Red and Her Wolf

Marie Hall

Red and Her Wolf

Cover Art by Claudia McKinney of www.phatpuppyart.com Copyright June 2012

Photographer, Teresa Yeh

Model, Danny

Edited by C. C., Lea Griffith, Jennifer Blackstream, Marie Hall

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Marie Hall, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in the context of reviews.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the hard work of all people involved with the creation of this ebook.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Marie Hall. Unauthorized or restricted use in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patent Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2012 by Marie Hall, Honolulu, Hawaii, United States of America

Acknowledgements:

First and foremost to my fans for sending me awesome notes, asking when Wolf would finish, how much you love Kingdom. To you guys, you rock. Second, I could never have done this without the help of many, many wonderful people. Sonya, C.C., Joyce, and Jennifer... you all are always awesome and a real encouragement to me. To some very special fans: Gaele Hince, Livia, and Katie at Curse of the Bibliophile. You girls went above and beyond, I’m grateful to know you.

Dedication

To my fans, this one’s for you guys...

Red and Her Wolf

‘Bad boys need love too...’

Long ago there lived a beautiful child. Her name was Violet. Fair of skin, with blonde hair and large blue eyes. Born of wild magic, she was a woman with a child’s heart. Innocent and lovely, but not at all what she seemed—you see Violet went by another name: The Heartsong.

She was the child of fairy magic, the physical manifestation of all fae kinds unbridled power. Cosseted and pampered, she grew up in isolation, never knowing who she really was, or why there were those who’d seek to harm her.

Ewan of the Blackfoot Clan is a wolf with a problem. He’s been sent to kill the Heartsong, but the moment he lays eyes on the blonde beauty he knows he’ll defy the evil fae he works for to claim Violet as his own.

This is the tale of Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf, as it really happened...

Table Of Contents

A word from the Author:

Sneak Peek: Jinni’s Wish

Other Books written by Marie Hall:

Prologue:

Long before the Hatter met his Alice, or Gerard his Belle... a Wolf claimed his mate...

Weak light spilled through the twisted forest. The sky, a wash of orange and pink, threatened to give way to night. Violet shivered, hugging her cape tight around her body. Strange sounds whispered on the breeze. The call of night owls and the squeak of tiny field mice played a gentle melody in the background.

But there was more—something slithering, creeping like the cold hand of death slinking slowly behind her. The wind whipped through her hair as she tried to brush it back. Her heart pounded a chaotic rhythm in her skull as she swallowed the bile working its way up her throat.

Grandmother hadn’t been feeling well. She gripped the handle of her basket, fingers clenched until her nails gouged her palm. Violet never strayed from the safety of her home, never farther than the river. Grandmother had taught her years ago that beasties of the worst sort lurked beyond.

She glanced up at the massive trees that towered above her. Skeletal branches twisted gnarly fingers heavenward. It was easy to imagine the forty foot behemoths might at any moment open sappy maws to suck her up.

Shivering harder, she picked up her pace, nearly running. Lungs heaving now with the effort to climb the steep hill leading back to the safety of her river. Night was closing in quickly. Already the colorful splash was giving way to the inky blue of a silver studded sky.

A raven cawed and ice skated down Violet’s spine. She swallowed hard, first noticing the bird back at the apple orchard. Yellow apples—almost golden the way they shone in the sunlight—a prize worth escaping the temporary safety of her grandmother’s home for. The gift should make her ailing Gran smile again.

Bushes rustled behind her.

Violet didn’t look back. She wouldn’t. To look back might make the fear manifest. Ignoring the knot of dread in her gut, she yanked at a dangling root and hoisted herself over the hill. The river was finally in sight.

A black blur brushed her cheek. Fear slithered down her throat. The raven circled back around, and with a loud caw, dove for her again.

Violet marched.

***

“Och.” Danika—fairy godmother semi-extraordinaire—sailed through the breeze with her fairy friend like a graceful swan cutting a swath through a placid lake. “I swear that Gerard will be the death of me. He has a thing for the maids of the sea now.” She shuddered, eyeing Miriam the Delighted.

Miriam’s large white teeth flashed at Danika as she grinned. “The man’s useless, Danika. Truly, ye should give him up as a lost cause.”

“No,” Danika shook her head, zipping high and low, dancing through the air with the joy of a fairy with ample time on her hands. “I’ll find him his match, you mind my words.”

Gathering her fairy dust, Miriam threw it at a pitiful looking bloom of a rose, its red drooping petals gleamed a deep ruby red when the golden dust settled upon it. The flower gave a happy chortle and waved on its thin stem back at them.

Miriam snorted. “Are ye sure of that now? Wouldn’t ye rather seek my boon, I could tell ye quite simply who she is.”

Danika scoffed. “No, Miriam, I work alone. I’ve told you time and again I’ll not be needing the use of your boon...” Danika narrowed her eyes, a flash of red sailed past her vision. She stopped flying and gripped Miriam’s elbow. “Did you see that?” Danika whispered, heart pounding forcefully against her chest.

Miriam’s swirling lavender eyes scanned the valley below. Just at that moment, the last of the days light winked out like the pitiful flicker of candle glow. Kingdom was bathed in a sea of black and blue, making it hard to discern much of anything at the moment other than shadow and sound.

“See what?” Miriam’s brown and white speckled moth’s wings flitted slowly behind her back.

Danika frowned; sure she’d seen a flash of red. She licked her lips; rumor had it the Heartsong had been hidden here centuries ago. Unlimited power in the form of a beautiful girl, a conduit for any fairy, and power so tempting she’d had to be hidden. In the care of the only fairy known to be truly pure of heart: Jana the Green.

Or at least that’s what the tales said, but all within Kingdom knew never to believe such nonsense. Fairy tales rarely held a grain of truth to them, and if they did, it was stretched so thin as to be transparent.

Danika laughed. “I thought I saw-”

A surge of power rolled forcefully through Danika, she screamed as every limb locked in place, and she hurtled straight toward the ground. A loud buzz the only thing she heard as the ground rushed up to meet her face. Danika had only a moment to throw her arms in front of her, bracing for impact, when a strong pair of hands clamped onto her vest and halted her fall only inches from the ground.

The whites of Miriam’s eyes were large, and her breathing stilted and heavy. “Danika, what happened?”

Danika trembled, slow to regain feeling in her limbs. “My muscles. The power, t’was overwhelming...” the words died on her tongue as the flash of red brushed by mere yards to her right.

Miriam gasped, dropping Danika in her shock. Danika landed with a thud, air left her body on impact, and she glared at Miriam who was now visibly shaking.

“We must needs leave, Dani,” Miriam whimpered, and Danika might have asked why, had she not just seen for herself the cause of Miriam’s distress.

A large red wolf, stalked the maiden wearing the red hood. He padded on silent feet, moving like shadow behind her. The girl hummed, but this was not a relaxed song—more a nervous melody that vibrated through the woods haunting and eerie all at the same time.

Miriam landed beside Danika and yanked her to her feet. They were barely a foot tall, and well hidden behind a thick gooseberry shrub, but Miriam gulped and shivered as she pointed to the large beast. “The mark, Dani,” she hissed, “the beast wears her mark.”

The wolf’s ears twitched, and though he did not look their way, Danika knew he’d heard Mir.

Danika clamped her hand over Miriam’s mouth, urging her friend to silence. Then another wolf loped out from behind the woods and this one was bigger. A full hands length taller, the creature more resembled a hound of hell, than a wolf. Its black shaggy coat covered the muscular form like a bear’s pelt, lush and thick, gleaming like onyx in a flame. Its hackles were raised, and it too bore the mark.

A chain hung around its thick neck, with a small golden medallion embossed with a dragon in battle hung in plain sight. The mark was a sign of loyalty to Malvena the Black, the worst of all fairy kind—she’d turned her back on truth and light centuries ago, and though her reasons had at first been understandable (even honorable), they’d morphed and twisted into something dark and macabre.

Seeing the mark, knowing to whom they belonged, Danika knew the flash of red she’d seen had been very real. Malvena had one goal, find the Heartsong. All fairies scorned and mocked the black hearted fae, knowing her quest impossible. The Heartsong did not exist; she was a myth, a legend, nothing more.

The black wolf growled long and low, and birds shot from out tree branches into the air with a loud squawking cry.

Danika’s body still crackled with surging pockets of power, making her teeth clamp down hard.

“Come, Dani, we must leave,” Miriam tugged at Danika’s elbow. Danika hadn’t realized she’d begun walking toward the girl until Miriam stopped her.

Danika hugged her wand to her chest, frantic with an overwhelming need to go. Not to run away, but rather, to go to the girl.

“Dani,” Miriam groaned again, the whites of her eyes large in her face. Danika turned, ready to growl at Miriam to hush her mouth, but then Miriam started jerking. Her entire body shook, and a low moan vibrated from her chest.

The black wolf’s ears twitched, and Danika flicked her wand, casting a protective net around them to prevent any more sounds from reaching sensitive ears.

“Miriam,” she cried, grabbing her friend by the shoulders as she slumped to her knees on the ground.

Miriam’s head snapped up and Danika’s eyes widened because the eyes staring back at her were a solid white and the voice that came out sounded as deep as a man’s. “The Heartsong must be saved.”

Goose flesh skittered down Danika’s back, Miriam was in full ‘sight’ mode. It could take hours to snap her from these trances and Danika couldn’t let that happen. Miriam was vulnerable and exposed when using her third eye.

But if they had any hope of saving the Heartsong, Danika needed to wake her friend up.

“Mir?” Danika shook her gently. “Wake up, dear.”

“Save the Heartsong,” Miriam intoned, heavy inflections undulating against the translucent bubble like waves crashing upon a rocky shore.

“Oh bloody damn, bloody, bloody, bloody damn...” Danika muttered, slapping a still mumbling Miriam on first one cheek, then the other. The skin turned crimson and still Danika slapped her. “Wake up, you gnatty old fool. You want us to save the chit; wake the bloody hell up!”

Miriam’s head lolled around, but the whites of her eyes remained. The wolves were gone, the girl... who knew where, this couldn’t be happening. Heart thundering loud, Danika grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at Miriam’s face.

The fairy coughed, but still did not cease her rambles.

Quivering, on the fine edge of desperation, Danika did the only thing she could think of. “Incendio!” she cried, pointing her wand at Miriam’s feet.

Thick waves of amber encased Mir’s bare feet, and a shriek that made Danika’s ears ring, sprang from the brunette’s mouth.

“My feet!” Miriam cried, blinking big lavender eyes up at Danika accusingly as she stomped the flames off, “What have ye done?”

Danika flung her arms around her friend’s neck. “I’ll tell you later, we must find the Heartsong, Mir, she’s in grave danger.”

Mentioning the girl almost seemed to make Miriam forget her momentary anger. “Yes,” she said, “we must.”

There was a resolute tone to her voice, no longer fear, but knowledge of something deep and powerful.

“Follow me,” Miriam cried, and streaked in a blur through the air.

Danika followed, large blades of grass slapped their faces. Her pulse pounded a furious tempo in her ears. They had to make it. They must make it in time. The Heartsong must not be killed. Though Danika had only ever thought of her as myth, all knew to kill the Heartsong was to release the dark magic that beat within her soul. It must never happen.

Up ahead a thatched roof cottage came into view. A silver plume of smoke curled like a beacon through the air, then a scream that rang with pure and primal fear, blasted all around them.

“Inside. Hurry!” Miriam cried, her wings beat faster as she streaked, a golden bolt of lightning cutting a straight path through the navy blue sky.

Sweat dripped down Danika’s back with the effort to keep up, yet still she urged her wings to pump harder. Faster.

They sailed through the half opened door and the scene within was chaos. On the ground Jana the Green lay dead, her wand dangled limp from lifeless hands. The Green had assumed the form of an elderly woman; her silver white hair was long and tangled, partially covering one eye. Her pudgy face forever frozen in a soundless scream—a big black wolf lay on the floor, savaging her, ripping off her hand, spitting it out, and then ripping off the other and doing the same. Fleshy parts of the Green were everywhere.

The Green—one of the Powerful Ten.

Shock rooted Danika to the spot, scrambling her brain, her ability to reason or think. The slaughter of the Green—so shocking, so unbelievable, Danika could hardly breathe. Of all the fae in all the world of Kingdom, none were more powerful than the Ten. That the wolves could destroy her with such ease... Danika’s gut clenched—insides revolting at the earthy, metallic stench of so much blood.

Backed into a corner of the wall, the Heartsong screamed and screamed, quivering within the folds of her red cape. A basket lay by her feet, yellow apples rolling like heads on the packed dirt floor. The red wolf Danika had spotted earlier, stood in front of the Heartsong, growling with its hackles raised. Ready, it seemed, to pounce and tear the girl limb from limb.

The big black wolf lifted its shaggy head, glowing yellow eyes swiveled toward the girl and he gave a long, low whimper.

The red wolf growled and snapped its fanged jaws.

The black wolf’s nostrils flared, as if scenting. His head bobbed up and down, his tail thumped excitedly on the ground. He whimpered again.

The other wolf growled louder, taking a menacing step towards the girl. His gums pulled back, revealing wickedly long incisors.

The black wolf shot to his feet. A rumble tore from his chest, spilled up his throat, and dropped from his tongue. But Danika was dazed to note the black did not eye the girl, rather he eyed the red wolf.

The girl whimpered, refusing to look at anything.

“Oh no,” Miriam said.

“What?” Danika asked.

The red wolf vibrated, and then pounced so quickly Danika couldn’t follow his blur. He sailed through the air, mouth open and teeth inches from the huddled girl’s neck. Danika and Miriam finally found their senses, and pulled their wands out of their sleeves, hot pink power crackled upon its tip, ready to blast the red wolf into oblivion, when the black jumped on red’s back and sunk his teeth into the other wolf’s neck. The sound of a spine cracking blasted through the eerie hush and then the red wolf dropped like sack cloth to the packed dirt floor.

The black wolf breathed heavy, mad glowing eyes stared intently at the girl who still refused to look at him. Danika raised her wand.

“No!” Miriam cried, slapping the wand from Danika’s hands. The pink bolt of power arced into the air, shooting off the roof, and burning a black hole through the thatch. The scent of burnt grass was everywhere.

“What the bloody hell?” Danika yelled in bewilderment, turning wide frantic eyes toward the beast. Miriam had slapped her only source of power from her hands.

Black’s head jerked in their direction, his long pink tongue lolled out of his mouth as his ribcage flexed in and out. The red wolf wasn’t dead; a small whimper escaped his fanged jaws.

“WHAT HAS HAPPENED HERE?” The voice could belong to no other. It cracked through the room with power, all the fine hairs on the nape of Danika’s neck stood on edge, then a blue blast of light poured through the room in a wave.

Everything paused. The wolves stopped breathing, the girl stopped whimpering, even the wind stopped breezing through the dank confines. Time itself held its breath.

Galeta the Blue—Head Mistress of Fairy, Inc. and Ruler of all Fae—appeared ghost-like within the blue radiance. “I felt the disturbance of my song, where is she? Where is the Girl!” she demanded, sharp fangs standing out in shockingly bold relief compared to the doll like innocence of her young face.

Her ghostly head turned, and a sharp gasp escaped, then glacial blue eyes locked first on Danika, then on Miriam. A sneer curled her tipped nose. “You!”

Miriam winced.

“I should have known you’d be here, you coward. You swine. What have you done?”

Danika flew before her friend. Galeta had never much cared for Miriam. Not since the day of the Summoning; the day all fairies were received by the oracle and told what their ultimate destiny would be. All knew Miriam’s kith descended from greatness. Every one of Cherry Blossom stock went on to rule the Kingdom as head Mistress. Every last one, that was, until the Oracle told Miriam she was destined to rule and Galeta was to be muse of the arts. Though Miriam had rejected her course, and chosen instead to be untethered and a free fairy, Galeta had never forgotten, or forgiven.

“She’s done no wrong,” Danika quickly asserted. “We were feeding the flowers when we came upon the scene. What is this, Galeta? What horrors have transpired this night?” Danika wrung her hands, still not sure what she’d witnessed. What had happened.

Galeta held her chin high, but the light of fury slowly dimmed. “The Heartsong’s been discovered.” She stared at the unmoving bundle draped in red on the floor. “What did you see?”

Danika barely had a moment to digest the news that the Heartsong did in fact exist. Not like she hadn’t already put the pieces together, but to hear Galeta admit it as truth was... shocking. “Like I said, we were too late, Mistress. We entered to find Jana already dead and the black,” she pointed to the large wolf, frozen, and staring at them with hollow gold eyes, “attacking the red.”

A green glow began to emanate from within the savaged remains of Jana’s broken body. Galeta pursed her lips, eyebrows raised. “We haven’t much time,” she said cryptically. “I need to access the black wolf’s mind.”

The moment she said it, the wolf’s limbs unlocked, he wuffed, shook his shaggy head and then growled.

“To me, wolf,” Galeta snapped her fingers. Though Galeta was not with them in form, her power was such that the wolf had no choice but to spring to her ghostly apparition, head bowed and breathing heavily under the influence of forced magic.

“Esmeralda,” Galeta cried over her shoulder, a moment later a second figure emerged from within the blue fog of light.

Esmeralda—fairy of justice and truth—was a lovely counterpoint to Galeta’s sharp cruelty. Fair of skin, with forest green eyes, she was the ideal representation of what most mortals believed the fae to be. “Yes, sister dear,” she said in a flute like voice.

“Enter the hut, discover the truth,” Galeta ordered.

“As you wish.” Esmeralda bowed her head.

The sound of chimes rang loudly in the air as Esmeralda emerged with a loud pop (like an object escaping a bubble) from within the swirling mercurial radiance. Her full pink lips tipped up into a grim smile. The air turned crisp, smelling of morning dew and clinging ivy.

“Well met, Godmother,” Esmeralda nodded her chestnut colored head respectfully toward Danika. Then her eyes widened as she finally took notice of the scene before her. “What has happened here?” Her tiny voice trembled, her gaze unflinching and focused as she stared at Jana—or, at least what was left of her. Bits of the Green were scattered throughout, but her trunk and legs were now glowing a deep hued moss. The magic, a fairy’s very soul, would soon erupt from the body, seeking a new and suitable host.

Danika trembled at the thought of so much power. To be one of the Ten, could she do it? Would she want to? She gripped her wand tighter, palms sweaty as her heart beat hard. Who would the magic take?

Galeta rolled her eyes, her mouth set into a tight line. “That is why I’ve called you here, Ese. The wolf knows, his memories must be revealed.”

A change overcame the lovely fairy then. Esmeralda’s head tilted as a helix of black bled through the color and whites of her eyes. No less beautiful, but alien and frightening as she turned that penetrating gaze on the black wolf who was now eerily silent.

“Wolf,” she said in that same flute like voice, “show me the truth.”

Whining, but unable to resist the command, the wolf looked at Esmeralda.

Wind ripped and roared through the tiny thatched cottage, stirring dirt and brambles, making Danika’s hair whip into her eyes painfully. Wincing, she narrowed her eyes, trying desperately to keep them open so she could see the vision unfold.

A scene stirred like a ripple in a pond. Slowly at first, largely blurred at the edges, but tightening at its center, forming a picture.

Galeta narrowed her eyes when a healthy Jana came into focus. Her long white hair flowed well past her waist, nearly to her knees. And though she appeared a fragile woman with liver spots and wrinkles covering her from head to toe, her eyes gleamed like the glint of steel in flame. A nasty smile curved her lips as she spoke, not in terror, but calmly to the black wolf.

Jana pointed a gnarled finger—the sharp nail long and curling downward—at the door.

Danika’s eyes widened. Why was Jana not fighting the wolf? Why did she not attempt to defend herself?

The scene shifted again when the Heartsong entered the doorway. Her eyes moved between the wolf and Jana. At first with fright, but then her facial features dropped and something akin to horror flickered in the depths of her eyes.

The red wolf leapt into the picture, creeping in behind her. The wolves had set a trap and Jana was smiling.

“Bloody, bloody hell!” Galeta spat as Danika’s heart sank to her knees.

How could this have happened?

Then Galeta spun that arctic stare on both her and Miriam. “None must know of this night. Should Kingdom ever discover what has transpired here, our world would cease to exist as we know it. Swear it!” The power of her words rolled like shifting lands, stealing the very breath from Danika’s lungs.

She gulped, but nodded. Miriam nodded too, but closed her eyes. She had her arms wrapped around herself, and Danika knew her friend was not well.

Galeta’s nostrils flared. Esmeralda blinked and the black of her eyes were no more, they’d returned to the vibrant green of a tree’s canopy.

“Sister,” Esmeralda said, pointing to Jana, “she glows.”

The green light encased Jana’s remains like a tomb, lifting what was left of her high into the air. The room grew heavy with the sharp nip of ozone. Bolts of lightning streaked from within the corpse itself.

Galeta pursed her lips. “The magic will find who it will.” Then she turned her hawk like gaze back on the wolf. “Destroy them all. Malvena must never know how close she came this night.”

Miriam’s head shot up then. “What? All? Even the Heartsong?”

The Headmistress snarled. “How dare you speak to me? I’ve given the order. Kill them all!”

Danika’s head seemed completely independent of her body at that moment, turning this way, that way, following each harshly spoken word with a lump in her throat.

“NO!” Esmeralda cried, one eyebrow rose as she studied Galeta with the look of a fairy who would do bodily harm if ignored. “You may not kill any.”

“You cannot stop me—”

Esmeralda crackled as she flitted towards Galeta’s projection. She planted small hands on her hips and spread her legs, a shower of dust dropped from her wings as she spoke. “I am truth, Galeta. Do not forget it.”

Miriam flew to Ese’s side and nodded forcefully. “I’ve had a vision, Galeta. ‘Tis true. Tonight’s actions will determine the fate of our brethren for an eternity. The Heartsong must not be killed. Nor can the black wolf.”

Danika felt suddenly useless. She’d never seen such a forceful side to her friend and did not know what to do. Though she was infinitely grateful there’d be no killing tonight. She turned toward the blond girl, still suspended in time—huddled under her red hood—poor thing, such a tragedy to befall one so young. Her life would never be the same.

A muscle in Galeta’s jaw ticked. “Malvena will surely know otherwise. The Heartsong is no longer hidden. If we do not kill the wolves and the girl, word will spread. The girl’s identity has now been exposed. We must kill her in order to cast a new body for the Heartsong.”

The sparks shooting off Jana’s body were now pinging off the walls of the room.

The black wolf lifted his nose, sniffed the air, and then with a low growl fell to his belly. A blinding white light encased his body, flaring so bright that Danika had to shield her eyes as tears stung the corners.

When the light faded, a man, long and lean and thickly muscled with shaggy black hair, jumped to his feet. Galeta’s gaze roamed the length of him, slowly, methodically, taking in all the twisted cords and muscles of his body.

T’was common knowledge Galeta loved men. And this one was a sight beyond most.

“What do you want, black wolf?” she sneered finally.

His chiseled jaw set into a tight frown. “Ye speak of killing me. And yet ye saw my truth, ye know I meant the girl no harm. Can ye not guess why?”

Miriam flitted to his shoulder, lightly tapping it. “Ye are Violet’s mate,” she said softly.

Danika gasped. Could the night get any stranger? “But...but, he works for Malvena.”

He looked at her, with eyes hollow and flat, more animal than human. “Yes, for the sake of my starving clan, I did. She offered to feed us, I had no choice. But I could never harm my mate.”

Danika looked at the girl.

But she was so young.

Or perhaps not. A youthful face in Kingdom was no indication of age. Danika should know.

Miriam nodded. “He does not mean he’s mated her yet, did ye not notice on the vision what happened when he saw her, Danika?”

Danika scratched her jaw, remembering vaguely the flattening of fur around his neck when he’d first gazed at Violet. “She will not want you,” Dani told him, “surely you know that.”

“It matters not,” he growled, “she is mine.”

Galeta lifted her hands. “She belongs to me, black.”

“The name is Ewan of the clan Black Foot,” his rich throaty burr made Danika’s heart quiver. Aside from the small crook to the bridge of the man’s nose, he was the most magnificent creature she’d ever beheld.

“It matters not at all to me,” Galeta shook her head, blue ringlets bobbed attractively around her head. “What does matter is that you are now a problem. You cannot return to Malvena, and it seems we cannot kill you. So we are at an impasse. Though,” her lips curled, exposing glinting baby fangs, “I hear it’s quite hard to kill one of you. Perhaps the Jabberwocky would like a bit of sport later.”

“Give him to Danika!” Miriam cried.

Danika’s eyes widened. “Miriam,” she squeaked. What in the bloody hell was the matter with her friend?

Miriam nodded, never glancing Danika’s way. “She’s always going on about the reformation of the bad boys. The big bad wolf is as bad as they come, no? Give him to her.”

“I cannot be given to anyone,” Ewan thundered, nude body twitching with barely suppressed rage.

“Mir,” Dani squeaked again. “Are you mad? Shut up, now. I couldn’t possibly hope to hide him from Malvena’s spies.”

“Have you ever switched forms in front of the Black fairy, Ewan?” Miriam asked, still ignoring Danika’s protestations.

Galeta and Esmeralda peered on in thoughtful silence. Danika jumped when a bolt of Jana’s power rushed past her bare legs, singing the hair off, and making her yelp from the immediate flare of pain.

In all the commotion of secrets exposed she’d forgotten the power bubbling like brew behind her. The cottage was in grave danger of imploding, and yet—she looked around—no one else seemed to notice.

“We should leave. Quickly,” Danika whispered.

“Nay,” Ewan said with a swift shake of his head, drowning out Danika’s words, “I’m much more dangerous in wolf form.”

Danika’s pulse fluttered.

“Galeta,” Miriam turned back to the ghostly image of their Mistress, “it is perfect. Danika can keep him hidden, if he keeps his nose clean.”

Galeta nodded. “And the red wolf, what of him?”

“I’ll supply him with new memories.” Esmeralda stepped in, laying a silencing hand on Mir’s shoulder. “I’ll make it so that he believes he killed not only Jana, but the black as well.”

Galeta narrowed her eyes. “And the Heartsong? She must not be discovered again.”

“Give her to me.”

An echoing laugh filled with both shock and disgust fell from Galeta’s pearl pink lips. “To you? Miriam. The Shunned.”

Danika inhaled sharply at Miriam’s new name. No longer was she Miriam the Delighted. The air shivered with ribbons of static as Kingdom responded to Galeta’s authority. Miriam’s lavender eyes grew huge in her face, and shone with unshed tears. But she nodded bravely. “Aye. To me. I’ll take her someplace safe. Someplace Malvena will never find her. I’ll teach her all she needs to know, make her strong enough to return and set it right.”

Flying to her friend’s side, Danika gripped Mir’s arm, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Miriam patted her hand and nodded.

“Yes.” Esmeralda nodded. “Yes, just so.”

“Nay!” Ewan roared.

But this was clearly a day when no one meant to listen to another.

“Then it is settled,” Galeta nodded, “the girl must never again be found. Which means you can never return to fairy. You’re an outcast. A ghost. Nothing.”

The last word settled into Danika’s heart like a dirk. The head mistress’ image disappeared from within the mercurial portal.

Esmeralda turned. “You do understand what you’ve done, Miriam?”

Heart clenching, Danika looked at her friend. “Take it back, Mir. Don’t do this. You can’t. You mustn’t. I cannot lose you forever.”

Miriam nodded. “Aye, I do,” she said, ignoring Danika’s pleas.

Then the room erupted into chaos. The ground rumbled, Jana exploded, and the power that’d begun seeping from within now shot like a streak toward Danika.

“Finis!” Miriam held up her hand, the undulating sphere of green stopped mere inches from Dani’s body. “Ye are not for her,” she whispered to the ball.

Sweat poured free down Danika’s neck, her entire frame shook. She’d been chosen to be a Ten. She was powerful.

Then she frowned. Why had Miriam sent it away?

The ball gathered into a tighter knot and then blasted itself into Esmeralda who shrieked, the sound like a banshee’s wail as flames licked at her flesh, consuming her in a net of sparkling green radiance.

“She’s dying!” Danika cried, rushing to retrieve her wand, ready to extinguish the flames. But Mir stilled her.

Within moments it was over. Esmeralda slumped on the ground, panting and breathing heavy. Clumps of ivy slithered from her pores, covering her body in a lush and living drapery. It took a second for her to stand. Her hair curled in becoming waves down to her waist, ivy threading throughout. It moved as a snake, sliding slowly down her neck, sheathing her body down to her legs. Her eyes were no longer green, they were black as night.

She nodded toward Miriam. A silent exchange passed between them.

Esmeralda opened her broad monarch stained wings and flitted first to the red wolf, passing her wand lightly along the length of his body. Pops and snaps sounded as his bones shifted, reformed, and became whole again. She then turned toward Violet and made to touch her forehead.

“No, Ese,” Miriam shook her head. “She is mine. I will strip her of the memories myself.”

Ese turned with a sad smile. “As you wish, Miriam.”

A scent of lavender and sage traveled in the new Green’s wake as she flew past them. Then she turned, and looking directly at Miriam, whispered, “I will not forget.” With those cryptic words, she left.

“Forget. Forget what? What has happened?” Danika could barely understand anything of the night. Where was her timid friend? Who was this new fairy, commanding such powerful creatures around? Even Galeta had eventually given in to her.

Miriam closed her eyes. “I’m leaving, Danika. I must take the Heartsong far from here.”

“No!” Ewan roared again, and rushed to the still frozen side of the huddled mass draped in red. “Leave her in peace. Give her to me, to heal, to love. I will protect her.”

“Ye will get yourself killed,” Miriam snarled. “Ye will do as I say. Ye will go with Danika, ye will stay in human form for fifty years. Fifty years. No less. After that time it will be safe to resume wolf form, Malvena will no longer care if ye’re discovered to be amongst the living.”

“Mir,” Danika pleaded, grabbing hold of her friend’s arm. “Please, what has happened to you? Was it that vision you had in the forest?”

It felt like her entire life had just been turned on its head. This was her friend, from the moment of their birth underneath a moonlit rose garden, they’d been inseparable. Why would Miriam leave? Forever, no less. This couldn’t be happening. Surely they could find a place to hide them within Kingdom, a place Galeta would never think to look. “Tell me, Mir. Please.”

Miriam shook her head. “I ken what ye’re thinking, sister. Galeta has a track on me. There is no place to hide in Kingdom. I wish I could tell ye all, but I canna. Not now. I will, I swear it. But not yet. She must be safe. Time is quickly fleeing. Take him and go, Dani. I’ll find ye again.”

A distant rustling sound alerted them to the presence of something.

Even in human form, Ewan growled. He had Violet in his arms—she was still frozen as death—keeping her close to his heart.

“Go, blast ye!” Miriam cried, and then cast a net of magic around Danika and Ewan, throwing them through dimensions just as the pounding of feet poured through the thatched cottage.

Ewan’s howl was a melancholy tune as he reached fruitlessly for the mate stripped violently from his arms.

Chapter 1

Present Day, Alaska

“Aunt, M, I’m going,” Violet called over her shoulder.

A spry woman, looking no older than middle age with salt and pepper hair, stuck her head out of the kitchen door. Clearing her throat, she wiped her hands on a blue rag and padded on bare feet into the living room. “Where to, honey? Isn’t it kind of dark?”

Her aunt eyed the window, nothing but black and stars as far as the eye could see—the occasional tree breaking up the monotony of a monochromatic world.

Violet sighed, giving her aunt the same smile she always did. After five hundred mortal years it no longer bothered Vi that her aunt was always such a worry wart. “It’s always dark here, you know that. But not to worry, I think the dancing lights will be out soon. I’ll have plenty of light.” She winked, cleaning a pear on her winter jacket and took a huge bite of the sweet fruit. Juices dripped down her chin before she could wipe it up.

“Aurora Borealis, Vi, and don’t laugh.” Her aunt pursed her lips. “There’s wolves, bears, wolverines—”

Violet rolled her eyes and hand mimed talking. “Oh, c’mon now, I think I can handle myself just fine.” She patted her jacket, reveling in the familiar hardness of the six inch blade. “But,” she crossed her heart, “I promise to be safe.”

Her Aunt meant well, truth was, this had become more of a routine than anything else. Violet loved her space and her aunt knew it. There was something about the outdoors, of walking alone through the trees, and inhaling the sharp sting of the cold winter night (actually day, it literally was dark in the middle of the day this far past the equator), that made her feel alive. Violet hated confinement of any sort.

No longer tasting the fruit, she tucked it into her pocket. It would freeze within minutes outside.

Miriam walked up to Violet, her unusually colored eyes so different than Violet’s own. She traced Violet’s cheek, a sad smile on her face. The glow from the lit fireplace shaded her aunt’s face, making her seem in that moment distant and faraway.

“Be safe, my love.” Her aunt embraced her in a rough hug, squeezing tight, and Violet frowned, patting her back gently.

Lately her aunt had been acting weird. Different. More touchy. Violet’s lips thinned.

With a small shake, her aunt nodded. “Okay, then. Dinner’s at six.”

Violet snorted. “I’ll follow the shadows.”

Miriam chuckled. “It’s all your favorites. Roast beef, new potatoes, and peach cobbler.”

“Wow. I feel so honored.” Violet sniffed, stomach grumbling as the scent of rosemary and thyme in a beefy brine tickled her nose. “Sounds like a last meal.”

Miriam’s smile was frozen in place. “Be on time, Vi.”

Violet frowned. “I will.”

“Good.”

Violet left, closing the door softly behind her. Shutting out the soft blues and pastels of their decorated home, walking deep into the woods, uncaring of the howls echoing long in the distance. She shrugged deeper into her parka, taking deep breaths, letting the cold pierce her lungs like a blade.

Stars twinkled like brilliant jewels above. Somewhere a snow owl hooted, seeking a meal to devour, and Violet laughed. There was magic in the woods. In the quiet serenity of nature, it hummed all around her, through her, even her blood sang with it. Fluttering with something more powerful than herself.

She and aunt Mir had arrived at this remote part of mortal realm a hundred years or so ago. Before that, they’d moved often, always running in the middle of the night. Her aunt had said that it was because she had an adventurer’s heart, but it didn’t take long for Vi to figure out it had more to do with them running away than seeking adventure. Eventually she’d stopped asking why and just resigned herself to a life of solitude. Never allowing anyone too close, never really making friends. Intuitively knowing it was verboten. Now, the lifestyle was one she preferred. She just wasn’t much of a people person.

Violet ran, zipping in and around twisted trees. Snow drifted in lazy curls through the breeze, kissing her nose. She didn’t care, her legs were strong and her body sure.

A gray cloud streaked slowly through the navy sky.

Her aunt always wondered about Violet’s forest romps. But now it was getting worse. Actually, for a year Miriam’s worry had increased. To the point she had even followed Violet on more than one occasion.

Lungs heaving with fire, legs burning, Vi pushed on. She was almost there.

The worry had probably started the moment her aunt noticed her drawings. Sketches really. When they’d first come to Alaska, Violet could barely remember her past. Her aunt had called it brain trauma. From what, she hadn’t known, and Miriam hadn’t explained. But large snatches of time had been lost to her.

A hundred yards ahead she spied the tree. Heart galloping with glee, she put on an extra burst of speed—uncaring that she sank into thick snow; nothing would stop her this night.

It’d frustrated Vi for years that she simply couldn’t remember a childhood, a point where she wasn’t grown. She’d asked Miriam countless times to tell her of her youth, but her aunt was always tight lipped and easily aggravated when the subject came up. So Vi had stopped asking. Her life was good now, and though it was strange to move so often, she didn’t think much of it. She loved her aunt and trusted that her best interest was in Miriam’s heart. But like a fuzzy television screen getting signal back, things had begun to take shape recently.

An image of an old woman. Then more.

Apples.

Rolling like heads on a packed dirt floor.

Lots of them.

Her lip curled. She hated apples.

Innocence.

She’d been that once. Pure joy. The old woman—her grandmother—had once told her she lit up her life with her smile.

Violet’s heart gave a painful squeeze and she blinked back hot tears.

And then the nightmares came and the wolves with them.

A thin pine branch slapped her cheek, but Violet barely felt it. She was panting hard now, huffing from the exertion. She wondered if the tracks were still there.

Her body tingled, a slow hum at first, but the closer she got to the tree the harder it pulsed. The tracks were here, she still felt its magic. She smiled.

In her dreams, the wolf was black. Big. Frightening. And she hated to admit, even to herself, how absurdly drawn to the beast she was. She was fixated. Obsessed. Sketching his image over and over. Most of them were of him kneeling over her, over her grandmother, with a shocking spill of scarlet bathing the ground all around them.

Violet grabbed her chest, panting when she finally reached the tree. She took a moment to calm herself and then looked down.

Large paw prints circled the tree. Her entire body flared to life when she brushed her finger over the impression. It was close.

Biting her lip, she glanced both ways. Was it watching her? She cocked her head, listening for the faint disturbance of movement. All she heard was silence. But not the dead silence of fearful animals, the silence of nature at rest.

He wasn’t here. Yet.

Grabbing hold of the lowest branch, she hoisted herself up. Climbing from one branch to another, delicately, gently... trying to disturb nothing. Knowing her scent would be all over the place and hoping it would attract him.

When she got as high as she could, she sat and waited, scanning the horizon for any movement.

Minutes ticked past, and then an hour. Two. She didn’t move. Barely breathed. He would come. She knew it.

They would always come for her.

Long ago Violet had suspected she was special when she didn’t age, when Aunt Mir didn’t age. Time stood still for the two of them, whatever damage had been done to her brain was now gone. Because, last night, Violet remembered everything. In her sleep she’d heard the growls, the screams of her grandmother being ripped apart, fear closing her throat and making her numb, stupid, and weak. Huddled under her red robe like a child thinking if she closed her eyes they wouldn’t see her, couldn’t hurt her. Violet knew who she was now.

She was the Heartsong, the manifestation of wild fae magic. She wouldn’t age because she wasn’t mortal.

Vi tore a sturdy twig off her branch and toyed with its sharp edge, dragging it along her palm. Time had been good to her. She wasn’t only strong of mind and body, but she’d learned to do something even grandmother had said was impossible.

She rammed the twig through the palm of her hand, entranced as the pool of blood—black because of the night—welled up and began to spill. The pain had been absurdly delicious. Strange to think of pain that way, but for her it was more euphoria, a drug-like high of adrenaline and cutting pleasure.

But that wasn’t what she’d learned.

Violet focused on the twig, watching as it slowly worked its way completely through her hand before dropping to the ground below.

Grandmother had told her she was magic, but she could never do magic. But grandmother was wrong.

Violet raised her hand up to her face. The hole went completely through. Then she kissed herself, right where she’d shoved the twig through. A small sphere of light escaped her lips, like a golden drop of dew, it entered her wound. Flesh and tendon knit themselves back together again.

Something snapped.

Violet jerked her head up and smiled as a massive loping beast emerged from a dense thicket of bushes.

The creature was easily nine feet long, with its massive shoulders and gigantic paws, there was no mistaking the thing for a normal wolf. Its grey coat was muted in the moon glow. It stopped, taking a moment to sniff the air before padding slowly to the tree. She’d noticed it last night, the first wolf roaming these woods that wasn’t quite a wolf. Just like the wolves from her past.

Something gold glinted around its neck.

It was one of them.

Not the black wolf that’d almost killed her. But just like it, close enough she could pretend it was the big, black wolf of her nightmares. Close enough to make her thrill with the sharp desire of ripping into him, of watching his blood spill like he’d watched her grandmother’s.

She was easily twenty feet up. Violet smiled. “Looking for me.”

The wolf growled, looking up, its hackles rose and mouth pulled back revealing impossibly thick canines.

Violet withdrew her knife and jumped. All breath left her on impact, needle sharp stabs of pain clawed through her thighs. She’d not broken any bones, but there would be bruises later. Snow drifted in a flurry around her face, blinding her for a brief moment. The wolf pounced, its claws gouged her legs, her stomach, and she laughed as the power of hate rose up inside her. She wielded it truer than any blade and slashed mindlessly, feeling a rush of strength she’d never known before surge through her muscles. She was strong. Powerful.

There was blood everywhere. On her arms, her hands, her face. It coated her tongue, but she didn’t stop stabbing. Over and over again. The wolf lay still, no longer fighting. Little more than a carcass and still she savaged it.

“Down with the Big Bad Wolf,” Vi hissed, stabbing her knife down the gut of the beast; smiling as the blood painted the white snow crimson red.

Chapter 2

Danika—fairy godmother extraordinaire—waited until the sun set fully, the last warm rays dissolving behind the sharp blue sky. All around her, the woods sang with the song of fairies deep in sleep. Actually, sang was a nice word for what they were doing. They were snoring. Like banshees. All of them. They’d fallen soundly asleep, dropping like flies the moment they’d left her home. Some were leaning against the wall, half slumped forward, and others were spread eagle upon rocks and mushroom caps.

Why?

Danika whistled, patting her pocket that at that moment concealed a glass vial full of eau de dragon. Or in laymen’s terms, dragon fart. Crude yes, but effective. One whiff of a dragon’s fart, especially of the sea variety, (let’s not get started on just how impossible it is to bottle a dragon fart underwater... Danika shivered remembering) and a fairy was as good as drunk. Something about the noxious odor of the fumes mixing with a fairies magical make-up, and boom... a fairy was out for the count.

The serpentine dragon’s smell had been so powerful; it’d brought tears to Danika’s eyes, even though she’d placed an invisible pincher upon her nose prior to the tea. She’d worried a fairy might realize she was breathing through her mouth during all of tea time, but thankfully she’d been spared.

Her heart clenched when she heard a noise.

Bianca—fairy godmother of toads—scratched her tiny bell shaped rear, let out a belch and sighed happily, sinking even deeper within the grassy field. Grabbing her chest, Danika leaned against her door, awaiting the signal.

She hated to poison her friends. And normally she’d never dream of doing anything so awful. But she did what she must. Orange blossoms began to open, their perfume thick in the air, as they yawned loudly. It was a beautiful night and the flowers would soon notice there were no fairies to dust them. No amount of squawking or crying would wake the fairies at this point. They’d inhaled a potent amount and would be out of it for at least another hour, none the wiser, and suffering no long term effects.

Enough time for Danika to make it to her meeting.

Fireflies came in droves then, doing their nightly dance ritual; zipping and spinning through the mushroom homes of the fae. It was precisely eight thirty. Time to go.

Rubbing her arms, Danika eyed the motley assortment of snoring fae one last time, just to ensure they were all well and truly out. Satisfied, she sailed into the air. Wings buzzing like a hummingbird’s as she flew to the edge of the woods. She zipped and sailed, dodging tree limbs, heart speeding with the aftereffects of her fear, but also joy.

She smiled when she finally sailed clear of the woods. Peering through the darkness, she looked for her marker: a series of boulders in a helix formation. Finally spying it, she dove. It took only a moment before landing on gray rock. Glancing both ways, she tapped out a quick sequence of sounds on the stone face.

Tap. Taptaptaptap. Taptap.

Danika nibbled her lip. She was much too exposed. What if the keeper had left? What if he’d been discovered? What if... Squeezing her eyes shut, she blocked out the incessant questions and tapped her foot.

He’d come.

A groove in the rock, little more than a jagged edge, shifted. A narrow pinprick of an opening soon grew into a hole large enough for her to pass through. Cool air emanated deep from within the earth, brushing past her face and making her break out in goose pimples.

“Who goes there?” A voice, hollow and deep, boomed from the cavernous depths.

“Goblin, it is I, Danika of the fae,” she said, proud that her voice did not quiver. Though the same could not be said for her knees.

“Danika,” the goblin growled, “tribute first.”

She clenched her teeth. Of course he wouldn’t care that she was exposed. That any moment Malvena might discover Mir’s whereabouts; which every moment she stood outside, threatened not only herself, but the whole of Kingdom.

None of that mattered though, because the stupid goblin must have tribute.

“Fine,” she muttered, yanking her wand from her sleeve and with a swish and flick produced a mound of rotten, stinking silver streaked fish. “There, you putrid, slimy toad. Now let me pass!”

“Proceed,” the disembodied voice poured through the hole, blasting her face with the fetid stench of decay.

Wrinkling her nose, she covered her mouth, and flitted inside, following a winding staircase down deep into the heart of the rock. There was no light. But there didn’t need to be. Danika knew the path well; she’d met Miriam here many times.

Her pulse rate decreased the deeper she went into the shelter of the earth. Quickly, she ran down the steps, smile growing wider with each step, until finally she spied the mirror.

Well, mirror wasn’t the right word. It was a looking glass of sorts, though in no way resembled a mirror. Long ago she’d learned to hide the amulet by altering its true form. If anyone, let alone the Ten, knew she still communicated with a shunned fairy, Danika’s life as she knew it would be over. She’d be thrown into the fiery dungeon and stripped of her wings.

She shuddered. She was rather partial to her wings. Thank you very much.

Still, the fear of reprisal didn’t stop her from her monthly check-ins with Mir. Glancing both ways—habits died hard—Danika rubbed her hand across the golden genie lamp.

Immediately an image flickered, and then a grim face stared back at her. “Oh, Mir,” Danika gasped, “what has happened to you?”

In the span of a month, Miriam had gone from looking fleshed out and rosy of cheek, to gaunt and withered. Her eyes were sunken in and rimmed in purple. Her hair was lackluster in color, differing shades of gray and brown. And though every fairy could change their true form, all fairies could see through the magic. This was Miriam, as she really looked.

“My friend. My friend,” Danika patted the cold metal screen. “Och...”

Miriam gave her a weak smile. “I’m tired, Dani. Aye, verra tired. No more, no less.”

“What has happened, my dear?”

Mir closed her eyes for a brief moment and rubbed her nose. “Times have gotten worse. Malvena,” she shook her head, “I donna ken how, but she’s found us. I’ve killed three wolves now already, not a fortnight ago.”

Danika tsked. “Does Violet know?”

“Nay,” Miriam shook her head, “I’ve been careful. I don’t think she’s seen one yet. But it’s only a matter of time. Her memories return clearer every day.”

Danika sighed. “Was that wise, Mir? Allowing her memories to return? What if you just kept her hidden longer?”

“How long?!” Miriam sneered, thin nose curling up. “We run, always the same thing. I’m tired, worn down. So is she. We cannot keep this up. But she is strong; I see the magic building in her. Soon she’ll be strong enough to hunt Malvena herself.”

Lips thinning, Danika rocked on her heels. “You know the Ten will not like this. Galeta said you were never to return. It—”

“Galeta knows nothing of the truth. Esmeralda saw it, years ago, she knows. It is time, Dani.” Miriam’s brows drew together sharply.

“Yes, but is this wise, dear one? Did we go about this the wrong way? Should we have told Violet everything? Maybe if we had...”

“Nay, my friend. She must discover the truths on her own, only then will she make the right choice. In the end, the choice is hers. The safety of Kingdom rests in the palms of her wee hands.”

A chill breeze caressed Danika’s cheek. She glanced up at the wet black rock, remembering that awful night of long ago. So many choices they’d made since then; keeping Ewan from her, never letting Violet know the truth, allowing her to believe a lie. Had they made the right choices?

“Aye,” Miriam whispered, “we did.”

Danika smiled, her friend knew her so well. “Are you sure, Mir? Ewan grows madder each day for want of her. I’ve sent him on wild goose chases all over Kingdom, letting him think his Red’s been spotted, when the truth of it is, he’s never even been close. He grows weary himself. And yet if I tell him, I know he’ll force me to take him to her, exposing her location again. Galeta would surely discover his visit, she’d kill him... maybe even me. Not that I care about myself, but I still have my other boys to consider.” She shook her head, curls bobbing forcefully around her face with her frustration.

A faint smile feathered across Miriam’s thin lips. “In order for Violet to challenge Malvena, she must learn the truth, and there’s only one to tell it to her.”

“Ewan will be so angry at me for keeping the truth all these years,” Danika’s words were soft, echoing with the faint trace of bitter laughter.

Mir cocked her head. “Aye, he will. But in the end, he’ll know the truth, why it had to happen that way.”

Danika snorted. “Such trouble we find ourselves in all the time.”

Laughing, the sound almost like what Danika remembered, Miriam nodded. “Aye, and that is the truth of it, my friend.” She glanced over her shoulder quickly. “Violet will return soon, I must go, but first... how fare your boys?”

Smiling, Danika sighed happily. “Hatter is mated. Alice is wonderful, crazy herself, in fact, I visit them often. Quite fond of Alice’s cupcakes.” She patted her stomach. “Gerard and Betty are doing well, vacationing in the Bahamas I believe. Wedding present, you know how it is.”

Miriam nodded. “Good. Good. And Jinni?”

“Worse.” Danika frowned. “He’s fading quickly. There are days when he’s little more than a bodiless voice. I can barely see him.”

“His mate is coming; she’s not quite ready yet, Dani, cheer up. He too shall have his happily ever after.”

A rustle sounded, like a door knob turning, Mir’s eyes widened and she squeaked. “I must go now, I’ll contact you again. Love you, sister dear.”

And then she was gone.

Danika swallowed when the lamp went black. Her friend was gone. Again. And though they talked once a month, it was still hard; and getting harder. Miriam was a sister to Danika, her only true friend, and she was desperate to get her back from mortal land. No matter what it would take.

Even if it took angering the Big Bad Wolf to do it.

“I do what I must,” she whispered, and nodding decisively, went in search of her moody prince.

Chapter 3

Ewan howled, stamping his foot like a bull’s against the very edge of no man’s bluff. He hated visiting Jinni. Why the bloody fool insisted on living here baffled him. Jinni’s home, (and even calling it that was a stretch) was little more than a cave at the rock’s edge.

The exiled genie was more ghost than man now. The curse had long since stripped him of his body; he was now nothing more than an insubstantial mirage.

The Seren Seas whipped forcefully into the cliff, gale winds clawed through his fur pushing him back and threatening to rip the skin off the pads of his feet.

He howled again, long and low, knowing the bloody bastard could hear him. It was time to hunt. Ewan would not leave until Jinni had joined him.

Period.

After the fourth howl, a vaporous shape manifested before him.

Pulsed as a dim blue, before coalescing into a tight shape of arms and legs, torso, and head.

“What?” The Persian lifted a fine dark brow, his nostrils flaring as he glared at Ewan.

Ewan shook his head, pointing his nose in the direction of the Mad Hatter’s woods-where the Jabberwocky roamed. Few were brave enough to enter, but Ewan was close and Jabberwocky or no, he’d not be detained again.

Last night he’d heard an echoing cry, haunting and so achingly familiar his body had broken out in a sweat. For the first time in years, he’d heard her. Jinni he brought along not for the help, the miserable man was terrible company anymore, but rather out of a sense of loyalty.

He was fading fast. Never had Ewan seen one so determined to release his spirit to the Great Wolf in the sky.

“Not today, Wolf,” Jinni said, turning to go back.

Rain fell like shards of ice; pricking the sensitive tip of Ewan’s nose and making him sneeze. Already Jinni was dematerializing. With a huff, Ewan called the change to him. Unbecoming, as easy to him now as breathing. In moments his bones had shifted, his muscle lengthened, and he stood on two legs, attempting not to flinch as the rain pelted his sensitive flesh.

“Jinni, ye damn fool. Ye’re coming with me. I’ve need of yer assistance,” he growled, the weather making his words sharp and raspy.

Jinni had never been a gregarious sort, but it wasn’t hard to see the twinkle in his once vibrant brown eyes turning a dull shade of gray. He was disappearing, becoming nothing more than a pale imitation of his former self.

“For what?” Jinni asked. “I’m no use to anyone anymore.”

Ewan had to strain to hear over the wail of the winds. Black sky ripped open with a jagged streak of yellow light, thunder exploded in their ears.

“To scare away the Jabberwocky should he come.” Ewan cupped his mouth to be heard.

He rolled his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest, and said, “And how am I to do that? Cry boo?”

When Ewan had first come to Danika, he’d hated her. Hated his life. To have found his mate and have her stripped away on that very same night; it’d driven him to madness. Hatter had been useless, his lunacy more than Ewan could bear. Gerard and Hook, neither one could be counted as friend. But it’d been Jinni, who’d brought him back from the brink. He still wasn’t sure why the genie had done it for him, but he was grateful. Those had been dark days, dark times. He trembled remembering.

“Have ye seen your face lately, ghost? ‘Tis a frightful sight. Ye’d scare anyone with a glance.”

Jinni snorted, but something of the old twinkle came back to his face. “I’m not good company today, Wolf. Leave me be.” He turned, clearly intending to disappear once more into the goddess forsaken excuse he called a home.

Ewan snarled. “I’ll howl the entire bloody night, be a constant source of irritation in yer miserable existence. Ye will come. Now, or later, but ye will come. Decide, Jinni.” He narrowed his eyes at the still visage of his floating friend.

Seconds ticked past, then a minute, two. Jinni didn’t turn, didn’t move or even flinch, for a moment Ewan considered he might have to put his search on hold just to make good on his threat when the specter finally heaved a loud sigh of disapproval.

“Lead the way, filthy mongrel,” Jinni said, but there was no heat behind the words, more a detached acceptance.

It wasn’t in his nature to be particularly thoughtful of the feelings of others, especially another male, but Ewan worried at this rate the genie may not be around another year.

A particularly strong gust barreled into Ewan just then, nearly knocking him flat and forcing him to shove thoughts of genie aside. He needed to become the wolf again; next gale might drive him below sea. Gods forbid that should happen, t’was nigh impossible to extricate oneself from within a sea maiden’s clutches for at least a fortnight should she catch you. Lustful wenches they were.

Calling his power, he shifted, content to be back in wolf form. Sounds were sharper, smells richer, and his senses more keen.

He shot like a bolt away from the cliff’s, not worried about going slower. Jinni could follow with a thought.

The moment Ewan entered Hatter’s woods the landscape shifted. Trees, once tall with trunks thick and brown, were now contorted monstrosities painted in rainbow hues. Some were speckled, others striped. Leaves the color of rust reached out on twisted limbs, attempting to wrap their snake like ends around his tail.

The magic in these woods distorted and twisted everything. Anywhere else in Kingdom a tree was just a tree, but not here. These trees did not bear fruit for others, nor were they attractive to gaze upon. They were carnivores, seeking easy prey to devour.

But that was only the beginning of the surprises to be had within the mad realm.

Birds and insects flitted by, resembling that which they were named after. Horse flies whinnied at his passing. Wolf could not stop, and would not look back. Only the unschooled did so. Before Alice, the woods still held an element of the arcane, but it’d been tame, innocent, and not nearly so dark.

Since her return, the woods were full to bursting with the Hatter’s mad magic. Trees that’d seemed mundane in years past were once again treacherous and capable of killing an unwary soul.

Pollen dusted his nose when he ran headlong into a thicket of posies and thorns. Ewan sneezed, clawing at his nose, but never stopping. Not when the hooked thorns tore into his side, nor when Jinni laughed.

“Your obsession with finding your mate is not worth this, surely, Wolf?”

Ewan ignored him.

Morpho butterflies erupted from the brush, filling the sky with their electric blue shimmering. Pads of butter squirted from them, coating Ewan’s fur with the sweet hint of clover. He curled his nose, hating when they did that.

A distant howl rang through the woods and the fur around his neck stood up. Lips curled back, teeth gleamed as he growled low and pushed harder, kicking up dirt in his wake. Demonic laughter zigzagged all around him. High, low, in the sky, in the ground. A crescent slice of teeth materialized in his sights.

“Whom, do you seek?” Cheshire asked. “Oh wait...” A tiger striped face manifested within a plume of smoke. “We all know the answer to that riddle, do we not? Big. Bad. Wolf.”

Snarling, Ewan plowed through the image, huffing as he inhaled the brimstone fumes.

Eyes, independent of one another, bounced inside Jinni’s chest. Blinking, opening wide, and then narrowing into slits.

Jinni rolled his own eyes, but apart from that, gave no other indication of annoyance.

“Hmmm...” Cheshire’s ghostly voice returned.

The floating eyes turned its glance on Ewan—who was now coated in sweat, pulse hammering wildly as he tried to reach the edge of the woods with his sanity intact.

A branch rushed out, latching onto Jinni’s ephemeral ankle. But Jinni phased through it, the tree shuddered and shook a wooden fist at him.

Just a little further.

Ewan sailed clear of a tree root lifting up from the ground.

“I could tell you where she’s at,Wolf.” The cat smiled its ghostly smile up at him with pointed teeth sharper than his own.

Blood rushed through Ewan’s ears, his heart thumped hard against his ribcage. The cat lied. He always lied. He was a trickster, a deceiver, better to tune him out.

But what if he knew?

Blinking furiously, panting even harder, Ewan shook his head. How could the cat know? Not even Danika knew? T’was impossible, the cat toyed with him again.

Pain ripped through his sides as he ran harder, using every ounce of energy left to exit the woods quickly. Ahead he saw the glimmering wave of twilight, the edge of Hatter’s forest. Warmth seeped from his padded feet, he’d cut himself somewhere. Almost as if the thought conjured them, gnats descended in a black haze, attracted to the scent of his sweat and blood, they nipped at him.

“Don’t you want to know?” Cheshire floated fully in front of him, relaxed and licking one paw. “Aren’t you even the slightest bit curious?”

“Go away, cat,” Jinni said sharply, his vaporous hand streaked through the tabby, who only laughed as if he’d been tickled.

Squeezing his eyes shut for a brief moment, Ewan tried to recall where he’d heard her cries. Yesterday hunting along the border of the woods, he’d heard her faint call. She’d whispered ‘wolf’ and his heart had clenched. For the first time ever he felt hope, hope that his ordeal would soon be over.

He looked around him, at the still black night, at the trees that were now returning to normal. Somewhere a raven cawed. He licked his teeth. Malvena had spies everywhere.

Miriam had been right all those years ago. Malvena no longer cared whether Ewan lived or died, but that did not mean she’d left him in peace. It’d been years since he’d worked for her, but Ewan knew her mind, knew the mystery of that night ate her alive. No doubt, Patrick the Red had been killed. He might have felt a flicker of remorse, but Patrick had tried to end his mate’s life, sadness was simply not in him. If Malvena hadn’t done it, caution be damned, Ewan would have. He’d have found a way to slink back to his clan just so that he could rip Patrick’s still beating heart from his chest for daring to lay one claw on her.

The cat floated at the edge of sanity and reason, a creature of madness and lunacy unable to go further for fear of losing himself beyond the safety of his magic forest.

Ahead the land rolled like the soft swell of a rolling sea. Stopping, Ewan panted, catching his breath, waiting for his heartbeat to return to its normal rhythm. Jinni floated by his side, gazing up at the bejeweled sky with profound longing painted on his face.

“The fairy has lied to you, wolf.” Cheshire lifted a brow, the perpetual grin curving higher like twin sickles. Cat’s voice was low, filled with hubris. “The girl is not here. She never was. She’s on Earth. A place called, A-Laska.”

His chuckle grated on Ewan’s nerves.

Popping his eyeballs out, Cheshire juggled them in the palms of his fuzzy hands. “Ask me how I know, dog.”

“The cat lies, Ewan,” Jinni hissed. “Do not listen to his madness.”

“Do I? I did not think that I did.” He tossed the eyes higher into the air with each pass, until finally he threw them so hard, they blazed a white streak through the night.

A memory floated to the very edge of his consciousness, so brief it’d almost slipped by unnoticed. Ewan latched onto the image. Danika had mentioned something at the table the night she’d promised Hatter his mate; their mates were from Earth.

His nostrils fluttered. He’d dismissed her words as unimportant, all knew Red was his, and hidden somewhere within Kingdom. Danika had been talking to the others, not to him.

But what if she hadn’t been? What if she’d slipped and he’d been too stupid to realize it? Was Red on Earth? And if so, why had Danika sent him on chases all through Kingdom for years with ‘sightings’. Surely not. His godmother wouldn’t lie to him? Not like that.

But what if...

Calling the unbecoming, Ewan ignored the sharp sizzle of snapping, sliding bones, and strutted to the gloating cat.

“What do ye ken, Cheshire?” His voice shook from the depths of his belly.

Balls of white fell back to the cat’s open mouth. He swallowed the twin orbs and blinking rapidly, readjusted his pale silver eyes before answering. “The birds talk. Talk. Talk. Incessant chatter; drives me simply mad.”

He narrowed his eyes, tugged on the cat’s scruff, surprised Cheshire let him. It didn’t last long, the cat faded in a puff of smoke. Only his whisper remained.

“She’s been found.” Then he laughed, and the woods behind him echoed with the strain of a thousand eerie cackles.

“What?!” Ewan thundered, whirling on the only other soul around.

“He’s a liar,” Jinni said with a firm shake of his head. “Do not listen.”

Fury ripped through his body, blanketed his mind with visions of death, and gore. “Danika!” Ewan thundered, roared her names to the heavens.

Hot air smacked his cheek, and with a crack of lightening, Danika hovered before him. Corn silk blue eyes were large in her pale face; wisps of gray blond curls framed her head in a halo effect. But he wasn’t fooled. He knew what the fairies were capable of, had seen their savagery for himself.

Taking a deep breath, Danika nodded. “It is true.”

Words escaped him, his mind went blank.

“The cat should not have told you. I came only just now to—”

Snarling, Ewan snatched her from the air, wishing her could squeeze the life from her fragile body. “How could ye? I’ve done all ye’ve asked and more. Trusting ye would help me find her, ye swore it. When I found Gerard that was yer promise. Yer oath...”

Her lashes fluttered, but gave no other outward sign of distress. “Three months ago Miriam told me—”

Trembling, Ewan dropped her, knowing he’d kill her if he held on any longer. “Miriam,” he thundered, his brogue becoming deeper with his shock. “Ye’ve talked with the Shunned? How long, Danika? How long have ye known where to find my mate? How bloody long!” Spittle flew from his lips, but he didn’t care. His vision swam in his head, out of focus, in and out making him dizzy.

“Since the beginning.”

There was no longer heat in veins, but ice. It sunk its claws into his soul, turning him numb. “An eternity,” he murmured and she flinched.

Memories crashed over him, rolling past his mind in a constant stream. Macabre visions of a desperate wolf mad with want for his mate. Bloody knives slicing through veins, rushing into the fray of battle as fiery arrows pierced his jugular, being forced repeatedly by fairy magic to return to the land of living. Dying slowly inside each day, soul shriveling down to nothing as the years rolled by one after the other. Returned from death so many times. Alive. But never whole.

She must have known, must have realized what the separation did to him. Danika had begun sending him on missions of hope. The flowers had spotted the Heartsong hidden deep within the Ogre’s woods, atop Cloud Mountain, within the briny depths of Davy Jones’ locker. Danika had sent him on fool’s errand, knowing all along his mate was on Earth.

“How did you do it?” he asked, his voice dead, monotone.

Danika licked her lips, glancing at Jinni, then back at him. “You must understand, I did what I must. T’was for the good of Kingdom, for us all...”

He held up his hand, unwilling to listen to one more word fall from her viperous, liars tongue.

“Answer the question, fairy. How did ye make me hear her last night? Did ye throw yer voice? Bribe Cheshire with a bag of bloody hearts? HOW?”

As he’d spoken, she’d begun to look more and more confused, until finally shaking her head, she said, “You heard her? Are you sure?”

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.” Each word, so full of scorn, made her flit back, as if slapped. “How did ye do it?”

“I...I didn’t. I...” she grabbed her face, “dear gods, you heard her? Then it really is time. Miriam was right, the hour is upon us. You must save her, Ewan.”

Hissing, he thrust his face to within inches of hers, forcing her to back up. Her dragonfly wings trembled violently.

“Where is she?”

She took a deep breath. “She is where the cat claimed. Alaska. Malvena’s spies are close, Miriam has already killed many.”

He made to go, but she reached out a small hand to stop him. Ewan shrugged her off.

Hugging her hand to her chest, she said, “This is bigger than you, or her, Ewan. The moment Violet steps foot in Kingdom it will be a race against time. Not only will Malvena sense the return of the Heartsong, so will Galeta.”

“I don’t care.”

“You must!” she shrieked, face contorting, blunt teeth becoming momentarily sharp as familiar eyes bled with shades of red. The kind visage became for a moment, the true face of the fae. “I’ve not protected her all these years only to have her slaughtered because you feel the need to rut her like a mad fool. She is not what you think she is, Ewan. Aye, she’s your mate, but she is much more than that. Much more than just fairy magic. Do you understand what the lass truly is?”

Grinding his jaw, he inhaled deeply. “Mine. That’s what she is. I’ll protect her—”

She scoffed, her laughter hollow and dripped with scorn. “Do you not wonder, for even a moment, why she’s been hidden? Why I lied to you? I love all my boys. I always have. Especially you, you were never supposed to be mine. You belonged to the dark witch and I hated you for it. For choosing her, for fighting for wrong. But then I saw your heart and I hated myself for lying to you. The girl is powerful, but she’s dark. Wicked. Her heart is full of hate.”

“Because of ye and yer kind,” he growled, unable to hold his tongue. Nails clawed grooves in the palms of his hands.

“Nay! Because it is in her nature.” Danika’s wand sputtered and crackled with energy, no longer did the wee fae tremble. “She is all the darkness that is within a fae soul. Thousands of years, legend states, that the Ten most powerful fairies in all of Kingdom divested themselves of their darker nature. Dumping that darkness into the earth. That blight took form. A beautiful babe emerged from the ground, swaddled in shadow. They should have killed it then.”

He growled and her eyes shot to his.

“But they couldn’t. She was a child, and the Ten decided Jana was the most pure of them, and would guard her, keep her safe.”

Ewan remembered the day Malvena’s crows sought out his clan. A muscle in his jaw ticked as the night turned chilly. “I ken what happened.”

She nodded. “Aye, as do I.”

“Why did ye keep us apart?”

Danika pinched the bridge of her nose, her features reflecting the innocence of before. “She must kill Malvena. ‘Tis the only way.”

“I could kill the Black. I know her weaknesses.”

She shook her head, her curls bobbed hard. “No, it has been foretold, it must be the girl and no other. But to do it, she had to come into her powers and to do that, she had to learn to hate. Her powers are driven by darkness, Ewan. Not love. Not light. Keeping her safe and sheltered kept her weak.”

“I need her back,” he heard himself plead, hated himself for it, but he was desperate.

“She will hate you,” Danika didn’t blink, “but in order for her not to destroy herself, and all of Kingdom with her, she needs you too.” She closed her eyes. “This will not be easy, Ewan. But I will do all that I can to protect you both and see you safely to Malvena’s castle.”

“I understand why ye did it, Danika.”

Her eyes were wide, brimming with unshed tears, a soft smile flickered the corner of her rosebud lips.

“But I don’t forgive ye for it. Take me to my mate.”

A single tear spilled from her left eye. She didn’t wipe it up. “Aye, Ewan. I’ll take you.” Glancing at Jinni, Danika nodded. “It is good that you are here, Jinni.”

His lips curled into a tight grimace. “Deceiver. I hate your kind, I always have.”

The old fire returned to her face and a nasty smirk crossed her lips. “You and I are not so different, are we genie? Or have you forgotten what brought you to me?”

His hand flexed into a tight fist.

“Aye, my friend, not so very different at all.” She nodded toward Ewan. “You’re to go with him. You’ve a purpose to fill in all of this.” With those words, she swished her wand, a glowing portal opened before them and Ewan’s heart sped.

There would be blood. Lots of it.

Chapter 4

The moment they stepped through Danika’s tunnel, he smelled her. But she was different. Before she’d been fresh, like the sharp scent of verdant grass and new life. She still smelled of life, the warmth of the sun, and magic... but all of it edged in violence.

The woods were dark, shadows danced on trees, twisting them into shades of the macabre. Ewan ran, ignoring Danika’s cries or Jinni’s caution. Blood—particles of it—tickled his sensitive nose, teased his brain with visions of slaughter. The metallic, iron rich scent flooded his synapses, making him go blank, think of nothing other than his desperate need to reach his mate.

After all this time, she was near. And though there was blood, the scent of her crisp scent reached out to him, shivering across his skin like thousands of massaging fingers.

Air, thick and white, puffed from his jaws as he urged his muscles to work harder, push faster. He swerved in and around trees, paws sinking into the thick fluffy snow. Sweat slathered his haunches, even as the cold brushed an icy caress against his face, threatening to freeze the air he frantically gulped into heaving lungs.

Ahead a wash of light beckoned like a beacon, he was a moth to its flame, drawn by scent and sight. She was in there.

His heart clenched.

There were wolves about, he smelled their woodsy musk. The stench of their mistress lay heavy in the woods, like oily residue it clung to his pelt, reeking of death and decay. Black beady eyes stared at him from within the shadows of the trees; he didn’t need to see them to feel them everywhere. He’d worked for Malvena for centuries; he knew the way her twisted mind worked. The crows were here, they’d found her.

With a huff, he pushed fatiguing muscles to their limits, stretching his limbs to the point of pain, anything to reach her faster.

The light grew brighter, opening like a golden bloom, filling his mind and head. Was she safe? What would he find?

Roaring, he shouldered his way through the half open door, panting like a hound of hell come to devour a soul. His eyes scanned frantically, his nose lifted, scenting the eerie stillness of her home. Memories plagued him, bombarded his thoughts, so that he whimpered remembering the night long ago. The hated memories of seeing his mate curled within her red hood, shielding her body from him.

Calling the unbecoming, Ewan shifted. “Violet,” he screamed, adrenaline flooded his tongue, his throat. Bile worked its way up, like a panicked horse spotting a snake on its path, dread surged within him.

“Violet, where the bloody hell are ye, lass? Answer me!”

He smelled her everywhere, blood so much blood, and yet there was nothing. Like his nose and his eyes worked independent of one another. He turned in a circle, there were wood carved chairs covered in colorful knitted blankets, threadbare rugs, a crackling flame in a hearth. All so peaceful, serene, but his nose knew truth. Violence had happened here.

He ran through the small cottage, following the confusing miasma of scents. Blood and sunshine. Where was she? There were three rooms, each white, each bare; with nothing to distinguish one from the other. All empty. Each time he opened a door, his heart pounded harder.

“Violet, lass, I ken yer around. Shew yerself,” he said, brogue becoming so thick it was nearly unintelligible. Madness swirled through his veins, blanketed his vision. So close, closer than he’d been in years. He’d not be denied now.

He threw open another door. A bathroom; and here the blood was thickest. Viscous, coating the inside of his mouth with iron so thick he gagged. Gods above, someone had died. That was the only thing that could account for so much blood.

Then he saw it, a ripple like a wave in a placid pool, in the very bottom corner of the small room. And the moment he spotted the ripple, he felt the undulation of fairy magic move against his chest like a gentle swell. But though he knew magic covered the truth, he could not see through the casting.

“Violet,” he roared, “I’ll not harm ye, lass.” Was his mate dying? Dead? He shuddered, unable to bear thought.

“Hush, now,” a strong female voice shushed him, then a face he could never forget scowled at him. “Ye’ll bring the wolves.”

“Shunned,” he warned, voice trembling with a rumble of violence seconds from erupting, “where is she?” His fingers clenched, unclenched, wanting desperately to smash his fist through something and watch the blood spill.

Miriam looked as if she wanted to say more, her lips thinned, and with a jerk of her head she pointed toward the living room. Immediately the mirage dropped, and the truth of what he’d smelled was now visible to the eye.

A trail of blood, black as night, saturated the carpets. Bloody handprints dotted the walls, as if someone had dragged themselves along.

Ewan jogged, it didn’t take him long before he saw her. He wanted to savor the moment, the first time in years he’d seen her, was within reaching distance of his mate, but he couldn’t. Her lips were blue, her skin lily white.

The blonde hair he’d remembered that curled so effortlessly around her face, now hung limp and crusted with blood. Her hand rested on her breast, not a muscle moved, her chest did not rise, and Ewan’s heart slid to his feet. Suddenly he felt too heavy for his body, but somehow he was able to make his way to her.

A macabre vision of loveliness formed in his eyes. Finally able to give into his weakness, he dropped to his knees, not knowing where to touch her. A strange sound kept flitting in his ear, an annoying moan he couldn’t place.

Gingerly, not wanting to further injure her, he hefted her slight weight into his arms. The moan grew louder, then voices sifted through his consciousness, but they were distorted—filtered through a long tunnel, low and hard to understand.

His hand was so dark against her pale, lovely face. Her neck was tilted at an odd angle, blonde hair rained down around her shoulders. The moaning grew louder, like the buzz of an angry wasp’s nest disturbed. He traced the curve of her sharp cheekbone, gently, reverently. Following the line to her nose, so straight and perfect, her heart shaped jaw. Small, beautiful ears. She had freckles. He’d never known that. Flattening his fingertips against her neck he waited.

There was no pulse.

Blue lips did not part to utter protest at her lover’s caress. She still looked as young and as angelic as he’d remembered, she’d aged not at all. Youth personified was his mate. Slowly, with measured ease, he slid his hand down the front of her still, cold body. Where was the wound? What had wrecked such devastation upon her? He smelled wolf, the stench of it lay thick in his nostrils—the musk of woods and upturned leaves, of bloody meat, and fatty marrow.

His hands slipped beneath her shirt. Maybe there was still time. Maybe the fairies could still heal her. Then his fingers found thick groves torn within her flesh, deep into the muscle. A sickening suction pulled at his digit and he shuddered, fire burned his throat. The sound cascaded all around him; the low moan was now an eruption of pain.

His chest heaved, his eyes swelled, and then he howled, pulling her beloved face into his chest. Crying out to the night; pain pouring out through his song.

Hands clasped onto his shoulders. Small ones, they squeezed. “Ewan,” Danika began.

He hissed, jerking out of her reach, rushing to his feet; holding the lifeless body to his chest, as if he could somehow force his life’s essence into her.

“Ye did this!” He snarled, the wild in him coming to the forefront, obscuring his reason or sanity. Only knowing the pain consumed and burned and he needed to release it or risk dying from the agony of his shattered soul.

Human size again, her eyes were huge, filled with sadness and unshed tears. “We must leave here, Ewan. There is dark magic about, the crows have surely reported to their mistress.”

“I will not leave her.” His words were vicious, sharper than a sword.

Miriam stood in front of Danika, almost as if shielding her.

“Move away, Shunned,” he warned.

“Hear me, Ewan of the clan Black Foot,” her words trembled with a surge of raw power, it crackled through the air like a heavy ball of static. “She is nay dead, though she may appear it.”

Ewan wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. Afraid to breath, to believe, for fear it would turn out to be nothing more than a cruel joke, he whispered, “what do ye mean, nay dead?”

His tongue felt thick in his mouth; his throat in parched agony. Adrenaline flooded his brain, made him shake as his fingers dug into Violet’s still chest, praying with all his soul the fairy spoke true.

Miriam looked around as shadows danced in her eyes; a pulse darted in her throat. She was nervous, she reeked of it. “We’ve been found a few weeks ago now. I’ve been killing the wolves and dumping their carcasses far from our home, hoping to keep the lass in the dark at least until I could arrange our departure.” She closed her eyes, wringing her hands. “I’d thought I’d been so clever, keeping it from her. But she must have found out. She must have found one. She took him on, very nearly died. I’ve had to place her in a Sleeping Beauty spell. She is locked, frozen in time. In order for her to survive, we must return to Kingdom this night.”

He swallowed the bile that’d lodged tight in his throat. She was asleep. Hands shaking violently, he brought her face to his, kissing her lips softly. Knowing the kiss would not wake her, this wasn’t a fairy tale after all, but hope bloomed deep in his soul. She was alive, still here. He did not care if she hated him now, she wouldn’t later. Ewan would show her the depths of his love, his devotion, and passion. Together they’d overcome Malvena. The madness of losing her faded slowly away. This he could deal with.

“The Ten will know if we sail into Kingdom, Mir, you told me that before. Remember? How can we sneak in?” Danika’s words were rushed, full of fear.

Miriam smiled and hugged her friend softly. “Ssh, now. It matters not.”

“How can you say that?”

Ewan rubbed Violet’s back, reveling in his ability to touch her again. Hold her. He’d never let go, never again.

“I’ve been busy while I’ve been away, Dani.” Miriam’s old face and countenance transformed suddenly, she appeared younger now, and more spry as her hands flitted about wildly. “I’ve set up an underground network of spies and allies, they will usher us safely toward Malvena’s keep.” Miriam glanced at Ewan, the strange lavender eyes keen and sharp as she said, “we must split up. We cannot travel together. Dani and I will take one path, you with Violet...” she nodded, and reaching into her skirt pocket, extracted a rolled parchment, “will take another.”

He grabbed the tan roll from her hand, knowing it to be a map of some sort. Glancing at it quickly, he looked back at her.

“Read it, learn it, then burn it.” Her gaze bored into his, hot and demanding. “If anyone discovers this trail, we’re ruined.”

Danika licked her lips and Ewan’s pulse thumped.

“We’ve one chance, Wolf. One, to right the wrongs of a night long ago. Can I trust ye to keep her safe?”

His nostrils flared, anger burned through his veins like a shot of poison. “None will harm her, I vow it.”

She exhaled; her small shoulders sagged with relief. “Good. Good.” Miriam grabbed Danika by the elbow, leading her away. “The moment the lass passes through into Kingdom, Sleeping Beauty’s spell will dissolve. Do not contact us for any reason, the map will lead ye. Stay to the course. I’ve got a tracker on Violet, but it’s not always reliable. Do yer best.” She shook her head. “Goddess be with ye, Wolf.”

Her words still quivered with worry. Ewan frowned. “I’ll guard her with my life, Shunned.”

Miriam’s mouth turned down. “Be wary of her, Ewan, she is not what you think.” With those cryptic words, she walked away.

Danika hung back. She looked the same aged sprite he remembered, slightly pudgy, face filled with a goodly light, but there was tension now where there didn’t used to be. Perhaps she had tried to do best by him, but the wound was still too fresh, too raw to forgive and forget.

She nodded, as if she understood his thoughts. “I’ll open a portal for you both, it won’t last long. I smell the wolves all around us. Jinni,” she looked at the silent, nearly translucent ghost of a man. Dark eyes burned with some unnamed emotion. “You are not to accompany us. You must stay here in Alaska, go due north. Several miles out, there’ll be a flat clearing with a star in it. Wait there.”

The ghostly jaw worked from side to side. “How long?”

“Until it’s time.” Inhaling sharply, she nodded, and left.

Ewan had seconds. He turned to look at his friend, the only one of the bad 5 who’d ever treated him with an ounce of friendship. He held out his hand. “May the sun shine upon you, my friend.”

Morose eyes stared back at him. A cold shiver passed through him when Jinni’s hand phased through his own. Goose pimples rode the length of forearm. “And you, Wolf.”

With a nod, Ewan ran from the demons creeping closely on their heels.

Chapter 5

Ewan stood within the safe embrace of the spiraling tunnel, scanning unfamiliar surroundings. Night sang all around him, the whistle and whisper of the wind telling its secrets on the gentle breeze. Cicadas hummed, the bejeweled sky glinted so bright as to seem a sort of twilight.

Ewan hefted Violet higher in his arms, cradling her limp head against the firm beat of his heart, willing her to open her eyes. They hadn’t yet crossed the threshold into Kingdom, his heart thumped hard at the thought of finally getting to introduce himself; know her, have her know him. Cursing his clumsy human form, he scented the impossible stretch of dun colored sand dunes, trying in vain to detect friend from foe. He’d committed Miriam’s map to heart, surprised at the many stops they were to make before reaching Malvena’s keep, he’d had no flint to burn the scroll with, so he’d dropped it somewhere within the channel of light that’d transported them here.

Twin planets, glowing a hazy bluish-lavender, filled half the sky. Kingdom was massive, beyond imagining. Ewan had never left the comfort and safety of the western borders; this was eastern lands, Jinni’s territory. He could have used the ghost now, though Jinni would likely have thought Miriam crazy for bringing them here.

In the distance, beyond rolling hills, lights flickered and danced. That was the first of many stops for them. Gathering his courage close and Violet closer, he kissed her cold brow and stepped beyond the threshold.

Pulse rushing through his ears, drowning out all other noise, he watched and waited for the first flickering of the spell to dissolve. The breeze caught a streamer of blond hair, wrapping it like a coil around his wrist. He wasn’t sure how much time passed as he waited; a buzzing noise forced him to glance up. The green iridescent body of a large scarab beetle sailed past his periphery.

There was no time to waste, outside, they were exposed, his feet took them where his mind dreaded to go. Sand caught between his toes, rubbing them raw the farther he walked. The lights that’d seemed so close before, mocked him, seeming to move further and further away the more he walked. One hour slipped by, then one more. Soon, he’d lost track of time completely.

In a trance like state of shuffle, step, shuffle. Sweat and sand irritated his skin, made him growl and burn from the constant friction. But he couldn’t stop; they had to get to safety.

The planets cast long shadows, almost obscuring the moon’s glow. T’was hard to know precisely how much time had passed, but his muscles ached. This would be so much easier in wolf form. This land was nothing but an endless sea of sand. Why hadn’t the fairy dropped them off within the village?

Eventually, even his thoughts ceased, caught up in just getting there.

Biceps and thighs trembling, he climbed the long hills. Up and down, down and up, one after another, landscape never shifting or offering surcease. A brutal test of his endurance, alone he could climb hill after hill, but holding onto dead weight while doing it in his weaker human form, coated him in a thick sheen of sweat. Hair clung to the back of his neck, wet and uncomfortable.

The abrasive sand rubbed his feet raw, a suspicious wetness gathered on his heels.

“Red,” he whispered, lungs heaving for relief from the humid night, “wake, my love. We’re in Kingdom.”

She did not respond, but he would not lose hope, because now her lips no longer resembled a permafrost blue, but the rosy pink of health. The spell had begun to lift.

“Ye are so lovely, Vi,” he inhaled, “and I ken ye have nay knowledge of me, but I promise ye this... none will ever hurt ye again.”

Preserving the remnants of his energy, he stopped talking or thinking about anything other than the beckoning flames. Ewan urged his shaking legs to top the crest of yet another hill and this time, the lights were there. Not twenty yards ahead. The village moved with life, people moved in and out of houses shambling around in random patterns.

Smiling grimly, he stopped, taking a moment to rest and study the quaint mud brick village. The night so well lit, he could make out the beige hue of the bricks spiraling up like coral from a seabed. A massive gate and walls surrounded the city; he’d have to figure out a way in without alerting any to their presence. He did not know this land, nor whom to trust. He wasn’t even certain he could trust the spy Miriam led them to.

A graveyard was their assignation point. Ewan did not know who the spy was, but it filled him with dread knowing where he was to find the individual. Few dared to dwell within dead man’s land, and those that did, were never friendly.

A gaggle of drunken men stumbled out from an oblong door, small children dressed in cream toned clothes raced between homes kicking a ball. But no matter where he looked, he could not find any sign of the graveyard.

Then a chatter of discordant voices reached his ears, men carrying torches suddenly filled the dirt streets. He narrowed his eyes, instinct telling him to crouch.

Guards were kicking in doors, cries of alarm rang out as women were yanked roughly from their homes and thrown to the ground. Children screamed and cried, running to their mothers even as the guards kicked them, demanding to know where the Heartsong was.

Ewan sucked in a sharp breath when a movement from one of the guards exposed a glint of gold around his neck. Malvena’s spies. Here. Already? Danika had worried they’d know, but he’d felt no disturbance in the air, no shifting of the land.

“Bloody hell,” he snarled.

His nostrils flared as he looked about wildly for a cave, a hole, anything to hide them in.

A low growl seeped from his belly, where was the bloody grave? He closed his eyes, trying to remember the map. The image of the village sprang up in his mind and behind it, outside the gates, a small x.

Ewan licked his lips, and glanced over his shoulder. He’d have to go back down the hill, travel horizontally, and hopefully would be able to avoid any eyes that might be on the lookout for his mate. As he was deciding this, a soft whimper made him jerk. Glancing down at his mate’s face, he caressed her blood encrusted hair.

“Be easy, Red.” He hungered to kiss her, taste her, mark her and make her his finally... soon, once they were safe.

It took several more hours; Jinni had always said the nights were blessedly long, and Ewan was thankful the shadows kept their secret. His neck prickled, as if eyes watched, burning a hole through him.

Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed a bright green jewel walking slowly toward him, then another, and another. He cocked his head when he realized they weren’t jewels at all, but beetles. He’d stumbled onto a nest. Not odd in the desert. Shaking his head, he shoved them from his mind.

The scent of jasmine grew redolent; a gentle breeze caressed his sand encrusted body. But he couldn’t allow himself to relax, the clang of steel and cries of the dying was a melancholy song. Goddess help them, he could only hope Miriam’s ally would give them shelter.

But the further he walked; the sweet scent gave way to a musty odor, sickly and putrid. Violet moaned, and ignoring the spasming ache in his arms, he nuzzled her soft cheek. “We’re almost there, Red. Calm yerself.”

Curling his nose, Ewan resisted the urge to vomit. The smells were ghastly, rotten and thick, clinging to his nostrils, forcing his eyes to water as he tried desperately to ignore the sneeze filling his throat.

The moment he stepped around the dune he saw the graveyard and the thick gray fog that shaded its perimeter in gloom. The smell was stronger, noxious. Like meat that’d set out in the baking sun for days, festering and boiling over with maggots.

“Bloody fairy,” he spat, knowing now who the ally was. Glancing at Violet’s twisted face, he worked his jaw from side to side. She was covered in blood, a beacon to this monster.

While he studied her, he did not notice the amorphous black fog coiling around his ankles until it yanked him off his feet, the ground tore into his nude flesh, scraping him raw. Grunting, he was able to still cling to Violet’s body.

“Sssoo much blood,” the sibilant voice rang with greed and perverted joy.

Then a hot tongue, tough as a cat’s, licked the soles of his feet. Ewan kicked at the oily claw wrapped around his ankles, but it was useless. He thrashed even as a demonic mask coalesced within the inky vapor.

“It’s been sssoo long. Sssoo hungry.”

Blood pounding, Ewan twisted away from the fanged teeth. Horns sprouted from the face and jaw, a curved bony protuberance latched onto Violet. Scrabbling for purchase, his hold on her precarious, Ewan grasped a crooked gravestone and grit his teeth against the sensation of his legs moments away from being torn off him.

“Miriam sent us,” he shouted not caring if Malvena’s guards heard. Avoiding imminent death at the hands of a blood thirsty ghoul of far greater importance at the moment.

Instantly the hands dissolved. “The Ssshunned?”

“Aye, ye bloody fool,” Ewan snapped, anger throbbing through his skull as he spat blood and grit from his mouth.

Violet moaned.

Ewan sat up, every muscle in his body ached as he hugged her tight to his side, dizzy and breathless with the reality of how close he’d come to losing her again.

The deformed creature slithered up to them, red eyes glowing like embers as it stared first at him, then her.

“Get away from her,” Ewan growled, he had little strength in him at the moment and he knew the demon ghoul knew it, but he’d die protecting what was his.

The red eyes stared at him briefly before turning to her, ignoring Ewan’s warning, the ghoul sniffed.

The face looked to be chiseled from stone, cracked and splitting from age. The gray pallor of the ghoul’s body nearly indistinguishable from the tombstone’s all around. Kingdom granted immortality, of a sort. One could not die of old age or disease, but death by battle or monster had taken many lives.

“She smells of deathhhh, violence, chaosss,” the ghoul intoned in the deep heavy inflections that made Ewan’s skin crawl and ice heat his veins. Then the eyes returned to him and a long black tongue licked cracked and bleeding lips. “A tassste?”

Growling, Ewan scooted back on his heels, the stench of the creature nauseated him. “She is mine, ghoul. Safe passage, that was the bargain struck with The Shunned, was it no?”

The ghoul snarled, curling his lips. “Yesss,” he spat it like an insult.

Calling his wolf, Ewan let the animal spill in his eyes and growled low, “Then leave off.”

With a bird like hiss, the ghoul backed away.

Heaving a sigh of relief, trembling with a rush of adrenaline, Ewan closed his eyes. The villagers surely knew of the ghoul within the grave, the guards must know it too, meaning none would dare investigate here. But that didn’t make it safe.

The beast was hungry. Soulless, and with a desperate taste for flesh, its appetite was bottomless and unceasing. To be here for any amount of time, vow of safe passage or not, was lunacy.

The creature knew one thing. Hunger. The graves’ held nothing but bones, which meant he and Red were the only meat around. He needed to find the ghoul feed, and there was only one place to do it. Despising the choice, Ewan closed his eyes and whispered, “Many have died this night within the village...”

The words had barely left his mouth before the ghoul cackled with glee and became mist once more, a haunting laugh fluttered behind him.

Shuddering, Ewan kissed Violet’s cheek. Tonight she was safe, and the ghoul would gorge, hopefully for a few hours at least. His stomach roared, twisting and churning in his gut, demanding food. But the stench of death was everywhere and even if he had food, he’d never get any of it down.

Ewan settled against a headstone, eyes staring blankly at the rows of stones all around them. Finally sleep called, and her lure was impossible to ignore.

***

Fire raced jagged claws through his veins. Pain exploded in his brain, and Ewan’s eyes snapped open.

“Move, and I’ll slit you gullet to throat.” The dulcet voice so at odds with the cold press of a blade in his gut.

Chapter 6

She straddled his hips; knife gripped so tight in her hand, her knuckles ached. “Who are you?”

Last thing she remembered was tearing the wolf to bits, slicing through his gut, and then stumbling home, blood leaving a scarlet trail for any predator to follow. In her lust to kill the beast, she’d not known how injured she truly was. Aunt Miriam had dragged her to the bathroom, trying to staunch the constant flow streaming from her belly where the wolf had sliced her repeatedly.

Then Aunt Mir had promised she’d be okay, grabbed her face, and told her to breathe. The rest was blank. Until now. Until him.

His hands shifted and she shoved the knife in deeper, lips curling when she heard his hiss.

“Easy, lass. Easy. I’ll not harm ye.” He held up his hands in entreaty.

Those words spoken in his deep Scottish brogue made her lashes quiver and her thighs tremble. There was no denying the man was beautiful. And the first male she’d touched, ever.

Something about his voice, the way it moved against her body like a soft caress... she’d heard that voice before. Distantly. But how could she have? She’d never have forgotten the face.

It was hard, chiseled, as if by a sculptor. His jaw sharp and well defined, his nose equally severe, and with the slightest crook at the bridge. Dark shaggy brows framed a pair of liquid gold eyes filled with flecks of amber. The epitome of male beauty, save for the scar that curved from his eye to mid-point on his cheek.

Her spine tingled with a rush of appreciation even as anger heated her blood. “I’ll not ask again,” she said, cursing the natural sweetness of her voice, wishing for once she could growl and threaten like the wolf she’d killed earlier. “Who are you?”

He was nude, his muscles lax, his body still, trying to not appear threatening. But she knew it for the sham it was. Felt the hardness of his thighs beneath hers, the flex of muscle as he shifted, slowly lifting his hands. His bronzed skin gleamed with pearls of sweat, adding a luminescent sheen from the sky’s eerie lavender glow.

“Yer mate,” he said, so slowly she wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.

The ropes of his stomach flexed as he tried to sit up, she dug her knife in, briefly casting her eyes down as a thin crimson ribbon appeared where smooth skin had once been.

“Red.” His voice rang in warning, she narrowed her eyes. “Put the knife down.”

It wasn’t a request.

She leaned in, hating that his scent of sweat and musk attracted her so, filled her head with dizzy longing for something she didn’t understand. “My name is not, Red, and I am not your mate.”

Looking up, she studied her alien surroundings. The sky glowed orange with streaks of pink; the land a monotonous shade of beige with a smattering of green palm fronds swaying in a gentle breeze. Magnificent twin orbs, took up a huge section of sky. Large, gray rings surrounded them.

“Where am I? Where have you brought me? Where’s my Aunt?” Panic rushed through her veins, her mouth tasted of cotton and her throat felt raw and parched.

He closed his hypnotic eyes and she could breathe again; when those eyes were on her face, looking at her with heat, it was hard to remember who she was. The strangeness of those foreign emotions made her angry.

Quicker than she could blink, his hands gripped her wrists, and then his hard length was on top of hers, pinning her beneath him. Bucking and screaming, she fought to free herself.

“Stop yelling, lass.” He shoved his face so close to hers, the heat of his body became second skin.

“Get off me,” she wheezed, trying to pound her fists on his hard as steel chest, but she couldn’t move her hands even an inch. Furious, terrified, she did the only thing her wild mind could think of. She bit his forearm.

He hissed as her teeth sank in so deep, the skin broke.

“Lass,” he growled, and she envied the fire in his voice, the deep timbre that flooded her brain with desire and rage, “doona make me hurt ye. Release me.”

Shaking her head, she bit harder, blood pooled on her tongue and the taste of him saturated her senses. It reeked of death, earth, dark power, and wicked nights. A wolf! He was a wolf. Fear slammed her like a wave, and with it came the hate, that sharp flinty passion that consumed her mind like poison and engulfed her body with adrenaline. Wild, crazy to get out from under him, she yanked with the preternatural strength she’d used to massacre the last wolf she’d fought.

He grunted, but his hands released her. She curled her fingers, dragging her nails down his cheeks, leaving welts behind.

Then he had control of her again. “Damn ye, lassie. I dinna wish to do this yet.”

Light filled his eyes; they glowed even as his mouth curled back like a dog’s muzzle. Large fangs dropped and... her heart was going to explode in her chest. His bite was not savage, but it was deep. He bit her collarbone, making her whimper as his fangs sank in.

There were moans, deep and trembling with a need that bordered on desperation. She was doing it. Alive, consumed by passion, tremors wracked her frame as she panted through the liquid pleasure. Lit with desire, her sanity screamed at her to get away, but her traitorous body could only undulate as the pleasure overwhelmed her with its violence.

“Violet,” her name dropped like a prayer from his lips and that was the catalyst she needed to snap from her stupor.

She shoved him for all she was worth. He was so much stronger than her, he barely budged. A heavy sigh tickled her ear before he kissed her neck so softly it was almost a whisper, he scooted back.

Finally free of the blinding, all-consuming craving for more, she gripped her neck. Blood stained her fingertips, but not as much as she’d thought there would be.

“What did you do to me?” she demanded, lungs still heaving for air, scooting back on her heels until her back was plastered against a gravestone. Traitorous body tingling, not with anger, but with desire so consuming she had to claw her nails into the dirt to keep from crawling back for more.

His eyes were shaded, thoughtful... haunted?

“I’ve marked ye.”

“You what?” Her brows lowered, and she fought a swell of dizziness as she shoved to her feet, slipping her hand casually into her back jean pocket.

Kneeling, he glared up at her. There wasn’t hatred, or even anger, but a sort of shock, as if he couldn’t comprehend what’d just taken place between them. He seemed completely unaware of the vicious bite wound in his arm still oozing blood.

They stared intensely at one another for several moments, she with fury, he with a dawning understanding. He broke first. Standing, he took a step toward her. But this time she was faster, and pulled her pocket knife out, slamming her thumb on the button to release the three inch blade. It wouldn’t kill, but it would hurt.

“Red,” he warned with a shake of his head, “stop and listen.”

Every hard line of his body flexed as he moved closer. She didn’t want to notice that about him. She didn’t want to care. Fact was, she’d sever his beautiful head from his neck if he came one inch closer.

“Stay back.” She held the knife out, swishing it from side to side. “I’ve killed your kind before, I’ll do it again.”

He stopped walking, jaw working hard from side to side. “Ye canna harm me. T’was the purpose of the bite, lass. I’ve marked ye, a mate canna harm their own.”

“Liar,” she spat. “I’d never whore myself for a dog. I’m not your mate and so help me, you’d better tell me where I’m at before I cut that,” she pointed at his big, stiff, ugly... thing, “off.”

“Bravo! What fun,” a roughly masculine voice trembled with laughter as he clapped.

Startled, Violet twirled on her heels. A brightly clothed peacock of a man waggled his brows at her.

“I am Kermani,” he said in a strangely accented voice not all together displeasing, melodic, almost mesmerizing. She wasn’t given much time to ponder it before he’d rushed her and grabbed the knife blithely from her hand, hiding it efficiently within the voluminous folds of his turquoise colored pants. She hardly had time to register it was gone, one second it was firm within her grasp, the next she held nothing but air.

“Give it back,” she said.

He wagged a finger. “Within my walls, there is peace. No weapons allowed.”

And yet, it didn’t escape her notice that he’d held onto it.

A short man, slight of build with burnished umber skin gleamed in the early morning light. He bowed theatrically with one arm tucked beneath his waist. “I’m sorry it took me so long to make my acquaintance known, but I had...” his black eyes narrowed shrewdly, “matters most urgent to attend to.”

Face creasing into a friendly smile, he winked. The large golden hoop in his ear gleamed with several large ruby settings.

Violet frowned.

“And ye are?”

Just the sound of the dog’s voice made her wet and gnash her teeth, damn that bald headed thief for taking her only knife.

“My apologies, I’m your ally.”

The wolf cocked his head. “I thought the ghoul...”

Kermani hopped onto a jagged piece of tombstone, crossing his legs. Tan pointed shoes bouncing to and fro. The colors he wore were amazing. Like he’d taken the brightest jewels and spun them into fabric, from the deep red of his strange shirt, to the orange striped scarf he’d wrapped around his waist.

“The ghoul works for me. You have been given safe passage, therefore...” He waved his hand, letting the rest dangle off. “Anyway, come. We’ve food, clothes,” he eyed the wolf with a slight sneer, “and company. Come, come. Even eyes have walls. Or is that, walls have eyes? Hmm...” muttering to himself, he jumped from the crumbling stone and hooked his finger, never glancing back to see if they’d follow.

Crossing her arms, Violet stood where she was. Harmless as the strange gypsy looked, she didn’t trust him. She didn’t know what was happening and until she did, she’d not leave this spot.

With a growl, a strong pair of hands hooked onto her arm above her elbow. “Come.” One word, but it made her body shiver.

Violet had led a sheltered life, but that didn’t mean that she was stupid to the ways of the world. She’d lived a long time, had hidden herself away from prying always, but always watching and learning.

Many years ago, she and Aunt Mir had settled in England, during the days of the Ripper. Violet had been fascinated by the world around her, the constant fog that bathed the gas-lit city and made it impossible to see more than five feet ahead. She’d moved as a wraith through the streets, even at times within the hidden underground network of tunnels and sewers that crisscrossed the underbelly like a giant labyrinth.

The walls had been made of brick, the water foul smelling beneath her feet, everything coated in a thick sludge of unmentionables. Hygiene, or the lack thereof, had killed many. But she’d been sure of her ability to not age and had learned the impossible maze, had even reveled in her ability to be outside of her home, watching the world sing around her, knowing she’d never be caught.

That’s what this place reminded her of. Kermani had surprised her when he’d touched a brass knocker on the wall surrounding the graveyard. A crumbling gravestone had moved silent on oiled hinges, revealing a long staircase that descended into the earth’s bleak darkness. Placing a finger against his lips, he’d headed down the stairs. She’d no fear of the dark and the things that hid in them, but she didn’t want to be so close to the man who’d claimed her as mate.

The wound of her neck chose that moment to throb, stoking the flames of her anger. But not just because he’d bitten her, mostly because she hadn’t wanted him to stop.

Her captor dragged her behind him, his grip still as sure as before, but more protective than commanding. The heat pouring off him felt nice compared to the chilly damp caressing her cheek. Though she hated to admit it.

Kermani grabbed a lit torch from off the stone wall, and smooth as silk, the gravestone covered them, hiding its secret once more behind its ruined façade. Once all light from the outside ceased, Kermani turned to them, the ever present smile lurking on his face.

“We’ve much to discuss. My wives will attend to the girl.”

“The name is Violet,” she said with a glower.

“As you say,” his silky voice could not hide his disregard. “You and I have much to discuss,” he said, to the wolf.

The man only nodded, gripping her arm tighter. “We’ll talk, but nay without her.”

She hissed, yanking her arm out of his hold. “I don’t need you to babysit me, whatever your name is.”

“Ewan,” he answered.

She shrugged. “Whatever. I can see to my own self. I want to be taken back to my aunt, and you to just get the hell away from me, mongrel.”

His face did not shift, but a subtle movement in his gaze let her know the slur had found its mark.

“She’s the one who sent me to ye, Violet.”

It was her turn to flinch. “You lie,” she flung the accusation at him.

“Yes, yes, we’re all liars down here,” Kermani rolled his eyes, “leave the bed sport for later, we’ve matters to discuss.”

Though the man was small and upon first impression, not worth a second glance—there was an edge of steel to his voice that implied he lived beneath no man’s land because death did not bother him.

Ewan made to grab her elbow again, and she reared back, ready to plant her fist through his nose. But powerful pressure gripped her arm, immobilizing it. As if it was set in concrete, she couldn’t move it toward him, though she had no problem lowering it.

Laughter twinkled through his expressive gold eyes. “Canna harm me.”

Doing her best snarl, she plowed past him, following Kermani who was now several steps ahead. What was wrong with her? She traced the edges of her bite, the ridges were still there, the pain—nothing more than a gnat’s bite—could wolves leak poison?

She didn’t feel ill. In fact, she felt alive, energetic. Strong.

So why was she so aware of him?

Of his breaths in and out, the waves of heat rolling off his body like fog on a bank. The way his stride was long, his footsteps nearly silent, save for the small creak in one knee. And the scar. She trembled remembering the smooth line of it. In no way had it detracted from his beauty, only heightened it, turning a model into a warrior. There was a hard edge to him that appealed to the fire within her heart.

And then there was the nagging feeling that she’d seen him before. But when? Something about his eyes, the shape of them. The almond slant and the vivid gold, she’d seen his eyes before.

Hadn’t she?

She nibbled on the corner of her mouth, desperately trying to conjure up the memory.

“Here we are.” Kermani’s words broke her thoughts, he stood by the edge of a hollowed out section of stone made to resemble a door. He gestured within. “Enter, please.”

With a glance at his face, alert to any treachery, she reluctantly stepped through and was amazed to discover the beauty within. Silk splashes of color bathed the red rock in every hue of the rainbow. There were flames tucked within the walls at spaced intervals, well lighting the interior. Finely spun rugs covered every inch of floor, pillows covered in gold and deepest purple were scattered throughout. Black wrought iron chandeliers inset with colored glass hung from beams above, throwing splashes of color everywhere.

She’d watched a movie long ago of a Turkish bazaar. This was exactly like that and she couldn’t stop her grin. It was wonderfully exotic. A crimson curtain was tossed aside and a large woman with the most amazing head of hair stepped out. She bowed to Kermani, clasping her hands together.

“Welcome home, Master,” she said.

He tenderly traced her round cheek, lifting her face for his kiss. There was much restraint in the greeting, but Violet shivered and looked away, aware of the hunger that simmered just below the surface.

It didn’t help though, because Ewan was way too close. It didn’t matter that the welts on his cheek were still swollen, or that his body was covered in sand burns, those hungry eyes were all she could see. She knew he was stripping her of her clothes. Heat crawled up her neck, bloomed in her cheeks. Tension arced through her shoulders, down her spine.

“Look away,” she mumbled, barely even forming the words, urging her brain to snap out of the stupor keeping her dull and unable to think beyond needing to watch him with the same intensity he watched her.

A slow curve of his lips let her know she’d not been as quiet as she’d hoped. He lifted a hand, the movement agonizingly slow.

Her throat was dry, her breathing hard. Then his knuckles brushed her cheek and her body zipped with a strange heat in the lowest part of her belly.

“So bonny,” he breathed and her lashes quivered.

A throat cleared and finally, finally she could think again. Jumping, she hissed and stepped back. The woman’s soft hand covered hers. “Come with me, Heartsong. My name is Marika.”

She had kind eyes. Large and doe like, with an expression of warmth and innocence Violet could not help responding to. Nodding, she followed, and refused to look back.

***

Marika scrubbed harder, and Violet knew she stripped the skin. She clucked and fretted, while below Violet’s feet the water ran pink.

Covered in suds, and skin scalding from the almost too hot water, Marika scrubbed and scrubbed. Beneath her breath bemoaning Violet’s state of unwash. Holding her arms tight to her breasts, she tried to pretend some woman she didn’t know wasn’t currently bathing her.

No matter how many times she’d pleaded that she could do it herself, Marika had insisted, stating it was custom, and that if she didn’t allow it, Kermani would demand justice for the humiliation heaped upon his household. True or not, Violet had finally conceded. But it wasn’t fun, and she wasn’t enjoying it—even if the natural hot spring felt amazing against her raw and torn flesh.

Marika’s skilled fingers set into her hair, again scraping the hide off her scalp as the nails dug in. “What happened to you, daughter?” Marika huffed. “You look like you fought with a sandstorm and the sandstorm won.”

It felt like her brain was rattling side to side, as Marika maneuvered her none too gently.

“I guess sort of. I can’t remember.”

“And the blood? All over. What did that wolf do to you?” Warm brown—almost black—eyes peered at her. “Did he try to eat you?”

Chuckling despite herself, she shook her head and tried to wiggle her head away from the kneading fingers of death. But it was no use, the woman’s fingers were as tough as steel and could probably crack walnut shells bare-handed.

“I did fight a wolf. But not that one.” She frowned, covering Marika’s fingers and stilling them for the moment. “Why am I here? Who is that man?”

Marika’s full lips turned down into a frown. “You mean he did not tell you? Surely, the Shunned—”

She shook her head. “No, my aunt told me nothing. And to be fair,” she rolled her eyes, “I didn’t really give him much chance to either. I was kind of busy trying to slice him into a bloody ribbon when Kermani found us.”

Marika’s lips twitched as her fingers resumed a more gentle lathering. “I don’t know much, daughter. But I overhead Kermani talking with Sherbia the second, that the wolf is your transport to the Black witch’s keep.”

Twisting around—state of undress forgotten—Violet gripped Marika’s wrist. “Why? Why him? Why am I going to Malvena’s—”

Marika shook her head, placing a finger against Violet’s lips. “Hush, daughter. It was a secret I was not supposed to know, sadly I know no more. Now hush.”

Grabbing Violet’s shoulders she turned her around, and didn’t utter another word, quickly bathing her and then pointing to a folded red sheet upon the pale woven mat beside the spring. “Do you know how to dress in the Hadashek style?”

Violet shook her head, wringing the water from her shoulder length hair.

Marika grabbed the jonquil fold at her waist and unwrapped—what had at first appeared to be a dress—from off her body. Violet looked quickly away from the large boned Marika who was surprisingly firm given her size.

“Nudity means nothing to us here, were it not for the flesh eating power of the sand, my people would walk nude constantly. Now watch so you may learn,” her voice was patient, but carried an edge of annoyance.

“Well I’m not used to it. I hope you plan to give that wolf clothes too.”

Marika chuckled and her large breasts bounced with the movement. Violet desperately wanted to look away again, but trained her eye on Marika’s face and ignored the rest.

“He has a fine body. Surely you’ve noticed. Much better than my Kermani,” she quickly touched her breast, “though I would never claim so to him.”

“I don’t think he does. He’s disgusting.”

A sly smile curved the corner of her full lips, coal rimmed eyes narrowed with a knowing glint. “Have you never known the touch of a man?” Then her fingers briefly touched his bite and she winced. “Ah, but you have. Haven’t you?”

She clenched her jaw. “I don’t want his touch.”

Marika’s fingers toyed with the bite, fingers fluttering softer than she’d thought them capable over the bump. “A wolf’s mark. He’s claimed you as mate. I hear the bite is better than sex.”

She shuddered, remembering how she’d felt every cell in her body flaring to life, as if they would splinter apart with pleasure. “He had no right to do it.”

“A wolf cannot claim what is not his. The fact that you bear the mark means you belong to him.”

“I belong to myself,” Violet pounded her chest.

“As you say.” Marika lifted a brow and then proceeded to show Violet how to wrap the cloth around her so that it looked like the dress she’d thought it was earlier.

Getting out of the water, she dried off with the large white puff ball Marika handed her. It felt like cotton, but much more absorbent. Anywhere the white fluff touched it sucked up the water. Clumsy fingers tried to do what Marika had made look so simple. The beautiful fabric hung on her like a large sack.

Marika gave a throaty chuckle and soft shake, her fat curls bounced becomingly around her head. Frustrated, Violet threw out her hands and those nimble fingers of Marika worked their magic once more.

“You’re quite a bit smaller than myself,” Marika muttered, “must fatten you up.”

There was a large swath of fabric at her neck, eyeing it with a frown, the large woman snapped her fingers and then gathered it and lifted it to cover her head like a hood.

“Come look.”

Leading Violet to the back of the steaming room she paused before a smooth black rock that gleamed with light from the inside out. The moment Violet stepped in front of it, she gasped. The rock became a mirror and she could hardly believe she was the same plain Violet.

Marika’s eyes glinted. “Do you never age, Heartsong?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ve been stuck at this age for a long time.”

Sun burnished skin touched her pale cheeks. “You’re a woman, look like one.”

“I don’t know...”

Grabbing a blunt piece of black rock, Marika brought it to her face. “Close your eyes,” she ordered. Something smooth and soft brushed against her eyelids, and then Marika said, “perfect.”

The liner gave her a smoky eye effect, making her look much older and more like a woman than she’d ever thought possible. She smiled, admiring the long line of her neck and column of her throat, seeing her image like it was the first time. Violet smiled softly.

“His heart will stop when he sees you.”

Her jaw jutted out and she turned her back to the rock. It didn’t matter how many times she screamed that that man was not her mate, Marika would insist he was. Whatever. She hadn’t learned much, but if he was leading her to Malvena’s keep, then she had a purpose and a direction. Kill the witch, and all the wolves. Including him. She’d find a way around that spell he’d placed on her.

Bowing, Marika smiled.

“It was my pleasure to serve you.” Then she turned on her heels, as if she planned to leave.

“Wait.” Violet rushed up to her elbow. “Where are you going? Are you leaving me?”

“Sherbia will come to get you for dinner. Relax,” she pointed to the pillows beside the rock mirror. Then she was gone, leaving Violet with her thoughts.

The dress and makeup was beautiful, but why did they insist on pampering her, dressing her up like some doll. For what? To whore herself out to the wolf? Kermani? She shuddered. Goddess forbid.

She plopped onto a large turquoise pillow and plucked at the hem of her dress. Wiggling her toes, she felt suddenly ridiculous, and missed the comforting weight of her knife.

Why hadn’t Aunt Mir told her the truth? In all the years she’d traveled with her, she’d never known her aunt to be anything but loving. So why the secrecy? Where was her aunt now?

And why him? Why would her aunt send her with the wolf as a guide? She knew, Aunt Mir knew her hatred of the wolves. She was there that night when two had slaughtered her grandmother. Aunt Mir had nursed her back to life, given her a loving home to heal in.

Her aunt wasn’t a stupid woman, or even naïve.

Growling, she yanked the bit of charcoal off the counter Marika had used to paint her eyes with and began aimlessly doodling on the ground.

Violet licked her lips, not really looking at what she drew. There had to be an answer. Something she was overlooking. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, aimlessly drawing, when she finally heard another voice.

“Daughter?” A gentle sound, much more timid than Marika’s, intruded into her thoughts.

A beautiful woman stepped in, draped in dark greens and gold, she jingled from the gold chain around her waist as she walked. A golden stud adorned her nose and ink black hair fell in soft waves around slim shoulders.

For a brief moment, Violet experienced a swift pang of jealousy. Large eyes narrowed with fear, and then the woman dipped her head, never looking back at her.

Her reaction was strange and Violet frowned. Surely the woman wasn’t afraid of her.

“My name is Sherbia,” the dulcet voice whispered, “you are to come to dinner.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, unsure of protocol. Violet dropped the charcoal and stood. “My name is Violet,” she thrust out her hand.

“I know who you are. Follow me,” Sherbia said, and turned, leaving Violet to stare at her back in bewilderment.

Confused, she glanced down at her feet for a second and finally saw what she’d drawn on the red rock floor.

The Big Bad Wolf, and the eyes staring back at her were a beautiful almond shape.

Chapter 7

Ewan growled, tearing into the thin baked bread with animal aggression. She was beautiful. Gorgeous, and draped in red silk, so reminiscent of that night. And she wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t return an answer to a simple question.

She was all that was kindness to their host, but him... he might as well not exist.

Pale blond hair peeked out of the hood, heating his blood, making him angry with need and desire. She felt it too, he’d seen it her glance earlier. Red wanted his body as much as he wanted hers.

Incense curled a sinuous path through the cozy stone room. Candles and lanterns spun light everywhere.

“Do you not like the food, daughter?” The one named Marika leaned in to whisper in Violet’s ear.

She’d not done much other than pick at her food, pushing the red curried lentils from side to side with her wedge of flat bread. She smiled and shook her head. “I do. Very spicy. Good. Just not very hungry.”

Marika patted her arm with a motherly smile.

Kermani lifted a brow and shoved the last bit of stewed meat into his mouth. “Dancing, that is what we need.”

He reclined back, stomach bulging, and clapped his hands. Children entered from a side door, they scampered around, collecting the empty serving bowls.

“Bring my hookah,” Kermani commanded a wide eyed youngster, nodding, she jogged back toward the silk partition and disappeared once more within its voluminous fold.

Ewan licked his fingers and then downed a large tumbler of water, drinking slowly of its coolness to help take the sting of heat off his tongue. Sweat trickled down his neck.

“The lamb was delicious, I thank ye,” Ewan clipped his head, grateful for their host’s hospitality. He’d been washed by two maidens, dressed in a strange wrap below the waist, and fed until he’d gorged.

He’d worried Violet might take offense at the thought of strange women bathing him, but it’d only been a passing thought. The chit hated him. T’was fairly obvious to him she’d not come willingly or eager to his bed. Clenching his jaw, his stomach fluttered recalling the hard press of the blade against his bollocks. She’d meant to do it; he’d seen it in her eyes. Inhaling sharply he wondered how he’d get through to her.

Looking at her, he felt anger and grief. It shouldn’t be this way. She was laughing, blue eyes twinkling at something Marika said. If only he could have been there for her that night, held her and nurtured her back to health, things would be so different now.

“Have you had a moment to read the scroll I gave you earlier, wolf?” Kermani asked as the small child laid a gilded silver hookah before them. Reaching out, the slight man grabbed one hose and handed him another.

“Sheesha?” he asked, shaking the hose at him.

Ewan had smoked a time or two with Jinni and never found the taste appealing, but he took the tube and nodded. “A little.”

Kermani inhaled and reclined back once more, a look of contemplation drawn across his brows. “Have you read the scrolls yet?”

His countenance and voice were modulated, polite. But a greedy gleam burned like flame in his dark brown eyes.

Ewan shook his head, pulling in a small amount of the perfumed tobacco. There was a taste of ripe cherries, slightly bitter and astringent on his tongue, but better than the stuff Jinni forced him to inhale.

The scrolls Kermani referred to were the ones he’d handed Ewan the moment Violet had been taken to the bath. His second set of directions from Miriam, and though curiosity burned him, he wanted to study the document at his leisure. “Nay,” he said around a puff of water laced smoke.

“How many stops have you?”

Something about the way the slight man asked gave Ewan pause. Rather than answer directly he shrugged and said, “several.”

“Ah.” Kermani nodded, rubbing his jaw, eyes glinting with something akin to fascination. “Indeed.”

Talk ceased after that as a troop of women covered in sheer red and purple gauzy linens entered the room, heralded by the sounds of bells attached at their hips and ankles. Their laughter was effervescent as they swished and swayed, moving with the casual grace of a jungle predator. A seduction meant to tease, but nothing more.

Ewan glanced at Violet and this time, she was looking at him. Cold, violent hate glittering in the depths of ice blue eyes.

***

Grabbing his forehead, Ewan leaned back against the cold wall of his room. Again there were nothing but pillows scattered everywhere. A thin, rough mat would serve as his bed. He looked at the weathered scroll beside his foot.

Kermani had insisted he’d not read the letter, but, something about the way he’d asked with that avaricious gleam in his eyes made Ewan wonder.

Where was she? Soon after the dancing ended, Violet had been spirited away, and save for that one moment when she’d glared at him with unconcealed hatred, she’d never acknowledged him.

“Bloody hell,” he growled rubbing at the ache spreading through his left temple.

Maybe he’d imagined it all, Kermani’s look and Violet’s distaste.

He snorted, she was safe and his mate. The rest would come with time, for now, he must focus on the task at hand, seeing her safely to Malvena’s castle.

Breaking the wax seal with his thumb, Ewan opened the scroll. It was blank. Flipping it over, he was shocked to notice it was blank also.

“What is this?”

The moment the words left his lips the scroll flew from his hands, hanging suspended before his face. Pearlescent light danced across its surface and then Miriam’s soft voice filled his room with a distant echo.

“Greetings, my wolf. I am happy to know ye’ve made it safely to the thief’s den. A word of caution before I proceed, trust no one. Tell nothing of your trek. We can all be bought for a price. Kermani is a good man, but caution is always best...”

Frowning, Ewan glanced around. There were no doors, but he was all alone, in a separate section of the underground home. Kermani had thought it indecent to allow him to sleep too close to his harem.

He licked his lips.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell ye more before, there was no time. I hope ye’ve destroyed the map I gave ye earlier, there are spies everywhere. Dani and I will travel a circuitous route, our hope is to arrive at the same time ye do with Violet. Ye and the girl will travel by dream stone, I’ve hidden them along the way. Press the stone and a portal will open to yer next location. Do not engage Malvena until we have arrived. Violet is strong, but she is young and untried. I did my best and raised her with all the love I could...”

The scurry of feet caught his attention; he glanced down to notice a mouse scuttling through a small hole in the wall opposite. Hyper aware and sensitive to his surroundings, he prayed Miriam’s message would be brief.

“It is time to tell ye of yer mate, of the darkness that keeps her soul captive...”

Like a fist had punched through his heart, he sat up straighter, desperate to learn more.

“She was conceived of dark magic, as I’m sure Dani told ye by now,” the voice turned distant and thoughtful, “perhaps it was wrong, to keep her naïve of her past. But it was the only way I knew to nurture the hate. Ye see, her magic cannot be worked through good. She is powerful, very powerful, but it is only through hate that her magic can work. So I let her hate ye. For that, I’m sorry...”

His jaw clenched so tight, his molars began to ache.

“But I would do it again, if I had to. She is the key to Malvena’s undoing. Only she can stop the Black. Violet’s power can take many forms, some benign and useful, but most dark and terrifying. I doubt she knows most of what she can do. But her truest power and darkest art, is that she is an eater of souls. It is within her to devour the very essence of the divine...”

Brows lowering, he glanced back at the curtained door, gripped by a powerful urge to seek her out and hold her. His fingers clenched.

“I’ve followed her for years out on her treks, many of which she didn’t know. I can say that she’s only just discovered herself; her knowledge of what she can do is still very much in its infancy. That is why I’ve set up a test at yer next location. She must engage and defeat Hansel and Gretel’s witch.”

Blood spilled on his tongue and he winced, only realizing he’d been chewing on it. Breathing heavy, clenching his hands, on the verge of violence he attempted to slow his pulse by taking deep breaths.

“I’m aware ye must not like that, but it is the only way. We haven’t much time to train her, ye canna help her defeat the witch. But once she has, ye must extract the soul from her body. Ye are her mate, and that is yer duty...”

“Duty,” he snarled. Why hadn’t the damn fairies remembered that in the first place? Surely there was another way to harness her power than by forcing her hatred of him to grow like a slow malignant cancer. But the voice did not stop speaking.

“Let instinct guide ye, ye’ll know what to do when the time comes.” He could almost picture the smile in her voice now. “You are her perfect mate, and more than able to bring her back from the blackness I was forced to allow to fester. That is why the time is now; she is still at the brink, able to be redeemed. If Jana did one thing, it was to show Violet true love in the beginning. The child of darkness was brought up in light.”

He spat, Jana had tried to kill Violet. She’d done nothing good, and he for one was glad he’d butchered her traitorous body.

“Though we both know now she kept Violet in a happy state to suppress her powers so that killing her would be simple, in the end the lesson was learned. Violet is capable of love. She remembers the emotions and yearns for it again. If anyone can drag her back from becoming a monster of legend, it is ye. Her powers have been channeled, now refocus that hate, and she can be won. If however...”

He sucked in a breath, gut clenching, knowing instinctively he would not like what she was about to say.

“I never arrive at Malvena’s, should I die along the way, ye must kill her.”

“How dare you!” he roared, despairing at the thought. Uncaring if anyone heard, he’d never do it.

“Ye may think me cruel, but in fact I only want what’s best for her. She must not engage Malvena without me, because if she does, she may not kill the Black witch and then she’ll be haunted forever, she’ll never stay with you or anyone else. If, however, she does kill Malvena, that level of toxic power will destroy what remains of her sanity and reason. She will be forever lost and beyond all hope of redemption. Either way, she loses.”

Ewan slammed his fist into the wall and the dirt foundation fractured; sending a shower of silt to cover his bed.

A heart shaped pendant manifested from within the scroll and floated to him.

“That is the pendant of truth; I’ve spelled it to reveal the truth of the events of that night. She will need to see it to know the truth. She blames ye for all that happened that night, I deliberately blocked Jana’s deception from her mind. Violet will hate me, as I’m sure ye now do. But even so, I would ask ye to pray for our safe travel. I love my girl, and only want what’s best for her, and ye. May the goddess bless ye.”

The scroll suddenly caught in flame, the heat creeping off its green tinted hue burned his eyes. Within seconds, nothing remained of it save a fine black powder.

Ewan snatched up the pendant, heart racing, mouth dry, and wondering if any of that was true. But knowing deep in the depths of his cold, bleak soul that it was and he be damned if he’d let her die.

“I’ve only just found ye, lass. I’ll not let ye go, nay till I’m cold in the grave.” He curled his fingers around the dark purple stone and held it to his heart.

Sleep did not come for many hours.

***

A shadow stirred in his doorway. Ewan jumped to a crouching position, hearing the rapid breathing of a female. His female.

She smelled of jasmine, rich and earthy and his blood stirred, heating his veins and making him instantly alert.

“Red?” he asked as gently as he could, but couldn’t disguise the need trembling heavy in his brogue.

“It was you,” she said in a voice as dead as the ghoul’s.

He frowned. “Wha—”

“That night.”

She stepped inside the door, and though in human form, his eyes were sharp. He drank in the sight of her like a man parched. Still dressed in red, she was as a lovely wraith with her pale luminescent skin and large blue eyes.

“You’re the black wolf.” Her eyes were vacant, cold. “You killed her.”

He touched the jewel resting against his chest; he’d fallen asleep with it on. “Aye, I killed her, but it’s nay what ye think, Red.”

She didn’t even flinch. “I can’t even hurt you. I stood here in the door for an hour and you’re magic wouldn’t let me enter. Want to know why?” Such a sweet, soft voice. So at odds with its deadness.

Lifting the pendant over his head, he tried handing it to her. “This was given to me by Miriam, it’s the truth of that night. Come here, Red. Come.”

He beckoned her; an uneasy tension slithered up his spine, made the back of his neck tingle.

“For years I’ve thought of you. Obsessed about you, drawing your picture over and over. Always your eyes, they haunt me the most. And I knew when I met you, I’d seen you before. And I was right.”

He blinked. “Lass... please.”

“I hate you. I came here to kill you, to end your miserable life.”

Her words chilled his blood, froze the breath in his lungs. “I would never harm ye, lass. I vow it. I’ve searched for ye, loved ye then and now...”

She didn’t acknowledge his words, only pulled her hands from behind her back. Opening her hand, she showed him what she held. A thin silver hairpin, innocuous, and yet he knew it was more than a hairpin to her. It was long and sharp looking at its tip.

“Lass, what are ye—” He twitched, every muscle screaming at him to pounce on her and throw it away.

She looked at her palm. “What hurts you the most, Ewan?”

Her name on his lips, first time she’d ever called him by his birth name, he should have rejoiced. Standing, he inched toward her. Slowly, like one approaching a wild, scared animal. “I’ve the proof, lass. I can show ye what happened that night. Let me.”

Violet’s eyes blazed, the first time she’d shown any type of emotion. “Answer my question.”

He searched her face, every line, every lash seared into his brain. “You. Nothing could hurt me, but losing ye.”

She closed her eyes. “You took my ability for revenge, but you gave me another instead.”

Moving faster than he’d expected her to, she raked the pin across her wrist. He was on her, wresting the pin out of her fingers, but it was too late. She’d cut deep, blood welled from her pale skin like a dark bloom.

Ewan’s heart seized. He grabbed her by the shoulders, crashing down to the floor with her, his brain unable to comprehend what she’d done. Why she’d done it.

“Red,” he stuttered, pain caught in his throat, threatening to claw itself out, “nay, nay.”

“Hate... you... so... much,” she sobbed and her tears became his.

Grabbing her wrist, Ewan brought it to his mouth. Wolves could heal, they weren’t fast at it, or very good, but good enough. He licked the blood, savoring the sweetness of her, even as his tears mingled on his tongue. Rocking hard, covered in blood, he licked and licked, passing whatever healing he could to her, praying to whatever god might hear him.

“I love ye, lass. Please don’t leave. Don’t leave me again.”

Chapter 8

Dreaming, Violet roamed somewhere between awake and asleep, haunted by images she couldn’t understand.

Her grandmother Jana, standing inside the doorway, alive and aged. Her wrinkled hand beckoning to Violet with hurried gestures.

“My, what big eyes you have, grandmother.” A ghost of a voice whispered.

Jana’s grin widened, the sharp rows of fangs glinting with a coat of something clear, yet thick.

“My, what big teeth you have, grandmother.” The same voice, soft and unsure.

Jana’s eyes were black, full and alien like. So different than the kindly green they’d once been.

“The better to kill you with, my dear...” A sharp, brittle laugh punctuated the small hut and then two wolves jumped out. One red, one black.

The red stalked her, slowly, methodically. Licking its muzzle as its eyes blazed with hunger.

Violet stood, a specter in this vision, watching her past self huddle and cower in the corner; screaming with a bottomless pit of terror that’d blinded her to the truth.

The black wolf wasn’t moving. Its belly heaved as its slitted pupils dilated, then its hackles rose and it jumped Jana, tearing her limb from limb. The red wolf had turned, growling and moaning, as if seeking to understand what’d possessed the black wolf.

Over and over the vision played and she was helpless to its thrall. Wetness coated her face and soft moans rumbled through her chest, for hours she lay, replaying the past, seeing what couldn’t possibly be.

He hadn’t saved her. Ewan had killed her grandmother. But then the visions swept in like a tidal wave and each time she watched it, she knew it was true.

The mystery of that night was finally solved. The last piece of the puzzle she couldn’t remember, her soul accepted and believed, her mind screamed. Everyone had lied to her. Her aunt, Jana, everyone.

But not him.

No!

She trembled, something strong and firm gripped her hard. It was comforting, warm, and she was ashamed and confused.

“Wake up, Red,” the thick brogue whispered in her ear, a caress so soft and sweet. “Open those big blue eyes, look at me. Ye can hate me all ye want, just live, Red. Please.”

The last word was choked out and strained, scratchy and full of something deep and profound, but she couldn’t make sense of it.

Finally the dreams relented, and like a fog being lifted, she opened her eyes. Immediately she noticed a heavy sensation against her breast. Glancing down, she saw a purple pendant pulsing against her bare flesh, his hand pressed tight to it.

His mouth was covered in dried blood; looking like he’d feasted. She hissed, glancing at her wrist, suddenly recalling the demonic anger that’d taken her last night. The pure hatred that’d burned brighter than the sun at its zenith, her need to kill him, end her agony, only to discover there was no way around the enchantment he’d woven with his bite.

She swallowed and didn’t push away when he nuzzled her hair, inhaling her scent deep into his lungs, muttering nonsense she couldn’t understand.

“Let me go,” she finally croaked, voice raw and scratchy, as if she’d actually been screaming throughout the night.

He set her aside gently, and crawled back on his knees, moving like an animal would. But instead of disgust, she found beauty in the motion. A perfect symmetry and balance to it that left her awed.

She was still angry, but wasn’t sure anymore if she should be. Not at him. Violet covered her breasts, hugging her arms to her body.

“What happened?” She rubbed her smooth wrist, tracing the length of the faint pink line.

He scrubbed his face. “Our saliva can heal, I... goddess, lass. What? What can I do?! How can I prove to ye I’m nay the devil ye take me for?” He was yelling, chest heaving, his golden eyes wild. Looking like the wolf she’d seen in the dreams.

Violet tucked her knees to her chest. “What did you do to me?” She pointed to the necklace in his hand.

Throwing the necklace against the wall, the stone cracked. He was angry, his body vibrated with it. He wouldn’t even look at her as he began to pace, rubbing his jaw so hard she was afraid he’d scrub the skin off.

“It was the truth I’d tried to show ye last night. I didn’t ken if it would work in yer sleep.” He turned his back to her, staring at the wall. The muscles in his back rippled as a shudder took him. “Ye glowed, yellow. When I licked ye, I tasted the essence of sunshine and wild fae magic. Do ye ken who ye are, lass?”

He turned, and she sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes, so human before, were now pure wolf. Tawny, with a vertical black slit. Breathtaking, but oh so dangerous. Her body thrilled even as her heart raced with forbidden desire.

“No,” she shook her head. “No one tells me anything.” Looking at her feet, she nibbled on her lower lip. “Was that true? Was all that true?”

He knelt beside her, his finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. She flinched, but held his gaze, spellbound by him.

“Aye. All of it.” His whisper was a caress against her lips.

Her lashes fluttered. “I’ve hated you for so long. I’m scared to stop.”

Alien eyes searched hers. “Why?”

“Because,” she swallowed hard, “then it means everything I knew was wrong. My grandmother hated me, my aunt lied to me.”

Blunt fingertips feathered across her cheekbones and the touch burned a path straight through her body, filled her legs with heat and longing.

“I haven’t, and I won’t. Yer my mate.”

She closed her eyes. “Please don’t say that.”

His hand left and his warmth went with it. She yearned for more, but didn’t know how to ask, how to plead for something that her brain said was so wrong. It was hard reconciling fact with fiction, knowing how wrong she’d been. It made her sick, fueled an anger that now had no release.

“Did you come to kill me too?” Her voice sounded childlike.

He was standing by the wall again, his eyes hooded. “Aye.”

It was a knife to the heart.

“I would have ripped yer throat out and never looked back. I didn’t know ye, and I dinna care to know ye.”

She ground her molars, picking at her blood stained dress. “But you couldn’t because you found out I was your mate, is that it?” Panting, she let the anger take her, felling her limbs grow sure and strong, her blood pulse with adrenaline.

“Stop trying to find reasons to hate me, Red. I’m nay the one ye must fight.”

She snapped her head up, glaring at him.

He lifted a shaggy black brow. “Going to deny it?”

Nostrils flaring, it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to go to hell. But a small voice she rarely heard, and never heeded, called her bluff. She was still trying to find a reason to hate him.

“How do I let go of something that was my constant companion all these years?”

“One day at a time.” Grabbing the knotted section of fabric wrapped around his slim waist, he tugged, releasing the wrap and standing fully nude.

Goddess he was beautiful. Every part of him was sculpted perfection. Blushing, she glanced away.

“I hear footsteps headed our way, it’s time to go. I do not wish to say goodbye, or be caught. Kermani showed me the dream stone that would open the portal last night. Keep to the shadows.”

White light flared from every pore, burning so bright she had to cover her eyes. When the light died, a big black wolf stared back at her.

Chapter 9

Ewan studied the woods, while alternately glancing at Red’s shadowy form hidden behind a large barrel shaped tree. Since leaving the Eastern realm six hours ago, they’d made their way slowly through a forest unlike any he’d ever known.

Crushing the dream stone beneath his paw, he’d opened the portal, able to leave before any eyes spotted their departure.

The incident last night had left him shaken and disturbed. Who was this woman? His mate? She was violent, ancient, yet in so many ways still young and naïve, untried in the ways of the world.

Tasting the wind, he plucked through the miasma of scent laden breeze. There was gingerbread, peppermint, and even the faintest whiff of molten chocolate.

Violet had stared in wide eyed wonder when they’d arrived at their next destination. Quiet and much more subdued than the day prior, as if she was thinking, sorting through thoughts, more likely wondering about not only him, but herself. Who she was and where she fit in this strange new world.

Again he glanced at her wraith-like form; pride bloomed in his chest seeing her move between the trees. Stealthy and silent, it was obvious to him she’d done this before. Her movements barely disturbed the gum drop leaves scattered upon the cookie crumble forest floor.

The sky was edged in bright washes of lavender and tangerine, a moon—not two planets—rested pregnant in a sky ready to descend into darkness.

Every so often her scent would tickle his nose, there was light, but like Miriam had warned in her letter... there was darkness too. Something malignant and foul that lingered in her blood. Huffing, blowing the stench from his nostrils he padded silently forward.

These forests were a macabre and intentional design. Within these woods lived a witch who preyed on the young. Every tree, every rock was made of sweets. Luring the children in deeper, making them forget the safety they’d left behind.

It would be good to rid Kingdom of the crone, but her death wouldn’t come by him.

Licking his muzzle, he glanced at her yet again. They’d not spoken a word since leaving his room. Ewan knew this form bothered her, saw it in the way she glanced at him when she didn’t think he was looking.

She was afraid, and he wished he could tell her not to be. That in this form he could kill, smell and see better than in his weaker human one. That he could, and would protect her from any and all harm. But the tradeoff for strength was his inability to communicate with her.

The path led straight and unswervingly forward. Many times his stomach grumbled, demanding protein. But to touch anything here was to alert the crone to their presence.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about Red being the one to take her on. Miriam had called her a soul sucker, but hadn’t explained what that was. How to use the ‘gift’. The crone had killed many, Violet had killed one wolf, and had very nearly killed herself in the process.

He swallowed hard.

A thud sounded like a loud pop in his ears and he spun, the hairs on the back of his neck rose as he growled low in his throat. Nothing lived in these woods of horror. There were no land animals, no birds, no gentle hum of insects.

The crone had eaten them all.

He wasn’t sure what he’d find, a hidden trap, some beast let loose. Perhaps Red had begun nibbling on a tree branch. He should have warned her, he hadn’t thought she might not know the land as he did.

But it was none of those things. She was on her knees, head bowed, the red cowl covering her entire face. Calling the unbecoming, Ewan exhaled through the change, breathing through a transformation that pulled at bone and skin.

“Lass?” He trotted up to her and knelt by her side, heart clenching violently when he noticed the fat drops spilling from her cheeks.

“Who am I?” She sobbed, finally looking at him, blue eyes streaked through with red veins, as if she’d been rubbing them for hours. “What am I?”

Lips twisting, he looked over his shoulders, studying the unnatural calm of the woods. The witch wouldn’t come tonight; he’d not smelled her rot and Violet needed him.

Sitting, he crossed his ankles, and studied her. She didn’t blink.

“Who am I?”

Needing to touch her, to comfort her anyway he could, he grabbed her hand. Expecting she’d yank it away and hiss at him, she flinched, but didn’t pull back.

“Yer the Heartsong.”

Gathering a corner of her hem, she dabbed at her eyes. “But what is that? Can you help me? Can you tell me the truth?”

For just a moment he understood why everyone had lied to her, because he was tempted to tell her nonsense himself. Perhaps to spare her feelings, or just because he was a coward and didn’t want to face anymore of her hate. He sighed, and tenderly rubbed her knuckles, amazed she let him.

“I don’t know all of it,” he began, and her eyes grew hopeful, “but yer the result of fairy magic.”

“Grandmother told me I was born of fairy magic, that it made me kind and gentle.... and...” she frowned when he shook his head.

“Jana was a liar, lass.”

She looked away. “I keep forgetting. That.”

She looked so fragile, weak. Her face eternally youthful, it would be so easy to see the package and forget that beneath the large blue eyes and innocent smile lurked madness and death. He’d witnessed it for himself last night.

“Do ye ken who the Ten are?”

“The high fairy council?” she asked, and he nodded.

“Aye. They were too powerful, and Kingdom feared that unless they weakened themselves, one could become bloated with greed and a thirst for power.”

Her breathing grew shallow, slow, as if she feared moving or in any way distracting him from talking.

Continuing to toy with the soft flesh between her thumb and finger, he talked. “They agreed to bleed off the darkness. All of them, even the Black Malvena. The night of the purification ritual, they all gathered beneath a large moon on a grassy plain. But Malvena dinna come.”

“Why?” she whispered.

He looked at the tree, absently noting the rough texture of the gingerbread bark. His stomach groaned, gut twisted in knots with hunger. “Because two days prior, her daughter Rose had died and a seed was born in that dark heart. Reanimation. Bringing the dead back to life.”

“Isn’t that forbidden?”

“Aye. It is. And the only way to do it is to use dark sorcery. But on her own, she is nay strong enough. The other nine dinna bother with her, they proceeded on with the purification and dumped their darkness within the land.”

Her eyes looked sad and haunted. “That’s when I was born. I wasn’t born of light at all. I’m evil.”

He grasped her chin, not allowing her to break eye contact with him. “I killed, maimed, and tortured. I’m a wolf. Not born to be evil, and yet, I was.”

Red glanced away and he sighed.

“Just because yer born a certain way, doesna mean that is who ye are.”

“Maybe it does.” She pulled her hand back and jerked his thumb off her chin. “Why have you brought me to the witch’s woods?”

What should he say? Yer aunt told me to come here so that ye can kill the witch by sucking out her soul? But I swear to ya, yer nay evil, lassie. Bloody hell, he hated the fairies at this moment.

“Tell me the truth, please. I can handle it. I just can’t handle anymore lies.”

Bathed in moonlight, she looked ethereal and lovely. Maybe this was how he’d get her to trust him, truth at all cost, even if the telling of it pained him to do so.

“She called ye a soul sucker.”

Her face scrunched. “A what?”

Ewan shrugged. “I don’t know, Red. That was all she said.”

“So I suck out souls? That’s my magic?”

“One of.”

Grabbing her stomach, she leaned forward. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” Her face looked splotchy and pale. “I only thought I could heal. Jana told me I couldn’t do magic. I never...”

“She lied, about everything. Jana was a wicked, evil woman. Doona try and make sense of anything ye knew before, especially when the truth is so much different.

“Also...” he rubbed her head, tucking her hair behind her face in case she expelled the meager contents of her stomach. “If yer going to puke, try not to puke on the candy. Ye might alert the witch to our presence.”

“What?” She laughed, and instantly the sickly pallor on her face lightened. “Oh gods, this isn’t funny. None of this is.”

Then she laughed even harder, the musical tinkle of her melodic voice made his lips twitch in return. It took a moment for her to get herself under control.

“Thanks, Ewan, I needed that.”

Everything inside him stopped. She’d used his name, but this time it’d sounded hopeful, alive, and the sound of it was almost as good as tender caress. Heat nestled in his gut, filled his loins. He scooted back, hiding the evidence of his desire, knowing she wasn’t ready for him yet. Nudity never bothered him, it simply was the way of the wolf, but he wished for some clothing now, if only to make her comfortable.

He nodded. “Are ye tired, Red?”

She nodded. “A little. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Neither did I.” His lips tightened, trying to forget the reason why. “I don’t smell the witch, we’re safe to stay here tonight, rest while ye can. I’ll keep watch.”

“Okay.” Glancing around, she spotted a thick cluster of gumdrop leaves and settled upon it.

Planting his hands behind his back, he listened to the eerie night. There was nothing save for the gentle breeze, her soft inhalations, and the steady gurgle of the chocolate stream in the distance.

Enough time passed he’d thought her asleep, when she said, “I’m scared.”

Her face was covered in shadow, her red dress looking like a sea of blood upon the ground.

“I know. Me too.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve waited so long to know ye, the thought of losing ye now is more than I can bear.”

She didn’t answer, and he didn’t think she would. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it, but truth at all costs...

“Are ye going to try to kill yerself again, Red?”

A second ticked by, then another, until finally she shook her head. “I’m sorry for that. I didn’t really want to kill myself, I knew I would heal from that wound. I didn’t actually cut my vein, just cut deep enough to make it bleed really bad.” She sighed. “I wanted to hurt you.”

“Don’t do it again,” he gnashed his teeth, letting the pain leak out, letting her hear the depths of his plea.

She didn’t say anything, but their gazes locked and he knew she understood. Her lashes gave the barest flicker before she turned and rolled onto her side. Eventually she fell asleep, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Several hours later he noticed her shivering, drawing her legs up to her body and wrapping the dress tighter around herself.

Calling the unbecoming, he got up and trotted to her side. Scooting in as close to her body as he could, he shared his wolf’s warmth with her. She sighed, her fingers ran through his pelt and his body trembled.

***

“I don’t like this place,” Red grumbled as she knelt by the thick viscous stream. “There’s no water to wash myself with. Nothing but this chocolate I cannot even touch.”

He grinned. “I donna think this place was created for the likes of us.”

She glared at him, her blond brows drawn into a fierce scowl. “Food everywhere and I can’t even have a bite. I hate sweets, and right now I think I could gobble an entire tree.” She stared at a gingerbread elm longingly.

Grabbing her hand, he helped her stand. “Trust me, lass, ye dinna want what the witch has to offer. All is not what it seems.”

She curled her lips, huffing, and dusting sparkling bits of sugar off her luscious rear. “I’m hungry and irritable. Let’s go find this stupid witch, before I forget myself and dive head first into that chocolate river.”

Red stood there, staring down at the stream with a sad, pitiful expression. She’d barely eaten the day before, only picking at her food. Ewan wanted to provide for her, but to do so would mean backtracking, which he could not do.

“C’mon, Red,” he tugged on her finger. “Doona look. Walk away.”

Sighing, she turned her back on the stream and he gave her a swift tilt of his lips. Calling the becoming, Ewan quickly switched forms. They resumed walking, Red within the forest itself. She seemed possessed with a natural instinct to shy away from being easily spotted. Preferring to traipse through the rougher terrain, so as not to be exposed to the elements of the unprotected trail he walked on.

Not that he didn’t want to join her, but he sensed keeping his distance for a while might help her better acclimate to not only her strange surroundings, but also him. Ewan wanted to ravish her, take her, drive into her and roar to the heavens that she was his mate. It wasn’t easy controlling his baser instincts.

Huffing, he attempted to appear nonchalant. Tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, looking like little more than a stupid dog that had wandered down the wrong path. His size was a dead giveaway that he was definitely not a dog, but he hoped the act would keep the witch from immediately going on the offensive once she spotted him.

He knew Red was supposed to be the one to take the witch on, but it was ingrained in him to at least help ease his mate’s way into the battle. Give Red a little time to study the witch before the witch noticed her.

Hopefully.

The closer they got, the faster his heart pumped. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, she was so small and the physical scars of her encounter with the other wolf hadn’t fully vanished yet. Faint and pink, bisecting her belly and breasts, he couldn’t help noticing them the night he’d pressed the stone of veritas (truth) to her chest.

Red’s stare was wide and panicked, her pupils dilated. Even in the shade of the trees, he could see her pulse beating frantically upon her pale throat. Forcing a calm he did not feel, he shook his head and pressed on, giving her no choice but to follow. If he pretended all was well, maybe she’d panic less.

Before long a gingerbread house crested the horizon, a faint plume of gray smoke undulated like a charmed snake through the air.

The home itself was a cornucopia of treats, an enticement to come and gorge and feast upon. It all nauseated him. He’d not be sad to see the crone dead.

Suddenly he realized Red did not pace him. He stopped and spotted her several yards back, gripping the trunk of a gingerbread tree with a white knuckled grip.

She looked at him. “I... I can’t.”

He whined, and jerked his head toward the candy studded home. The chimney, made up of big, fat gumdrops—a bright brilliant red—shimmered like rubies in the sunlight.

“No.” She turned her face into the tree. “I don’t know what to do.”

He huffed, knowing this would not be her first kill.

She scowled. “No doubt you’re thinking about that wolf I killed. Well, it was easy because in my mind it was you. But...” she swallowed hard, “it’s all different now.”

Dropping his shoulders, he sat. Miriam had said it was hate of him that had fueled her power. He knew what he’d have to do. Though the thought pierced his heart with thorns.

“I... don’t know if I hate you anymore. I’m not sure I like you, but...” She blinked. “Ewan?” she cried, finally noticing that he’d begun to barrel toward her. Her eyes were large, round, and filled with terror.

He ran, powerful leg muscles bringing him to her in less than a second. The growl tripping from his throat was the deep throaty inflection of a wolf on the hunt.

Hating to see the fear in her eyes, he willed himself to ignore it. If killing the crone would help her kill Malvena, he didn’t have a choice.

A white ring surrounded her lips and her breathing grew harsh, she pressed her back against the tree. He advanced, predatory. Menacing. Hackles raised and gums exposed. Her breaths were short and choppy.

Then he jumped and she screamed, throwing her hands over her face and glancing to the side.

Ewan sank his teeth into the thick branch beside her head, ripping out a chunk of gingerbread. It settled like rotten meal in his gullet. He knew what these woods were really made of.

A cackle erupted, chilling and foreboding, and then a door slammed open.

“Come here, my pretty,” the ancient voice beguiled, wrapping a breeze like hand around his throat and squeezing hard. The power of the crone, deep and darkly disturbing rushed through his veins, slammed into his skull. He winced against the mind numbing moment of terror.

She was still in the house, but she knew they were here.

Dark clouds gathered high above them.

Her terrible magic was strong. Even he suffered the urge to run away from the cannibal crone.

Red jerked, holding onto her chest. She glanced at the house, then at him. Dangling bits of gingerbread caught in his fur.

“You called her to me?” she accused as he nosed her thigh, urging her forward. She slapped his nose, making him sneeze and lick at the tingling burn. “No,” she gritted out.

Ewan nosed her harder, using his front paw to propel her out of the shelter of the woods and onto the path.

“No,” she hissed.

But he was too strong, he kept bumping her forward, until finally she stumbled onto the cookie path.

The path was empty. The house of candy and cakes stood silent and still. Then he blinked and the old crone appeared, fluidly, like a vapor rolling across water.

She was bent nearly in half, her stooped shoulders large and yet withered by age. The crone stood fifty yards in front of them. Her beaked nose was hooked at the end, warts covered her cheeks and jowls, and the hands she beckoned to them with had thick black claws attached to each fingertip.

Red curled her finger into his nape, tugging so hard on his fur he knew she’d ripped some out. But he didn’t move. Adrenaline seeped from her glands, rushed out her pores and settled on his tongue, thick and bitter.

“Come here, girl.”

There was a quality to the crone’s voice that bespelled the listener. He found himself leaning forward even as his feet tried to turn away.

Black beady eyes turned to him, and the thin mouth curled into a tight little smile. “If it isn’t the Big Bad Wolf,” she laughed, and the sound of it rolled over his body like slithering maggots on rotten meat. “Which means, you...” she glanced back at Red, “are the Heartsong.”

Her fingernails tapped a jarring rhythm against one another.

Violet’s breathing was as rapid as hummingbird’s wings, if she didn’t breathe soon, she’d pass out. Ewan whined, nuzzling her thigh.

She took in a deep breath.

When he turned back, the crone was even closer. She did not walk, or float, she moved as silent as thought.

Sounds, threatening and violent, seeped from his lips.

“You mean nothing to me, mutt,” the crone spat by her bare, arthritic foot. “I’ll make mincemeat of you. But you,” she hooked a finger toward Violet, and something dark and twisted encased Red’s body, lifting her off the ground.

He yelped when her fingers left him.

Violet screamed. Twisting, she tried to reach out to him. Ewan latched onto the edge of her red dress, tugging hard, but succeeded only in shredding off a long piece. He jumped, attempting to latch onto her arm, but a tingling shudder ran like a bolt through him, locking him in place.

“Malvena, told me to call her, bring you to her. But I’m so very hungry, you see.” Her dirt stained green robes brushed the ground as she reached out toward Violet who was now much too close. Cloudy blue eyes filled with an avaricious gleam.

Fear clawed at his brain, Ewan urged his legs to move, to tear the crone limb from limb as he’d done Jana, but he was frozen. Locked in place and unable to do more than howl as the crone dragged Violet closer to her side.

The black miasma circling Violet pulled in tight, forming a thick shadow, so that he could no longer see her. The crone laughed, devilish eyes glinting with glee. Then her hands were inside the shadow and she began to inhale. Every color of the rainbow seeped out from the shadow and the screams of terror turned to moans of horror.

“So much power,” the crone murmured in ecstasy, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Seeing the crone pull Red’s soul out, Ewan finally understood what Miriam meant when she’d called Vi a soul sucker. He needed to tell her. Straining, heaving against the invisible barrier, Ewan prayed as he called the unbecoming. His lungs had barely shifted, before he was roaring. “Breathe her in, Red. Breathe her in.”

He wasn’t sure she’d heard him, he screamed it louder, hoping to penetrate the fear riding her soul.

But then the scream turned different, higher pitched and frantic.

“What are you doing?” It was the crone and the impenetrable fog that’d bathed Red lifted, pulling back inside the emaciated witch.

Vi was pale, skin almost blue, as she reversed positions and latched her hands into the crone’s twisted body.

Violet breathed, inhaling through her mouth, lungs expanding as the crone began to twist and wither. A wave, every color of the rainbow oozed from Red’s body, wrapping them in a kaleidoscopic hug.

A pale red miasma bleached Violet’s blonde hair pink, her skin turned to swirling bands of green, blue and purple, her lips a bright yellow. The Ten—represented by their individual colors—bled out of Violet, making her shimmer with a fiery and icy glow.

Entranced, Ewan watched the dance of death play out. Macabre as the crone’s dark soul poured like black venom from her mouth, and yet the swirling colors... so, so lovely.

The witch’s mottled skin turned to paper, nothing but a husk over bones. Her black soulless eyes blazed fear, as she twitched and shook. Soon even that stopped. The screams reverberated long after the crone was gone.

Violet dropped the husk, the green robes fluttered like a dead leaf to the ground. The barrier holding him back lifted, and Ewan was finally free to run to her side.

But the moment he touched her, he felt the stain of that dark soul. It clung to his flesh like a leech sucking on blood. And when he looked in Red’s eyes, only black stared back at him.

“Ewan,” she sobbed, “something’s wrong with me.” Then she dropped to her knees, and retched, but nothing came out. Sweat peppered her brow, her back, her skin blazed fire.

The colors she’d bled while killing the witch, pulled back inside her body. Once it did, he was able to see how pale she’d become. White as freshly turned snow.

“Red,” he gripped her face.

“It hurts,” she screamed, “oh goddess, it hurts so bad!”

Going stiff in his arms, she seized up. Shaking violently.

Desperate, he glanced around. Where was the antidote? Miriam had said he’d know what to do. But he didn’t know.

Bringing her hand to his lips, he licked her thumb. But there was no wound and nothing to heal. So he licked her neck, still she screamed.

Licking her jaw, her cheek, he finally came to her mouth and the moment his tongue touched her lips a sickly sweet substance clung to him. It was a parasite, gripping on, sliding down his throat, the acidity burning sores into the skin of his mouth.

Startled, he jerked away as the sickness spread through his belly. The screaming had stopped. Whatever he’d just done, it’d worked. Bracing for what was to come, Ewan sealed his lips to hers, slipping his tongue deep into her mouth.

The poison latched on. It was thick and dark and filled his gut. He swallowed more and more, all of it. Gagging, he forced himself to keep it down and out of her. Her nails dug into his cheek, she was kissing him back with passion, twining her tongue with his.

But it was too much. Ewan wanted her. Wanted to taste her, to hold her, but the acid spewed hot in his gut, with one final pull he felt it coming back up. Pushing her away, he ran to a tree and retched.

Black blood spewed from his lips, covered the ground in gore. Up it came, with no end in sight. His body broke out in chills and then burned with fever. It felt like hours, but must have only been minutes when he sank to his knees, spent and panting, feeling as if his soul had been torn from his body.

“Ewan, I...”

Her soft hands were on his shoulders, rubbing gently. Expressing thanks with no words.

The world spun and shifted around him. There was nothing left in his gut, but still he felt the need to give up more. He grabbed his stomach, moaning. Black spots danced in his vision.

“Ewan,” her voice held a frantic edge to it, “you gotta come.” She tugged on his hand. “The land is dying; we gotta get out of here.”

It took everything he had to crack open eyes that felt full of sand and busted vessels.

The woods were melting. The trees ran with blood, branches were now skeletons, their limbs interlocked into a macabre structure. Sightless eye holes peered at him.

The crone’s dirty secret revealed. All the sugar drop trees and gingerbread rocks had been nothing more than past victims spelled to appear as sweets.

If he hadn’t already thrown up, he’d have done so again when the stench of decay assailed his nose. The breeze was alive with the rotten scent of flesh hung out to dry. Toxic waste ran where the chocolate river once flowed.

“Please, Ewan, come on.” She tugged on him, snapping him from his stupor.

“We must hurry,” he said, voice rough and scratchy. Shaking his head, attempting to right his vision, he called the becoming to him. The shift had him howling, his body too weak to handle the change.

But her tiny hands, and soft pleas of encouragement, spurred him on, drove him to ignore the desperate ache filling his limbs. They ran, trying not to slip on the thick sludge beneath them. Violet cried as her feet gave out beneath her. She landed on her butt in a thick pile of something foul and sticky.

Dizzy, vision blurring with spots, Ewan nudged her to sit on his back.

“Are you sure?” she whimpered, biting her lip.

He grunted, barely able to hold his head up. She didn’t hesitate again, quickly straddling him.

Adrenaline was the only thing that kept him running.

Chapter 10

She shivered, hugging her arms tight to her body, wondering if she’d ever be able to sleep again. All that blood and gore. The knowledge of where it had all come from... she swallowed the bile trying to work its way up her throat.

Night kept their secrets, held them within her dark arms, making it impossible for Violet to see too far beyond their camp.

Ewan’s back was to her, his chest heaved hard and though he’d feared starting a fire, the moon was bright enough that she could see the gray pallor tinting his skin. She sighed.

“Are ye okay?” His deep voice was a caress, and her lashes fluttered like moth’s wings against her cheekbones.

“I should be asking you that,” she said with a half snort. He was the one that’d risked his neck to save them, and yet he still asked after her welfare.

Finally he rolled over, his liquid gold eyes sliding slowly along the length of her body. She shivered again, but this time it had nothing to do with the chill nip in the air. She bit her bottom lip as her lower stomach dipped with a sudden rush of nerves.

“Ye are my mate, Red. I’ll always worry after ye. Now are ye okay?”

A lump lodged in her throat, the kindness in his words, the deep timbre of his voice, it did something to her. Confused her more, made her care. It was hard to speak, so she nodded instead.

His eyes closed and a look of relief swept over his patrician features, making him seem softer, more approachable, and a million times more sexy. Her fingers twitched as a lock of midnight black hair flipped over his left eye.

“Good,” he smiled and her heart dropped. “Get some rest when ye can take it, Red. I doona think we’ll have too many more nights like these soon.”

“Are we close then?” There was a sort of quiet detachment in her question, maybe she should have felt fear. Any sane person probably would, but so much of this felt surreal. It’s not that Violet hadn’t known about the wonders of this world, she’d lived here once, long ago. But to see the stories of the mortal world open up before her eyes, to battle the cannibal crone and walk through a forest made of literal candy... sometimes it was hard to believe that all this wasn’t a dream.

“Aye, we’re close.” He nodded, and then giving her a grim smile, stood. “My bones ache this night, I must turn to wolf. It helps me heal properly, shake me if ye need me.”

She watched as his magnificent body became engulfed in a bright flare of white light and suffered a momentary pang of regret. He was much nicer to look at in human form, and the wolf still disconcerted her.

The large black beast padded out of the light, gave her one last lingering look, settled down close enough to her that she could feel the waves of his body heat, and let out a long puff of air. Violet studied him in the soft moonlight. He must have felt worse than he’d let on, within seconds he was sleeping, but somehow she sensed should another predator approach he’d snap awake. His muzzle was long and lean, the fur dense and so black it blended in with the shadows all around.

He’d saved her, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

A rushing tide of blood and bits had nearly taken them; the crone’s forest had tried to consume them just as its mistress had consumed so many others. The moment they’d passed the witch’s boundary, he’d collapsed. So still, she’d feared he’d died. Violet had sat with him, not knowing how long he’d remain that way. He’d come to an hour later, dazed but not quite so miserable.

He’d shifted and her heart had flipped. Something was happening to her. Something scary; but not altogether displeasing. He was gorgeous to look at; it was hard to pretend he wasn’t anymore. Her hate hadn’t been able to blind her to his charms, and now... well, now things were different.

Ewan had led her to a thicket of bushes, growling and fumbling in the dirt for thirty or so minutes, before finding what he’d sought. Another dream stone. He’d pressed his palm against the stone and the blue portal had opened wide for them.

Here they were now, sitting in another grove. This one was slightly different. The trees were full of fruit and she’d nearly sobbed with joy. Didn’t matter that it was an apple, nothing had ever tasted sweeter.

They’d gorged until they could barely breathe, but beyond the chat of seconds ago, neither had talked. Which should have suited her fine; except now she wanted to talk to him. Wanted to know everything he knew about her past.

His past.

Glancing at her clothes, she frowned. She was still covered in slaughter, her dress beyond ruined. Where were they headed now? To another monster, something even more insidious than the crone?

Violet shuddered, remembering the slithering feeling of that dark soul sliding down her throat. The wash of pain that’d blinded her to everything, and then the sweet, sweet lips consuming the evil within.

She brushed her fingertips against her lips and closed her eyes, his soft steady breaths a lullaby in her ear. Leaning against the tree she wiggled her toes, reveling in the warmth of his fur brushing against them.

An owl hooted and she shivered. Growing up, she’d led a sheltered life. Never able to stray farther than grandma’s territory; the apple trees the farthest she’d ever dared to go. But she’d known in her heart that there was more to Kingdom then the small valley she’d called home.

After much pleading and begging, grandmother had finally bought her maps, many of them. She’d stayed up into the wee hours of the night, reading and memorizing each wiggle and line by candlelight.

She’d been happy and content, but there were times she’d wished she could have seen them for herself. As a child she’d drooled at the thought of a forest made of cookies, but the reality was so much different than her childhood fantasies. The thrill of seeing a world she’d never thought to return to was still there, but tempered now with the knowledge that there was bad in this world.

Violet rolled her eyes, snorting. “You’re bad too,” she whispered.

What she’d done to the crone. The power that’d filled her body, spread through her like a dark cancer, sweeping aside reason or kindness. In its place had been something all-consuming and vile and she’d gloried in it.

The rush of all that power made her heady and wanton, desperate for more and ashamed of it all.

Until the pain.

But then Ewan had kissed her, and that kiss swept the evil aside, like a gentle swell lapping the beach. And she could breathe. Think.

Her head had swum with visions of a full moon, running and sweating, and howling. It’d been freedom, wild and untamed. And she’d wanted more.

Violet sighed, heart twisting painfully in her chest as she glanced at his still form. She should be sleeping, just like him. But her brain wouldn’t stop working. A side of her, smaller and smaller every day, still thought it was wrong not to hate him.

When he’d pushed her out onto the path, forced her to confront the crone, it’d flared to life. But then she’d seen him desperate to get at her, and had known he was trying to help.

But why?

Did he really think he was her mate?

She touched his bite mark, feeling nothing. Her flesh was smooth. Violet licked her lips. Was she his mate?

Was that why she’d obsessed about the big black wolf for so long? Not because she wanted to kill him, but because she needed him?

She shook her head, not wanting to think about any of that right now. It was too much to process. She wished he would have told her where they were headed to next.

Glancing up at the trees above, she tried to remember the landscape. Recall the maps she’d learned by heart so long ago. These woods looked... familiar.

Well, not so much these, but the ones to the left. The forest she and Ewan camped within seemed mundane, but not a stone’s throw from where they sat was a copse full of twisted, thick bellied trunks. Limbs splayed out like crooked fingers, and the silver mist encasing those woods... something about them teased the edge of her consciousness.

But the thought was fleeting, the faint memory indecipherable. Huffing, she stood and dusted her butt off. She needed to stretch and take care of some business.

Ewan growled, yellow eyes piercing hers. A question blazed in their depths.

“I need to relieve myself,” she admitted, cheeks blazing. “I thought you were asleep.”

He shook his furry head.

“I won’t take long.” She pressed her lips together, humiliated beyond belief.

He sighed, and laid his head back down.

Violet moved silently, aware of her surroundings, but moving far enough away that he’d not hear.

Finally satisfied, she did her business and wondered when she’d stopped thinking of him as the big bad wolf.

Moonlight bathed everything in a pale blue glow. She’d not realized she’d gone so far, until she noticed the silver fog circling her legs.

“Little Red Riding Hood.”

The cultured voice wrapped itself around her throat, making her feel like she suddenly couldn’t take a breath. She didn’t feel like dealing with another monster right now, especially not without Ewan by her side. She turned, and started trotting back to their campsite.

“I suppose I should be offended at your running off so soon.”

Far from sounding threatening, the voice was inquisitive, which made her curious enough to stop and glance back. This time a face materialized with the voice. A floating orange head gazed at her, the cat’s sickle shaped smile revealed wicked long fangs.

She smiled, delighted. “I know who you are.”

He lifted a brow, and then the rest of his body materialized. A large fluffy tail whipped gracefully back and forth. “Oh, do tell. I often forget.”

“You’re the Cheshire Cat.”

Large brown eyes widened and then he nodded. “Ah yes, indeed I am.”

The fog was thickest where he floated. His fur was so silky looking, so soft. She had a strange urge to pet him, but curled her fingers by her side instead.

“That must mean these are the Hatter’s woods.”

“A biscuit for the lady,” he smiled, and licked his paw.

His coat of fur gleamed like somebody had taken a torch and infused the mesmerizing colors within it.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured, and then jerked, wishing she hadn’t said that.

His eyes rolled down his nose, the whole time studying the length of her. “I wish I could say the same for you. Who did you eat tonight, Heartsong? You made quite a mess.”

She curled her nose; the description wasn’t that far off. “The old crone.”

“Oh my.” He seemed surprised, eyes popping back in their sockets. “No more kiddies for breakfast, eh? How terribly mundane.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say.”

He shrugged; his body hovered between two trees, never coming closer. She nibbled her lip, obsessed beyond reason with feeling the texture of his fur.

“You want to pet me.” It wasn’t a question.

Hesitantly, she nodded. “I’ve never seen fur like yours.”

He kept licking himself, fluffing the fur higher, drawing her eye like a dragon’s to a gem. “You can you know. Just come... closer.”

“Why don’t you come here?”

He inhaled deeply. “Do you see the fog?” He nodded. “That is the demarcation point between my world, and that one.” He curled his nose, long whiskers twitching.

“What do you mean, that one?”

“The one you stand in. Of course.”

She frowned, looking around. The trees on this side did seem more normal than the behemoth’s lurking on his side. “Have you ever come on this side?”

“How do you think I found my way in here? I came from that goddess awful place.”

A shudder rippled across his shoulders, down his spine and through his legs. It was a strange sight.

She lifted a brow. “Which means it won’t kill you.”

“Mmm. Debatable. It might as well, because you see, my dear girl, if I step one itty bitty paw beyond this boundary I’ll become normal,” he drawled, disgust dripping from his tongue.

Laughing, she said, “You make it sound like a fate worse than death.”

“Isn’t it?”

She stopped laughing, glancing down at her feet. “I don’t think normal is all that bad. Sometimes, I wonder what it feels like.”

“Red?” he said, a question in his voice.

Violet frowned. “Why does everyone call me that?”

He hovered like a ghost between thick branches. “What would you like me to call you? Blue?”

“Neither. My name is Violet.”

He tapped his jaw. “I prefer Red. Sounds more dangerous,” he purred, the ‘r’ rolling hard off his tongue.

When she looked back at him, his fur almost seemed to triple in size. What was it about his fur? Ewan’s didn’t do that. Then again, she didn’t really want to pet Ewan. Well, not his wolfy side anyway.

She licked her lips. “I think I would like to pet you, Cat.”

He dropped to the ground and swished his tail. “Because I like you, girl. I’ll let you do what few can. Come here.”

She hesitated and he purred, that kittenish sound luring her in like a siren’s song. The fog felt cold against her skin. She was right at the edge of the Hatter’s woods, not too far in that she couldn’t turn back in case this was a trap of some sort.

Her heart sped. Maybe she shouldn’t do this.

“Now sit,” he commanded.

His fur rippled and it was too hard to ignore the lure of it any longer. She sat, and the moment she did, he crawled in her lap. His big furry head rubbed along her chin. Sighing, she tickled him behind the ear and scratched under his belly.

“I’d forgotten how wonderful that feels,” he purred, and she smiled.

“You’re so soft. Like cashmere.”

In the distance, birds cawed.

Violet petted and petted, losing track of time, until shadows began to dance between trees. At first she thought it was nothing, but when she turned back to pet him, she caught a dash of black out of the corner of her eye.

“Cat,” she demanded, stilling instantly, “what is...”

The words died as the shadows took form. They were large, with big bellies, and covered in black and grey stripes. Black feathers adhered to their arms, and a long curved beak covered their nose and mouth.

“You’ve tricked me,” her voice broke.

“And this is my cue,” Cheshire said with a glint in his feral eyes, and then became nothing but a vapor. “Thanks for the rub down, Red,” his ghostly whisper mocked her.

Her eyes widened in horror as the beings moved in.

“Stay back,” she shot to her feet, “I can hurt you.”

The heads cocked in unison.

“Not if you can’t see us.” The voice came out a tinny echo behind the mask.

But she didn’t have a clue who’d spoken, and with the shock of seeing bird men advancing, came a complete lapse of reason. She stood frozen, a split moment of indecision that would cost her dearly.

“What?” Her pulse stuttered.

The bodies moved so fast they were little more than a blur. Finally, she remembered to move. She twirled on her feet, and started running back to the safety of her woods. “Ewan,” she cried. “Help.”

A black hood slid over her face. She screamed, clawing to get it off.

“Now sleep,” the voice commanded and something tickled her nose.

She remembered no more.

Chapter 11

Ewan shot to his feet. He’d fallen asleep, he hadn’t meant to. But purging the crone’s soul from his body had seemed to drain his own life essence. He ran, pushing his limbs as hard as they’d go. Which wasn’t hard, or fast enough. Running on jellied legs, he tried to ignore the fiery burn pounding away at his skull. Body be damned, all that was important was finding her.

His heart clenched when he picked up her fear laden scent.

And that of the cat.

Howling, he followed. She was deep in the Hatter’s territory, but there were others with her. Birds.

Black feathers were scatted all around. And for a moment he feared the worst. Malvena’s spies had somehow found her.

But there were so many feathers. Too many. Birds didn’t molt for no reason. Had there been a struggle and she’d pulled some out? But one glance at the dirt spoke volumes. Red had barely turned to run before whatever had found her caught her.

Not only that, he did not smell Malvena anywhere. There was no stench of death, or waste of birds.

But that didn’t mean she was safe. Something had taken her.

Dizzy with fear, he prayed he’d make it to her in time. Why hadn’t he followed her? He should have followed her. She didn’t know this land. He did, he knew how treacherous—this place most of all—could be.

Feathers were scattered everywhere, dropping off like someone had overturned a bucketful of them. Not only that, the kidnappers weren’t taking her north toward Malvena’s keep, they were heading in the direction of the Mad Hatter’s garden.

It took a moment for the realization to dawn on him that even the trees did not attack. They sat, like great big giant bulwarks; almost appearing to be as benign as he knew they were not. No roots came up out of the ground to trip him, no branches made a grab for him. Even sappy maws remained closed.

This was not right. The land was only silent like this when...

His ears twitched when the crunching sound of a snapping twig reverberated through the desolate woods.

“Hello, Ewan,” the sweet voice almost seemed to smile. “The girl is with us. Come quickly.”

Turning, he saw Alice.

She wore a black silk dress that draped to her feet, the bodice tight on her waist; clusters of roses wove a trail from her chest down the left side of her body. Black paint, in a filigree pattern, framed her right eye. Flushed and rosy, she looked healthy and happy.

Alice gestured quickly. “Hurry, we spotted crows this morning.”

Heart regaining its more normal rhythm, he nodded, and trotted toward her. She patted his nose when he neared, kneeling by his side, she grabbed his shaggy head and brought his ear to her mouth.

“Spies have been about these past two nights...”

As she spoke, she continued to stroke the length of his side. To the outside, it would appear like a woman petting her dog. Questions buzzed through his head. Why the subterfuge? How had the crows known? Where exactly was Red?

“Please accept our apologies for taking Violet the way we did. We meant no harm.” Planting a quick kiss on the tip of his nose, she nodded. “Follow me, and try not to look so... wolf like.”

Her pink lips twitched and he huffed.

Alice led him on a dizzying trail. She walked around trees, below trees, and even through them. Waving her hand in semi-circular motions as she mumbled nonsensical words, it was amazing to witness the land respond to her as it did.

He growled when he noticed the same purple polka dotted tree for the third time. Were they actually going anywhere?

She winked, waved her hand again, and then dropped to her knees. In a clearing lay a teapot, hidden by thick grass. Lifting the lid, she whispered inside the ceramic pot, “the cake please.”

Suddenly a large slice of cake slid through the narrow opening. With a triumphant smile, she twirled and held out the slice to him. The cake itself was a deep yellow, while the frosting was the whitest, frothiest foam he’d ever seen.

After the crone’s forest, the sight of it turned his stomach a little. He couldn’t help but remember what her cakes had been made out of.

Brown eyes twinkling, she said, “Take a bite. A small one. Too much will make you cease to appear.”

He’d only met Alice once before, she’d been beautiful, of course. But shy and withdrawn, he wondered if she realized how like the Hatter she seemed now. Speaking in his nonsensical way, dressing like him.

Would Violet be like that with him someday?

Careful not to take too large a bite, he barely tore a piece off the cake and instantly wanted to spit the bitter thing out. She held his jaw closed, and nodded.

“It’s worse than awful, but it’s the only way. Have you swallowed it?”

The offensive piece of carrion tasting waste rested on his tongue, and it was all he could do to choke it down, gagging and panting once it settled in his gut.

“Good.” She tore a piece off for herself. “Upsy daisy now.” She popped it in and grimaced. “Ugh, that’s awful.”

A wave of vertigo slammed into him and he winced, squeezing his eyes shut as the world around them became a giant’s paradise. Ewan growled.

“I know, it’s dreadful being so small. But it will only last for a while.”

He looked back at the garden. It was lit, tables out and festooned with every sort of tea food imaginable.

Alice shook her head, her black hair fanning out like a blade behind thin shoulders. “No tea this time, Ewan. You’re coming to our home. It’s safer.” She eyed him. “You will need to unbecome. I’ll not be taking you through the world’s my Hatter took me through when I first arrived, but the trip can be rather jarring. You’ll need to hang on to my hand.”

Calling the light, it took only moments for him to stand before her, and then to frown when her lips quirked and she quickly glanced away.

Alice cleared her throat. “I always forget it’s not like the movies.”

He glanced down at himself.

Smiling, she said, “As lovely as you look, you really should get dressed. I don’t think Hatter would like it too much if you weren’t clothed. He tends to go a little batty about those sorts of things when I’m around.”

Ewan rolled his eyes. “Lass, I canna make clothes from air.”

She looked at him, and lifted her brows. “Well lucky for you, I can.” Snapping her fingers, he was suddenly clothed in tight jeans and a plain white shirt.

Alice laughed. “Hmm... Maybe not much better.”

“I’m clothed, am I no? What’s wrong now?” he tried, but couldn’t get the irritation from his voice.

“Absolutely nothing. Now take my hand.” She reached for him.

The moment their hands interlocked, she stepped through the tilted tea pot and a wave of vertigo slammed into him, making him lose his bearings. Everything was pitch black, and save for the tiny hand in his, he felt anchorless. An overwhelming desire to flail and find some sort of footing overcame him, but he clamped down on it, knowing this blackness to be merely illusion; though the knowledge didn’t keep the sweat from beading on his forehead.

“I know this is kind of freaky. Just a little bit longer.”

Her soft voice helped to calm the animal’s natural instinct in him. He was not alone in this nothingness.

“Where’s Red?” He finally asked.

“With Hatter.”

He snarled and a small fist punched his arm.

“Not that Violet’s not beautiful, but he’s got me, Ewan. She’s perfectly safe.”

“So long as it’s understood she belongs to me and me alone.”

“Yes, yes,” her voice was mollifying, “she’s all yours. But just so you know, the caveman act really doesn’t work for girls anymore. Just sayin’.”

“Caveman?”

He was unprepared for the jarring transition from darkness to light and blinked back tears as a bright shaft of sunlight suddenly pierced his eyes, momentarily blinding him. A meadow spread out for miles in every direction. A placid pond sat next to a small thatched roof cottage. Dropping his hand, Alice gathered her skirts and started jogging toward the home. He kept pace beside her.

“It all looks so normal,” he muttered. “I expected madness.”

She looked at him, a fond smile on her lips. “Oh, it is, usually. But I told Hatter that we needed to make her as comfortable as possible. I wasn’t too sure what she’d think of my fifty foot toad, so he made it all conform.”

Ewan wasn’t certain she was entirely kidding.

The bright red door was thrown open and Hatter—dressed in his customary suit brimming with pocket watches—stepped out.

Alice cried, and he smiled. Then she was in his arms and he was bending her over, giving her a passionate kiss, and suddenly Ewan knew Violet had been very safe. It was obvious, even to the deaf and blind, the passion that brewed between the two.

“I worried,” Hatter whispered against Alice’s lips after a while. “Did you have any trouble?”

She nuzzled his neck as he helped her stand, readjusting her skirts.

“No, but I think we gave Ewan a fright.”

Dark eyes zeroed in on him. “Wolf,” Hatter extended his free hand, the other was still firmly clamped around Alice’s waist. “Forgive us for the necessity of it, but Malvena’s spies are everywhere.”

He nodded. “She explained. Was Red harmed at all?”

Hatter flashed bright white teeth. “No, though I think Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum gave her a terrible fright. She was reluctant to enjoy one of my wife’s cupcakes, or even talk for that matter.”

Alice touched the tip of his nose. “I think the poor thing needs a hot meal before a cupcake, Hatter. Ewan?” She glanced at him and gestured toward the door. “She’s inside.”

“Thank ye.” He stepped in, taking a brief moment to adjust his eyes to the dim lighting within.

“Ewan?”

Her melodic voice made him weak in the knees and he wondered if she could hear the stutter of his heart.

“Red?”

Then she was in his arms, flinging herself into his body the way Alice had into her Hatter’s. A wave of sunshine and wild magic engulfed him, and heat spiraled through his veins. She felt so good, so small, and perfect, and safe. Rubbing her back, he was reluctant to ever let her go.

She pressed her cheek against his chest, small fingers curling into the back of his shirt.

“I’m so sorry. I got tricked by that awful cat—”

“Cheshire?” His deep voice rumbled.

She shuddered. “Yes, he looked so fluffy and let me pet him—”

“He let ye pet him?” Ewan pulled back, chuckling. “The cat? That vile rodent? He never lets anyone pet him.”

“He tricked me.”

He kissed the pulse at her temple, wishing he could do so much more. Wishing he could taste her as passionately as Hatter had Alice. “It was a ruse Hatter and Alice orchestrated.”

Blue eyes filled with confusion. “Why?”

“Because,” Hatter’s deep voice answered behind them, “Malvena’s crows were spotted within these woods not two nights ago. We’ve much to discuss.”

Alice kissed his cheek. “But not before dinner.” She glanced at Violet. “And a bath. Jeez, Ewan... what in the world did you do to the poor thing?”

“Don’t ask,” he grumbled.

Red winced. “Can I take my bath alone?”

Alice laughed. “Of course. Did you think I was going to bathe you? Come on.”

Violet turned to follow, and then stopping, took a deep breath and quickly pecked his whisker roughened cheek.

“I’m glad to see you,” she whispered, and he swore the ground shifted beneath his feet.

Chapter 12

“So you’re Alice, huh?” Violet asked, resting her hip against the mushroom cap shaped counter.

“That’s what they say.” Alice grinned, pulling a steaming foil wrapped pan from out the oven.

The aroma of roasted beef and vegetables made Violet drool.

Alice wiped her hands on her teapot apron and then lifted a corner of the foil, a thick jet of white steam escaped, tempting Violet to peek inside and sniff at it like a dog. Or a wolf. Like a big black one.

She shook her head.

“Thanks for my clothes.” She plucked at her red knit sweater. “Though you know, you didn’t need to get me red. It’s not my favorite color or anything.”

Alice pulled a silver thermometer out of the hunk of meat and covered the pan again. Crossing her arms, she leaned beside Violet. Alice had changed out of the dress Violet had first seen her in. She was now wearing a short blue dress with thigh high striped socks.

She was short and petite, not to mention Asian. So unlike the Alice of legend.

“I guess I shouldn’t rely on fairy tales for the truth then,” Alice chuckled. “You do know your story, right?”

Violet rolled her eyes, plucking at a bit of fuzz on her shirt. “You mean the one where Ewan ate my grandmother. Yes, I’m familiar.”

Alice patted her arm. “He didn’t really. Did he?”

Lifting a spatula off the counter, Violet flicked it through air. “Depends on how you look at it.” She sighed, wanting to change the subject. “I thought you were supposed to be, you know, white. Blond hair and stuff. You look different than your story too.”

Alice shrugged. “Well you’re supposed to like red.”

Grinning, Violet said, “Touché.”

Picking up a piping bag full of fluffy white cream, Alice quickly piped it onto cooled chocolate cupcakes, topping each one with a chocolate covered cherry.

“It’s Hatter’s favorite,” Alice murmured, tip of her pink tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth as she worked.

Fascinated, Violet watched as Alice swirled a perfect amount with artistic precision on each cake.

“He’s really nice you know.”

Violet’s brows drew together. “Who? The Hatter?”

He’d sat looking at her on the couch, his dark gaze seeming to bore into her soul. She shuddered, that look had burned with a strange amber glow. Madness and sanity trapped within that hard gaze. Violet had no idea how he’d ever managed to hook such a sane person like Alice.

“No. Ewan.” Alice sat her empty bag down on the counter and picked up a cupcake. “I always have to taste the first one. Thank goodness I don’t seem to get fat in Wonderland.” She laughed.

Violet took the portion Alice offered her. “I’m not too sure he’d mind. He seems infatuated with you.”

Alice’s dark brown eyes sparkled. “I know. Feeling is so mutual. And what about you?”

Violet squirmed, shoving the cake in her mouth to prevent having to talk or do girl time. She wasn’t sure she was good at that. She’d only ever had Aunt Mir for the past few hundred years, and they weren’t exactly chat buddies.

Notes of passion fruit and salty sweet rock crystals burst on her tongue. “Oh wow,” Violet moaned, “so good.”

Alice smiled. “Same reaction Hatter has. But you haven’t answered my question. I can tell you’re not totally comfortable with Ewan. Why?”

“I kissed his cheek,” Violet said, attempting to defend her position.

Snorting, Alice popped a piece of cake in her mouth. “Yeah, and I kiss the March Rabbit’s cheek, doesn’t mean I wanna date him.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Violet grumbled, yet eagerly accepted another portion of cake.

“Try me.”

Licking at the frosting on her fingertip, Violet shrugged. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to believe something whole heartedly, only to find out you were dead wrong? But not only that, I developed a hatred for him that’s so deep, I’m just not sure it’s ever possible to truly let it go, even though I know it’s no longer justified.”

“Hmm. That sucks.” Alice’s lips twisted. “Danika didn’t tell us much of the story. But I do know that what Ewan did that night was in defense of you.”

Violet nibbled on the cake. Hard to stay angry when it tasted so good. “Yeah, but that’s just the thing. I didn’t know that. I was led to believe that my version of history was true. For over five hundred years I’ve lived with one goal in mind. Return to Kingdom so I could find him and kill him, except...”

“Except?” Alice lifted a perfectly sculpted brow.

Pursing her lips, a million answers flitted through her head. Except he was so nice. Except he kept doing things to protect her. Kept giving her looks that made her toes curl and her blood boil. That all she could think about was wanting to kiss him, even though at times an irrational hatred bubbled up and made her brain scream that it was wrong. That she should gut him like the stinky, filthy beast he was.

Instead she said, “He treats me like his property. Always growling at me and telling others I belong to him,” she mimicked his thick burr. “It’s annoying.”

Laughing, Alice nodded. “I can see how that could be. But it’s part and parcel of the wolf nature. And I hate to break it to you, Violet, but when one of the bad five sets their eyes on you; it’s pretty much a done deal.”

“Bad five?”

Alice flicked her wrist. “Another story for another time. Here’s the deal in a nutshell. You’re it for him. He’ll never leave you, and I think a part of you already knows that. Maybe even thrills at the thought.”

Even now her stomach felt like it was bottoming out; her thighs shook at the thought of feeling that naked flesh. Hearing him croon her name when in the middle of their passion. Of peppering the scar on his face with hundreds of kisses, discovering why her body ached with incredibe pleasure at the thought of his touch.

“Ugh, but how can he love me? We barely know each other.”

Alice shrugged one shoulder. “I’m sure he doesn’t love you yet. How could he?”

Violet’s heart sank. It shouldn’t matter. Hearing it said should only reinforce how stupid this whole thing was, but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t bother her.

“It’s all animal with him. Right now its pheromones, your scent, your look, everything. It all adds up to his perfect mate.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No.” Alice shook her head. “Maybe to you, because you don’t understand it. And I barely do, but Hatter told me there were years when he wasn’t sure Ewan would make it. It’s a physical wound for a wolf not to have his mate once he’s claimed her.”

“What do you mean?” Violet felt like she was listening to Alice through a long tunnel, her heart pounding so hard as she tried to imagine what it’d been like for him.

“That’s for him to share.” She smiled. “You know I ran out on Hatter.” Alice’s smile grew sad, bitter. “I thought he didn’t want me and I left. I didn’t fight. Maybe I was too scared.”

“But you guys seem so happy.”

“Now. But then, I couldn’t see beyond my hurt. My beliefs. It almost cost me everything. My life and my happiness. I love him, Violet, with every fiber of my being. These aren’t the easiest guys to fall in love with, but I promise, if you let yourself, you’ll never be happier.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

Violet jumped at the sound of Hatter’s deep drawl. He’d poked his head inside the door, sniffing appreciatively. “Did you make the bread?” he asked.

Every time Alice looked at Hatter her entire countenance seemed to glow. “Why don’t you turn your back and see.”

Violet frowned when she glanced at the table in the dining area. There wasn’t any bread on it. As confused as Violet was by the cryptic reply, Hatter was not. They shared a secret smile, a wordless exchange that transcended mere food.

“Minx,” Hatter finally drawled. “Leonard grows impatient for his sustenance. Hurry it up, woman,” he growled.

“You tell that rat, to be patient and wait,” Alice huffed, but hopped off the counter and grabbed the pan. “Bring the salad, Violet,” she called over her back.

She stood there for a moment, cold salad bowl in her hand. They had something and she desperately wanted it.

Was it really as simple as letting go?

Chapter 13

Danika and Miriam landed on the fattest branch the old oak tree had to offer and settled in, awaiting their midnight visitor.

So far the journey had been uneventful. Actually, boring would be a better descriptor. Danika wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it certainly hadn’t been this. Miriam barely talked to her, hardly even looked at her. They’d shrunk themselves down to the size of a gnat, there’d be very little that could detect them in this form.

The moment they’d stepped through the portal she’d expected doom, winged monsters bearing down on them. Maybe even Galeta’s fat rump making a showing. But nothing.

“I hope Violet and Ewan are doing well,” she said, glancing from the corner of her eye at her friend.

Miriam stood as a sentinel, one arm wrapped around a thin vine, peering like a barnyard owl into the thick gloom below them. “Mmm,” she nodded.

“Mir!” Danika stomped her foot. “Now really, this is enough. I’m your friend. You must talk with me.”

Eyes covered in bright red veins turned to stare at her. Exhaustion leaked from every crevice of her body, wrinkles marred skin in a permanent patchwork of lines and age.

“Dani, it’s better if ye doona ken too much—”

“Blast it all, you stubborn old fool. I’m your friend.” She gripped bony shoulders and gave them a gentle shake. “What’s happened to you, sister? How did you age so quickly? You look beyond your years.”

Miriam pinched the bridge of her sharp, thin nose. “It wasn’t easy, Dani. Living in that world. The constant use of magic to keep the humans away, making our home exist on fairy time. All of that’s taken a toll. I’m tired. Worn out and...” she paused, mouth open as if she wanted to say something, but then finally shook her head and sighed. “None of which is your fault.”

She patted Danika’s arm, giving her a tight lipped smile. Gray frizz surrounded her head like a sort of aged halo. Even her moth speckled wings beat slowly, as if Miriam hadn’t much strength for more.

“I’m worried about you.” Danika laced her fingers through Miriam’s. “You don’t look well, my friend. Not at all. Fairy should have restored your youth, and yet you look little better than a hag.”

Miriam snorted, some of the old light entering her eyes. “Ye’ve still a sharp tongue about ye, Dani, I’ll give ye that.”

The glen glowed silvery in the moonlight. A scuttle of tiny feet scampered up their tree, a bushy red tail disappearing quickly within a hole in the wood. The night was rich with the scent of hyacinth and lavender. Dark petaled roses opened their blooms, knowing the fairies were about and seeking a morsel of dust.

Miriam gently squeezed Dani’s hand one final time before letting go. “I loved these woods. This place.” Joy laced the longing in her words.

“You’re back now. We can fly through here anytime we want.”

She laughed. “That is until Galeta finds us. She will ye know.”

Danika twisted her lips. “Did you see that in a vision?”

“Aye.” Miriam nodded, not an ounce of fear in the word.

“Who’s coming to meet us?” Danika asked, glancing over Miriam’s shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of their mystery guest.

“A friend that made me a promise long ago.”

The wind picked up then, cool and sweet against Danika’s gossamer wings. She inhaled, invigorated by the night. There was always something so magical about the woods at night.

“I love this spot,” Miriam said again, this time there was a tremble of tears in her statement.

“You’ve already said that, dear.” Danika frowned.

“Did I?” Miriam’s eyes shone bright lavender. “I forgot.”

Something was wrong. Very wrong, and it irked Danika that she couldn’t figure it out. Miriam wasn’t herself. But then again, she’d not been around her friend for far too long. Perhaps this was Miriam now. Distant. Silent. She was The Shunned, and perhaps it was more than just a title now. Perhaps her friend believed that’s who she really was—an outcast and pariah within fairy.

Miriam pointed below. “We were born just there, do you remember, Dani?”

A small field of red roses waved in the gentle breeze. Most were snoring, though one was drooping, its petal dragging along the ground. Woeful eyes blinked at its sad petals.

“The moon was full and fairy song rang throughout. Aye,” Danika nodded, a fond smile on her face, “I remember.”

Miriam tucked a strand of hair behind her slightly upturned ear. “This is a good place. I could never be sad here, Dani.” She looked at Danika. “I think I should like to stay here forever, beside the roses.”

Danika gazed at her friend, trying desperately not to read more into the words, but her heart twisted in her chest with fear. “We’re not going to die, Mir. None of us. We will defeat, Malvena.”

“Though she be but little, she is fierce!” A bell like voice said, reciting one of Danika’s favorite lines from Shakespeare’s play.

Danika twirled, recognizing the voice instantly. Esmeralda stood on the limb they were on, cloaked in shadow; green vines slithered like a snake down the tree’s bark.

Miriam nodded and smiled. “Hello, dear friend.”

Ese stepped into the moonlight, ivy undulated upon her body. Her thick mane of chestnut colored hair flowed down to her waist. She was a vision of fae loveliness, save for the solid blacks of her eyes.

Miriam rushed up to her, moving faster than Danika had seen in days.

“I did as you asked, Miriam. I led Galeta on a goose chase, but I’m afraid...” She gathered her hands together, clasping her fingers tight in front of her.

“It is okay, this was good enough. I know what I must do.”

“What?” Danika asked, though she really wanted to screech. She was so tired of being left in the dark, of knowing her best friend made plans without her knowledge. Why all the secrecy?

Ese glanced at Danika. “You should not have brought her, Mir.”

“How dare you?” Danika puffed out her chest, ignoring the desperate desire to grab her wand and turn Ese into a green toad. “She is my friend. Not yours. And I will support—”

“Hush now, Dani,” Miriam whispered, patting her hand in a soothing gesture. “She meant no harm. But you know as well as I do, Ese, that she must be here. It’s been foretold. It will only succeed if we follow the plan.”

Esmeralda glanced over her shoulder. “Galeta will be here any moment. Are you sure of this?”

“Wait. What?” Danika turned toward Miriam, tugging on the tattered sleeve of her blue dress. “You want to be caught? Miriam, have you lost your mind? We have time. We must go. What about the kids? We need to—”

Wide blue eyes pleaded with Danika to stop. “It is the only way, Dani. Galeta will find me now or later, I cannot escape her forever. I’m a fugitive.”

“Of what?!” Danika finally did shriek.

“Of my law,” Galeta’s deep throated voice boomed like cannon fire. “You were never to return, how dare you?” The Blue crackled with bursts of flames as she flitted toward their branch, a tail of blue glow trailing like a shooting star behind her.

Sharp fangs gleamed bright white in her face. Her eyes were narrowed to dangerous slits. “I will deal with you later,” Galeta said as she passed a contrite Esmeralda.

Miriam lifted her chin, her demeanor proud and almost arrogant. “Ye ken the prophecy; I’ve shared it with ye—”

Galeta’s sneer was a mile long and dripped with malice. “Your prophecy. As if that’s proof enough for me.”

What prophecy? Why the bloody hell was Danika always in the dark about everything. She clenched her fists, digging her nails into the palms of her hand so hard she felt the skin break beneath. Her blood buzzed with fairy energy, like prodding an electric gate. Angry didn’t even begin to describe how she felt at the moment.

“Lock them up,” Galeta ordered Esmeralda.

As the fairy of Justice and Truth, Esmeralda had no choice but to do as Galeta ordered. Though she was one of the Ten, none had greater power than the Head Mistress. Galeta’s word was law in fairy.

Miriam thrust her wrists behind her back. “We seek asylum and safe harbor through Kingdom.”

“Ha!” Galeta threw her head back, blue hair swishing back and forth like a pendulum. “You’ll rot in fairy flame. I’ll never release you.”

“But Galeta, surely,” Danika stepped in front of Miriam, dragging the cold glacial stare to herself, attempting to remain calm and rational and not wail and shriek as she desperately wanted to do, “you must understand, we’re going to kill Malvena now. In two nights we’re to meet up with the Heartsong and her wolf.”

A sharp blue brow rose so high, it nearly vanished beneath her hairline. Slowly, she turned toward Ese. “You knew about this?”

“Yes,” Esmeralda said with a sharp clip of her head. “I knew.”

“The Black grows stronger every day. The land sang when the Heartsong stepped back through, she will find the girl,” Galeta mused softly, as if she’d forgotten her audience and spoke to herself.

“Ye ken the prophecy to be true, Galeta,” Miriam spoke up. “I ken that ye hate me, and that’s okay, but for the sake of Kingdom, ye must let our journey continue to the keep. Without me, the child canna win.”

“Crows fly all about Kingdom, rats scuttle down my halls. The Black is desperate to find the girl.” Galeta’s nostrils flared, her words echoed with the faintest trace of capitulation.

“Have you been following Violet?” Miriam asked softly.

Galeta’s jaw clenched. “We follow her traces. The dark magic in her veins is potent, it leaves its marker. We traced her as far as Hansel and Gretel’s woods, but I lost her scent amongst the gore.”

“Please leave her be. I’ve charted a course for them to Malvena’s. They are headed there now. Do not arrest them, Galeta, please.” Miriam closed her eyes. “We will kill the Black.”

Scoffing, Galeta rolled her eyes. “And then what? Hmm? We all know the power of the fairy leaves the body when one of the Ten die. The Black power is too dark to contain, too deadly. It will be released and infect another unfortunate soul, and we’ll be right back where we started. We cannot kill the Black, we must kill the Heartsong. It is the only way.”

“No!” Miriam cried, her wings flapped so hard it stirred the leaves in the tree. “I ken how to stop that. That is why I must be there. That is why the girl must be allowed to continue the journey.”

“She speaks truth, Galeta,” Ese said, turning black eyes toward the Blue. “I’ve seen it. The Shunned will stop it.”

Miriam’s hands were clasped to her breast, her chest barely moving. Danika subconsciously mimicked that very stance, breathless to know Galeta’s decision.

It took only a second. “Stop the Black. Then you’re mine.”

Miriam swallowed hard. “Aye, Galeta. Then I’m yers. But only me; Danika must not be harmed. Nor can Violet or Ewan.”

“No.” Danika shook her head. “She’s done nothing wrong, Head Mistress. Don’t imprison her.”

Blue flames once more coated Galeta’s body as she rose high into the air. “So mote it be,” she said and the air charged with a swift current of spine tingling power. “Esmeralda, to me.”

Esmeralda gave Miriam a grim smile. “Good luck, my friend.”

Then they were gone.

And Danika could hardly believe any of it had happened. Nothing had changed. The air was still as sweet, the night rang with the quiet melody of sleeping creatures. Nothing had changed, that was, except for the greasy pit of dread curled like a ball in Danika’s gut.

“You’re not returning to her, Miriam? Please tell me—”

Miriam smiled. “No. I’m not.”

Relief washed over Danika, and the tension between her shoulders immediately eased. “Thank the goddess.” She laughed. “Good. For a moment you made me question your sanity. Galeta wanted nothing more than to ground you. Strip you of your wings; I couldn’t imagine a worse fate.” She shuddered.

“I can.” Miriam said softly. “Leaving fairy.”

“Oh, Mir, I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head. “I’m back now, and I’ll never leave.”

“Good.” Danika’s wings buzzed, verve and joy bubbled through her body. “We’ll hide and drink cherry blossom fire until we grow old and fat.”

“That sounds lovely.” Miriam hugged her swiftly. “Don’t ever change, Dani. Never. Ye keep that joy, it’ll take ye far.”

“Us far. Us, right?” Danika hooked her arms through Miriam’s, and then lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Now, what is the real plan?”

Miriam withdrew her wand from inside her dress pocket and flicked it at a thick bunch of leaves, plucking them gently off the branch and forming them into a tight green nest. Once finished arranging the leaves, they flew to the bed and settled in, lying on their backs, they gazed at the stars.

“Do ye remember asking me why I dinna allow the Green’s power to go to ye?”

Danika nodded. “Yes. I’ve always wondered that. Though, I must say you saved me that night. I couldn’t imagine having to work with that inflated bag of blue poo day in and day out.”

Miriam chuckled. “The truth is, Dani, yer a magnet. Ye draw powerful magic to ye, but the power isna meant for ye.”

Danika sat up on her elbow, facing Miriam. “That’s why I’m here isn’t it? To draw the Black’s power?”

For centuries Danika had wondered what that level of power would feel like, to be one of the Ten. Magic to rival even the Djinn’s of the east. But never, in all her life, had she desired the Black’s power. Malvena wasn’t the first Black, she was third. Each one more terrifying and destructive than the incarnation before. That power was so dark it always corrupted, no matter how pure the heart started out.

“Will I have to absorb it?”

“Nay.” Miriam shook her head quickly. “I’ll destroy it.”

“But, Mir?” She pressed her lips tight. Not wanting to injure her friend, but how did Miriam think she could destroy something so powerful? Miriam was only a fairy, not one of the powerful Ten.

“It could kill you, Miriam. Are you sure you’re strong enough?”

“Aye, Dani, I’m strong enough.”

Danika didn’t utter another word, heart troubled and more than a little worried for her friend. Maybe they were on a fool’s errand, because she just wasn’t sure how Miriam would able to destroy something so malevolent.

She stared at the stars, praying to the goddess that somehow a miracle would happen, otherwise Danika knew, they’d all die. If Violet couldn’t kill Malvena, if Miriam couldn’t contain the Black’s dark soul... none would survive.

Kingdom would be ruined.

Chapter 14

Just let go. Alice’s words kept echoing in Vi’s head. Ewan was in the next room, she’d heard his prowling this past hour. Pacing back and forth, muttering softly.

He was worried. All through dinner he’d stared at her, his eyes so sad, so haunted, and something inside her cried at the look.

This was all so scary and new. Life had been planned, it’d all made sense. Find the wolf, kill him then kill Malvena (maybe)... end of story. Live a happy, immortal, and boring eternity.

She hugged her knees to her chest, sinking deeper into the soft mattress. Moonlight cast kooky shadows on the wall. But she wasn’t scared. There wasn’t a lot in life that terrified her anymore. Violet had faced down a wolf. Yes, she’d nearly died, but the thrill of meeting her fears head on and surviving, had been euphoric. Although the old hag had creeped her out, but in her defense, she’d still totally laid waste to her.

Her heart hammered painfully in her chest as she dug her toes into the thick white comforter. She’d faced those fears, so why was she so hesitant to face this one? To walk up to him, to tell him that maybe she’d been wrong. No, that she had been wrong. That something inside her longed to know him better, learn who he was.

That she was lonely.

Needed him.

Wanted.

She squeezed her eyes and licked her lips. “Ewan,” she whispered, so softly she knew he wouldn’t hear through the wall. “I’m... sorry. I’m sorry for the pain I caused you. I’m sorry that I made you the bad guy and you weren’t. I’m sorry for a lot of things.” She rocked. “But mostly I’m sorry because I’m too much of a wimp to tell you to your face.”

Her door opened on squeaky hinges.

She gasped and grabbed her chest as a dark shape slinked into her room. Golden eyes stared at her from within a wolf’s face. Swallowing hard, she scooted to the head of the bed.

“Did you hear that?”

His tail thumped, gold eyes searched her face. Almost as if he could peer below the surface, exposing her soul, her strengths, her weaknesses, taking her measure, and giving it back. Letting her know he saw her, but didn’t judge her.

His onyx colored fur gleamed in the moonlight. Like a dark flame, it fascinated. There wasn’t a mark to mar his coat. His snout was long and regal, long whiskers hardly moving. But the eyes, the eyes that stared back at her sparkled with more than just the wild flicker of wolf, there was intelligence, humanity staring back at her.

Slowly, he crept forward, until she could feel the warm exhalations of his breath brushing against her cold fingertips. Her hand trembled as she reached out, touching the long scar that tracked down the corner of his left eye.

“What happened to your eye?”

He licked his muzzle, anxious energy radiated off him as he danced on his front paws.

This was a huge step for her, but she needed to let go. Not just for him, but for her sanity as well. Hating something for so long was exhausting.

“I don’t mind if you switch forms, Ewan.”

Suddenly the room buzzed with the tick-tock of several clocks, white noise she’d ignored, now blasted her ear drums. Kept tune to the beat of her pulse as his bright white light flared its feelers upon the walls.

When she could see again, he was kneeling. Big, beautiful body draped in shadow and gentle spills of moon glow. Those golden eyes were on her face, her body. Anywhere they touched she felt hot, exposed. Restless beneath her clothes.

“I canna sleep.” His deep burr made her body flare with heat and need.

Violet squeezed her thighs, hoping the pressure might stop the tingles radiating between her legs. It only made it worse. Heart trapped in her throat, she could barely manage to whisper, “You don’t need to kneel.”

He stared at her, seemed like hours, but was likely only minutes, and then he was standing and she saw everything. The fine dusting of black hairs smattered along muscular thighs, abdominals so chiseled she was tempted to run her finger along it just to make sure they were real. Dusky skin with tight brown nipples. She saw other things too. A big thing, stiff and frightening looking. But even while it scared her, a part of her wondered what it might feel like inside her.

It couldn’t be all that bad. There were too many people in the world.

Her mouth was dry.

The whole time she’d studied him, his eyes never left her face. She felt that gaze like an imprint, it bore through her skull. “Why do you look at me like that?” she stammered.

“Because yer fair bonny, Red, and sometimes I’m afraid if I blink, ye’ll disappear like ye did before.”

She tipped her head up to look at him. There was heat in his gaze, but there was more. So much more, she had no idea how to describe it. It made her feel warm, safe, desperate, desired. But mostly, it made her long.

“How do you know, Ewan?”

The mattress dipped as he sat so close the heat off his body emanated against her bare toes. Paralyzed with fear, she couldn’t move, even though she desperately wanted to. She wanted to crawl to him, wrap her arms around his neck and beg him to help her.

All she could do was watch, and breathe.

“Know what?” he asked in that exotic scratchy burr and heat spiraled thick and heady through her stomach, resting between her legs.

It was on the tip of her tongue to beg him to go back to his room, that this was too much, too soon. That she still wasn’t sure how to let go of the past—stupid as it was—but Alice’s words were an echo in her ear, so she mustered the last sliver of strength and whispered, “That it was me?”

His fingers twitched, like he wanted to touch her, but knew if he did she’d flee.

“Because it is.”

There it was, so simple, and so difficult at the same time. “Even knowing how I feel? What if I can’t ever let this go?”

His smile was wistful. “Doesna matter. I’ll never force myself on ye, Red. But I will always guard ye, protect ye with my life. That is what a mate does.”

She chuckled and he cocked his head, brows drawn in confusion.

“You’re a masochist. You would pledge your life to a woman who might never be able to touch you, or do the things for you a mate should.”

He leaned in, full lips a feather’s kiss from hers, irises narrowing to twin slits for a second. She went still, prey in the predator’s sight. But it wasn’t fear that rolled through her, it was desire. A yearning so intense she licked her lips.

“But I doona think, it’ll come to that. Ye want me, Red. I smell yer desire all over ye. It’s hot and potent and the wolf is hungry.”

She hadn’t realized she’d begun to lean forward until she almost fell when he pulled back.

He laughed and then standing, held his hand out to her. “Come with me.”

Sweat trickled down her back, her neck. Violet was terrified to touch him, terrified because she feared if she did, she’d pull him on top of her and beg him to do things no man had ever done to her before.

“Where?”

“Yer hot, the Hatter is fond of his springs.”

“A midnight swim?” She lifted a brow. “With you? Alone?”

“Aye. Aye. And aye.”

He didn’t give her a moment to think about it, latching onto her wrist, he yanked her off the bed. Within seconds they were down the hall, in the living room, and then exiting the front door. Violet glanced over her shoulder.

“Won’t they know?” she whispered.

“Doona care.” He marched briskly toward the pond she’d noticed earlier.

Heart racing, pulse thrilling at the thought of swimming with him beneath a large moon and no one else about, she almost skipped along. Then they were there and he was already naked and she knew he expected her to strip in front of him. She stared at the dark, burbling water. Fireflies twirled along the water, their lighted golden dance moving in perfect synchronization. Cattails swayed, and it all looked so magical, too beautiful for words.

It was pretty perfect.

“You shouldn’t look,” she said, cold fingertips under the band of her jeans as the anxiety riddled her gut, twisting it up in knots.

White teeth flashed. “Doona take long.”

Then he dived into the center, a graceful arc that cut clean through the water, barely causing a ripple.

Violet kicked her shoes off and quickly shucked her jeans off next. Not sure how long he’d stay under; she stripped her shirt, bra, and underwear off. This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. Hadn’t she only been thinking mere minutes ago about the possibility of never being able to let go of the past?

But the thoughts were fleeting, she jumped in, bracing for the cold. Shocked when it wasn’t. It was a hot spring, the bubbles were everywhere, tickling every inch of her bare body. Violet bobbed along the surface, turning and frowning when he didn’t resurface.

Then a strong hand grabbed her ankle and yanked, she smiled as she slipped under for a second. Reveling in the warmth, but it didn’t last. Within seconds she bobbed back up to the surface. She could never stay under long. But then his hands began a slow slide up her calf, her thighs, and the chill of the breeze was again replaced with heat. He moved so gently and expertly, that she couldn’t stop the moan or the wash of goose bumps tracking her skin.

Something soft brushed her navel, and she was almost positive it was his lips. Her stomach flopped to her knees as he finally broke through the surface. Her hands brushed along his smooth broad chest and she gripped onto his biceps, latching her nails like daggers into the muscle. He didn’t wince or flinch. The water ran in rivulets from his hair down his face, full pink lips parted and she bit her own, even while her tongue danced behind her mouth.

“The Hatter’s waters are magical. Ye can breathe below. I tried to bring ye down to see his treasures, but ye bob, Red.”

She nodded. “I know. I can’t sink. I’ve tried.” Violet continued to worry her bottom lip, she never talked about this with anyone, wasn’t sure she should trust him. But she wanted to. She took a deep breath. “I’ve got bad blood.”

Large hands framed her face.

“No, it’s true.” She grabbed onto his wrists, reveling in the texture of callused thumbs running softly along her cheeks. “I always wondered why. It’s not normal. My Aunt can sink. Even Grandma could. But not me. Then I read about the Salem Witch Trials.”

“Och, lass.”

She shrugged out of his grip and bobbed backwards, feeling exposed and unsure. “That’s how they tested if you were a witch.”

“It was a failed experiment, Red.” His black hair glistened, and her fingers twitched.

She loved touching soft things, wanted to touch him. But she felt vulnerable and that made her angry. “Because they weren’t witches!”

“Nor are ye, Red.” His eyes were kind.

“I’m something. I have dreams, horrible dreams.”

Violet wrapped her arms around herself. The night was far from chilly, especially in the warm waters, but she couldn’t stop her teeth from clacking.

He didn’t come closer, which only annoyed her. What was wrong with her? She wanted him to go away, but yet she hated when he was gone.

“I dream about violence. Killing things.” She was a dam, and the confession was the crack in that dam. She couldn’t stop it now. Wasn’t sure she wanted to anymore anyway. “I like cutting myself. The pain is pleasure for me. It feels good.” Violet glanced at her open palms, smooth as a baby’s butt. “I should be covered in scars. Do you know how many times I’ve done it?”

“Lass, don’t—”

“No, you don’t! I’m sick of never being able to tell people about me. Of always pretending like I’m okay, I’m not okay. I feel that darkness in me, it spreads through my body. It’s already poisoned my heart. I want to hate you. It hurts that I can’t. It hurts that I want to know you, touch you, feel you.”

Ewan started swimming closer and she held up her palm.

“Don’t touch me.”

He swam closer.

“I mean it, Ewan, just go away. I’m a freak, I’m bad. You don’t want me as a mate.”

His hand grabbed hers, then his fingers softly slid between her own. He placed their closed palms against his chest. The firm beat of his heart a steady thump-thump against her hand.

She shuddered, heat built behind her eyes.

“Do ye ken what I see when I look at ye?”

She turned her face, and he turned it back with a finger under her jaw.

“I see eyes bluer than the sky after a good hard rain.”

Her lashes fluttered.

Threading a lock of her hair around his finger, he gave it a gentle yank. “And hair more golden than Rumplestiltskin’s straw.”

He lifted their twined hands to his lips and pressed a firm kiss against the tip of her finger. It was like someone had connected a live wire to her brain, every nerve in her body flared to life. Humming and zinging against one another in a chaotic motion of desperate need.

Ewan kissed her next finger, and the next, until he got to the webbing between her thumb and gently sucked on it. Each pull tightened things down low, made her ache and want to cry.

“I’m sorry, Red. If I’d been there, I would have kissed it all away. Yer beautiful, lass. My heart aches to look on ye, to see that pain and ken I can do nothing for ye. Doona cut yerself again.”

“But the urges...”

He shook his head, his eyes like a beacon in the dark, dark night. “Use me. I’m a wolf, I like being bitten.”

She licked her lips as her teeth began to ache. What would it feel like to bite him? Could it possibly satisfy the urges she felt?

Ewan cocked his head to the side, exposed his neck. A large vein throbbed just beneath his skin. He touched the spot. “Do it.”

Violet gave a self-effacing chuckle, humiliated at her desperate desire to do just that, work the flesh beneath her teeth, her tongue. “I... no. No, I can’t do it, Ewan.”

“Do it,” he growled, his voice nowhere near as gentle as before. The wolf demanded and goddess she was so tempted. The vein pulsed, throbbed.

“I... I...”

His large hand gripped the back of her head, lowering her. There was a deep, rumbling moan and Violet had no idea if she’d made the sound or him.

She licked his collarbone, the slightly salty taste filled her head, her nose. He shuddered and then she bit him. Sank her teeth in, but unlike when she cut herself, she didn’t break skin. She rolled him around in her mouth, her tongue tracing the contours of his taut vein.

“Lass,” his deep voice caressed the side of her neck, stoking the flame.

His hands were on her waist, pulling her close. Her body melded with his, his heat hers and hers his. The thick length of him seemed to grow harder the more she bit and she moaned when his hands began to trace the curve of her back, up and down. Resting casually on her rear, before fingers tiptoed down its slope. Heat splashed between her thighs, she was wet and so ready. But for what? She didn’t know what else to do, her body needed more, but she didn’t know how to get it.

There was fire in her blood, her head, her veins. Panic clawed, screamed. She wanted this. Now. Now.

But... but...

She shoved him back, wiping the back of her mouth with her wrist. Thigh muscles twitched, her stomach ached. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving for air. His irises had slitted again.

“You liked that?” Her question came out an accusation.

He closed his eyes, trying, it seemed, to regain his composure. “Yer nay ready, Red. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what—” Her voice cracked and the tears that’d threatened earlier began to spill down the corners of her eyes, blinding his face. “I’m sorry, Ewan, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Quickly, she exited the water, scooping up her clothes and running back to the cottage with them pressed to her heart. It was gone. Her hatred. It was gone. She couldn’t hate something she wanted so desperately, but the wanting scared the hell out of her.

Later in her room, when the rest of the world was silent as the grave, she punched a fist into her pillow and wondered what she’d say to him tomorrow.

How could she explain that she hadn’t run from him, but from herself? From the madness spreading through her brain screaming that he was hers as much as he’d let the whole world know she belonged to him?

Violet stared out the window, at the sky bejeweled with silver stars, but all she could see was the memory of his golden gaze flashing with hurt when she’d run away.

Chapter 15

Ewan said goodbye to the Hatter and his Alice and then taking a hold of Red’s elbow, guided her into the spiraling blue tunnel.

Last night had been a nightmare. He’d gone to bed harder than a rock. Her teeth on him, gripping him. Tiny nails clawing into his flesh, she mated like a wolf.

He glanced at Violet, she was silent, pale. They hadn’t spoken after last night.

Sighing, he looked away. She didn’t need to worry that he hadn’t liked it. He’d loved it. Gloried in it. A wolf mated violently, it wasn’t softness and rose petals. It was soul to soul, striped, bare, and raw. A melding of two like hearts. To an outsider it might even appear brutal, but it wasn’t. It was passion at its very essence. Untamed and wild.

But she’d think he was lying, he knew that. Was coming to know her more and more each day. His Red was perfect for him, if only she could see that.

“Where are we going?” she asked, still not glancing at him.

He cleared his throat. “Beyond the Misty Isle, where the kraken roams.”

She shuddered. “A kraken? My Aunt hates me.”

Ewan laughed and was delighted to note her answering grin.

“Nay, Red. She only wishes to prepare ye.”

Blue light sped past in a dizzying arc; millions of silver bursts studded the ever revolving tunnel of blue. It was surreal and yet lovely. Violet’s gold blond hair almost seemed to sparkle.

She was trying to make peace; he knew this wasn’t easy for her. There were dark rings beneath her eyes; she’d slept very little last night, if at all.

“So what this time? Do I have to suck that things soul out too? Because I draw the line at squid. I’m allergic to shellfish.”

His laughter echoed hollowly, booming long and loud down the distant span of space and time. “Shellfish? Don’t they have soft bodies?”

She shrugged and finally glanced at him beneath long, thick lashes. “About last night—”

He shook his head. “It shouldn’t have happened. Ye were nay ready.”

Violet placed her finger on his lips, stopping him. The soft weight of it tugged on his heart.

“If you keep talking, I’ll lose my nerve, Ewan.”

She took a deep breath, and all he wanted to do was pepper the tip of her upturned nose—covered in a fine smattering of freckles—with kisses.

“I like you. A lot.” She licked her lips.

If he knew she wouldn’t bolt, he’d lean down and taste her, lick at the seams of her closed lips until she parted for him.

“I like that you’re always naked around me. I like that I can look as much as I want. I like that you want to be around me. I like that you’re a killer. I like the darkness in you. I like that you’re big and bad and scary. I like that you make me feel small and safe and special.” She sighed. “I like you.”

All the blood rushed to his head, making it hard to hear as his ears buzzed with the hot rush.

Her eyes were wide and frightened like a hare caught in a snare. The pulse at the base of her throat jumped, and it was all he could do to pretend her words hadn’t given him a painful erection. One he’d barely been able to stop sporting a few hours ago.

“If I survive whatever comes with Malvena—”

“Ye will,” he growled, knowing in his soul he’d do whatever it took to make it so. Even if that meant betraying all of his kind, killing them mercilessly and ruthlessly, he’d do it. He’d move heaven and earth to keep his Red safe.

She shushed him again. “If I do, then I think... maybe...”

Narrowing his eyes, his brogue grew thick when he said, “Aye?”

“Maybe...” She leaned up on tiptoe, their breaths mingling.

Tiny pink tongue darting out the corner of her mouth, so close, all he’d have to do was stick his own out to taste it. Small hands roamed the breadth of his chest as her nails began that delicious sliding scrape against his flesh.

He was only a man, a wolf one at that, she tempted him beyond reason. And all the promises he’d made to himself last night to be good, to keep his hands off—they melted into the ether. Ewan gripped her luscious bottom and lifted her, forcing her to open her legs and straddle him.

He hissed when the rough texture of her jeans slid along his shaft.

“Ewan,” her voice broke, and then she claimed his lips.

Ewan had no idea where they traveled, they should have exited long ago, but none of that mattered. He couldn’t think around the passion burbling through his brain.

She was wild, rough. Her teeth bruising his lips with each punishing kiss. There was no place for him to brace his back on, so he knelt, dragging her with him. Her nails gouged the back of his head.

“Can you make it stop?” she panted, nipping and clawing around his face and neck.

“Wha, lass?” he moaned, catching her lips between his teeth and sucking on its firm fullness, laving his tongue along its smoothness.

She moaned hard and pulled away, almost frenzied in her effort to touch him. Nibbling on his collarbone, his flesh broke out in goose bumps.

“The wanting, Ewan,” she murmured. “The needing.” She bit him and he groaned, balls so tight and hard to his body he was sure the pleasure would kill him. “I see you. All the time. I want you.” She bit harder, sinking in so hard his skin very nearly broke.

Beads of sweat dotted his brow. He tugged on the shell of her ear gently, nuzzling the sweet scent of her neck, imprinting her on his heart. Ewan blew small puffs of air into her hair, her flesh, marking her with his scent. Letting anyone else know she was his and his alone.

“I can,” he mumbled and then shuddered when his hands found her breasts. He palmed them, kneading and rolling the nipples expertly between his fingers.

She arched, moaning in wild abandon and pride bloomed in his chest. His touch did that to her, his mouth, his tongue. She danced for him.

“Touch me everywhere.” She hissed when he rolled her nipples again, a rosy flush crept up her neck and settled in her cheeks making her blue eyes almost seem to glow.

“Are ye sure, lass?” If she ran away now, he’d go feral.

“Mmm,” she mumbled, fumbling with the button of her jeans.

With a growl, he ripped the button off and then shoved his hand down her pants, fingers seeking the center of her. Pleasure swirled through his cock, made him grind his teeth with the pleasure/pain when his fingers became slick with her heat.

“Oh my gods.” She flung her head back, arcing her neck and back, forcing him to brace her with his one hand, lest she slip from his grasp. “Yes, Ewan.” Violet wiggled on him as he slid a finger in.

She was tight and when he encountered her virginal barrier his heart screamed with joy. The lass was untouched. All his, always.

“Red. Red,” he moaned and then she gripped him in a tight fist and he jerked at the exquisite torture. The friction of no lubrication was nothing compared to the pleasure jackknifing through him.

“Too much clothes,” he snarled, extracting his hand to pull her jeans down.

She kicked, trying to help. But only succeeded in getting herself tangled up in her pants.

“Calm yerself, Red,” he murmured, and with a swift tug tossed the jeans aside.

“I don’t know...” she said.

His heart almost stopped beating. Squeezing his eyes shut, panting harder than he ever had in his life, he rested his forehead against hers and ground through his teeth, “If yer gonna force me to stop, say it now.”

His cock and balls ached so much; the merest touch of her hand against him would make him come.

“No,” she moaned, eyes bright and feverish looking. “Oh, goddess no. I just don’t know what to do. What do I do, Ewan?" There was a panicked edge to question.

He laughed, and then growled deep in his throat when he jerked against her hand. “Whatever the bloody hell ye please.”

“Okay,” she said, and then bit him at the base of his throat. Just like she had last night.

Ewan hissed, lights danced behind his eyes as the bliss rolled wave after wave over him. Drowning him in pleasure so deep he never wanted to resurface.

Wild, desperate, his wolf rolled just beneath the surface of his control. “I need ye. Now,” he groaned, when she licked the tender flesh she’d just bitten.

“Yes, oh yes.”

He needed to go slow. Though he wanted fire and passion, she was untried. Even a she wolf needed gentle when ripping through the barrier.

Clenching his teeth as sweat dripped into his eyes, he tugged on her panties, slipping them to the side and exposing the wet jewel beneath. He hissed.

“Gods, Red,” he said, staring down at the thatch of blond curls.

She was breathing hard, looking dazed. “Will it hurt?” she whispered, no longer moving on him.

The muscle in his jaw ticked. “I’m big, lass. It’ll hurt. At first, and only a little.”

She swallowed hard, but nodded. “I trust you.”

The words were a benediction in his ears. Grabbing her bum, he lifted her. “Spread your legs wide for me.”

She did as he said and his stomach flopped at the sight of her. Legs spread wide, arms braced on his chest, as her wet center hovered just above the hard length of him.

“Hang on, and breathe,” he advised.

Her blue eyes were wide.

Then he lowered her and the first touch of her wet heat on his cock, made him jerk. Ewan bit his tongue, forcing the wolf back. Control. He needed control, or he’d never last.

Inch, by glorious inch, he sank her down on him. It was slow, and agonizing. Her sheath so wet it slipped over him like a glove. Then he encountered her tight barrier.

She moved, and then grunted as he began the final push.

“Ewan,” she whispered.

“Ssh, lass... almost... there.” He kissed her lips, tasting her fears, her lust, and with one last surge, broke through.

Violet hissed, going completely still.

Ewan breathed through his nose, trying hard not to move when everything inside him screamed to buck. So tight. So warm. Perfect. His head swam.

After a moment she started to wiggle and slowly he pumped into her. In and out.

“Oh.” She said and then started to move, finding the perfect rhythm.

Grunting, he pushed harder.

“Oooh,” she laughed. “Ohhh, now I see why everyone does this.”

Then there were no more words. Ewan wasn’t going to last. “Red,” he moaned, fingers gripped her waist tight. “Are ye close?”

She danced on him, her breasts bouncing beneath the sweater. Unable to resist, he released her waist and slipped his hands underneath, latching onto the plump globes.

Violet writhed when he pinched her nipples. “Something, it’s building... so... ahhh,” she threw her head back, exposing the beating pulse of her neck.

The same spot he’d bitten her before. Now smooth and unmarred. Growling, he licked at it. Pumping harder and harder. Then he bit and she screamed. “Ewan!”

Darkness spiraled through his gut, through his legs, out the tip of his cock as he unloaded his seed in hot spurts.

“Red. My Red,” he moaned, slow to come back to himself. His head was dizzy, his legs like jelly. He pinched her firm rump.

She laughed, twining her fingers through his hair. A lazy gleam in her eyes. A fine sheen of sweat covered her face. “Sorry, about last night,” she said.

“Ye can make it up to me later.” He nipped the spot on her neck where he’d bitten her. Then kissed it tenderly, contented and at peace with his place in the world.

She kissed the corner of his lips, brushing sweaty hair out of her eyes. “I thought you said wolves did it rough.” Violet punched his chest. “That wasn’t bad at all.”

His eyes widened and he growled low in his throat. “That was for yer benefit, Red. Nay mine. Now that ye’ve been broken in, I’ll show ye just how rough this wolf likes it.”

Her smile was shy, but gleamed brightly, until she glanced over his shoulder.

“Ewan,” she whimpered.

There was no pleasure in the sound of his name, but fear, bright and instant. Violet scooted off him, rearranged her panties and looking around. “Where’s my jeans?”

Ewan frowned, still in a lust soaked stupor when he turned around, only to stare into the smiling face of a brightly clothed Kermani. They’d exited the tunnel and he’d been too caught up to notice.

“Good evening, my friends. And may I just say, a much different reception than last time, no?” Brown, almost black eyes glinted in the waning daylight.

Jerking to his feet, Ewan shoved Violet completely behind him, shielding her body from the Easterner’s view.

“What the bloody hell, are ye doin’ here?” he barked, lungs vibrating with the deep animal growl of his wolf.

Kermani’s walk was slow, deliberate and measured; his checkered colored pants distracting. “I truly hate to do this, as I consider The Shunned a true ally, but...”

Ewan’s heart thundered as he scanned the horizon. There were no whipping seas, no violent gray skies, but there was a spiraling black gothic tower set against the backdrop of a twisted, skeletal forest. Malvena’s keep.

“Ye sold us out,” Ewan accused, his skin tingling with the rush of his wolf’s hatred. “How did ye find us?”

“Oh.” Kermani laughed, large golden hoop in his ear swished with his movements. “It’s quite clever actually. The dream stone you used when you left my home, Malvena put a tracker on it. We very nearly had you in the Hatter’s woods. But the bastard found you first.” He rolled his fingers along his jaw. “Hid you well, but we knew you’d have to travel this road again.”

Ewan’s skin felt too tight, too hot. Fur rippled beneath his flesh, desperate to rip through, become the beast so he could tear Kermani limb from limb. But Red wasn’t moving, barely breathing. He thought maybe she was in shock, and he didn’t want to terrify her further.

“Then she heard a ghostly echo of Misty Isles.” Kermani shrugged his shoulders, bunching his turquoise colored shirt. “It was a simple matter of rerouting. You were too busy rutting to notice.”

His smile was lecherous, not at all open and pleasant as he’d been the last time. Fury was a hot consuming thing that threatened Ewan’s sanity, his reason. He held on to the image of a quaking Violet as his tether, praying it might ground him, help him hang onto the last shreds of humanity.

But the shred was barely a sliver. His jaw felt thick, stretched, aching with the need to become. His throat burned with the pent up rumble.

“You’ve betrayed Miriam’s trust.” Ewan’s fist clenched, nails gouging his palms, leaving behind a hot wet smear.

“I think you mean, I betrayed yours. The Shunned paid me, Malvena paid me more. My allegiance lies with my family. This is only a matter of business.” Kermani shrugged. “No hard feelings.”

Something cold and chilling brushed against his back, when a pulsation blasted through him. Dark and twisted, like a lethal blade, cutting into his flesh. Variegated colored smoke curled around his ankles.

Ewan didn’t dare take his eyes off Kermani.

“Red,” he growled in a voice more wolf than man, “are ye alright?”

Kermani’s obsidian eyes narrowed to thin slits as he stared at a spot behind Ewan’s head.

Breathing heavy, dripping with sweat, Ewan chanced a quick peek. But he was unprepared for the sight that greeted him.

Blue and red smoke billowed from Red’s every pore, seeped from her nostrils, her mouth. Bled through her eyes, washing out the cobalt blue and turning them a deep indigo. She was looking dead at him, but not really. Her gaze saw beyond, into another reality. Blond tips of her hair danced like charmed snakes around her head as a wind he couldn’t feel encased her body.

“Red?” Ewan sniffed the ash laden air; there was the scent of brimstone and fire. It clung its sticky fingers to his nostrils, forcing him to breathe through his mouth. She reeked of death.

“What is she?” Kermani hissed, his voice cracking just slightly beneath the veneer of cool.

She wasn’t scared. She didn’t cower. Which meant Ewan didn’t have to wear the leash. He called his light, howling as his body stretched and contorted. Howling when muscles lengthened and claws ripped through his hands and feet.

When the white light died Kermani had a set of wicked looking daggers in each fist. “The Black will arrive any moment now,” he warned, circling to Ewan’s right.

Ewan snapped his fangs, pulling back his muzzle far enough to let the length of his canines show. The short man weaved in and out, his pants and shirt billowing like a silk curtain as he moved. Ewan kept him in his sights, never allowing Kermani too close to Red.

Then Kermani jumped, moving like a blur and drawing first blood as his blade carved a fine line through his ear. Ewan howled and twirled, but then Kermani was back. Over and over, taking a small slice out of him each time. A whirling dervish he could not see to defend himself against.

“YOU WOULD DARE!” Red’s voice thundered, cracking through the air with an inhuman strain.

Then she jumped, pouncing on Kermani like a predatory cat with the thick smoke undulating around her. The slight man fell to the ground, slashing and cutting. Red screamed.

Desperate to get Kermani and his knives away from Red, Ewan barreled into the smoke screen. His eyes were useless, the smoke around her had increased. She was in color so thick it was like trying to look through shadow.

There were grunts and groans. The sharp slap of skin striking skin. Closing his eyes, Ewan scented the situation. But the brimstone was everywhere, disorienting him. There were elbows and hands everywhere, knocking into his side. But he didn’t know who to bite, what to bite. Which one was Kermani?

Growling, panicked, Ewan bumped into a slight body kneeling upon another. He took several quick breaths, beneath the brimstone and barely perceptible, he smelled flowers.

Then there were screams, keening wails like the sound of a dying animal. What the bloody hell was happening? He needed to regain control of this situation, clamping onto the ankle beneath his paw (praying he hadn’t bitten through Red’s tender flesh), he dragged the body away from the cloying smoke.

Heart pounding, eyes wide, Ewan prepared himself for the worst. The second they escaped the dense shroud, he opened his eyes. And it was. It was brutal. Violent.

But not who he’d expected.

Kermani’s lips were flopping open and shut, his dark eyes clouded with pain as he gasped for breath from a body whose ribs were sunken and cracked. Blood soaked through his shirt, turning it a dark shade of crimson black.

“Ewan,” Red’s voice was reedy and strained. He glanced up, she was stumbling out of the smoke. The breeze was clearing the haze, when she dropped to her knees, fingers curling into the ground.

Ewan ran to her as he called his unbecoming. Half man, half wolf, as he latched onto her with paws and hefted her to her feet. Fire sizzled through his veins, touching her was like touching a live wire. Power so strong rolled off her in waves, made him clamp his teeth against the scream trapped in his throat.

Dizzy with sweat, he gulped in air, trying to keep her steady on her feet. She swayed, blinking huge owl eyes back at him. They were still purple.

“Ewan?” she whimpered. “I’m scared.”

“I got ye, Red. Stay with me. Listen to my voice.” He patted her cheek, trying to get her to focus. But her head kept lolling side to side.

She was mumbling and he could only catch snatches of it. “...what did I do? Wicked... Dead?”

“Nay, lass,” he shook his head. Trying hard to tamp down the stomach churning memory of Kermani broken and bloody, so that he could answer her with a calm, reassuring voice. “He will live.” Maybe. “Yer nay wicked, Red. Now wake up.”

There was clapping and the caw of several thousand birds and Ewan’s heart sank to his knees.

“My big black wolf.” Malvena’s voice was bottomless, insidious. “And so we meet again. I thought you dead.” There was a ghostly quality to her voice that was both lyrical and wickedly disturbing.

He shuddered, trying to keep Red firmly tucked within the shelter of his body. She was still mumbling.

Malvena stepped out of the shadows. She wore a robe spun of midnight and stars, it cut along the length of her body, exposing tantalizing bits of naked flesh beneath. Her red hair crackled like the flames of a chimera. Her rose red lips were curved up in a plump, luscious smile.

Crows sat on each shoulder, their beady black eyes drilling holes through Ewan’s skull. Malvena petted one of them.

“Is baby hungry?” she cooed.

The crow snapped its beak with a loud thud. Malvena’s deep blue eyes glowed with satisfaction.

“Why are ye here?” Ewan snarled, rubbing a soothing hand down Red’s cold arm.

Malvena cocked her head. “That is none of your concern. You no longer work for me. Tell me,” she ran her long red nail up and down the bird’s back, “did you like being Danika’s whore?”

His mouth curled.

She touched her breast, the slight curve of it peeking out beneath the robe. “When you could have had all...” She continued trailing her hand slowly down the peekaboo path of skin, down to the vee between her legs, hidden by the flimsiest bit of tassel. “This.”

Then her eyes hardened and something dangerous flickered within. “Instead you choose to betray me!” Her voice grew deep, full of tempestuous hate. “Aero. Aria. Go.”

The crows shot off her shoulders and she cackled as they bomb dived his head, their sharp beaks slashing at the back of his skull, drawing blood.

Ewan swatted at them, while trying to shield Red’s body.

Then there were more. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. He was blinded by a choking cloud of feathers and beaks as blood poured into his eyes.

Red screamed, tiny fingers dug into his chest.

“Oh don’t worry,” Malvena sneered, “they were only sent to kill you, Ewan. Little Red Riding Hood and I have much to speak of.”

Even though the cawing of so many birds nearly deafened him, he’d heard her every word. Chunks of flesh were picked off his body, too many birds to keep up with.

Malvena snapped her fingers, and with one final scream, Red was yanked out from beneath him.

“Violet!” Ewan roared, but there was no answer.

Malvena and Red were gone, all that remained were killer crows.

Chapter 16

One second she was in his arms, terrified, but safe. The next, she was bobbing in water. Teeth chattering, Violet rubbed her arms, coughing and sputtering as salty waves slapped her in the face.

The sky was a dark greenish-yellow and streaked with thick ribbons of clouds.

“The Heartsong. At last we meet.”

Startled, Violet twirled. A miniature woman floated above her, broad black butterfly wings flapping languorously behind her. “Malvena,” her voice cracked. “Where’s Ewan? What have you done to him?”

The fairy flicked her wrist. “Oh nothing that I shouldn’t have done ages ago. But tell me,” her blue eyes sparkled, “was he as good in the sack as I always thought he’d be? He’s got such a hard on for you.”

“You’re disgusting,” Violet said, and then a wave smacked into her. She swallowed the briny water, coughing violently as she tried to expel it from her lungs.

“Oh, please don’t tell me you didn’t sleep with him.” Malvena smirked.

The woman was mad.

Pulse ringing in her ears, spitting sea water out, Violet jerked around desperately trying to spot land, anywhere she could get out. Another long swell lifted her in the air, she stretched her arms, letting the wave drag her up. Where was the land?

“Don’t bother,” Malvena smiled, “you’re in the middle of the Never Sea. There’s no land for miles.”

Violet opened her mouth.

Malvena tsked. “I wouldn’t scream if I were you. You see, the Sea Hag makes her home here and she hasn’t eaten in a couple weeks.” Malvena laughed and whispered conspiratorially, “I wouldn’t disturb her if I were you.”

Panic ate at her brain and with the panic came the darkness trapped in her soul. It seeped up through her blood like a slow toxin.

A glint of something malevolent winked back at Violet and then Malvena inhaled, eyes rolling to the back of her head. The rainbow colored mist beginning to escape through Violet’s body rolled toward the demonic fairy.

Violet jerked, sucking in a breath as a chill radiated through her bones, feeling as if her soul had just been leeched from her body. She cried out and wiped the back of her nose, a red streak marred the back of her hand.

Malvena clutched her chest and danced, wings flitting happily as she crowed loudly. “So much power.”

Tiny fangs drew down from the fairy’s mouth.

Her powers wouldn’t work on the Black. Couldn’t work on her. Malvena could suck her up too; clean her out like a vampire draining their victim’s blood. The crone had done it too, but Malvena was much, much stronger.

Sea water stung Violet’s eyes, mingled with the tears running down her cheeks.

Vi started to swim, anything was better than staying put and letting herself be eaten alive by the cannibal.

“I told you, swimming is fruitless.” The voice no longer sounded feminine. “Come here, girl!”

It was like invisible bands wrapped around Violet’s middle and yanked her back to where she’d been. She thrashed, but the bands were unyielding.

“You misunderstand me, Little Hood,” Malvena smiled and then licked her lips. The serpentine forked tongue made Violet tremble and her stomach drop to her knees.

“You killed my crone, and made mincemeat of Kermani.” She laughed with a sound like the demonic toll of Hell’s bells. “You are not the same miserable, pathetic girl I searched for before. You are strong, powerful.”

She flitted closer and Violet winced when the tiny claw dragged along her jaw.

“The hate, it burns in you.” She inhaled. “You like killing, the taste of power. Embrace it, Violet, for it is our friend.”

Violet jerked away, swimming backwards, kicking her feet to get away from the ten inch nightmare. “Why are you telling me this? Where’s Ewan?”

Malvena smiled. “You like him,” she laughed, “you do know he killed Jana.”

“Because she was working for you!” Violet snarled. “She was going to kill me. He saved me.”

“He worked for me too, little girl. Or did you not know that part of the story?”

The crux of it, the whole point of her anger toward Ewan, was that right there. He’d been sent to kill her. By Malvena. And he would have done so. Except she was his mate. And from that moment on, he’d done his very best to rectify his misdeeds. A soft smile pulled at her heart and tugged on her lips.

“I know it. I also know he’s mine.”

“Ohh,” Malvena tapped her chin, “you’ve claimed him too. How very interesting.”

Water moved rapidly beneath Violet’s feet. She kicked, feeling the rolling balls of waves slap hard against her legs. Glancing down, she frowned at the muddy water.

“Then here’s your choice, Red.” Malvena held up a finger. “I won’t kill you. I’ll release you and give you Ewan as your lifelong mate,” she rolled her eyes, “and in return all I ask is one itty bitty favor. You won’t even miss it. Much.” She shrugged.

Violet’s heart clenched. “He’s alive?”

Malvena nodded. “For now.”

A small favor. Violet seriously doubted anything would be small with the Black. This was a devil’s deal, she’d be stupid to make it. Everyone knew the devil always lied.

“What?”

“I want your soul.” She didn’t smile, laugh, or even twitch a brow. Malvena’s words were sharp, clear, and unswerving.

Violet slapped her palm over her heart. “My soul? Why? Why do you want me?”

“Oh come, come.” Malvena rolled her wrist. “Let’s not get all theatrical about this. You don’t even need a soul to live. You’ll still be immortal, but with none of your wicked powers. And honestly, wouldn’t it be a blessing to let go of that evil side of you?”

The way she said it, so calmly, rationally, Violet couldn’t help but consider it. She didn’t want to be bad. To crave hurting things. What would it be like to live the rest of her life without the darkness inside her?

She licked her lips.

Malvena flitted closer, holding out her tiny hand. “All you have to do is say... yes.”

It was so tempting. So, so tempting...

Malvena’s full lips curved. “I had a daughter once. She looked a lot like you. Blonde hair, green eyes, with a smattering of freckles along her nose.”

Her words were soft, yearning. It made her seem less monstrous, more human. Violet leaned in ever so slightly.

Malvena settled on Violet’s shoulder, her insubstantial weight barely felt as she tucked strands of Vi’s wet hair behind her ear. Gently patting it into place.

“My reasons are entirely altruistic. I’m simply a mother who wants her daughter back. Can’t you understand?”

In that moment, in that second, Violet didn’t see a deranged or even evil fairy, she saw something that was grieving. Desperate to make right a wrong. How could she deny her that chance?

“STOP!”

The scream shattered Violet’s thoughts, startled, she glanced up. Her Aunt flitted beside another tiny fairy. Miriam was grabbing her chest, heaving for breath. The traveling portal was little more than a sliver of a rift in the brackish sky.

“Get away from us, Shunned!” Malvena’s voice was pure malic again, dripping with deadly intentions.

“Danika,” Miriam pointed to Violet, her hand trembled, gray wisps of hair frizzed around her head with static power, “stop her.”

A pink ball of light zoomed like a rocket toward them. Violet could barely understand anything that was going on. Then the pink ball crashed into Malvena and a scuffle broke out. They were clawing, gouging at each other. Danika’s fangs became thick and long.

“She’s mine!” Malvena screamed.

Then a tiny set of teeth pierced Violet’s neck, breaking through the vein, and started drinking.

It was like being envenomed by a thousand wasps, prodded with ten thousand scorpion tails, and burned alive. Violet screamed as something cold and dark welled up from the pit of her stomach, leeching life and soul from her body.

Then the teeth were ripped out and blood leaked down her breast. Her head swam as the waves that’d calmed while Malvena spoke to her, now raged. Wracked with chills, she could barely move even though the water frothed and bubbled, churning with rage, lathered with fury. All around, it looked like the water bled red. Was she bleeding? Dying? There was so much blood, it was everywhere.

Violet’s heart stuttered when a series of undulations rolled just below the surface; a green glint of scales beginning to peek through.

“Aunt Mir,” Violet screamed, finally able to find her voice.

Her Aunt’s arms were wrapped around her. She was back to normal size, but her skin looked worn, her eyes ragged. “Calm yerself, me love.”

“Danika, have you got her?”

Something big and very rough brushed Violet’s feet. She lifted her feet, tucking them beneath her bottom, even though the position forced more sea water into her mouth. There was something underneath.

“Help,” Danika cried, her wand pointed at Malvena who—though her nose was busted and bloodied—wore a smile. The veins in her neck pulsed and twitched violently. No words escaped her lips, but there was a rigidity in her mummified stance that said she was fighting whatever enchantment Danika had thrown at her.

“I’m too weak,” Danika said, arm trembling.

Aunt Mir withdrew her wand, a pink bolt of energy sang from its tip and Malvena’s back arced, the robes were the only things that moved.

“This won’t hold her long,” Miriam cried.

“What are you doing?” Violet gasped as Malvena’s eyes began to bulge from their sockets.

Aunt Mir was sweating, her nostrils flared tight. “We’ve bound her, but it won’t last long. You must kill her, Violet.”

Just then the beast that’d been thrashing the waters broke free. All Violet saw was a dog’s face with tusks the lengths of her arms.

“Bloody damn!” Danika sputtered. “We can’t stay here, Mir.”

“I can hold her long enough for you to open the portal,” Miriam cried, a shiny drop of blood dripped from her nose.

Aunt Miriam cried out when Danika moved to flick her wrist and open a portal. The dog faced hag swooped in, razor teeth grinding maliciously, its fetid breath bathing Violet’s face when she was yanked by her collar through the portal. Taken to only the gods knew where.

Where was Ewan?

Chapter 17

His mouth was full of feathers and gore, his breathing was harsh and ragged. Ewan stood in the center of a pile of dead crows. Small black eyes unblinking, beaks opened, some with dangling bits of fur and flesh still in them.

He’d kill one and two more would take its place. Pecking, gouging, and tearing at him. His fur was matted with blood, mostly his own. One of the beaks had nearly pierced through to his lungs.

A soft wuffing sound happened whenever he exhaled. His muscles spasmed with each painful step he took. Blood clouded his vision, he licked his muzzle, but the thick liquid only ran harder when he broke up the clots.

Where had Malvena taken her? They could be anywhere. Anywhere. Dead crows littered his feet, Ewan threw back his head and howled. There was no scent, no trace of them.

Long he called, voice rolling up and down in a haunting melody of anguish and sorrow. But there was no answer. The woods were pregnant with silence, thick with secrets.

Calling the unbecoming, he grit his teeth through the transformation, grunting when his bones popped and snapped back to human proportions. Panting, covered in sweat and his own gore, he dropped to his knees. Black hair covered his face as he tried to remember the stories his sire had told him long ago.

His father had never talked much with Ewan, an absent father most of the time, a drunkard the rest. But once he’d overhead him while thick in his cups, swearing that his bitch whore could never screw the neighbor’s runt again now that he’d marked her.

Ewan had hidden within deep shadow inside the den, trembling when his father had yanked his mother by her hair, dragging her out and laughing in her terrified face that she now bore his mark and she could never run off again without him knowing about it. He’d never seen his mother again after that, his father had become little more than a ghost passing in and out of his life, leaving a seven year old Ewan to care for his three younger siblings.

Ewan had marked Red.

But he didn’t know how to track her, always relying on his smell, but there was none to find here. Malvena had covered all traces.

Ewan gripped his skull, tugging his hair and gnashing his teeth.

“Red,” he croaked, “where are ye, lass?”

The wind stirred leaves, whispered through feathers of the dead carcasses at his feet. His body ached, screamed whenever he twitched. But he held still and tried to focus on something other than the frenetic beat of his wild heart.

“Red.” He squeezed his eyes shut harder, colorful lights danced behind closed lids. “Answer me.”

This time when the zephyr brushed against his nude back, a violent bump bump followed in its wake. His spine stiffened.

Bump. Bump.

He snapped his eyes open.

Bump. Bump.

It was like a fist knocking at the wall of his chest.

Bump. Bump. Bumpbumpbump...

He ran, following the sound of her rapidly beating heart.

Bumpbumpbumpbump. Ewanewanewan... Ewan.

“I’m coming, Red,” he roared, letting the sound fill his head, his lungs, his heart, and soul. Tree limbs tore at his already ravaged flesh, but he didn’t dare stop.

He couldn’t smell her. But he felt her. Warmth and sunshine; her violence and mayhem. She was HIS, his women, all of her. Her violence, her pleasure and pain.

His vision narrowed down to a pinprick, dodging trees the best he could, covering his eyes when he couldn’t avoid a slapping branch. Running faster, panting desperately for air around the fire ripping through his chest.

Rocks tore up the soles of his feet. He slipped on the blood, forced to run up the hill with both hands and feet. Nails splitting as he clawed his way up.

Ewanewanewanewanewan....

The moment he crested the hill he heard her everywhere.

Ewan. Ewan. Ewan.

He stopped, grasping onto his aching side, lungs heaving as he twirled. Everything was dark and black. Ewan wiped the stinging wetness out of his eyes, the salt left a bitter sting behind.

“Red!” he roared, brogue so thick it sounded more like riyad.

Then a flash of bright pink energy sparked like a firework’s display above the enormous tree lines a hundred yards ahead.

One breath in. A deep breath out.

In and out.

Arms pumping.

Leg muscles flopping like a dying fish out of water. He tripped on a stone, rolling down the hill the rest of the way. Barely registering the fresh cuts and scrapes as he forced his battered body to stand up. He tried to run, but could barely do more than hobble. Adrenaline was the only thing he ran on now.

“Ewan! Come quickly. Come.” It was Danika’s voice. “She needs you, boy. Come.”

He broke through the trees, following the grunts and groans and the impossible to miss stench of brimstone. That noxious, sulfurous odor that leaked from Red’s pores when in a killing trance.

At first it was only shadows on a ground, but then he got closer and horror gripped his spine in an icy fist.

Malvena was bound, her body thrashing as Red kneeled on top of her. Black iridescence pulsed from Malvena’s body and Red cried as the black light turned to flames around her.

***

Violet was trapped, unable to break free of the contact as Malvena’s powers siphoned into her. Each vaporous inhale was a blade, ripped her up from the inside.

It was too much. Too much pain. Too much power. Her skin felt like it would rip off her body, she was bloated with darkness, on the verge of an explosion, and still her greedy soul inhaled.

She couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop.

Aunt Mir had knocked Malvena out with a direct bolt of power to her temple, then she’d told Violet to open her mouth.

She convulsed.

“Take it in, Vi, all of it,” Aunt Mir’s words were small, and the pain was so, so large.

Violet willed her body to stop. To close her mouth. Told her brain no more. But she was so hungry. So hungry.

Jerking, fingers digging like claws into Malvena’s tiny shoulders, Violet drank and drank. That dark soul twisted in her gut, churned through her bowels.

Malvena stopped jerking. Her once lovely face now contorted into a wordless scream.

Hands shook Violet.

“Stop...ple...”

Something hot and wet seeped from her nose and ears.

“Nay, stop...” A deep burr, a desperate growl.

Ewan.

For a moment joy replaced the fear. With one final pull, Violet inhaled the last of the dark fairies soul. A mummy stared back at her, desiccated skin covered a tiny pile of bones, then erupted in a giant tower of flame. Fire licked at Violet’s face, but she didn’t pull back, even as she sizzled and burned.

She was going to die.

The madness, the darkness, it spread insidiously to her head, through her veins, down her legs. She screamed. Clawing at her skin to relieve the sensation of a million ants biting, before it drove her mad.

“Get it out,” she cried, doubled over as the agony of a bloated belly ready to rupture, drove her to pound her fists on the ground.

Smoke began to billow from her fingers, out her nose. Her insides quaked, churned like a pot of boiling stew. Eyes burning, she racked her fingers down her face.

She pleaded, begged, not knowing what words came out of her mouth. Then large hands gripped the corners of her face and a pair of lips slammed down on hers. She screamed her agony into its mouth, shoving the alien power down, down, down.

Clutching tight to a savaged back, she sunk her nails in while the violence poured out. The agony turned to relief as the twisted soul transferred out of her body.

“Red.” The voice was gentle, so soft. More a breath of sound.

Ewan. She trembled, he’d found her. Saved her. Love you. Love you so much, she thought over and over even as she poured more and more death into him.

She didn’t notice his tight hands growing slack on her waist, letting Malvena go felt so good. She could breathe again, see again. Violet opened her eyes and stared into a sunken pair of golden ones.

Finally noticing how lax his mouth was on hers, she jerked back. The corners of his eyes were sliced open, bloody tears tracked down the sides of his nose. He was a mass of bruises and cuts. Purple skin mottled the bronze.

“Ewan,” she cried when he collapsed on top of her.

She barely had enough strength to brace his heavy weight.

“He’s fine, Vi,” Aunt Mir’s stern voice filled with compassion. “Ye did well, and so did he.”

“He’s dying,” Violet cried, running her fingers through his matted hair, remembering the agony of being filled with that level of malevolence and power.

“Nay, girl,” Aunt Mir’s large blue eyes blinked solemnly back at her. “Nay. He’s a wolf. His body will expel her poison.”

Ewan’s forehead was wet, and with more than just sweat. A strange oily residue coated her fingers. He was shaking, teeth grinding as his back arced and muscles jerked.

Violet held onto him, grateful beyond words for what he’d done, praying to the gods Aunt Mir was right and the poison would leave his body. She kissed his clammy cheek, his forehead, and nose. Uncaring that he tasted bitter, or that a hint of what’d possessed her, now leaked through him. She wanted him to know she was here, just as he’d been for her.

A strange gurgling sound rumbled from his gut, and then he moaned. Knowing what was coming, Violet turned his face.

Ewan shuddered, retching over and over and over. It seemed impossible that he could spew up so much, but it just kept coming—a steady stream of sparkling black substance.

Tears blinded her vision.

“He’s okay, Violet.” The one named Danika patted her arm gently. “He’ll live.”

She sniffed, and nodded. “I know, it’s just...”

Danika’s blue eyes were kind, her face motherly. So different from the cruel mask she’d worn when grappling with Malvena. “He still loves you.”

A choking sob gripped her, and she shuddered through her tears as he continued to release all of the Black’s power.

She’d put him through so much, tried to kill him, herself. Why would he ever care for her? How could he? She couldn’t have. In fact, she’d hated him for decades, each day letting the hatred fester and boil into a wound so deep, she’d refused to listen. Almost killing any chance she’d ever had at happiness.

Violet was a bad person. Who would want to love that?

She stroked his sweaty forehead. “I’m so sorry, Ewan. I believe you. I trust you. I’m sorry I couldn’t say it before. But you have to be okay. You have to... Because I... I want to know you. I want to mate you too.”

Finally he stopped. Taking deep cleansing breaths before, with a loud moan, he turned to glance at her. A crooked smile curved his cracked lips. “I’d do it again, to hear ye say that.”

She smiled and nuzzled the top of his head. “It’s true.”

“Well, alls well that ends well. Is it not, Mir?” Danika’s voice was light, happy.

Violet smiled and Ewan nodded. “Thank the gods,” they said in unison.

Ewan low crawled away from the glistening puddle that’d now began to froth like a witch’s brew.

Miriam stood silent, a sad smile on her face. Her hair was now fully white, her skin so aged it immediately sent a chill down Violet’s spine. She’d been so worried with seeing to Ewan, she hadn’t noticed her Aunt.

“Aunt Mir?” She stood on shaky legs. “What’s happened to you?”

Ewan’s strong warm hands clamped down on Violet’s shoulder. She leaned into him, comforted by his solid presence.

Danika gasped. “Miriam.”

Miriam fell to her knees, her head hung low and her entire frame seemed to literally wither before their eyes. In the span of seconds she was aging rapidly, skin turning spotted and livered. Clumps of hair began to fall in patches. She turned bloodshot eyes toward Danika.

Danika fell to her knees, her wand was in her hand and she blasted a pink bolt at Miriam’s head. “Return to what you once were,” she said in a voice that shook.

Mir chuckled, the sound ancient and threaded through with feebleness. “It’s okay, Dani. Truly, sister.”

Fat tears dripped from Danika’s nose. Violet’s throat seized up, and a sound like an animal dying wailed from her throat. Ewan grabbed her, pulling her to his bloodied chest, crooning softly in her ears.

Danika pulled Miriam’s head to her bosom, rocking back and forth.

“What have you done, Mir? What have you done? You said you were strong enough to hold her? You said—”

“Ssh. Donna fash yerself,” Aunt Mir closed her eyes, “it wasn’t just this, sister. I’m tired. For centuries I battled time outside our realm, keeping Malvena contained was simply the straw, Dani.”

“But you said we’d hide, we’d travel—”

“No, sister,” Aunt Mir’s voice was reed thin, a barely there whisper, “ye did.” She touched Danika’s cheek. “The roses, Dani, remember the roses.”

“What?” Danika was sobbing now, large waterworks fell down her face. She sniffled, wiping her nose.

Ewan’s soothing up and down motion on Violet’s back grounded her, kept her sane in a world that felt like it was beginning to unravel around her.

“Grab my hand tight, now,” Aunt Mir said, urgency lent her weak voice strength.

Danika held on, and then she gasped when the black bolt of Malvena’s power headed like a missile straight towards them.

It whistled past Violet’s ears, she shivered at its passing.

The Black power was headed for Danika’s wide blue eyes. The Black was one of the Ten, the power could never fully be killed or contained. It needed a host and would not be denied.

With trembling fingers, Aunt Miriam pulled her wand from her pocket and touched the tip of one of Danika’s knuckles just as the black bolt met her face. A wash of pink energy exited the tip of Miriam’s wand.

“To me,” Miriam wheezed, and then the power flowed like a conduit from Danika into her. Miriam cried out, smiling as the energy filled her skin, making her glow from the inside out with differing shades of black and pearl.

Suddenly her hair began to regrow, turning a deep luscious mahogany as a rosy flush filled her cheeks. Her skin firmed up and with a happy sigh, Aunt Mir opened beautiful lavender eyes.

“Mir!” Danika cried, wrapping her up in her arms. “I thought you were dying. Oh, blessed be, sister. Blessed be.”

Aunt Miriam smiled and Violet sobbed, but this time with relief.

“You’re one of the Ten now, of course. It all makes sense. Galeta can never force you into bondage. How foolish I was... how—”

Miriam hushed Danika with a swift shake of her head. “Nay, sister. I’m here but for a short time.”

“But, Aunt Mir, how can you say that?” Violet interjected, her heart returning to its normal rhythm. Safe in Ewan’s arms. “You’re so healthy and perfect.”

Ewan’s Adam’s apple bobbed along the top of her head when his deep voice cut in. “Because the Black corrupts all it touches, Red.” There was a tenderness to his words, like he was trying to break it to her easy.

Aunt Mir’s lips quirked. “Aye.”

“Wha?” Violet glanced from his face to hers and back again.

But finally she saw what her joy hadn’t registered before; black had begun to bleed through Aunt Mir’s eyes, overtaking the lovely lavender.

“In three or four centuries,” Aunt Miriam said, “I’ll be worse than Malvena. The power grows worse, never better. It doesn’t matter that my heart is pure now, hers was too. Once. There’s only one way to contain the Black.”

“I won’t kill you!” Danika shouted, her eyes were bloodshot, her lips trembled.

“I donna want ye too, sister. I knew when I choose this path all those moons ago, that this was where I’d end up.” She touched the tip of her wand to her chest, the power flowing out of it was black as shadow now. “I’ve chosen my path.”

“No, Mir. No.” Danika shook her head, grasping onto her Aunt’s shoulders.

“We won, Dani. We kept my girl safe. It’s over now. I’m so tired, could ye deny me the rest?”

Danika bit her lip and Violet buried her nose in Ewan’s chest. She couldn’t look, couldn’t face whatever was about to happen.

“No, Mir, I can’t.” Danika’s soft words tickled Violet’s ears.

“Aunt Mir,” Violet whispered.

Eyes, nearly entirely black, glanced at her kindly. Her Aunt looked so young, so beautiful. As she’d remembered her in the beginning. Her Aunt had held her when she cried at night, read to her when storms raged beyond their home, cooked, cleaned... loved her.

“I love you.” She didn’t say the words so much as breathe them from the depths of her heart.

Aunt Miriam nodded, a serene smile graced plump pink lips.

Heart shattering, Violet squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could crawl inside Ewan’s skin, nestle always in the warmth of his body. Forget this night, the look of acceptance in her Aunt’s eyes. Her Aunt had a stubborn streak, she might seem meek and mild, but when Miriam set her mind to something, she’d never veered off her course.

Violet hiccupped, gulping down the hot ball in her throat.

“Ssh, Red,” Ewan crooned, his hand trailing fire and goose bumps along her skin. Over and over his hand ran up and down, down and up.

Violet lost herself in the hypnotic rhythm. Ignoring the bright flare of light behind her lids. She wouldn’t look. Couldn’t see what her Aunt had done to herself.

“Oh, Mir,” Danika sniffed. “My sister, my sister.”

“It is done, Red.” Ewan’s warm breath caressed the side of her neck.

Terrified, she took a deep breath, and like ripping off a band-aid, looked.

Danika was kneeling, murmuring softly to the earth.

“Where did she go?” Violet pleaded, glancing around, desperate to see her Aunt. But there wasn’t a trace of her in the trees. She’d gone, vanished.

Ewan led her toward a softly crying Danika.

Violet frowned, glancing at him, a question on her tongue, when she noticed Danika gently cradling a black seedling. Its long stem swayed in the gentle breeze.

Danika looked at her. “The roses, now I know what she meant.”

Reaching out a hand, Violet silently asked to hold the seedling. With a trembling shudder, Danika passed it—almost reverently—to her.

Violet ran her finger along the smooth stem.

“The tree is a giver of life. Though full of dark magic, its wooden heart will always remain pure,” Ewan whispered.

Danika knuckled tears from her eyes. “Miriam did know how to contain the Black’s soul. Her sacrifice will not be in vain. I will plant her in the roses. It’s what she wanted.”

Violet wasn’t sure, but when she closed her eyes, it felt like her Aunt’s voice filled her head with a bell like strain and the words: I love you too.

Chapter 18

Violet ran, bare feet kicking up stones. Her heart pounded. Snow fell in thick clusters. She couldn’t escape him. He was so close.

Then she heard him.

He was running, panting.

“No,” she yelped, and then he was on her, tackling her to the ground.

White light exploded off his body like flames, then Ewan was kissing her face, her nose, her chin. Growling as his hard erection drove into her thigh.

“I won,” he snarled, voice more beast than man, and he nipped her chin.

She laughed, blood singing, adrenaline pumping. “No fair. I told you to give me a ten second head start.”

Golden eyes glowed in the deep twilight. “I lied.”

“Oh, who cares,” she moaned, desire coiling down her stomach, making her toes curl.

His body was warm, like a thermal blanket, heating her even as the snow drifted lazily around them.

It’d been a year since that night, a year of laughs, sadness, and hope. Hope because Violet knew she was more than the darkness inside her. Ewan had showed her. Loved her.

“I adore ye, Red,” he whispered in between trailing hot kisses along her throat.

She thrust her hips up, excited by the friction of his skin rubbing along hers. Wet and ready, she moaned.

“I love you too, Ewan. Always.”

She bit him, just like he liked it. Marking the spot above his heart with her teeth. He hissed, and thrust harder.

“You’re mine. All mine,” she said, pressing a kiss against the bite.

He tugged on her nipple, and she arced, gently scraping her nails on his head.

Desire flooded her, made her moan and groan. Her nails pierced the sensitive skin of his skull.

He growled, white teeth bright in the liquid moonlight.

She traced the curve of his lips. “My, what big teeth you have.”

Ewan snapped them at her. “The better to eat ye with, my dear.”

Violet laughed, a sound of pure unadulterated joy. “Then what are you waiting for? Need you now,” she mumbled, dizzy with pleasure.

“Mmm, like this,” he rumbled, deep voice a hot caress against her breasts.

Then his hot hard length slipped inside and Violet rocked on him, riding the spiraling staircase that would take her beyond the here, above the clouds.

“Forever,” he whispered.

And that’s just how she wanted it. In his arms, making love... forever.

Epilogue

Danika touched the large oak tree. A thicket of roses surrounded its gnarled black base. Galeta had been furious that Miriam had outwitted her. But it was a victory Danika could not rejoice in.

It was a wound to know her friend was lost to her forever. All that remained was a gnarled old oak.

“Thank you, Mir. Thank you for loving like you do, for protecting that girl. Ewan is madly in love and Violet feels the same. I planted more roses last week. Not sure if you noticed.” She sniffed. “They’re blacks, I thought they were appropriate.”

She sighed, glancing at the wild abundance of roses. Every night since planting her best friend within the small rose garden, she’d returned and planted one new rose. There were whites, reds, yellows, orange, pinks, creams... an explosion of color that she knew Mir would have wanted.

“I love you, sister. I’ll never forget. But I must return to the mortal realm, Jinni’s mate is in trouble. I know all will be well, but...” Danika stuttered as the fresh pain lanced through her heart. “I must go, dear. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

She stood, dusted off her spider silk skirt, and grabbed her pouch of fairy dust. Sprinkling the gold flecks liberally on the garden.

The roses swiveled, blinking rose colored eyes gratefully back at her. They never talked here, as if they knew that were rooted on sacred ground.

“You’re welcome,” she murmured to them, then patted the tree one last time.

Heat infused her palm and in her heart, she knew Miriam had thanked her too.

~*~

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Cheshire’s So Ono Poke:

Ingredients

4-ounce ahi, diced (Hawaiian tuna)

1/8-ounce chives, chopped

1/4-ounce ginger, finely chopped

1/8 teaspoon Hawaiian chili pepper
1/2 teaspoon chopped ogo (fresh seaweed, if you can find it, if not dry will do, but not too much or you’ll taste nothing but seaweed)
1/2-ounce sesame oil, for taste
Hawaiian alae (red sea salt)

Directions

Cut Ahi into small cubes and mix all the ingredients together. Serves 4.

Hansel and Gretel’s Gingerbread Cookies:

(Tastes Best When Served by a Witch!)

The dough must be chilled for at least three hours and up to two days. The cookies can be prepared up to one week ahead, stored in an airtight container at room temperature. When the dough is rolled thin, it will bake crisp and almost cracker-like. Yet, when rolled thick, the cookies turn out plump and moist. In either case, the flavor will be complex and almost hot-spicy.

Ingredients

3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
3/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly milled black pepper
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/4 cup vegetable shortening, at room temperature
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
2/3 cup unsulfured molasses
1 large egg
Royal Icing (recipe follows)

Directions

Position the racks in the top and bottom thirds of the oven and preheat to 350 degrees F.

Sift the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, allspice, cloves, salt and pepper through a wire sieve into a medium bowl. Set aside.

In a large bowl, using a hand-held electric mixer at high speed, beat the butter and vegetable shortening until well-combined, about 1 minute. Add the brown sugar and beat until the mixture is light in texture and color, about 2 minutes. Beat in the molasses and egg. Using a wooden spoon, gradually mix in the flour mixture to make a stiff dough. Divide the dough into two thick disks and wrap each disk in plastic wrap. Refrigerate until chilled, about 3 hours. (The dough can be prepared up to 2 days ahead.)

To roll out the cookies, work with one disk at a time, keeping the other disk refrigerated. Remove the dough from the refrigerator and let stand at room temperature until just warm enough to roll out without cracking, about 10 minutes. (If the dough has been chilled for longer than 3 hours, it may need a few more minutes.) Place the dough on a lightly floured work surface and sprinkle the top of the dough with flour. Roll out the dough 1/8 inch thick, being sure that the dough isn't sticking to the work surface (run a long meal spatula or knife under the dough occasionally just to be sure, and dust the surface with more flour, if needed). For softer cookies, roll out slightly thicker. Using cookie cutters, cut out the cookies and transfer to nonstick cookie sheets, placing the cookies 1 inch apart. Gently knead the scraps together and form into another disk. Wrap and chill for 5 minutes before rolling out again to cut out more cookies.

Bake, switching the positions of the cookies from top to bottom and back to front halfway through baking, until the edges of the cookies are set and crisp, 10 to 12 minutes. Cool on the sheets for 2 minutes, then transfer to wire cake racks to cool completely. Decorate with Royal Icing. (The cookies can be prepared up to 1 week ahead, stored in airtight containers at room temperature.)

ROYAL ICING
1 pound (4 1/2 cups) confectioners' sugar
2 tablespoons dried egg-white powder
6 tablespoons water

Make ahead: The icing can prepared up to 2 days ahead, stored in an airtight container with a moist paper towel pressed directly on the icing surface, and refrigerated.

This icing hardens into shiny white lines, and is used for piping decorations on gingerbread people or other cookies. Traditional royal icing uses raw egg whites, but I prefer dried egg-white powder, available at most supermarkets, to avoid any concern about uncooked egg whites.

When using a pastry bag, practice your decorating skills before you ice the cookies. Just do a few trial runs to get the feel of the icing and the bag, piping the icing onto aluminum foil or wax paper. If you work quickly, you can use a metal spatula to scrape the test icing back into the batch.

In a medium bowl, using a hand-held electric mixer at low speed, beat the confectioners' sugar, egg-white powder and water until combined. Increase the speed to high and beat, scraping down the sides of the bowl often, until very stiff, shiny and thick enough to pipe; 3 to 5 minutes. (The icing can be prepared up to 2 days ahead, stored in an airtight container with a moist paper towel pressed directly on the icing surface, and refrigerated.)

To pipe line decorations, use a pastry bag fitted with a tube with a small writing tip about 1/8-inch wide, such as Ateco No. 7; it may be too difficult to squeeze the icing out of smaller tips. If necessary, thin the icing with a little warm water. To fill the pastry bag, fit it with the tube. Fold the top of the bag back to form a cuff and hold it in one hand. (Or, place the bag in a tall glass and fold the top back to form a cuff.) Using a rubber spatula, scoop the icing into the bag. Unfold the cuff and twist the top of the bag closed. Squeeze the icing down to fill the tube. Always practice first on a sheet of wax paper or aluminum foil to check the flow and consistency of the icing.

Traditional Royal Icing: Substitute 3 large egg whites for the powder and water.

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Sneak Peek: Jinni’s Wish

Chapter 1

“What kind of name is that?” Paz Lopez hopped on one bare foot, while simultaneously gripping the cell phone with her chin as she attempted to slip her blood red pump on; very nearly breaking her neck in the process when she stumbled over the corner of her cream shag rug. “Dang it,” she hissed.

She could already picture Richard rolling his eyes on the other end of the line. “Diabolique.”

This time, she was the one to roll her eyes. Plopping down on the edge of her unmade bed, doing what her father used to always say: work smarter, not harder. So much easier to put shoes on when sitting, instead of hopping around like a broken jack in the box.

“I heard you the first time. But that doesn’t sound like any kind of carnival I’d want to visit. Sounds creepy.”

“Aww, come on, chicken. Todd and I are going and it’s sorta lame that all you ever want to do on a Friday night is vegg in front of that dinosaur you call a t.v. and down 2.2 glasses of vino.”

She loved her brother, she really did. But ugh... she rubbed her nose, stomach churning with nerves and irritation. Now was so not the time to be talking about carnivals, or whatever the hell this Diabolique place was. She had an art show in an hour, today was her make it or break it day. It’d taken months for the hottest gallery in town: Moderne, to even agree to potentially hosting an exhibit for her.

Of course they hadn’t. She was too new. But she had a friend, who knew a friend, who knew a guy who had an exhibit scheduled and was in need of ten more paintings to fill the space. Fast forward several boxes of tissues, lots of chocolate, and probably two (okay three) bottles of champagne later, Paz was here. Ready to break out. Become a name. Finally.

If only her stupid nerves would settle down and stop making her feel like she was totally going to puke all over her pearl gray goose down comforter. Pinching her nose, she counted slowly to ten. But only got to three before Richard starting acting obnoxious as usual.

“I know you’re there. I hear you breathing.” He proceeded to pantomime harsh deep breaths. “Answer me, or I will stalk you. I know where you liiiiveee.”

Giggling, she yanked her purple head pillow off the bed and shoved it against her stomach. Maybe pressure would ease the knee knocking nerves. “You’re really annoying.”

He snorted. “Yeah, well Todd loves it. So tell me you’re coming.”

Paz shoved about a week’s worth of bras underneath her bed and lifted the teal shirt off the lampshade she’d tossed aside carelessly last night. Jeez, she was really a slob. Maybe when she got filthy stinking rich she could afford a maid.

“Are you coming to my show?” She plucked at her bejeweled skirt. Her first and only attempt at making clothes. Skirts were supposedly so easy to make.

Lie.

She’d had to undo the stitching four times before she felt certain she wouldn’t zip it up and have a wardrobe malfunction. Namely having the stupid thing fall down around her ankles when she stepped off her elevator into the lobby of her swank Chicago digs.

Though swank was sorta stretching it. She wasn’t sure the 500 square foot broom closet she currently called home could ever be considered swank, but she had a great address in the hippest part of town and with any luck, she’d be moving to that penthouse suite after tonight.

“We wouldn’t miss it.” His voice was warm, reassuring, and Paz couldn’t help but smile. She loved her brother. “But Todd told me to ask you now, because we both know how you get when you’re talking about your art.”

“No I don’t.” She tossed the pillow away, fiddling with the large cream flower on her black cable knit sweater.

“Pfft. I didn’t even have to tell you how you act and you’re already defending it. So answer, sis. I’m not growing any younger.”

“Fine.” She stood, grabbing her purse and wallet off her green distressed thrift store night stand. “I’ll go butt face. But I won’t promise to like it, so there.”

“You don’t have to like it, but you do have to visit Madam Pandora’s tent with me. Bye!”

“What?” Her brows dipped, but all she heard was the buzz of an empty line.

Rolling her eyes, she patted her flat blunt bangs and took a deep breath, ready to face her future. Her stomach nosedived. Well, unless she had to puke first.

***

The Chicago fairgrounds were magical at night. Neon lights lit up the park like a fireworks display. Crowds clamored from one red and white pinstriped tent to the next. Buttery scent of popcorn wafted in the air, tickling her nose.

“Mmm, I’m hungry,” Paz groaned when her stomach growled.

Todd’s expressive light brown eyes twinkled merrily as he hugged her against his broad chest. A good foot taller than her, with chestnut brown hair, and tanned good looks. Gorgeous and so her type, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was totally off the market.

“On me then,” he said, voice light and carefree. “A treat for my favorite artist...”

Richard gripped Todd’s waist, dark brown eyes glowing merrily, rich mocha skin gleaming shades of bronze beneath the neon glow of the Ferris Wheel. Perpetual black cowlick shading the corner of his left eye. “The only artist you know,” he finished, digging into Todd’s chest.

Todd clamped onto Richard’s hand and kissed the knuckle. A look passing between them that made Paz’s knees turn to jelly. What would it feel like to have someone look at her that way? Not that she was old, only 27, but still, long enough to crave what she’d never known.

There’d been passion, maybe some toe curling moments with past boyfriends, but nothing that had ever stuck beyond month six. Maybe she was cursed.

But she’d sold all ten of her paintings. She smiled, biting her bottom lip... well on her way toward that maid she’d always dreamed of. So maybe not that cursed.

“Okay, I’m so gonna barf if you guys keep looking at each other like that.”

Todd smirked, patting her head like she was a dog.

So not cool.

She gave him the evil eye. “Not a dog, Todd. Go get me my popcorn,” she clapped her hands, “and make it a large. With butter. Momma’s got a serious hankering from some greasy fat tonight.”

Todd saluted and winked. “Anything for you, baby?”

Richard shrugged. “Trying to watch my carbs. Whatever you have I’ll share.” Then he sighed, a silly mopey I’m-so-incredibly-happy kind of sound and again Paz couldn’t help feeling like the third wheel.

“I love him,” Richard whispered, like he wasn’t even really saying it to her.

She nodded, tucking his cowlick back. “I know. Aren’t you sure you’d rather me, yanno, be home and stuff tonight? I mean, this is your one year anniversary. Why in the world would you want me here? Shouldn’t you be bow-chica-wow...”

Richard tugged on the end of her thick black hair.

“Hey, ouch!” Paz slapped his hand away.

“You’re disgusting. And no. He loves you as much as I do. Besides, Madam Pandora’s awaits.”

A cool rush brushed against Paz’s legs. She was wearing thick stockings, and had traded in the killer pumps for a more ankle friendly pair of sparkling silver flats, but she probably should have grabbed a thicker jacket.

Even with the sweater underneath, she was still starting to shiver.

She grumped. “Why do you want me to go there so bad? What is it anyway?”

Glancing around, Paz frowned. The carnival was definitely as creepy as she’d expected it to be from the sound of the name. Diabolique, made her think of devil. Coming from a strict Catholic upbringing, anything to do with Mr. Red, Bad, and Evil still made her skin get the creepy crawlies.

Not to mention the carnival was just strange looking. Aside from the garish striped tents, and neon lights, the rides were all black. Thick, dark black. Blending into shadow if not for the lights affixed to the rides.

At first she’d had a mini heart attack when they’d bought their tickets, thinking maybe this night wouldn’t suck so hard after all. The man selling them behind the booth had been hot. No scratch that, he was way hotter than hot. Which sounded really lame, but how else could she describe the panty melting smile of his straight white teeth. The artfully arranged blond surfer hair, like liquid gold the way it’d gleamed beneath the light. And his face, oh man... she couldn’t paint something so pretty. High cheekbones and hard square jaw, dimples when he’d grinned.

But then she’d looked at his eyes—glowing green eyes—and something inside her had shrunk away from letting him touch her when he’d handed her the change. She’d been pretty sure those hadn’t been contacts.

And what was even weirder about this carnival was that everyone one looked just like him. Well, not just like him. But everyone working here was hot. Uber, smokin’, ‘I’d sell my firstborn to have wild monkey sex with you’ kind of hot. And they all had strange glowing eyes.

Which seemed to phase Todd and her brother not at all.

“Hello!” Richard snapped his fingers, making her jerk. “Did you hear a word I said?”

She grimaced. “Umm...”

He gripped his forehead. “That’s a no. I said,” he stressed the ‘d’, “that I want you to go because Brody and Luke came here last night and they said they got their fortunes told and it came true.”

Paz snorted. “Oh my gosh, that’s ridiculous. You do know that’s stupid, right? They’re all quacks out here.”

He looked hurt, and then annoyed. Richard shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “You’re coming and I don’t want to hear boo about it.”

“Boo about what?” Todd planted a peck on Richard’s cheek.

The effect was instantaneous. Richard smiled, leaning back into Todd’s large chest.

“Mmm, popcorn.” Paz reached with greedy fingers for the steaming brown paper sack Todd handed her. “Yummy, yummy, yummy. Love,” she plopped a warm, buttery kernel in her mouth and groaned, “love, love, popcorn.”

Richard grabbed one out of her bag and tossed it at her nose. She swatted at it.

“And you say I’m weird. At least I’ve never written an ode to my food before.”

She stuck out her tongue.

“So are we going?” Todd asked, taking a bite out of his fried twinkie.

White cream oozed out the side and Richard moaned. “Fried twinkie, Todd? Cruel.”

Todd laughed.

Richard rolled his eyes. “My baby sister insists Madam Pandora is a quack.”

“You know what,” Todd said, and then took another bite, Richard swallowed hard, brown eyes wide as he stared at that twinkie like it was his lover.

Paz knew her brother was drooling, twinkies were his kryptonite. Todd was cruel. Which was probably why she loved him so much, he made her brother suffer. As he should.

“I totally thought so too, but then when Luke told me what she said, you can’t fake that.”

Wrinkling her nose, Paz nibbled on a piece of popcorn. That’d gotten her attention. “What happened?”

Growling, Richard stole the last bite of twinkie from Todd’s fingers and popped into his mouth with a so-there look.

Smirking, Todd licked his lips. “She told him that he’d forgotten to pay his electric bill and that when they got home the power would be off.”

Snorting, feeling pieces of kernel jam in her throat, Paz coughed and then chuckled, wheezing around the bits still caught in there. So lame, she’d expected maybe Madam Quack would have said they’d be struck by lightning, or their dog would be run over. Electric bill? Get serious. She wiped tears from her eyes, ghost of a laugh still on her tongue. “Duh, she works for the power company after hours. Totally doable.”

Richard rolled his eyes. “Paz, I came to your art show. Now you’re coming with us.”

Shoulders slumping, she licked the buttery goodness off her tongue. “Richard, seriously, that sounds so lame and I don’t want to blow ten bucks on something like that.”

Todd and Richard shared a glance. A wordless conversation passing between them that always made her both jealous and happy. She wanted that so bad, it was a desperate yearning in the pit of her gut, the depths of her heart. But she couldn’t deny how happy it made her to know her brother now had it. He deserved it. Though she’d die before ever telling him that.

“We’ll pay,” they said at the same time.

One dark hand and one light hand gripped her elbows, steering her (willing or not) toward Madam Quack’s tent.

“Ugh,” she groaned.

Ten minutes later she was staring into the deep lavender eyes of the most gorgeous woman she’d ever seen. Midnight oil black hair, smooth alabaster skin, and the plumpest red lips that would have made even Steven Tyler green with envy.

Add to that that Madam Quack wasn’t wearing a gold lamay turban, purple silk robe, or looking into a crystal ball. Paz felt totally out of her element—hard to laugh at someone when they looked as sane and gorgeous as Madam Pandora did.

The tent was low lit a dark red, casting strange undulations upon the tarp walls. Paz gripped the wooden arms of the plush, floral patterned chair she sat on.

Pandora (because Paz refused to think of her as Madam Pandora any longer) sat in front of her, long legs crossed. Sparkling black cocktail dress draping like bats wings to either side of her. Red lips pursed and staring at Paz with an intense gleam in her strange colored eyes.

“Your brothers want you to be happy.”

Paz licked her lips. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out, especially considering Pandora had very likely seen them drag her inside, ordering Paz to stay put or the popcorn got it.

“But you’re successful, you made a lot of money tonight.”

Paz narrowed her eyes.

“Paintings, was it?” Pandora cocked her head, feathers on top of her tiny hat flopped forward.

“Oh please, this is insane,” Paz shook her head, “you probably heard one of them mention it. Why do you waste people’s money this way?”

Pandora smiled. “Because you’ll come. Though,” she cocked her head, “I’m very good at what I do.”

“I’m sure you are.”

What a waste of her time and Todd’s money. Paz stood, ready to head back out.

“Sit down,” Pandora’s voice brooked no argument, a shiver of heat zipped down Paz’s spine. Not fear, not exactly, but wariness.

She sat.

Pandora tapped blood red fingernails on her knee. “Go to Alaska.”

“What?” Paz snorted. “Alaska? Are you nuts? What’s in Alaska?”

“He is.”

Paz’s heart skipped a beat. He, as in he. The one? Prince Charming? Her Todd?

“Yes. The one. You’re Prince Charming. You’re Todd.”

Her mouth flopped open. Probably wasn’t pretty, but holy freaking cow bat man, how had she done that? “I didn’t say that—”

“Out loud?” Pandora lifted a pencil thin brow. “You didn’t have to. I told you, I’m good at what I do.”

Heart thudding almost painfully in her chest, Paz’s left leg began to bounce up and down. So many different reasons why that was a cracked up idea floated through her mind.

Pandora pressed her lips into a thin line. “Stop over thinking this, Paz...”

“Wait?” She held up a hand. “How do you know my name? I didn’t tell you—”

She waved her hand. “You need to go. He needs you, he’s waiting. And he doesn’t have much time left.”

“Alaska?” Her voice sounded strained. Why was she even listening to this woman? This was so stupid. Totally dumb. And yet... “Where in Alaska?”

“Book a flight to Anchorage.” Pandora leaned forward, intense eyes never swerving from Paz’s face. “You have to leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” she squeaked. “This is nuts. You’re crazy. I’m crazy.” She laughed, voice sounding totally unlike hers. So why was she suddenly sweating, suddenly desperate to believe this lie?

“He’s dying, Paz, and only you can save him. If you don’t leave tomorrow, it’ll be over. He’ll be over.”

Something close to pain hammered behind her closed lids. Paz squeezed her arm rests, nails digging in so hard she felt one break.

“You’re... lying?”

Pandora shook her head. “I never lie.”

***

How had she wound up here? Thirty thousand feet up in the air, flying to Alaska? Alaska of all places! Paz had gone to sleep last night, desperate to forget it all. But an ache, a gnawing need for truth, had begun to bloom in her chest.

What if it was true? So she’d be out a couple hundred bucks—which would make her royally pissed, since she’d been saving for a screen press—if it wasn’t true. But there’d been dreams last night. Lots of them.

A blue faced man, features distorted, but with hope shining in liquid black eyes. She’d woken up in tears and within seconds phoning the airport to confirm a roundtrip ticket to Anchorage.

Turbulence seized the plane and she yelped, biting down on her lower lip hard as her gut toppled to her knees. She hated flying.

Hated. It.

Why oh why, was she doing this? Time away from the carnival, the dream, made her think suddenly this was the stupidest idea she’d ever had. Richard and Todd had certainly been shocked, for a brief thirty minutes their wide eyes had made her feel brave, powerful. But now... the plane dipped, and she flopped in her seat, now she was just scared.

From the moment she’d stepped foot on the plane she’d gotten a strange sense of something being off kilter. Weird. But she’d ignored it, thinking she was just being the chicken Richard always accused her of being.

So she’d found her seat, not needing the compartment space, she’d packed light.

Literally she was flying to Anchorage with tickets back the very next day. Why had she done this?

She groaned when another round of turbulence tilted the plane.

She had no idea what she was looking for. Who she was looking for. She’d scanned the faces boarding her flight with an obsessive need to know if maybe one of them was Mr. Wonderful.

Then he’d sat next to her.

Heart pounding, trying to hold down the saltine crackers she’d gnoshed on earlier, she glanced at tall, dark, and decadent sitting next to her. He was gorgeous.

Bronze skin two shades darker than her own, dark unruly hair that curled against the nape of his neck, and liquid black eyes. The eyes had made her think of her dream. It hadn’t been a huge stretch for her to think maybe it’d been him.

So she’d waved, and smiled.

He’d sat next to her, his delicious scent of clover and moss, teasing her senses. Paz had waited for the friendly smile in return. Nothing.

Like he’d not even seen her.

When the attendants had taken drink orders, he’d ignored her too.

He didn’t read, didn’t move, didn’t do a single thing. Which totally creeped her out. Stepford wife, or husband in this case, total weirdo.

The plane jolted again, this time listing deep to the side.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the pilot’s voice came on over the loudspeakers, “please put your trays in the upright and locked positions, we seem to be experiencing a bit of turbulence—”

“Oh sh—” the co-pilot cried and then there was static.

But that wasn’t the worst part, because now the plane was dipping forward, faster and faster.

Suddenly Mr. Creepy latched onto her hand, squeezing tight.

“Look at me,” he said, and oh man, so embarrassing that as they’re crashing and getting ready to become nothing but a memory, all she could focus on was the flutter of her stomach at the sound of his whiskey deep voice.

Adrenaline spiked her veins, kids and women screamed. Oxygen masks dropped from the rough turbulence that shook her around like a rag doll.

“You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine,” he said and she nodded.

His eyes were so beautiful. Not black like she’d first thought, but a deep inky well full of stardust. His thumb caressed her knuckles, and she knew fire seeped through her skin, deep into bone.

A strange whistling rang loud in her ears. Paz lifted up on her toes, wishing she could run away. “It’s just like the movies,” she whispered.

He licked his lips and man they were nice. Thick and begging to be sucked on. “What?” he said.

Tears crept into the corners of her eyes as her stomach bottomed out. A baby was crying. “The sound of death.”

His touch was so nice. So real and warm.

“My Todd,” she whispered as her vision blurred. He was looking at her, with an ache, a soul deep connection.

She’d finally gotten it.

Paz screamed when the plane pitched on its side. His grip tightened.

“Close your eyes, Paz,” he whispered.

How did he know her name?

Glancing over her shoulder, he licked his lips, and she didn’t miss the dilation of his pupils.

“We’re close aren’t we?” She knew they were, gravity was pinning her against the seat. The ground had to be only seconds away. Her body shuddered, tightened with goose bumps. Death breathed down her neck.

“Close your eyes, head on your knees. I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

She dug her nails into his fist, but he didn’t flinch.

“What’s your name?” she breathed, back of her neck tightening.

They were close, within a second of crashing. The plane unnaturally quiet as people prayed, cried softly, or closed their eyes and waited for the inevitable.

His smile was so achingly real, alive. She sniffled, throat working back a hot tide of tears.

“Tristan Black.”

Nodding, she dropped her head to her knees and squeezed her eyes shut. Her fingers still threaded through the hard strength of his.

She’d finally found him. Prince Charming.

So not fair.

There was a deafening whistle and then nothing else.

~*~

Jinni’s Wish is out now! Love my worlds? Want to know when my latest releases will be available? Then make sure to sign up for my newsletter!

Books by Marie Hall

Kingdom Series: Fairy Tale Romance

Her Mad Hatter (Book 1)

Gerard’s Beauty (Book 2)

Red and Her Wolf (Book 3)

Jinni’s Wish (Book 4)

Hook’s Pan (Book 5)

Danika’s Surprise (Novelette, 5.5)

Dark Princess Kingdom Saga

Moon’s Flower (Book 6)

The Huntsman’s Prey (Book 7)

Rumple’s Prize (Book 8)

Hood’s Obsession (Book 9, coming July 2014)

Eternal Lovers Paranormal Romance

Death’s Lover (Book 1)

Death’s Redemption (Book 2)

Available now!

Chaos Time Series: YA Time Travel Serial

Sable (Book 1)

Slayde (Book 2)

Synnergy (Book 3)

Night Series: Adult Urban Fantasy Series

Crimson Night (Book 1)

All Hallows Night (Book 2)

Howler’s Night (Book 3, coming August 2014)

Moments Series: New Adult Contemporary Romance

A Moment (Book 1)

Right Now (Book 2)

This Time (Book 3)