28 AURORA
“Motherfucker!”
“Keep your head in the game, fuckwit,” Basil mutters from the driver's seat.
“I’m trying,” I snap at him.
It’s all very well to be critical, but increasing a spell to encompass two huge shifters is not easy.
Basil rolls his eyes. “They’re dog meat,” he nods to Tally and London, “if you can’t work that shit out,”
Young Basil is not helping my anxiety or my concentration.
I move a couple of steps further from the LandRover, focusing on my two beasts. Tally stands in his massive, golden-furred wolf form, his jaw tight and his ears pinned back.
Beside him, London is fully-shifted and currently in a handstand and counting Mississippis. “Hold still!” I hiss at him. I still haven’t mastered enough of this cast to keep them both covered for more than a few minutes.
“This time,” I whisper to myself, swallowing the lump of dread in my throat and forcing my hands to steady.
My fingers begin the intricate, rhythmic sweeping patterns my magic tutor made me practice. Professor Altman.
She had not been patient with me, and had no problem sending electric shocks into my body if I didn’t perfectly execute her demands.
I had been a lazy student. I didn’t want to learn those stupid spells. The one that kept my hair neatly styled instead of using hairspray. The skin shimmer spell, that left a ‘delightful’ glow on one's cheeks.
So very useless and a waste of time.
Except this "lady's utility charm" is turning out to be absolutely necessary to our plan.
Should have paid better attention.
Too late now.
Once again, I alter the intent slightly, changing the focus from unladylike odors, to innate creature scent.
The air swirls around my hands.
This is good.
Now I’ve got to size-up.
The cast collapses again.
Fuck my life.
This is the one thing I can do to help, and I’m fucking failing.
Wump-ppp.
Wump-ppp.
The threads that lead from my chest vibrate in panic.
A rush of emotion floods into me from London and Tally.
I can feel the difference between their bonds. Tally’s is a fierce, bone-deep protectiveness. Even though he’s running on fumes, his soul is a shield clamped firmly in front of me.
Then there is London.
His thread is a live wire, vibrating with so much life. He responds to my dread with a glowing, knowing assurance. His belief in me is unyielding and beautiful. I can almost see myself through his eyes.
A goddess who can achieve the impossible.
If only that were true.
Feeling them in my heart, a profound, overwhelming realization settles deep into my bones.
I love them.
Both.
I love Tally for the quiet weight of his strength and the way he carries the world on his raw knuckles just to keep me, and the people we love, safe.
I love London for his chaotic grace, his hidden depths, and the fact that his beast will go to war for me without a single hesitation.
They are my men.
My pack.
And I will tear my own soul apart before I let any more harm come to them. I won’t fail them like I did Francois.
Francois.
Fuck!
I gasp, my hand snapping to my sternum as a sudden, blistering heat sears inside my ribcage.
“Rory?” Basil snaps, his head whipping toward me. “Did you do it?”
“No,” I breathe, closing my eyes for a moment. “It’s not that.”
The golden wire connecting me to Francois is fizzing. It’s a hundred times stronger than it’s ever been before.
He’s close.
And not harmed.
I sag back, the feeling of relief making me realize something.
I think I also love Francois.
It doesn’t seem possible, but it might just be true.
And being able to sense him again brings a peace that crystalizes something inside me.
Shit! I know how to fix this fucking stupid spell.
I march over to my two beasts and begin.
This time, the casting seems to lower the temperature of the air and a breeze rushes around my knuckles. The wind spills over the faun and the wolf. I can’t see a change of color with my eyes, but in my mind’s eye the winds contain sparkles of gold and lilac.
So beautiful.
Focusing my intensity, I pour out the spell and the magic doesn’t resist my command at all.
It soaks into them and settles.
Lowering my hands, a grin splits my face.
I fucking did it.
Within a second, there is the familiar rippling crack of bones, and the massive golden wolf reforms into the broad-shouldered frame of Taliesin.
London follows suit, his ears and horns melting back into his messy hair until he’s just a regular guy, or I guess I should say, bloke, standing in an oversized floral cardigan.
They both have their eyes firmly fixed on me, and I know they feel it. Through those golden anchors vibrating inside my ribs, they feel every single ounce of the all-consuming love I have for them.
Before I can even draw breath, they descend.
Tally moves first. He steps into my space, his hands coming up to frame my jaw with a desperate hunger. His beautiful amber eyes weaken my knees before his lips even touch mine.
Pulling my body flush against his, he wrecks my mouth. The kiss is deep, bruising, and fiercely possessive—a promise that he will tear the world apart to come back to me. I whimper into his throat, my fingers clinging to his neck, completely intoxicated by the connection between us.
When he pulls back, his breathing ragged, his thumb brushes over my lower lip, sealing the heat of him into my skin.
“You’re my everything, Princess,” he growls, his forehead resting against mine. “We’re going to get through all this, and make a life together. Be together, forever.”
Then London slides in, taking my waist and spinning me into his arms before I can even catch my breath.
His touch is pure and fizzing. He cups the back of my head, tilting my face up, then brings his lips to mine, gently, softly.
“My rode,” he whispers against my damp lips, a breathtaking smile breaking through his serious expression.
“A rode is a special rope for the anchor. You keep us all tethered, anchored. You keep the madness away and the belly-worms at bay, Kitten.”
I sag against him, my lips tingling and swollen from the twin onslaught of my men.
Basil lets out a loud, aggressive throat-clear, completely breaking the spell. “Are you guys done dry-humping? Because we’re on a clock here.”
Right, focus, Aurora.
Giving myself a mental shake, I look between London and Tally. “Change back into your beasts for a moment so we can test if the spell is fully working.”
With another synchronized movement, Tally and London shift. I beckon Basil over. “Come take a sniff.”
He grumbles but does what I ask. “Yeah, no wet dog smell—or goat breath at all.” A smile breaks through his usually sullen features and he gives me a high-five. “Knew you could do it.”
I try to give the boy a hug and he pushes me away, pulling on his goggles again like a shield.
OK, I need to reel myself back in fully. I’ve worked out this spell, so maybe there is more in my witch-tank than I thought? Is there anything that could help us pinpoint where Sky is?
Sky.
I close my eyes, forcing my breathing to slow, desperately trying to stretch my newly awakened awareness towards the Manor house. I reach deep into my heart, searching for any trace of my sweet friend.
Nothing.
I guess that was too much to ask.
Giving myself a shake, I realize London and Tally don’t know my other news. I turn to them as they once again morph into human form. “I felt Francois, and he’s getting closer every second.”
“Shane!” London cheers. “I should have known that shivery snake wouldn’t be down for long.”
Even Tally grins. “Good, we need him. We don’t have long.” He points at Basil’s paper map. “London and I are going to this section of the woods, that’s where the ATVs came from. We’ll see how much of the forest we can scope out before this fucking ‘hunt’ starts.”
“Wait,” Basil pushes his goggles back on his forehead. “What about the cameras? You said they have a live feed. Goat-breath can’t exactly pass as regular wildlife.”
“Well, that’s not very nice, Fuckwad. Fauns are creatures too, you know.” London crosses his arms.
Shit. Hadn't thought of that. “He’s right, London. They won’t be able to smell you, but you’re pretty noticeable.”
Basil prods London on his hairy chest. “Yeah, this isn’t a fucking fairytale land.
But like, aren’t you good at climbing and all that shit?
Why don’t you move through the tree tops?
” He gives a smirk, knowing he’s clever.
“And you can take out any cameras you find from above. They’ll all be focused on the ground. ”
Tally stares at the boy, respect in his eyes. “Genius. That’s the plan. Can you drive to the main road, Basil? Find somewhere inconspicuous to park and monitor traffic?”
“Yeah, course.”
“Good, then we’ll go now.”
London places a kiss on my cheek. “Stay safe, Kitten.”
Tally just looks at me, his eyes saying everything.
A moment later they disappear into the undergrowth. I watch them for a beat then square my shoulders. They are going to be alright. “Come on,” I say to Basil. “We need to move.”
Barely able to see over the steering wheel, my young companion guides the heavy LandRover a quarter-mile down a farm track, tucking it behind a crumbling brick barn.
It’s the perfect vantage point—hidden, but with a clear line of sight of the private road leading straight to Ménage Manor’s imposing main gate.
We’ve only been parked a couple of minutes when a vintage Rolls-Royce purrs down the highway. It slows down at the gate, and after a brief conversation with the security posted there, cruises through.
“Twats,” Basil whispers.
Only five minutes later, another engine echoes from the south. A Bentley.
Suddenly, my chest tugs.
Francois.
As the vehicle slows to approach the security gates, the rear tinted window rolls down. A thick cloud of expensive cigar smoke drifts into the damp air, as a face looks out.
Clean-shaven, shiny black hair, and a sneer on his face.
Francois de Vaux, looking like he’s never stepped foot in a puddle, let alone crawled through mud, blood and battles with the rest of us.
He turns his head and stares directly up to where Basil and I are hidden.
Then the car glides smoothly past the gatehouse, disappearing into the walled-off grounds.
Fuck. Francois is going in as one of them.
That’s so fucking risky.
And might just give us a fighting chance.