Rewind & Go: A Blue-Collar Billionaire Romance (Sander's Valley Book 1) (16 page)

“Nope. You’re not stupid. You’re just an idiot.”

Sean laughed. “Yeah? What’s the difference?”

“You know the facts. You’re just choosing to ignore them.”

Noah had a point. Sean wouldn’t deny that. He grunted and turned his attention to the backyard. “I’m not shifting until I’m sure I have control over my instincts.”

“And when’s that going to be?”

“Soon.” Or not.

Silence descended in the room while his wolf’s growls reverberated within him, building the pressure behind his eyes. Finally, Noah sighed, breaking the tense moment. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Nic? Any word from him?”

“He called this morning.” Actually, Nic called every day with the same question—how’s Riley? The human female he’d fallen in love with and tried to mate had ruined him, but it wasn’t her fault or his that she’d been born the wrong species. Fate had screwed them both and guaranteed neither would be happy.

“Did he say when he’s coming home?”

“Not until it’s time for his dad to pass on our pack spirit. He wants to enjoy life before he has to pick a shifter female to mate. He’s in no rush to be saddled with a breeding partner.”

“Saddled? Well, that’s a shitty way to look at it. Being mated is a wonderful experience.”

“How would you know? Yours—” Sean groaned and dropped his head against the cool glass. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“And completely out of character for you.” No anger darkened Noah’s voice, only understanding. He laid a comforting hand on Sean’s shoulder. “It’s going to get worse. You need to shift and accept what you are. Fighting it is only going to make all your moods stronger, from ones of aggression to passion.”

“You think I don’t know that? It’s why I’ve been fighting to get my wolf to obey me. Without Nic here…” He shook his head, disgusted by his instincts.

“Without Nic here to claim the spirit wolf from his aging father, you’re driven to secure your position in the pack, so you can take over as alpha.”

Noah voiced the truth that had plagued Sean since Nic took off six months prior. In Sean’s wolf’s eyes, Nic’s absence offered Sean the opportunity to seize the most revered role a shifter could hold. His wolf didn’t care that Sean had no desire to be alpha or that the official challenge would claim the life of Nic’s father. It wanted the power the top spot offered.

“I’m newly matured, and I’m horny. I know that’s normal, but every unmated female I come across stirs me. I don’t know if my interest is purely physical or if, subconsciously, I’m shopping for a mate.” Because without a mate to birth him an heir, he’d never be able to hold on to the spot.

Noah dropped his hand. “Stop fighting your wolf and trust yourself. That’s the best advice I can give. There’re no guarantees in life or in love. Remember that. You make a choice, then live with it.”

Sean raised a brow. “Speaking from experience?”

“Yeah.” Noah spun on his heel and walked toward the door. “Call if you need me. It’s not like I have anything better to do with my life.”

The front door banged shut behind him. Sean stared at it for a minute, then grabbed his wallet. “Well, I do, and it involves me, some whiskey and maybe a few beers.”

And a bar where he’d be sure not to stumble across any shifter females.

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His vow to save mankind turns him into the father of the damned…

Wild Hunt, book 0.5

Arawn, Lord of the Underworld, is faced with the hardest decision of his long life. Because of his neglect, humans are suffering…but his vow to make things right could cost him everything he holds dear.

Minerva, the Goddess of Love, holds his heart and soul, but the act he must now commit might very well destroy their love.

His sacrifice doesn’t go far enough to end the humans’ agony. It compounds it—and turns him into a pawn. He cannot renege on his deal with the Triad, but he can avenge those he’s wronged.

To do that, he’ll need every one of his Huntsmen to win the greatest game of all time—the Wild Hunt.

Warning: Goodness and light vs. sacrifice and darkness. Seriously, what could possibly go wrong?

Chapter ONE

Screams reverberated inside Arawn’s head. He knew the story behind each one, had shared in their agony and had experienced their deaths. All had been avenged. None would be forgotten. It was his gift and a reminder of why he oversaw the punishment of the corrupt. Or so the Triad had told him the day he was chosen as the Lord of the Underworld.

The day he was sacrificed.

Damned and forgotten.

Hands clenched, he strode across the balcony of his fortress. At the railing, he stopped and swept his gaze over his realm. The endless barren landscape offered little in the way of scenery or comfort. It wasn’t meant to give any.

The unfortunate beings who found themselves on the desolate plains stayed only long enough to be judged before moving to the lower sections of Hell, where they faced their eternal punishment. The nine shimmering portals dotting the horizon provided access to each level. He studied the barriers, looking for any additional signs of deterioration. All remained secured. He nodded, pleased that his efforts to mend them had found some measure of success. The horrors and inhabitants contained within the Underworld could not be released, not ever again.

The demon sentinels who guarded the gateways understood the dangers and the penalties if they failed in their role. Arawn had made sure of it, and those who obeyed his command were richly rewarded. Few offered him their allegiance, however. They were demons after all, and he was a god.

Revered, envied, feared and…

Blessed.

Arawn cracked his jaw. The knowledge that he was the Triad’s favored servant, the one chosen to act as its hand in the never-ending battle against evil, didn’t comfort him or make his endless existence worthwhile. Only one thing did… One person, actually.

Minerva.

Silver hair and eyes, the face an angel and the body of a succubus—she was beautiful. As a goddess of love, she would be. He craved her touch, savored her every kiss and found heaven each time he joined their bodies.

He closed his eyes and conjured her face, allowing the wonder she bestowed upon him to seize him. The screeches and moans echoing within him faded to murmurs. He sighed in relief. Peace filled him. Fleeting, yes. The second her image slipped from the forefront of his mind, the endless anguish he experienced would return.

He treasured the moment. It would have to last. What he planned would take his personal heaven from him, at least for a little while.

I have no other choice. My wrong must be righted.

The truth didn’t erase the sin he would soon commit, nor did it justify his past actions. It was all he had to give his mate, however.

It wasn’t enough. Nothing was.

On a weary exhale, he opened his eyes, letting Minerva’s image scatter, lost to his memory. The endless expanse of the Underworld greeted him. The shrieks and pleas of victims returned, ten times worse than they had gripped him before. Dots spread over his vision, and the pressure behind his eyes built. He breathed through the sensation until the dizziness passed. One more deep inhale, and he steadied himself, pushing back the weakness only Minerva knew about.

He turned his back on the domain he’d been tasked to oversee and made his way inside, each step slower than the last. Choices, past and present, weighed him down. They couldn’t be ignored, however. He’d picked his path, and the consequences of his decision were inescapable.

At his office, he straightened his spine, then flung the door open.

Lucas, the Demon King, stood with his hands clasped behind his back and his gaze on Minerva’s portrait. He glanced over his shoulder. His plain brown eyes held curiosity. “You summoned me?”

Arawn shut the door behind him. “I am leaving the Underworld, and I want you to maintain my rule while I’m gone.”

Lucas raised a brown brow, the only sign of his shock. “And how do you plan to pull off such a feat? You are tied to this realm, as I am.”

“Through my mate’s connection to the heavens.” She just didn’t know she’d be helping him yet.

“I see.” Lucas faced Minerva’s portrait. “She plans to leave the Underworld too? I thought she’d vowed to remain here under your”—he cleared his throat—“protection.”

Protection.
Arawn almost snorted at the demon’s word choice. None of the creatures in the Underworld would dare harm Minerva. No, it wasn’t protection Arawn offered her but relief. Within his realm of desolation, she thrived.

“She will remain here, and you will distract her from the unfortunate side effect of her position.”

“I am an incubus.” A leering grin spread over Lucas’s ordinary face. “The only comfort I can give is sex.”

Arawn didn’t bother responding to the demon’s taunting. For one, Arawn didn’t doubt his mate’s love or fidelity. More importantly, he knew what Lucas wanted above all else, and it had nothing to do with sex.

“Do so, and I will revoke my pardon. You and your
flock
will descend into the lowest pits of Hell.”

Lucas stepped forward, body tensed and hands balled into fists. “You need me to corral all the demon species. I am their king. You promised—”

“I promised nothing. Fear kept the lesser demons in check before you arrived. It will do so again if you lose your position. Do not forget why you were sentenced here.” Arawn motioned toward the body Lucas inhabited. “Or our deal.”

Lucas’s nostrils flared on his rough inhales. Finally, he cursed. “So be it.”

“Good.” Arawn nodded. “Until I return, then.”

He opened the door and stepped out, leaving Lucas behind in his temporary office.

“You plan to stop Dagda?”

The mention of his enemy sent a wave of anger through Arawn. Sharpened nails punched from the ends of his fingers. Fangs descended, and his jaw lengthened. He embraced the change, allowing the black, scaled beast feared by the humans to claim him. His massive wings unfolded. One flap, two, and he closed the distance between himself and the demon who focused on Arawn’s wings, envy darkening his eyes.

Arawn crouched and tipped up Lucas’s chin with a curled talon. “That name is not to be spoken. Dagda is dead.”

“The fairy king is not dead.” Lucas narrowed his eyes. “He is Dar now, leader of the Unseelie Court, and transformed into a being even the Triad cannot touch.”

Arawn leaned closer. “Diseased, not transformed.”

He shoved the other male. Lucas flew backward and hit the desk, knocking over the wooden table. Scrolls and tomes fell. A crystal decanter followed. The bottle smashed, spilling wine over the millennium-old works. Neither of them glanced at the ruined pieces. Their gazes remained locked.

“Diseased, yes.” Lucas pushed to his feet. “But be mindful of your words. Dagda is not dead, nor is he weak. He grows stronger every day, and soon he will make good on his promise.”

To unleash his Court upon the mortal realm. Only Arawn stood in Dagda’s way.

Arawn allowed his winged form to recede and met Lucas’s accusing glare. Arawn didn’t bother arguing. The demon was right. Instead, Arawn offered the other male the one thing that would guarantee he carried out Arawn’s order without question—hope.

“I will return soon. Maintain my realm, and I will revoke my hold over you. You will no longer need to fear punishment at my hand.”

Lucas sucked in a breath. “You vow it.”

A vise squeezed Arawn’s chest and a sense of foreboding settled over him, but he knew it could not be avoided. Lucas was the only male Arawn trusted enough not only to oversee the workings of the Underworld but to guard the destructive powers it contained.

Arawn nodded. “I vow it.”

“And my followers? Do you vow not to punish them?”

“No, demon.” Arawn laughed. “I do not.”

“But they are innocent. They—”