Tarnished Prophecy: Shifter Paranormal Romance (Soul Dance Book 3) by Ann Gimpel

Author:Ann Gimpel [Gimpel, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ann Gimpel Books, LLC
Published: 2017-06-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Jamal didn’t want to erase Ilona’s wildflower scent from his blankets, but he couldn’t very well cart them to Michael’s wagon, either. The Rom’s magic—and his nose—were sharp. He inhaled a few more times before putting his clothing to rights and getting to his feet. Once there, he summoned power, instructed the blankets to release the molecules trapped in their weave, and tossed both over a shoulder.

His body hummed with the aftermath of their lovemaking. He felt alive in a way he never had before. Within him, the wolf was joyful too. He felt its approval and its relief he’d finally moved beyond his past.

He thought about the weak place in the barrier as he stepped through it. He’d discovered the fault quite by accident as he hunted for a place to bring Ilona. Why was it here? Was it a way to save a bit of magic as he’d originally suspected, or did it serve some darker, more nefarious purpose?

He wondered which of the first shifters had constructed the barrier, or if they’d tag-teamed it. Surely, there’d be a way to find out without putting anyone in an uncomfortable position. Or clueing Anubis that he wasn’t a willing participant in the intentional and focused harm the first wolf shifter had laid out earlier that evening.

Jamal had seen some of his kin exchanging looks. Particularly the women. But everyone hid their reactions from their first. It was how they’d been trained. He started a mental list of the wolves he knew beyond any doubt were fully behind Anubis and his stated goals.

Wolves were superior. They should be at the head of any decisions regarding all shifters. If any disagreed, they should be banished—or destroyed. Anubis hadn’t actually spelled that last out, but he didn’t have to. His meaning had been clear enough.

Jamal winced. He’d been raised on tales of the first wolf shifter, had deified Anubis as a young man. To have the reality fall so far from his ideal was harsh, but he was grateful the first had been so vocal. Easier to fight what you knew than something you had to guess at.

He slipped beneath Michael’s wagon to where he planned to lay out the blankets, but before he had a chance to spread them on the ground, the wagon’s door opened, and Michael let himself outside. Without saying a word, he gestured for Jamal to follow him. After tucking the folded woolen coverlets next to the wagon, Jamal crossed to Stewart’s wagon and followed Michael inside.

Stewart sat cross-legged in a corner, wrapped in the folds of his kilt. For once his red hair hung loose, rather than snugged into braids. He nodded and the door, encouraged by a jot of magic, swung shut silently on well-greased hinges. The air thickened with the scent of Rom magic as Stewart—or perhaps Michael—spelled the small enclosure.

Michael dropped into a crouch across from Stewart and patted the floor next to him. Jamal knelt too, waiting. They’d tell him what they wanted soon enough.

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