Blood of the Maple

Parker’s brows rose. This wasn’t what he’d expected Noah to say. “At first I thought that reparation would be monetary or perhaps a favor owed.”

Not uncommon payment in the supernatural community, but Parker had been after something far more precious than gold.

“Imagine my surprise when I was informed the price of forgiveness would be a public apology.” Noah was growling at the end. Some in the audience laughed, but most backed up a step. Parker noted that all those who laughed appeared to be pack.

What is he up to?

“Everyone knows I don’t apologize. Ever. I haven’t since I became my father’s beta, and I certainly haven’t since I became alpha.” He bowed his head and stared at his hands for a moment before looking back over the partygoers. “But today I offer one to Amara Schwedler-Hollis, mate of Parker Hollis, wrongfully accused of causing the deaths of two people and hunted by my pack for crimes she didn’t commit. I would defend our actions, except they were made in the heat of the moment and without proper knowledge of who the true culprit was. The fact that we thought we were protecting our mates, our cubs and our town should have no bearing on this. That, I have discovered, is no excuse for what we tried to do. The death toll, had we succeeded, would have been three innocent lives and the knowledge we would never again be allowed to roam freely within our beloved forest.

“For that reason—because the life we tried to take was an innocent one and because we were wrong—I offer this apology to Amara in all sincerity and with the full backing of my pack.”

And one by one, the pack walked onstage and stood behind their alpha, offering their silent support and their own unique form of apology.

Amara joined the wolves on the stage, her green gown floating around her legs, her brilliant curls pinned neatly to the top of her head. Parker had every intention of taking each and every pin out and watching those curls tumble about her head before he stripped that floaty gown from her body and tasted every inch of her skin.

He might even wait until they got home. This was an awfully big house. Dragos wouldn’t mind him borrowing a bit of it.

Amara stopped in front of Noah and bowed. “I accept the apology of the alpha and his pack. I also accept that you thought you were defending your people and your town.” She winked at Noah and grinned broadly. “I can understand the need to defend. Consider this over and done and your safe passage through the forest renewed with the blessing of Oak, Ash and Birch.”

The three ruling dryads bowed regally to Noah. They’d managed to get right up to the stage in time to hear Amara’s pronouncement and confirm it.

“We need to talk to them about Iva when this is done, my sweet.”

“We do?”

“Yes.”

“Crap. More trouble?”

“Yes. One of Noah’s enforcers has been taken. It could be connected to Iva’s disappearance.”

Amara took a deep breath, but she held out her hand and forearm for the alpha to clasp.

Noah took it, his big paw swallowing her slender arm. The crowd cheered the two, including one very enthusiastic witch who’d managed to sneak her broom in and was currently doing loop-de-loops around Dragos’s chandelier.

Noah looked at his pack and nodded once. They headed for their mates or partners of the evening, leaving Noah, Parker and Amara alone on the stage. The musicians struck up a lively tune, and Amara, laughing, dragged Noah into the gyrating crowd, proving once and for all that everything was forgiven and forgotten.

“Well. Dismissed.” Parker looked up at the witch in the chandelier. “I wonder if she’d like to dance.”

“Parker? What have I told you about the crazy?”

Parker laughed. “Fine. I’ll see if I can drag my wife away from the furry set.”

Parker stepped up behind the big alpha and tapped him on the shoulder. “May I cut in?”

Noah moved back, allowing Parker to take Amara into his arms, right where she belonged. “Enjoying yourself, sweet?”

She draped her arms around his neck. “Mm-hmm.” Her head lowered until it rested on his chest, her curls tickling his nose. “But now it’s better.”

Parker breathed in her scent and damn near fell over. She smelled wet and warm, inviting him into her. “Hold still, sweet. I’m about to take you on a ride.”

He reached out with his mind and traced her nipples with imaginary fingers before she could protest.

Amara gulped. “Oh hell.” She clenched her fingers in his hair and tightened them to the point of pain. “Here?”

“Think you can be quiet?”

“Are you kidding me? Take me home, Pa-Parker. Oh Goddess. Parker.”

He’d slid one of his “hands” down to the wet cleft between her thighs. He stroked her clit, eager to see her passion, to let everyone in this room know exactly who she belonged to. “You’re going to come for me, sweet. Right here, right now.”

She growled up at him, her eyes glowing bright green. “I don’t think so.”

Parker didn’t have time to react. He found himself slung over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, his fingers dangling dangerously close to the ground. “Um. Amara?” He didn’t know whether to laugh or mist away, embarrassed beyond belief.

“Excuse me, please. I have to take my husband home.”

“Is he sick?”

Oh dear Goddess. Selena touched his hip. He wasn’t surprised when her hand was abruptly lifted.

“He’s fine, Selena. He just needs to go home now.”

“Oh.”

He could hear the laughter in the woman’s voice and knew this would take him decades to live down. However, he could forgive a lot. Amara had called him her husband for the first time. That alone warranted his cooperation. “Can I walk at least?”

Amara strode forward, carrying him out of the ballroom like some barbarian hero—or would that be heroine? “Do you promise to be a good boy until I get you naked and begging?”

He blinked. “I think I could manage it.”

The ballroom doors swung shut behind them, drowning out the whistles, laughter and clapping of the people of Maggie’s Grove.

Yup. It would take decades for their friends to forget the sight of him being carried out of the ball by his petite wife. He cupped Amara’s ass as she carried him out of the mansion, intent on having her wicked way with him. Laughter bubbled out of him when she swatted his ass with an order to “be good.”

“And what will I get if I do?” he sent her along their bond.

“I promise to be very, very good.”

Parker grinned, his fangs descending. He hoped it was going to be a long night.

“I can live with that.”

About the Author

Dana Marie Bell wrote her first short story when she was thirteen years old. She attended the High School for Creative and Performing Arts for creative writing, where freedom of expression was the order of the day. When her parents moved out of the city and placed her in a Catholic high school for her senior year, she tried desperately to get away, but the nuns held fast, and she graduated with honors despite herself. She’s now a bestselling author with Carina Press and Samhain Publishing, and has consistently earned top reviews from Romantic