“Ice cream.”
“Excellent. I’ll bring some wine.” The line goes dead.
I take a minute to bask in the silence. My bedroom is soundproof, all the bedrooms are because shifter hearing means you hear things you really don’t want to at night. Starting to change, I slowly and carefully remove my Armani suit. Since I’m occasionally an extra bitch, it’s a three-piece suit accompanied by my classic black Christian Louboutin pumps. I wave my hand over my suit to clean it and put it back in my closet. It’s so nice not needing to pay for dry cleaning.
Turning to look at myself in the mirror, I trace my eyes along my body. I’m not all that tall, at least not compared to other shifter women, hitting just under five feet four inches. I believe the term for my body is “slim-thick,” as I’ve seen the youths use on Instagram. I sound so old. I’m muscular, but not in a bodybuilder sort of way. My body still has soft curves with wide hips, a generous ass, and boobs that won’t quit—thank the gods for shifter genetics because these bitches would be saggy as all hell otherwise. The right side of my head is shaved, while the rest of my silky, pin-straight black hair falls to my waist. My eyes are emerald green, both in my human form and my dragon form. My skin is a pale porcelain color. I would joke that I look like a ghost, but that’s offensive to the ghosts.
I have tattoos covering both of my arms, my right side, between my breasts, and on my left thigh. I’m able to magic them away while I’m working, though I don’t usually need to unless I’m dealing with one of the older coven members. My right sleeve is a nature scene, starting with wolves and trees and working up into a mountain scene with dragons flying overhead. My left arm is all about space. The cosmos is painted in bold colors across my skin, and I’ve added a touch of magic to make the stars shine. The tattoo on my side is a family tree and made out of Celtic knots. The tattoo between my breasts is of the waxing, full, and waning moons. And the tattoo on my thigh is my dragon’s face. This tattoo I keep hidden all the time except when I’m alone. I don’t want anyone getting curious about it.
By both witch and shifter standards, I look pretty human. Which is the look I’ve been trying to go for to help me fly under the radar for so long. I typically keep how dominant my dragon is on lockdown and don’t let my magic show either. I don’t want to cause any unnecessary attention to drift my way.
I strip out of my thong and bra as I walk toward the en-suite bathroom. Thanks to my enhanced shifter vision and the solid glass roof, I don’t need to turn the light on, the light from the moon and stars is more than enough to see by. I start the shower and turn the temperature up all the way. I love my showers hot, melt the skin off your bones hot. Once it reaches its peak, skin melting temperature, I step under the spray and feel my body instantly relax. My dragon purrs inside me, happily soaking in the hot water. She’d lie in a nice volcanic pool all day if I let her.
I take my time scrubbing, exfoliating, shaving, moisturizing, and pampering myself. Tonight is going to be difficult, so self-care now is a must. I stand under the spray, staring off blankly with my hair piled on top of my head, letting the deep moisturizing conditioner do its work. I hardly notice the drops of water falling before my eyes.
It was raining the last time I saw my mother. I remember her being stunning, seeming to glow from the inside. My skin and hair color are an exact match to hers, though where I got my height from, I’ll never know, both of my parents were tall. My father standing at almost seven feet and my mom at almost six. My sisters were also tall amazons, reaching almost the same height as my mother.
My mother had been so fierce, a warrior goddess in the flesh. She had always been cautious with the three of us growing up. By the time we’d been born, rare queen triplets, queens had been hunted to near extinction. Despite this, I remember growing up thinking that there was nothing that could stop a queen and her mate, my parents had seemed invincible.
It was on that rainy night, four hundred years ago, that my mother took my two older sisters out with her. She promised to come back for me. And she did. But she was wounded, the screams of battle and the flash of fire swirling around the small house we shared. She told me she had placed a sleeping spell on my sisters to keep them safe. She had been planning on doing the same with me, but we were under attack and out of time. She told me to run, hide, and never let anyone know what I was. She died to get me out of Ireland that night. I haven’t looked back since.
I shake my head and turn the water off. It won’t help me to think about the past right now. I wrap my hair and body in a towel and walk back out into my room. I need to figure out how to tell Kelly and Olivia what I am, who I am. I’ve put the pack and the coven in danger. They’ll be a target if I stay. Which means I need to leave. I need to run again. Fuck. I’ll get Kelly and Olivia set up as my successors and then I’ll disappear.
What the fuck have I done?
Has it not occurred to you that we are safer and stronger with a community around us? Think for a minute! Yes, your mother put your sisters to sleep, but that was only because her own community had dwindled.
What? I don’t remember it that way. Yes, we sacrificed, but surely not that much.
Take a minute to think. My dragon sounds annoyed. What do you remember about the community around your mother?
I sit on my bed, still in my towel, and recall. My mother’s pack had been large when I was a child. I remember witches, vampires, and shifters living and fighting together.
And then? my dragon prompts, urging me to remember.
I close my eyes, trying to think back to right before I fled. I can feel the blood draining from my face as I realize what had once been a thriving community had dwindled to no more than a handful of shifters, the witches and vampires gone. But what happened? I can’t remember. It’s all blank.
She made us forget, but that isn’t the point. With a larger community, we were better able to hold the demons at bay.
If that’s right, we may have a fighting chance at taking out more demons and keeping the community safe. All shifters and witches know about demons, but I’m not entirely sure what they did about them now aside from seeking help from the Council. I had done my best to keep out of this world for so long, I’m going to need to catch up, and quickly, to ensure the safety of my community.
You are a queen, Ayla. Queens naturally attract communities. Your presence in the pack bond will help stabilize the entire community, the coven as well. This is what we were meant to do. You should also start attracting vampires.
I know that. But it’s hard to shake the centuries of running that I’ve done. The belief that I need to remain hidden.
I think Mother put a spell on us to make us forget, to make us run, my dragon suggests solemnly.
But…why?
It makes sense. Why I’m suddenly able to push this point now, why we can’t remember the community dissolving. Everything.
I drop my head into my hands, letting the towel that’s wrapped around my hair slowly slide to the floor. Have I been living a lie? I know my mother wanted me to live, but everything she’d done to my sisters and me doesn’t make sense. Why take away my memories? Why put my sisters to sleep? Why hadn’t her community been able to stay together? None of it makes sense.
I can feel Olivia tugging on the pack bond, letting me know she’s here in the packhouse. I can’t dwell on all of this now. I have so many other things to worry about that thinking about my mother’s motives needs to wait until after the Council’s visit. I groan and run my fingers through my hair. Right. Focus on the Council.