Without her . . .
He shuddered. It was too unbearable to even imagine.
“Gia is not a bitch,” he warned, his wolf snarling inside him. “Someday she will be my mate.”
The blow to his head came without warning. “Listen to me well, Damon,” his mother hissed. “You have one destiny, and that is to claim the throne. I will destroy anything that threatens to divert you from your fate.”
These were the same words that had been repeated to him since he’d been in the cradle. His mother had been convinced he was destined to follow in his father’s footsteps to become the leader of the Weres, despite the fact that his father had already chosen his eldest son, Briggs, for the privilege. Her belief had become a downright obsession when Damon’s father had cast Damon and Rosina out of his life and retreated into his own insanity.
Damon had blindly accepted his mother’s demand that he devote his life to claiming a throne. Even if he had never wanted it.
Until Gia . . .
“Have you ever considered the possibility that I want something different for my fate?”
“You are the son of a king.”
Damon battled to keep the revulsion from showing. Mackenzie had been a vicious wolf who was crazed with the paranoid belief that he was surrounded by enemies. Even his own family had been suspected of being traitors.
He’d retreated from the world, allowing only a few trusted servants to approach.
Only decades later would Damon discover that his father had been tampering with dark magic in an effort to keep his powers.
“A king who drove us away from his lair and nearly destroyed his pack,” he muttered.
His mother once again slammed her fist against the side of his head. Damon flinched. Despite her tiny size, Rosina was as strong as any pure-blood Were.
“You know nothing of what he suffered,” she rasped. “He was constantly tormented by his rivals. Especially by Salvatore. The treacherous Were’s powers were clearly a threat to your father.”
Damon ignored the blood that ran down the side of his head. “Because Salvatore was the true heir. It was never the Weres’ tradition to pass the crown from father to son.”
The madness in her dark eyes drowned out the glow of Rosina’s wolf. Damon wasn’t certain his mother could even sense her animal. Probably a good thing. It was no doubt rabid.
“Shut your mouth,” she snarled. “Never say that again. Do you hear me?”
Damon grimaced. Foam was beginning to form at the edges of his mother’s mouth, the flecks of blood more pronounced than just a few weeks before.
“Yes.”
“I have sacrificed everything for you.”
A sour taste filled his mouth. It was a blatant manipulation, but that didn’t make it any less effective.
“I know that, Mother.”
“Then you will become the man I have trained you to be.” With a jerky motion, his mother reached into the pocket of her ragged dress, pulling out a finely crafted gold medallion that was hung on a leather strap. The ancient artifact had once belonged to his father and was reputedly imbued with a potent magic, although his mother had never been able to unlock its power. “A man fit to wear your father’s symbol of authority.”
“I . . .” He blew out a resigned sigh as his mother tied the leather strap around his neck, allowing the medallion to fall against his chest. Rosina had decided that her son was destined to be king. Nothing he said was going to change her mind. “Yes, Mother.”
The madness began to recede from her dark eyes, the heat in the room easing. “You are a good boy, Damon.” She patted his cheek. “You will make a powerful king.”
Damon gave a resigned nod of his head. “If you say.”
Rosina began to shuffle back toward her chair. She would spend the rest of the night staring at the empty fireplace, no doubt recalling the days when she was queen and her husband had managed to disguise his perverted connection to a demon lord who’d nearly destroyed the Weres.
“Soon, my love, we will have back all that was taken from us,” she muttered, her words becoming slurred.
Feeling as if he were smothering, Damon turned toward the door. “I have to gather wood for the fire.”
He didn’t know if his mother heard him, and at that moment he didn’t care. He had to get out of the cabin before his frustrated wolf broke its leash and took control.
Stepping out of the cabin he glanced around the stark Siberian landscape. After his father had shunned them, Rosina had fled to this location. She’d been smart enough at the time to understand that Briggs, Mackenzie’s son by a previous queen, might have decided that tossing them out wasn’t enough. The crazy bastard might have actually commanded their deaths.
Barely paying attention to the thin line of trees that circled the cabin and the rough ground that was covered by tufts of grass, Damon moved toward the pile of logs he’d cut earlier in the week. Then, grabbing an ax, he began the methodical process of cutting the stack into a neat pile of firewood.
He’d been working less than half an hour when he caught the unmistakable scent of Were.
Clutching the ax, he turned to search the moonlit landscape. His breath caught as a tiny shadow moved between the trees, the tantalizing scent of chamomile teasing at his senses.
Stepping into the clearing, the young female Were flashed a teasing smile. “Surprise.”
“Gia.” Damon dropped the ax, as always struck by the sheer beauty of the woman. Long, blue-black hair that fell in a smooth curtain down her back. A pale, oval face. And dark, oblong eyes that shimmered with a love for life that Damon found addictive. The first time he’d seen her, she’d been in her wolf form. He’d caught her trespassing on their land, and he’d tried to run her off. Instead she’d shifted into her human form and laughingly thrown a snowball that had hit him on the tip of his sensitive nose. His heart had been lost in that second. “What are you doing out here?”
She continued forward, only halting when she was close enough to place her hands flat on his chest.
“Hoping to see you before you went to bed.”
Damon trembled, lust jolting through him at the light touch. He’d desired this female for so long. Now it’d grown to a savage, ruthless ache that was impossible to ignore.
“You should not be here,” he breathed, knowing he should send her away. Instead his hands lifted to tenderly frame her face.
She wrinkled her nose, her fingers exploring over his chest. “Why not?”
Damon swallowed a groan. Flames of excitement spread through his body as she traced her fingers over his rigid muscles. He desperately wanted to strip her of her simple cotton dress and pull her against his rising erection. To wrap her legs around his waist so he could slide his throbbing cock deep into her moist heat.
He sucked in a deep breath, struggling to control his primal hungers.
As much as he might hunger for Gia, his need to protect her was even stronger.
So long as his mother lived, this female would be in danger.
“I told you, my mother is growing more unstable with every passing day,” he reminded his companion, leaning down to press an apologetic kiss to her lips. Instantly the tantalizing taste of warm woman and chamomile exploded on his tongue, making his wolf howl with need. “If she discovers you near the lair she will hurt you.”
Gia tilted her head to the side, silently inviting him to spread a trail of kisses down the length of her throat.
“Did you speak with her?” she softly demanded.
He gave a frustrated growl. He didn’t want to think about his endless battle with his mother. He wanted to concentrate on the feel of Gia’s satin skin beneath his lips.
“Briefly.”
“Did you tell her that you do not wish to be the king?”
“I . . .” Damon muttered a curse, feeling once again like a failure. “I tried.”
“Damon,” Gia chided softly.
“Give me time.”
The youn
ger woman pulled back to study him with a troubled expression. “The longer you allow her to harbor her delusions, the worse it will be when she discovers the truth.”
“Please, Gia.” He wrapped her in his arms, tugging her hard against his body. “Just let me hold you.”
She immediately softened against him, her arms lifting to wrap around his neck. “Always, my darling.”
Damon groaned, his hands skimming up and down her back, feeling a growingly frantic urge to carry her far away from the cabin so they could be alone.
Just the two of them . . .
Thankfully, while his human body was consumed with pleasure, his wolf remained on full alert. Which meant he could hear the faint sound of footsteps crossing the wooden floor of the cabin.
“Mother,” he breathed, pulling back to meet Gia’s frustrated gaze. “You must go.”
Her lips parted, as if she wanted to argue, then catching sight of his tortured expression she gave a rueful nod.
“I will be waiting for you tomorrow at our spot.”
He dared one last kiss before pushing her toward the trees. “Go.”
Levet wasn’t often discombobulated.
He was a three-foot gargoyle who’d been removed from the Guild when he was barely old enough to be out of the nest. His life had been a series of life-or-death disasters.
But nothing could prepare a demon for being zapped back in time to witness a Were reliving his past.
After realizing that the man standing beside him had gone into some weird trance, or perhaps had left his body altogether, Levet had halted his attempts to waken the stubborn Were and instead watched the unfolding drama as the action had shifted from the cabin to the chilled Siberian landscape.
It’d been disturbing to witness the bleak and pathetic lack of affection in Damon’s childhood. Having been raised by a violent mother who’d devoted her life to making sure he understood he was nothing but a disappointment, Levet had first-hand knowledge of the pain that Damon must have felt.
Caught up in the tragedy, Levet was startled when the vision of Damon and Gia faded into mist, and the man next to him gave a hiss of angry bewilderment.
“Dammit.” He turned to glare at Levet. “What the hell is going on?”
Levet ignored the question. It wasn’t as if he had an answer, after all.
“Your father was Mackenzie,” he instead said. He didn’t know the full story of the previous Were king, but he’d heard the rumors that the Were had died because of his connection to black magic.
Damon’s expression hardened, his hand instinctively reaching to touch the medallion that lay against his chest. “He was.”
“And Briggs was your brother.”
“Half brother,” he corrected in sharp, warning tones.
“He was the one who tried to kill Salvatore, right?”
“Briggs was a fool who cared about nothing but his own pathetic glory. I had nothing to do with his demented plans.”
Levet shrugged. Clearly not a subject that the Were wanted to discuss.
Not surprising.
Families . . . Could not live with them, could not turn them into toads.
“Who was the woman?” Levet instead asked.
“Gia.”
“She’s very beautiful.”
“Exquisite.”
“Is she your mate?”
A heart-wrenching longing softened Damon’s grim expression. “If my life had been different.”
“Oh.” Levet grimaced. Weres mated for life, which might explain the bitterness he sensed eating away at the soul of Damon. “I’m sorry. How did she die?”
Damon’s brows snapped together. “She’s not dead, you idiot.”
Levet made a sound of impatience. “If she’s your mate, and she’s not dead, then why do you speak of her as if she is beyond your reach?”
“Because she is.”
“Why?”
“She . . .” With a sudden shake of his head, Damon appeared to recall that he wanted to murder Levet. His hand reached out to grab Levet by the horn, giving him a violent shake. “Get me out of here. Now.”
“Eek!”
Flailing to get free, Levet swung his arms, forgetting he was holding the wand until it smacked into the side of Damon’s leg.
Instantly a fountain of sparks filled the air, a thick darkness abruptly rolling over them.
Chapter 3
Damon felt his feet hit a hard surface as the black mist began to fade. Their surroundings were still too fuzzy to make out, but Damon knew without a doubt they weren’t in the frozen snow outside St. Louis.
God. Was this nightmare ever going to end?
Or maybe it wasn’t a nightmare, a dark voice whispered in the back of his mind.
Maybe he’d already battled the king and died. Now his punishment was to relive the worst moments of his life along with this annoying gargoyle who should have been drowned at birth.
“Where have you taken us now?” he growled.
“How should I know?” Levet muttered, holding up the slender stick that sent out sparks from the end. “This is a loaner wand.”
Damon scowled, barely resisting the urge to snatch the stick out of the gargoyle’s hand and shove it up his ass.
Only his natural aversion to handling magic made him hesitate.
Instead he bared his elongated canines. “Then stop waving it around. I . . .” He forgot what he was going to say as the last of the mist cleared and he was able to have a good look around, stunned by the beauty of the luxurious villa that overlooked the Aegean Sea. “Shit.”
The gargoyle cast a fearful glance around the vast marble room that opened to a veranda complete with an infinity pool. There were low sofas and cushy chairs in shades of pale aqua that perfectly matched the sea.
It was a house that was as different from the cramped cabin in frozen Siberia as possible.
“What is it?”
“This is my lair,” Damon said, his voice thick with a furious disbelief.
He didn’t know how or why the gargoyle was doing this to him, but he wanted it to end.
Levet gave a low whistle, pointedly glancing toward the priceless Grecian statues that were tucked into shallow alcoves.
“You have done well for yourself considering—”
The creature’s words dwindled as the air prickled with the heat of Damon’s wolf. “Considering that my father was rumored to have sold his soul to a demon lord and my mother was a lunatic, crazed with her need to see me on the throne?”
Levet widened his gray eyes at the bitter accusation. “Actually I was going to say ‘for a mangy hound.’”
Damon hissed out a frustrated breath. “How have you survived this long?”
“It’s a gift.”
With a flick of his fairy wings, the gargoyle stepped toward the open French doors where the sunlight sparkled against the white marble, his gaze locked on the shoreline where the private beach met the sea.
Damon abruptly frowned in suspicion. “I thought gargoyles turned to stone during the day?”
Levet shrugged. “We are not truly here.” He turned back to meet Damon’s accusing gaze. “Is this still the past?”
“How should I know?” Damon snapped.
There was a shift in their surroundings, and suddenly Damon could see himself standing across the room, his expression rigid as he watched a slender, dark-haired female enter from a side door.
“We are about to discover,” Levet murmured, suddenly back at Damon’s side.
Damon already knew.
He’d lived this precise moment one week ago.
“No,” he rasped. “Get us out of here.”
Ridiculously Damon tried to back away, hoping he could somehow escape the sudden tugging that he could feel deep inside him.
Of course it was a wasted effort. He’d barely managed to take a step before his consciousness was yanked from his body and thrust into his body across the room.
It was the same as before. The s
ense of disorientation before he was being sucked into the past, feeling agonizing regret as he watched the beautiful female halt directly in front of him.
“Gia,” he breathed, his gaze compulsively taking in the toga-style sundress that clung lovingly to her slender body.
Pain, so intense it should have been lethal, sliced through him as his gaze lifted to meet her dark, accusing gaze.
Over the past years the two of them had remained close, but Damon had resisted the savage need to make her his mate. So long as his mother was alive he understood Gia would be in danger.
Then, without warning, Damon had returned to the cabin and found his mother dead. She’d committed a Telos, the werewolf equivalent of suicide.
He’d tried to go on with his life. To shake off the chains of his childhood and claim a future with the woman he loved.
Unfortunately, that had proved to be an impossible task.
“Damon,” Gia said, her lovely face set in lines of determination. “I’m glad I caught you before you left.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t let you leave without seeing you.”
Damon squashed the urge to reach out and touch her cheek. Over the past few months their arguments had grown increasingly bitter, until Gia had at last slammed out of the villa, swearing never to return.
He’d needed her support more than ever, but she’d refused to try and understand the darkness driving him.
“As I remember the last time we spoke you told me to go to hell,” he reminded her in grim tones.
Her lips thinned with annoyance. “Because you refuse to listen to reason.”
“Because I refuse to bow to your wishes,” he countered.
“Not my wishes.” The power of her wolf glowed in her eyes. His own wolf rose up in response, straining to be released. His animal didn’t understand why he was hesitating in completing the mating. “Common sense,” she said between clenched teeth. “You know this is a suicide mission.”
Damon felt a shaft of pain at her words. He so desperately wanted her to understand. To stand at his side.
Of course, he didn’t let her see his regret. His pride demanded that he act as if nothing could hurt him.