Forever (The Dragon Wars) Read online

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  Forever

  Copyright © 2013 by Rebecca Royce

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-467-6

  Cover art by Fantasia Frog Designs

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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  www.decadentpublishing.com

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  Also by Rebecca Royce

  Another Chance

  Initiation

  Driven

  Bar Mate

  Out of Place Mate

  Mate by the Music

  Unwanted Mate

  Behind the Scenes

  Believe in Me

  Embraced

  Eye Contact

  Rebirth

  Subversive

  Return to the Sea

  I’ll be Mated by Christmas

  One Night With a Wolf

  Paging Dr. Wolf

  Forever

  The Dragon Wars

  By

  Rebecca Royce

  ~DEDICATION~

  To Sara Brookes, for all that she does

  Chapter One

  The porch swing across the street creaked obnoxiously as someone swung back and forth too fast for its old hinges. The noise finally got to be too annoying for even Devin to sleep through. He opened his eyes. When he’d passed out on his father’s porch—whether it was from the alcohol, the painkillers, or the pain itself, he wasn’t sure—it had still been nighttime. Now the midday sun plagued his eyes.

  He sat up and rubbed his head. This was the seventh day in a row he’d slept most of the day away. If he couldn’t get it together, he might as well have died in that Dragon prison. So many had put themselves at risk to save him, but the way his life had spun out of control didn’t warrant the rescue. They should have left him in that prison to rot.

  Devin shook his head to clear some of the fogginess. The action didn’t achieve the desired result, but only added to the dull ache in the center of his forehead. Finally, he gave up trying to make the pain stop. It would probably go away on its own if he just ignored it. If it didn’t, well then, tonight he would have to dope himself up again.

  In the meantime, he had to figure out who was abusing that swing across the street. The damn thing needed to be fixed or thrown out. He might be burdened with posttraumatic health issues, but his hearing still worked fine. Perhaps his fellow Werewolf across the street had gone deaf. Even the Dragons wouldn’t be able to tolerate that squeak.

  He snorted at his thought as he stood up. Gods, he might as well be ancient. When had forty become so damn old? Staring through the screen of his porch, he found the culprit on the squeaking swing. It was one of his neighbors’ daughters. He had no idea which one. They had a huge family of only daughters. Devin thought he remembered there being seven of them, but there could have been eight. He’d been gone for fifteen years, so for all he knew there were fourteen of them now. Hopefully they’d continued to have just girls. Females weren’t forced to go to the front lines.

  Devin pushed open his front door, not caring one hoot what he looked like. His mother had told him if he didn’t start shaving soon he was going to frighten little children when he walked down the street. She had never seen the crisscrossed scars lining both sides of his cheeks. His beard seemed preferable to that. Also, his leg, which he practically had to drag behind him when he walked, frightened the children enough.

  It took him twice as long as it should have to make it the short distance across the street to his neighbor’s house. What was their last name? For a second he couldn’t remember, but it finally came to him. Knox. He’d known them his whole life—well, the portion of it that he had lived before the war. Now he didn’t know anyone who wasn’t in a military unit.

  “Excuse me,” he called out, surprised by the gruffness of his own voice. The last bout of Dragon smoke that had been sprayed at him right before the Wolves had burst through the door to save what was left of his unit might have caused permanent damage to his vocal chords. Oh well. He wouldn’t be singing in a band any time soon. “Ms. Knox, do you think I could speak to you about your swing?”

  A blond head popped up, and she climbed down off the squeaking monstrosity. She’d been lying on it, and it still had made that much noise?

  “Sure.” She had a sunshiny voice to match her bright hair. “You can talk to me about it.”

  The door to the porch swung open. It also squeaked and he winced. Did everything these Wolves owned make a racket? His thoughts died as she came down the steps. The Female approaching him stood nearly five foot ten inches tall. She had long legs shown off beautifully in shorts that barely covered her curvaceous thighs and a tight, toned stomach not covered at all by her white half shirt.

  Her blond hair fell to her shoulders, drawing attention to the fact that the white half-a-T-shirt also happened to be a V-neck. The Knox daughter, whichever one she happened to be, had cleavage to spare. Her arms were shapely and toned. But all of this beauty didn’t come close to her extraordinary face.

  High cheekbones framed pixie-like eyes. He was sure people who were jealous of her would call them blue, but they were really violet, a color now imprinted onto his soul. Her lips were full and red. She smiled so brightly he could see almost every straight white tooth in her mouth.

  Whichever Knox woman she was, she had just done him a huge favor. The sight of her near perfection, the most stunning example of womanhood he had ever seen, had just made his cock jump to life. That hadn’t come close to happening to in just over five years.

  It was such a startling sensation, even as wonderful as it felt, that for a second he was struck dumb.

  Devin sniffed the air to take in her scent. Aromas didn’t come to him naturally anymore. He had to work at achieving their knowledge. But this time he didn’t mind having taken the time. She smelled like woman, Wolf, and cherries—a heady combination to say the least.

  “I’m Lena Knox.” She pointed at his house. “You live
there.”

  Lena didn’t phrase her statement as a question, and he suspected that had been purposeful. She was a Werewolf. She would have been able to scent him in his parents’ house from all the way across the street.

  Lena. He searched his memory. No, he hadn’t known Lena. He’d known some of the girls but she hadn’t been one of them. Probably too young to remember him….

  “I know you speak because you said you wanted to talk about the swing.” She smiled again.

  He had to say something. “I’m Devin Owen. I guess I do live across the street.”

  For ten years he’d lived wherever the war sent him, and then for five years he’d lived in a Dragon prison. Now? Yes, he supposed he lived in his parent’s house. As pathetic as that was at forty years old.

  “You guess? Are you not sure where you live?” Her tone was teasing. He tried to remember how he was supposed to act when someone did that.

  “Um.” He scratched his head. “No, I’m sure I live there.”

  Her face fell. “Are you okay?”

  “What? Oh, yes, I’m fine.” He took a step back from her. Between the beard, the leg, and his general lack of social skills, she must be wondering if he was deranged. “Sorry to bother you. It’s just that your swing…it squeaks.” He took another step back. This had been a bad idea. Why had he come over here? Two more steps away. “So does your door.”

  “Yes, everything squeaks, and I have no idea what to do about it.” She turned her head slightly to give the house a forlorn look. “Did it wake you? I know you were sleeping over there on your porch.”

  She did? How did she know? Oh, right. Her senses still worked, unlike his own. Two more steps away. Damn, if he wasn’t running away from a woman who was too young to have to have known him before he’d gone away to war.

  “Sorry to bother you,” he called over his shoulder as he rushed as fast as his leg would let him back into his parents’ house.

  Getting inside, he closed the door behind him. He. Had. Just. Run. From. A. Female. They should have just left him in prison to rot.

  ***

  Lena sighed as she walked quietly back into the house. The squeaking swing had worked. It had annoyed him to death, as it should have, since it made her crazy. She couldn’t believe ten minutes had gone by before he’d woken up. Another minute and she would have stopped before it frayed her nerves.

  Her mate. Devin Owen. She’d managed to get his attention, which was the only reason she’d squeaked the swing for so long and worn the stupid outfit. He’d taken one look at her and run away. She pushed out the old battered kitchen chair and sat down. It wobbled. Nearly everything in the house was almost broken. Her father was too sick to mend anything and the money was all gone.

  But she’d been so relieved her mate had come home. Even if he had no idea they were, in fact, mated. At seven years old she had known he was hers. He had, unfortunately, not known the same about her. Of course, she’d been seven and it might have been a little sick if he had known.

  But now he was home, which was unbelievably wonderful. She’d worried he was dead for five years when the report had come in that his unit had gone missing. So many units disappeared, and only a few were ever heard from again. She had prayed and prayed to the gods that sustained them to bring him home. Her prayers had been answered. He seemed battered and confused, but home.

  Whatever had happened, she could help him. She knew she could. As his mate, it was her duty and pleasure. They could start out by going for a run together. She would let him get used to her scent in her Wolf form. It would make him less nervous…

  How had he not known immediately she belonged to him now that she wasn’t a child and not forbidden to notice?

  Lena tapped her fingers on the table. Embarrassment warred with determination. He was over there—right across the street—and she needed him to be over here. It wasn’t proper for her to go to his house, at least for longer than a brief visit with family present, and she doubted she could draw him back over with a squeaky swing.

  No, she was a modern Werewolf. She’d fetch him and bring him back to her house. Her parents were too unaware these days to know which end was up, but their presence would make her plan acceptable.

  Lena got up. With her back held straight she crossed the distance between their two houses. Her confidence lasted until right after she’d knocked on the door. Then she wanted to faint. Her palms got sticky, and she suddenly had to pee more than anything in the world.

  The door opened slowly. Devin peered out from the small opening. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I shouldn’t have come over. I’m not entirely in my right mind.”

  Lena sniffed the air. “You smell sane to me. There are a lot of crazies running around these days with the drug abuse going on. I don’t smell that from you.”

  She thought she heard him laugh but the sound disappeared immediately. “Not that kind of crazy. I’m…well…I’m not sure how to describe it, but it won’t happen again. I’ll leave you alone.”

  He went to shut the door, and she stuck her foot in the opening to prevent it. “No, I don’t want you to leave me alone, Devin.”

  “You don’t?” He pulled the door open wider. “Why not?”

  She could have screamed with frustration. He still couldn’t smell that she was his mate?

  “Because I need help.” That was true. She apparently needed lots and lots of assistance.

  “I’m not sure I’m fit to help you with anything. As I said, I’m not right.”

  “You’re fine.” She patted him on the arm and scooted by him to get into his house. A few minutes of this couldn’t be completely reputation killing. Besides, who was there to see it? Who would know?

  He stared at her with a blank expression. Not that she could see much of his face at all. Devin’s cheeks, chin, and part of his neck were completely covered by his brown beard. The hair on his head had grown shaggy and fell past his neck. When she’d first seen him, years earlier, he’d had close-cropped hair and he’d never gone without shaving.

  Under that beard was the most handsome sight she’d ever seen. He had a long face with a cleft in his chin that made him look authoritative. The summer that he had left for the wars, his parents had thrown four parties, one for each of their children. She had come to all of them. Her older sister, Brigit, had flirted shamelessly with Devin, but Lena hadn’t worried. She known the second she scented him that he was for her.

  His arms were exposed in the black, torn T-shirt he’d fallen asleep in the night before. She could see he was tattooed. That had happened sometime in the last fifteen years because he hadn’t had them before.

  Two of his brothers were dead—Robby and Auggie. Devin had gone missing and everyone said Dougal still fought at the front. Lena was so sick of the war. All of the men she’d ever known were gone, dead, wounded, or drugged up. There was no way she would allow her mate to fall into that category. She could already smell the painkillers in him, and they stank enough.

  She would interfere before he took it to the level of illegal drugs. One addict in the family was enough.

  “Can you fix things?”

  He stared at her like she’d spoken a different language. This might have concerned her, but every so often his eyes darted to the V in her T-shirt. She’d done the right thing showing off her cleavage. Usually, she wore much more conservative outfits, but a desperate Female had to resort to all the tricks she had up her sleeve.

  “What kinds of things?”

  “Here’s the thing.” A plan formulated in her mind. “My house is falling apart. My father has started his Departure.”

  Devin shook his head. “He’s too young.”

  “Unfortunately, no. You must still be thinking of him as he was when you last saw him.”

  “Shit, you’re right. Fifteen years have passed.” He jerked. “Sorry about the language.”

  When he wasn’t freaking himself out, Devin seemed completely adorable. She smiled. �
��I’ve heard those words before.”

  “I shouldn’t be speaking those words in front of kids.”

  Now that wasn’t acceptable. She put her hands on her hips and pushed out her breasts even further. “Do I look like a child to you?”

  “No you don’t but you were what—two? —when I left? I refuse to think of you as anything else.”

  Lena had never thought of herself as particularly sexy. In truth, she never thought about herself at all. Who had the time? At that moment she needed to be sex on a stick or she was going to lose her mate to his preconceived notions, which must be the reason he couldn’t smell she was his mate. That had to be it. He had some kind of mental block.

  She walked forward. “I was seven when you left. I went to all of the going-away parties that year. I don’t expect you to remember me. But I remember you. I’m twenty-two now. I’d prefer it if I weren’t forgettable.”

  As she spoke, she moved forward a little at a time until she stood directly in front of him. She was tall, even for a Female Werewolf, but Devin stood much, much taller. Lena had to strain her neck to look up at him. In his arms, she’d feel tiny. It would be nice, for a change.

  “Twenty-two, huh? You’re barely out of diapers.”

  She grabbed his chin and pulled his head down so she could kiss him. His beard scratched her face, and she pretended she didn’t notice. His mouth pressed surprisingly soft even as it was firm against hers. For a second, he resisted the kiss. But just for a second. Then he took over.

  Lena lost herself in the essence that was Devin Owen. He’d left a string of heartbreaks behind him when he’d left, the girls, who had been so much older than she at the time, had called him a force of nature. She could see why he warranted that description. If she didn’t take care, she’d be swept away in the torrent that was Devin. His kiss consumed her, taking over her senses. Nothing existed but Devin.