Page 7 of The King

“I do,” he smiled more sincerely. “But from the moment I laid eyes on my beautiful Mate, I knew she was the woman made for me, and when we were introduced, Kayne said her name was Bridgette. I thought it was an amazing name for a magnificent woman. Now, I cannot bring myself to call her anything else.”

"Aww," Maggie cooed. "That is so sweet. You just gotta tell her that story. Even our Ettie won't be able to resist that charm of yours when you say those wonderful words. I can feel how very much you care for her. It is as plain as the whiskers on your Panther's nose." Giving him a wink, she added with an exaggerated whisper, "After all, that's what you came here for, wasn't it? Advice?"

“Ah, Maggie MacAllen, you are truly an insightful woman.”

“Yeah, she is,” Heath proudly confirmed. Putting his arm around his Mate, he pulled her close. “And as soon as you find Ettie, she’s got a whole list of things ready for ya’. She’s been talkin’ about gettin’ you and your Mate together since right after we got back from our honeymoon.”

"I welcome all your suggestions," Max assured. Then, looking at Heath, the King schooled his features and, with all respect, asked, "Is it alright if I touch your Mate's temple?"

"It's okay with me, but you better be sure it's alright with her," the Guardsman chuckled. "And I appreciate the gesture, my friend. I am still working to control my jealousy. Not everybody gets that. Mating isn't easy, but damn, it's worth everything."

Shoving aside another wave of longing to share with his Mate what he had witnessed with not only Heath and Maggie but every other of his Dragon friends who had found the one woman the Universe made for them, he forced a smile and, with true admiration, freely admitted, "I look forward to finding out." Lifting his hand, Max looked into Maggie's eyes and extended his index finger. "I will simply lay the tip of my finger on your temple. You will feel the warmth of my Magic and the true affection and respect I have for you and Heath. If, at any time, you experience anything that makes you or your Wolf uncomfortable, simply tell me to stop, and I will."

“You got it,” Maggie cheerfully agreed. “Go on. Get to it. We need to find Ettie and bring her home.”

“Si, mi amiga.”

Touching the She-Wolf's face, the King pushed a steady, measured stream of the Magical Intuition he'd inherited from his mother into Maggie's mind. Psychically following the firing of the neurons in her brain, he traveled the well-defined pathways of her prefrontal cortex through her neocortex to the hippocampus.

Most of the colors were bright, beautiful, and welcoming, ranging from the primary shades of youth to the analogous hues of her teenage and early adulthood years to the full spectrum that only came with well-earned maturity. Oh sure, there were stretches of shadows and even a tiny expanse of deep, dark purples and blues where Maggie kept her sadness, but for the most part, everything was glowing and optimistic. She was nothing if not a well-rounded, capable woman, and Heath was lucky to have her.

A quick look around revealed a swirling rainbow of color muted with the grayness of concern and distress. Moving closer, the King saw Ettie's gorgeous face, and his heart skipped a beat. Light Emerald eyes framed with long, thick lashes that always sparkled no matter her mood, topped with perfectly arched eyebrows and a heavy fringe of bangs. They never ceased to amaze him and were only part of what made his Mate so beautiful.

Her alabaster skin was as smooth as silk and, when framed by her shoulder-length chestnut hair, had a glow that was damn near impossible to ignore. Her face was like a sculpture molded by one of the masters with high cheekbones, a button nose sporting a smattering of freckles he knew she secretly loved but outwardly cursed, and full, pink lips with a perfect Cupid's bow he could confirm tasted of Heaven and home.

At five-foot-seven, she fit expertly against his six-foot-five frame even when she complained that he was too tall. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, even stay away when his every instinct was to force her to admit they were meant to be together.

“Enough waxing philosophical,”Cass grumbled."Find the information we need. Rescue our Mate. Then you can tell her we're never leaving her side, no matter how much she complains."

“I may leave the last part to you.”

“I would be happy to oblige and add, 'You can run, but you can't hide,'"the Panther with whom the King shared his soul snorted.

“Wouldn’t you just,”Max snickered.

“So, get on with it,”Cass ordered.

With no further conversation, Max metaphorically walked directly into the mist of Maggie's memory at the beginning. Pushing more of the Mysticism he shared with Casimiro into the twirling colors, his focus never wavered from the image of his Mate. A flash of White Light, a pop of Enchantment, and the recollection played out just as the She-Wolf had described.

Watching and listening for the third time, he waited until the memory reached its conclusion before delving deeper. Adding a spark of the Mysticism he'd inherited from his mother's mother, his Abuela Adela. He did as she had taught him and changed the perspective from Maggie's to Bridgette's.

“Thank the Goddess for Adela,”he mentally whispered.

Not only was she the most powerful Dream Walker to ever live, but she was blessed by Caer Ibormeith, the Celtic Goddess of Sleep, Dreams, and Prophecy, with Divine Command of her Gift and had been instructed to share the talent with her first and only grandson. On his fifth birthday, Max knelt by Adela's rocking chair and was trained on how and when to use the miraculous ability.

“You must always use your Gifts wisely, Amorcito,” Adela warned. “And this one most of all. Walking through the minds of others, be it dreams or memories, is not something to be taken lightly. You must always ask permission. You must never stray from the path. And you must always keep what you are shown to yourself. Do you understand, Gatito?”

“Si, Abuela,” a five-year-old Max agreed. “But I am not a little cat. I am a Panther, the next King of the Big Cats. I am fierce.”

"Yes, you are all those things and so much more, but to me, you will always be Gatito, Amorcito,” she smiled. “Even when you are King.”

Using everything Abuela Adela had taught him to guide his every action, Max let Maggie's memory of her phone conversation with Bridgette replay. However, this time, he saw and heard everything from his Mate's perspective.

Instantly, he heard the rage in Bridgette's voice and felt her frustration. He saw the dilapidated public telephone with its frayed wires and broken mouthpiece, which only intensified the feelings of helplessness that pissed her off the most.

From one beat of his heart to the next, his senses were inundated by a bitter, antiseptic stench with undertones of turpentine, stinky cheese, overly sweet apples, citrus, pine, and resin. Then, there was the unmistakable bite and burn of chlorine.

Why didn't evil bastards fight fairly?

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