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“Wow! Nashoba you are a piece of work!” The tremble of Dalcour’s shout toward Jackson sends tremors through his chest as he keeps my face pressed against him. “I can’t believe you’d bring her here!”
“Please, Damina, Jackson had no idea she was coming,” Aunt Delia replies. “Gregory should have taken better care of knowing who Merle had in his company before he asked for their aid!”
“She’s right, Damina. It’s all my fault. Jackson is just as troubled as you are,” Gregory adds.
“Oh, is he?” I snap back, pulling myself from Dalcour’s embrace.
“Come on, Nashoba! Damina deserves better than this!” Dalcour contends, with his hands rested on my shoulders.
“I know what Damina deserves!” Jackson huffs in a grumbling low growl.
“Really? Because this right here—this isn’t it!” Dalcour exclaims.
“Don’t you begin touting your self-righteous indignation with me, Marchand. You claim to care for Damina. Love her. But you don’t. You can’t. How can you even comprehend what love truly is?” Jackson growls as he takes cautious steps toward us.
“I can tell you what it’s not, mutt. It’s not bringing your ex—no, excuse me, the one woman who you cheated on your fiancé with—to parade her in front of the woman you claim to love!” Dalcour yells.
“Perhaps you think it’s more acceptable to allege an intimacy between you and Damina for no other reason than to control her narrative.”
“To the contrary, Nashoba. I have no need to feign any intimacy between Damina and me. You see, what we share is real. What we’ve shared in five days was more real than you ever experienced in five years. So real, in fact, we’ve bypassed all myth and legend! So real that our connection alone revealed an intimacy so powerful we didn’t have to even take our clothes off. But that’s what scares you the most. Isn’t it, Nashoba?”
Jackson snarls as he rushes toward Dalcour, reaching over me to grab his collar. Dalcour roars back at him and the sound from him reverberates from my back through my chest.
Caught between the two, both anger and frustration sweep over me and a strong tidal force blows from me with a glaring white light, forcing both men away from one another. Now standing in the center of the foyer, I turn and observe the worried and watchful glare of everyone and my heart falters.
I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
“Why don’t we all leave Damina and Kyra to talk?” Aunt Delia says in the strong, dominant manner I’ve always known. The scowl now etched on her face tells me she’s grown tired of the back and forth between Jackson and Dalcour. More important, she wants to find her daughter and we all need to move past these petty matters. “Lothians, please exit to the parlor with Brian and Gregory. The rest of you—make yourself useful. I’m sure Braelyn and Mark could use your assistance in some manner.”
“She’s right,” Brae adds. “Shows over folks! You heard the lady. Come on and follow me!”
My heart lightens as I see Brae and Aunt Delia exchange smiles. Perhaps my aunt is warming to Brae after all? Still, I can tell she is not pleased with either Jackson or Dalcour. As the two remain stewing in their shared animosity, Aunt Delia walks to the center where only I stand, and she reaches down to help Kyra from the ground.
“Gentlemen, the time is long overdue for these two women to speak. And they need to do so without your interference or chest-beating, cavemen-like antics. I am sure you can find some way of busying yourselves and allow them some time to talk.” Aunt Delia’s tone is brash and matter of fact. While both men maintain their face-off for a brief moment, Jackson is the first to retract his stance and Dalcour slowly follows suit as each turn to go their separate ways. “Will you be okay, Damina?” My aunt questions.
Nodding with my eyes only, I carefully watch Kyra’s hands as she dusts off her dusty rose trousers and cream blouse. Aunt Delia narrows her eyes, searching my face before she exits to the kitchen after a brief squeeze on my shoulder.
Kyra’s posture varies from the strong, overly confident woman whose eyes once regarded me with contempt at Sonfries. Her eyes alone tell me of her destitute state. This is not the same haughty diva who exchanged daggered-eyed glances with me on the eve of my wedding.
She is different. Broken.
Even still, a part of me refuses to give in to my normal bouts of empathy.
She has not yet earned such an emotion.
As much as I want to rest in my anger, I feel my legs wobble like noodles beneath me. Keeping my sights on her, I walk to the steps and sit on the fourth step from the floor. I want to say something, but I even feel the darn frog stuck in my throat, so I extend my hand to Kyra, gesturing her to talk.
“I owe you an apology, Lady Damina,” Kyra begins. “For so many things, but mainly for my part in breaking up your marriage—for my interference.”
“Interference? It was quite more than that!” I choke out my words.
“Yes, you are right. I know I should not have aligned myself with Keiron. I knew better than that, but I was desperate.”
“Because you were broke? Are you serious, Kyra? Jackson told me because you and your mother swindled your inheritance, you were exiled.”
“Well, yes, it is true we haven’t quite maintained the status quo necessary for an alpha, but truthfully that is not the real reason behind my actions,” Kyra quietly admits.
As she does, my heart melts. Could it be that she actually loves Jackson? Crap!
“The truth is, I am sterile. I cannot have children.”
“What? What does that have to do with anything?” I mutter as I watch diamond-like tears drop past her cheeks.
“All alphas must be capable of procreation. There must be an heir. This rule is absolute. Non-negotiable. Far beyond wealth. Even far beyond any other capabilities. An alpha must be able to propagate the bloodline. Secure the continuation of the entire den. I did what I did because I am infertile.”
Silence sits between us and despite my restraint, my empathy for her breaks through the remaining hardness of my heart. She stares back at me, cautiously observing my responsiveness. I work hard to remain stoic. I refuse to let her know my heart aches for her.
She is still the woman responsible for my reckoning.
“So what does that have to do with Jackson? Why align with Keiron to break us up?” I sharply belt out. Her eyes fall at my words and a stinging ache pains through me. How can I be so callous?
“Well it is the reason I needed a Changeling. While Keiron knew I would get a Changeling to serve as your imposter, he did not know I had bartered a deal with a Changeling to aid in my impregnation. You see, although Changelings are without form, they can still procreate. In order to break their shadowed curse of formlessness, they must pledge their life for a life. Women throughout the ages have consulted Changelings to aid in fertility.”
“Really? I’ve never heard of such,” I quietly reply.
“Oh, I am sure you have but you didn’t know it. Oshun, Eshu, Demeter, Dionysus and even Isis. All Changelings. Until they were released from their shadowed curse, they too lived in voided form, roaming the earth, hopeful to one day make themselves whole again. The Changelings were once powerful beings—that is, until the Order of Altrinion began. But that is a history lesson for another day,” Kyra states in a demure and gentle tone.
Still watching me carefully, she sits with her back to me on the bottom step. Exhaling, her stiff posture relaxes, and she flips her long, wavy brunette waves over her shoulder as she presses her back to the wall and turns toward me.
“Okay, so you used a Changeling to get pregnant. Are you saying you were trying to get pregnant with Jackson’s child?” Although anger teases my emotions, I don’t have the energy to give in to its temptation.
Kyra stares at me, obviously surprised by my monotoned response. “Well, yes. Having an alpha’s child would most assuredly keep my status as alpha intact. But I would have settled for Keiron—I mean, he is still a Prime. Heck, Merle even! I just needed a child.” The desperation in Kyra’s voice as she speaks makes my inaction palatable.
“And let me guess, Jackson doesn’t know this.”
“No one. Except for my mother. And Merle.”
“Who is Merle?”
“He is the newly appointed alpha. When he took over, I told him. But no one else. Being infertile is a fate worse than death to an alpha. Many Skull herd were birthed out of impotent and infertile wolves.” Kyra’s voice fades as she speaks, and a haunting and chilling memory of my encounter with the Skull wolves plagues my mind.
Despite my gnawing antipathy for Kyra, her story tugs my heart’s strings. I don’t want to care about her. But I do. To be ousted for infertility is heartbreaking—even if it is my foe.
“What happened to the Changeling?” I quickly ask, pushing past the empathetic overture taunting its release as I jump from the steps and brush by Kyra.
Once more, her eyes fall, making her bare before me. “The Changeling—um—well, it got sent to a Jinn’s jar. And there it must remain until it fulfills the pledge.”
“A Jinn jar? You don’t mean a genie’s lamp, do you?” This is getting ridiculous! I heave a laugh as I saunter in circles in the foyer.
This new world is becoming unbelievable! Vampires, wolves, Bulwarks, Altrinions, and now Jinn? What’s next? Dragons?
Don’t even think it, Damina!
“I know it all sounds ridiculous. I assure you; it’s sounds even worse as a bedtime story as a kid,” Kyra replies.
“So now what? You just open the Jinn jar and find some unsuspecting fool to get you pregnant. I mean, I hope you know that’s not happening with Jackson—now or ever!” I snap in a low snarl that rumbles through my chest. No matter where I stand between Jackson and Dalcour, I will never budge on this.
“Of course, I know, Lady Damina. Besides, I missed my opportunity. You only get one chance with a Changeling. If you back out, that’s it. Thankfully, I am a wolf so I could take the expulsion. But humans or others aren’t always so fortunate.” Again, Kyra’s voice drifts as she speaks, and I can sense both disappointment and regret leak from her pores. “Look, I know that despite how dire my situation, what I did to you and Jackson is unforgiveable. For that, I am sorry. My actions were selfish and there is truly no excuse. But if it is any consolation, please know the Lothian Den had no part in my actions. I also know you have no reason to trust me. Please believe me when I say, there are no better trackers more capable of locating your cousin that the Lothian. If you would still permit their search, I promise you will not be disappointed. And if you prefer, I will stay away from the search, but please allow them an opportunity to assist you in finding Dacari.” Kyra’s eyes are earnest as she stares up into my own.
For the first time, I see in her something I did not expect to find. An ally.
“You are right, I have no reason to trust you. But despite everything, I still trust Jackson. I know if nothing else, he would never involve anyone unless he thought it necessary. So whatever there is between you and me, Kyra, you are necessary.” Large droplets of tears drip from Kyra’s eyes at my words. Sincerity graces her smile as she bows her head graciously toward me. Far be it from me to ever allow another woman to feel less than in my presence. No matter what she’s done. Even more, Dalcour was right, I am better than the manner in which I reacted. Much better.
“Thank you, my lady,” Kyra cries in gratitude.
“Very well, darling! I am happy to see you have made amends,” Aunt Delia says as she rounds the corner from beyond the kitchen.
“You were listening?” I ask, shaking my head, hardly surprised by my aunt’s actions.
“Of course, my dear! You know me well!” Aunt Delia replies, wholly unashamed. Both Kyra and I share a small chuckle at my aunt’s unapologetic stance.
“I am glad to hear it too!” I hear Jackson call from behind us.
Turning to meet his face almost melts my heart in two. While we are far from reuniting, I am more comforted now in knowing Jackson never meant to hurt me than at my awakening. In fact, for the first time, I believe Jackson was as much a victim of Keiron and Kyra’s treachery as me.
A small smile forms beneath his goatee and his eyes dance with a glint of hopefulness as he continues toward me. Although I wonder if Jackson now knows the motivations behind Kyra’s deceit, I know we’ve spent too long on the matter. We must get back to Dacari!
“Well, now we can focus our attentions on finding your cousin!” Jackson says with a broad smile as he wraps his arms around my shoulders, planting a light kiss at my forehead. A surprisingly sincere smile grazes Kyra’s face as Jackson holds me, and I feel the remaining weightiness of my disdain toward her fall aside.
The two men from Kyra’s company come out of the parlor with Mark and Brian, gathering themselves with Kyra.
“Baby,” Jackson says softly, turning my chin up to meet his eyes. “Please know I am sorry. I didn’t know she would be here. You know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
“I know, Jack,” I answer, nuzzling my chin in his palm. Deeply inhaling his sweet and spicy aroma, a flickering image of my dreamscape flashes through my mind and I am comforted by my recollections of the White Wolf. My Jackson.
“Ah-hem,” Mark begins, forcing a faux cough. “We’ve gathered enough of Dacari’s things to trace her scent. We can probably get going, Lord Nashoba.”
“Good work, Mark!” Jackson calls over his shoulder, gently pulling himself from our locked-in gaze. Smiling at me once more, he steps aside but takes my hand in his. “Gregory, is everything else secure?”
“Yes, sir,” Gregory responds. “We now have everything we need for Mark’s valuation. The minute we procure Ms. Peyroux, we can proceed with assuring Mark’s alpha status.”
“What?” Mark gulps in surprise. “But it’s so soon! How did you—”
“You are more than deserving!” Gregory shouts.
“I couldn’t agree more!” Dalcour says from the top of the staircase landing as he and Brae stare over the railing. Brae’s smile beams from ear to ear as she looks at Mark, and pride fills Dalcour’s chest as he speaks.
“And it is the only area where Lord Marchand and I are in agreement.” Jackson’s clipped tone slice through the merriment of the moment, but Dalcour ignores his sentiment as he trots down the staircase, wearing his fondness for Mark in full stride.
Once more, Mark seems torn between his loyalties for Dalcour and Jackson, but his excitement for the news of his valuation pushes through. Everyone congratulates Mark and even Dilano and Alana make their way into the foyer and share in the cheerfulness of the news.
“Oh I can think of still another area of agreement. The Lady Damina Nicaud!” Dalcour says in a bright and jovial tone, despite Jackson’s daggered-eyed glare pinned on Dalcour.
“Me?” I question, surprised.
“Yes, you Beautiful! This is the first time in ages where a full blood Altrinion will give a blessing of valuation for a rising alpha—even more so, Dunes. You, my lady, are once again making history!” Dalcour reveals.
Dalcour’s words send flurries of shock through me! Slowly, I recall Brae telling me that it was important for me to choose Mark for the mansion project from the beginning. “Has this been your plan all along?” I ask as the puzzle pieces form a clearer picture in my mind.
“I wish I could take all the credit, Beautiful, but that all goes to Jerrica. Although she is no longer cursed, she could have sat in your stead, but having a pure blood such as yourself on the valuation panel helps to make Mark’s status assured.”
Heaving small gasps of air, I am once again shocked that I find myself at the epicenter of Jerrica’s grand plan. The frog invades my throat, leaving me standing speechless.
“Thank you, Lord Nashoba!” Mark yelps, hardly containing his excitement. His outburst is just what I need to break from the searing stand-off and tug-of-war holding me between both Dalcour and Jackson. “And thank you, Lord Marchand! You, Brian, and Ms. Jeffers believed in me when no one else did. I only wish my father—” Mark’s eyes glass as he chokes on his words at the memory of his father.
I can relate.
Brae squeezes herself beneath Mark’s arm as Brian and Dilano swarm his side and Mark smiles, mouthing a quiet thank you to me as I nod in reply. Refusing to linger in his own celebration, Mark catches my eye and regains his about-face posture.
“But the time for rejoicing is not now.” Mark begins, wearing his leadership like a badge of honor. “Our first priority is to find Dacari. And Lady D and Ms. Peyroux, that is exactly what we’re going to do!” Mark exclaims, and the foyer erupts in echoes of agreement. “However, Lady Damina, I do agree with Brian, it is probably best if you stay behind for now. We need to survey the area first.”
While a part of me wants to protest, deep down I know Mark is right. I still need more training.
“Our resident alpha-elect is correct,” Jackson adds. “Damina, do you mind?” Jackson asks with a tender gaze. I know he expects me to object.
Just as I part my lips, Dalcour walks near my side and throws his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close to his side. “It’s quite all right, Lord Nashoba. You all go. Survey the area. Damina still has more training to complete. And tonight she’ll get a chance to try out what she’s learned so far.”
“I will?” I ask, surprised.
Jackson’s lips curl at the sight of Dalcour’s palm squeezing my shoulder, but he keeps his eyes fixed on me. “What are you talking about, Marchand?”
“Scourge sighting,” Brae interjects, now leaning into my side. She takes a huge gulp through her straw and turns to me and smiles while using her knuckles to wipe away small drops of blood from her mouth.
“Nothing to worry about, Beautiful. Cedric, Lux, and Abigail will join the three of us. The Guard got word of a sighting near a school just outside of the city limits,” Dalcour says.
“Yes, my Lord, and we have every reason to believe the Vitreous is behind it!” Lux says, announcing his entry from the doors leading to the Civility Center. He smiles at both Dalcour and me, but casts a cautious glance to the remaining wolves in the foyer. I see his brother Cedric and a lovely woman; I assume to be Abigail.
“There’s so many of them,” she whispers over Cedric’s shoulders as her long, wavy, brunette curls hang against his biceps. Her features are strong and while she has a no-nonsense presence, I detect a softness behind her eyes that is likely reserved for Cedric. Both she and Cedric gaze on the large group of wolves in the foyer, and I realize there may be a natural animosity between the two.
Interesting.
“Well, then, I suppose we all have our marching orders,” Jackson announces, breaking through the forming awkwardness of the Lothian wolves and the arrival of Lux and his family. Turning to me, Jackson shoots a quick darted glance to Dalcour, but gives me a small smile before planting a kiss on my forehead. “Be careful out there, baby.”
“I will, Jack,” I answer softly. “You do the same. Please.”
“Yes, do be careful, Nashoba. All things aside, my brother is more cunning than you can imagine. Whatever bedtime stories you’ve heard of him barely scratch the surface of his depravity,” Dalcour says in a dark and low tone.
Jackson stares at Dalcour, affirming with his eyes only. Mark and the company of wolves gather at the door waiting for Jackson, but I can tell he remains hesitant to leave me.
“I will be fine, Jackson. Go—find my cousin,” I mutter, pointing to the wolves who await him on the mansion porch. Keeping his eyes on me, Jackson grants me his most dashing smile before joining the others.
Even with Dalcour beside me, it’s still hard to resist the pull of Jackson Nash.
Dalcour nudges my shoulder and smiles down at me with a wide-eyed, boyish grin. Then it hits me.
I am officially screwed.