Charming the Alphas (Hex My Heart, #5) (12 page)

“Are you okay, baby girl?”
Zane’s words came across like the dragons did inside her head. She gathered their hands in hers and gave them a squeeze.
“Ask me in a few hours.”

Her uncle turned to Obsidian. “Now that we’re all gathered here, tell us what you found.”

Her ears perked up.

“Before finding ye in the state ye were, we visited ye’re sister, Harmony. The seer helped us gather some Intel and find out how our blood got in the hands of some humans recently.”

She wondered about that but lacked the time to investigate. The pieces were falling into place one by one. Obsidian and Razer pegged her with look that said BUSTED in big fat letters.

“As requested she tried to find the
who
behind the thievery. Her information was limited to a human girl and a Warlock with,” he threw up air quotes, “‘vile intents with dark magick.’ As far as the Order is concerned, this is an act of war.”

“A bit drastic, no?” Swords, armor, magickal warfare.

War was a real son-of-a-bitch.

“Nae after tonight.” Her eyes narrowed on her uncle, trying to read his body language, but the finality in his tone brooked no hesitation.

“Look, what happened tonight, or last night...” Her hours were all screwed up. “... was my fault. I stole something from them and they wanted it back.”

“Have ye ever wondered why they took ye’re magick, my girl?

Only a thousand times before noon, especially after what Obsidian told her.

“Ye threw a huge arse boulder in their way, Marabelle. Now they may nae stick to the shadows for their dirty work,” Obsidian continued. Hearing the crass word fall from an ancient dragon’s mouth gave her pause. Roll with the times, she guessed.

“You have an idea of their next move?” Lucian spoke up as Zane wrapped a warm, protective arm around her midriff.

Her uncle gave a disgusted grunt. “The night before ye’re father died, he contacted me with a warning of betrayal within our ranks.” Her uncle clasped his hands and gave a brief pause, the pain of his loss evident in the deeply etched creases that marred his weathered face. “He’d witnessed something within the palace of the Council that had him worried enough to break the laws of the government he’d sworn to protect in order to keep the peace fer his loved ones. We were to meet the next mornin’.”

“Instead, he was found dead of an apparent suicide,” Lucian added, the puzzle pieces clicking together for him as well. “Within the months of his funeral you were stripped of your powers under the pretense of breaking the law. I believe they were looking for a window and found it.” Lucian’s tone took on a lethal edge.

“What could I have possibly done to the Council that would make them fear me? I’m a healer like he was.”

Zane’s fingers wound tight into the loose material of her sweater. “It should have been us protecting you then and now.” He turned her to face him. “Please forgive us.” Jaw tense and his muscles strained, shame shadowed the depth of his gaze as it flowed between their new connection as mates.

“No.” She bit out the word with a healthy dose of force. “No, Zane. Neither you nor Lucian should feel sorry or remorse. I got myself into this. Besides, you both have a job and your pack depends on you. What kind of person would that make me if I took you away from women and children that count on you? So, no, don’t go there.”

“What did we ever do to earn such loyalty?” Lucian’s words dropped an octave and she felt the tug of humility in his words.

“Love me. That’s all I needed or want,” she whispered to them. No doubt all the preternatural beings in the room could overhear anyway. Too bad for them.

Razer stepped forward and leaned their way. “If I c’n break up the tender Hallmark moment, I’d like to get back to the inevitable apocalypse we’re plannin’ here.”

A chuckle caught in her throat and her heart doubled for her newfound friends. Even if they were a little doom and gloom.

All heads turned to Razer. “Back at ye’re home in the woods there was a stench surrounding the area, one of magick and of shifter. How is it that the werewolf had magick?”

About that. Lucian had said it wasn’t them running around her property. She stiffened with alarm, all humor dropped. “What do you mean a stench?”

“What we didn’t get around to talking about back in the room before you slipped away.” Lucian tipped his head up and nodded at Razer. “The scent he’s talking about belongs to a killer we thought dead for a year now. Either the High Council is dabbling in necromancy or the feral shifter we buried really wasn’t dead. You tell me which is more plausible.”

“I think a little of both,” Razer added as he produced a file to his elder. “There’s black magick at work here and I’m convinced our blood is being used to do the conjurin’. Somehow several vials are missing from our laboratories. This report is proof. If we c’n track down the person with the sticky fingers—”

“You’ll be closer to the answers we need,” Marabelle finished.

“Precisely, lassie.” She arched a brow and watched as her uncle flipped the jacket of the file over as Razer continued. “Those are possible suspects we’ve narrowed down on our recon missions.”

A man that looked as if he preferred the woods to four walls and a good shower stared back at them. Filthy clothes and shaggy matted hair couldn’t hide the dead look in his yellow eyes or the fact that she recognized the crooked nose and high cheekbones.

Lucian peered over her shoulder and grabbed the picture from her hands with a curse. “It just doesn’t seem fucking possible. Excuse the French, but we buried that shifter, warlock... whatever the hell he is.”

“We believe he is the one that was at ye’re home, Marabelle.”

She straightened. “You’re saying a murdering shifter is at the High Council’s beck and call? If we can identify the warlock’s identifying scent then we’ll know who is behind the murders.”

“Aye, that’s what we’re thinking, too, with only one problem.” Obsidian confirmed and pushed up from where he held down the large oak desk and crossed his arms over a broad chest.

Of course. How could she miss the obvious? “When a spell is performed by a gathering of witches or warlocks, the magick becomes untraceable.” She finished for him.

He nodded with a grim expression. “And he’s also the one we believe killed yer father.”

Her eyes widened. “What?” Her world zeroed in on his next words. Her men straightened and shifted slightly in front of her. Knowingly or not, they went into protective alpha mode at the mention of the killer hitting close to home. “How do you know?”

“When the DraegonStones found my brother, they discovered something else. A scent of feral wolf.”

“Something one doesn’t easily forget,” Lucian confirmed.

“The same scent we found outside the cabin hidden beneath a layer of magick. And we scented inside with you.”

Rolling with the gut punches, she sucked it up and forced her back ramrod straight. Chills flushed her skin and her heart dropped to the floor like a cement block. “Inside?” she repeated, trying to swallow the new dose of information.

Lucian eased her with a hand on hers. “We can confirm as much, babe. At the time we had a choice to make, you or hunt him down. For us the answer was simple.”

Zane narrowed his eyes on Razer who seemed to have the most answers. “Why didn’t he kill her?” Good question.

One of Obsidian’s brows climbed high. “We believe he thought she was already dead.”

“And how does the Council link to this? Why would they want to kill anyone?” That was the biggest question she struggled to connect. If they couldn’t prove the Council was behind this, then none of it mattered. Her father’s death would go unpunished and that sat heavier on her than the injustice delivered to her by the douche bags.

“A working theory. Two years ago was their trial run with the mass serial killings. Now they’re ready to play ball and get their real agenda on the game table. They slipped up tonight when they sent him after ye at the palace. On our trip back to the Hollow we retraced yer steps and they led us to an old servant’s passage. Guess whose scent we picked up?”

That’s explained the wet dog she smelled. Her uncle turned the folder around and pointed to an image of the same man in the exact spot she’d parked her getaway ride. He stood like a soldier waiting for orders. Completely mindless. “It’s him.” Her father’s killer wanted her dead last night and he would’ve succeeded too if not... Ice ran deep into her veins and the world drifted off to muffled voices as the men continued. If she hadn’t shot back her potion she’d be dead. Irony at its best. She could have died and it didn’t bother her.

The fact he got away made her see red. Marabelle’s heart hammered in anger. Eyes blurred and her fingers bunched into fists. Now she knew the direction she needed to go. Last night took a turn not even her psychic sister would have predicted, but going back wasn’t an option. She’d need help though.

“What do they want with me? I’ve never done anything to put me on their radar unless you count a love spell. I’d like to think even they like to get laid every once in a while.”

Everyone in the room grew still as she spoke over the men except her uncle. Boisterous laughing filled the space and cut the tension choking the room in half. “Maybe if they did, the past would be left where it belonged and everyone else could live in peace, my dear.” He spoke aloud so everyone could hear.

Okay, so maybe that sounded better in her head, and how many times did you get a chance at making an elder blush
? Hades on fire, why couldn’t everyone just get along?

She raised her shoulders in a shrug. “Now that I have my powers and I can speak to dragons... what does that spell for me?”

“Their biggest fear, my niece, is what lies inside ye. What I suspect was dormant before ye drank our blood is now activating.”

She angled her head. “As in ongoing? What kind of powers?”

Obsidian whipped around with a look of mixed anguish and relief. And reluctance. “When I hit ye with my magick, something inside ye crumbled. A new magick flared to life. It called to the magick I fed into ye. If ye’re anything like yer father, yer healing will double in strength, ye’ll be able to speak to us in shifter form, which ye already know, and with yer mates. Ye’re of the oldest bloodline, Marabelle. Draeonian by blood and witch by birth. Right now, every path is open. There’s no telling what may happen as the days progress. I suggest ye stay here and let our healer care for ye more.”

She understood his worry. “I can’t. I have to get back. My sisters are sitting ducks in the middle of a war they have no idea even exists.”

Lucian and Zane stood. “Our pack also needs us. Now that we’ve mated, more is at stake than a missing vial of blood.”

“Aye. But if that blood is nae found, the consequences willnae end with just yer sisters and yer pack.” Her uncle spoke above everyone who started to speak at once. “We’re talking about reverting to a time where blood and honor meant nothing and killing was a way of life. Too many died to free us from the tyranny of the High Council.”

“And I won’t let that happen again, Uncle. Not if I can help it. If there’s a way I can help, I’m in.”

“I guess that means we are too.”

Marabelle turned to her men. “Are you okay with this? I know I’m asking a lot. More than I have a right to, but I need to help them. And if they can give me answers to who my father was, please understand I can’t turn away.”

“Didn’t we say last night that if you were going to plot any more adventures to count us in?”

He had a point. “Promises are promises. This adventure could get us killed or land us on the wrong side of a powerful warlock’s magick. You up for that?”

Obsidian broke in. “Have ye got a plan to go with yer bravado, witch?”

“I’m working on it. Think we’ll stand a chance, dragon boy?”

“As a team, aye. Maybe. Alone not even a sliver of a chance.”

“We get that.” Lucian countered. “With just you and your brother, we’ll need more men.”

“Aye. We have more brothers, but it’ll take time to pull them in from their positions.”

“But first,” Marabelle held up a hand, “before we make a move, take me to see Harmony. Please.”

In all of this if there was one thing she’d learned, never look the devil in the face without having a backup plan—her sisters. In order to join the ranks of the dragons, she needed to disappear to keep her coven safe from repercussions and so did her mates.

“You know what this means, right?”

Both men stroked a single finger along her cheek and guided her to look into their eyes. “It means you’ll never face another problem alone. What happens to you happens to us.”

Goddesses willing, Lucian’s words were not prophetic.

The Beginning...

M
idnight swallowed him, masking his presence from the unknowing humans below. Two centuries of lies, betrayal and death clung to their very essence. Now he and his brothers got to relive the past.

His stomach churned. No thank you.

A man could take only so much killing before his soul either turned black or died.

Obsidian gave a final push of his wings, oblivious to the winter cold, and he glided along the up-currents as they carried him to the mouth of his lair. Buried deep in the mountains of Canada, no human had ever tainted his territory. Perched on the ledge and with his snout raised, he let out all the frustration eating at his soul with a bellowing roar.

Bone cracked, elongated teeth receded and gave beneath the weight of his dragon until scales morphed to human skin.

No human until now, that was. Faint whimpers hit his sensitive ears and he pulled back from where he kneeled on the stony edge to reveal his treasure. Wrapped in pearl white silk lay the woman he feared more than a thousand blades.

“Please... don’t hurt me. I... I don’t know anything.” Salty tears streamed down smooth skin. He forced ice into his heart and steeled his emotions against the petite human and her false tears.

“Nae. That I dunnae believe, wee one.” Hands braced beneath her legs, Obsidian curled her close to his chest and carried her deeper into his lair. Her cool skin against his. Gods, it burned his senses and pulled at buried desires that had no business rearing their ugly heads.