Cursed Wolf: Urban Fantasy Shifter Stand-Alone (Creatures of the otherworld Book 1)

by Brogan Thomas

  When I finish, Madán nods.

  “Thank you; I will take you home myself. I shall get one of the warriors to drop your car off in the morning.” He waves his hand above my head, and my team-link chatter disappears. I sigh in relief, massaging my temple—that will stop me from getting a massive headache. I also know with that wave that the cameras stopped filming.

  Madán takes hold of my arm, and we step back to my home. Lucifer goes nuts—I can hear him barking in the house. I have been working for only about six hours, but it has felt like forever. It has been a long-ass week, trying to catch that evil bastard. I can’t believe we did it.

  “Take the rest of the week off, Forrest, you deserve it. I am so glad that you are okay and unharmed. You did me proud today—well done.” I turn and impulsively hug Madán. Inside it makes me laugh, as my affection always makes him uncomfortable. Surprising the hell out of me, he hugs me back. “Go sort that monster dog of yours out—he sounds like he is trying to eat through the door. Mac will be in touch for when your next shift is.” I nod, and he disappears before I can say anything else. I still have his jacket on.

  I have to jump over my gate as my stuff is back at headquarters, with my car. I unlock my door with my spare key and Lucifer goes nuts, sniffing and squeaking in excitement to see me. “Hey, squeaky boy, you missed me?” Obviously not so much as Lucifer pushes past me, almost knocking my off my feet, crazy dog. He dashes outside, his fixated priority a perimeter sweep of the garden. I leave him to it. I am that hungry, I could eat a scabby rat.

  Luckily for me, I have a whole chocolate cake with my name on it calling for me. I skip and bounce towards my kitchen.

  Come to me, yummy chocolaty goodness; you want in my belly.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  I hate time off from work. It has only been a day, and I’m already bored. If I didn’t have Lucifer, I’d be working every hour, in a sad attempt to keep busy. But I have to be home for my dog, even if he isn’t arsed in spending time with me. Lucifer is content to sit on guard, watching the road and chasing birds that dare to land in his garden.

  We have a red weather warning in place for storms and heavy snow. The weather is horrendous, and the public has been warned to stay off the roads and stay at home. My Irish colleagues would say it’s a day for looking out, not looking in.

  Being cold isn’t my thing, and I think my moaning about the cold weather in the past has been slowly driving my colleagues nuts. Mac told me, when he dropped my car off, not to come back into work until the temperature rises.

  I didn’t know how to take that, but I handled it with my usual maturity by waving goodbye and running back into my house, giggling with glee. I hate not being at work, but I hate the cold weather more. Even though I have fancy solar-powered heating, nothing says homely to me like a fire in the log-burning stove, so I’m staying inside and having the fire on.

  While I’m getting ready for bed, the snow is coming down heavily, and lightning dances across the night sky. Freaky thundersnow—I had no idea that it could do that. The power goes out. I peer out of the window and shiver; I am not even attempting to sort out the electric in that. it can wait ’til morning.

  Unexpectedly I hear a tremendous bang outside and the whole cottage trembles, and what sounds like a glass in the kitchen falls to the floor, smashing. Cue Lucifer going nuts. I rush to the back door and let him out before he does damage to the door. Lucifer tears off around the back of the house, barking.

  I should probably go outside and check it out. I quickly grab my big coat, and I hop on one foot while stuffing my other foot into my wellie. Once both feet are clad in my bright orange Hunters, I make my way to Lucifer, and what I see has me jumping the fence and running across the field like a madwoman.

  A bloody dragon has crash-landed in my field!

  A big bloody dragon! I run, and a profound fear floods through me. It’s not feasible, it can’t be him, it can’t be. As I get closer, the dragon starts to shift.

  “Aragon!” I scream, throwing myself down in the furrow his crash-landing has created. I land in the deep hole next to him.

  Flakes of snow cover his beautiful face.

  I brush the snow away gently, my hands trembling. He is freezing to my caress. I try not to panic as I think of a way to get him safely into the warmth of the house.

  Why the fuck is he so enormous, he’s so much bigger than I remembered. His heartbeat is slightly fast, but I can’t see any wounds on his naked body. He must have healed when he shifted back. Tugging off my coat, I quickly cover him—not that my ankle-length coat covers much of him, bloody colossal bastard.

  I send my flames out around him as close as I dare in an attempt to keep him warm. I know he’s fireproof, but my coat isn’t.

  I jump up and scramble back up the farrow, trying not to let any of the snow and soil fall on him. I run as fast as I can towards my garden shed. I have a tarp in there that I can use to roll Aragon onto and drag him into the house.

  It seems to take me forever. It’s too cold and too far to drag him to the field gate, so I have to kick some of my wooden fence down to slide him underneath the rails. It’s better to get him inside as quickly as I can.

  I get him into the house, and somehow I manage to get him wrapped up and into bed—I am so glad that I am strong. With relief, I slump against the bedroom wall.

  Shit, he is still unconscious.

  I have no idea where he came from and why he ended up in my field or who hurt him. I hope to hell that he wasn’t struck by lightning.

  I shuffle across the wall towards the door. I need to leave the room and gather things Aragon will need when he awakens. I magically stoke the fire, and I use my warrior markings to enforce and strengthen the ward around the house as a precaution.

  I can’t believe he’s here in my home—wow, this is surreal. I rub my face. My hands are shaking and I feel dizzy. I need to keep myself busy to prevent myself from sitting and staring at the naked dragon in my bed.

  Or even worse...I have a little episode where my imagination goes positively nuts. I urm, see myself grab some hot soapy water and some tiny handcloths and I carefully wash Aragon’s body, with bow-chicka-wow-wow dodgy music playing in my head. Shit.

  I go back outside. The thunderstorm has moved on, although it’s still snowing. I check on my solar power and switch it onto the battery-only option; the lights in the house come back on. Sticking my head into the cottage, I turn on my outside lights, grab my hammer from the shed, and then hammer the shit out of the fence while putting the rails back on. I might as well do it now, while I am freaking out. If I don’t, Lucifer will just wander off and get lost, and even in wolf form, I don’t want to track him in the snow.

  It’s freezing, and my hands are blue, but I can’t go back in as there’s a bloody gorgeous naked dragon in my bed!

  Lucifer watches me; he isn’t bothered about the snow. He rolls onto his back ,wiggling. In the winter he prefers to sleep in the cooler utility room. Most nights, I have to drag him inside; he much prefers being outside on guard.

  When I have no more excuses I go back into the house. I shed my layers of outside clothing, prod the fire again, and put another log on. I don’t need the wood, but I love the smell. My hands sting with the heat. I poke my nose into my bedroom, and Aragon is still out. I decide that he might be hungry when he awakens, so I set to making chicken noodle soup.

  When I have finished the broth and I just need to heat the noodles in the microwave, I have a thought: what if Aragon needs healing? Oh my God, I have just left him in my bed, unconscious, for the past hour and he might need help! Yes, he’s all-powerful and probably the strongest shifter I will ever meet, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need my help. I feel like a total idiot.

  I creep into the bedroom. Aragon is still unconscious, his breathing and heart rate steady. I pull the cover away from his naked chest and lean over. My warrior mark glows. I’m just about to place my fingertips on his chest when Aragon sudde
nly moves, and one moment I am leaning above him and the next I am on my back with him lying on top of me. I let out a whine of shock. One massive hand is entirely wrapped around my throat, and the other is gripping my arm so hard that I can feel the bones grind together. I yelp with pain and Aragon slowly blinks at me.

  His beautiful eyes widen in horror, and he lets go. I roll out from underneath him and crash to the floor. Oomph. Well, that wasn’t quite the greeting I’d imagined in my head.

  My heart hurts a little. I get up, using the wall to guide myself. I nod at the clothing I had left on the bedside table and point towards the bathroom.

  Then I hurry out of the room and go back into the kitchen. I brace my hands on the counter and try my hardest not to cry. I know the dragon got startled when I leaned over him, it was probably just an instinctive reaction. He wasn’t trying to hurt me deliberately.

  I rub my wrist, and my lips wobble.

  The shower in the bathroom goes on, and then not even ten minutes later, Aragon comes into the kitchen, dressed in the standard warrior-recruit jogging bottoms and t-shirt that I had knocking about in my car. The whole outfit looks like, if Aragon breathed wrong, it would burst open like the Incredible Hulk’s from all his muscles.

  “I am sorry I hurt you, Forrest—I didn’t mean to grab you.” Instead of sitting, Aragon prowls towards me and stands in front of me.

  I hide my sore arm behind my back and shrug. I can quickly shift to heal, so it’s not an issue.

  I stare at his chest, feeling awkward. What do you say to the guy you are still madly in love with, and who has just found out that you faked your own death? Should I shout “Surprise!” while waving jazz hands?

  Aragon puts his hand underneath my chin to lift my head so I will meet his eyes. My head lifts, and his concerned, beautiful silver eyes meet mine.

  “Hi, Nutty. I am sorry I crashed back into your life—that wasn’t my intent.” God, he is beautiful. My stomach goes all swirly. He gently reaches for the limb that’s hidden behind my back and inspects it. He shocks the shit out of me when he brings my arm to his mouth and softly kisses my wrist in what I can only think is an apology. I shiver.

  “Are you okay?” I squeak out.

  If this is a dream, I so do not want to wake up. I cannot take my eyes off him. I greedily take him in.

  I thought my memory of him was detailed, that I recalled everything about him, from the exact colour of his silver hair and skin, to the shade of his beautiful eyes. The Aragon in front of me...my memories did not do him justice. It is as if I had remembered him in black and white, and now he is standing before me in full HD colour.

  Aragon’s chiselled face is a masterpiece of masculine beauty. My eyes drop to his full lips, with the bottom one slightly fuller than the top. I stare at him in awe, and shockingly he is looking at me in the same way. Like I’m the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. He must have hit his head.

  “I am okay… I miscalculated the storm.”

  My eyes widen, and I ask incredulously, “You got struck by lightning?”

  “I got struck by lightning.”

  I giggle. Aragon smiles, ruefully rubbing the bridge of his nose, the movement stretching the t-shirt to its limits. I gulp. Every lump and bump of his chest is defined.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask, licking my lips.

  “I could eat.”

  I nod and disappointedly move away from him. It’s for the best, as I have the almost uncontrollable urge to lick him, then shout at the top of my voice: I licked it, so it’s mine!

  Aragon sits at the island and watches me as I throw the noodles into the microwave. His presence and substantial size take over the whole kitchen. I huff in his smoky scent and feel safe for the first time in years.

  I pop the noodles into the bowl, pour in the chicken broth, and hunt down some extra chicken that’s hiding at the bottom of the pan to add to his bowl. I smugly put the bowl in front of him, look what I made written proudly all over my face.

  I have had yet to cook for another person, so it’s nice to show off. Look at me, I can make food, I am adulting perfectly, hear me roar.

  Roar.

  Aragon scrutinises his bowl with a smile; a chicken bone is floating at the top. I know the noodles are slightly stuck together and the broth is a tad salty, but it’s perfect comfort food. The pink pieces of chicken are delicious, and the black bits make them crunchy. He looks up at me, his eyes sparkling, and I give him an encouraging smile. He coughs into his fist and takes hold of his spoon.

  After we have finished eating, it seems that Aragon wasn’t that hungry after all. My curiosity has been building to an epic level. “So how did you end up here?” I ask.

  “Forrest.” Aragon taps the counter. With a sigh, he ducks his head and peers up at me from under his brow. “Since fate has forced my hand, I won’t lie to you.” His tone drops and his eyes are imploring, “I have known where you have been this whole time. I tracked you down the night you left, but I arrived too late to divert you from your plan,” he says in an almost-whisper. “I would never have stood in your way. Your friend Ava? She was going to send you to America. But I changed her mind. This is one of my safe-houses.” He taps the countertop again.

  Huh, Aragon doesn’t shout, “Surprise!” or do jazz hands either.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  I blink at him, think for a few seconds, and then nod. “Okay.”

  “What?” Aragon says in a strained voice. “That’s it? ‘Okay’? You’re not angry” He searches my gaze.

  I shrug. “How can I be mad when you have helped me? I ran away, faked my death...yet you let me go and continued to help me. I should also be saying, “Thank you.’”

  “I have been visiting you a couple of times—”

  “—A month?” I interrupt with glee, bouncing on my seat. Aragon shakes his head, a self-amused smile of mirth on his face.

  “No, a day,” he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He visits me a couple of times a day? Wow. I can’t believe I convinced myself that he wouldn’t care if I was out of his life. The sneaky dragon has been watching me.

  I emit a strangled cough and mumble under my breath, “Stalker.”

  “Absolutely.” He huffs out a laugh.

  “Did you ask Madán to give me my job?” I reach over and squeeze his forearm, dreading the answer. I like my job, and it’s important to me. I want to make the world a better place. I know it sounds so damn idealistic and naïve. But honestly, I am proud to be a warrior. If I can stop one child from having a childhood like mine, if I can take down the bad guys...it might not be world-saving, but each person I help is one more life living safer in the world. Aragon flips his arm over and takes hold of my hand.

  “Forrest, no, you got your job on your own merit. Madán is extremely impressed with you. I certainly would not have picked such a dangerous career for you.” He grunts. “Over the past few years, I have had the honour of not only watching you grow, but of seeing how strong, compassionate”—he grunts again—“and brutal you can be.” He shakes his head. A proud smile flashes across his plump lips.

  That smile makes my insides mushy.

  Something clicks in my head, and I know before I have even asked the question. “Madán gave you access to the footage from the magic cameras.” Aragon nods.

  He rubs his chin in preparation for telling me something else.

  “I do have one last thing I need to confess. You were alone, unable to shift, and sleeping a lot. I was concerned—” I narrow my eyes at him—“so I found the best guard-dog breed, and I made sure you would find him.” Guard dog…Lucifer? Aragon bought me my dog! Lucifer is mine to keep, forever!

  I burst into tears, big embarrassing sobs. I can’t help it—I bloody love my dog. I ignore Aragon’s horrified face as I lunge from my stool and throw myself into his arms. I pull Aragon down towards me. I kiss my amazing, incredible, thoughtful dragon all over his handsome face.

  He gave me my dog, ’cause he wanted me
to have a friend and something to care for.

  “Thank you, thank you so very much. I love him. I am so happy that he is mine and no one is going to take him from me.” Well, that was what I was attempting to say—it sort of came out a bit mumbled, what with all the snot and tears. Aragon nods...I think he got all that. He gently takes my head in his big hands and thumbs the tears from my cheeks.

  “You’re more than welcome,” Aragon says roughly. He coughs to clear his throat. “There will never be another person like you, Forrest Hesketh. You are so unique. I want you to know that I never acted out of duty when it came to you. It was always personal. That first day in my office, you lit up my world as if everything before you was just darkness. You have taught me the meaning of loneliness because when I don’t see you, I feel alone, and missing you is like physical pain.” He rubs his chest with his other hand, over his heart. “Losing you because I misjudged a situation was the worst moment of my life. Knowing I had to let you go and not knowing if you would come back to me…” Aragon closes his eyes; he leans forward. His forehead brushes mine. “I should have talked to you. Told you my plans. I lost you because of my arrogance. You were hurt…” Aragon growls, still stroking my cheek. “Forgive me?” he begs.

  “Okay,” I whisper in shock.

  His beautiful eyes meet mine.

  “You are it for me, Forrest. I waited lifetimes so we could meet.” I blink at him. That lightning has seriously messed him up. “I understand if this has come out of the blue. I know you will need time to process—” Fuck it. I grossly use my sleeve to clean my nose quickly and then I kiss his beautiful mouth to shut him up before he talks himself out of whatever is happening here. Oh my God, Aragon likes me!

  “I love you, you crazy dragon,” I mumble. I move away and peek up at him, checking to see that I haven’t made a stupid mistake.

  Aragon doesn’t run away screaming. Instead, he stands, and his arms circle me. He lifts me onto the counter. I suck in a ragged breath, my heart pounding in my ears. Butterflies explode in my tummy as he stands between my legs and pulls me in close.