The Mating Season: Werewolves of Montana Book 6 (3 page)

Tristan knew it was a lot to digest. Hell, how could he ask her to just blithely accept their past life together? He had hoped the memories he’d triggered over the past few weeks would help, but clearly, she still feared him.

Twenty-five years of her family teaching her to be terrified of him would do that, he thought ruefully. Damn the prophecy that foretold he would abduct her and kill her. That was the trouble with ancient prophecies. The words became twisted over the centuries and the truth warped. But still, her family had believed every word.

How could he create a baby with her in loving passion when his past/future mate looked at him as if he wanted to slay her?

Slay her with pleasure, yes. Even now he trembled with the terrible want of her, the need to tear off her clothing and plunge his sex deep inside her, bonding them together in the flesh at last. The vision she had obviously seen in the mirror had been a manifestation of his darkest, deepest desires.

Kill her? Of course not. But her family had drilled it into Nikita’s head that he was a monster, who was foretold to destroy her. Nine hundred years ago, Nikita had captured his heart with her beauty and her gentle spirit and courage. He had never forgotten her, had never ceased desiring her all these centuries.

He had made a promise to her that would not be broken.

Patience, he reminded himself. You’ve waited hundreds of years for this moment. Don’t screw it up.

Blue eyes wide, she blinked hard. “Inconceivable.”

Tristan rocked back on his booted heels.
What?

“I do not think it means what you think it means.” Nikita licked her mouth. “
Princess Bride
.”

“A good movie.” He had watched this one. Tristan waited.

“A child.” She gnawed on her lush lower lip and he nearly groaned, for he badly wanted to touch her, taste her. “You want to make a baby with me.”

“Yes,” he said quietly, watching her face.

Niki hugged herself. “Mind if I have a shower first and a walk on the beach?”

Tristan stared, and then laughed. After all these centuries, his Nikita was still…Nikita. Ah, that pragmatic streak that kept him grounded, and laughing.

A vision flickered from his past. The hook the executioner lifted, sunlight glinting on the cruel metal…Nikita’s terrified screams for them to stop…

Tristan ceased laughing.

“It’s far too dangerous. We’ll dine here, in the room, while you gather your strength.”

She lifted her chin. “I’m strong enough now. And it’s only a walk on the beach. Maybe collect a few seashells. How dangerous is that?”

Nikita knew nothing of the dangers of this world or the Others who possessed such powers and wouldn’t hesitate to use them against her. He had many enemies. Shifters whose loved ones he had been forced to exterminate when they turned to darkness. Shifters, more than any Others, had long memories and were loyal to family.

Taking a deep breath, he sat beside her again, fighting the temptation to kiss her senseless, keeping her distracted from the beach in a much more pleasant way.

“Seashells can be whittled to sharp edges that can cut your skin to ribbons. The ocean tides can rise up and drown you. Or a sinkhole can appear beneath your bare feet and the sands can swallow you forever. Those are but a few tricks Mara can pull, not to mention the harm ordinary shifters can cause you.”
And there are a few shifters here in this hotel.

“They hate me that much?” Nikita’s pulse raced.

“They hate
me
that much.”

Tristan rose and began to pace the room. He wanted to win her heart again, but after all this time, he grew impatient. The Nikita of his mortal life had been mostly docile and sweet, but she had possessed a hidden stubborn streak.

That hadn’t changed much, he thought ruefully.

“The potion I gave you has transformed your body. You now possess some of my powers, and my ability to journey from this world to Tir Na-nog without dying. However, the potion doesn’t make you invincible, like me. Nor immortal. You’re still vulnerable. And the effects are temporary. They will wear off in five more days. Unless I get you to my home in Tir Na-nog before those five days are up, the process will reverse and it will be…most unpleasant.” He sat and picked up her hand, marveling at the velvet softness of her skin.

“More unpleasant than dying from the parvolupus?”

He thought of the possibility of the potion wearing off and his chest tightened. “I will not allow that to happen. I will guard your time and keep watch.”

Tristan rubbed his cheek against her hand. “Your mortal body is susceptible here on Earth, much as it was before you drank the potion. You can still die.”

And that I will not allow to happen. And when you finally surrender in passion to me, and learn to trust me, there is a way to make you immortal so we can be together forever. Because otherwise, I will have to let you go in the end, for I have my duties as the Silver Wizard and I cannot live on Earth, nor can you live permanently in Tir Na-nog, unless you are as immortal as I am.

The thought grieved him, but he set it aside. He must focus on her needs.

Seeing her unhappiness, he added, “Perhaps after we have breakfast, we can go to the beach, if you remain at my side.”

Niki smiled and the joy in that facial gesture made his own heart thump. Gods, he had loved her so much during their brief time as mates.

Could she learn to love him again?

Love isn’t necessary for what I was promised. Passion, yes. I will teach her passion, and let her own natural desire arise. Danu promised me an heir to continue my name so I will not be forgotten when the ages have passed and I have become naught but a memory. My son will be my legacy.

Desire rose as he studied his past/future mate.

The son I will plant in her belly.

He nodded at the bathroom. “Go shower. I will order breakfast.”

“Bacon,” she said, her eyes bright. “Lots of bacon. I’m starved. And a cheese omelet, and an English muffin, buttered, and oh, honey, not jelly.”

He grinned. “You enjoy eating honey?”

“Definitely.”

Tristan thought of all the tantalizing ways he could use the honey. Smeared all over her body while he licked it off, very slowly…

Not now. Later.

But he would taste her. One small kiss as a reward for his patience. Staring at her mouth, he leaned forward. Niki shrank back. Biting back a frustrated sigh, he merely brushed his lips across her forehead, then went into the living room to give her privacy.

Breakfast. He could conjure food, but perhaps she would enjoy room service. Decisions, decisions. Tristan phoned room service and placed an order for a plate of bacon, a cheese omelet with a buttered English muffin and honey, adding coffee, orange juice and for himself, Brie and toast.

He sat at the armchair by the sliding glass door to wait. Sounds of the shower began, and Tristan closed his eyes, imagining his Nikita beneath the spray, droplets of water gleaming as they slid down her nude body, imagining her taking the soap into that sweet, honeyed warmth between her legs…

He’d love to join her, wash her back and many other places. His body tightened and he reluctantly leashed his desire.

A soft tap came at the door and suddenly a man materialized in the room. He glanced up. “Don’t you knock?”

“I just did.” Xavier, the Crystal Wizard, strolled over to the sofa.

The Crystal Wizard was one of the three other members of the Brehon, the judges and guardians of Others. Xavier ruled over trolls, ogres, nymphs and goblins. But while Tristan was busy with Nikita, Xavier promised to take over his duties temporarily, sharing the responsibility with Gideon, the Crimson Wizard and ruler of Fae.

His brother wizard had long, dark curls tipped at the edges with white crystals, a bearded face and a tall, muscular frame. Known for his flamboyant dress, he had dressed in clothing outrageous even for him; a neon green sweater and tight white pants.

“What are you wearing?” he asked.

X looked down. “The latest fashion. I have heard of these trousers with sayings embroidered on the back.”

The Crystal Wizard turned around. On the back of his pants was embroidered the phrase “Sexy Thing.”

Tristan rolled his eyes. “Those sayings are for sixteen-year-old girls. Not seven-hundred-year-old wizards, my friend. Did you visit the Mitchell Ranch?”

“Yes. I did as Aiden asked.”

“How are Aiden and Nia?” He was especially concerned about Nia, since she had been upset about being parted from her twin.

“Very, very busy. Especially in the bedroom.” His blue gaze twinkled. “Nia is quite happy, and she can once more shapeshift into her wolf, but she and Aiden keep working the magick.”

Good. Aiden would keep his mate distracted, and keep her from worrying about Nikita.

“Do you have the report on Alexander for me?”

Xavier handed him a roll of parchment. Tristan unfurled it and read the ancient, cramped script. The heir of the Drakon clan, Drust’s clan, Crown Prince Alex was headstrong, had a temper and was fiercely loyal. It seemed the one-hundred-fifty-year-old crown prince, who was only thirty-five in human years, was missing.

Tristan knew exactly where the very important dragon shifter hid—with Drust, his dead great-grandfather in the afterworld of the Shadow Lands. And the prince refused to return home.

Perfect.

Now that he finally had his Nikita back, he would exact his revenge. Drust, the dragon shifter who had caused his capture nine centuries ago and caused his agonizing execution, would finally suffer for betraying Tristan.

“What are you going to do to Drust? I thought you were only venturing to the Shadow Lands to take Nikita to Tir Na-nog.”

Absorbed in the report, Tristan did not answer. The only way he could take Nikita to his home in Tir Na-nog was through the Shadow Lands, the purgatory for OtherWorlders who died and had to make amends in order to ascend to the heavenly afterworld. He rolled the parchment and handed it back to Xavier.

“What are you planning to do to Drust?” Xavier repeated.

“I’d kill him, but he’s already dead. I plan to take away the one thing he wants above all else. Drust cherishes his descendants.”

And I have none. Not even the babe Nikita carried in her belly when I died.

Xavier’s gaze narrowed. “You can’t kill the crown prince of Clan Drakon. Tristan, has the Florida sun overheated your brain?”

“I have no desire to harm Alexander. But I will remove something that Drust cherishes.”

“His balls?”

“No. I would never do that to anyone, and inflict that agony on a man. Except perhaps Drust. It is not…a terrific feeling.”

Blood drained from Xavier’s face. “That’s what they did when they killed you all those centuries ago?”

“One of the things they did,” he said softly. “The others were brutal as well.”

Tristan’s chest tightened as he remembered the agony of seeing Nikita’s tormented face watching his torture, hearing her screams echo his own. Though he tried hard to keep silent, the pain had grown intolerable and he screamed and screamed.

Not the confession the Fae executioner wanted, but he cried his mate’s name over and over.

Nikita!

“Though I must admit feeling quite different after losing my balls. I suddenly had the urge to shop, sing soprano, wear my hair up in a snood and start asking, ‘Does this outfit make my ass look fat?’” He fingered his shoulder-length locks with a rueful smile.

“Stop joking. This is serious.”

Tristan blinked. “I am serious. Does this tunic make me look fat?”

Xavier growled and flicked a finger at him. A crystalline bolt of energy sailed into the air and hit Tristan in the mouth. It bounced off his face and hit the wall instead, denting it. None of the four wizards of the Brehon had the ability to hurt the others. The rules Danu set up long ago were firm. They couldn’t fully share powers either or the punishment would be most grim, she’d warned them.

“I am not going to hurt one hair on Crown Prince Alexander’s head. Trust me.” Tristan locked his gaze on his fellow wizard. “Are you willing to do what I asked you before?”

Xavier waved a hand and conjured a pair of silver scissors. “Be quick about it. I am fond of my hair.”

Drawing in a deep breath, he handed Tristan the scissors. Tristan took one of Xavier’s long, dark curls and snipped, cutting off the end where the crystals grew. Immediately another crystal appeared in its place.

Palming the glittering lock, he studied it and then set down the scissors.

“I am most curious. Why do you need one of my crystals?”

“I will tell you everything later. Thank you for this.” He tucked the crystal into the pocket of his tunic as Nikita emerged from the bedroom, a hotel robe wrapped around her body.

Both he and Xavier stood. Blood drained from her face as her gaze whipped back and forth between them. Tristan felt her agitation. Two powerful wizards, both over six feet tall, and quite intimidating.