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Gwyn covered her mouth and yawned. No matter how much sleep she got, it never seemed enough. Torin also hadn't yet returned from his trip back to Tournai. After talking most of the night, she and her sister finally decided the baby had interfered with their ability. At least, that was the story she was sticking to, anyway.

She couldn’t imagine being unable to talk to her sister like they always had. The ability to share special moments, secret dreads, and their dreams was their special gift. She gnawed on her cuticles until Morgan pulled her hand away.

"That's not helping anything, so stop it." Morgan threaded her fingers through hers, moving her hand into her lap. "He will come back. I promise. He and Fáelán visited our house for the manuscript and will be here soon. Now, quit worrying." She leaned over and whispered, "It's not good for the baby."

Before she could tell her sister to shush, Fáelán and Torin walked into the room, followed by a short, very familiar female.

"Rhona!" Gwyn said with a widening smile.

Fáelán's gaze moved from Gwyn to Morgan to Rhona, then back to Gwyn. "I take it you know one another?"

Rhona gave the twins a toothy grin, the rise of her plump cheeks almost closing her eyes. "Gwyn and Morgan—you look more and more like Meagan each time I see you! How I miss your mother."

Rhona plopped down on the nearest chair, her arms resting on the padded arms. "Why, you were the sweetest lil' things. I remember one visit—you both tuggin' at your mama's legs when you were but waist high. Cute as buttons too!"

A vague memory roused as Gwyn thought back to her childhood. "I remember that day. Mom was worried about something and promised to take us to the chocolate store if we were good."

Morgan frowned. "I don't remember."

Gwyn patted her sister's thigh. "That's okay. I do. We never got our chocolate."

Rhona nodded. "Mhmm. That was a hard day for your momma. Her sister had just died, and she wanted to see if I could find out the truth." She crossed her arms over her stomach. "By the time we figured out what had happened, you two were sound asleep on my sofa."

"Can you tell us what you found out?" Morgan asked.

"I can, but you won't like it any more than your mother did. The Dark Fae's curse got her, then your lovely mother. Meagan knew it was only a matter of time—and prayed she would be strong enough to protect the two of you. We managed to trace the family members who had died at a young age—Morrigan, regrettably, ran to daughters. So very sad that."

She frowned, glancing up at the ceiling. "Let's see now, that was about..." Her gaze fell back on them. "Oh dear."

"What's wrong?" Fáelán asked.

"Their momma died ten years ago this coming Beltaine. Her sister ten years before that."

All eyes turned to them.

Gwyn reached for Morgan's hand and threaded their fingers together before pulling it onto her lap. "Now, we must ask you for help, Rhona. I beg you, please. We must stop this curse, but we don't know how. This isn't just for us anymore," she said, placing her other hand over her stomach. "But also for my daughter."

Rhona stood and walked over to stand in front of them, her palms pressing against their cheeks and her brown eyes glistening. "I will use all my powers to help. You both have an inner strength that's rare in this world. It shines around you. I believe, together, we can and will defeat him this time." She moved back to the chair beside Fáelán and sat down beside him with a loud humph.

Rafael walked into the room but stopped when everyone turned to stare. He shifted the large book he carried from one arm to the other. "What?" he growled and sat at the end of the sofa beside Morgan, the only vacant seat left in the room, and balanced the tome on his knees. "I might have a bit of news about our mysterious stone."

Morgan rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Okay, I'll bite. What stone?"

"The same stone everyone in my Wiccan group keeps finding in their research," Rhona answered, never taking her gaze from Rafael's face.

"I'd about given up hope of finding anything until I ran across one small passage about the Lia Fiál." Rafael slid his claw underneath the words as he read. "The stone can be tracked throughout biblical times, beginning with Moses when he struck a rock in the desert after the Hebrew exodus from Egypt. Moses took a chunk of the rock with him.”

His gaze momentarily dropped to the page before continuing. “The passage goes on to say that after Joshua defeated the Twelve Tribes in the Promised Land, he reminded the Hebrews to remain loyal to God and used Moses’ stone as the monument for God's house. One of Joseph's sons, Ephraim, moved his tribe to a northern isle, later known as England, and claimed rights to said stone. Another passage references the Tuatha dé Danann's oracle."

"I know what you're talking about!" Gwyn interrupted, glancing at her sister. "Remember? On our trip with Mom to Westminster Abbey, she said the stone underneath the coronation chair was fake, and the Fae had hidden the real one years before. The stone is reportedly covered with Ogham, but no one has ever deciphered its true meaning."

Morgan nodded, a smile curling one side of her mouth. "I remember that trip. We drank too much butterbeer, nonalcoholic, of course, and had stomachaches all night." She rubbed her forehead. "How many more things are going to be thrown at us?"

Rafael pulled out several papers stuffed inside the book and shuffled through them, finally finding the one he needed. "I researched Fáelán's old files and the Internet at Torin's and found this." He glanced at Fáelán. "Technology is truly amazing. We need to see about rigging up wireless capability in here for you.”

The white wolf glanced back at the papers. “Anyway, the Lia Fiál, or the Stone of Destiny, is what the Tuatha Dé took to Ireland as one of their four treasures. Legend states it has the power to proclaim the rightful king by having the candidate place his feet on the stone. It is said the Lia Fial roars with joy if the person is the true king. The legend also claims it has the power to rejuvenate the sovereign, endowing him or her with a long reign."

Morgan frowned at everyone's blank expression. "Okay, I'm confused. Why is this important? What makes you think the Stone of Destiny is what they're after? I realize I'm probably reaching, but couldn't they be after the other legendary treasures: the Claiomh Solais —Nuada's sword, the Lúin Celtchair— Lugh's spear, or even the coire ansic —Dagda's Cauldron? They have more meaning than the stone. Most importantly, the Dark Fae is not a king."

Fáelán blew out a frustrated breath and met Rhona's direct gaze. "I don't think being a king matters. A few of the oldest references repeat the word ‘ruler,’ not king. I think Fer-Diorich plans on using the stone to rejuvenate himself as ruler. The scary question is where. Is he planning on ruling Tír na nOg, the Unseelie Court, or both?"

Morgan slumped down onto the sofa. "That's so not good."

* * *

Torin stood in the doorway of Gwyn's room, watching her sleep. She was so beautiful, curled up in the same spot where he’d slept the night before. He envied his pillow, tightly clenched in her embrace.

Imagining their daughter's wild, curly hair and large eyes filled with intelligence was an easy feat—and he knew the child growing in Gwyn’s womb was his.

A fist of fear tightened around his heart, and all his deep-seated anger dissolved. He loved her. Without a sound, he stripped out of his clothes and slipped into bed. Scooting behind her, he pulled her close, and her body tensed.

"Please forgive me, Gwyn. I can be so stupid sometimes. I should have let you know I was all right instead of letting you worry for so long. Being in a relationship is new for me.”

"Must be a male thing."

He chuckled. "You probably won't believe me when I say this, but I don’t mind that you’re pregnant. Your family's curse, on the other hand, terrifies me."

"I'm scared too, Torin. Morgan's the only family I have left. I can't lose her."

"You won't, I promise."

She shook her head. "Don't make promises you can't keep. Beltaine is drawing nearer, and we're still no closer to figuring out how to stop Fer-Diorich than we were a week ago."

"I trust my clan—and Rhona." He pinched Gwyn’s chin between his fingers and shook her head. "We'll figure this out, I promise."

"Other than what little I've been told or experienced, Rhona is still a relative mystery to my sister and me. We barely know her. Tell me more about her. Who is she...really?"

"She is one of four guardians, their families chosen by the Tuatha Dé to protect their sacred treasures." He leaned over and kissed the side of her neck, just behind her ear where the skin was most tender. "Enough talk."

"That tickles." Her soft mumble was followed by an airy snicker when he did it again.

"You smell like a fresh-baked honeybun," he whispered. "You're making me hungry." He kissed her shoulders then down her spine, trailing his fingers along the profile of her body, and was rewarded by goosebumps.

She whimpered softly as his thumb tickled the tender skin underneath her breasts. He rolled her over, and she wound her fingers in his thick hair, her lips soft and warm against his.

Breaking the kiss, he scooted lower, his large hands outlining the slight swell of her stomach. He dipped his head, resting his lips against her soft skin as he kissed the baby bump. He loved this child, especially after the first time she called him daddy and did so every time he kissed Gwyn’s soft stomach. He would wait, though, to tell Gwyn. He could also wait for her to tell him in her own time that he was the father.

He focused on the child. Stay safe, little one. He blinked. He could have sworn he heard two distinct giggles. Pressing a kiss to her downy skin, he was amazed at how fast his life had changed, reveling in the knowledge that she was his true mate. She had already given him so much. The most important gift, though, was hope.

He looked up, watching her face, so open and beautiful. Like a sweet caress in his mind, she whispered his name. “Let me in, mon coeur,” he commanded, his inner wolf growling in satisfaction when her long legs slid around his waist, leaving a trail of heat down his neck and collarbone with every kiss.

Pulling away, her green eyes glittered, her cheeks rosy from his whiskers. He loved how her auburn hair curled wildly around her head. As they parted, he focused on her mouth as the tip of her tongue moistened the full bottom lip.

Meeting her gaze, his senses drowned in their dark green depths. Her love reached out to him, extreme and wild, as it wrapped around his heart, encasing the organ like a warm blanket. Her essence flowed through his, and his spirit lightened.

* * *

Gwyn poured everything into him—her love, her friendship, her faith. More than anything, she wanted to erase his past and the pain he endured from losing everyone he loved. She pulled his head down to hers. Just before she kissed him, she whispered, "I love you."

The next thing she knew, she was pushing against his dead weight as he lay on top of her. With trembling arms, she rolled him onto his back, his eyes wide open but unseeing as he stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Straddling him, she pushed her fingers against his neck and felt for a pulse, exhaling in relief at the strong, steady beat.

She placed a hand on the center of his chest and shook him. No reaction. She shook him harder but still nothing. Her body trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. She cradled his head in her hands. "Torin! Snap out of it!"

She chewed on her bottom lip, and her brows ached from her fierce scowl. Her worry increased. His eyes never blinked. They just remained frozen on the ceiling above. "Torin..." she sobbed. "Don't do this—you're scaring me."

His upper body rose as if on a puppet's string, and he jerked upright into a sitting position. She sat back on his thighs, her breathing shallow, as she caressed his cheeks with her thumbs. One side of his mouth rose in a questioning smile, and he reached up, wiping the tears from her face.

"Why are you crying, mon coeur?"

She pressed her hands against his chest, his heart beat steady under her palms. "Oh my gods, you scared me. Don't ever do that again!"

He stared at her, confused. "Do what? What are you talking about?"

She frowned. "You... You don't remember?"

"I remember a heart-stopping kiss," he joked. He fell backward, pulling her down on top of him, and rubbed his hands up and down her back. "Okay, tell me what happened."

She lay her head against his chest and replayed the events, totally confused. Had she done something to him? Had she hurt him? His skin and body seemed normal, and his voice made her bones melt...so, yeah, he seemed back to his usual self. She inhaled, slowly exhaling away the stress. "I wanted you to feel what I did, and seconds later, you collapsed on top of me."

He frowned, pulling her hair into a ponytail and wrapping it around his fist like an anchor. "I remember looking into your sexy green eyes. You whispered something…” He frowned as if trying to remember what she had said and shook his head a few times. “We were about to kiss and I sat up."

She stared at him, his frown deepening. He tugged back her hair and kissed the tip of her nose. "I'll admit, I don't recall much after that, but I feel fine. Nothing bad happened."

She shook her head and sat up, pulling away from him and scooting against the headboard. "I don't think it is, Torin. I think I did something to you. You laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling for almost ten minutes." Her lips quivered. "Ten minutes! Why would you do that?"

* * *

He rolled onto his side and supported his head against the palm of his hand, his gaze never leaving hers. "I believe you, Gwyn. Something happened, but I can't believe you would ever hurt me. Even unintentionally. Here's what I do remember. Extreme happiness, feeling carefree, as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. But…I don't remember anything after that."

His forehead muscles ached from frowning. "How can I not remember climaxing? Males always remember a good climax."

She snorted. “Maybe because you didn’t get that far? If that's all you're worried about, we can try again, but much later…maybe after the baby is born. Right now, I need to know that I didn’t do something to you magically .”

His eyes widened and fell back against the mattress, mumbling in fast French.

"Torin?" She leaned forward. "You're scaring me again. What's wrong?"

He looked at her, amazed, his hand pressing against his heart. "It isn't there anymore." He let out a heavy breath. "I've carried the guilt for so long—it had become a part of me. How did you do it? Whenever I allowed myself to think about my family, there was only anger and guilt inside my heart."

He grabbed her hand and kissed the back, then pressed her palm against his breast. "You healed me, Gwyn. I have no idea what you did, but you took away all the anger and pain I held at being unable to save them from the Ironclaws.”

Gwyn breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm fine with that, but I'm just as dumbfounded as you about what I did. Right before you collapsed, I remember wishing I could heal your past. Guess my healing power is stronger than I realized."

She used one finger to brush the hair from his forehead, a momentary smile on her face before morphing into a frown. He knew she was worried about so many things, including Beltaine. Not knowing what to expect was killing him. He couldn't bear to lose her or the baby. "If I could take your place, mon ange, I would without hesitation."

"Hmm. I know. Life never turns out as we expect, does it?"

"No. It doesn't."

“I need to tell you something, Torin.” She hesitated, inhaling and then almost yelling the words he had longed to hear. “You’re the baby’s father.”

A slow grin spread over his face. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against hers. “Thank you for telling me.”

She pulled away and narrowed her gaze. “Why do you not seem surprised?”

He chuckled. “Our daughter has been calling me papa since the day you and Morgan healed me.” He reached down and placed his hand over Gwyn’s stomach, his thumb rubbing back and forth.

Worry for his clan and newfound family ate at him. Unfortunately, he was well aware of the Dark Fae's power, but he and his brothers had been fighting him for centuries and had gotten quite adept at thwarting his plans. The Fae had no conscience when it came to life or taking it, but Torin wasn’t about to sit back and let him take his family. Not this time.

Torin pulled on Gwyn's messy braid until she lay down at his side. "You won't be alone. Makari and I will be right there with you. Rafael and Fáelán will watch over your sister. We won't let anything happen to either one of you."

He lay there, listening to her soft puffs, her warm breath on his skin as he slowly relaxed. His body jerked, startling himself awake again, and questions filled his mind. Somehow, they had overlooked something, but he couldn’t grasp it.

Gwyn moaned, still half asleep. "What's wrong?"

"I think we've missed something—something important. I keep reviewing everything that’s happened but can't figure out what it is."

She yawned. "Something that important, you will remember. It just may take a while. Go back to sleep." She placed his hand over her baby bump.

"You're going to be so cute as our child grows inside you."

"Riiight. Hippos are so very cute." she snuggled deeper into the curve of his body. "Now go to sleep."

* * *

A feeling of peace settled around Gwyn as she walked beside Torin along the rock hallway. Those she loved the most were safe—for now. Arriving in the sitting room, she curled up next to her sister as Torin walked over to Fáelán, whispering something to him.

She glanced around the room, her gaze stopping on Makari and Rafael, who sat across from each other in front of the fire. The only wolf missing was Kilian, who still had not been located. Fáelán wanted to give his brother one more day to see if he would return before sending out a search party. Right now, though, everyone was getting a much-needed rest.

Between them stood a small table where they played a strange game. There were three decks of cards, nine die, and the weirdest game pieces she'd ever seen—bright red demons and small blue dragons. Even a vampire, bloody fangs and all, stood in the center of the board, looking like a walking advertisement for black leather.

One demon bent forward and flipped his hand toward a dragon who disappeared in a cloud of rainbow-colored sparkles. Her eyes widened when she caught the smirk on the second demon's face. When he turned to her and winked, she sat back in surprise. She leaned over to Morgan and whispered, "Are you watching the game?"

Morgan nodded with a quick shhh , her gaze never leaving the game board.

The plays became increasingly energetic, and just when Gwyn thought it would turn into a giant melee, the vampire stepped in with his arms raised above his head. Evidently, he was the referee.

She was glad when Fáelán picked up the vampire and quietly placed him on the mantle. Makari opened his mouth, more than likely to object, but Fáelán held up his paw. The black wolf's jaws snapped shut, and he slumped in his chair.

Torin passed out glasses to everyone but Gwyn while Fáelán poured what looked like red wine from a dark red bottle. "Before we start," Fáelán said in his soft voice. "I believe this occasion deserves to be celebrated with my special wine." Everyone stared at him with shocked expressions, waiting for an explanation.

Instead, he held up his cup, focusing on Gwyn and Torin, who stood behind her. "To your future and ours. Blessed be your love, your lives, and your children. Thank you for giving us hope." He closed his eyes for a second, then took a long drink.

Torin smiled as everyone stared at them in confusion. "Gwyn is my true mate." The room erupted in hoorays and howls, and both Gwyn and Morgan covered their ears. When everyone finally settled down, Torin added, “And she’s pregnant.” The room erupted all over again, making Gwyn's ears ring.

Makari leaned forward, his empty goblet cradled between his paws. "I'm happy for you both. This is indeed worthy of a grand celebration."