Healing Harvest (A Wiccan Haus Anthology)

By Dominique Eastwick, TL Reeve and Michele Ryan

Falling Dragons:
Under the harvest moon, so much is possible even for two dragons with no one else in the world.

Maaka believed his whole life he was normal. Until, one day, at the end of the haka his New Zealand rugby team chanted every game, he blew fire. Now, he has been presented with two weeks at the exclusive Wiccan Haus resort. He hopes a little rest and relaxation will take away the heat.

Vyaler Crimson has a chip on her shoulder larger than her four-foot dragon. The last place she wants to be is at the Wiccan Haus. But when Rekkus orders her presence, she can’t think of a way out. Within hours of arriving on the island, her whole world is turned upside down. Not only does she find her mate, he has no idea he is a dragon.

Can two dragons manage the heat, or will they fall hard?

Welcome back to the Wiccan Haus.

Crouching Lion, Hidden Human:
Lachlan Onyx is on mandatory leave until he can get his head on straight. Diagnosed with PTSD, he has withdrawn from everyone and everything. However, the lion in him refuses to back down and allow him to wallow in self-pity. After receiving an invitation to visit the Wiccan Haus, he takes it. If it means getting back into the field and doing what he loves, he's willing to give it a shot. Except, there's one problem—Patrick.
CIA Counter Terrorism Analyst Patrick Smith—not his real name, is burned out. After seventeen years in a gray, monitor-filled room, he needs some time away. The more he sees, or learns about, the more it tears apart his soul. So, on the advice of his therapist, he signs up for a little getaway to the Wiccan Haus, in hopes of washing away the black spots on his soul. However, when he sees Lachlan Onyx, he finds a kindred spirit and, in less than a week, his whole world is turned upside down.

Samara Ramos, isn’t sure an island retreat can help her. After a mission gone wrong, she’s spent her time rehabbing and hiding. In order to take an instructional position within military, she has to complete a critical retraining, including learning how to use her prosthetic leg. When she sees her mission commander, she doesn’t know what to do, and when she sees a man who sets her on fire, she’s ready to go home. A week with Garrett and Lachlan could destroy her, or it could bring her back from the brink of self-destruction.

Three souls will mingle for a week, but when their time is up, will they walk away, or find what they’ve been missing?

Power to Forgive:
Once a powerful psychic, Molly Ranford is damaged from years of captivity and forced to use her abilities to obtain information and hurt others. Wiccan Haus is her last hope to heal and recover the powers she lost when she was freed.
Benjamin Kogan, Navy SEAL and part of the Para Elite force that rescued Molly and brought her to the Syndicate, can't stop thinking about the fragile girl he saved that day. The briefest contact overwhelmed her, leaving her paralyzed with fear. Forced to withdraw from her side, Ben knew her injured psyche couldn't handle anything else. However, he made himself a promise: he’d find the raven-haired beauty when the time was right.

During the harvest celebration at the Wiccan Haus, Molly must learn, with the love and help of her soul mate, to forgive herself and leave the past where it belongs—in the past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Decadent Publishing
• Release date: Jan 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781683611363

Dominique Eastwick

Award winning author Dominique Eastwick currently calls North Carolina home with her husband, two children, one lazy lab and one lazy Norwegian Elk Hound. Dominique spent much of her early life moving from state to state as a Navy Brat, because of that traveling is one of her favorite past times. When not writing you can find Dominique with her second love...her camera.

Book preview

Prologue

By Dominique Eastwick

Cyrus plopped down into the well-worn leather chair besides Rekkus’ desk in the private office marked Animal Control. Rekkus jerked his head but made no other indication he noticed Cyrus’ presence. The two best friends had been known to sit in the same room without saying anything for hours. Nothing new or out of the ordinary in his lack of enthusiasm at the other man’s presence. Cyrus ran his fingers over some new scratches on the arm of the chair. The babies cutting their nails on the furniture?

Rekkus turned, gave a smirk, and in a whisper so soft Cyrus could barely make the words out said, We are being stalked.

Cyrus, as casually as he could, leaned around the overstuffed arm to see a black and silver tiger cub moving in slow motion toward the dangling lace of his father’s boot. Across the room in a Moses basket slept his daughter in human form, sucking her stubby little thumb. Had he not seen the movement of a small tail coming out from under the desk, the last of the three cubs would have scored high on the stealth meter.

Are they working in tandem?

Rekkus nodded a gleam of pride lit his eyes. Best to wear your steel-toed boots for the foreseeable future.

A second later, two little tigers cubs pounced together at their daddy’s shoe.

As the cubs growled and tore at the laces, Cyrus eased back into the chair. Where is Dana?

Asleep, I hope. I came home for lunch, and she asked if I could stay a few minutes to allow her to fold the laundry in the babies’ room. Ten minutes later, I found her asleep on the pile she likes to call Mount St. Tiger. If she noticed I placed her in bed, she showed no signs of it. So here they are, hunting their da.

How long has this been going on?

A couple of hours. So, did you need something?

We should talk about the guests coming in over the next couple of weeks.

A lot of training going on. Chad has been working with a few of the staff to get the fields set. Rekkus signed a paper and placed it neatly in the Dealt With folder.

Sage thought it might be fun to add some harvesty challenges to the activities.

Translation, she thinks there needs to be some fun involved.

Cyrus wiggled his foot, getting the attention of his namesake. Rhys Cyrus didn’t disappoint. He immediately pounced on the black boot. You know, training can sometimes be fun. It doesn’t always have to be an ass whooping.

Rekkus offered him a droll glance but leaned back in his chair to listen. What ideas do you have?

Oh, nothing much. A corn maze with a twist, a paintball game, maybe capture the flag.

Yes, no, yes.

Come on. Paintball is a great way to get them out, see what they have in them, and perhaps blow off some steam. There is a lot of PTSD. Perhaps it’s a baby step they need.

Rekkus took a breath, leaned over, and picked up one of the cubs who was preparing to pounce on his sleeping sister. Okay, on one condition.

Name it.

You can’t play.

But…. Damn. He wanted to join the game.

No one is pointing a gun, even one filled with paint, at you. That is non-negotiable.

Cyrus wondered what the stats were on people being killed by paintball guns then decided he’d better not bring that up because that would put Rekkus on the Internet, and the Internet only made the man angry. Paintball it is.

Do you know if the case of fire extinguishers made it onto the ferry?

If it didn’t, I don’t think the crew would have cast off. They have serious concerns about a dragon with no control over his fire breathing.

If Maaka knew he was a dragon, the problem would be far worse. We need to ease that information to him slowly, Rekkus said.

Ease? You aren’t known for taking things easy.

We aren’t usually dealing with a fire breather, either. I have another dragon coming in to work with him, but she can’t get here until next week. Which works fine because that is when most of the training will be happening, and there will be a few more dragons on the island at the time as well. We will use this week to let the man relax.

What was the ruse to get him here?

Rekkus shrugged, No idea. I told Kaleb to get him here one way or another.

Cyrus could only imagine how that was. You know Ben Kogen is coming in next week?

Yeah that knee of his doesn’t look good. Rekkus rifled through some paperwork and made a couple of notes before putting his pen down. It’s a shame he isn’t a shifter. He is too good to have this take him down.

We knew this was a weakness when we started taking humans into the Para Elite Forces.

But this makes two great human soldiers who have been brought down by their knees.

Do you plan to make the decision on his future while he is here? One word from Rekkus, and a person’s future with the Para Elite Forces, the para worlds equivalent to the Special Forces in the human world, would be over.

No, he needs to come to that decision all on his own. Rekkus checked under his desk to find the two baby boys cuddled together asleep and completely naked. Dana will have a fit if she sees them like this.

Didn’t she also say never wake a sleeping baby.

She did. Rekkus went back to his paper work. Who else do we have coming?

We have Lachlan Onyx, Para Elite Lion Shifter, and Patrick Smith, aka Garret Cross, human CIA analyst, both dealing with PTSD but handling it in different ways. In the corner, the baby girl fussed. Cyrus stood and lifted her into his arms, placing her protectively against his heart. I think this might be a week I need to use my powers.

I disagree.

You always do. Except when it helps you.

There is a huge difference between asking you to read a watch that has been found and reading an object from someone suffering with PTSD. You of all people should understand that. The ugliness that pushes a shifter to suffer depression is going to be immense.

I am not weak anymore.

I never thought you were weak, Rekkus nearly growled. By the goddess, do you really want the images Molly Ranford has in her head? The guilt she must feel? Or perhaps you want to relive the moment that changed not only Samara’s life but her career path, too.

I’m not saying I will read them all, but I will if I feel the situation calls for it.

I might object but I would never stop you from doing what you feel you have to do. It was good for both of them that Cyrus bucked his authority on the small stuff occasionally. Otherwise Rekkus would become a tyrant. He reached into his desk and pulled out a list. The other people on the island next week include—

The door flew open to reveal Sage, breathing heavy. Oh, thank the goddess.

What? Rekkus asked.

They’re in here, Sage yelled down the hall before turning back to Rekkus. You have all three babies, right?

Yes.

Dana is frantic.

Rekkus stood up as his wife ran in looking completely disheveled. Cyrus didn’t question; he handed over the baby girl, knowing her mother needed to touch her. The boys.

Asleep under my desk. Rekkus closed the few feet between them and cupped her face. What has you so worked up?

I don’t remember even falling asleep but when I woke up, the house was empty, and the front door was banging against the frame.

Rekkus pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

I thought they had shifted and wandered off.

Next time, I’ll leave a note. He cast a look at Cyrus who bent to get the babies out from under the desk. You need to feed them. Let’s get you comfortable, and Cyrus will contact someone about fixing the door to our cabin.

Sage pulled the Murphy bed down and, with Dana still firmly in Rekkus’ embrace, she and Cyrus managed to get a diaper on the sleeping boys. The baby girl was starting to root; he could hear her grunt. Rekkus cast him a thankful glance then Sage and Cyrus slipped out and closed the door behind them.

How did the paintball idea go over? Sage asked.

Exactly as you would have expected. Cyrus smiled. They walked quietly through the empty Haus. The housekeeping staff was preparing the third floor rooms for the guests. Myron must have gone to take a nap in her caravan as her desk lay vacant. Sarka was nowhere to be seen.

Sage lifted her large bag of herbs and headed to the third elevator. And so it begins again.

You love every minute. he called over his shoulder, walking out into the brisk fall air. This week was going to be a cakewalk compared to the following, yet, for some reason, it was that week he looked forward to.

Falling Dragons

By

Dominique Eastwick

Falling Dragons

Under the harvest moon, so much is possible even for two dragons with no one else in the world.

Maaka believed his whole life he was normal. Until, one day, at the end of the haka his New Zealand rugby team chanted every game, he blew fire. Now, he has been presented with two weeks at the exclusive Wiccan Haus resort. He hopes a little rest and relaxation will take away the heat.

Vyaler Crimson has a chip on her shoulder larger than her four-foot dragon. The last place she wants to be is at the Wiccan Haus. But when Rekkus orders her presence, she can’t think of a way out. Within hours of arriving on the island, her whole world is turned upside down. Not only does she find her mate, he has no idea he is a dragon.

Can two dragons manage the heat, or will they fall hard?

Welcome back to the Wiccan Haus.

Dedication

Special Thanks to TL Reeve and Michele Ryan for working with me on this antho.

Chapter One

After a week of games and relaxation classes, New Zealand League rugby player Maaka Ngata had learned no more about how he had won an all-inclusive trip to the Wiccan Haus spa and resort than he’d known when he arrived. Myron, the cute receptionist who changed her name tag each morning, had simply replied to his inquiry, Hawt fire display.

Hot could be an understatement. His New Zealand team always performed the haka—a traditional Maori war dance guaranteed to send fear racing into the hearts of their opponents—before each game. Two games ago, he’d gotten so overheated, when he opened his mouth to stick out his tongue at the end, he breathed out a flame fifteen feet long. The stunt brought the stadium to a near riot. But no pyrotechnic expert had come in and made it happen. Somehow, Maaka had taken the heat of their dance into his belly and let it out in a display matching the dragon tattoo on his arm.

Had he not been front row center in the group of players when it happened, he could have hurt his teammates. Instead, they all later congratulated him on keeping such a fantastic secret. But the secret had been kept even from himself. Though he had managed to make it through the game, he had done so on autopilot.

Over the next week, he had done everything in his power to recreate the pyrotechnics but achieved no success. By the next game, he had convinced himself, if not the team, it had been a one off. However, no sooner had they completed the haka than he breathed a stream of flame that nearly singed the fans in the stands. Thousands of cameras and smart phones, and dozens of television stations recorded his fire-breathing antics. His nickname went from the Dragon to the Fire-Breather.

An American by the name of Kaleb, wearing a press pass on a lanyard around his neck, met up with him in the locker room at the end of the game. He held himself like a soldier, rather than a journalist, setting off alerts in Maaka’s mind. We both know that was no theatrical trick, the other man said, closing the door behind the last of Maaka’s departing teammates

Whether his visitor was reporter or soldier, he chose not to reply. They’d lost the playoff game by a point, ending the season, and he wanted to go home and find out if anyone in his tribe knew what the hell might be happening to him.

My name is Kaleb Theldon, the man went on. I have been asked to extend to you an all-expense paid trip to the Wiccan Haus. You will meet the ferry in Maine.

Maine as in America, Maine?

Yes, that one.

It’s halfway around the world.

Kaleb pushed a folder into his hands. Last time I checked.

Why would I want to go to Maine?

You need the Wiccan Haus, and while there is an easier way to get there, no one thinks it’s a good idea to send a fire-breathing dragon who can’t control his powers through the portal.

Portal? Dragon?

Kaleb patted his shoulder. You need this place. You will be reporting to Cyrus Rowan which, I hate to say, means facing Rekkus Duteigr. The first is fair and can help you, the second…well, let’s just say it’s best not to piss him off.

He had experienced no more episodes of fire spewing from his mouth or any other orifice, thus far. And what about the loud boom? As he’d floated in the serenity of the lagoon beside his hut, earlier, the whole island had started to shake, as if it might be imploding. When nothing else happened, he dressed and made the trek to the main Haus for dinner—and answers. Entering the lobby, he cast a smile at Myron or, as her name tag identified her today, TT.

As he passed her, she called out, Maaka, the big guy wants to see you in the office.

He didn’t need to ask who she referred to. Although the Haus stood on an island populated by a great many big and tall men, only one would be referred to as the big guy. He pointed to what he thought might be the office, and, at her nod, he knocked on the door and waited.

Enter, the deep voice of the darker female Rowan sister bid him.

The office hosted more people than he expected. Rekkus stood holding up the back wall. Next to him sat Cyrus, with Sarka behind the desk from him in a high-backed leather chair. A woman he hadn’t seen before lounged on the burgundy velvet sofa. She must be a new arrival. His cock jumped to attention. Though petite in stature, she was muscular in the way of MMA fighters.

Rekkus, this better make us square. The woman moved toward the doorway, where he stood.

Rekkus grumped, Not even close, Vyaler.

She focused on Maaka. So you are the human fire torch? She sniffed the air, eyes glowing. No, they burned. Flames flickered in her pupils. Oh no. Fuck no. Not now. Not this guy.

Knock it off, Sarka sneered, rolling her eyes. Dragons and their drama.

Maaka glanced from the petite firestorm to the others. Should I leave?

Not yet. Cyrus stood. Do you have anything belonging to your mother? Something she hasn’t touched since her dementia kicked in? Or, perhaps, something given to you by someone from your tribe. For you and no one else?

Not with me. We didn’t have much. As he spoke, he realized he did have two items. He reached into his pocket, his fingers coming into contact with his mother’s talisman. When she had given it to him, she’d made him promise to keep it with him, informed him it was now his burden to bear. No one must know about