Read Spirited Legacy (Lost Library) Online
Authors: Kate Baray
Tags: #Werewolves, #witches, #paranormal, #magic, #romance, #ghosts, #spirits, #wolves, #Urban Fantasy, #spells
Spirited Legacy (Lost Library)
Glossary of Some Things Magical
SPIRITED
LEGACY
A LOST LIBRARY NOVEL, BOOK 2
Kate Baray
Disclaimers
All characters, names, places and events in Spirited Legacy, a work of fiction, are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a purely fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.
Spirited Legacy. Copyright © 2014 by Catherine G. Cobb. All rights reserved. Cover by.Viola Estrella,
estrellacoverart.com
.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
facebook.com/katebaray
Kate Baray (2014-07-01). Spirited Legacy
Catherine G Cobb
.
ISBN-13:
978-0-9960578-5-1
Prologue
L
izzie felt a hard yank on her scalp. She wanted to cry out, but no sound emerged from her lips. Someone was dragging her down the garden path. Her muzzy, pain-filled brain tried to put the pieces together.
The painful pulling at her scalp was joined by a steady wrenching feeling in her shoulder. She must have passed out for a moment, because suddenly she was inside the house and being pulled across a floor. She could feel the wood floor and then the rug underneath her—but it was all distant and fuzzy, like she’d just woken from a dream but wasn’t yet able to think clearly or move. She could feel even those sensations start to slip away as her thoughts became hazier. A sharp pain pierced through the darkness. Her body slamming into a wall? A doorway? Briefly she tried to grab at the doorjamb she was being yanked past, but her fingers wouldn’t move to clench the frame.
She was so tired. Even the mounting terror couldn’t keep her awake. She didn’t want to die like this. She didn’t want to die
at all
, she thought right before she lost consciousness.
She woke briefly as a guard pulled her body this way and that, tying her feet. Her shoulder screamed with a tearing pain, and tears were running down her face. She could just barely make out Worth speaking in the background. He was giving instructions to one of his men for evacuation. As she struggled to hear anything that might hint at their destination, the guard had finished binding her feet and moved to her hands. He pulled her hands together, wrenching her damaged shoulder. She bit frantically down on the inside of her cheek as waves of pain tore through her. She didn’t want Worth to hear her scream, she thought, a fraction of a second before her mouth filled with her own blood, and she lost consciousness.
Chapter 1
Nine Days Earlier
H
ome for slightly more than twenty-four hours, Lizzie Smith was just starting to feel a little more like her old self again. She’d slept and slept. Apparently being kidnapped, rescued, rescuing others, and besting an evil genius made a girl tired. She smiled. After she’d slept—well, then she and John had
not
slept. A small blush bloomed at
those
thoughts. John Braxton, quite possibly the love of her life, Alpha of the Texas Lycan Pack, and completely gorgeous specimen of a man—she sighed.
Yum.
She snuggled closer to the solid warmth at her back. And then her stomach growled.
Her appetite had returned and then some. She hadn’t realized how little she’d been eating over the last several days. She’d dropped around ten pounds during the “Lizzie Kidnapped” episode of her life. She’d warned John not to get too used to the svelte her, because she had every intention of eating like a normal person again. He’d just looked at her like she’d grown an extra head.
At the sound of her growling tummy, he hopped out of bed and slipped on a pair of jeans.
“Eggs and bacon good?” he asked as he headed to the kitchen.
“Sounds lovely,” she’d replied to his retreating back.
Smart man.
She was settling into a deep, warm pile of sheets and comforter when her phone rang. She sighed. She’d been avoiding most calls since she got home. Avoiding life in general—work, laundry, leaving the house. But eventually, she’d have to return to the reality of her boring, normal existence. And John needed to check in with the Pack. That was a depressing thought and quashed any desire to continue lounging in sheets he’d warmed just moments before. She slid out of bed, pulling on her robe, and debated whether to answer.
She could hear John letting the dogs out in the yard as she picked up her phone. He really was a keeper. He’d already picked Beau and Vegas up from boarding at her friend’s mom’s house. Weirdly, they’d been fine with him after lots of sniffing and curious looks. Given their initial, highly suspicious and vocal reaction to him, it was a pleasant surprise.
She glanced at the caller ID screen before she answered…Idaho? “Yes?” The single word came out short, clipped, and irritated.
Wow, she must still be tired. That was
not
her typical phone etiquette.
“Lizzie?” a male voice inquired.
“Who is this?” she asked pointedly. Would her manners ever recover from this adventure?
“Lizzie Braxton? It’s Clark, Grant Clark. Calling to congratulate you on your union with Braxton.” Since Clark was Alpha of the Idaho Pack and a co-conspirator from the first time she’d been kidnapped, he should be concerned about her reaction to a phone call out of the blue. He may have aided John’s rescue, been respectful during her brief imprisonment, and seemed like a decent sort, but—he kidnapped her.
Clark waited until the silence was almost awkward, and when he continued his tone was cautious. “On behalf of Idaho, I’d like to extend official congratulations. It is our hope you’ll accept a token of our good will and look to the future, not the past, in building a relationship with Idaho.”
Then she realized she’d missed something.
What?
The doorbell rang. She was already on her way to answer it, when her good manners kicked in and she replied, “Thank you, Mr. Clark. I’m afraid now isn’t a good time, but I appreciate your call.” Click.
Appreciate, my ass.
Her thoughts were sinking well into the depths of profanity when she answered the door to a UPS deliveryman and a florist delivery driver. “Lizzie Braxton?” the florist inquired, politely.
In the silence, the UPS man shifted from foot to foot, clearly in a rush, and asked, “I need a signature. Can you sign for Elizabeth Braxton?”
She shut the door on them both, and…
“JOHN!!!” She couldn’t remember a time she’d yelled so loud. But if ever there was a time to start, it was now.
***
Two Days Later
“Are you speaking to me yet?” John asked her.
Lizzie gave the question serious thought before she answered. She sat down at the kitchen table, and after about three seconds, she said, “Hmm. No.”
John poured her a cup of strong tea and added a dash of milk, handing it to her before he sat down next to her at the head of the table. She couldn’t keep this up. The man knew how she liked her tea. And cooked her breakfast. The smell of perfectly crisped bacon was softening her resolve even faster than the sight of him sitting at her kitchen table. With his bright blue eyes, his slightly scruffy chin, and his long, muscular legs stretched out in front of him.
Hmm.
Maybe John rated a little higher than bacon.
Sitting down at her kitchen table across from a man she was not speaking to, Lizzie’s expressive face scrunched up in a frown as she remembered Zack Worth, the man who had orchestrated most of the grief she’d suffered over the last few weeks.
“Stop it,” John said. “You’ll ruin a beautiful day, and he’s just not worth it.” He paused a moment, then smiled wryly and said, “No pun intended.”
She looked at him as he quietly drank a cup of coffee, his dark hair sticking up at odd angles. It was frustrating that he was so composed, so at home. As if their adventure several days earlier, and now their fight, didn’t bother him at all.
His reference to Worth was right on the mark. She was dwelling on that horrible man, and thinking about him would ruin an otherwise beautiful day. The fact that John knew her so well after such a short time made him even more appealing. He was very nearly her perfect man. But two days ago—one day after she’d shared her growing feelings with him—she’d discovered a problem. She woke up after a mind-blowing evening of just-rescued-from-near-death sex to find that her last name had mysteriously changed—at least, within the magic-using community. And Lycan society recognized her as John’s mate.
The plane ride home after the confrontation with Worth in Prague was a little hazy. She’d been tired—exhausted, actually—but she did remember the excitement she’d felt when John asked her to be his mate. How could she not? After the flirting and tension, the growing feelings she’d held close to her chest, and the agonizing fear she’d experienced when Worth had begun to steal John’s magic, she was thrilled to have their relationship out in the open and official.
Was she giddy from their victory over Worth? Tired from days of sleep deprivation? Or just so excited that she and John were finally together after so much had happened that she wasn’t thinking straight? Whatever the reason, she had failed to ask about the odd wording that John had used. He’d asked her to be his mate. And she’d said yes. She was an idiot. Wait a minute.
“You even said it was like being your girlfriend. I remember that now. It wasn’t just me being a complete idiot. You said that.” Her tone was thoughtful. She’d been about as mad at herself over the last few days as she’d been at John. Maybe she’d been too hasty. Just maybe she’d been justified in her anger at John, and she wasn’t as responsible for this mess as she’d been feeling.
“So you are speaking to me?” he asked.
She just ignored the question, waiting.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yes. I don’t remember the specifics, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if I used the word girlfriend.”
Lizzie considered misleading her to think they were only dating, when she’d actually agreed to something much more serious, to be a large flaw in her nearly perfect boyfriend’s character.
The magic-using community considered them married for all intents and purposes, but she’d never been properly asked and certainly hadn’t gotten a ceremony. Or a party. Hell, not even a ring. She reminded herself that she wasn’t upset that she had no ring.
Really.
She was upset at her ass of a boyfriend because he unilaterally decided on the next huge step in their relationship. And then announced it to the Lycan world.
Granted, he had his reasons. She glared at him over her tea. Her tasty, prepared-by-John tea. And just like that, some of her anger slipped away.
John must have caught the glare, because he said, “What? What did I do this time?”
Maybe two days of silence, and pouting, was enough. Lizzie was an honest person. She even tried to be honest with herself. So she admitted it. Juvenile as it was, she’d pouted. She sighed.
She mentally girded herself. Then she said, “Let’s talk.” She hadn’t literally been silent for two days, just silent on the subject of Lycan mates, meeting the Pack, and her future with John. She thought she was justified in her anger. She was a grown woman, more than capable of making her own decisions, and he had yanked this momentous decision right out of her hands.
She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do or how she felt, other than angry. But she wasn’t so mad she was seeing red—literally. The first time he’d tried to explain his actions there had been red sparkles. And not the pretty kind—the scary, uncontrollable magic kind. Her magic did weird things when she experienced strong emotions, so she’d decided to give herself a little time to calm down. Because she wasn’t so angry that she wanted anything or anyone to explode—or start bleeding. She thought of the house in Prague where Worth had held her, of seeing Worth moments before he’d fled the house. He’d bled from his nose, ears, and eyes. She shuddered, her insides suddenly feeling ten degrees colder. She’d done that.