The Mating Season: Werewolves of Montana Book 6 (17 page)

She went to the water lapping at the shore, and tested it with one finger. Cold, just as she’d imagined.

“Since you are the only true living mortal here in the Shadow Lands, there will be…creatures…who are attracted to you and your life force. Most will be merely curious. Some will want to devour that life force.”

“I’d like to see the inn.” Her voice sounded a little shaky, but she kept her gaze centered on him.

They walked up the wood steps of the inn. The view was splendid from the second story porch, but in the distant water she saw a floundering shape.

“It’s a whale.” Delight filled her. “I wish I had binoculars.”

Suddenly a pair appeared in her hands. Not questioning the gift, she held the glasses to her eyes.

Horror pulsed through her.

It looked like a whale, but this creature was no gentle mammal eating krill. It was as large as a house, and had jagged dagger teeth. It rose out of the water and snapped at a bird flying overhead. The helpless bird struggled, and then vanished into the maw of the sea animal.

Her heart was heavy as she lowered the glasses. Tristan looked at her quietly.

“You’re right. Nothing here is as it seems.” Nikita’s hand shook.

“In Tir Na-nog, the whales are simply whales and the homes are all whatever you wish. But here, you share space with Others who work out their own pasts, dreams…and tormented nightmares.”

She’d had enough nightmares on Earth, thank you very much. But he’d created sunshine and blue skies, so perhaps she could create beauty as well. “I want to explore. Are there mountains here? I’ve always longed to go camping in the mountains.”

“Yes, but the mountains can hold danger. Rockslides, if you are not careful.”

“Well, what about another beach?”

“We need to press on,” he said tightly. “This is not adventure land, Nikita. And time has a habit of trapping you, if you find a place soothing to your spirit.” He picked up a seashell on the railing and held it to his ear.

The contrast between the mien of the dangerous wizard and the boyish expression on his face as he closed his eyes to listen to the seashell was incongruous.

Fascinated, she looked at the planes and angles of his sculpted face. So handsome. Relaxed as he was now, without the constant guarded look he wore, he drew her like a lodestone. Perhaps this was the Tristan who had enchanted her in the past, the man/wolf who had captured her heart and refused to release it.

“What do you hear?”

“Stay connected all the time for only twenty-five drachmas! Unlimited talk and text on the ancient world’s fastest smart phone.”

Tristan set down the shell. She smiled, but the grim laugh rumbling from his throat was as ominous as the behemoth creature in the ocean. Then he squinted at the sky and his expression grew grimmer.

He nodded at the steps. “Come.”

His pace was quick and hurried as she followed him down the stairs. When they reached the sands, thunder rippled through the air.

“Don’t look back,” he advised.

Of course she did.

The pretty, scenic inn had crumbled into dust and then vanished with a pop, as if clearing the air it had inhabited.

Niki’s stomach pitched and roiled. “We were just there.”

“Things dreams are built upon are not always stable. Since you are not dead, nor immortal, what you conjured cannot remain there long.”

At least she had Tristan as a guide in this unknown land. As they walked the beach, Tristan once again laced his hands behind his back, looking lost in thought.

“First, fairies that bite me and then beachfront inns that crumble. Isn’t there a place we can go that’s a little more fun? Maybe a nightclub with great dancing where I can wear designer shoes? Now there’s a fun fantasy.”

Instead of answering, he bent down and scooped sand into his palm, then let the grains spill through his outstretched fingers. Terrific. He ignored her. She might as well be a shadow.

And then she noticed the tension gripping his broad shoulders and how his fingers trembled as he released the sand.

Dropping to the sand, she sat and hooked her hands around her bent knees to watch him. Niki gentled her voice. “What happened to you here in the Shadow Lands?”

“I spent much time here, Nikita. It was painful. I kept reliving my life, over and over, until the anger consumed me like fire.”

He turned and she saw a long tear in his tunic, jagged and stained, as if with blood. “And your execution?”

It must have been too horrid to bear.

Tristan nodded. “Not the way I died, but the look in your eyes, and knowing I was leaving you. It was hell.”

She sensed an enormous struggle taking place within him. Her own spirit felt weighted by it. The air felt leaden, sullen, and the blue sky suddenly became overcast. The pretty white lace of the surf turned an ugly gray.

“This place, it’s beautiful, but it’s as if there’s an aftertaste infringing on my wolf’s senses.” She glanced upward at the darkening clouds scudding across the sky. “I’m not sure that’s the right word…does my mood affect the weather?”

“Yes. Part of it, I fear, is me.” His rueful smile did not reach his dark eyes. “I am immortal, but the mortal part of me, buried deep inside, remembers how powerless I was at my torture and execution, and how I had no power here. I swore I would never again feel that sense of helplessness again. I would like us to journey as quickly as possible to where we must go.”

“Then show me the way. But let’s have a little joy as we journey there.” She touched his arm. “I have no desire to make you relive painful memories, Tristan. If Others choose to remain here and not progress to Tir Na-nog, then they have found a way to have happiness here. Wouldn’t you like that as well?”

His full mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I would like to get to Alexander as soon as possible. That is my wish. And we must get you to Tir Na-nog by nightfall.”

She glanced overhead at the sun.

“Time has a way of slipping away here in the Shadow Lands. A day here is like three on Earth. But when the sun sets, if you are not in Tir Na-nog, you can turn into shadow forever.”

Tristan turned and snapped his fingers. The beach turned into a thick forest of pine and oak trees. Sunlight dappled the ground, but there were no sounds of wildlife, no birds singing in the limbs overhead.

Tristan started walking.

What choice had she? She followed.

Her clothing had changed as well, from jeans and a plain shirt to a long, flowing purple gown. Soft velvet shoes clad her feet. Niki put her hand to her head and realized her hair was bound in a snood.

Was this the way she’d looked when she’d died 900 years ago? Or had she herself conjured this clothing out of some inner need to connect with a past she barely remembered?

They walked about a quarter of a mile through thick forest, following a pathway strewn with tiny stones. The stones hurt her feet a little, but she didn’t complain. She was far too fascinated by this place.

“One question. Are my brothers and my father and mother here? Will I see them?”

Her dearest wish.

But he shook his head as he kept walking.

“Your mother resides in Tir Na-nog. Your father and brothers chose to be reincarnated.”

Maybe she could see her mother, the woman who’d died giving birth to her and her sister. The thought crawled through her mind like a fat spider, spinning a web of more questions and more concerns.

She’d started to ask another question when a six-legged giant spider stepped out from the trees and blocked their path. Had she conjured it? Had it leapt from her mind? Big as a horse, the spider reeled back and hissed, showing white fangs that dripped a grayish liquid.

She’d barely had time to scream when Tristan lifted a hand and the creature burst into ash. Niki shivered. Even here, he wielded much power. He turned, and his mouth narrowed. “Guard your thoughts, Nikita. Here, thoughts can turn into reality.”

“I didn’t mean to think of…that.”

“Think happier thoughts,” he said dryly.

“Fine. I’ll think of my mother. If I can conjure things like…that thing…from my imagination, then why can’t I conjure my mother? I want to see her, Tristan.”

“Conjuring objects from your imagination is one thing, and people are another. People have free will. You cannot snap your fingers and have them appear before you.”

He spread out his hands. “I tried it many times when I was here, and you had died. It did not work. I tried to conjure those I had lost, like you, and my parents, to help me overcome the terrible loneliness. It did not work. Even Drust has found that out, for he longs for connection to his family.”

He stood, arms folded, looking powerful and immortal. “It is impossible to create even a good illusion of ones you have loved, and lost when you died. Come, we must press on.”

“Why can’t you zap us to where we need to go? Or conjure a car or at least horses?”

His gaze went distant. “Because there is something you must experience first. I am forbidden from taking you directly to our eventual destination.”

That sounded quite ominous. She wanted to question him further, but saw the implacable set of his jaw. She shivered, and as he turned his back to continue, Niki remained quiet.

They stopped to rest beneath the shade of an oak tree. At least it looked like an oak tree. Niki glanced up and saw plump red leaves suddenly turn into fruit.

“Can we eat that? Or will it turn into a giant cacti or something deadly?”

Tristan followed her line of sight. “Yes, this tree is safe.”

“How do you know?”

He stood and ran his hands over the tree. “It has good energy vibrations.”

He stood and plucked two apples, handing her one. She bit into it, watching his expression. He was as remote as the distant clouds.

“This is a place of memories and the reason why I do not like coming here.”

Even his speech and mannerisms had changed here, becoming more formal and stilted. He turned the apple over in his hands. “There are some memories that I do not wish to recall. Even the disaster that was our mating day.”

Niki paused in chewing. “Disaster?”

“Not the day itself, but the wedding night.” To her amazement, his tanned skin grew ruddy.

“Tristan Kearney, almighty Silver Wizard, are you blushing?” She shook her head. “What, did I ravish you senseless?”

“I was an ass.”

She searched his expression. “I think I remember a little of it. I’ve had dreams of the wedding, anyway. It was lavish, and you drank a lot.”

“You should not try to remember, Nikita.” He finally bit into the apple. “It was not pleasant for you.”

A tingle raced down her spine. She sensed this was of great importance. “If we are to be together, Tristan, then I wish to remember.”

“No.”

“Then I’ll try to dream of it myself.”

“No!” He set down the fruit upon the soft grass. “I do not wish you imagining something that could turn into a frog or a spider again. Lie down and close your eyes.”

When she did so, Niki heard him murmur some strange words and then she fell into a dream.

She was lying in a large canopied bed, the red velvet drapes tied back to the posts with silk ribbons. The castle room was drafty, and the fine white silk night rail she wore provided flimsy protection against the cold. Nikita did not care.

It was her wedding night, and she awaited her groom.

Tristan Kearney, earl of Baldwin castle, was King Emer’s most trusted advisor. Their mating had been arranged by Emer himself. And along with his virgin bride, Tristan would receive the vast forest territory her family had owned for generations. The woods were filled with game, and King Emer enjoyed hunting there upon his white stag, bounding through the forest as his huntsman blew the silver horn.

Nikita suspected Emer, king of all the Fae, had arranged the match because he wanted a claim on the forest, and would find a way to coax them from Tristan.

Her groom was handsome, a tall Lupine with dark hair reaching down to his shoulders, a strong, muscled body and eyes black as night. When he walked, all the ladies in the court whispered of his sexual prowess, for he was known to be an excellent lover.

“He has a prick larger than most rods,” one Fae lady-in-waiting had gushed. “Those wolves know how to use it, too.”

Niki only hoped he would be gentle with her. Her mother had assured her that Tristan would make love to her in Skin, and with his Lupine knot he might even tie with her the first night, for it happened often with mates. The knotting increased the pleasure for the female.

She looked forward to that part of her mating.

But where was he? She had retired an hour ago. Yawning, she curled up and went to sleep.

When the creaking of the wood door to their bedchamber awoke her, the tall candles had burned halfway down. Her handsome groom stumbled inside the room. She caught the scent of spirits and her nostrils twitched.

He had been drinking. Nikita had dreaded this more than their initial joining, for Tristan was not prone to hard drink, and the king adored strong drink and insisted on his lords drinking with him. Watching him with wariness, she realized Tristan had spent time celebrating his wedding day without her.