, they were all at risk of further repercussions since no one in the Legion clan would really know what transpired except Pompey.
Especially since Pompey was a force in the human community. Who knew what kind of revenge he'd come up with if the boys ever set foot in his town after this?
She appraised the figure on the cross. Pompey's normally ice-crystal blue eyes were blackening with rage and his powerful hands were bent at the wrist so his clawlike fingernails could grate at the rope holding them to the tree trunk. His potent legs pulled at the bonds there. Eventually he would free himself, assuming the loss of blood didn't weaken him. He might escape without the brand. Very bad idea.
When she caught sight of his mouth-watering phallus, huge despite its flaccid state, she knew what she'd have to do. She stretched one last time, enjoying the greater range of her wolf body, then shifted to her human form.
A gasp came from behind her, when she came up from a crouch as a human woman.
"Damn, you're hot naked, Bijou," said one of the boys who'd shifted back into human form.
Bijou glared at the boy, then quickly turned as she saw his penis bob up to a full erection. At twenty-four, she was far too old to mix it up with Duke's age group. Theoretically, of course, the Brotherhood was accustomed to nudity, but teenagers weren't known for their self-control.
"Take Shamsky and get out of here," she ordered. "Duke, pick two of your more mature friends to stay with you."
"Are you sure? Pompey's a badass."
"That's all we'll need," she said, licking her lips to moisten them.
"Bijou? What are you going to do?" Duke sounded nervous for the first time.
"Don't worry about it," she said absently, walking in front of Pompey. "Put the fire out. And don't watch. It's rude."
The breeze caught a strand of her long fall of coppery hair. She pushed it out of her eyes impatiently, wanting a good look at her quarry.
The shape-shifter was all muscle, she'd have to give him that. Every inch of his luscious form strained for release, though his eyes, now that they met hers, were strangely calm. The black in them would have given away his true identity to any shape-shifter, but to a human he'd simply look extremely angry.
"Untie me, bitch," Pompey ordered.
"Do you know who I am?" she asked, letting a smile dance on her lips.
"Bijou," he said. "The Brotherhood's---"
She smiled wider as he swore. "That's right, I'm the historian. I'm here to record this splendid moment, when a bunch of teenagers took down the Legion's alpha."
He spat. She stepped back neatly.
"Don't wear yourself out, Pompey."
He swore. "No one will believe even you over an alpha's word."
"They will when you're marked," she sang.
His eyes went completely black. "I won't allow it." His tone would have quelled a lesser woman, but Bijou knew she was anything but lesser.
"Yes, you will." She took a step forward, letting him see how her nostrils flared. "I can smell you. You want me."
A little of the black left his eyes as he swallowed hard. Good, she needed him to lose a little of that control that even a moon-bound shape-shifter exercised over their body.
She touched his thickly muscled thigh with one long painted fingernail. It was the only way to hide the somewhat clawlike nails of a shape-shifter even in human form from prying eyes. She could feel his vastus muscles contract even under her nail. He had amazing control.
He strained against his bonds again and she could hear the shifting, snapping sounds of one of the ropes holding his arms. She'd have to act fast.
"Stay away from me," he demanded.
"I'm going to make you beg," she said, running her fingertip down his thigh, around his kneecap to his shin. "I'm going to make you scream."
"Don't."
She smiled, showing her long canines. Her nipples pebbled, demonstrating she was enjoying this as much as he would when he was forced to relax.
"I know you want it." Fast as a speeding werewolf, her hand was behind his penis, capturing his ball sac in a firm grip. She gave it a rolling twist in her fingers, then squeezed gently.
"Don't," he repeated, but he didn't strain against his bonds this time.
She glanced up at him and let her tongue caress her lips. A little more of the black left his eyes. "This can be good or it can be bad. Which do you want?"
"I want you to leave." His voice had a hoarse quality now.
She shook her head. "No, you don't."
"You're wrong," he ground out.
She glanced down, then back up to his eyes. "Your erection tells me otherwise."
His huge cock had inflated as she caressed his balls. The plum tip was pointing straight at her breasts. Bijou's mouth felt dry and she longed to suckle him, caressing those first few drops of pre-cum from him.
Why was she enjoying this so much? she wondered. Suddenly self-conscious, she turned.
"Leave," she ordered again, since none of the teens had moved. One of them even had his cell phone in his hand. She saw he'd kept it in a pouch around his neck, even in wolf form. Was he snapping pictures of them? She raised a clawed hand and made a raking motion.
All but three boys scattered. She growled in satisfaction and turned back to her prey.
"Untie me and I'll give you the pleasure you desire," Pompey said. His blue eyes glittered now.
She smiled. "No, this is all for you. We're going to do it my way."
"I can smell your excitement."
She tossed her head. "My excitement is that of a stalker after prey."
"Liar. Don't you think I can tell the difference? It will be better for you if I'm free."
He was right. Her pussy had moistened, opened. But that wasn't part of the plan. She was simply enjoying her power, that was all. "No, this is the only way to make you docile."
His voice sank to a purr. "I'll make it worth your while."
"I don't think you could."
His voice harshened instantly. "I won't rip your brother from limb to limb if you untie me. You know I'll be free soon."
"You don't scare me, moon boy. I'm in control." To make her point, she squeezed his balls until he gasped.
When she had his attention, she bent down and licked the tip of his spicy hot cock. Its warmth instantly brought a gush of saliva to her mouth...and another rush of sticky heat to her pussy. But this was about control, not sex, she reminded herself. The one way to completely weaken a shape-shifter was to make him come. They needed him weak if they were going to brand him.
Her hair was blocking his view of her attention to his cock, so she loosened her hands from his balls long enough to braid it back. Then she trailed both hands up his massive thighs and gripped his cock.
Even in human form, he was long enough for a two-handed grip. She glanced up playfully and waggled her eyebrows at him, before taking him deep into her throat.
He let out a moan that was closer to a cry as she took him back again. The sky was dark now and the teenagers had banked the fire. She knew Pompey could see somewhat in the dark, so she made sure to put on a show, both visually and audibly.
First he relaxed in his bonds, then tensed as he crept closer to completion. She felt his muscles begin to strain, heard him swallow hard as his hips began to thrust his cock into her willing mouth.
She swirled her tongue around him, coaxing salty sweet drops of cum from his slit.
"Yum," she said, then hummed around his cock.
Her focus on him deepened. The heated scent of his body excited her as much as his growing musk as he strained against her. She used the hand that wasn't controlling his cock to massage his buttocks. He jerked when she danced a claw too close to his anus.
She bit his cock head lightly to remind him who was in charge.
He writhed and thrust harder. She grabbed his hips to maintain control as she took him deep. Almost too soon he began to shudder against her, then cum shot into her throat. She swallowed it down, wondering absently why he smelled and tasted so good when the only thing they had in common was their shape-shifter heritage.
Then, as he sagged in repletion, she took his softening cock back into her hands and let him slip out of her mouth.
"Now," she called.
She heard a low howl as her brother's transformation was complete, and he padded to the cross. Backing away, she saw Duke raise his claws. The wolf slashed Pompey's left butt cheek, leaving four thick claw marks in the tender human skin.
The man didn't make a sound, though it must have hurt.
Wincing, she examined the bonds, wondering how she was going to get him down without a knife. Then she was distracted from the ropes as lights flashed in the distance. She turned, blinking, as a set of headlights came toward them.
Feeling a sudden urge to cover the limp figure, she put her arms around him. Her fingers slipped as they touched the blood on his butt.
With the lights making it nearly as bright as day, she was able to examine her hand. There were teardrop-shaped marks on her fingers. She pulled his skin toward the light. Duke's claw marks had healed. They were still visible, but looked more like a raised tattoo than anything else.
The marks matched those on her fingers.
She growled instinctively. What magic was this?
A low chuckle sounded above her. She moved back a step. Normally surefooted, she stumbled in a chunk of wood from the scattered fire. Her head jerked up, and she found herself gazing into Pompey's ice blue eyes.
His thin, mobile lips curved into a vicious smile. "An alpha cannot be touched without consequences."
"I was trying to help you," she hissed.
"You were trying to shame me," he retorted. "And while you may have succeeded, you bear the same mark now."
"How is it possible?" She heard a door slamming and whirled around. Her mind raced. What if humans were upon them and her naked in a field? The boys had run. She was alone with Pompey. At the very least he would have her arrested. Thank Zeus they were still in Centralia and therefore away from Pompey's power base.
In the light of the headlights, two figures became visible. She relaxed slightly when she saw who they were. King, her alpha, and Barkley, his advisor. Still, she trembled slightly and it couldn't be from the cold, since the July night was warm.
"What do we have here?" asked King. His tall form made even a statuesque woman like Bijou nervous.
"A shaming," she said, holding her hands behind her back.
"You shamed your own mate?" Barkley said. His lean face was slack with shock.
Bijou knew the men were related in some way, which was evident in their height and lean bone structure, but she wasn't sure how.
"What are you talking about?" she said. "Pompey isn't my mate. He's Legion."
"I can see your auras," Barkley said. "They match."
She released her tight grip and held up her left hand. "Look! He used some magic to transfer his shame to me. That's what you are seeing, Advisor."
King stepped forward and grasped her by the wrist. "What is this?"
She could feel the smirk radiating from Pompey.
"Cut him down," King ordered, still holding her.
Barkley pulled out a knife and sawed at Pompey's bonds until he fell, none too gently, to the ground.
Pompey was a picture of masculine grace, even on the ground rubbing the circulation back into his extremities. Bijou turned away.
"Is it possible?" King asked his advisor. "Could he have used some Legion trick to change his aura?"
"No," Barkley said. "They are mates."
"You can't give me to him," Bijou said in a low voice, hoping Pompey wouldn't hear.
Of course he heard every word.
"If he doesn't it's a death sentence for both of us. I'll use my time wisely in destroying the Brotherhood." Pompey's tone was calm, the voice of a leader.
"I'd rather die," she announced, "than mate with the Legion clan."
He pointed at her. "I'm not thrilled with the idea of mating with a Brotherhood bitch myself, but it will have to be done."
"Alpha," she begged, turning to King.
"Perhaps we have grown too inbred," the shape-shifter mused, running his hand through his silvery, copper-tipped hair. "Zeus' cock, that our young would do something so foolish as shame a rival alpha."
Pompey stood. Bijou took an involuntary step back, then stopped herself. What was she going to do, hide behind King? She gritted her teeth and squared her shoulders. Her skills were too important for King to discard. She was the historian.
"Alpha?" she said again.
"Bijou." King's eyes were tired. "Your blood speaks."
She wanted to spit at Barkley's feet, but the advisor had never been wrong before. Surely this was some bloody Roman trick, though. Of all people, a historian knew the clans had once known great magic, now thought forgotten except in tantalizing hints. Why was it impossible that a Roman alpha might still know a trick or two?
"How about a cooling-off period?" she suggested.
"You take one step away from me," Pompey warned, "and I'll have all your cubs arrested, including your brother."
"A coward's approach," she sneered.
"A legal one."
"You would shame yourself in the eyes of not just the clans but the humans too? Admit a group of teenagers could take you?"
He smiled that vicious smile again. "If it would weaken the Brotherhood of the óêõëß, yes." He used the Greek word for dog, the full name of her clan being Brotherhood of the Dog. "It would be worth a shaming to imprison your young, your future."
"I'm not sure you'll keep your position long with that attitude," King said mildly.
"Is the woman mine or not?"
"I've heard you are a hothead and I see nothing to change that opinion," King said. "An alpha can't afford to be rash."
"Your point?" he sneered.
"Let her go home. You have a year to mate. She is worthy of courtship."
Bijou watched Pompey's eyes lose their focus for a moment, as if he considered King's suggestion. Then he shook his head. "I think not. Unfortunately, as the seer senses, my loins cry out for the bitch."
Bijou gasped, her sense of outrage growing. Was she to be mated to a shape-shifter so controlled by his lusts that he'd let a sworn enemy into his midst for no more consideration than sex?
She found him as physically attractive as he found her and it didn't make her want to go through the mating, to bind herself to a Roman! One who kept his brains in his crotch, at that.
Absently, she rubbed her hand over her eyes. The gesture only served to remind her of the new tattoos on her fingers courtesy of mate magic.
"Come," Pompey ordered, holding his hand out to her.
"Bite me," she snarled, and shifted. Her wolf mind came to the forefront, with only one thought. Run!
She dashed across the field, prey before the hunter. How quickly their relative status had changed. If she had given her human mind a moment for thought, she'd have known the gesture useless, her disobedience to King dangerous. But after a lifetime of obedience to the clan, the thought that she was suddenly no better than a throwaway uterus was too much to bear.
She plunged on, the wind in her ears, her only distraction the smell of food. If she could scent out Duke and his companions, they might be able to hide her with the thick hormonal scents of youth. Who could sniff out one female among so many young people?
For a moment, she even wondered if she could perform the mating ceremony with one of them, forestall this insanity. Would the magic take if the incantation were said between two mismatched shape-shifters?
She paused, sniffing the breeze for a hint of her brother. She was at the edge of a parking lot now, so it was hard to smell wolf above or beneath the tar, gas and trash scents of civilization.
A sound in the brush behind her made her turn. A pair of eyes made her shiver until she recognized Asta, her older brother.
He padded toward her. "Duke called me. He heard Barkley's words as he ran." His copper-tipped reddish fur rubbed against her. She leaned her body against him for a moment.
"Can you hide me?"
"You know I cannot."
"No, I don't know that," she hissed. "We are family."
"You have a mate now." His large eyes were sad. "I am sorry, Bijou, sorry to see you go."
"But my children will be Legion," she said. "Please."
He rested his head on her neck. "I am sorry."
She folded herself to the ground in defeat, then shifted back to human form. If they came on her as a wolf she knew she would fight and it wouldn't do to face off with King. Even wronged, she wouldn't be suicidal, even if this were the end of her hopes, her dreams of translating the clan scrolls. The tarot had been right. She was doomed.
Distantly, she heard the howls, then voices, of those who had come to collect her. Finally, her limp, unresisting body was slung over a strong shoulder, then tossed into a car that had driven up.
He is weak, she thought with a sneer. Too hurt by my brother and his friends to carry me across the park. What other weaknesses might she exploit in the days to come?
The rhythm of the car lulled her to sleep as someone drove her the several miles to Cherry Blossom. She wondered if anyone would think to fetch her personal possessions from her home, but decided not to care. It was all she could do to stiffen her resolve, to keep the tears from flowing, to ignore her situation.
\*
She came awake to the sound of a metallic creaking, a garage door opening. The car paused, then pulled smoothly into a cool, dark space. She relaxed back against the seat cushion. After all, she had nothing to look forward to.
Eventually, the door opened, and she heard Pompey's detestable voice. "Come, my dove."
She ignored his foul attempt at humor.
"If I drag you out of there you're going to be as banged up as I am."
She sighed. "Isn't this far enough for one night?"
"I wouldn't have thought you were the type to sulk, given your reputation."
She was mildly interested by this idea. "I have a reputation?"
Could you actually hear a grin? "Yes and I'll tell you what it is if you come into the house with me."
"You're too hurt to force me out, aren't you?" she said with satisfaction. "Otherwise you wouldn't bother coaxing me."
She was mildly surprised with herself for speaking, but the darkness of the garage made her feel safe, gave her a little of her own power back.
"Do you really want to find out what kind of shape I'm in?" he asked. "I might surprise you."
His tone set her nerves on edge. Did she really want to see if he would drag her bodily out of the car? She could shift back into wolf form and tear him to pieces. He wouldn't be able to fight her then, unless he had a gun handy.
But killing him was a death sentence for her too. That was the problem with true mates. She swung her legs to the carpeted floor of the car. Once she was sitting up she put her hands to her head.
She heard his voice closer and turned to see he had crouched in the doorway of the car. "Come in, Bijou. I don't bite."
"Not tonight," she said nastily, thinking of the many days to the full moon.
"Not tonight," he agreed. "Let's get this over with. Stop pouting."
"I'm not pouting!"
"Then what do you call it?"
"Considering my options."
"You don't have any, except sitting in the garage alone or coming inside. I admit the temperature isn't bad in here, but still, it isn't exactly comfortable."
"I don't need comfort."
"I've had a long night and I prefer comfort under most circumstances anyway. So I'm going in."
She heard him walk away. A door opened and shut. Perhaps she was being childish. Sweat from the heat of the night was making her stick uncomfortably to the car seat. The sensation was not a pleasant one. What had been pleasant-tasting was his penis in her mouth, his smooth, spicy flesh so hard and warm against her tongue. Moisture pooled between her thighs, and she jumped out of the car hastily before that too could adhere to the car seat.
The garage door opened into his kitchen, a warm, pleasant room with Roman red backsplashes around the appliances. Curious, she opened his refrigerator. His tastes ran to Italian salami and gourmet cheeses, along with a lot of different greens and peppers.
Off in the distance she heard water running. He must be taking a shower. She stretched. A shower sounded good, actually. She closed the refrigerator and leaned against it, thinking.
Why not leave? He was tired and she might get a night at home alone, or even could run quite far before he came looking. She had a sneaking suspicion that he'd find her though, eventually. Plus, his arrogance might send him after her tonight, even wounded. What if he were killed looking for her?
Neither plan would help her achieve her goal. She wanted to be back in the Brotherhood archives, and neither one final night alone nor a furtive escape would help her achieve that. Would staying with Pompey get her what she wanted? Was there any hope of persuading King that a Legion mate could be trusted to continue translating the archives? Most likely not, especially with Council opposition to any translation of ancient documents strong in the first place.
The water stopped. Instinctively, she tensed, pressed herself against the refrigerator. She closed her eyes, realizing she sensed Pompey's heat even from a distance. How could her body have betrayed her so? Didn't it realize her intellect had a higher calling?
Without thought, she crossed the house toward the shower, noting rooms with hardwood floors and leather furniture. No softness, no female presence. Perhaps she would at least escape the embarrassment of fighting a current girlfriend for Pompey.
At an archway leading to a hall, she found a marble goddess statue, quite worn, quite old. Minerva, she believed. She was slightly comforted to see the Goddess of Wisdom in his home, instead the Goddess of Love. Perhaps she could reason with the man. Of course, Minerva could be there as the Goddess of War. That would suit the alpha of the Legion better, perhaps.
Outside the bathroom door, she paused.
"Come in," Pompey said impatiently. "I know you're there and I can use your help."
Bijou let her eyes fall closed for a moment. Of course he could sense her. Any adult shape-shifter could do that.
She pushed open the unlocked bathroom door and saw delight.
Not just the powerfully built man, naked except for a slip of thin towel at his waist, leaning over his bare leg, which was propped up on a campaign stool. The bathroom itself was a sybaritic delight.
A large square, the room had soft lighting and softer jazz playing from hidden speakers. The mosaic walls were decorated with dancing fish. In the center was an enormous tiled bathtub. Bijou's sore body yearned to dip itself in the tub's depths.
At the far end of the room was an opening with a darker shell and crab pattern peeking out on the floor. She saw a line of wet footsteps leading from that to where Pompey stood.
"It's a spiral shower," he said, dismissing the enticing space. "It circles around itself like a shell until you reach the towels and controls in the center. Come and help me with this bandage."
She frowned and took the butterfly bandage. "You were cut badly enough to need medical care?"
"I'll heal fast enough, just like one of you dogs, but the ropes cut fairly deep."
She winced when she saw the abrasions around his ankle and bent to inexpertly close the worst one with the butterfly.
"They went too far," she said softly.
"You wounded me the worst."
She swallowed hard, refusing to meet his eyes. "I didn't know you were my mate."
"It doesn't matter anyway. This shaming, when it gets out, will probably mean the end of my life."
"Why? No Legion clansman could fight off a pack of us in human form."
"And yet," Pompey said.
"What would they expect? That you fall on your sword instead of submit to us? Assuming you even had a weapon handy?"
"You are a scholar, not a warrior, and a woman at that. You can't understand."
Without thinking, her hand moved to his face in order to administer a hard slap. He caught her wrist in his hand just as quickly. When she looked at it, she was shocked to see her hand was that of a wolf.
"You can even perform a partial shift," he said with admiration. "I hadn't seen that before."
"Release me," she ordered. "No member of the Brotherhood is just anything. I can fight."
With a sneer, he let go.
She considered what he'd done. "How can you be strong enough to have caught me, shifted like that?"
"We are superior to you dogs in some ways. You can't fight us under the moon because of our strength."
"I suppose you did knock the brains out of poor Shamsky," she mused.
"Such limited brains as he has." He handed her another bandage, and lifted his other leg so she could pull the torn edges of the worst abrasion there together as well.
"What are our options? You think you'll be challenged as alpha when the word gets out?"
"Of course."
She could tell she was hurting him as she bandaged, but he didn't flinch. Only the skin around his eyes tightened. "Then I'll die too." She sighed. "No wonder you were so insistent on taking me now. You want to get a child from me before I die too."
"Can you blame me?" he asked. "On the other hand, maybe I just really want to fuck you."
"Are there other Legion clansman with your strength?" she asked, ignoring his crudity. "Is there anyone who can defeat you?"
"My cousin Cassius might be able to hurt me on a good day, but he would never try. I only have one true rival, Brutus."
"His chances?" She took another bandage, noticing that a slice along his calf was starting to heal. Even if he couldn't shift without the moon's guidance, he did still have a shape-shifter's healing ability.
Pompey gritted his teeth as she pulled the edges of the deep wound together. "A fair one, but I wouldn't give him the best odds."
"Will he fight honorably or sneak attack?"
When she was done with the bandages, he sat on the leather-slung stool and put his hands on his knees. "That depends on how angry he is that my father took the alpha role from his."
Bijou winced. "Was it a good fight?"
"Yes, but my father was murdered a year ago. It wouldn't surprise me if Brutus' uncle was behind the attack. He isn't strong enough to defeat me in battle, but he would advise Brutus to give it a shot."
"You're mayor of Cherry Blossom as well," she observed.
"As was my father before me. He was mayor before he was alpha."
"I have to imagine it is to the Legion's benefit to keep you in power," she said. "Having a role in human politics means you have great latitude to keep shape-shifters a secret from the humans."
"Agreed. But I don't want to think about politics tonight." He took her hand, drawing her forward.
She resisted, even as her nipples betrayed her by jutting out at the touch of his hand. He widened his stance and pulled harder with his superior male strength, so she was forced to move between his legs.
She pointed at the heavy flesh between his legs. "At least you can't say I damaged you there."
He smiled, his canines showing. "You merely whetted my appetite with that talented mouth of yours."
She flushed, as his cheerful leer made her clit twitch. She tightened her legs, but that just made the sensation stronger.
Her discomfort widened his smile. "Are you a virgin, scholarly Bijou?"
"No," she said, surprised. "But I've never been with one of us, a shape-shifter."
"Oh?" he said, tracing a pattern on her wrist. "You prefer humans for your love play?"
She licked her dry lips before speaking. "It was in college. I went to school back east, even though the clan was against it. But I wanted a really solid classical education and there was a renowned professor at a school outside Boston at the time."
"How?" he inquired. "Since you slept with this human? You don't seem a woman who has experienced physical love recently."
She flushed. "Three years, actually, since he died. But I studied with him for two years." She stopped, unwilling to say more. He didn't need to know about the archives. In fact, that would hurt her case with King.
"Little Bijou, more interested in study than love."
"I wonder why," she muttered, when this was the love she had to look forward to, an unwanted, forced mating. Why couldn't the phone have waited to ring until after Nana had finished explaining the cards? What had that Nine of Swords meant? She wanted more information than those four damning words, sadness, despair, shame and disgrace. Did she have no happiness to look forward to?
She found it hard to focus. Of course her body would respond to Pompey's, a perfect specimen of Roman manhood. But her mind resented him no end, even if he appeared to be a man of power and taste, not just a brutal alpha male.
"Did you like fucking that little human?" he asked, moving his hand to her hip. "Have you touched one since?"
She shook her head. Of course this would be his only concern. How male.
"No." His hand on her flesh seemed to create a molten sensation under her skin, as if her blood had thickened and began to spread through her body. "I'd like to take a shower. I'm sticky."
"You're afraid of me," he said, his eyebrow lifted.
She kept her voice calm, but it was a struggle. "I'd just like a shower."
He took his hand from her hip, brushing up her body to the edge of her breast as he lifted. "Poor, frightened little wolf."
She steeled herself. "I'm not afraid. I'd just like to be fresh."
He chuckled. "A delay tactic. I can smell your arousal, but you'd like to wash it away." He leaned forward. "Let me tell you, it will only make it worse to run that wet sponge around your clit as you clean yourself. But go ahead, little wolf, I can wait. For a short while."
"I'm not little," she growled, then stepped toward the spiral shower, knowing her hips were twitching in a sexy little dance despite herself.
The shower was a warm, damp cave, with recessed lights offering only minimal illumination. She stepped down the curves of the shell-like space, running her fingers along the sea shapes in the walls, the rough mosaic gently abrading her skin.
In the center of the shell was a circular central space with a selection of washcloths, towels and sponges in a clear glass cabinet, as well as the apparatus for turning on the water. When she turned it, nothing happened in the center space, but she heard water flowing. She took a sponge and stepped back into the spiral.
Warm water misted from hidden nozzles in the mosaic and above in the ceiling. Each spray was different.
Like a car wash, she thought unromantically, but the truth was, she was charmed by the design. The water soothed the tight muscles in her neck and back and other nozzles were perfect for cleansing more intimate areas.
One nozzle caught her directly on her mons as she walked along the gantlet of water. She paused, allowing it to drum against her. All she'd have to do is separate her own lips and let the water sweep her away to climax.
But she didn't want to come to Pompey hot and ready, all wanting. If she let herself enjoy the water, give herself the orgasm, she'd come to him already open, her legs trembling with desire.
She stepped away from the nozzle, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Better pain than pleasure in this unwanted mating.
As she stepped along the spiral again, her thoughts went despite herself to the images of Pompey's taut form, and her body readied itself despite her mind's wishes. She was a traitor to herself.
Where had Pompey been in her reading? Bijou wondered, as she toweled herself off in the still-steamy center of the spiral. Surely if the cards had shown her fate his card might have shown up.
Her limited knowledge of the tarot didn't allow her to recognize which card he was but she expected he would be a King of something. Would he be Swords, or Cups, Pentacles or Wands?
Swords or Wands, she expected, her mind immediately going to his penis. Her vaginal walls clenched with the thought. She didn't want to be wet, but the alpha---her mate---was a beautiful man and it had been so long since she'd had sex.
Would it be different with a shape-shifter? As she toweled off her hair, she remembered her past sexual experiences as if in a film montage. Her professor lover had been older, far past the quick delights of youth. She had become a master at oral pleasure under his tutelage and a recipient of long, luxurious lovemaking that she had been told was unlike sex with a young man.
Pompey wasn't old or young. Shape-shifters didn't show age like humans, aging in tune with their longer lifespan. He could be anything from forty to sixty years of age. Her vagina clutched again as she considered what sexual tricks he had learned in those years. Would he have both control and passion?
With more eagerness than reluctance, she left the shower, dropping her towel into a marble and steel laundry chute at the far end of the room. She wished she had a robe to use to shield herself.
Her thighs rubbed moistly against each other as she padded across the long room. Where was Pompey? She had no idea how the house was laid out, only that it rested deep on its lot and it was much larger inside than it appeared from the street. An alpha's home, it probably had subterranean cellars, as well, for clan storage.
She followed the scent of his body down a thickly carpeted hallway she hadn't been though earlier, then turned into a room filled with books. A library, but not one that contained her kind of material, she noted, scanning the shelves lit by recessed lights in the tops of the cases. The books were history, for the most part, but all written by humans. Of course the alpha wouldn't leave precious clan records aboveground where they could be stolen or easily damaged.
Pompey's scent had entered the room, but she couldn't figure out where he'd gone from here. She walked slowly around the room, stopping to spin a globe that stood by itself in an alcove of glass. Beyond must be a garden. Had he gone outside? There was a door here. No, she didn't think so, and she saw a red blinking light above, indicating the door was protected by security and would most likely squeal an alarm if she opened it.
She circled the room again, feeling increasingly frustrated. Eventually, she started pressing the walnut-paneled walls, looking for some mechanism to open a secret door. There had to be another exit.
After twenty minutes she started putting her entire body against the panels, stretching her arms wide against them as she baby-stepped around the room. If he was so eager to have her, why wasn't he coming to find her? She felt nothing on any of the panels to the left of the glass alcove, but then, as her torso was at the halfway point along the next wall, she felt thin raised lines against her fingertips. She leaned her body back and attempted to trace the lines, but they were gone.
Were they responding to her body in some way? Her scholar's mind thrilled to the chase. She pressed her breasts and hips into the wood, getting as much body contact as she could. Even her cheek pressed the cool surface. Yes! She smiled as she felt the raised lines again. They extended as high as she could reach and as low.
But what did they mean? She took a deep sniff. Could she smell Pompey against the dratted door? What did he mean by this game? First demanding her, then hiding from her.
She raised her leg and slammed her foot against the wall. "Let me in!"
Air caressed her legs as the panel tilted away from her. She stepped forward into a lamp lit room.
"You truly are my mate," said a languid voice.
Pompey lay on a huge bed, propped up on pillows. He held a glass of wine in his hand.
"Why did you hide from me?" she demanded.
His expression was serious. "I don't understand the mechanism, but this house has stood for three generations. Only the Legion's alpha and his mate can open that door."
"How unusual," Bijou said, her mind processing the possibilities. "Science or magic?"
Pompey took a sip from his glass. The deep red wine lapped at the edges of the fine crystal as he placed it on a table next to the bed. "You passed the test. Does it matter?"
"I like to know things," Bijou said.
"Then aren't you curious about how it will be between us?" he asked. "How true mates make love?"
She remembered the stickiness between her legs. Her skin suddenly felt tight. "I know how it will be."
"Your voice has grown husky with desire, mate," he said.
"You will never know me," she said, knowing she must deny him something or lose herself into the despair Nana mentioned the cards showed in her immediate future. "You will only join with my body."
"Come," Pompey said, holding out a long-fingered hand. "Let us join then."
Bijou exhaled sharply through her nostrils. Her feet moved as if of their own accord, taking steps around the other side of the bed. She sat down on lush, soft sheets of cream-colored Egyptian cotton. The bed was padded but firm enough that she didn't sink clumsily into it as she scooted toward the center.
Pompey turned to her then placed his heavy right leg over hers. His lips came down on her mouth. He moved his fingers up her arm toward her sensitive armpit while his tongue caressed her lips.
She opened her mouth to him and his tongue swept inside. Her body creamed at his thrust into her mouth and she heard herself whimper, surrendering entirely to the kiss. Her free hand went to his head and she ran her fingers through his midnight black hair.
Then her eyes widened as she smelled more than just lust on his flesh, more than wine on his mouth. A faint hint of battle emanated from his pores. The next thing she felt was a warm pelt encircling her right wrist.
She jerked her arm away from him. Her wrist jarred as she hit the end range of the chain holding her bound arm to the headboard. She braced herself and tugged. As a shape-shifter she ought to be able to break any chain, but it didn't give.
Silver. The fur-lined bracelet encircling her must have silver at its core.
"Bastard!" she hissed.
"Consider it insurance." A sneer displayed his teeth. "I won't be vulnerable to you again, mate."
"We are bound to another as it is," she said. "Why are you doing this?"
His mouth thinned. "My dear Bijou, how could you have thought I'd trust you?"
"I came to you, willing to have sex," she protested.
"You think I can't smell lust on you as thickly as your mistrust? You think I can't tell how hard that powerful female brain of yours is working, considering ways to escape?"
"I won't be caged like an animal." She tried to make her voice sound sensible, to cut his madness.
"You will be bound until we are mated." He loomed over her. "Until the ceremony is complete."
"You're insane!" she shouted.
He touched his temple. "Anything but. I'm a strategist."
She lowered her voice, trying to match his calm. "You make an enemy of me."
"How can the woman who shamed me be any more of an enemy?"
She fought for control. "Move on. We have a new reality to face now."
"And it will be new again when we have mated." He clutched at her thigh with his strong fingers. "Submit to me, mate."
"Is this not enough submission?"
He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "No."
She watched as he moved off the bed, his back turned away from her. The lights went out, leaving nothing but a candle burning at the foot of the bed. She saw him pass through the light then back into shadow.
While she tried to figure out what he was doing, her other hand was snatched into a powerful grip, then she felt a second cuff attach to her other wrist.
"You'd better get my feet too," she growled. "If you cherish your life, that is."
"I don't need to bind your legs. It was only your claws that concerned me. Why is it, do you suppose, that we don't have claws for toenails like we do for fingernails?"
She heard a sliding noise along the sheet, moving away from her.
"Then again, maybe you Greeks do have clawed toes."
She kicked out, but Pompey caught her by the ankle in midair. Holding her firmly, he ran his fingers along the bottom of her foot and caressed her toes.
Damn! She'd always been a sucker for foot rubs and she almost never got them. Her leg lost its rigidity. After examining her toes, he pressed the pads of his fingers into her arch. She moaned.
"Like that, do you?" he said, putting down one foot and taking the other.
She forgot to kick this time. He caressed her other foot in both warm hands, then massaged both feet in tandem. She felt herself relaxing into the truly superior sheets.
"You can't win me over with foot rubs," she mumbled.
He moved away for a moment, with only the lightest touch connecting them, then was back, smoothing a musky lotion into her foot.
"You've got to be kidding me," she said.
He said nothing, but continued to massage her feet, then moved to her Achilles tendon. By the time he reached her inner thighs she was willing to let him do anything he wanted to her. Would he massage her pussy with that divinely rich lotion as well? Her clit twitched and her body released some of its own lubricant at the mere thought.
"The skin is the largest organ of the body, you know," Pompey said. "As shape-shifters we ask a good deal of it, with our fur moving in and out of our pores. We need to care for it."
"I hope you don't expect me to return the favor," she said.
He slapped her mons gently. She bit back a moan, not sure she liked her reaction.
"Don't be rude," he chided. "I don't have to be this kind. You certainly weren't."
"You have me chained to the wall," she pointed out.
"Your brother and his friends had me tied to a cross." He put his hands on her waist and jerked her down the bed until her arms were at their greatest extension. Her skin stretched, making her breasts ache in a delicious way.
She was afraid she was beginning to like this a little too much. Was submission part of being a true mate?
"Let's get this over with, shall we?" she said. "Here, I'll help you out." She spread her legs on the bed, bending her knees slightly. He'd get the picture, right?
"How badly do you want it?" he asked, tracing something on her belly.
"Mmmm," she said.
"I can't understand you."
She knew that, she just didn't want to admit her desire. Somehow, she knew that would be the worst part.
He moved his hands up her belly, stroking gently. She closed her eyes, relaxing into the sensual touch then ouch! Her eyes flew open and she gasped for air. He'd pinched her nipples, and hard!
"What'd you do that for?"
"You weren't talking."
She flung her head back. "You're one hell of a control freak."
"One thing we can agree on, Bijou." He sat down next to her. She rolled slightly on the bed. "This is my idea of hell."
"It is? You don't get off on teasing me?"
He ran a claw lightly across one turgid nipple. She fought to stop the involuntary arch that had her breast caressing his hand.
"Sure, I'm enjoying this." She saw him swallow. "But it's not what I wanted on the night I took a mate. However, this is what I've got."
He moved swiftly and before she'd taken another breath, his heavy body was on her, his cock probing her nether lips.
As he pushed at her sensitive clit with his rod then slid down her pussy to prod her channel, he grasped her legs under her knees with his large hands, exposing her fully to his first powerful thrust.
She bit back a scream as he entered her and she began to come, her entire body shaking. Even as her body jerked with pleasure, she distantly hated the power he had over her.
He had barely begun. Kneeling between her legs, he pulled her toward him with each thrust, fighting the silver chains that kept her attached to the bed. Her body stretched unbearably, pleasurably, turning her mind to jelly.
The shaking left by her powerful orgasm didn't stop. Her mind separated from her body but she couldn't ignore his cock inside her and her energy gathered around her pussy, spiraling inside her before it could explode.
She whimpered from the pleasure of his cock pounding her pussy, his long glides, his upward thrusts. When he released her right knee, she locked her ankle around his neck but before she could pull him toward her he had his palm on her mons, pressing down directly above her clit.
She spasmed again as he said, "You may not love me, but by Jupiter, you will want me." Then he pulled her leg against his chest. She locked her ankles around his neck as he thrust one last time. With another oath he pumped his hot seed deep into her.
Even then, he didn't trust her, but remained upright, his chest heaving in the dim light.
"It's time," he said.
For the mating, she knew. "Are you going to mark me like a slave, chained to your bed?"
His harsh breath stilled. "Will you give me your word that you will not run?"
"I haven't the strength left in me."
"That's not what I asked."
She tightened her mouth, feeling the prick of tears against her eyes, the death of dreams, her sated pussy. "I won't run."
He leaned over her, pushing her into the mattress while he fumbled with the lock of first one chain, then another.
She sighed with relief as her wrists were released and she could move her arms to her chest. Massaging each wrist in turn felt heavenly. When she was certain she didn't have any silver burns, she rolled over on the bed.
"What are you doing?"
The pillow muffled her voice. "Exposing my cheek."
Her head snapped back as he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her off the bed. She stumbled against the nightstand and toppled against the wall.
"What was that for?" Only with effort did she keep herself from shifting, attacking.
"You try my patience. I won't have you behaving this way, like a spoiled child."
"You chained me on the bed. I assumed you didn't respect the ritual any more than you respect me."
"That was payback. This is our mating ceremony."
She stepped away from the wall, crossing her arms across her chest, still feeling the prickles that her second orgasm had painted across her skin.
"Do you want to start the chant?" she asked sullenly.
"It will be in Latin."
"You do yours, then I'll do mine."
"Fine." He bent his head, then started speaking in a monotone.
As he spoke the words she recognized even in his clan's ancient tongue, she saw his hand begin to lengthen. Even a Roman could partially shift for a mating, she discovered. The chant must have true magic. Intriguing. She wondered what that meant.
As he stretched his claws toward her she turned slightly, so he could mark her right butt cheek. The pain pricks lasted but a moment. The magic would leave a tattoo there, a wolf paw print. She wondered if it would look the same as those of her clan, but it was too dim to see such an awkward angle.
She lifted her own arm and began her chant in Greek. Since she had claws of her own she could mark him, unlike the recent ceremony between her brother Cere and his human mate. The words came quickly since she had heard them at least a dozen times in her life and soon her own lengthy claws were extending toward his still-turgid cock.
A brave man, to leave his cock so exposed to my claws.
At the warning light in her eyes, he turned his cheek toward her and waited for the bite of pain.
She bit deeply into his flesh, knowing the tattoo would look the same regardless of his pain. He needed the warning.
Her chant finished, she stepped back. They were mated.
He said nothing. She leaned back against the wall, not sure what to do next. In her clan there would be a feast, perhaps a nuptial trip. But in this case there was nothing of celebration in their joining.
She half turned against the wall, feeling smooth paint under her fingertips. Then his hand was on her shoulder, her head against the wall.
"You do know that pre-mating sex won't impregnate a shape-shifter," he rasped against her ear.
"That was payback," she muttered, having a hard time forming words with her cheek pressed against the hard surface.
He thrust his hand between her legs, rubbing his fingers in their mingled juices. "You're still wet."
"You want a baby now?" She bit back a curse as he touched her swollen, sensitive clit.
"No time like the present. That shaming you participated in may give me very little time."
She knew he was right and if he died, she may only have a year to live herself. Better to have a child with a stranger now than die barren.
"Take me."
His grunt held a little surprise but he made no comment as she braced her forearms against the wall.
His hands, now human but still claw-tipped, clasped her hips, pulling her pelvis toward him. She'd never had sex this way before. Would they still fit together so smoothly?
His cock probed her channel through the space between her legs. Her weeping lips gave him smooth access for a powerful thrust that left her gasping, clenching her channel around him. He let go of her hips and grabbed for her breasts.
She could do nothing but rock her hips against him, eager for the next time his cock touched the tip of her womb. How could something that always seemed so sacred to her, the creation of a child, be so hot, so dirty?
But she didn't feel shamed, she felt glorious. His thrusts hit someplace deep inside her, some pleasure spot that had her mind careless of all consequences.
She rose on her tiptoes, anxious to give him access to all of her, the primitive need to get his seed as deeply inside her as possible moving her body. He grabbed her hips again and her torso pushed against the cool wall. The rough texture grated against her breast and belly. Senses overwhelmed, her mind spiraled and broke to pieces.
Shuddering as she came back to herself, she felt him grip so hard that he broke her skin with his claws, his cock plowing into her with rough, untutored thrusts. Sticky wetness filled her channel.
Bijou put her forehead against the wall and rested, panting. Hopefully it would be enough. Her body shook so hard she wasn't sure she would survive another mating that night. She collapsed to her knees with him, his cock still deep inside her.
When Bijou woke the next morning, she knew it hadn't happened. Her body still felt empty, a vessel unfilled. She wasn't carrying the alpha's heir. What would the consequences be for her?
She turned her head against the pillow, searching for the dark head of her mate. The other side of the bed was vacant, though she could still smell the musk of their third violent mating. Soreness between her legs also belied the dreamlike memories of their night together. The ache aroused her and she felt her channel soften. Perhaps if she enticed him into bed again he'd let her leave for a while. Regardless, she would enjoy having him again. Though rough, as shape-shifters often were, she couldn't deny the pull he had on her body or the incredible orgasms she'd enjoyed. Maybe it had been a mistake to remain celibate after her return from college but she'd wanted to be the historian, an observer, not get caught up in relationships. Though Pompey was her first shape-shifter, she suspected he had serious bedroom skills even by the standards of her own kind.
The way her thoughts were leading she knew she'd been hooked. Restless, she wondered where Pompey was.
She sat up and pulled the sheet around herself since she didn't know if Pompey had a housekeeper or other staff around. The panel leading into the library was more clearly marked on this side of the wall and she easily found her way into the main house.
She wandered, investigating sparsely furnished spare bedrooms, a den, a weight room, meeting areas and dining spaces. The house was hushed, waiting. And empty. Just like her.
Pompey had apparently left for the day without so much as a note to the mate he'd been so desperate to claim. Stopping in front of a wall mirror in a hallway, she pulled up the sheet and examined her new tattoo. Five perfect marks like a paw print. Nothing had been a dream. Even the tear marks on her fingers were still there.
She frowned, irritated. What did Pompey expect of her now? She couldn't just stay here in the house twiddling her thumbs. Didn't they have a wedding to plan? As mayor of the mostly human town of Cherry Blossom, the mayor's mate would have a ceremonial function, if nothing else.
Then again, maybe he wanted to keep her a secret. Her mind worked furiously as she went to the kitchen. What was the advantage of that for him or her? One thought came to her. She could blackmail him into letting her go home!
Hungry, she searched the cabinets but couldn't find anything appropriate for breakfast. She didn't want salami or salads at this time of day and that was all she could find. After a few minutes, she went back to find some clothes. She had a moment of panic at the library wall, wondering if the magic would work if Pompey wasn't present, but she could enter the bedroom.
Pompey had a selection of exercise clothes neatly folded in a bureau. As she pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt she wondered if King would allow her to claim abandonment at the stage of the game. Would her alpha allow her to return to the Brotherhood? She was desperate enough to find out. Her career goals were more important than being a mate.
She wanted access to the clan's ancient scrolls. Did the Brotherhood archives have information about magic walls? What about mating magic? Was there a way to break the bond? She'd committed to, and trained for, a life of research and observation, not mating and motherhood. Her fingers itched to get back around old linen. Maybe the ancient scrolls held information that would free her from her vanished mate.
\*
"You seem a little distracted this morning," Julian said, leaning against Magnus Pompey's desk in the mayor's office.
"The middle school band is warming up right outside my window," Magnus told his rival Brutus' uncle, wincing at an out of tune woodwind. "The Fourth of July parade begins in an hour."
"I've never known you to lack concentration before," Julian said, his long face placid.
Magnus well knew the ugly thoughts hiding underneath that blank countenance. Julian always had an angle. "What did you want to see me about? A discussion about the planned wildlife preserve again?"
"I simply wanted to make sure you had safeguards on the hiring process for the wardens so the new hires would always be Legion. The preserve won't do us any good if humans get wind that wolves are using the preserve and eating the protected animals."
"Is that your goal, or are you hoping to ensure your own relatives get hired?" Magnus snapped, checking his watch. Almost parade time. Riding around in a hot car all day waving at his constituents was not his idea of fun, particularly when he had a luscious mate waiting for him at home. Well, perhaps not waiting. More like furious, really, that he'd left her sleeping when he made his escape. He'd thought about waking her but he honestly couldn't think of anything to say. There had been no choice about leaving. He had to appear for a number of ceremonial functions during the Fourth of July festivities.
He had yet to figure out how to explain his mate to the Legion without the shaming creeping in somehow. Perhaps the Brotherhood would keep the details to themselves, since it had ended in him taking one of their own as mate. A politician would at least keep the shaming secret until an opportune moment. He had to hope the Brotherhood were strategists.
For now, it was best to keep Bijou a secret. Besides, the seat next to him in the parade car would be taken by the Cherry Blossom Princess. That the mayor had a new "girlfriend" would be hot news to the locals, but today was about the pageant winner.
"My relatives are qualified." Julian permitted himself a small smile. "Brutus had specialized game management training in South Africa."
"I know," Magnus said, wriggling uncomfortably on his seat. The mating tattoo had no ill effects, but for some reason the shaming tattoo hurt. Additionally, his cock had been at half-mast all day, pressing uncomfortably on the zipper of his gray slacks. He had a long day ahead of him before he could return to his mate and slake his lust.
"So, will he get the job?" Julian asked.
"It isn't an appointed position," Magnus said. "I will ensure he is considered, of course." If Brutus were busy managing his dinner-on-the-hoof, maybe he'd forget his lust for other forms of power. Then Magnus could focus on more important things than keeping control of the Legion's malcontents. Like pleasuring his reluctant mate.
Julian held out a thin hand. "That's all I'm asking. A fair chance."
Magnus heard the implication in the older shape-shifter's words. His family didn't play fair. Yes, his father, the senior Pompey, had been a bastard, but he was dead now, hit by a military vehicle on the freeway. Magnus had always believed there was more to the story, but his father wasn't missed so it didn't make sense to investigate too carefully.
"I need to get out to the parade," Magnus said, shaking the proffered hand. "I'm giving a speech before it begins."
"Of course." Julian saluted him in the manner of a Roman legionnaire. "Si vis pacem, para bellum."
"In time of peace, prepare for war," Magnus paraphrased. "Yes, I have to continually campaign and give speeches in election years. For the good of the Legion."
"I remember," Julian said, reminding Magnus that he had been mayor twenty years before. Now he was old by human standards, nearly ninety, and couldn't serve in public life for fear of too many questions from the humans. He had to operate behind the scenes, a shadow player.
\*
"But he abandoned me," Bijou said, sitting in her alpha's kitchen, a mug of coffee at her elbow.
"You can't expect me to agree with you," King said. He set his mug down with a clang. "The fact that he'd left your bed, his home, on one morning doesn't qualify."
"It's the first morning after our mating and he disappeared without so much as a note!"
"It's not respectful, but you didn't get off on the best foot either."
Bijou made a face. "I don't want to be Legion. I belong here, with the Brotherhood. I'm the only one with the right education to translate the scrolls."
"Those scrolls have gone untranslated for as long as anyone remembers," King reminded her. "It hasn't harmed us."
"But maybe the information they contain would help. The Legion has magic," she blurted.
Bijou could have sworn she saw the coppery tips of King's silver hair rustle. "Magic?"
"Yes. In Pompey's house."
King narrowed her eyes. "Report."
"A door that keys only to the body of an alpha and his mate." She put her hands up, forming a rectangle with her fingers.
"It could be science."
She shook her head. "It wasn't. I could sense the difference."
"So the rumors of magic are true?" King mused.
"Yes. Why couldn't the legends be true?" she asked.
"We are told we lost our magic so we could hide undetected among the growing hordes of humanity."
"If that's true then why does the Legion still have it? It gives them an edge. Already they control a human town."
"Romans," King said bitterly. "They always have to be in charge."
"So? Can I stay?" Bijou kept her face blank despite her increasing heart rate.
"I'll talk to him. But it is a death sentence to you," King said somberly, his silver brown eyes glittering. "You won't last more than a year apart."
"If I go back to him, make our mating public, Barkley will never allow me into the archives. The clan might lose face, make it look like we were giving away secrets. Right now there is still time, while Pompey is keeping me a secret."
"And you want knowledge more than life?"
"Maybe there will be an answer to my problem in the scrolls," Bijou said. It didn't trouble her at all that King was willing to sacrifice her life for a year of research in the archives.
"Pompey may have told people by now." King glanced at a clock on the wall. "He may also be shamed, even cast out of the Legion after last night, but he will never be able to join our clan. Don't consider that one of your options."
"Why not? If he's out of the Legion." That would be the solution to all her problems. A sexy mate and a place with her family.
"He's an alpha. I won't have a rival in the Brotherhood. I won't invite a Roman. You are Legion now, or will be when he makes your mating public."
Bijou took a deep breath while King considered.
"Go home for a few hours, organize your affairs, get prepared. I will speak to Pompey, but it is his decision. You wear his mark?"
Bijou grimaced. "Yes and he wears mine, as well as his shame."
King nodded. "I would know of this magic. We will see how he responds."
At least I have a year to safely be apart from Pompey, Bijou thought. Anything could happen in a year.
\*
Late that evening Magnus climbed out of his SUV in front of King's home. He'd received the call requesting the meeting hours ago but had been too busy to respond before now. He hadn't been home or spoken to his mate, but he had a feeling he'd find her here, hiding behind her former alpha.
His cock twitched at the mere thought of his lissome mate. This was exactly why he'd tried so hard to forget she existed all this long day. He couldn't afford to spend hours at a parade with humans when his eyes had gone black with lust and he had a tent pole lewdly pushing out his slacks.
Hiding Bijou from his waking thoughts had embedded her even more deeply in his subconscious, an unexpected consequence that had her ever on the edge of his attention. He took a deep breath of the slightly smoky Fourth of July night air and tried to tell himself he didn't really want the combative shape-shifter in his life.
In his bed, yes. Or against the wall, in the shower, in his hot tub or car. Any way he could have her, absolutely. There was more than sex between mates though. They were bound together by the ancient ritual and some even older mate magic. He didn't understand it and clearly the Brotherhood didn't either, despite elders like Barkley and Nana, who were known throughout the clans for their extrasensory abilities.
Speaking of Barkley, he saw the elder open the front door of King's house and come out to the porch. His tall, spare frame was a mere silhouette but Magnus would have recognized him anywhere, perhaps by some small extrasensory ability of his own. Barkley waved a hand at Magnus.
"The party is in the back," he called.
A party? For what, the mating? Magnus shook his head. There would be no celebrating for this joining of clans. As it was, he may not be an alpha much longer. King must be hosting a Fourth of July gathering. Yes, under the smoke from fireworks, he could smell a hint of beef. A barbeque.
Suddenly, his stomach rumbled. He didn't want to insult King, much less his mysterious elder advisor Barkley. He would eat their cooked meat and hear what they had to say. Maybe Bijou would be there too.
Without speaking, he pulled off his tie and dropped it on his driver's seat, then unbuttoned his shirt as he walked up the path. Barkley came down from the porch and led him back through a thumbprint-locked gate.
Magnus was immediately amused when he saw the layout of the backyard. Built on a hill, there was a white temple to one side and the greenery would have been familiar in any Greek countryside. The spot could have been anywhere in rural Greece.
"Fit for a basileus," he muttered, using the Greek word for king. The Greeks had ever used that term even for those who ruled just one city. Such grand pretentions. He saw that arrogance even in Bijou, so convinced she was superior to him. But even a óêõëß had to bow to mating magic.
"It's real, you know," Barkley said.
"What?"
"The temple. It was dedicated to Apollo, disassembled and brought here."
"Fascinating," Magnus murmured, hiding his sarcasm.
Barkley went on as if he hadn't heard him. "Apollo was the god of prophecy, in addition to other things."
"So?"
"My mother read the cards for Bijou, shortly before she, ahem," Barkley cleared his throat, "met you last night."
Magnus crossed his arms and turned to Barkley, curious now despite himself. "What did the reading say?"
Barkley shook his head. "It wasn't good, my friend. But perhaps the worst has already happened."
"Meaning I'm the worst that could happen to her?" Magnus would have expected the insult from most of the Brotherhood, but not from Barkley, who had linked them together in the first place.
"Your mere existence in her life destroys her dreams," Barkley said, his thick eyebrows crunching together over his nose. "Don't forget that. Your shaming was not her fault. The young ones, well..." He raised a hand. "You were unlucky there, but it wasn't her fault."
"She got involved," Magnus growled.
"She's your mate. She was drawn to you."
"They could not have marked me if it wasn't for her."
Barkley's lips tilted in a small smile. "They got you on the cross, my friend. It was only a matter of time. You couldn't best them except under a full moon. Not all of the younglings at once."
Magnus sneered. "I didn't have a fair shot. Give me one and we'll see."
"You can't fight them now. You are mated to their clanswoman."
"I'll do what I think is best."
Out of the dark a tall figure loomed. King. Magnus had interacted very little with the Brotherhood's alpha before now. Odd, in a way, that the shape-shifters had not banded together, a common bond against the humans, but they weren't at war with anyone, had no need of allies. Living in different towns, their children didn't attend the same human schools. Shape-shifter children were never allowed to play on after-school sports teams and give away their extraordinary skills, so they would never have even met on the playing field.
Perhaps they should have had their own events, Magnus mused. A way to meet and understand one another. But it was probably too late now to plan, for him at least.
"A word, alpha," King said, his face impassive.
"That's what I'm here for."
"Where is your mate?"
So she wasn't at the party? Magnus shrugged. "Asleep when I left for the day. Today is a national holiday and I am a politician in the human world."
King nodded. "She came to me."
Figures. "I assumed as much. But as true mates were are tied together whether either of us want it."
"Do you want her?"
Magnus' stomach grumbled as he shook his head. "We are fated to be together."
Barkley put his hand on Magnus' shoulder. Magnus didn't like the elder's touch but he wouldn't allow himself to shrug the older man's yellowed claws away. "Come, have something to eat. We aren't barbarians."
"I'll be the judge of that," Magnus muttered as he followed King into the party. The alpha was intelligent enough to steer them away from the youth, leading him through a group of middle-aged and older women. He recognized Nana's wrinkled countenance as he skirted one such table of females.
"Help yourself," King said, pointing to a table groaning with picnic items. "Then come inside."
Behind them was a set of glass doors. Magnus nodded and took a plate, noting that Barkley stayed close by. For fear of what, Magnus wasn't sure. He gathered a thick medium-rare burger, slaw and baked beans. Barkley handed him a longneck beer and followed him through the door, a couple more bottles in his hands.
King was seated on a brown microfiber couch in front of a turned-off plasma TV. He waved the other men into recliners on either side as Barkley handed him a beer.
Magnus was allowed to get a few bites in before King spoke.
"Have you announced your mating to your clan?" King inquired.
Magnus shook his head and forked up slaw.
"Can anyone in the Legion read auras?" the alpha asked.
Magnus narrowed his eyes.
Barkley preempted any comment he might make. "No, they don't have anyone with that skill."
"So no one is going to know Bijou is your mate unless you tell them."
"They'll see the tattoos," Barkley commented.
"You can avoid that for a time," King said.
"Why would I want to?" Magnus interjected. "If pressed, my first line of attack is to claim I suffered my shaming in order to win my mate. Many will accept that."
Barkley made a rude noise in the back of his throat. "In the Legion? Have you Romans gone soft?"
"We are all better off if I remain alpha," Magnus said. "The alternatives are worse."
They didn't respond. Magnus was unsure what they knew of the Legion's recent history anyway.
"Here's the thing," King said. "We want Bijou back."
They couldn't be serious. "I want Bijou gone too," Magnus said. "But it isn't possible, she's my mate. We'll die---"
"I've thought this through since I spoke to her this morning. You won't die for a year or so," King interrupted. "We just want her back for six months. That will be time enough for her to finish up a project she's agreed to do. You can court her, maybe even end up with a happy mate. Trust me, everything's better when your mate is happy."
"You have to be kidding me," Magnus said, setting down his plate. "Besides, what do you know? You aren't mated."
King ignored his remarks. "As you pointed out, you're a public figure. As such, wouldn't it look better if you dated before a woman is suddenly living in your home, in sin as it were?"
"I had assumed we'd marry," Magnus said, realizing he hadn't thought the situation through at all. There hadn't been any thinking, except considering how to get his cock into Bijou and wondering how often he could do so.
"In six months," King said. "Give her time."
"I might not have that," Magnus said. "If they find out about the shaming."
"I'll call a meeting of the Brotherhood, threaten exile to anyone who lets the shaming be known," King said. "But I won't do that unless you agree to let Bijou stay among the Brotherhood for the next six months."
"What is in it for you?"
"A happy subject."
"She's Legion now and you know it."
King's smile was smarmy. "You haven't claimed her in public."
"But---"
Barkley interrupted. "She's been yours from the first time you set eyes on each other, whether you liked it or not. Now you have to decide how to approach the rest of your life with her. Why not make it a pleasant experience for your mate? She's a young woman, deserving of courtship."
Magnus sat back. Barkley spoke the truth, though he knew he was missing something here. Did that matter though? By keeping the shaming private he could keep Julian and Brutus at bay, shore up support. He hadn't been alpha for long. His father had died only a year ago. Six more months might be enough to solidify his leadership. His support was growing.
He nodded. Right now he'd be better off without a distraction. "I agree to your terms."
King nodded. "Good." He leaned his head toward Magnus' half full plate. "Go ahead and eat. You'll want to go to Bijou's house after and explain. I expect she's there sulking."
Magnus sighed deeply and took a large bite of beans. A sulky female was never something any man or shape-shifter looked forward to dealing with, though this one might be mollified by the idea that she didn't have to return to his home. Regardless of the sexual pleasure they'd found together, he doubted she wanted him around. Still, he'd be damned if he wouldn't have one last night inside her before he said goodbye. He also wanted to know if she'd conceived his cub last night.
As it grew dark, Magnus pulled into the driveway of Bijou's little wood-frame house. It was quiet and unassuming from the outside, not representative of the fiery-eyed woman he knew. Did she have a restful center he hadn't sensed? The windows were open to the smoky night air, jewel-toned curtains that were the only outward sign of personality waving in the slight breeze that had started on his drive over.
He got out of his SUV and walked across lush, well-kept lawn to the porch.
"Hello?" he called into one of the windows. Not hearing any response or footfalls, he tried the front door. Locked. He could climb in through the window, but that seemed rude even for a mate. Not seeing a doorbell, he decided to walk around the house. Bijou might be outside.
She was behind the house, curled into a corner of a chair swing on the back porch, looking small and defenseless despite her considerable height. She didn't raise her head to say hello. He wished she'd look at least a little excited to greet him. Everything he'd ever expected about mating had been turned on its ear and not in a good way. Except the desire, that was intense. The scent of her perfume on the breeze had his cock brushing the zipper of his slacks. He wondered what it would take to make her wet for him.
"Why weren't you at King's party?" he asked, putting his hand on the railing at the edge of the porch. If he didn't keep his distance he might get presumptuous.
She didn't seem surprised to see him. "It's a Brotherhood party. I'm not Brotherhood now."
"No one but King and Barkley know that."
She shook her head. "My family knows. My brother heard us in the field and told the others."
Magnus frowned and put one foot on the step up to the deck. What kind of bargain had he made? "King told me no one knew."
Her gaze met his. "You spoke to him?"
"Just now. He wants you to remain with the Brotherhood for the moment."
Her face showed now emotion, not even surprise. "What was your response?"
"He said my shaming would remain a secret if I agreed. But how can that be? From the beginning your family was responsible and now you tell me your family knows that we are mates."
"My brothers are loyal to King. They will do what he asks." She paused. "And what I ask."
Was that a threat? "They are such humanitarians, your clansmen. They want you to have a courtship. Is that what your family wants for you too?"
She raised her chin. He'd hurt her, he could see that, but it was too late to take back the sneering words.
"You don't think I'm worth it. Not now, maybe not ever."
"I don't know you." He leaned forward. "But your former alpha has a hidden motive." Truly, he didn't want a friendless, loveless mating any more than she probably did. Shape-shifters lived a long time. Right now though, they were strangers jockeying for position at the starting gate.
She tightened her lips but said nothing.
"I'll make you a bargain," he said.
"What?"
"One night." He had to taste her again, however the persuasion was managed.
She crossed her arms. "What do you mean? One night in return for what?"
The mere thought of having that long body under him had his fists clenching. "As you know, we are past the courtship phase. And you know I want a child to continue my line if someone lets out what happened last night."
"Maybe I'm pregnant now," she said.
His heart jolted. "Are you?"
She stared at him for a moment. He could see her surprise from his comeback by the light of the candles ringing the deck. "No. I would know." She paused.
"What?" Was there a problem with his mate?
"I almost thought I could have been, you know, right away? But I guess it wasn't quite the right time."
Did she want a baby? "Maybe tonight could be the right time." Come to me, mate. I'm so hot for you.
She turned her head away. He stepped onto the deck, moved toward her, with a sense of stalking his prey. At some level she was reluctant and he didn't know why, much less understand her strategy.
"Do you want to?" he asked.
"What? Fuck?"
He dismissed that with a wave. "Be with me. You liked it last night. I made you scream."
"I was on edge." She shook her head. "What a crazy night."
He felt himself smile. Her honesty made him move closer. He sat down next to her. "Truer words were never spoken." He tilted his head. "Generally speaking, I'm a pretty charismatic guy. You might like me."
"I'm going to have to. While you're here."
Was that a note of sarcasm?
"I'd rather you made a choice." He held out his hands.
She hesitated, then brushed his fingers with the pads of her own. Yes!
"We're on your property tonight. Do you like that better? Your own home? I know you don't want to be with me or King never would have suggested we take time apart."
"I have a life of my own." She moved her hands away, rebuilding space between them. "I wasn't sure King ever even intended to send me back to you."
"We'll have to be together eventually or we'll die. I'd rather we didn't, given the choice."
She nodded.
"I understand you have a life, plans of your own. I'll give you time. If you give me tonight."
She gazed at him again, a long stare that felt soul-deep. Then she uncurled herself and stood. A brass candlesnuffer rested on a table to her left and he watched as she took it in her slender, claw-tipped fingers, then stepped to the first candle.
He guessed she was agreeing and would give him tonight. If only they'd conceive a child. But there was still time. Already tied together, he might as well plan for the future. He watched her lean body, clad in tight jeans that accentuated the high, muscled butt he knew lay underneath. Suddenly he felt uncomfortable ogling her. She was giving him what he wanted and he'd offered her no courtship.
Standing, he said, "I'll be back in a few minutes. Wait for me."
Bijou blew out the candle in front of her, the snuffer forgotten in her hand as she watched Pompey's broad back disappear into the night. What had gotten into him? A sudden intense sense of frustration filled her. She clenched her thighs together and threw the snuffer out onto the lawn.
How could he be exactly what she didn't want yet so entirely what she needed sexually? She'd thought he would go away after speaking to King, that she'd get time entirely away from him and she could forget what last night had been like for her.
But here he'd come, invading her night space with his large body and icy blue eyes. Her heightened shape-shifter senses could smell his arousal, pungent and enticing. They had been all light banter, but underneath she'd been juicy with desire and his cock had been rock-hard.
Now? Nothing but disappointment. What had she done to make him flee their mutual desire? She didn't even own a vibrator, but tonight she wished she had one, since she was humming with a need for fast release.
Zeus' cock! She didn't know what to do with herself. Pacing the deck entertained her only for a moment. She needed to get that man out of her head and the only way to manage that was to kill the sexual frustration she felt before she had to show him her need.
She stalked into her bedroom and opened her lingerie drawer. Not that there was much in the way of lingerie in it, she had little more than sturdy, brightly colored cotton underthings. Maybe she just wasn't that sexy, but focusing on her shortcomings as a woman wasn't going to quench the fire he had lit inside her. Could the only remnant of a former lover help? She had only ever used one sex toy on herself, something her college lover had introduced into their sex play.
Crossing her room to the opposite side of her neat, quilt-topped bed, she began to unbutton her denim blue sleeveless shirt. Closing her eyes for a moment, she let her fingers drift down her abdomen, pretending a lover's fingers were on her. Then she reached behind and undid the clasp of her bra. In the hot night her nipples weren't terribly responsive so she pinched them, then opened her eyes to see the results.
She loved her nipples. Fat and rosy, just the sight of them made her pussy tingle. She lifted her breasts with her hands and pressed them against the mirror. The cold sensation made her shudder, made her nipples harden even more.
Satisfied, she put her fingers on the belt of her jeans. She kept her fingers there, imagining they belonged to someone else, slowly undoing the buckle.
Her mood was slightly diminished when she saw the boring pink cotton bikini panties beneath the jeans, but when she touched the cotton it was damp, and her clit was already plump and so tender that merely running her finger over the cotton made her gasp. She pushed her panties down, too hot now to wear anything on her sensitized flesh. When she turned away from the mirror, she caught sight of the new tattoo on her cheek.
She was a mate and yet alone. "It's not supposed to be like this," she growled aloud. It didn't matter, she could pleasure herself.
There were five crisp cotton-covered pillows on her bed and she pushed them into a thick pile so she could recline against them. She sighed as she leaned back, trying to loosen up. Relaxation was impossible though because she was too horny to be still. Flipping to her belly, she reached to the edge of her bed. Her engorged nipples rubbed against the sturdy multicolored quilting threads. She pulled herself forward, allowing her pelvis to grind into the mattress. It felt so good, but she wished she had a man under her instead of her quilt. A man she didn't have such a complicated relationship with, of course. How was it that after years of celibacy her body could come so completely alive after just one night with her mate? She pushed the irritating thought from her mind. She didn't want to think, only feel. When her breasts were off the bed she could reach far enough underneath to pull out the small box containing her toy.
She pulled herself up and crawled back to the comfortable spot in her nest of pillows. Her professor lover had given her the hand-carved music box when she had told him she was going back to Centralia. It played a mournful, sentimental tune that made her tear up, so she snatched her toy out of the box and closed the lid before it could tinkle more than a couple of notes. No sadness now. She could deal with her losses after she'd rid herself of her body's craving.
She cradled the handle of her toy in both hands. Just touching it made her breasts tingle. The whip was made of soft leather, dangling from the base in black and red strips. Her heightened senses picked up the faint smell of her body as well as the stronger odor of the leather, despite who knew how many months since she'd used it.
Her fingers tested the soft strands of the whip and her legs trembled slightly as her body remembered. Her pussy released a little more of its moisture. She could feel her inner lips growing thick with desire.
At first she teased herself, running the whip from the tops of her feet up to her thighs, letting the ends of the whip brush her sensitized skin ever so slightly. Then the other leg got the same treatment, the many strands of leather feeling foreign, like someone else's hands touching her.
She ran the long filaments of leather along her shins, her calves, the outsides of her legs. Her pussy wept with desire. When she was ready, she moved the whip to her inner thighs until her legs automatically began spreading. For just a moment, one little stroke, she let the strands tap against her engorged clit, then let the fingers of one hand play there while she tapped her breasts with the whip, her pale skin reddening with the gentle contact.
Her head rested back against the pillows, eyes closed. She abandoned her breasts, circling her clit with a steady rhythm while she moved the whip strands up her chest to her neck and shoulders, almost ready for the next step.
Her legs spread farther apart as she moved the thick handle of the whip down her body now. She brushed the strands against her inner legs again, feeling them resist pulling away from her skin because of all the dampness there. Then she titled her pelvis up and moved her free hand down to open her lips. Her pussy received the handle of her whip voraciously, her pelvis pushing up to accept several inches. She gasped as it slid into her, the noise seeming to echo in the room.
Reason dribbled back into her brain. Her voice had never echoed in here before. Had she really heard her own voice, or someone else's? She opened her eyes to see Pompey standing over her.
Dropping the whip from her numb fingers, she scrabbled to an upright position against the pillows.
"Don't stop now," he said in a strained voice. "Unless I can put my cock where that whip handle is."
She looked down and saw the toy still protruding from her pussy. How embarrassing. Reaching down she pulled it out, moaning as it separated from her screaming flesh. The handle was moist with her juices. When she saw Pompey's intense expression she forgot to be self-conscious.
Pompey reached down and took it from her. Her eyes widened as he licked the handle with his long pink tongue.
He closed his eyes in appreciation. "Divine. You taste amazing. So much flavor."
"What are you doing here?" she squeaked. The smell of him, his arousal was making her crazy. "You said you had to leave."
"I told you I was coming back. You left the porch door open."
She supposed he had said that, but she couldn't remember. Her brain was completely fogged. "I wasn't thinking straight."
"Why not?"
She blinked. "I was horny, okay?" The irritation became more than she could bear, overriding her craving. She threw a pillow at him.
He leaned back to catch it, and she saw his cock clearly outlined as it strained against the summer-weight wool of his slacks. Her mouth went dry.
"Why did you come back?" She sat on her right hand to keep in it from reaching for his zipper.
He held out a handful of long cellophane. "I went to get these. To be nice."
Befuddled, she took the handful of what she now saw were gas station roses. "You brought them to be nice?"
"There aren't any florists open at this time of night. The fireworks will begin in any moment."
The fireworks would already be going in her head if she'd had a chance to bring herself to climax. Now what? "I should put them in water."
"I've got a better idea." He took one of the roses from her and tore it from the package. Flinging the wrapper aside, he pulled the petals from the rose and crushed them in his hand before scattering them across her chest.
She leaned back again, smiling at the absurdity. "You've lost your mind."
"How could I stay sane with your wet pussy scent filling the room?" He took another rose from her hand and pulled it from its wrapper, then bent down and tilted her hips with his hand under her butt. Then he speared the flower an inch into her channel.
Her pelvis leapt from the bed in an involuntary motion. She gasped as he pulled it out and circled her clit.
"Zeus' cock," she moaned. She felt the bed dip as Pompey knelt on the bed between her legs. "Just fuck me now, okay?"
"No." She felt her legs being spread apart by two strong hands, then hair brushing between her legs. Her eyes widened. Was he doing what she hoped? Oh yes, he was. She felt his tongue on her clit.
No more urging was needed to open her legs. She pressed her pelvis against his face, too hot to do anything more than take what he offered and make it as fast as possible. The room smelled like smoke and roses and her own excited body as she ground her clit against his mouth.
She began to shake as she pressed and rotated and gasped. Couldn't quite get there. Zeus, this was all so new to her.
"Let go, parum lupus," he urged.
He moved slightly. She grabbed his hair with her fingers, scraping his skull with her claws. Why was he moving?
Then, she felt a full sensation in her channel. Warm and wet, more slender than a cock, but hot. His tongue. Inside her.
She gave in with a scream, shuddering against him with an intensity that might have wounded a human trapped between her legs. But he didn't seem to mind, continuing to tongue-fuck her as she shuddered.
Eventually, her body relaxed against the quilt and he pulled away. She felt nearly senseless and even a little cool as a smoky breeze drifted into the house and dried the sweat on her body.
After a minute she called his name. "Pompey?"
There was no answer. He had left the room. Too relaxed to care, she pushed the quilt down the bed and rolled under her crisp white sheet. In another minute she heard footfalls and saw Pompey enter the room holding a yellow pitcher filled with the roses.
"Thank you," she said with a smile when he placed them on her bedside table. How could he take the time to think of roses when his cock tented his pants nearly to the fabric's tearing point? Her body came alive again.
"Do you like roses?" he asked.
She was touched by the uncertainty in his voice. "Yes, very much. I love flowers."
He tucked his hands into his pockets.
She felt his hesitation and held out a hand. "Come here."
He took a step toward her. She reached for his belt and pulled him closer, then unbuckled his belt, undid the top button of his slacks and grabbed for his zipper.
"I'm still horny," she told him, pushing down his pants. His cock bobbed out, unfettered by underclothes.
She allowed her mouth to slide over the head of his cock, dampening it with her tongue.
A guttural noise came from his mouth but he didn't say anything or touch her. The truth was, she didn't want to suck him off, she just wanted to lube him up a little so he'd glide into her smoothly.
While she stretched her mouth around him, taking him deeper, she reached up and pulled his shirt apart. Buttons clattered on the hardwood floor as they ripped from the fabric. The edges of the shirt moved out of her hands as he pushed the shirt from his body and placed his knee on the bed.
His cock came out of her mouth as he collapsed on top of her, then it probed at her channel's entrance. Eagerly she pressed herself to him and wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles against his warm back.
He sank into her, then pulled out and rammed in again. Completely open from her earlier orgasm, she took him to the hilt, feeling his balls against the tender flesh between pussy and anus. Reaching around his butt, she ran her claws against his sac. He groaned and pounded her harder, faster.
Were they in a race? She fought to keep up with him, alternately playing with his sac and pulling his ass against her so she could keep her clit in full contact with him. No toy could ever compete with the sensations of full body contact with a solid, yummy-smelling shape-shifter.
She felt herself smiling in sheer bliss even as she began to moan helplessly. Her claws gripped his butt, her legs tightening as she came closer and closer to her second orgasm of the night.
"Don't slow down," she said as she felt the intensity lessen.
"Don't you want it to last?" he rasped.
"No, I want to come."
"Thank Jupiter," he said, then pushed her into the bed until the mattress squeaked, pistoning against her like no human could. Human hearts would give out from the exertion.
But she could take his power, in fact she could glory in it. She began to spiral up, allowing her feet to separate from the hold on his back and push into the mattress to give her pelvis free rein.
"Yes, yes," she sobbed, feeling a glorious fluttering that spread until her entire body was caught up in the best orgasm of her life.
As she started to float down, she felt him stiffen then shudder against her. Hot cum pelted her inner walls, making her contract again until her orgasm became endless. She sank into a nearly insensate level of pleasure.
After a few minute of blissful drifting she stirred. He rolled off her. As his penis left her channel she felt a last echoing orgasmic pulse. She made a sound in protest. Pompey put an arm across her shoulders and pulled her close so they were resting face-to-face.
"Fireworks," she mumbled against his shoulder.
"Yes," he said, obviously misunderstanding her. "The fireworks are starting."
He sat up. She held out her hand to pull him back, but he wrapped her in the sheet and put his arms under her shoulders and knees. He cradled her against his body and lifted her.
She closed her eyes against his chest as he stepped into the hallway and out the French doors to the porch. The candles she'd forgotten to snuff out still flickered in the now fully dark night. As he walked to the porch swing and sat with her still in his arms she saw a burst of emerald-colored sparks in the sky.
From her backyard she could see the fireworks display in the park a few blocks away. She usually missed it because she was at the Brotherhood party but tonight she had planned to watch from here since she was alone.
"There's a bottle of wine over there," she told him. "If you turn on the radio a local station is supposed to have music that goes with the show."
She balanced herself on his lap as he leaned over and flipped on the radio, then grabbed the bottle of wine and corkscrew.
"You had quite a night planned for yourself," he said, handing her the bottle.
"Might as well enjoy yourself even if you can't attend the party." She made quick work of the cork, then made a face. "I forgot glasses."
"Don't need them. Here," he held the bottle to her lips. "We'll share."
She smiled then took a sip from the bottle. The velvety liquid felt wonderful going down her throat. "I think I'm dehydrated," she said, taking another sip before surrendering the bottle to him.
"Not surprising," he said, taking a deep swallow himself. "You got quite a workout in there."
She giggled. "We both did." She could feel his damp chest against her back.
Above them, the sky brightened with a shower of gold and red sparkles.
"Beautiful," she breathed. The music coming from the radio wasn't the Sousa marches she'd expected but was lovelier, softer.
She felt him adjust her on his lap.
"I could use another workout," he said. "I didn't get a chance to do my normal run today."
She wriggled against him, the friction making her pussy grow moist. "A shape-shifter who exercises in human form? You Romans are dedicated to physical strength. What did you have in mind?"
"Just tilt a little."
She raised her butt off him and felt his cock press against her.
"Wrong hole," she gasped, feeling his cock poke against her anus.
"Are you sure?" She could hear the smile in his voice.
"Virgin hole," she said. "Try the other one. It will be easier for now."
"Okay."
She tilted again.
This time he slid smoothly into the channel her excitement had lubricated for him. She rested her heels against the edge of the swing, her body accepting his thrusts. He moved so deeply she could almost feel him in her stomach.
Somehow even this position hit her plump bundle of nerves. Helpless to stop herself, she began to moan in time with his thrusts.
"Shhh," he said, placing his hand over her mouth. "Don't want the neighbors to hear you howl."
She bit the fleshy pad of his palm in protest. He laughed, but the sound turned into a low grunt when she pushed against his pistoning hips, driving him even more fully up her channel.
If she could choose a moment to live in forever, this would be the one. Already sated with orgasms, her body preparing for another, able to see the great sky bursting with colored lights. Music, sweetly sensual music, filled her ears, an undertone of rhythmic breath from her partner adding a husky note. There was a point when all thought ended and she was simply sensation, soaring up with the brilliant lights and the music as she rode his body into the sky.
She felt him tremble and gasp. He called her name in a hoarse whisper when he came, her channel filling with hot cum.
When he finished she was numb. Her body was exhausted, the fireworks over, the radio station gone to commercial. Pompey picked her up again, taking her back through the doors and into her rose-scented bedroom.
"Thank you," he said, standing over her bed.
She struggled into a seated position. "You don't have to leave. You could stay the night." Was he ready for their night to be over? She wasn't.
He shook his head. "I made a bargain with you and with your clan. One night for six months. I'll keep our secret, assuming your family keeps ours."
"They will." Her family was loyal, if impetuous.
He gathered his clothes. "Do you want to be courted or would you rather be left alone for the next six months?"
Her head spun with exhaustion. How could she explain what she wanted when she didn't know herself? "Why don't you call me this weekend?"
He nodded. "I can do that."
She tried again. "We have a wedding to plan."
He pulled on his slacks. "That's your department."
She ran her hands through her tangled hair, surprised at his businesslike tone. "Don't you want to be involved?"
"Just send the bills to my office. I'll have my assistant get you a guest list when you're ready for one. Just remember all my staff is human." He grabbed his rumpled shirt and stuck one arm into a sleeve.
"Fine," she said, stung. "I'll speak to you in a couple of days then."
"Great." He leaned, as if considering giving her a kiss, then straightened as if he thought better of it. "Until then."
Dazed, she walked out onto her porch with him so she could lock up as he left.
The next morning when she woke alone in her bedroom, she knew she was pregnant. Inside her was a spark of life that hadn't been there before, a tiny hint of magic. How she knew she couldn't say, but it was there, a little Greco-Roman life force. She and Pompey had both achieved their goals. He would have a child to continue his line and she had the next six months of her life to herself.
If she wanted it that way. She propped pillows behind her and struggled into a seated position in bed, counting on her fingers. Today was July fifth. She'd have to return to Pompey on January fifth no matter the state of their relationship at that time. But like most women, she didn't like the idea of being obviously pregnant on her wedding day. This meant she'd need to marry him by November. Once she was married though, she'd lose access to the archives of the Brotherhood. That didn't give her much time to do research. She'd have to prioritize. After the wedding, she'd figure out how to proceed, what her future held. For now she'd focus on present concerns only.
One of the most obvious items to learn about was magic. She had a pressing need now to understand mate magic. Why couldn't shape-shifters survive more than a year without regular face-to-face and sexual contact with their true mates once they had met? What was an aura and why could only Barkley see it? And what was the deal with that door in Pompey's house?
Hello, little wolf. She touched her flat belly with her fingertips. Rest and grow. Everything will work out somehow, even if I haven't a clue as to how your father thinks.
\*
Bijou leaned back in the chair and stretched her neck, resting her right hand on her still-flat belly. Her left hand held a faded scroll she'd been trying to decipher. For two months now, she'd spent most of her time in the archives deep beneath Nana and Barkley's home. Though she'd given up on her hopes of extracting any answers from the two of them, King had commanded they open their archives to her, once it had been obvious the archives under King's own home were more ancestral and political in nature. Her interest in these fields was nonexistent due to the time pressure she was under.
One thing Bijou had expected was some kind of magic lock on the steel door in Nana's basement, but there'd only been a standard fingerprint lock that she'd been added to. Barkley hadn't been forthcoming with information regarding Pompey's magic door. Maybe even the elders were limited in their magical knowledge, though they never admitted such things.
"I do wonder though," she said aloud, "if this dratted fatigue is why I can't find any success in my research."
She pinched her nose to try to hold back a sneeze caused by setting the scroll back into its dusty box. Her pants were feeling a little tight too, though her slightly thickening waistline was nothing compared to the enormous growth of her breasts. Idly, she wondered if Pompey was a breast man. She had no way of knowing, since she hadn't seen him since July fourth. He had called her that July weekend as arranged and in the interests of practicality she'd told him he didn't need to court her. Still, he could have sent flowers or something on occasion.
"Give me strength, little wolf," she murmured. "I wonder how your father is doing." Even with the fatigue her body felt like it had been at a constant level of sexual arousal since she'd met Pompey. Maybe that was a drain on her too.
\*
Magnus drummed his fingers on his desk, trying to distract himself from his ever-present urge to yawn. At first, at the end of July, he'd began to feel tired, but now, ten weeks since he'd been with Bijou, he was suffering from full-blown fatigue. He'd tried to blame it on the seasons changing, but by this point he was certain that his separation from his mate was the cause. Was this how separated mates died? From terminal fatigue?
At least his busy schedule had prevented him from sharing in the group Legion activities that occurred every full moon. No one was surprised that he was always overbooked and so no one in his clan had seen either his exhaustion or mating and shaming tattoos.
He blinked hard, suppressed another yawn and tried to focus on a recent upgrade to Cherry Blossom's emergency plan. Next came a meeting with Julian in ten minutes and he needed to be sharp. Reading this plan was likely to put him right to sleep, so he pushed it aside and hit the brew button on his one-cup coffeemaker. The machine buzzed and vibrated as it poured rich, dark-roasted coffee into the white china cup he always had ready under the spout.
Coffee kept him going for now, but what would go wrong with his body next? Even in his backyard in wolf form on the full moon two weeks before he'd felt a little off, though not as severely.
His phone rang as he put the cup to his lips. He forced a smile to his mouth and picked it up.
"Julian is here to see you, sir," his secretary said.
"He's early."
"Yes, sir."
Damn power games, Magnus thought, draining his cup. It would be better to get this over with now. "Send him in." He put down the receiver.
"You're looking tired," Julian said unctuously, smoothing his red tie against his chest as Magnus' secretary showed him in.
Magnus felt his smile dim. "I'm reading the emergency plan. It's practically a sleep aid."
"Now, now, Mr. Mayor. Surely you're not losing your enthusiasm for the job? And right before the election? You know this is your first election since you were appointed after your father's death. It can be a trying process but you need the public to support you."
"I'm not losing my enthusiasm," Magnus said, fighting to remain pleasant.
"I have been concerned," Julian said, seating himself in a chair. "I've never seen you so jittery and my wife commented that your face looked thinner than usual at the Legion Council last Saturday."
"Get to the point, Julian," Magnus snarled. "I have to speak at a lodge luncheon in forty minutes."
"Just a friendly visit," Julian crossed one thin leg over the other, smoothing his slacks to cover pale, hairy flesh. "We're concerned, those of us on the Council. You know the rules. Our alpha must be at the peak of physical perfection for his age. If you are ill...well..."
"I'm fine," Magnus said, pointing his hand at Julian for emphasis. "Just busy with the election. Too busy for mind games. I'm sure the Council understands how valuable it is for the clan to have the alpha be Cherry Blossom's mayor as well, despite the time commitment."
"Yes, yes, of course," Julian said smoothly. "Another thing though, before I review the sales information for the wildlife preserve properties with you."
"Yes?"
"Are you getting married?"
Magnus leaned forward in his chair, genuinely startled. Had Bijou sent invitations out so soon? "Why?"
"One of my daughters-in-law said she saw your name in a gift registry when she was shopping yesterday."
The invitations weren't supposed to go out until the first week of October, according to his secretary. She'd been his contact with Bijou, since his mate had declined to be courted. At least he'd offered and therefore was justified in hiding the wedding to maximize his speech time talking about the issues instead of talking about his own nuptials until close to the last minute. He'd tried to make his secretary talk Bijou out of a wedding two days after the November election, but she said Bijou'd gotten quite hysterical at the idea of waiting until January.
He didn't know why for certain, but he suspected her secret. If only he hadn't promised to stay away from her, to stay out of Brotherhood territory for six months. If only he thought she was speeding up the wedding because she wanted to be with him rather than display an early pregnancy. Once the Brotherhood and Legion knew she was pregnant they'd know Magnus and Bijou were mated and start asking questions of both of them. The Brotherhood Council might be angry that she'd been in their archives and the Legion might get a whiff of the story behind their original meeting.
He didn't want to try to win a tough election and fight off an alpha challenger in the same season. Especially when he was so damn tired. Still, he'd often found his mind wandering in the direction of an unborn cub. Could he be right about Bijou's pregnancy?
"A registry?" he said, fighting for time.
"You know, for a wedding. A present wish list?"
"Oh. Interesting," he said vaguely. "Like I told you, I'm tightly scheduled today. You said you'd gathered a final proposal on the cost of buying farmland for the preserve?"
\*
Bijou set down the Cherry Blossom Gazette, the weekly newspaper of Pompey's small town. She'd been sitting at her kitchen table with a glass of water staring at the society page, which had a recent photo of the mayor and a mention of wedding rumors. His face looked alarmingly thin and there were dark circles under his eyes in the photo. The mate magic wasn't doing him any favors. Today was exactly three months since they'd been together last.
He looked downright ill and aged, but she didn't feel any different at all, other than being pregnant of course, and suffering related fatigue and nausea. But today was the last day of the first trimester so she expected to feel better soon.
She was starting to wonder though, if there was a point of no return. When they married next month would it be soon enough to reverse the frightening changes in her mate? Guilt crawled over her heart with sickly fingers. Pompey was the father of her little wolf. Had her selfishness doomed him?
Her head dropped onto her arms. Three months of dedicated research and she hadn't found anything of value except maybe a set of books she hadn't known existed, in a tongue she didn't recognize. When she'd mentioned them to Nana she'd looked troubled. Barkley had flat out told her they were worthless and had locked them into a cabinet in the archives, as if that would stop her from looking at them further. She could open the lock and they'd never even know it.
The reality was, however, she had no idea what language was used in the books.
Time for another day of fruitless research. "You up for it, little wolf?" she said aloud, rubbing her stomach.
No answer was forthcoming from her womb. Her mother had told her that some women could communicate with their unborn children, but never until the last trimester. Bijou couldn't wait for that first touch of minds with her unborn child. So far she had a general sense that she was carrying a girl but no hints as to personality.
At least her little wolf was tolerant of research. She was never nauseated when she was working. Maybe her cub understood its importance.
It only took her ten minutes to walk swiftly through a light autumn rain to Nana's house. Neither Nana nor Barkley was home but she unlocked the door and was soon at the bottom of the subbasement steps, opening the door of the utility closet that hid the entrance to the archives.
That door was behind a stack of old screens. She lifted them easily and put her finger to the lock, then slipped through, letting the screens drop against the doorjamb.
Here there were no worries about weddings or the new life she'd be forging for herself soon. Normally she absorbed herself deeply in her work. After an hour though, she realized today wouldn't be so easy.
Pompey's thin face simply wouldn't leave her mind. Still beautiful, still sexy, but now he was in danger and it was all her fault. She had to find something in these blasted archives to make his suffering worth the wait she'd imposed.
Today's task was to look through a fifteenth-century clan history volume. The book was small and the writing faded. Some entries were in Greek and others were in French. The Brotherhood had been based in England then and French had been used at the royal courts of the time. Thankfully she could read the medieval versions of both languages easily.
For two months, she'd been working her way backwards in the histories, searching for mentions of magic. All she'd found so far were tantalizing fragments that led nowhere.
On February 20, 1432, she read, ten-year-old King Henry VI, having returned from a Paris visit, decided to visit London. Alongside him were the aldermen, the sheriffs and some twelve thousand citizens and others, which included a visitor added to His Majesty's retinue in Paris, one Alcander of Athens, a shape-shifter magister from Greece. On the twenty-second of that month, a deputation from the city presented the king with a gold casket full of money and foreign guests were presented with caskets as well.
On the left side of the page there were painted pictures of the caskets. Bijou grabbed her magnifying glass to examine the caskets.
Wait a minute. One of the caskets, perhaps the one offered to young Henry VI, didn't appear to be anything above the ordinary, but the other one, apparently made of wood, had symbols painted on it. Symbols like those in the ancient books Nana had taken away from her!
Were the symbols a language the magister used to perform magic? Could this be her way in to the secrets behind mating?
Artifacts or documents in that casket had been given to this Alcander back in 1432. Surely this meant something was known about the old language then. Perhaps she would be able to find information by going farther back. Certainly nothing later than 1432 had been helpful in her research.
She put the fifteenth-century book back into its box and pulled the fourteenth-century history from the shelf. Dust on the box made her sneeze. Wiping it carefully with a soft cloth, she placed it on the reading table in front of her and opened the box to reveal a set of five small hand-bound books.
The first book was even harder to read. But every so often, mixed in with the French and Greek, she found notations in the mysterious language. She began to copy down every word in her notebook, hoping to figure out the context and therefore the translation.
By the time she was done with the first book she had two pages of notes. Late that night, at the bottom of the box, book five had the answers she'd been seeking.
"The original language of our forefathers has been fading from memory," she translated from the Old French. "No one is alive to remember the migration from Greece. We are the first generations of the Brotherhood to lose our history. I have set down here such words that I was taught, and such proverbs in our native tongue, even older than that of the human Greeks."
"A dictionary," she breathed, grateful to the anonymous chronicler who had seen fit to write down what he or she knew. Reverently, she turned the page and began to read, burning the new language into her well-trained mind.
A week later, thankfully one with no more distractingly ominous reports about Pompey's health, she was ready to break into the locked cabinet and secretly translate the books that had been taken away from her. Thank Zeus for her years of language training. She could see the origins of ancient Greek in this older shape-shifter tongue and this would help her translate words not in the small medieval dictionary.
As she went to her mailbox and picked up her newspapers and mail, she realized this had been the first morning in nearly three months she hadn't needed to eat crackers before getting out of bed. The nausea of early pregnancy had vanished. She felt great now.
But all her joy was gone when she opened the paper. On the front page of the Cherry Blossom Gazette was the headline "Pompey in One-Car Crash." He'd had a fender bender, a one-car accident when he'd hit a tree after falling asleep at the wheel. Thank Apollo he hadn't been badly injured, though there was a picture of him looking wan, a bandage above one eye.
Other changes in his appearance surprised her, particularly given that it was election year. Why were his eyebrows thicker than she remembered? And he now had a beard? He didn't have the look of an American political candidate anymore.
That does it. She needed to see him, make sure he was okay. He didn't deserve this. Neither did the shape-shifter community. They needed someone in human politics to smooth over any problems that might present themselves. Also, it wasn't his fault he was her mate, that her brother and his friends had trapped him when it wasn't a full moon. All thoughts of the books slipped her mind.
She only hoped after she'd seen him she'd have the strength to leave to return to her research.
She picked up the phone and dialed his office, reaching an answering service. "Hello, this is the mayor's fiancée. Do you know his schedule for the day?"
"Hi, Bijou," said a friendly female voice she recognized from other calls. "He's in meetings until about ten p.m. tonight."
Appalled, she asked, "He's keeping that kind of schedule even with the fender bender?"
Bijou heard a warm chuckle. "You know how politicians are during election season. Go, go, go! But he did get a driver after his little accident."
She was grateful for that at least. "Are any of the meetings in public places where he might have moment to talk before or after?"
"Let me check." After a pause, the woman said, "Sorry. It looks like they are all either government or finance meetings today."
Bijou sighed. "Would you leave a message for him to call me on my cell phone?"
The woman sounded surprised. "You know, you've never asked me to do that before."
"I've left messages."
"Only for his secretary." Now she was all business. "Any specific message, please?"
"Just that I wanted to chat," Bijou paused, "about wedding details, I guess."
"Very good. I'll let him know."
"Thanks." Bijou set the phone back in its receiver. She'd done the best she could. Now it would be hard to focus on her work until she heard from him. Remember, Bijou, this ancient tongue had to be of interest, important even. The casket had been given to a magister, after all. She'd even found a mention of him in an extant letter from 1432, describing his gown. It certainly sounded like it had been covered with symbols from the mysterious language. Perhaps he was a shape-shifter sorcerer, if there ever were such creatures.
Forcing herself to keep going through the routine of her day, she made quick work of breakfast and the walk to Nana's house, eager to distract herself with her research. Her cell phone was fully charged and the ringer volume was set to high so she couldn't possibly miss a call from Pompey. Barkley was on his way out when she entered his front door.
"You're peppy this morning," he said, his eyes slitted from the morning light.
She felt anything but. "I love my work," she said with a forced smile. "Do you want to borrow my sunglasses?" It wouldn't hurt to be extra nice considering she was about to break into his locked cabinets.
He shook his head. "I have some in the car, thanks. Not too much longer now, until the wedding."
"You're right." Time was running out for her as well as Pompey.
"The baby seems strong," Barkley mused, gazing at some point right over her head.
"You haven't told anyone, have you?" He was the only one in the Brotherhood she couldn't hide her little wolf from, since he could see her aura in Bijou's. Only her brothers and Cere's wife, Vi, knew about her pregnancy.
"No." He shook his head. "Have a good day." He hurried down the steps, obviously in a rush to get somewhere.
It wasn't important. She had translation to do.
Three hours later she had cobwebs in her hair and an entire new world had been opened to her. Translation had been slow. She'd been forced to pick through bits and pieces of many of the available crumbling books, trying to find something of use to her. There was a history of the Greek gods that seemed to indicate they were real, at least to the author, a history of the founding of the Brotherhood, a history of their expulsion from Greece, various philosophical treatises and what she held now, a book of scientific hypotheses.
"The humans maintain there are four humors that regulate the body," she translated. "Blood, phlegm, black bile and yellow bile. Balance of these is essential for well-being and the regulation of cold, hot, dry and wet in the human form. These substances can be seen in the human body. We are a higher form of being, but we have these humors as well. What sets us apart?
"I propose a theory of additional shape-shifter humors. If you have ever seen a wounded shape-shifter in his animal form, you can observe a clear, thick fluid runs from his veins as well as blood. This is fact. Clearly there must be another substance to balance. If this clear fluid is perhaps in existence to maintain a shifting, there must be a substance to regulate our transformation to the human form. How are these substances different in those shape-shifter races who can shift between their animal form at will compared to those, like our Legion enemy, who cannot?"
Could it all come down to science and not magic? Bijou wondered as she set down the book and rubbed her eyes. Maybe there was a simple antidote to mating magic in here somewhere. Of course, this was the medieval equivalent of science, which was pretty magical compared to the practical nature of contemporary medicine. Not that shape-shifters had much need for human medicine since they were long-lived, healed quickly and almost never caught human diseases.
She carefully turned the pages of the manuscript, looking for the symbol that represented this clear fluid the author had described. The author was correct. She had noticed the substance herself, though she'd never paid much attention to body fluids when she was in wolf form. But then again, had she seen it only when she was in wolf form? She was tempted to prick her finger and find out, but she didn't want to get blood on the old book, so she went back to carefully turning the pages. There was the symbol for humors again, toward the back.
"One can surmise that, in the situation where one of us is separated from their mate, the humors are disturbed. Perhaps the humor regulating the human form is no longer present in a shape-shifter except as it acts upon their mate. Something changes in the body once true mates are joined. That would explain why many shape-shifters find it difficult to hold on to a fully human form when they have been separated from their mates for many months."
What? Why had she never heard this before? She set down the book. Medieval medicine or not, this hypothesis did explain exactly what appeared to be going on with Pompey. The question was, had the science or magic or whatever it was advanced to the point of fixing the problem before these books and the knowledge they contained had been lost? It didn't seem likely, since treating the humors hadn't done much for human patients in the medieval era. She knew that bloodletting, in fact, had been deadly at times.
She leafed through the rest of the book, looking for the symbols she needed, but couldn't find anything more. The treatise hadn't given her any clue as to what this substance might be, what it might look like.
If it even existed.
Several hours past her usual stopping time, she'd been through nine of the twelve books and her head was pounding. She hadn't heard from Pompey either. Why hadn't he been eager to contact her in response to her phone message, considering her body held the key to his physical decline? Did he have too much pride to ask her for help? Or maybe he really couldn't stand her and preferred to stay away even at risk of his own health? What a depressing thought. Locking the books back into the cabinet, she left Nana's house and walked back to hers through the cool, dark night in a foul mood.
When she saw her car in her driveway, she knew she'd have to drive to Pompey's. What she couldn't solve with research or science, she'd have to fix with simple contact. She couldn't let her little wolf's father deteriorate any further, even if he didn't want to see her. Maybe an hour or so together would be enough to bolster his strength and return him to human form.
He probably wouldn't be home this early, but he had given her access upon demand so she could bring over anything she needed. After all, their wedding was only three weeks away. She wondered when he would be home. Probably very late, and she needed to get quite a bit of rest.
Ironically, even pregnant, she could probably sacrifice the rest more readily than he could in his deteriorated condition. She'd survive one late night.
Without even entering her house, she got in her car and drove to his. Otherwise she might never get up the nerve to visit him. Her nipples hardened in anticipation as she saw his house. Traitorous body. The mere thought of Pompey brought it alive and wanting. She left her car in his driveway and entered his house from the side door to the kitchen behind the garage, which had a fingerprint lock.
The house was silent and had a dusty, decayed feeling, like it was deteriorating along with its owner. Did these old clan houses, lived in by alphas for generations, take on the characteristics of the owner? Were they alive somehow? Was her refusal to be with him now killing the house too?
She sneezed and when she rubbed her nose, her fingers came away black. The old books she'd been translating were coated with the dust of ages. Surely she had time to take a shower before Pompey appeared. She went down the halls to his glorious bathroom, glad to have an excuse to check it out again.
The space was as glorious as she remembered and definitely something to look forward to when they lived together. That and regular brain-dissolving sex.
Standing in the spiral reminded her of that first night. It was easy to remember due to the scent of the soap Pompey used filling dim mosaic-covered space. This time, when she found the spray that lined up so perfectly with her pussy, she spread her legs and let it pound against her. She arched into the water, leaning her head against her hands above it and pretended Pompey's fingers were touching her intimately.
Could she allow herself regret that she hadn't let him touch her all along? Her hips moved with the water spray as she reminded herself that on July fifth he had left, deserting her even though he'd brought roses.
He'd only courted her that one night.
She came with tears in her eyes, then moved aside and shuddered against the wall. It wasn't the same as a strong body against hers, but her orgasm helped her relax a little. She wiped her eyes. At least the tears had stopped as quickly as they began. Pregnancy hormones were funny. Pompey hadn't done anything wrong. He respected her work and wanted to give her time to do it. That was all. She was the one who had told him to stay away.
As she calmed her breathing, she heard steps outside the shower. A man's steady footfalls. Her nostrils flared, her wolf senses picking up the musk of her mate's body.
She ran out of the spiral.
"Pompey?"
He looked even more tired than she had expected, more aged and wolflike. She had to blink away more tears, a little afraid to touch him.
His hands stilled at the tie on his throat. "Bijou." He cleared his throat.
Gods. He was still so beautiful.
"Why are you...well, why are you naked in my shower?" he asked.
"I was dusty," she explained, defiantly refusing to cover up. She felt water drip off her body, pooling on the floor. "I called you this morning but I never heard from you."
"I never got the message. The office must not have clarified it as a number one priority."
"Your future wife isn't the highest priority?" she snapped, her concern coming out as anger.
He pulled off his tie. She could see his fingers trembled. "I'll get that fixed in the morning, make sure you're at the top of the list. I'm sorry. Is anything wrong?"
She took a step toward him and began to unbutton his shirt for him. His hands went limp at his sides, as if her help was an almost necessary relief.
"Nothing is wrong with me. I'm blooming. It's you I'm worried about."
"Blooming? Aren't you having...problems?"
"No. Nothing has changed for me in that regard." She pulled his shirt off his shoulders and glanced up at his face. Didn't he know? Couldn't he sense their cub growing inside her? She had to admit though, it was a surprise to her that the pregnancy protected her from deteriorating physically. She put her hands to his belt and unbuckled it.
"Bijou, I need to get my shoes off first or I'll fall over when you try to pull my pants off."
"Of course." She pushed her damp hair out of her eyes as he bent and slipped off his shoes.
When he had straightened again, she said, "I'm pregnant. I guess I thought you'd know that, though there's no reason why you would."
She pulled down his zipper. His hand stilled hers. She was sure he hadn't meant to do that with her hand only one thin cotton layer above his growing cock.
He shook his head. "I hoped, of course, but I didn't know."
She wished he looked happy and excited, but she suspected he was too tired to find the energy for emotion. "That's why I sped up the wedding, instead of taking the entire six months you offered me."
"I guessed." He stepped away from her, letting her hand drop from his crotch. As he pulled off his slacks he said, "That's wonderful news. Exactly what I'd hoped for."
His exhausted appearance kept her from attacking his lack of enthusiasm. At least he was saying the right things. "You sound so tired, Pompey, not thrilled at all. What's wrong? Has something else happened since the fender bender or are you just as tired as you look?"
He kicked off his socks. "You know about that?"
Her damp body was beginning to chill. She crossed her arms over herself. "I saw it in the newspaper."
"I see."
She saw a glint in his eye now, as he took in her form. Something about the way she'd accidentally plumped her breasts above her chilly arms must have piqued his interest. Could she be giving him strength so quickly?
"What brings you by? What was I supposed to call you about?"
"I wanted to check on you. After the car accident."
He stepped toward her. "Is that all?"
"I thought being with me might help you a little. To regain your strength."
"What did you have in mind?"
She took an involuntary step back toward the safety of the shower. But a puddle of water was right behind her and she slipped, just a little.
His arms were around her in a blur of motion. Where had the energy come from?
"You move pretty fast for a half moon," she said, leaning her head into his chest. Only his formfitting blue boxers separated her from his naked body.
"When my lady stops by for a booty call, it refreshes me." He sounded like his old self for a moment.
She put her hands on his chest. "A booty call? I'm just here to keep you going!"
He took her hands in his and slowly inched them down his broad, warm chest to the top of his boxers. She was certain his chest was much fuzzier than it had been, but the hair felt silky, springy. "Don't you want me?"
"That's not why I came." But her pussy was soft and relaxed from her orgasm and even now, she could feel moisture between her lips. She didn't fight the urge to press herself against his hard thigh.
"But could you come?" he asked. "For me?" He pulled their joined fingers down his boxers, pulling them off together.
His cock sprang free, this potent part of him uninjured by his deterioration. She was glad.
"You're still so perfect," she moaned, looking at his thick length. The large head wept a drop of fluid as she caressed him with her fingers.
He led her back to the shower, which was still misting water. The steamy air had her senses reeling and she didn't curb her impulse to kneel at his feet and take him in her mouth as he leaned against the wall.
The relative darkness gave her a sense of otherworldliness, timelessness. She licked and suckled his hot cock, playing with the insides of his thighs with her fingers. When he gasped, she moved her hand to his balls and cupped them in her palm, gently massaging them as she took him deep into her throat.
Then, he was pushing her away, grabbing her as if to lift her against the wall. But she felt his arms tremble and didn't want him to have to take her weight. She turned around, bent forward and came up on her tiptoes to give him access, her body trembling with need.
His hands pulled her hips to him, tilting her butt. His cock slid between her cheeks. She wondered where he would enter her, but then he pushed into her pussy in a violent thrust of homecoming. Her channel tightened around him instinctively.
She felt filled beyond hope and remembered this was her true mate, the one her body had been craving for so long. How could she have denied herself this pleasure, this intensity?
His hands left her hips as he thrust, their bodies perfectly aligned. The scent of his body mingled with the clean soapy aroma in the shower, enveloping her in him. He put one hand on the wall above her, his head curled around hers, nuzzling her hair. The other went to her pussy, his fingers encircling her clit.
"Harder," she moaned. "Don't you dare be gentle with me."
"Bijou," he gasped, pushing his palm hard against her clit while simultaneously slamming into her pussy. Her body began to tremble, jerking forward and back, unsure whether it wanted to push onto his cock or forward into his hand.
"You're the best," she cried. "Don't ever stop!"
He said her name again, then she lost control, bliss coming over her in waves. He pulled out as her inner walls began to clench at him, pushing gently into her other hole.
"I don't want to stop," he said.
She leaned forward to give him the permission he craved, still locked in her orgasm.
He thrust slowly into her virgin hole. She felt no pain through her pleasure, letting him take her as the waves of her orgasm controlled any fear she might have felt at having her anus breached. This was mating, this was coming home. She wanted him to take everything she had to offer, endlessly. But she had gripped him with her body and he couldn't resist her tight rear channel long. Soon the warmth of his cum filled her, the new sensation bringing her to another, even stronger peak.
As he pulled out, they both sank to their knees.
"I'll never forget this," he said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him. "I feel a million times better."
"I'm glad."
"I'm so happy about the baby. I didn't hurt you just now, did I?"
She heard his concern and smiled sleepily. "I'm a wolf. You can't hurt me with sex. Remember our first night together?"
"How could I forget? You're made for me," he said against her hair. "Tonight was magic."
After a few minutes, he stood up and stepped into the center of the shower spiral and turned off the water, then returned with thick towels for them both. Her body had given in to fatigue, so she let him dry her off and lead her into his bedroom, where he tucked her in.
"Aren't you coming to bed now?" she asked.
"I've got work to do. I'll sleep on the sofa in my office, so I don't disturb you. I don't have time to do more than take a nap."
"You should have been sleeping now," she said, feeling bad. "I stole your rest time." Though time had seemed to stop in the shower, she had the feeling they'd made love for nearly an hour.
"Don't regret it for a second," he said, kissing the top of her head. "I don't. That was so much better than sleep."
She snuggled into the pillow. It smelled like him.
"Get some rest," he commanded.
She obeyed so swiftly that she didn't hear him leave the room.
The next day she was back in Nana's basement on her stool, a little more stiffly than the day before, a product of her night in a strange bed and Pompey's very thorough lovemaking. She was huddled over another of the books from the cabinet, this one a manuscript of legends in the ancient tongue. Other than her stiffness, everything seemed so much the same that she wondered if her hour with Pompey had ever happened. She almost wanted to leave and drive back to his house to check for evidence of her moments there.
She was resolute about getting her work done though. Time was short and she had to finalize wedding preparations too so she couldn't stay working late into the night. Thankfully there wasn't much to be done when you were getting married at City Hall.
The night had made changes in her despite her sense of unreality. She felt different, more committed, and her hopes for her marriage were different too. If that were all she had nibbling at the back of her brain she'd be content. There had been nothing but peace and pleasure between them. Perhaps their long separation had taken the fight out of him and her concern about his health had taken the irritation out of her.
He hadn't been there when she woke up and hadn't left a note or any other clue as to his feelings. Just like last time, but there was a difference since she knew how busy and tired he was. His lack of communication wasn't responsible for her new sense of danger. She had never been psychic but perhaps her pregnancy was changing her. Either that or reading the ancient tongue was having an effect. She knew something was very wrong. Sadness, despair, shame and disgrace. Nana's words from July's tarot reading drifted back into her head. She dismissed the memory. That was all past now. Those words were the story of the night she and Pompey had met. She couldn't approach Nana now when she was so focused on the Nana had told her not to read, but if she did have another reading she was sure the tarot cards would offer her an entirely different picture.
What could she do, except continue with her work? Hopefully she'd at least opened a channel of communication with her mate. In reality, their future was brighter than before, no matter her nerves. Maybe all of her foreboding was pregnancy hormones again, like last night's tears.
She pulled the next scroll case from the locked cabinet. Why were the books in scroll cases instead of book boxes anyway? Were they translations from even older materials?
Gently, she blew dust away from the cover. Her eyes widened as she translated the symbols worked into the leather. On the Treatment of Humors? Could this be practical medicine or magic at last? Eagerly, she began to read.
\*
Magnus stretched his legs in the parking lot of the lodge building where he'd just given a luncheon speech. He ignored the gray sky and light drizzle, grateful for a moment alone. Could it really be only a month and a day until the election? It already seemed like he'd been giving speeches and talking to constituents so long that his lips were ready to split from all the smiling. Where would he find the strength?
Thank Jupiter for Bijou and even the fender bender that had brought her to him last night. The sex had been incredible and he felt five years younger than he had before seeing her, loving her last night. Certainly not restored to his former robust strength but on the road back.
He glanced at his watch. Where was his driver? He had resorted to help from a Legion youth, Septimus, so he could make calls while being zigzagged across town. That and he was hoping to avoid further accidents. He bit back a yawn as he pulled out his cell phone to call his driver, but there was Septimus with the car now.
Stepping carefully to avoid getting mud on his shoes, he pulled open the unlocked back door of the sedan and got in.
"Alpha," Septimus greeted. His voice sounded strained.
Magnus frowned. What had happened to his driver's usual juvenile cheer? Usually the kid greeted him with a silly joke. He gave the dark-eyed youth a tired smile. "I didn't think to check my schedule. Where are we off to next?"
"The preserve properties."
"Why there? The sale hasn't been finalized yet."
The kid shrugged and smiled, a little forced, Magnus thought. Was something wrong or was he simply imagining things?
It was probably just the gloom of the day and the lack of sleep. He put his cell phone to his ear and checked his messages.
\*
Bijou found herself hitting the limits of her translation ability very quickly. This book was more technical than the others and she had to guess at many of the symbol meanings. The book seemed to be part herbal medicine guide, part book of spells. At least there were pictures of some of the herbs and she recognized treatments including fumitory, borage and dandelion though she didn't understand much of the text beneath them.
Then there were the spells. The language was more common there and often referred to the humors and elements of water and air, earth and fire. Her gaze scanned the text. What were you supposed to do with these spells? Chant them while you were compounding herbal remedies? Say them under a full moon? They could even be part of sex magic, like this one here, To Share Strength With a Partner.
She felt a gust of air rush into the room as the door opened. Instinctively, she pushed the ancient book behind her to protect it.
Nana stepped in, holding a tray. "I brought you some lunch, dear. I know you're happy as a cub in June down here, but you have to think of the baby." She plunked the wooden tray on Bijou's lap.
"Minestrone and fresh bread, plus salad. Very healthy."
"Thanks, Nana." She was touched by the attention, but she'd rather get back to the book than eat. "How did you know I was pregnant?"
"Barkley told me."
The advisor shared too much, Bijou thought sourly. Could he see deceit too? Was Nana here for more than to bring her food? She hadn't offered before.
"What's this?" Nana asked, moving to her left as Bijou took a bite of bread. "Why is this cabinet unlocked?"
Uh-oh. "Wasn't it supposed to be?" Bijou asked slowly.
"These belong to my family," Nana said. "They aren't part of the official archive." She grabbed one of the scroll boxes and put it on a shelf, then moved toward the others.
Bijou turned on her stool, placing her tray over the box she'd dropped the tenth book into and closed in her elbows around it, so Nana couldn't see her blocking one of the boxes.
Thankfully, Nana didn't seem aware of the number of scroll boxes and appeared satisfied with eleven of them.
"There we go," She said, locking the cabinet. "You have plenty to look at in your last weeks here, Bijou, without digging into my family's private things."
Bijou forced a smile, even as she felt a door slamming between her and her Brotherhood past. Nana had never referred to the time she had left before. It felt like a betrayal, even though she was one changing loyalties.
She wasn't though, was she? She would still be loyal to the Brotherhood, even married to the Legion alpha. But that wasn't realistic and Nana knew that.
"Thanks for the lunch," she called, hoping Nana would bustle out, certain that Bijou didn't know how to translate the ancient language. Nothing in those scroll cases might be of value, but that one spell in particular was certainly intriguing.
\*
Septimus parked in front of an old farmhouse that abutted the first of six properties the wildlife preserve fund was purchasing. The place looked deserted.
Magnus put his phone back into his pocket. "Who am I meeting here? The buyers? Offering more reassurances that they're doing the right thing?"
The passenger door to his left opened. "No," said an oily voice. "You're meeting me."
Magnus looked up to see the stocky form of Brutus in loose-fitting clothing. His eyes had gone black, ready for battle. Magnus could smell bloodlust on the shape-shifter. Two of Brutus' relatives stood behind him, young men in the peak of physical strength. His eyes narrowed as the reality of his situation hit him. The bastard was going to challenge him for alpha status today of all days! Why not wait until the full moon? It was less than a week away.
Then he knew the full extent of Julian and Brutus' plan. Even if they only beat him to a pulp today, he wouldn't heal quickly like he would in wolf form. He'd still be in the hospital on Election Day. He'd miss all his campaigning time, even his own wedding. They intended to finish him, whether he was dead or not.
The rough hands of Brutus' sturdy cousins pulled him from the sedan. He pulled back, ripping his coat jacket.
Brutus frowned. "Stronger than I thought, considering your appearance lately. I guess the camera does lie a little." He aimed a punch at Magnus' stomach.
Unable to move away from it, since he was backed up against the car, he took the full force of Brutus' fist pounding his ribs.
"Why today?" he ground out. "The election is important for all of us. We need a shape-shifter presence in politics. You think this preserve will go through without my support?"
"Your rival is in my pocket too," Julian sneered, stepping down from the porch where he'd been standing while Magnus received the first punch. "We'll get what we want, everything that's ours. It's time to take back what your father stole."
Magnus couldn't care less about defending his father and his fair combat defeat of the alpha before him. Their rocky relationship was of the past. He worried about his child, his mate. What would his death do to them? Did they know about Bijou? Would they go after her next to completely avenge their family?
Brutus grabbed Magnus' tie, jerking him forward. The air stopped flowing between Magnus' lungs and brain, making his head swim.
Knowing he didn't have much strength, he decided he'd have to fight dirty. He leaned into Brutus, then brought his knee up between the other shape-shifter's legs. His knee slammed into hard plastic. The bastard was wearing a protective cup.
Magnus fell back in shock. He didn't even have car keys to use as a weapon, because the traitorous Septimus had them. All he had were his wallet and cell phone.
Brutus' fist rose. Magnus turned and ran as fast as his weakened body allowed, pulling his cell phone from his pocket as he headed into the farmland.
Most shape-shifters didn't exercise. They didn't need to, since their human form reflected the time they spent in the shape of an active wolf. But Magnus liked to run. It was his escape from an alpha and politician's life of responsibility and limited privacy. In fact, that's what he'd been doing the night the Brotherhood caught him. Certainly he couldn't outpace a teenage shape-shifter in wolf form, but he could stay ahead of Brutus for a time, at least.
He found Bijou's phone number, thankful his secretary had programmed it in.
"Hello?"
"Bijou, it's Magnus." Hearing her voice brought back poignant memories of the night before, how touched he'd been that she'd come to bring him strength and share news of their pregnancy.
Paper rustled. "You sound out of breath."
"I'm running for my life. Brutus is going to kill me. I'm sorry. I'm not strong enough. And he's well prepared. Get to your brothers. Make sure you're protected in case they come after you next."
She broke into his speech before he could tell her how he felt, how thrilled he was that she cared about him. "How can I help?"
Were their bonds strong enough now for him to ask for help? Could he trust his mate? True mates' lives were intertwined and he now realized one couldn't succeed without the other. Perhaps she had understood this before he had and maybe there was a way out of this. He couldn't let her die. "Would the Brotherhood ally with me?"
"I don't know. But my brothers, I'll call them." She sounded uncertain.
He immediately regretted his request for help. She needed to stay out of this. He could find a way to survive on his own. "I don't want you to get involved. Your first priority is the baby. They're out for blood. They'll do more than shame me and I don't know if they know about you."
He heard his voice catch in his throat. He looked back. He'd gained a hundred yards on Brutus but eventually the cousins would come in cars, or Septimus would, the damned traitor. Would there be enough time for help from the Brotherhood, if they would even help their clanswoman's secret mate? He'd have called his own loyal friends and supporters in the Legion, but Bijou's safety was his first priority and he only had time for one call.
"I saw a spell, Magnus, just this morning in a book hidden in a secret cache at Barkley and Nana's house. I don't even know if this magic spell works."
"What are you talking about?" He gasped as much as spoke the words now, as he ran.
"I've been translating material from an ancient tongue. This spell is called 'to share strength with a partner'," she said. "I'll recite it. Maybe it will work."
"Don't," he shouted. As an alpha he was vaguely aware of the ancient magic, and knew it had stopped being used long ago for good reason. "You might hurt yourself or the baby. I don't want your strength. You need it."
But it was too late. As he ran she started speaking unintelligible phrases in that bell-clear voice of hers. "Call your brothers," he ordered, trying to get her to stop, but she ignored him.
She paused for a second, then continued to recite. Suddenly he felt the wind in his ears more keenly, a wolf's senses rather than a man's. The hair on his head prickled, as if the longer strands were receding into his head and new follicles were erupting. His nose began to itch like it was forming into a wolf's snout.
But it wasn't the full moon. What was happening?
His skull elongated and began to taper forward. His jaw grew and his teeth strengthened. The cell phone dropped to the ground as his hand became a paw. He bent down on all fours and skidded to a stop, his clothes shredding around him.
He was back! Even his ribs had stopped hurting where Brutus punched him. He was full of the joy of the hunt, despite the day, despite the sunshine. As long as Brutus and his allies weren't packing guns with silver bullets he would be the victor that day. No one stuck in human form could best a wolf.
He took off like a shot back toward Brutus. He could run close to forty miles an hour in wolf speed, so it didn't take more than an instant to return him to his rival. That was all the time he had to think of Bijou, hope his mate and child were safe, hope there had been some strength in Bijou's body left for them.
At the sight of the wolf, Brutus stopped running forward. His face was red with exertion and Magnus felt satisfaction that his exercise routine had finally been justified after years of derision from Julian and others. Brutus' eyes lost a little of their black rage.
"What?" he asked. "How?"
Magnus growled at Brutus. The high-pitched noise he made ended at a snapping snatch for the shape-shifter's throat. Brutus fell over backward, confusion still in his eyes, then was still.
Magnus woofed in surprise then circled the unmoving form. His keen sense of smell picked up the hot bite of blood in the air. Yes, it was trickling from the side of Brutus' skull. The traitor's heart had stopped beating.
He pawed at the figure, enough to find a rock under Brutus' head. To think this is what would take the shape-shifter out. He hadn't even needed to kill Brutus. The gods were aligned with him. Bijou's sacrifice had won the day. But would there be a cost?
He howled his victory to the sky then took off at a fast lope toward the farmhouse where danger still waited. The figures of Brutus' four allies were soon in sight. He saw their shock at his werewolf form. Before they could react in any meaningful way, he raised his paw to each of the four faces and swiped his claws across their tender human flesh, marking their cheeks to the bone.
"How?" Julian asked, blood pouring from his face. The other three ran for Magnus' car, slamming the doors behind them.
Magnus heard the door locks click. He was amused. Shape-shifters should know that a werewolves like themselves could break into a car. Hell, he could crush the damn thing. What cowards. They were outcast from this day. The engine came to life. Later, he'd report the car stolen, have them thrown into a human jail where they'd never see the moon.
When the car moved away, Magnus felt the change overtake him again. Did the magic know the threat to him was over? Or had Bijou's strength given out? Soon, he stood in human form and had returned to the limited strength he'd had before the change.
Thank Jupiter, Julian was an old man and a tactical threat, not a physical one.
"You must have Greek blood in you," Julian sneered.
Julian didn't know about the magic. As far as Magnus knew, only alphas and elder advisors did. Julian's brother, the alpha before the elder Pompey had successfully challenged him, had guarded his secrets well. Thank the gods.
"Perhaps," Magnus said, hoping to keep the confrontation short so he could get to Bijou. "Your nephew is dead."
"Murderer," Julian gasped.
Magnus chuckled grimly. The bastard would feign shock now? "No, the gods took his life from him before he could take mine. Your lust for power will never bear fruit now, Julian."
The old man put a hand to his bleeding face as if just now noticing it.
"Yes, you are marked forever. Leave now. You are no longer welcome in my territory or anywhere else the Legion has allies."
Julian pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his face, then walked slowly around the side of the house. A minute later, Magnus heard an engine start. He retraced his steps into the farmland, looking for his fallen cell phone. Bijou needed his help and he had to report Brutus' death.
He jogged back into the field, again a naked, vulnerable politician. Never had he felt so weak and what if his pregnant, vulnerable mate was in worse condition? Had she been able to call her brothers? When it began to rain, he shook his fist at the sky with a grim expression. "C'mon, Jupiter. You give me victory, now offer me pneumonia as a reward?"
There was a thrashing in the undergrowth to his left, then two huge wolves with reddish-tinged pelts tipped by copper bounded into the grass ahead of him. Brotherhood. He had a sense of déjà vu. This was how that night in the park in July had begun. Had they come to help or to harm? Calmly, Magnus stood his ground, looking for a weapon. He might not have the strength to fight if necessary, but he still had his brain.
One of them had a pack in its mouth. It dropped it to the grass. Magnus recognized it as an emergency pack. The Legion had the same, though they didn't need them as often, since they only shifted at the preordained time.
These wolves must be friends. The larger of the two began to shift. Magnus watched in fascination. It wasn't a sight a Legion shape-shifter saw often, since they were shifting at the same time as everyone else.
When the shift was complete, a large red-headed man with a workman's muscular form stood in front of him. The eyes were familiar.
"You're a relative of Bijou? Is she okay?"
"I'm Asta," he said, as the other wolf shifted to human form. "She's fine. Why wouldn't she be?"
The light dawned. His mate hadn't just cast a spell, she'd been able to call for help too. Thank Jupiter she hadn't suffered from her spell-casting. "You're Bijou's older brother."
"Right." He gestured to the other young man, unsmiling. "You've met Duke before."
"I'm afraid so." Magnus nodded coldly at the youth.
Asta pointed to the pack. "I didn't know your sizes, so I just grabbed a men's large pack. Hopefully it will get you through for now. Do you have transportation?"
"I'm looking for my phone. I was betrayed by my driver." He grabbed the pack and pulled out a pair of jeans.
"Bummer. So what's the deal? I expected to find you being chewed on."
"I'm not sure," Magnus said. Would Bijou have told her brother what happened? Did she even know she'd transformed him? As much as his pride made him want to spin a tale of brave deeds, especially considering his history with Duke, his honesty forced him to share the truth. "It was a comedy of errors, really. I was challenged for leadership of the Legion, but the challenger fell and hit his head on a rock."
"Did it kill him?" Duke asked, sounding impressed, despite the accidental way Magnus had won.
"Yes." He pulled out a t-shirt next and put it on. A pair of sandals was at the bottom. Not seasonal footwear, but of course they would fit more men than any given pair of shoes.
"Do you want us to take care of the body, or do you want to leave it for the human authorities?" Asta asked.
"I genuinely didn't touch him. As long as I get my cell phone and the scraps of my clothes out of here, my presence shouldn't be detected." He slipped his feet into the sandals and picked up the now-empty pack.
Asta nodded. "Duke, retrieve what's left of his clothes."
Duke's head bent, clearly irritated by the command. Magnus suppressed an urge to laugh at his tormenter's comeuppance. Being nineteen was tough. You thought you knew everything but there were still so many who thought they were the boss of you.
"Thanks again," Magnus said. "I'm going to keep hunting for my phone."
Asta nodded. "I'll check on the body, just in case."
"Thanks." Magnus walked forward again, keeping his eyes on the ground. A moment later, a wolf bounded past him, following bent grass from his earlier footsteps.
Asta wasn't the only shape-shifter next to Brutus' cooling corpse when Magnus arrived, slightly out of breath after a long jog. Bijou's red-pelted brother had been joined by two other wolves who must have come from the opposite direction across the farm. One was older, his pelt gone gray, the other still in the peak of life, with silver-tipped fur.
Barkley and King, the Brotherhood's alpha, he suspected. What did they want? They both held aggressive postures. Ears and tails were erect, their bodies stiff. Had Julian and Brutus allied with the Brotherhood? Was his mate's clan against him? If they were to attack now, he had little hope, no covering other than the items of clothing Asta had brought, no weapons but his weakened human body.
The older wolf growled and sniffed the air. He put his nose to the ground, then his shoulders, before rolling his entire body on the ground near Brutus' corpse, as if to absorb some substance into his fur.
When he rose, he hissed at Magnus, eyes flashing. Asta turned sideways, as if he would protect Magnus from Barkley's attack. Barkley yipped at King, then they turned, bounding away.
Magnus let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. Barkley had been very angry and he was dangerous shape-shifter to cross. Well over a hundred years old, he had the respect and fear of all, as well as arcane abilities that were rare in today's shape-shifters. No one knew the full extent of Barkley's powers. Had he sensed the spell Bijou placed on him?
Asta barked inquiringly at him as the others receded into the distance. Behind them came pounding paws but it was Duke with his mouth full of the remains of Magnus' clothing. Magnus opened the empty pack and Duke spat the clothing scraps into it.
"I think Bijou may be in danger," Magnus said. "I've never known the Brotherhood to get in my business before. They certainly didn't investigate when my father was murdered, not that I'd have welcomed them into Legion business."
Duke growled, clearly asking a question.
"Bijou used magic," Magnus explained. "I don't know how she did it, but she cast a spell on me. I shifted without a full moon, probably right where Barkley did his scent-roll. He didn't attack me though. What if he's going after Bijou next?"
Asta's eyes widened as Duke howled and leapt into the air. Then they both took off at top speed in the direction that Barkley and King had taken.
Magnus ran too, still searching for his cell phone. He found it two minutes later and called Bijou with shaking fingers.
She answered on the fourth ring.
"Are they there?" he demanded.
"Who? Are you okay?" His mate sounded listless, like she was half asleep.
"I'm fine, the spell worked." She didn't sound quite right. What if her brothers hadn't realized the spell had affected her?
"You're kidding." Magnus could hear the wonder in Bijou's slurring voice. "Who would have guessed it, me, a sorceress? If I'm translating properly, not anyone could do the chants and actually make a spell work. You need to have an innate ability too."
"Are there any defense spells in this book you're reading?" he asked. There was no time for idle chat.
"Why?"
"Barkley knows what happened somehow. He was here along with King, in wolf form and very unhappy. They took off without communicating their intent. Your brothers are behind them but still, I'm worried about you. Can you shift me again?"
There was a pause on the line. "I don't think so, to be honest. It took a lot out of me. But I can try."
"Don't, you might hurt the baby. Are you inside? Lock down. Your brothers aren't too far behind King and Barkley."
"They won't hurt me," she yawned.
"You aren't Brotherhood anymore, Bijou, you're Legion. Their age-long enemy."
"They let me in their archives." Another pause. "Oh."
"What?" he barked.
"I broke into a locked cabinet to get this spell book." She sounded sheepish. "Barkley's mother caught me with the cabinet open, but I don't think she knows I took the book."
"Bijou!" Magnus exclaimed.
"I wanted to help you. I was worried. I need to understand mate magic. How do the tattoos work? And that door in your bedroom? I need to know."
"You need to be safe." His pride in his mate's stubbornness and achievement paled against his fear. "Are you inside?"
"Yes. I didn't know where you were when you called or I'd have come to you. I'm glad my brothers figured it out."
"You've done enough. Are the doors locked?"
"I think so." She sounded vague.
"Make sure," he ordered. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
He continued to talk to Bijou as he ran back to the farmhouse. King and Barkley didn't arrive, but her brothers did, so he disconnected, telling her he'd be there soon. Brutus had left his car parked behind the old farmhouse and since he wouldn't need it again Magnus searched it, finding a key hidden in a little magnetized box under the car. He started it up and drove to Bijou's house while calling his secretary and canceling all meetings.
Then he called his own advisors and told them to arm five of their trusted prime-of-life sons and send them to Bijou's home. He or his spouse might need a guard.
Magnus pulled Brutus' car into the alley behind Bijou's house and parked alongside her neighbor's garage. He had a feeling Brutus would have an arsenal in his car, so he checked the glove box and the trunk. He found a silver dagger with a wooden safety handle in a case hidden in the glove box and a shotgun with a box of silver bullets in the trunk. He loaded it gingerly, careful not to touch the bullets, then got out and opened the gate into Bijou's backyard. It was deserted.
He stepped onto the porch, senses on alert. The curtains were drawn across the glass doors. Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he called Bijou.
"Hey, I'm on your back porch. Everything okay?"
"So far. Hold on."
Footsteps clattered behind the door as the phone went dead, then he heard a click as she undid a lock. He drank in the sight of her tall form as she opened the door.
Her eyes looked large and bright in her pale face. Underneath were shadows he hadn't seen below her eyes before. She held out a hand, a tentative smile on her lips. He stepped through the door and locked it behind him, setting the shotgun against the wall.
Ignoring the weapon, she locked her arms around his waist and put her head against his heart. He made sure the dagger at his belt was covered so it was no danger to her. "I was so worried about you. I knew there was a chance you'd be challenged but I hoped if we kept your shaming a secret it would be okay."
"It's okay," Magnus soothed. "Brutus is dead. I doubt I'll be challenged again and every moment we're together I grow stronger. I just wish you hadn't risked yourself."
"I'm okay, just a little tired. A nap is all I need."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." She raised her troubled face to his. "I shouldn't have demanded we take a break from each other. At the very least I should have let you court me. I was selfish, thinking only of my work."
"I understand. I focus on mine too much too," Magnus said, running his hand down her hair. "It's hard to give up what you love, but we have files, you know, including the results of espionage targeting generations of the Brotherhood. You have a lifetime of research ahead of you."
He felt her smile. "Can you believe it? I should have known magic really exists. Otherwise how would the mating tattoo be created? But no one ever talks about magic."
Duke and Asta stepped into the kitchen in front of them, both in human form. They looked serious. Bijou left Magnus' embrace and moved toward her brothers.
"What happened?" Asta asked. "We've been too busy checking the house to ask."
"You need to decide loyalties," Magnus said. "You're Brotherhood but your sister is Legion now. That's going to matter."
"You really think there's going to be a battle?" Duke asked.
"You saw Barkley. He was furious. The only question is where did they go after they left Brutus' body?"
"They could have gone to the police to accuse you of murdering him."
Magnus shook his head. "Barkley isn't stupid. He knows they'd never get away with it. There's no evidence. No one saw Brutus die and it's going to be clear no one touched him and that the rock killed him."
"Are you injured? They could find your blood. And why would he have fallen in an open field?"
"It will be a mystery. I'm not bleeding anymore. The shift I made healed the wounds from Brutus' initial attack in front of the farmhouse. And we picked up all my clothing scraps."
Asta shrugged. "Then what might King and Barkley be after?"
"I stole something from them," Bijou said.
Asta raised a red eyebrow. "You what?"
"Nana caught me with a locked cabinet I'd broken into and I instinctively hid the book I was reading, a spell book."
"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to mess with Nana? I know you've always felt close to her, but most of us find her terrifying," Asta said.
"This was important. I wanted to understand mating, why we'd die if we were apart. There are also the tattoos and some other things I wanted to make sense of."
"Where is the book now?" Magnus asked, wondering if she'd hoped to break their true mate bond. Personally, he didn't believe it was possible to do so. Did she still want to leave him if it were possible?
"In my bedroom."
The doorbell rang. Bijou's face went even paler. As Magnus reached for her, she swayed on her feet. He grabbed her, realizing she wasn't as well as she claimed. She needed more than a nap to set her straight. Asta took a step forward as Duke's hands curled into fists.
"We need to call Cere," Duke said. "We should stand together."
"He's fifty miles from here rebuilding a mountain road. There's no phone service," Asta said.
Magnus released Bijou from his embrace after ensuring she was steadier. "I called in some backup. It might be them." He grabbed the gun.
"But they'd be Legion," Duke protested. "Why would they help us?"
"Loyalties," Magnus reminded him. "Your sister is Legion now. You need to choose. This might be time for you to leave."
He walked out the kitchen and down the hall toward the front door. Duke followed him into Bijou's large living room. The jewel-toned drapes matched similarly colored area rugs. Her furniture was comfortable loveseats and painted pine tables, covered with books and magazines. The art on the wall was vibrant and abstract.
Resting the shotgun against his shoulder, Magnus opened the front door. A dozen men and one aged woman stood on the front porch. Barkley, King, Nana. Their advisors plus his men too, the five guards he'd ordered. Everyone's eyes were narrowed, their faces hard and battle-ready. At least the Brotherhood representatives were back in human form.
He stepped aside, allowing only the first three to enter. Both he and King told the others to wait outside for now. When Magnus walked back inside he saw Asta and Bijou had moved into the living room along with a brown-haired woman who must have entered from the back. A human, though he smelled another shape-shifter on her, a mate.
"Legion alpha," King said.
Magnus turned back to him.
"You are a thief and deceiver," King accused.
"Why?" Magnus said. Because he hadn't died on that field? Had they been allied with Julian?
"I smell Brotherhood magic on you," Barkley said. "That magic is forbidden. How came you by it?"
Oh that.
Bijou stepped beside Magnus. She slipped her hand into his. "My thirst for knowledge made me a thief and a deceiver, but I'm not sorry."
"Child, you don't need to be a part of this," Nana said.
"Of course I do! I took the spell book. I said the spell."
Nana pointed at Magnus. "Did he force you to?"
"Of course not. I was curious. I wanted to understand mate magic. At first, I was hoping to break the bond between us, but it was so obvious Magnus was suffering and I wasn't."
"The pregnancy keeps you strong," Nana said.
"I guessed that. But we shamed Magnus and then our mating made him weak. I couldn't let his rivals destroy him."
"It would mean your life in the end too," Barkley said. "You behaved from selfish motives."
"It wasn't fair!" Bijou shouted. "I wanted my archives, my research, more than my own mate and King let me have my selfish way. Pompey and I were mates but I wouldn't stay with him. I let him suffer, but I couldn't let him die."
"Do you want to be free of him now?" Barkley asked.
Magnus tensed as Bijou answered, "No, not even if it were possible. I've learned to love him and I cast the spell out of love. I didn't know it would work. I only hope he can forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive," Magnus said softly. She squeezed his hand.
"The Brotherhood and Legion are enemies," King said. "But in balance all these years. Now you have destroyed the equality of our gifts."
"Exactly," Bijou said proudly. "And if you war with the Legion, they'll win now, because they have me."
Magnus squeezed her hand back, wondering what effect her words would have on her brothers, who stood still as stone next to the human woman.
"You need to return the book," Nana said.
"It doesn't matter." Bijou tapped her head. "It's all in here now. I'm a trained historian. I will remember. You'll have to kill me if you want equality again."
"The hell they will," Asta said, stepping forward. "We stand with her."
Magnus looked at the steely gaze of his brother-in-law. He saw one who had chosen family over clan. Then Duke stepped to his brother's side, followed by the human woman.
"Aren't you equal now?" the human asked. "From what I've heard, a bunch of Brotherhood youths messed with this guy's ass and now he's got one of your secrets. Doesn't that mean all is fair now?"
"Vi," King reproved. "Our rivalry goes back millennia."
"Yeah, but I'm talking about now. I know I'm just Cere's mate, but it all seems pretty simple to me. Bijou is the Brotherhood's historian. She's important. And now she's married into another clan. You should be allies now."
"Against who?" King asked.
Vi shrugged. "Aren't there some werepanthers or someone else you can hate?"
Magnus saw amusement momentarily override the anger in King's eyes.
"I'm sorry I stole," Bijou said. "How about you shame me? Magnus and I can have matching tattoos on both butt cheeks. You can formally drive me from the clan."
"Yeah," Vi said. "That sounds fair. Not that it changes anything between us, of course."
Bijou smiled at her.
"I have an election to win," Magnus said through his teeth. "They aren't touching you. I kept the bargain I made with King. He can't make any shaming public. Shape-shifters vote too, you know."
"She's going to you in less than six months," King said smoothly. "So yes, the bargain is broken."
"I take it back," Bijou said. "The election is important. There's a common cause. The Brotherhood doesn't have anyone in politics and we need someone with a finger on the human pulse, as it were."
"The mayor of Cherry Blossom has never done us any favors," King said. "Not that we've needed help from the human government or ever will."
"It couldn't hurt. We'll have the wildlife preserve deal completed soon. It will be a great source of food and safe recreation," Magnus told him.
"Are you saying the Brotherhood will be welcome there?" King raised an eyebrow.
"If we're allies, yes."
King glanced at Barkley, who shrugged.
"You can't allow this," Nana protested. "My family has protected our magical knowledge for seven hundred years. It has never left us before."
Magnus hid a smile. Little did she know, but he was sure he had secret copies of all her files in his own archives. His father had many faults, fortunately.
"Nana," Bijou said gently. "Remember my tarot reading? The Wheel of Fortune? The Temperance card? We have to accept change and compromise. I have the knowledge now but I will protect it."
"The Legion will protect it?" Nana spat.
Magnus could see his mate was taken aback by the vehemence of the old woman. "As alpha I vow it," he said. "Bijou has been faithful to you, has she not, except when her child was threatened?"
"You were threatened, not her child."
"If a child's parents die, the child is threatened," King said. "This, I can accept. However, Bijou, all your privileges as historian of the Brotherhood are revoked. As of now, you are Legion. There will be no more deals and this house will be stripped of your research and archival materials."
Bijou swallowed hard. Magnus put an arm around her. "My life's work," she whispered.
"It is no longer your life," King said harshly. He gestured to one of his advisors. "Take Nana and search the house. Remove any part of the Brotherhood's archives."
Magnus glanced at Duke. He could see the boy was wondering where he stood after standing with his sister and her mate. "Are we allies or rivals?" he asked King.
"Does it matter?" the shape-shifter snapped.
"Bijou has family." He tilted his head in her brothers' direction. "Will they be punished for maintaining a relationship with my mate?"
King looked to Barkley. The advisor stared at both of them for a long moment. "I don't see any deceit in them," he finally said.
"They will not be shunned for loving their sister," King replied.
With Nana out of the room, it seemed like the tension had dropped to a great degree. Magnus could see the relief in Duke as his shoulders relaxed.
There would never be a better moment to formalize this relationship. He couldn't see a reason to have a rival at the leadership level with the Brotherhood anyway. It was time to modernize relations. He rested the shotgun against a wall. "In front of these witnesses, I, alpha of the Legion, affirm an alliance with the Brotherhood of the óêõëß." Magnus clenched his fist and placed it over his heart.
King, though stern-faced, made the same gesture. "In front of these witnesses, I, alpha of the Brotherhood of the óêõëß, affirm an alliance with the Legion."
It was done. Magnus nodded, unsmiling. "Let it be forever so."
"This house is owned by the Brotherhood," Barkley said. "Take your personal things now, Bijou. It is no longer your home."
Leave it to an ancient to inject a sour note into the proceedings. "You'll like my house better anyway," he told Bijou. "Hot and cold running archives at your fingertips."
She tried to smile, but only the edges of her lips twitched. "Will my brothers be welcome at your house?" she asked.
"As long as they don't raise their claws to me," Magnus said, glaring theatrically at Duke, who grinned.
Bijou sniffed. "My luggage is in the guestroom."
"I'll get it," Asta said. Duke followed him out of the room.
"And I'll help you pack," Vi said.
"Do we need to get a truck?" Magnus asked, taking his arm from Bijou's shoulders and turning her.
She pushed her hair away from her face, frowning. "No. I really don't have that much. You'd better go. I know you've got meetings, you always do. I'll see you at your house tonight."
"I'd prefer you call it our house," he said.
"I will. I just have to get used to it."
"It will be okay, Bijou. Let's get you packed," Vi said, taking her sister-in-law's arm.
After a quick chat with her brothers and a moment with his guards, instructing two to stay with Bijou and the others to follow him, Magnus went out back to Brutus' car. He did have a great deal to do with the rest of the day, including finding out what the Septimus did with his own car. The Legion would have to retrench. At least it should be clear now who was loyal. He'd have to call a clan meeting and share the events with them as well as figure out how to recover from the political meetings he'd missed.
A long day still stretched ahead and then he'd come home to a grieving mate. He hoped the hours would pass quickly. Bijou had said she loved him and he wanted to know if she meant it.
That evening, after she'd said a rapid, unexpected goodbye to her single life and home of two years, Bijou set the last box containing her clothes into the bedroom closet of the Legion alpha house. She'd had to do this part herself, since her brothers and sister-in-law were blocked from the bedroom by the magical mate door. There was no way for her to keep it open so they could help her with her boxes. The mystery of the door would keep her entertained for a while. She wondered if the Legion archives contained more material in the ancient tongue, maybe even histories to explain where it came from. Pompey had hinted that it might.
For now, she wanted to focus on putting her relationship on a solid footing. As she put clothes back on hangers, hangers into free spots in the closet, her mind wandered over the last three months.
One thing was certain, she knew. Magnus Pompey was true to his word. Her lifetime of trust in Barkley and Nana had been shaken but her confidence in her mate had only grown. The action she had taken, removing the book from the archive, would have been allowed, even encouraged, in her traditional role as the Brotherhood's historian. Nothing had ever been hidden from her before, or so she had thought. Everything had gotten weird when she was in between clans. Even though she'd lost months of research time it was a relief to be back on solid ground.
She was Bijou, Magnus Pompey's mate. Soon she would be his legal wife, the mother of his daughter. Even if the Legion had a historian of its own she could still continue her research.
How though, would she set their new relationship on a good path? She ripped the tape off the bottom of a box and flattened it, then walked out of the closet to put the empty box in the hall with the others. As she passed the bed she had an idea. Hopefully Pompey would delay his return long enough for her to get in a nap first so she'd have the energy to execute her plan.
\*
A long day, Magnus thought, but it had been a satisfying one in so many ways. When he stepped into his gently lit kitchen the house was quiet, but he could sense warmth at its core. Bijou was home. Light filled his heart as he set down a bouquet of roses. She was alone. He hadn't been sure she would be. She would have been perfectly in her rights to have her entire family here rearranging his furniture and making the home her own, even this late at night.
Obviously, she'd chosen a more restful evening and for that he was grateful. He wanted her all to himself, so he could start to show her the love he felt for their new family. Did she even know how much he had learned to care for her, how honored he was by her sacrifices for him? He kicked off his shoes next to the kitchen table and loosened the knot on his tie. Normally he'd go to his computer at this time of the night and do a couple of hours of email, but tonight surely his staff would understand he needed a break. He put the flowers into a pitcher he filled with water, shut off the light Bijou had left on for him above the stove and walked surefooted through his dark house.
His bedroom walls glowed with flowing patterns. When he stepped through the door he saw candles on all the tables of the room, scenting the room gently with amber and grapefruit. His exhaustion immediately lifted with a lungful of the energizing, sensual scent. He set the pitcher of roses on the bureau.
Bijou was draped across the bed, a filmy white nightgown covering her lean, beautiful body. In front of her was a deck of oversized cards.
"For me?" she said, glancing up.
"Of course. You liked them last time."
She smiled. "Thank you."
"What are you up to?"
"The night I met you started with a tarot reading. I'm not a master of the cards, but I've learned a little since that night and I want to know about you now."
"Okay," Magnus said, amused enough to ignore his throbbing cock for now. He supposed there could be some truth in such divinations, considering all the wonders they knew to be real. "What do I do?"
"Put your hand on the deck. I'm going to do a simple spread just about you. Think about yourself, but don't ask any specific questions."
It was hard to think about himself without thinking about her, the way her breasts were pressed against the gown, the way he could see a shadow of her pubic hair under the gown.
"Magnus," she said with a warning glint in her eye.
"Right." He sat on the bed and put a hand on the cards, closing his eyes. Jupiter, now he could smell her body. Her pussy was wet, not fully opened yet, but becoming aroused, her beautiful lips engorging. Still, he could smell her determination and knew he wouldn't gain access to her sweet body without going through this ritual first. He closed his eyes, tried to think about himself, who he was, his hopes and dreams, now so intertwined with thoughts about her and their child.
"Cut the deck."
After a moment, he took his hand off the cards, pulling the first few with them. Bijou restacked the cards and taking the first three, put them face up in front of her.
She frowned.
"What?"
"I'm not very good at this yet." She rubbed her nose. "Okay. The one on my left is who you are." She tapped the card. "The King of Swords. That makes sense. I figured you were Wands or Swords."
"Why?"
"The day we met, my problems showed up as Swords. And this card means a reliable man with authority."
He smiled. "Glad to hear you think so."
She rolled her eyes. "The next card is what you need." She tapped the card in the middle. "Temperance. That popped up for me too."
"What did it mean for you?"
"It was an alternative solution. That's nice. What you need can also be what I need. A life of balance."
"We'll have a healthier family if we can balance our needs, to be sure." He trailed his finger playfully up her leg but at her glare he removed it.
She nodded, her attention moving to the last card. "This one indicates how you'll get your life of balance."
Magnus saw a naked man and woman on the card, with a god or angel figure above. Looked good to him!
"The Lovers," his mate said, satisfied. "Love conquers all." She scooped up the cards and put them to the side of the bed, blowing out the candle there as she did so.
In the dim light on that side of the bed, he saw her hold out her arms. "Come here, mate."
He pulled off his tie and dropped it on the floor, then moved toward her on all fours, like a wolf on the prowl for his mate. She pulled him to her, turning him so that the back of his head rested on her shoulder as she unbuttoned his shirt. He raised his arms so she could undo the cufflinks and pull the sleeves from his arms.
As the fabric came away from his right arm he felt a click. Something soft and furry yet hard settled around his wrist. He jerked it away and his arm clanked when it hit the limit of the silver chain attached to the wrist cuff she'd caught him in.
She wriggled around him, grinning, making sure most of his body received her gliding touch. "You didn't think I'd miss an opportunity to get my own back, did you?"
"You are full of fire, parum lupus," he said, moving forward for a kiss.
She darted away, pulling the sleeve from his other arm. He let her encase his right wrist with the matching cuff.
"At least take off my pants if you are going to assume control," he told her.
She ignored him and crawled off the bed, standing on the side where candles still glowed. "I realized today that I trust you. I want you to know you can trust me too."
"So you aren't going to leave me here?" he asked, not that he was very concerned. She wanted him.
"No." She put her hand to the strap holding her gown to her shoulders. "I'm going to love you."
He forgot to breathe as she let her nightgown fall down her beautiful, creamy, enlarged breasts, her skin so pale he could see the delicate tracery of blue veins. Her nipples were large, jutting and rosy. His cock pushed painfully against his zipper as he imagined putting his tongue to them. She pushed her nightgown down broad hips, the curve of her belly slightly more rounded that it had been when they met. His long, lean Bijou was curvier now, more womanly.
She moved to the base of the bed, leaning over him, her hair brushing his abdomen as she undid the clasp holding his slacks together.
"Be careful with the zipper," he said.
She smiled and took the pull in her mouth, dragging it down slowly, tooth by clicking tooth. When he sprang free, she pushed his pants down his legs, dropping them to the floor, then took him between her hot, moist lips, her tongue cradling his length.
He muttered thank yous to the gods as she sucked him. Her long fingers took command of his balls and the base of his cock as she tortured him with long licks. He begged her to stop so he could pleasure her too, but instead she took him deep in her throat. He thrust against her, lost in the pleasure of her hot wet mouth. His hands jerked against the chains. He wanted so badly to pull her head to him but he was bound.
Somehow, that made it even better, his whole body captured in passion. He bowed away from the bed, every cell in him screaming for release. She sucked harder, faster, matching the rhythm he needed perfectly. Just when he was ready, so ready, she reached one finger underneath him and circled his small rear hole. When she dipped in he came with a shout, jerking hard against his bounds, shooting his seed against the back of her throat. She swallowed greedily, eager to take everything he had to offer.
He raised his head, wanting to watch as she licked him completely clean, a wide smile on her mouth.
"You'll be here every night from now on?" he whispered.
"Think you can handle me?"
"Love conquers all," he said. "I love you, you know. I never could have found such a perfect match. Whatever it is that brings true mates together, I thank the gods for it."
She crept up on him, her strong legs bracketing his torso and leaned in for a long, sensual kiss. "I love you too. Maybe I don't want the answers to every mystery."
After fumbling on the side of the table where the candle was extinguished, she held up a small gold key and undid the cuffs holding him to the bed.
"Hold me, Magnus," she said simply.
He ran his hands down her hair and settled them on her back. Her soft skin felt wonderful against him as he locked his fingers around her warm flesh. She found his cock with her pussy and pushed down, encasing him in tight, luscious heat.
"Bijou's bonds," he said, holding her tightly.
"We're bound by love alone," she said, smiling, her lips raised for a kiss.
About the Author
Anh Leod is a goddess-in-disguise who hopes readers will enjoy her romantic, erotic stories as much as she enjoys creating them. Her favorite things are love and chocolate. She writes about love because, after all, it's awfully hard to write about chocolate all the time.
She also writes as Heather Hiestand for Cerridwen Press.
Anh welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
Tell Us What You Think
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Also by Anh Leod
Aphrodite's Necklace
Lucky Number Seven
Also see the author's stories at Cerridwen Press, written under the pen name Heather Hiestand:
Cards Never Lie
One Juror Down
Discover for yourself why readers can't get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora's Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
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