“It’s me,” he said. “Trace.” The voice sounded like Trace.

  “I’m here, too, Benie.”

  “Ian?” Confused and confounded, Benie studied the man. He had Trace’s coarse black hair, straight nose, and bow lips, but he was tall like Ian, with Ian’s blue eyes and narrow face. “Trace?” He wore a bomber jacket and a pair of black jeans. Classic Trace. But he had on a T-shirt with the slogan, “Talk Nerdy to Me,” definitely one of Ian’s.

  “Yes,” the man said, and she heard both their voices in unison.

  That did it—she’d finally lost her marbles. She hadn’t reconnected, merely allowed the fever to take her to a very strange—and, she decided as she looked at the handsome man before her, the best of both her lovers—wonderful place.

  She was dying. Why shouldn’t she embrace these last moments? “Take off your clothes. Come lay by me. I want to feel your skin against mine.”

  “Benie, listen, we need to know where you’re located in the house. You need to concentrate.”

  This was her fantasy, and the hunka-hunka combo-man was trying to ruin it. She ran her fingers over her breasts and licked her lips. “I need you to shut the fuck up and take off your clothes.”

  “Go to the window. Tell us what you see.”

  The vision’s hands trembled. “You need to focus.”

  She reached out, her fingers touching the solid form, cold and hard, not like their warm flesh. Was this a trick? Her father’s idea of a cruel joke? “No,” she said. “You’re not real.”

  The creature wended his fingers into her hair and yanked her head back to look at him. “Stop. You have to pay attention.”

  The small stab of pain when it pulled her hair helped her mind to clear some.

  “Benie.” It was Ian’s voice now. He sounded gravelly, raw.

  Benie stared at the thing that was both Ian and Trace, taking in its dark, twisted beauty. She reached out again. Instead of a cold, sold mass, the thing had become warm and permeable. Her hands sank beneath its skin, or rather it began to sink into her. The mark on her lower back flared to life, and she felt a throbbing sensation on her left shoulder, and then on the right, as it completely absorbed into her body. Their psychic touch abated some of the madness.

  Ready or not, darling. We’re here, and we’re coming to get you.

  Benie lay back onto the bed rolled onto her side. He father stood just inside the bedroom door staring at her.

  “Son of a bitch!” Benie yanked the sheet up her body.

  “I’ve never seen anything like what you just did. And trust me, that’s saying a lot.” He waved his hand. “You really are a magnificent creature.”

  “I hate you.” She moved off the bed, still holding the sheet to her body.

  “You have become Triune, not just a symbol, but real strength and potency. You are undeniably the Queen of Caledon. I’m sorry, daughter, but I can’t allow you to live now. Not even your child is worth the danger to my throne.”

  Benie smiled, calm and unafraid. “You should have killed me when you had the chance.”

  Garrick shrugged. He pulled out a small pad and pushed a button. The wrist and ankle cuffs yanked together magnetically, pulling Benie to the floor like a calf, roped and tied. “I don’t think the chance has passed. Do you?”

  “No,” Benie shrieked, as she struggled helplessly against the magnetic shackles. A crashing boom of thunder shook the room, dashing the smile from Garrick’s face.

  Benie heard semi-automatic gunfire, along with two more explosions. She struggled to pull the cuffs apart. They wouldn’t budge. “They’re coming,” Benie yelled. “They’re coming, and they will fucking end you, old man!”

  Garrick roared, his shadow-self leeching lightning quick across the floor. Before Benie could react, Garrick shoved a dagger into her chest.

  “No!” Benie stared at the blade protruding from her own body with disbelief as a sharp, agonizing pain took her to the floor.

  Garrick drew the dagger from her chest. Blood spilled easily from the wound onto the white marble floor. “Your turn, daughter,” he taunted. “End me.”

  Screams and shouts out in the hallway spilled into the room. The door exploded inward and two giant werewolves standing upright entered—one with a sword, the other with a gun. They aimed everything at Garrick.

  Every slice and shot hit nothing but air.

  Benie forced herself to ignore the battle. A war, much greater, waged inside her body as she fought to live. She felt the full weight of the triangular mark on her back flaring with life, filling her with the will to overcome and triumph.

  A werewolf skidded past her as Garrick batted him down. The sword clanked onto tile. Blood soaked his fur. Trace. Benie had to keep it together. Somehow, the wound in her chest was healing, but it needed her full concentration. She couldn’t let her father know she was surviving his mortal wound, not if she wanted any chance at all at taking him by surprise.

  The black holes in her skin, the ones that came with the fever, flitted in and out of reality. She embraced their emptiness and felt her body give way to something else. Something less solid. Her wrist and ankle cuffs slipped through her skin as her limbs turned to mist.

  She hesitated, surprised when the cuffs clinked against the stone tiles. Ian, in wereform, got in a strike on Garrick, before he shadowed once again.

  Benie willed her form to float, to move as fluid along the floor and to the wall.

  “You can’t kill what you can’t catch,” Garrick said, taking solid form again as Benie’s mates regrouped and began to circle him. “I’ll live and you’ll die.”

  “The hell you say.” Benie reached out with a speed she’d never achieved before, punching through his back. Instinctually, she wrapped her ghostly fingers around his hammering heart.

  Garrick jerked. “No,” he whispered. “This isn’t possible.”

  Benie grasped his heart, still beating within his chest, and squeezed.

  Mouth open, gaping, unable to breathe, Garrick dropped to his knees. Benie kept her hold, tight and certain. Myron Gray walked in as Ian and Trace resumed their human guises, and watched Benie take her justice.

  “You should have the honor, Uncle,” she said. Benie leaned to Garrick’s ear. “The gray man will have his vengeance.”

  “He killed your mother and father. He had your adopted parents murdered as well.” Gray’s eyes softened with sadness and a long overdue grief. “His life is yours to take.”

  Benie thought about everything she’d been through, and not just the past four months. The man responsible was in her grasp. Her own father. His blood ran through her veins. But he wasn’t someone who could be redeemed. He was a cancer, and cancers needed to be aggressively removed. She clenched his heart tight in her fist until her fingers burst through the wall of muscle protecting the valves. One beat, then no more.

  Benie ripped her hand from his chest, blood splattering across the floor as she shook her fingers.

  The fighting out in the hallway stopped. The sudden silence unnerved her.

  Destan ran in the room holding a sword wet with scarlet blood high in his hand. He looked disheveled, but exhilarated. “That Benie juice rocks!” He looked at his father, Ian, Trace, Benie, and a very dead Garrick, and said, “All clear. Caledon is taken.”

  Benie narrowed her gaze at the dragon shifter. “Benie juice?”

  “Uhm,” he said, backing from the room. “I’m going to go check on the bros. Let them know all is well on the home front.”

  Ian and Trace crossed the floor, enfolding Benie in their arms. For the first time in days, she felt warm and safe. Myron Gray stepped toward them. Benie caught his lost expression. She disengaged from her mates and went to her uncle. She wrapped her arms around his small shoulders, surprised when the man’s body began to shake. He was crying. She’d ended his mission. She’d killed Garrick and avenged their family. And she realized, in that moment, that Gray had embraced his hatred of Garrick for so long, he’d completely blocked out sorrow.

  His breathing grew softer, shallower. She felt his hand at the small of her back. “This was your mother’s room,” was all he said. He gave her a quick squeeze before disengaging. He turned on his heel and walked straight out the door.

  Benie blinked back the tears. Fuck. She’d been a goddamn water fountain since the beginning of her pregnancy, and it didn’t seem as if taking out Garrick had cured her leaky eyes.

  Her chest wound was nothing more than a pink mark now. Trace and Ian, once again surrounded her, holding her, keeping all the bad stuff out. Later, she would deal with the world, but right now, she needed her men.

  Too soon, Uncle Myron came back, followed by the triplets Eustan, Destan, and Max. Ty Wasape and Shade, along with dozens of more people she’d never seen traipsed in after. All dropped to their knees, prostrating themselves before her.

  “Stop that,” she said, feeling uncomfortable and certainly unworthy. The conga line of subjects came to a screeching halt.

  Gray approached her with the identical triplets. “Your mother would be proud.”

  “Thank you, Uncle.” She kissed his cheek. She looked down at Garrick’s dead body, feeling nauseous. “I need to get out of here. I’m trying real hard not to ralph, but it’s getting tougher.”

  Destan stepped back. “She’s already puked on me once. Someone else’s turn.”

  She knew it was the pregnancy that was making her feel ill, not the dead man. Benie had killed many, many bad others in the past. No regret. And staring at Garrick, she didn’t have any regret now.

  Eustan said, “We’ll take care of the clean-up, cousin. You go get some air.”

  “Cousin?” Benie looked at Gray for an explanation.

  He scrunched his brows. “Oh, yes. Didn’t I mention I had some sons?”

  “No. No, you did not.”

  “That’s right.” Gray smiled. It made his face look a little off balance. “I didn’t, did I?”

  Destan crossed his arms and thrummed his fingers across his elbows in quiet contemplation. “Damn, we sure blew this place to shit. It’s going to take a while to get it in living shape for you all. I’d say we can have it ready in four weeks?” He looked to his brothers.

  Max nodded, but held up two fingers. Eustan said, “Three.”

  Destan shook his head. “Okay, three.”

  “We have to live here?” Trace whispered in her ear.

  “Can you build me a laboratory?” Ian asked with barely contained excitement.

  “Only if you tell me about the Benie juice,” she said.

  “What?” Ian shrugged, innocently holding his palms out.

  “Uh huh,” Benie said. She had no plans in letting it go, but for now, she linked her arms in theirs. The contact with her men satisfied the Truine. “Let’s get the hell out of here. I could use a hot shower and about a week of sleep.”

  Trace stopped mid-step. “The babies?”

  The new power within Benie flared. For once she was completely in charge and in tune with her body. She could feel them both, little hearts beating fast and healthy. “They’re fine. Perfect even.” She grinned at her lovers. “Just like their fathers.”

  Epilogue

  One year later…

  Being queen had its perks, but Benie had never imagined all the paperwork involved. She had a stack in front of her that she was told couldn’t wait until morning. They had to be signed and faxed tonight, and Eustan, who’d volunteered to be her go-to guy, was waiting for her to finish.

  Apparently, the Caledonian Empire incorporated several large businesses including computer software and pork bellies. Luckily, Trace had a great head for numbers and legalese. Without him, Benie would have been lost ninety-nine percent of the time.

  Ian no longer treated Benie like a lab rat, constantly exploring what made her tick. Nevertheless, when he’d asked her for a few stem cells for a new project to help someone she’d become very close to over the year, Benie agreed. Her cousin Max hadn’t stopped talking since Ian had grown him a new tongue.

  Uncle Myron had moved back to Caledon now that his exile had been lifted, and he no longer needed to hide. The remaining wardens swore fealty to Benie and became part of Gray’s rebels, his shadow warriors. Her uncle convinced her to pardon Keane Silvertail, but only after Trace had agreed it was the right thing to do, and he put the man in charge of training new recruits.

  Strangely enough, now that the war was over, her uncle looked like a slightly older version of the triplets—dark hair, blue eyes, rather handsome actually. She’d assumed the triplets looks were from their dragon shifter mother, but apparently not so. It seemed Gray had the ability to not only blend in with shadow, but to alter his features. It was how he’d managed to stay hidden from Garrick for so long.

  Eustan, at her behest, found and purchased some property in the Mark Twain forest region, and once Benie figured out how to move Caledon, she shifted it there permanently. The underground tunnels of the kingdom were really vast. Benie couldn’t believe just how far they reached. It was an entire city beneath the earth housing thousands of her people. She’d finally convinced them to stop bowing every time she was amongst them.

  She dotted her i’s and crossed her t’s on the last document and pushed the intercom button on her desk. “Finished.”

  Eustan walked into her office and quickly grabbed the stack of paperwork. “Finally.”

  “Are you really bitching at me?”

  He rolled his eyes. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.” He smiled.

  “Go on, get out of here.” This was Benie’s life now. She’d gone from monster slayer to paper shuffler all in the span of fifteen months.

  Tired, she stretched her limbs to restore the blood flow. She couldn’t wait to go to bed. Quickly and quietly, she walked down the hallway to her bedroom. She managed to open the door without even a squeak.

  A heavy blissful sigh escaped her lips as she took in the beautiful sight of little Marta Elise, a little under four months old now, sprawled across Trace’s chest in their king-sized bed. Both Trace and Marta were asleep. She was such a pretty baby. Benie had chosen her name using her biological mother’s name along with her adoptive mother. Ian and Trace had been great about it. The tiny princess was perfect, and Benie couldn’t have been happier.

  On the other side, Ian cradled Leopold Ray in his arms. Her son had been born two months after his sister. He’d been a little early, but Benie had never felt more grateful to be done with pregnancy. His birth had been difficult, but man, was he worth it. He’d been named Leopold for Ian Leopold Arent, and Ray, for Trace Ray Calder. Even if only one of them was the father, the three of them had agreed it didn’t matter. They would raise the children equally.

  They weren’t a traditional family by any sense of the word, but they were family.

  Ian looked up at Benie, smiling. “He’s been a very good baby today.”

  Benie walked to Ian’s side of the bed. “We did good, huh?”

  “Definitely.”

  Leaning over, Benie kissed Ian’s forehead and picked up her son. “Leo, my sunshine, my boy,” she sang softly to the infant. Ian’s hand slipped between her thighs, making her lower bits grow warm and tight.

  She chuckled. “You trying to make me drop the baby?”

  “My parents dropped me. Didn’t hurt me one bit.”

  Benie smacked his shoulder. “Who says?” Gently, she settled Leo into his crib.

  “Come on.” Benie took Ian’s hand. He followed without question. She walked to the other side of the bed and softly kissed Trace and Marta on the foreheads, and then led Ian toward the master bathroom.

  He pinched her ass on the way in. “Feeling frisky tonight?”

  “Oh, I just thought it’d be nice to have you loofah my back.”

  “Is that the euphemism we’re using these days?”

  Benie turned in his arms and whacked him on the shoulder. “You gonna talk or are you going to kiss me?”

  “Kiss you, definitely.”

  “Still talking.”

  “Nag.”

  “Geek.”

  Trace’s voice entered their minds. Can you guys keep it down? You’re going to wake up the kids.

  Ian raised a brow and gave Benie a crooked smile. She grinned back. You can always join us.

  He didn’t bother to answer. A few seconds later, the bathroom door opened. Trace pursed his lips. “I think I might need help with the loofah as well.”

  * * * *

  Myron Gray sat in his office scrolling through a backlog of email. Since Garrick’s death, he’d finally felt able to breathe. He’d visited his parents in Canada, and the four of them had finally mourned Marta’s death. Benie would have made Marta so proud. She was a fine woman, a good leader, even if she could be a little head strong at times.

  An alert popped up on his computer monitor. He sat forward, the headline grabbing his attention. “Three dead at Osage Reservation in Oklahoma.”

  He picked up his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and hit the call button.

  The call was answered on the first ring. “Gray,” Ty Wasape said on the other end.

  Gray looked at the pictures attached to the email. All three men had been gutted and their throats slit. All three were bear shifters like Ty. All members of his tribe. “I’m sending you a file. You are going to have to make a trip home.”

  He hung up, grimacing as he read through the entire report. Garrick’s reign of terror had ended, but there always seemed to be some new maniac to deal with.

  His son Max knocked at his office door. “You coming down for supper?”

  Gray smiled at hearing his youngest son’s voice again. “I’ll be right there.” He clicked to forward the email to Wasape, shut down his computer for the night, and eagerly joined his family for a meal.

  The End

  The Bear Witch Project, Midnight Shifters Book 2

  Chapter 1

  Solange “Sol” Tremaine could feel the jackpot getting close as she fed the machine two quarters from her winnings back into its hungry maw and pulled the handle again. She held her breath, seven…seven…bar. The air puffed from her mouth in defeat. Determined, she put in two more coins. She widened her eyes as she squirmed and fidgeted, fingers crossed. Bar…bar…bar!

 

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