Page 1 of The Jaguar's Flower

Prologue

Davorin’sattentionremainedonthe fireplace while the midwife assisted his mate upstairs. His hand gripped the mantle in an attempt to ignore the wailing screams of her labor. Her pain fueled his anger as he stabbed the fire with the poker. At the whiff of blood, his body tensed. He glanced at the stairs and waited for anyone to bring an explanation.

“Davorin?” Hellebore, his right hand, called to him. When Davorin turned, he noticed a hand on his chest. “You were ordered to remain down here, sir.” He wished to be inside the room, but he would do more damage than good.

“I am the chief of this clan.” Davorin’s tone carried a dangerous edge toward the shifter. “I will not stay put when my mate is dying up there!” He felt out of control. “Move out of the way, Hellebore.”

If anyone else tried to stop Davorin, they would have died. He applauded his second for the show of bravery or stupidity. At his growls, Hellebore remained steadfast. Before Davorin snapped the shifter’s neck, an ear-piercing wail stopped him.

The midwife raced toward Davorin. Her black dress bounced with every hurried step. Blood smeared her once white apron, which matched her bonnet. The sight brought terror to both men as she inhaled. “Chief, she needs you.”

At her distressed appearance, fright gripped him. The shadows in her large, dark eyes begged his heart to prepare for the worst. Hellebore stepped aside, and Davorin raced up the stairs to his mate. When he reached her bed chambers, time froze.

He untied his cravat, hoping to catch his breath. As he stepped forward, the sickening sweet aroma of blood assailed his nose. The chill struck him like a hand of death. The warmth his mate brought to his life simply vanished. He frowned as he watched his sweet Genevieve in bed.

With every step, Davorin’s heart grew heavier. He reached the bed but could not bring himself to look up. His eyes remained planted on his black shoes until he heard her soft groan. There was no mistake. His mate lay dying.

His heart felt ripped from his chest as he lost his breath. Genevieve lay against the prop of pillows while a deep crimson painted her white dress between her thighs. “Ginny?” He called to her as he reached for her hand.

The midwife rushed to the other side of the bed. The doctor from the clan closed his medical bag with an audible click. “She does not have much time, sir,” the woman whispered.

“What happened?” Davorin asked, but no one answered him. His bottom lip quivered as he noticed his mate’s clammy skin and her black hair plastered to her skin. Her vibrant glow was stripped to nothing more than ash. Her paleness reminded him of death.

“She needs your strength for when she passes.” The midwife barely spoke the words before she walked away.

“Why can nothing be done?” When his gaze turned to the doctor, he shook his head solemnly. “Are we not shifters? We are stronger than the humans!” Davorin growled as he left his mate’s side. As he charged toward the doctor, the midwife prevented his assault. “Let go of me,” he snarled.

“It was not one child, sir,” the doctor answered. “She bore three cubs. The last was a breach. There was no other option.”

“You speak lies, doctor!” Davorin growled as he charged the man. The doctor barely snarled in defense. “Save my mate! Find a witch! Anyone! Tell them I will pay anything if they can save my wife.” His knees buckled as he caught himself against the bed.

He noticed the deafening wails across the room. The cubs sought comfort and warmth, yet he had none to give. His attention returned to Genevieve as he raced to her side. “Ginny.” He sat beside her and grabbed both of her hands.

Her skin felt icy to the touch. Her gray eyes dimmed compared to the luster he loved. He felt death’s presence but denied it. “Find someone!”

“Dayo.” Her soft, feminine voice that once held the sunshine became an empty rasp. It hurt him deeply. He pushed back her hair and reached for a damp rag to wipe the sweat from her brow. “Please,” she whispered again.

“Do not speak, my love.” He glanced down her body and winced as the deep shade of red only grew larger. “We will find a way to heal you.” He nodded as he stared into her eyes. “We will save you, Ginny. Save your energy. Do not speak.” He cupped her cheek and wiped the tears from her eyes. “They need their mother. Three cubs, Ginny. You cannot let me do this alone. You must stay here with me.”

“It’s too late, love,” she whispered. Her words sounded clear as day. “It’s too late.” He denied it.

“Why is no one getting a witch? Someone to save her?” He demanded answers. The doctor and midwife remained near the bassinet. Their expressions told him the truth that he refused to accept.

Genevieve squeezed his hand, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “Show them love, Dayo.” Her soft breath tickled the scruff of his beard, and he knew he would forever miss it. “They need you more than ever.” Her voice softened as her strength faded. “Do not blame them, love. I am happy they are here.” He refused to see her view. “Love them. Protect them.”

He looked at the midwife for answers. When he felt his mate’s hand fall from his, he barely gathered enough strength to swallow the sob that begged to be released. “We had to cut her, sir,” the doctor explained. “The complication would have killed them both. It was her decision.”

“I am losing my mate!” Davorin shouted as he felt the loss of his mate’s hand in his. His gaze returned to her body. His strength evaporated as he noticed her butchered state. When his eyes landed on hers, he choked as he noticed her smile before her life faded from her body. “No, no.” His voice shook as he gathered her into his arms. “Stay with me. Stay, Ginny, please,” he begged.

Their cries reached his ears. His mate died before his eyes, but he could not save her. He blamed himself.No. This is their fault.He rose from the bed and walked over to his cubs. They caused his mourning. Because of them, his mate died. She would no longer brighten his world with her smile and gentle nature.

He reached into the bassinet and held one of the young cubs in his arms. The cub fussed against him. The midwife tried to take his child from him, but he pushed her aside and shook his head. When he looked at the doctor, the shifter barely nodded before he left the room.

It would be simple to kill his children. The act wouldn’t bring his mate back, but it would fulfill the vengeance he craved. They killed Genevieve. It would only be fair to return the favor.

When he traced the cub’s cheek with his large finger, the cub gripped the appendage. “What are they?” he asked the midwife as the cub continued to grip his finger.

“Males, sir,” she whispered. After she rose to her feet, she kept a safe distance from Davorin but remained close in case something happened.