Tempestuous Miracles

Tempestuous Miracles

Bearers Book 2

Copyright 2015 Anya Byrne

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

All Romance Edition October 2015

All Romance Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please forward them a link to buy their own copy, or use the gift function available on your All Romance account. Thank you for respecting the hard work and livelihood of this author.

This book is a work of fiction, not to be confused with fact, advice or suggestion. The characters are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons is purely coincidental. Cover art is for illustration purposes only.

Blurb:

As a pure-blooded male Bearer, Mirian Lamine has always been aware of the danger that comes with his legacy. Seeking to protect him, his father spirits him away to an island in the middle of nowhere. And Mirian is grateful, he is, but he also feels increasingly restless, the refuge of his childhood home now nothing more than a gilded cage. He feels like he is waiting for something—but what?

The answer comes in the wake of a devastating storm, and in the person of a handsome werewolf who braves it just for Mirian's sake.

For Frey King, the simple and quite frankly unbearable boating trip changes when he catches sight of the small mysterious island. When the tempest erupts, he knows something is waiting for him out there, and he is willing to do anything to find his future.

But when the two of them meet, will Frey's determination be enough to convince Mirian of his honesty? Can a Bearer who has lived most of his life isolated and kept away from the world adapt to the idea of being a werewolf's mate? With all odds stacked against them, it might just take a miracle for the couple to find their happily ever after.

Warning: Gay erotic romance. The material in this document contains explicit sexual content that is intended for mature audiences only. All characters involved are adults capable of consent, are over the age of twenty-one, and are willing participants.

30,805 words

Table of Contents

Tempestuous Miracles

About the Author

Other titles by Anya Byrne

Tempestuous Miracles

Bearers Book 2

Anya Byrne

Copyright 2015

Prologue

"No. I refuse." Proctor clenched his fists, white-hot anger coursing through him. "My son is not a piece of meat for you to barter away."

His father gave him an arctic, bland look. "As I said," he stated, "having a Bearer in the family is quite fortunate. We must be prepared to make the most advantageous match for Mirian."

Proctor glowered at the older man, unable to believe what he was hearing. He had known Duke Lamine was cold-hearted, but he hadn't expected anything like this. In hindsight, he should have known better.

Mirian was only three years old, but already, it was suspected that he might be a Bearer. It was far too soon to make an even remotely accurate guess, but Proctor's heart told him that this was the case. Duke knew that too, so it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that he would already want to make preparations.

Proctor hated it. Mirian was so much like his beloved wife Miranda that it sometimes hurt to look at him. His marriage to Miranda had been arranged, but in the end, they'd loved one another in their own way. Unfortunately, Miranda had been unexpectedly struck down by a virus during her pregnancy. No one had known what to make of it, since apparently, she had never grown sick before.

She had survived just long enough to give birth to Mirian, kiss his forehead and plead with Proctor to keep their baby safe. Proctor had barely managed to make this oath before his wife had heaved her last breath.

And now, here he was, already failing. Mirian was the only thing he had left of his wife, and his father was threatening to hurt him, to take him away.

Proctor inhaled and exhaled deeply, struggling to calm down. He could not help his little boy if he lost his temper. Here, in his father's home, he had no power, and there was nothing he could do to convince the head of the family to listen to his pleas.

The solution was clear. They needed to leave. But to do that, Proctor had to be exceedingly careful. He couldn't be too subservient, since his father would see through his ruse, but he needed to tone down his resistance just the same.

"Father," he said, "Mirian is too young. There is no reason for this to become an issue until he reaches his majority."

His father shrugged. "This is only a preliminary conversation. If Mirian is not a Bearer, it will become irrelevant. However, I believe in being prepared and many of those who have met him have shown interest in him as a potential partner."

Proctor's stomach roiled at the idea of his little boy being assessed as a broodmare when he wasn't even old enough to understand what that meant. He swallowed around the knot in his throat. "What would you have me do?"

"I want you to work with me on this. Mirian is a... willful child, but he obeys you. If you tell him to befriend someone, he will make an effort. And as he grows up, I would like you to introduce the idea of his future wedding, so that by the time he is old enough, he will accept it and everything can go smoothly."

Proctor reluctantly admitted that this was not a terrible plan. In a twisted way, it was better for a child to gradually become accustomed to an idea, rather than suddenly confront him with it upon his majority.

When Miranda had come to him, she had been a terrified mess. She had feared him and she had not been ready for anything resembling sexual relations.

Proctor had given her time, stood up for her, protected her insofar as he'd been able to. In the long run, it had earned him her trust, if not her heart. Perhaps if things had been different, they could have been happy.

But Miranda was gone now, and Mirian was all he had left. It would be too easy to imagine Mirian, his little boy, in her position, terrified and trembling.

But no, this was all irrelevant. Proctor would not let it get to that. No one would touch Mirian as long as Proctor still drew breath.

"I take it you have already made a choice?" he asked.

"Indeed, although as you said, the introductions needn't happen at this time. The individual in question is only a little older than Mirian and belongs to a well-respected family. I'm sure that he will take good care of Mirian after the wedding. Presuming, of course, that Mirian is obedient."

Proctor schooled his face in a neutral mask and nodded jerkily. "I understand, Father. I will do my best to discuss the matter with my son in a way that is suitable for his age." He allowed his shoulders to slump in a gesture that overtly displayed dejection.

The play-acting seemed to convince his father, who beamed widely. "Excellent. I knew you'd see things my way. Dismissed."

Proctor suppressed a sigh of relief. With one last respectful nod to the cruel man he called a father, he left the office. He turned on his heel, intending to head toward Mirian's room—only to freeze in his tracks.

Mirian was standing in the center of the corridor, big green eyes wide with fright and betrayal. "A-Are you going to give me away?"

Proctor had no idea how much Mirian had heard, but it had clearly been enough for Mirian to draw his own terrifying conclusions. Damn it. A three year old shouldn't have been able to gather much from the conversation, but Mirian had always been incredibly smart, more so than most children his age put together. The idea that Mirian's intelligence could be squashed into nothing while he was used for his body tore at Proctor's heart as much as Miranda's death had.

Proctor desperately wanted to comfort his son. At the same time, he couldn't afford to have a conversation with Mirian in the hallway, where anyone could hear. To top it off, he had to be careful, lest he scare his beautiful boy even more.

Slowly, he walked to his son's side, and was gratified to see that Mirian did not flinch away from him. He crouched in front of Mirian and kissed his forehead. "I'd never give you away," he whispered, so that no one but Mirian would hear. "Remember this, my son. I will always protect you."'

Instantly, Mirian relaxed and slumped against his chest. "Promise, Papa?"

"I promise, Mirian." Proctor picked his son up in his arms. "And we'll start now. I'm going to need you to do what I say and not ask any questions. I promise I will explain everything once we are safe."

Despite what he had heard, Mirian nodded without hesitation. Proctor carried him into his room, closed the door with his foot and set him down. "Gather your favorite toys on the bed. Quickly now. Only the things you absolutely can't part with."

Mirian complied and started opening drawers and placing items on his mattress. While Mirian did this, Proctor set aside clothes, basic items, everything Mirian would need.

When he and Miranda had first married, Proctor had feared what his family would do to her should she continue being unable to go through with her marital duties. He'd started to set money aside and had made contingency plans in case they had to leave to keep her safe.

He had not expected to use the plan for Mirian's benefit, but he could only be grateful he had a starting point. As much as he needed to get Mirian out of here, he could not simply run from one of the most powerful pure-blooded human families in the world and hope for the best.

As he reviewed his plan, the door opened and Proctor went rigid. He half-expected his father to have pursued him, but no, that was not the case.

From the doorway, Mirian's nanny, Ariel, watched him with wide eyes. "What is happening, Young Master?"

Proctor looked at her appraisingly, considering his choices. Ariel was a good woman. She had no family to speak of, having been born without the ability to carry children. When she had first come to his employ, after Miranda's death, Proctor had expected her to be resentful of Bearers, who had been granted the gift she'd been denied. But it had soon become obvious that she loved Mirian as if he had truly come from her womb, and she was the only mother he had ever known.

Proctor did not have the heart to take one more thing from his beautiful son. "Pack your bags, Ariel," he said. "We're leaving."

Chapter One

Seventeen years later

Mirian sneaked through the forest, breathing in the fresh air with delight. He laughed gleefully as the warm breeze danced around him, ruffling his wild curls.

He was tired of being trapped behind the walls of their mansion. As much as he loved books, he sometimes just needed to feel the wind on his face, smell the clean scent of the sea. And it was such a beautiful day, perfect for going to one of his favorite spots.

The pond was nestled in the protective embrace of a grove of trees at least five time his age. It looked like something out of the books his father provided, picturesque and idyllic. A small waterfall sent clear waves tumbling in the miniature lake, its gentle susurrus a song tickling Mirian's consciousness. It was always so quiet and peaceful here. When he came to the pond, Mirian felt that nothing and no one could touch him. He felt like he was in a unique world of his own, where he could forget every dark secret and simply breathe. It meant more to him than it should have.

Mirian unpacked his bag and set a quilt down on the grass. He lay back, staring up at the greenery, reveling in the rays of the sun that filtered through the leaves. Up above, he could see a flock of birds flying, soaring through the clouds, free and unfettered. Freedom. Oh, how he craved it.

If Mirian had been a regular child, he would have likely resented his father for his protectiveness. There was only so much he could be expected to accept now that he'd become an adult, and there were lines his father had arbitrarily decided to cross.

But Mirian had always known that he was not a regular child. When he'd been younger, a small chance had still existed that he could be free of his legacy, but once he'd hit puberty, it had become obvious he would not be so lucky.

He was a Bearer, like the mother he had never known. For this simple reason, he was in danger of becoming nothing more than a tool for others to use.

There were very few clear memories Mirian had of his childhood years, but a few things stood out, unfogged by the passage of time. One of them was of the night they had left, and what he had heard of the conversation between his father and grandfather.

He hadn't actually understood everything then. He hadn't been able to figure out what could possibly be expected of him, and why his grandfather would want to hand him over to someone else. He'd believed he'd done something wrong—his grandfather had often given him inscrutable looks when he spoke out of turn, especially about new things he'd tried or done.