The Mating Game: Werewolves of Montana Book 8 Read online

  THE MATING GAME

  Werewolves of Montana Book 8

  Bonnie Vanak

  Contents

  Prologue

  Part 1

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Florida 2016

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Present Day Colorado

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  The 14th century, Europe

  Village of Tarsdale, home to OtherWorlders

  Prior to Xavier becoming the Crystal Wizard

  Sometimes it was hard being a teenaged Ogre, giving all your love to just one wizard.

  Ciara Tindale hovered outside her father’s blacksmith shop in her human form, or Skin, as Others called their human suits. With their green skin and bulky bodies, Ogres were considered ugly.

  Most Others, especially Lupines and Mages, had a dislike for Earthers, the race of Others like Trolls and Ogres.

  Not Xavier the wizard.

  Each day at midmorning, Xavier passed the forge on his way to his master’s workshop. She wished she had time to change her clothing. Smoke and dust darkened the air, and her simple, homespun dress was covered in soot. Her shoulders slumped as she tried to brush the dirt off her dress. She wanted to look pretty for Xavier. Perhaps she was too young at fifteen for him to pay her mind. But she loved him all the same.

  Xavier had risen in status and privilege to claim the title of wizard over the past ten years. He’d fought the tarnish of being born a poor orphan Mage in a village that cherished family. Xavier had apprenticed himself to Duncan, the most powerful Coldfire Wizard in the land. Only Aeon, the Crystal Wizard, was more powerful than Duncan, and Aeon was immortal.

  Now even the nobility bowed to Xavier.

  Ciara didn’t care if he was Mage or wizard. She thought Xavier was incredibly handsome and had a kind heart. He seldom noticed her, except when he came to the shop to have her father fashion a new blade for his master. The first time he focused his burning gaze at her, the Ogre girl, she’d become smitten.

  She peered down the dirt road, but only a few Others passed back and forth. Across the way, the door to the apothecary shop opened. Out stepped Andromeda in a white wool gown with a golden chain encircling her slim waist, her blond hair billowing in the breeze. The shifter lingered a minute, peering at a small, blue bottle clutched in her delicate, white hands.

  Ciara studied her reflection in a nearby shield her father had crafted for a warrior. Her nose was long and hooked, her eyes brown and ordinary, and her skin sallow, not delicate and pale like Andromeda’s.

  When she was in her Ogre form, she was even uglier, with purple warts on her hands and feet, two chins, and a large bottom.

  Andromeda has such a slender waist…and I do not know if I even have a waist. She plucked at the shapeless form of her dress, wishing her breasts were as large as Andromeda’s.

  For a moment, she wanted to run into the shadows and hide in shame.

  And then she straightened up and gathered her pride.

  You are lovely inside, her mother always taught her. That mattered most.

  Andromeda was the most beautiful woman in the village, and she knew it. She drew males to her like a lodestone but allowed only one man to court her—Xavier’s master, Duncan.

  It didn’t stop Andromeda from flaunting her beauty and enticing other males. Villagers said she broke male hearts as many times as Peter, the tavern keeper’s idiot son, broke dishes.

  The Lupine shifter had a pack, but Andromeda’s alpha allowed her to roam free and do as she wished, for it was whispered her influence with Xavier’s master had endowed the pack with strength and power.

  Ciara’s joy soured as she watched the shifter. Andromeda stopped outside the smithy, as if disdaining to come inside the dark, sooty interior. Her pert little nose lifted into the air.

  “Does your father have my jeweled dagger repaired yet?”

  “Why have you need of the blade? I thought your claws were sharp enough,” Ciara said sweetly.

  Andromeda frowned. “You are too bold for such an ugly little thing.”

  Then she waved a regal hand. “Tell your father to have it ready on the morrow or I shall pay only half.”

  Ciara nodded, busy searching the road for Xavier. Spotting him in the near distance, she gave a happy sigh.

  Peter came out of the tavern, carrying an empty basket on his trip to the market to buy fresh fish. Andromeda sniffed. “Simpleton. He should have been killed at birth.”

  The shifter murmured words and traced something in the air. A shiver rushed down Ciara’s spine, as her deepest senses detected the aura of magick. Suddenly Peter tripped and fell, spilling the basket. He began to cry.

  Andromeda laughed, as did the Others watching, but Ciara rushed to help Peter to his feet. She dusted off his tunic and handed him the basket, patting his shoulder.

  “Dry your tears, and when you return from the market, I shall have a sweet for you,” she told him.

  Peter stopped crying and gave his lopsided smile, continuing on his way. Deeply troubled, Ciara returned to her father’s smithy. The shifter always had a cruel streak few Others noticed, but now Andromeda used dark magick. Why couldn’t anyone else see this?

  Andromeda walked away in Xavier’s direction.

  Xavier drew closer.

  Breath held in anticipation, she watched him. Thick, dark hair curled at the edges and tumbled down to his shoulders. He was so handsome, with his chiseled cheekbones and firm jaw accented with a short beard. Much taller than the men in her village, he had a commanding presence.

  But his eyes, a gray-blue that reminded her of a stormy sky, shone with kindness, not the disdain others had shown her simply because she was a peasant Ogre.

  His doublet was red, and his hose was black, accenting his long, strong limbs. A tremor raced through her. Xavier’s peacock-blue cloak swirled about his ankles. Lined with sable, it bore the crest of his master.

  Her father cautioned against Xavier, for in the village tavern people whispered the wizard’s master had held Ogres in his cave and did “strange things to them, terrible things” and Xavier chose to ignore them.

  The wizard spied Andromeda and called out to her in that deep, smoky voice Ciara adored. “My lady Andromeda.”

  Andromeda tossed her long, golden curls and gave Xavier a wide smile. The wizard’s expression became as smitten as the many males Andromeda had ensnared with her looks.

  “Good day, Xavier,” she purred in a sultry voice. “Duncan has urgent need of this potion, if you are headed to his workshop.”

  Gaze dreamy, he nodded as she handed him the bottle, as if she’d given him rare jewels. “I should be happy to take it for you, my lady.”

  He stared after Andromeda as she walked away.

  Ciara’s heart sank. How could Xavier, the male she secretly adored, be as shallow as the Other males? Was she the only one in the entire village who knew Andromeda’s fine looks covered a dark heart?

  It would appear so.

  But she could forgive Xavier, for he was a male, and even Ciara’s own father marve
led at Andromeda’s beauty, though he was happily mated for many years and would never stray.

  It was like seeing a lovely, high-spirited horse, he’d once told Ciara’s mother. You can admire it, but you would never want to own it, for it would be too much bother. And then he’d kissed her, they laughed, and all was well again.

  With his long-legged stride, Xavier started to pass the shop. Ciara took the copper ring she’d made especially to declare her feelings for him.

  “Xavier,” she called out.

  He stopped and turned, his full mouth turning upward in a smile. How could father think this wizard was anything but kind?

  She darted into the road, ignoring the snickers of the girls gathered at the nearby village well.

  “Ciara. Good day.”

  His deep voice felt like a stroke of velvet against her ears. She shivered with pleasure and held out the copper ring. “I made this for you.”

  It was a simple piece of jewelry, but she had spent hours on the ring. In the center, she had twisted scraps of copper into the three-cornered Celtic heart.

  Xavier took the gift, his long fingers brushing against hers. A little current of power rushed between them, and the pleasant tingle shot through her body. It stirred something deep inside her. He looked startled, as if he felt it as well.

  The wizard turned it over in his palm. “Remarkable craftsmanship.”

  Pleased, she blushed. “Thank you. I fashioned it from copper for the metal’s healing properties.”

  Then his gaze hardened as he lifted his head. “What do you wish in return?”

  Ciara drew her brows together. “Nothing.”

  Then, as she realized he probably thought her daft for giving a gift without reason, she added, “I heard it was your birth date soon, and everyone should have a gift for his birth date.”

  Xavier blinked, as if surprised. He stared at the ring in his palm.

  “No one has remembered my birth date in several decades. Indeed, I often prefer to forget that date, for it was given to me on the day I was found as a babe.” He looked up, and his smile transformed his face, making him less severe. “Thank you, Ciara. Most Others I encounter want a boon of magick in exchange for their gifts. I shall cherish your ring.”

  Blushing again, she fiddled with her hands. And then her father called out her name. She sighed. “I must help Father.”

  He shook the small, glass bottle Andromeda had given him. “And I must be off to deliver this to my master. Andromeda bid me to make haste, and I do not wish to disappoint her.”

  Ciara frowned. “Be careful of that one, Xavier. She has a dark heart.”

  He shook his head. “She is too lovely for that.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You are blinded by her good looks.”

  He seemed to consider then flashed a good-natured grin. “Perhaps I am. But if her heart is not as pure, it is because none can compare to your good heart, sweet Ciara. Thank you again for your thoughtful gift.”

  Lifting her hand to his mouth, he gently kissed her knuckles. The contact made her breath catch, for it felt much more significant than a mere kiss, an invisible current sizzling between them.

  Good magick to good magick? Was this the connection her mother had told her to seek with a male before finding a mate? She had never felt it before.

  Xavier must have realized it too, for he looked momentarily flustered. He stared at her, as if truly seeing her for the first time.

  Then he shook his head, smiled again, and bade her good day.

  Ciara darted back into the forge, her heart filled with joy. He’d noticed her and cherished her gift, and he’d kissed her hand. All morning as she pumped the bellows so her father could work the iron and the metal, Ciara sang a happy tune. Perhaps when she turned sixteen next month, Xavier would court her.

  After all, a girl could dream, even an ugly Ogre girl who came from a poor family.

  Xavier whistled as he climbed the stony hillside to his master’s cave in the mountain, thinking of the village Ogre girl.

  Ciara.

  Such a thoughtful, sweet girl. Pity she was an Ogre.

  He thought most Ogres ugly, and spiteful, though Ciara was not. Nor were her parents.

  He genuinely liked Ciara and looked forward to seeing her each morning. Ciara was one of the few friends he suspected he had. And her skin when he’d kissed her hand, soft and tasting as sweet as honey. Current had flared between them, shooting straight to his manhood.

  Odd, that, for he never considered Ciara as desirable or as anything more than a friend. Having spent his childhood in an orphanage with a vicious Ogre who’d tormented him because he was a Mage, Xavier wasn’t fond of them.

  But none could compare to Andromeda’s beauty. Her looks dazzled him, and each time he saw her in his master’s cavern, Xavier made haste to perform whatever little task she required.

  A field of white daisies stretched before him. He squatted down to pick one, enjoying their beauty. The world was filled with loveliness, and after the squalid ugliness of growing up poor and powerless, a helpless victim to Others with magick, he preferred to surround himself with beauty.

  Andromeda, ah, there was a lovely prize he coveted as much as he craved power. Xavier touched the daisy, frowning.

  Ciara had cautioned him to be careful of the shifter. Certainly Andromeda had spent much time with his master as of late. Villagers said they were courting, but Xavier knew Duncan had no sexual interest in the Lupine. His master was celibate in order to hoard all his power to himself.

  Lately Xavier wondered what odd things Duncan did in private quarters, for he’d heard strange sounds in the dark night. The sounds were the reason Xavier preferred not to sleep in his master’s expansive cavern. Instead, he’d sought shelter with a friendly Mage family who gave him free room and board in exchange for tutoring their child.

  If Xavier had any doubts about Duncan and Andromeda’s relationship, they’d been banished last week when he’d accidently spied them together in the moonlight outside the cavern. Kneeling at Duncan’s feet, she pulled down his master’s hose and reached for his cock.

  “You’ve been good to me, Duncan,” she’d purred. “Let me give you something in return.”

  Andromeda put Duncan’s cock in her mouth, and Duncan pushed her away with a sound of disgust. The Coldfire Wizard was as flaccid as if ice water spilled over his privates.

  “I have no need of your charms, Lupine. Go back inside and finish that potion for me. Now!”

  I would not push her away, Xavier thought, his own manhood rousing at the thought of Andromeda’s lovely mouth encasing his shaft, her pink tongue lapping at his flesh. I would clasp her hair and bid her to gaze into my eyes as she pleasured me. And then I would pleasure her and…

  Thoughts of the little Ogre girl and the odd sounds he’d heard in the cave vanished as he daydreamed about the lovely Andromeda.

  That afternoon, her father granted permission to leave the shop. Singing, she skipped through the village street and headed to her favorite place, a grassy knoll where yellow daisies flowered. Ciara began picking the flowers. They would make a pretty circlet for her hair, and perhaps next time she saw Xavier, she would wear them and her best, blue gown, instead of one stained with soot and smoke from the smithy.

  Absorbed in her task, she did not hear the approach of another until she caught the scent. Metallic, the bite of iron and metal, the scent smelled slightly like Xavier, who held much power, but it lacked his warmth of sage, spices, and rainwater. She glanced up.

  Her blood ran cold. The daisies collected in her apron spilled to the ground.

  A tall man—his long, lean face shining with malevolence—stood near her. He had a crescent-shaped scar on his chin. Shimmering, blue robes covered in glittering, white crystals draped his body. White-blond hair hung in a straight line past his shoulders.

  Duncan, the Coldfire Wizard. He smiled, and the smile made her very afraid, for it was filled with menace. “I smell an Ogre gi
rl,” he said. “Perhaps not as young as I had hoped, but you will suffice for my little experiment.”

  And then before she could shriek or turn to run, he waved a hand, and grayness pushed at her the edges of her vision. The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness was the wizard’s pale, cold eyes, filled with dark joy.

  Ciara awoke in a cage made of iron. Smells assaulted her nostrils—feces, urine, and the sour stench of terror, along with the metallic smell of pure power. She rubbed her eyes and looked around.

  She was in a crystal cave, and the air around her sang of energy and darkness. Brilliant crystals—blue, purple, red, and green—lined the cave. They glowed like the candles her mother lit at night.

  Other iron cages were lined against the wall. Horror filled Ciara as she saw Ogres she thought had left the village to find work elsewhere—the kind farmer who always gave her apples in the autumn; the chemist who gave her tincture for the monthly pains in her belly; and Simon, a strong Ogre who’d once worked for her father.

  All of them were in their true forms, their green skin marked with wounds. Ciara noticed with horror that Simon’s right arm ended in a stump below the elbow. All of the Ogres showed signs of terrible torment. The farmer was missing one eye, and the chemist had many wounds on his body.

  “Why am I here?” she asked Simon. “What does Duncan want from me?”

  The Ogre’s pain-glazed gaze met hers. “He plans to use that on you. The wizard is torturing us to see how much pain our kind can tolerate in Skin until we transform to our true bodies and how much our magick will protect us until we die.” Simon pointed to a small table lined with sharp knives and hooks.

  Terror iced her veins. She raced to the cage’s door and rattled the bars. “Help me, please,” she screamed.

  “’Tis no use,” Simon said dully. “The only one in the room next to the cave is Xavier, and he never responds. He cares not for our sufferings.”

  Xavier would save her. She screamed louder and louder.

  And then, blessed Danu, the door on the far wall of the cavern opened, and Xavier rushed inside. His gaze widened in horror as he stared at the cages lining the walls, at the Ogres sitting there, groaning.