Fated for the Alphas: The Complete Collection (Nine Book Paranormal Romance Box Set) (53 page)

“These?” Lilah gestured to her clothes. “Dads think they’re weird, Kane more than Ronan, but sometimes I never know when or where I’ll end up.”

“What are you doing here? Or
now
, I guess?” Lia asked. This was bizarre. Her daughter was almost taller than her. And why did that seem so strange when she was talking to a person who hadn’t even been born yet?

“I’m bringing you guys more arrows. You don’t have nearly enough. And I’m going to sharpen Lark’s knife. She was telling me tales last night, about how she couldn’t shift and was left with only a blunt knife to defend herself. All she could think about was how she was surely going to die when her blade sliced right through her enemy. And later, no one confessed to sharpening it. So who has to sharpen it, do you suppose?”

Lia blinked. “You’re helping us?”

“Someone has to. Be careful tomorrow. Stay away from Shade.”

“What?”

“Stay away from Shade. No matter what.” Lilah’s voice was stern.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

She sighed. “You say that now… Just remember what I said, okay?”

“Okay.” Lia looked down the hall, toward where her Alphas were. She was so weary. All she wanted was to wrap herself in furs and the warmth of her mates. She still had to tell them they needed to fight tomorrow.

“Wait,” she called down the stairs, “how does the battle go?”

But Lilah was already gone.

Lia shuffled down the hall. She didn’t have the energy to see if Lilah was still there, or if she’d gone elsewhere. Elsewhen? Lia groaned. She was too tired for this.

Rubbing her eyes, she stepped through the stone doorway. Technically this was Ronan’s room, but lately all three of them had been sleeping here. That was just the way Lia liked it. She always had someone to use as a pillow, and she was never even slightly cold.

“He tried to stay awake.” Kane pointed to Ronan, who seemed to have collapsed on the furs. “He swore he would wait for you. He did mean to.”

“I know. He does need his rest, though.” Lia climbed onto the bed, snuggling between them.

Kane gave her a kiss on the forehead. “How did your talk with the mage go? Is he really your father?”

She pulled the furs over Ronan. “He is. Our talk was… educational.”

“That bad, huh.”

“He did abandon us.”

Kane wrapped an arm around her. “I understand. Part of me wants to see my momma again, if she’s even still alive, but another part of me will never forgive her for what she did.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“He will try to help us, though,” Lia said at last. “Magnus, I mean. He said the battle will be tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Kane swore. “We’re nowhere near ready.”

“We’ll have to be. At least we’ll have a mage.”

He looked at her, his golden eyes piercing. “Can we trust him?”

“I don’t think we have a choice.”

Kane nodded. “We should sleep, then. I’ll let Ronan know everything when he wakes.”

He kissed her again, lips insistent against hers, like this time might be their last. Then he broke away.

“Sleep now,” he whispered.

Lia lay against him, her back pressing against the strong muscles of his chest. Ronan rolled over, wrapping an arm around her. She was warm here. She was safe.

Lia drifted to sleep, the sound of the fawn’s cries in her ears.

Chapter Three

“Are you ready?” Ronan asked.

Lia nodded.

“Here.” He passed her the bowl of red clay.

It was heavy in her hands. This should be easy enough. All she had to do was dab some clay onto him. She looked around the cavernous room. All around, shifters were applying thick red lines of clay to their mates. Everyone wore looks of grim determination.

That was because it was more than clay. It was a warning to enemies. It was a reminder to the warrior of who he was fighting for. It was supposed to lend protection, confidence.

Lia sank her fingers into the clay. It was still cool. Lark had just pulled it from the riverbed that morning.

Across the hall, Fox was covering Dash with clay, drawing symbols that were said to ward off pain and injury. Lia bit her lip. Symbols didn’t tend to afford protection, unless they were backed by magic. It might make her pack feel better, but it would do nothing more.

“Everything okay?” Ronan asked.

“Just give me a second.”

She watched Sequoia, who was painting Flint and Duke. Though Sequoia laughed at Flint’s awful jokes, her strokes to apply the clay were half-hearted, like she didn’t believe it would help. At least her eye was no longer purple and swollen. She’d need to be at her best today. They all would.

Lia gazed at the clay. Even with the most perfectly executed symbols, it wouldn’t do much at all. That wasn’t something she wanted to put on her Alphas. Her fingers twitched in the clay. One of them sparked. She stared. That was it.

Closing her eyes, she called on her magic.
Give the wearers of this clay strength
, she thought as hard as she could.
Give them speed. Give them cunning, and clear minds. Put fear in the hearts of their enemies. Make blades and arrows and spells glance away from them. Don’t let their blood be spilled. Most of all, give them victory.

She doubted her magic could grant that last request, especially with the waning moon, but there was no harm in trying. Her head pounded. She could feel her magic rushing through her fingers, filling the clay. All she wanted was for Kane and Ronan to survive. She hoped it would be strong enough.

“Lia?” Ronan’s fearful voice cut through her concentration.

“What?” She opened her eyes.

He pointed at the bowl of clay, which was smoking.

“Oh. I was just… warming the clay for you.” There was no point in giving him false hope if her magic hadn’t worked. “I’m ready to put it on you now.”

Ronan held out an arm, giving the bowl a sideways glance. Carefully, Lia dabbed some on his hand.

“Ow!” He snatched his hand away. “It’s hot!”

“I’m so sorry!” Lia grabbed a pitcher of water that was sitting on the table. “Did it burn you?”

“No, I’m fine.” He waved off her ministrations. “It just surprised me, is all. I thought it’d be cold.”

Kane walked up behind her, putting a hand under the stone bowl and taking the bulk of its weight. “Let me help you with that.” Scooping out a handful of clay, he turned to Ronan. Kane seemed unfazed by the heat. “Are you going to shift, or what? Don’t tell me you plan on fighting on two legs.”

Ronan shifted into his magnificent white wolf. Lia smiled, running her fingers through his soft fur. He licked her cheek.

“Now with Ronan,” Kane said, “you start with a stripe on one side of his muzzle. Go from his nose, over his eye, down his back, and to the end of his tail.” He demonstrated, leaving a brilliant line of red down Ronan’s left side.

“Here.” He offered her the bowl. “You do the other side.”

Ronan closed his eye as Lia smeared him with clay. She almost wished it weren’t so red. The last time Ronan’s fur had been this red, it had been with blood.
Don’t let him bleed again,
she begged the clay.
Keep him safe.

Kane examined her handiwork. “Good,” he said. “Now we need to pick out some symbols. They go from his front legs and chest down to his ass.” He smirked. “I’ll let you handle those.”

Lia watched as he covered one side of Ronan with symbols and spirals. Kane walked her through their meanings. Here he drew the story of Ronan bringing down his first prize buck, then the day the two of them took the title of Alpha.

Then Kane helped Lia draw her own symbols. She chose to illustrate their first meeting, their binding ceremony, and Della’s sacrifice. The last one was a reminder to the dark god that he could try to take Ronan, but he couldn’t keep him.

Ronan shifted. “All right. Your turn, Kane.”

Kane was already in wolf form. He gave Lia a single wag of his tail.

Taking the bowl, Ronan showed her how to paint Kane. He got two thick lines as well, down his face, chest, and front legs. Kane’s symbols went on his back and on his back legs. Ronan drew symbols that told of how Kane was born a wolf, and depicted the night they’d found Lia. With Ronan’s help, Lia painted Kane’s sycamore tree, and symbols of the three of them sitting under its branches together. It was a promise. They would survive this.

Hold your magic,
she pleaded to the red earth beneath her fingers.
Protect him.

“We’re out of clay,” Lia murmured.

“I’ll get some more,” Ronan said.

She frowned at Kane. “Aren’t we finished?”

“We still have to paint you.”

Ronan came back with another bowl. “You don’t have to shift,” he said. “Just stand still.”

He ran a red hand down her face, starting just below her eye. Lia tried not to flinch. The clay was so cold.

“What design, do you think?” Kane asked.

Ronan delicately painted her throat. The feel of chilled clay made her skin prickle. His hand skimmed over her chest and breast, down over her stomach and leg to her foot. “The one Della gave her.”

His face somber, Kane painted her other side. Lia’s throat caught. She remembered this pattern. This was how Della had painted her at their binding ceremony.

Her Alphas exchanged a look, then drew three rings around her forearms.

“You’re our mate,” Ronan said, “always. No matter what happens today.”

“She still needs more clay,” Kane said. “On her back, maybe.” Taking the bowl, he started slathering her with symbols.

Lia craned her neck, trying to see. “What are you painting?”

“This is your escape from Shade. Here he is, and he is ‘angry,’ ‘fat,’ and ‘stupid.’”

She laughed. “He’s not fat. Or stupid, unfortunately.”

“Yeah, but I’m drawing the symbols, so I get to decide how he’s immortalized. Okay, now here’s Ronan. He’s ‘dead,’ and I’m ‘sad’ and ‘handsome.’ Yeah, that’s pretty accurate, I’d say. But here’s Lia, with her ‘gorgeous cunning magic.’ And our ‘lovely, wise mother.’ Ronan’s back now, and he’s ‘battle-hungry’ and ‘good-looking.’”

“Not handsome?” Ronan said.

“No, that symbol is reserved for me.”

“Give me that bowl.” Ronan wrestled the clay from him. “Lia, I’m going to paint the time you blasted your coven with a bubble of light.”

She smiled as he worked. She liked how they had both chosen scenes where she’d defeated their enemies.

“Finished,” Ronan said. “You’re ready for battle.”

She took his hand. There was no magic in her clay, but the symbols drawn by her Alphas made her feel protected all the same.

“Who knows,” Kane said, “maybe next time we’ll be marking today’s events in clay.”

“No.” Ronan shook his head. “They’ll go on the dais.”

Lia looked at the stone that jutted from the center of the room. To her surprise, she realized that she now understood some of the symbols carved into its base. Near the bottom, three of them read “Alpha,” “storm,” “home.” It was a story.

“The lives of our Alphas,” Ronan said, “since the beginning. They’ll carve our story there too someday, as long as any of our pack survives to add it.”

“Of course they will,” Kane growled. “And it won’t be a short story, either. Remember what Della said. We’ll prosper.”

A knot formed in Lia’s stomach. But she couldn’t tell them the truth about the prophecy now, not with battle imminent.

“Are we ready, Alphas?” Flint called.

“We’re ready.” Ronan’s voice rumbled through the den, echoing off the stone. “Collect your weapons. You know your positions.”

Shifters rushed to collect bows and blades.

“Shade has troubled us long enough,” Kane said. “Let us end him here.”

Lia saw a flash of crimson. Magnus leaned against the entryway, staff in hand.

“I hope you’ve finished your speeches,” he said. “Your enemies are approaching.”

Kane bristled. “Is that so? Because if they were—”

On the heights, Briar howled a warning.

“Positions!” Ronan called.

“Alphas!” Briar’s voice boomed down the staircase. “You need to come see this!”

The three of them raced to the heights.

Cold air hit Lia in the face as she stepped onto the windswept rock. Darkness fell as storm clouds covered the sun and the moon.

But that was not what made her legs buckle, what would have made her fall to her knees if not for Ronan’s strong arms. To the south, a line of wolves was emerging from the tree line. They stretched across the whole meadow. As they marched forward, another line surged up behind them, then another. Shade didn’t have a pack. He had an army.

“How?” Kane whispered. “It’s too many.”

“Never.” Ronan paced along the heights, fangs sprouting in his mouth. “We’ll fight whatever Shade’s dragged out of the Seven Hells. He brought too many, they’ll be tripping over each other.”

“Or over our bodies,” Kane muttered.

“Briar,” Ronan said sharply. “Go downstairs. Have them block the entryway, I don’t care how. Break the table in half if you have to. Hold it with your bodies. But get it done.”

The sentry saluted, then ran downstairs.

“We aren’t going to fight in the open?” Kane grabbed his brother’s arm. “Ronan, you’re going to let them lay siege to us? We aren’t prepared for that. We don’t have the supplies.”

“I know that,” Ronan snapped, pulling his arm away. “We have no choice.”

“What’s happening?” Lark stepped onto the heights, past Magnus, who Lia hadn’t even noticed was there. “Oh, Hells,” she whispered. “We’re doomed.”

Magnus laughed.

They all turned to him, stunned.

“Do you find this to be funny?” Kane asked icily.

“Oh, yes.” Magnus leaned against his staff.

“What’s so amusing to you?” Lia asked. “The fact that we’re about to be slaughtered?”

“Hardly.” The corner of the mage’s mouth kept turning up, like he was unable to contain his mirth. “It’s just so amateur, and you’re all lapping it up.”

Kane let out a rumbling growl. “What about an army is amateur to you? You’d better start explaining yourself, mage, and fast, because I have half a mind to push you off these heights.”