fate of the alpha - episode 1 (9 page)

Instead, the ball of energy crashed into the tree next to him, splintering it instantly into a million pieces.

The blue energy flickered out of Ainsley’s eyes.

Recognition softened her features.

“Help!” she called.

Her voice was high and reedy, utterly unlike her usual throaty purr.

Julian’s gaze dropped to the body at her feet.

Erik Jensen. He was unconscious, but sweating and moaning in pain.

“Please, I’m afraid I’m going to lose him!”

“Let’s get him to your house.”

Ainsley began to lift her mate in lieu of answering. Julian moved to help her.

A growl ripped out of her throat and he cringed reflexively.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, embarrassed.

“It’s very natural that you’re protective,” he tried to keep the shock out of his voice.

Ainsley hoisted Erik’s body like he was a child and draped his form over her shoulder.

“Let’s go,” she said, seemingly unbothered by the large man’s weight.

Ainsley was strong. Julian knew she would be, but her wolf qualities always seemed to surprise him. He had met her when she was almost all human.

They moved quickly and in silence until they got to the edge of the woods. They would have to cross the construction site and Yale Avenue to get to Ainsley’s house on Princeton. The streets were mostly empty, and Ainsley didn’t seem to be concerned with being seen by anyone.

They rounded the corner onto Princeton and Ainsley sped up again. She took the porch steps in a single leap, as though she weren’t carrying a full-grown man on her shoulder.

Grace Kwan-Cortez perched on the edge of the wicker sofa waiting for them.

Julian felt his heart lurch.

“I came as soon as I got your call,” she said in her soft, clear voice.

Julian didn’t remember Ainsley getting out her phone.

He was very glad to see Grace. This time he was determined not to be an ass.

“Let’s get him inside,” Ainsley said in a flat voice.

She carried Erik through the cozy living room with its built-in bookshelves. Julian couldn’t help but flash back to the moment they had let him in, in spite of everything, and he’d been allowed to explain himself. It was hard to believe that the angry young man who had been ready to send him packing was limp in Ainsley’s arms right now.

By the time they helped her lay Erik gently on the dining room table he was so pale he looked almost inhuman.

“Do you have a blanket?” Julian asked.

Ainsley nodded and sprinted upstairs.

Not wanting to look at Erik’s writhing naked body, Julian was left looking over the table at Grace. He hoped not in a lewd manner.

It was difficult to look at her at all without thinking of freeing her shining hair from the pony tail and running his fingers through it. He imagined it would smell like a summer night with evening jasmine blooming and fireflies winking in the plush darkness.

Ainsley was back and wrapped the blanket around her mate with such care. It seemed that she thought that maybe if she did it just right he would open his eyes and be well again.

“Can you tell me exactly what happened?” Julian asked.

She took a careful breath.

“We were walking in the woods. All of a sudden the leaves were circling me and there was this strange glowing pattern in them. And it turned into a snake. I was frozen in place. And just as it was about to bite me, Erik shifted and knocked me out of the way. And it bit him-”

She pressed her lips together tightly, unable to continue.

Dear god, the snake. Julian recognized the elements of that spell. Did this mean that Erik…?

He studied the younger man’s face out of the corner of his eye.

Erik did seem somehow…less.

But it could also be that he was passed out and in pain.

“Whoever set this trap is very, very good. I remember this spell from the book and it is a very difficult one,” Julian said.

“What do we do?” Ainsley asked.

“I don’t remember anything about a reversal or a cure,” Julian said carefully.

“The first thing to do for a snakebite is get out the poison,” Grace said firmly.

“This is not an
actual
snakebite. A cottage spell for venom doesn’t apply.”

Julian heard the dismissive tone in his voice as soon as the words were said. But he couldn’t take them back. So much for not being an ass.

Though he wasn’t a wolf, he could practically smell Grace’s disgust.

What was the matter with him?

“Turn him over,” Grace said calmly.

Ainsley turned Erik over like a mother rolling over a sleeping baby. A gasp escaped her as she saw the extent of the injury.

The wound was purple and swollen to the size of a softball. Black lines spread from it like a rotten spiderweb.

“It smells like…death,” Ainsley whispered.

Grace was unwavering. She traced a circle in the air over the wound with her arms, then another.

“This is going to be rough. Get him something to bite down on in case he wakes up in the middle.”

Ainsley dashed to the kitchen and came back with a wooden spoon. She placed it on the table next to Erik, then began to pace up and down the room.

Grace took a few deep breaths, drawing herself up to her fullest possible height.

She reached out over Erik once more. Her arms were strong, her movements fluid and graceful. Julian was reminded once again of a ballerina.

Slowly and deliberately she made motions as though she were gathering up cotton candy. Then she pulled.

Erik screamed. Ainsley placed the big end of the spoon in her mate’s mouth, and he bit down hard enough to make indentations in the wood.

Nothing happened to the wound.

Ainsley resumed her pacing. Four steps toward the kitchen, four steps back. The look on her face was terrifying.

Julian let out his breath slowly. Grace’s sheer determination had made him half expect her improvised spell to actually work.

“Damn it!” Grace hissed, squaring her small shoulders and beginning again.

Julian studied her face, sweat beaded on her brow and she breathed hard and fast, as though she were lifting a huge weight.

Grace wasn’t using the correct words - or
any
words. Her posture was dreadful and her breathing was worse. How could she possibly expect anything to happen?

Erik screamed again through clenched teeth.

Julian opened his mouth to shut her down. There was no point torturing the poor man.

A wisp of silver trickling out of Erik’s wound froze the protest in his throat.

The silver trickle had the appearance of oily smoke. It trailed upward, and hung in the air just over Erik’s back, shimmering in the light of the old chandelier.

Grace continued her labor, she was practically panting now. Sweat ran from her face down her neck and dampened the collar of her t-shirt.

The ominous smoke began to form a small silver cloud. More and more came out in silvery ribbons, like a stage magician pulling an unending scarf.

As Grace pulled, the swelling went down and the spiderweb of black on Erik’s back receded.

She was powerful. Incredibly powerful. Julian was thunderstruck. What could be the price for such magic?

Before he could try to imagine, the last wisp of smoke escaped Erik’s wound and the whole cloud dissolved like fog on the wind.

Incredible.

Ainsley went to Erik and rolled him gently onto his side.

He was out again, but his expression was peaceful now and his breathing steady.

Ainsley cradled Erik’s head tenderly in her arms. The indescribable expression with which she studied him thrust Julian far back in his memory to a visit to
La Pieta.
Ainsley’s ecstasy and despair reminded him of the Mother. A moment so intimate that Julian had to look away.

Grace lifted her eyes to meet his.

He braced himself for the comeuppance he richly deserved.

It never came. Grace’s knees buckled.

Julian was just able to catch her.

Here it was, the magic would take its price. She would be lucky to survive.

He was surprised to notice how good she felt in his arms. Her small body was very feminine in spite of its straight lines and hard angles. Somehow she fit him exactly. She smelled just like the jasmine he had dreamt of, but she was burning hot - her clothes were soaked through and clung to her frame.

Her eyelids fluttered, and then he was rewarded with that sable gaze. She observed him with confusion. And something else.

Something in her disposition had changed. Her fierceness was gone.

Why was she looking at him that way - like a fox in a henhouse?

Though Julian did not want to take advantage of her in her weakened state, his body did not agree. He could already feel himself responding to the question in her eyes. His heart pounded.

Her lips parted and he longed to taste her.

As if in a dream, she lifted herself to him, fulfilling his wish with a kiss so light it maddened him.

He forgot himself then and pulled her close, coaxing her mouth open and tasting her. She tasted like citrus and he could feel her tiny nipples press into his chest, hard as pebbles. She was warm, so warm. Too warm.

Just as he remembered the circumstances and tried to pull back, he felt the bite of her nails on his chest.

He groaned as the bittersweet pleasure overtook him and he dove back into her, not caring about anything except losing himself in her.

Grace seemed to melt into him. Her hands slid down from his shoulders to mold his chest, then further still.

His erection strained against his trousers, anticipating her gentle touch.

Instead, she stiffened in his arms and pulled away.

Her absence left him cold and aching. He closed his eyes for a second to try and find his balance.

When he opened them, he found Ainsley was staring at him in wonder.

Grace ducked her head and darted out of the room.

“I have to go,” she called as the front door slammed behind her.

Julian stood speechless, feeling for all the world like Cinderella’s prince at midnight.

CHAPTER 11

G
race burst in the door of her apartment and pulled it shut behind her, then leaned back against it, panting.

Now that she was home safely, she had no idea what to do. She realized in a panic that she felt no better than she had when she left Ainsley’s house. Her breasts ached and her nipples were so hard they hurt. She had never been taken by the feelings so completely.

Against her wishes, she thought of Julian’s kiss. His body had been so perfectly matched to hers, and his tongue. Oh god.

Her phone began to buzz.

Damn it.

It would be Ainsley.

Wondering why Grace had been all over Julian.

In total violation of the code of friendship as pertained to ex-boyfriends.

And more importantly, as Ainsley’s true mate lay practically dying and bereft of his nature.

How could she explain that the magic had made her forget…herself? That she had known nothing except the exquisite touch of the man who held her?

A man who didn’t respect her, she reminded herself, and whom she found to be pompous and repugnant.

What was
with
Julian Magie?

If it weren’t for the fact that he clearly held her in contempt, she would have been sure he had put a spell on her.

Why did she feel like the earth was dropping out from under her every time she saw him? She pictured him arriving at Ainsley’s tonight and how he had looked at her in that strange hopeful way. Her belly clenched with desire.

The phone stopped buzzing, and Grace decided it was best to call Ainsley when she was feeling better. Right now she could still taste Julian in her mouth, feel his body wrapped around hers.

It was only the healing spell, she told herself. She had never used so much magic at one time.

Oh god, the migraine that was going to come from this would be crushing.

She ran to the bathroom and began emptying the medicine cabinet. She wondered vaguely if it was possible that she might end up with an aneurysm or something.

Her doctor had given her a small bottle of serious migraine medicine last month - it had to be there somewhere.

There was a knock at the door.

Great.

The lights were on. Her car was out front. There was no use hiding.

She opened the front door, expecting the accusing stare of her best friend.

Instead, Landon’s tall frame filled the doorway.

“You aren’t answering your phone, I was worried.”

There was a tiny instant when Grace thought that maybe she could tell him she had the flu.

But when he gave her a gentle smile it was all over.

She grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt and dragged him in, trying not to notice the stunned expression on his face.

Grace’s apartment was the third floor of a large Victorian that had been divided into three units. The ceilings were charmingly sloped and gave the place a cozy feel.

But Landon’s height made the house feel miniature. Or maybe it was the other way around. Did the house make Landon seem larger than life? The
Alice and Wonderland
question banged around senselessly somewhere in Grace’s head as she kicked the door shut behind him.

He looked down at her in eager confusion. He seemed to like this version of Grace.

“Hi-”

The deep male note in his voice took away the last of Grace’s defenses.

She planted her hands against his chest and went up on her toes to seal his lips with a kiss.

He stilled a moment in surprise and then relaxed into her.

When she wrenched a fistful of his curls to pull him deeper into the kiss, he moaned.

She took the opportunity to slip her tongue into his open mouth.

He tasted like Tic Tacs and hamburgers. Probably a pretty typical guy taste. Grace stroked his tongue with hers.

His surprise subsided and his desire ramped up to match hers then.

Grace gasped as Landon broke their kiss to spin them around and press her against the door with his hips.