Hierarchy (23 page)

“They brought you in the back way,” he responded at her questioning look.

Guiding her to a table, he helped her into a chair and excused himself. He disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes and then returned. “I’ve been thinking in terms of names,” he said when he’d settled across from her.

“Names?” she echoed blankly.

He nodded. “I think Basil has a nice ring to it. Basil d’Valdmir. What do you think, my dear?”

Bronwyn studied him in surprise, trying to sort through the emotions abruptly tumbling through her. The one thing that stood out in her mind, though, was the fact that Constantine had undoubtedly spent a good deal of time thinking about the son she was carrying for him. She smiled at him. “I think I love you, Constantine d’Valdmir,” she murmured.

His complexion warmed. To her surprise, a mixture of both pleasure and pain flickered in his eyes before he looked away. “I take it you approve the name?” he said a little uncomfortably.

“I think it’s perfect.”

* * * *

There was wariness in Luke’s eyes when Bronwyn left the house and crossed the yard to the van he was leaning against, his arms folded over his chest. “Still pissed off at me?” he asked when she stopped in front of him and looked up at him questioningly. She shook her head. “I wasn’t really angry at the time.”

He frowned. “Why the disappearing act then?”

“I didn’t actually do that—I don’t think.”

He studied her skeptically, but finally seemed to shrug it off. “I brought a peace offering. Actually, a couple.”

Bronwyn smiled at him, more because he seemed willing to put it behind them than because of the suggestion that he’d come bearing gifts.

He pulled something out of his jeans pocket and dangled it front of her. It looked like a Native American necklace make of a thin strip of leather with beads and small feathers. “It’s pretty.”

He smiled, but there was a glitter in his eyes that suddenly made her wary.

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Nevertheless, she turned and allowed him to tie it around her neck. She was smoothing it with her fingers when she turned back to him, trying to study the effect. He opened the rear door of the van and reached in to flip the switch on the ceiling light.

“I brought dinner,” he said with a grin when she looked at him warily after examining the rear of the van and discovering that the mattress he’d fitted into the back before was still there. In the center, however, were two medium sized coolers.

Seduction was in the air, she thought with wry amusement as he helped her climb inside and closed the door firmly behind him. One of the coolers, she discovered, was actually a warming box. Heavenly scents wafted from inside when he opened it, distracting her—at least somewhat—from the nervous anticipation that had seized her the moment he helped her inside.

It wasn’t the most comfortable way to enjoy a meal, but there was a sort of decadence to it that stirred her blood with anticipation and she had to admit the food was wonderful.

Luke leaned toward her when she took her first bite of the succulent lamb chop and felt the juices run down her chin, dragging his tongue along her chin and neck. Her nipples hardened in reaction, but she sent a look that was equal parts amusement and irritation when he drew back. “I didn’t dribble food that far down my neck!”

His eyes gleamed. “Of course you did. Why else would I have licked your throat?”

It was actually a delicious game, she discovered—a little sloppy, but definitely thrilling, particularly when he began to search for crumbs between her breasts and lower.

She lost interest in the food altogether when he insisted on suckling a few drops from her shirt above one nipple, digging her fingers into his thick hair as he carried her down onto the mattress.

She studied him with a slumberous gaze as began to peel her clothing off, lathing every inch of her flesh with his tongue, suckling tiny bites of flesh and when he finally rose above her, staring down at her face, she pulled him down to her, eager to feel his lips on hers.

He wouldn’t be rushed. He kissed her lingeringly, firing her blood, stirring a caldron of impatience. The slow awakening of her senses built the inferno higher and higher until she was drunk with it, fevered.

As much as she wanted to enjoy it forever, the fever built until she was so feverish with need that she began to plead with Luke wordlessly to enter her and ease her ache. When he ignored it and continued to tease her, she added breathless, vocal pleas.

He rose above her finally, teasing her with the tip of his cock. “Tell me what I want to hear, baby,” he murmured raggedly.

She looked up at him without comprehension for a handful of seconds, and then she knew. She reached for him, tugging until he lowered himself heavily against her.

“I’ve been telling you, Luke. You haven’t been listening.”

“Say it!” he growled.

She brushed her lips lightly across his. “I love you, Luke Gray Wolf.”

Triumph glittered in his eyes, but it was more than that. Lifting away from her, he thrust himself deeply inside of her, began the rhythm that would take them both to glory, and when they came together, he gave the words she’d never thought to hear.

“I love you, White Witch.”

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* * * *

It wasn’t until Bronwyn’s morning sickness began to subside somewhat that she remembered what her grandmother had said about her book of spells. It might have been a while longer except that the protection spell over her house had begun to irritate her as much as it seemed to annoy Luke and Constantine. Caleb had been conspicuous by his absence, but then she’d been truly stunned that he’d shown up at all. She really didn’t expect to see him again even once she’d had the baby—babies.

It grieved her. Even though it seemed that Constantine and Luke hadn’t abandoned her altogether—at least not yet—she missed Caleb’s rather bizarre form of playfulness—a sure sign that she was nuts about him. It had driven her to distraction when she was with him. She knew he was playing at love rather than feeling it, but it had charmed the socks of her just the same and she missed his banter dreadfully.

She felt guilty when she finally remembered the book—not that she thought it would be the least use to her—but Nanna had wanted her to have it.

Leaving the house while it was on her mind, she headed out the back and went into the shed for a shovel. Nanna had said she would ‘know’ where to find it, she thought as she surveyed the overgrown backyard garden. She didn’t and she wondered if she was going to be digging for the rest of her life in search of it.

Sighing, she began to wander around, trying to think where her grandmother might have decided to bury it and finally came to a halt beside the old sundial that stood in the center of the garden. After staring at it blankly for some time, it finally dawned on her that the decorative symbols around the outer edge of the face of the sundial were the same as the symbol she’d seen in Caleb’s gate—Celtic in origin, she thought.

Strange! Somehow, she didn’t think Caleb’s origins, or at least his people’s, were Celtic, but then again she really didn’t know anything about the Raja.

She’d found Caleb because of the symbol, though.

She studied the sundial and then began digging at the foot of it at the point that marked mid-day—or mid-night. The witching hour. She’d only dug a few shovelfuls when she struck something beneath the dirt. Throwing the shovel aside, she got down on her knees and used her hands to clear away the last of the dirt.

The metal box she found was rusted, small wonder when her grandmother had to have to have buried it more than a decade before—before she’d gotten too sick and frail to tend her garden.

Lifting it, she sat back on her heels and brushed the dirt off, feeling her heart tighten with both pain and excitement. The latch was as rusted as the box itself and resisted her efforts to open it, but she finally managed to pry it up. When she opened the lid, the first thing her eyes lit upon was a sheaf of yellowed pages. Beneath them was a slender, leather bound volume, but she set the container and the book aside and unfolded the yellowed pages.

My dearest granddaughter,

I’m certain this looks to be a poor legacy, but its grander than you can possibly
imagine at this moment. The book I’ve left to you came to me from my mother, and to her
from her mother, going back beyond anyone’s memory, to the early Celtics as I
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understand it.

It was to have passed to your mother as it has always been passed from mother to
daughter, generation after generation, but she didn’t live to inherit her legacy and so I
pass it to you, knowing that soon, at long last, you’ll have the power to use it. Even now,
as your babes grow in your belly, you’re maturing into the powerful witch you were born
to be, awaiting only the birth of your first born to fully blossom. You’ll be far more
powerful than I ever was, for only those gentle souls of good heart are allowed to wield
the strongest magic. Its the balance of nature and I was far too hardhearted to be given
such power.

I didn’t make little Johnny’s dick fall off, though! I would’ve if you hadn’t
intervened on his behalf, mind you, but I always looked to you to guide my conscience—

or to be my conscience.

The house, as you may have noticed, has taken on a life of its own from the
generations of witches who’ve lived here and woven their spells, but you are its mistress
now. The first spell will open the door to your lovers when you’re ready to allow them
in, but if you find that your trust has been misplaced you need only reverse it to oust them
once more. I trust your wisdom. I trust your heart.

Enjoy your life to the fullest and never let anyone convince you that you don’t
have that right!

With all my love,

Nanna

The words blurred before her eyes when she’d read to the end, more because it hadn’t occurred to her that her grandmother might’ve written her something before she died than from the contents, although that brought her a sense of peace. All this time it had lain there while she’d wished for just a few words from her grandmother! Some guidance!

She pressed it to her breast, closing her eyes, trying to feel her grandmother’s touch from the yellowed piece of paper.

She couldn’t, and it made the urge to cry stronger for many moments.

Lifting it away finally, she read the last few lines again and uttered a watery chuckle. Nanna had left her the key to opening the door for her lovers and gently warned her at the same time not to let her heart overrule her common sense.

When she lifted her head, she stared at Caleb’s blurry image. He was standing beside the shed as Constantine had only a few nights before, studying her with a quizzical expression.

She blinked to clear her vision, feeling her heart soar. She had a legacy to pass to her daughter and three of the most wonderful lovers! She should never have doubted her grandmother!

“Hello, my love,” she murmured.

He tilted his head curiously and then his gaze sharpened and he lifted his arms to
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beckon her to come to him. “Hello, my love.”

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The high pitched yelp that followed on the heels of several sharp yips finally penetrated Bronwyn’s sated haze. She sat up abruptly. Caleb caught her hand when she started to rise and she glanced back at him a little irritably.

“They’re fine.”

“That didn’t sound like ‘fine’ to me. I need to check on them.” Climbing from the bed, she slipped into a robe and tied it, then strode briskly from the bedroom.

Chandler was yipping and growling by the time she reached the playroom. She saw immediately what had prompted the high pitched yelp. He had three furrows along his snout that had drawn blood. Gasping with concern, she dashed to Chandler and picked him up to examine the damage. He began wiggling excitedly the moment she cuddled him and surged toward her face, licking her all over before she could stop him.

She held him away, tamping the urge to chuckle and giving him a stern look instead.

“Naughty! Naughty! Boy! Change back, Chandler! Right now! You, too, Simon,” she added without looking at the cub watching the two of them through narrowed eyes.

Chandler gave her a sad puppy look, drawing his brows together and Bronwyn felt her heart melt. She wasn’t about to let him see it, though.

“I mean it! This instant.”

Sniffing, Chandler obeyed and she studied the scratches on his face critically. As relieved as she was to see that it wasn’t anything that he’d have trouble healing, she was still angry with both culprits. “No more of that!” she said firmly, softening the blow by kissing her son on the tip of his nose before she sat him down to play again.

She turned to look at Simon. He gazed back at her with wide, innocent eyes and she felt her lips twitch in spite of her determination to give them both a good scold.

Moving toward him, she crouched down to examine him for any injuries and discovered without much surprise that he was completely untouched. “Have you been playing with mommy’s spell again?” she demanded.

His look solemn, he shook his head slowly, but she noticed he put his hands behind his back to protect his rump. “That is very, very bad! Mommy put the holding spell on you to make sure you didn’t get into any trouble and what did you do?”

He blinked at her.

Caleb, who’d followed her into the room she saw disapprovingly without a stitch of clothing on, popped him lightly on the top of the head. “Evil child!” he said firmly.

“He is not evil!” Bronwyn snapped.

He thought it over, studied Chandler speculatively a moment and smiled down at his son. “Good boy!”

“Don’t help, Caleb!”

Shrugging, he turned and strolled out of the playroom. “I’ll be in our playroom,”

he murmured in a lazy drawl.

Simon grinned abruptly when she returned her attention to him, surging forward to wrap his arms tightly around her neck. “I wub you, mommy.”

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She hugged him tightly. “Mommy loves you, too, but I’m going to spank you if you do that again. Understand?” she said firmly when she’d pulled away from him and given him a stern look. “No more messing with my spells. No more shifting and above all no more fighting with your brother.”

He studied her solemnly. “He scaawed me. He baawked at me.”

She didn’t believe it for a moment, although she had no trouble believing Chandler had
wanted
to antagonize his brother. Shaking her head, she kissed him on the forehead and set him away from her. “Your daddy won’t be here long and I want to spend a little time with him. Play nice now and I’ll let you all play together in the backyard in a little bit. Ok?”

She encompassed all of them in that offer of a treat for good behavior.

Chandler nodded happily, bouncing up and down in excitement. Simon gave her a cat-like smile that made her immediately suspicious and Basil, she discovered, was very busy trying to pretend he was an angel.

Deciding they’d just grown bored with the toys she’d given them, she gathered up the toys and put them back and then found ‘new’ toys for them. When they’d settled to play, she wove a new holding spell around each that would give them plenty of room to move around but prevent them from getting to each other or into anything she thought might hurt them.

Upon consideration, she wove a second one around Simon.

His father was sprawled across her bed in lion form when she got back to the bedroom, flicking his tail impatiently. She gave him a look, but she couldn’t help but chuckle. “The house isn’t big enough for a chase and it’s daylight outside. We can’t terrorize the neighbors!”

He studied her from beneath hooded lids for a long moment and finally yawned hugely and settled his head on his front legs, closing his eyes. Shrugging, Bronwyn removed her robe and climbed in with him, snuggling close to nap with him. The moment she settled, however, he was on her. Rolling her onto her back, he planted his front legs on her arms to pin her to the bed and began licking her. Bronwyn struggled for a few moments and finally gave up, yielding herself to the delightful abrasion of his hot tongue as he methodically ‘bathed’ her from her neck all the way to her toes and then nudged her thighs apart and licked her cleft until she had to grab a pillow to muffle her screams.

He looked infinitely pleased with himself when he’d pumped into her until he’d spilled his seed and then sprawled beside her in human form once more. Bronwyn smiled inwardly. “What’s that satisfied smile all about?” she murmured lazily.

“I’m convinced I’ve gotten another son on you, my love,” he purred, stroking her rounded belly.

Bronwyn studied him a little doubtfully. “It’ll be daughters this time.”

“Three,” he agreed pleasantly. “And another son for me.”

Dismay flickered through her. “Caleb! You didn’t!”

“But I so enjoyed watching you suckle three infants, sweeting! You need four to even things out.” He studied the expression on her face with interest and finally relented, chuckling. “No, my love, I didn’t.” He leaned down to nuzzle his face against her neck.

“You can have another son for me next time.”

She popped his shoulder playfully. “No next time,” she said firmly.

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He lifted his head to study her face speculatively. “But, my love, I do so enjoy breeding you.”

She chuckled. “And you can breed me as often and thoroughly as you like, my love … as long you know you aren’t
actually
breeding me.”

He considered it. “We’ll see.”

The End

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Read an excerpt from Madelaine Montague’s upcoming August 2009 release.

Wolf

By

Madelaine Montage

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