The Mating Season: Werewolves of Montana Book 6 (22 page)

He shoved the sword deep into the sand. “I told you that one cannot conjure loved ones here, Nikita. Not their actual spirits. But it is possible to create a vision, a hallucination if you will, fashioned from your heart’s desire. And when I was finally ready to move on, I created one for myself. Look.”

She turned in the direction of his pointed finger. The people on the beach suddenly vanished, but for a woman, a man and a child. Then her heart stilled in wonder and sudden grief.

At the shoreline, the dark-haired little boy, clad in a black tunic and black leggings, ran up to greet the waves and then ran back, laughing. The tall, handsome man with shoulder-length black hair caught him up in his arms and hugged him tight.

Tristan.

The woman turned her head slightly to regard them and smiled.

It was
her.

“You created us. As a family.” A lump clogged her throat.

“It was a vision of a future I could not have in the life I left behind, but perhaps I could have in the next life,” he said quietly. “A dream I clung to, and that gave me the reason to finally move on, so I could choose to become reincarnated and find you again in another lifetime.”

She stared at the dark-haired little boy, clinging to his father, who swung him around, and then kissed his cheek.

A fat tear rolled down Niki’s cheek. Another. Dark clouds scudded across the sky and suddenly raindrops began pelting the sand. But the trio at the shoreline did not vanish. They remained in the rain, the golden-haired woman who sat on the sand, watching the adoring father and his laughing son.

Tristan picked up the sword again and the scene vanished. They were back in the forest again, but raindrops still splattered the ground, running in rivulets down the tree trunks to puddle on the loamy earth. He waved a hand and the sword vanished.

Very gently, he reached out and wiped away one of her tears with his thumb. “Do not cry, Nikita. I did not tell you this to bring you distress.”

She pulled away from him, unable to deal with the sudden bout of grief for what they had both lost. They could have lived a good life together, raised a child who would grow strong and happy. But it was pointless to regret.

She’d had enough regrets in her current life.

“That damn Drakon War. It killed too many good people,” she whispered. “And too many dreams.”

“As with all wars, it was not black and white,” he said diplomatically. “It created new dreams. In the end, the shifters won their freedom. The war forced all shifters to unite, something dragons were not doing. It was the unusual friendship I shared with Drust that led the dragon clans to work together as they should.”

And Drust betrayed that friendship. The torture Tristan suffered had been excruciating, but the betrayal was as well. “How long were you here, Tristan?”

“I stayed until the war ended and our people were free. After, Danu appeared to me. The goddess told me she had seen my courage, and my sacrifice. I had a choice. I could ascend to immortality as the Silver Wizard and become the guardian of shifters, or I could remain in Tir Na-nog.”

His powerful shoulders tensed and his jaw became like granite. “After being powerless as King Emer’s captive…it was beyond my wildest dreams. Emer was long dead, sent to the Dark Lands. I could not avenge myself upon King Emer, for he was out of reach. But Drust, oh, I thirsted to have my revenge upon the one who separated me from you, who sold me out for gold.”

The Dark Lands, the Hell for Others. She wondered why Drust hadn’t gone there, too. She didn’t like the intensity of Tristan’s expression, as if his revenge took precedence over all else.

“What about your dream of being reincarnated so we could be together again?”

“She told me it was a possibility, but there was no certainty, for you have free will and it could take a while.”

A while? Try 900 years
. The goddess must have an odd sense of humor.

“I coaxed from Danu a promise.” His voice grew husky. “In exchange for becoming the guardian of all shifters, I wanted only one thing. I needed to become your lover, and the father of your child. All the power in the world meant nothing to me if I could not see you again, Nikita. And so I became the Silver Wizard, and I began the wait for you to return to me. Nine hundred years I have waited for that promise to be fulfilled.”

Her chest grew tight again. “A very long time.”

“I would have waited another nine hundred years to hold you in my arms again.”

Niki reached out to him, to embrace him, hoping this time he would not shut her out. She needed the contact in this cold, dark place and she longed to comfort him for all his past torment. He stiffened and drew back.

“No. I must not. Not here. If I touch you, all my control will shatter, Nikita. I want you so badly that I dare not risk it.” His voice trembled slightly.

He shifted into a magnificent silver wolf, the size of a small Shetland pony. Ice blue eyes regarded her coldly.

The wolf nudged her forward.

Fighting her welling emotions, she kept walking. Maybe he’d shared his past anguish, but he certainly wasn’t allowing her close now. Tristan had become a stranger once more.

Being in the presence of a wolf triggered her own Lupine instincts. Nikita called upon her magick and tried to shift.

No use. She had to maintain her human form.

A heavy weight settled on her chest. She was alive and Lupine, yet walking in the realm of the dead. No longer did she have the solace of the wolf that always kept her centered and calm. Or of the guardian who’d once promised his heart to her centuries ago, but now thirsted for revenge upon Drust and seemed as distant as the stars.

She wondered if he’d ever pledge it to her again.

Chapter 11

Gray skies and sullen clouds darkened the skies as they proceeded through the Shadow Lands. It felt like they had walked for hours through the forest when, finally, the trees cleared and they came to a jagged mountain.

The entrance to a cave was set in the mountain. Tristan shifted back to Skin.

“Drust,” he muttered, his voice rich with satisfaction. “He is hiding Prince Alexander here.”

Niki stared at the dark opening of the cave. “Why have you waited all this time for revenge, Tristan? How long has Drust been here?”

“Centuries.”

“And you want to do this now, when you need to get me out of here?”

“You are the reason we are here, Nikita. You suffered as much as I did because of Drust’s betrayal. He was not merely responsible for my execution.” Tristan’s voice trembled. He waved a hand and a vision appeared in the air, as opaque as mist—herself and Tristan, walking with their arms around each other in a green meadow, watching a dozen children run and play.

“He took away all our dreams and hopes of being a family, of living in peace and growing old to see our grandchildren.”

Emotion clogged her throat as he waved a hand andthe vision vanished. “There are always new dreams.” Deep inside, she wondered if this revenge was more important than she was to Tristan.

Tristan gazed down at her. “Yes. We will have another future together. But he caused my death, Nikita, and made me feel powerless and helpless. He murdered you, Nikita, and killed our babe in your womb and I could not help you. That is something I could never forgive.”

Ancient screams echoed in her mind, a memory from the past. But they weren’t her screams.

She closed her eyes, seeing Tristan, his body torn and bleeding, the agony he suffered as they tortured him to find out where he’d hidden the dragon’s eggs. He had remained steadfast and never told the Fae. Even as the king’s executioner picked up the knife and spread his legs apart to reach for his manhood…

Moaning, she hugged herself. “What they did to you, my poor Tristan.”

“Do not be distressed, my sweet,” he said gently. “That is in the past.”

Fierce resolved filled her. “I don’t just want him to suffer because of what he did to me and how he took everything away from us.” She felt hatred consume her. “I want him to suffer because of what he made you go through.”

“He will.”

Confidence filled his deep voice. He pulled himself straighter and she saw the aura of power around him grow stronger. Tristan walked over to a towering oak tree near the cave entrance. Dropping to his knees, he dug in the earth and pulled free the diamond dragon scale she’d seen him previously toss into the portal leading to the Shadow Lands. Dusting off his trousers, he returned and handed her the scale.

“This is the key to sending Prince Alexander home. Stay here. I must see what Drust is doing. I will be back.”

Then the Silver Wizard shifted again, this time into a black raven, flying into the cavern.

Dread filled her as she clutched the dragon scale. A few moments later, the raven returned.

Tristan shifted into Skin. She handed him the scale and he walked into the cavern.

Niki followed, her stomach tightening with dread. She had no desire to confront the dragon who had caused her death.

Jagged spikes of white crystal dangled from the ceiling. The walls were pure white crystal as well. After the staleness of the desert, the air here felt cooler and smelled fresher. A tangy scent of charcoal and sharp sandalwood teased her nostrils.

Ancient senses stirred within her, along with memory. This was Drust’s unique scent from when he roamed the earth as a fierce dragon.

In the middle of the cavern in human form, Drust sat in a wooden chair at a simple wooden table. No other furniture was present. Papers were strewn over the table, and a quill and inkstand rested there as well. Overhead, a fly buzzed lazily around before landing on a stalactite.

Drust pushed back the chair and stood. He looked corporeal, but as Tristan had informed her earlier, he was only a spirit.

Unsmiling, he faced them. Certainly she had never expected this—to find a powerful silver dragon in the afterworld, who looked nearly as menacing as the wizard who’d taken her captive.

Once Tristan and Drust had been close friends, formidable to those who opposed them. Tristan’s sharp fangs had sliced flesh and Drust’s fire had burned those unfortunate enough to be in its path. Now, as she looked at the Silver Wizard and the silver dragon, she knew they were bitter enemies.

Drust had short, black hair and a close-cropped beard and mustache. He had the most intense blue eyes Niki had ever seen, burning and searing. He resembled his great-grandson Sebastian, but in looks only. For Sebastian was handsome and charming and had a sunny disposition.

Drust was dark, brooding and intense. The thick gray hooded cloak he wore was shapeless, flowing down to his bare feet. His mouth thinned as he glared at the wizard.

“Tristan. Why are you here, to torment the dead or replenish your energy? Are your powers so diminished here that you are as ineffective as you were when we broke bread on Earth?” Drust’s deep voice carried an edge of contempt.

Tristan offered a grim smile as his aura pulsed bright silver, as if to refute Drust’s words. Niki could barely stand to look at him. Power crackled and hummed in the dull, stale air.

“I have no need to replenish my energy. I could turn you into charbroiled barbecue for dinner, but for the fact that I detest lizard meat.”

Ignoring the jab, Drust turned to her.

“Nikita.” His voice was deep and echoed through the cavern.

Tristan pulled her closer and his lips curled back in a snarl, showing his fangs.

“Down boy,” she murmured to him. “I can handle him.”

“I last saw you several hundred years ago,” Drust said, and for a moment he looked deeply pained.

Nikita tried to quiet her pounding heart. Drust should scare her. His searing intensity warned her that this was no dragon to trifle with. But he had betrayed Tristan, causing his death. Hers. And their unborn son’s.

And that last thought stirred her, roused her anger.

“I should have gasped my last breath cursing you,” she said in a low voice, advancing towards him. “I should have cursed you for turning Tristan over to King Emer simply so you could gain more gold. Cursed you for killing my child.”

Niki curled her right hand into a fist and slugged Drust.

The dragon shifter reeled backward, blood welling from his cut lip. Niki flexed her fingers.

“You bastard,” she screamed, shaking with rage. “You murdering bastard!”

Crystals hanging above them trembled and the walls of the cavern shook, as if her wrath were an earthquake.

The dragon’s shoulders slumped. “I deserve that,” Drust told her.

The admission stunned her. Tristan frowned as he glanced at her.

Giving a grudging laugh, Drust touched his mouth and the cut healed, and vanished, along with the blood. “You have turned into a fighter, Nikita. But you did no real harm to me. One heals quickly from injuries caused by another in this world, but not as quickly from the injuries within.”

He went to the table and sat with a weary sigh. The fly that had hung on the stalactite flew downward and landed on a piece of parchment. Another joined it, both crawling on the fine beige paper.