by M. L. Briers
HIS MATE
STRANGE DAYS
BY
M L BRIERS
Copyright © 2020, M L Briers
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced whatsoever without written permission of the author, except for brief exerts in reviews. Any unauthorised reproduction or distribution of the material herein is illegal and may result in criminal proceedings. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to the internet or distributed via electronic or print without prior consent.
Note from the Author;
All names, places, and incidents contained herein are purely fictional and have no basis in actual events or linked to actual Humans, Witches, Vampires, Werewolves, Lycans, Werebears or persons living, dead or undead.
Copyright © 2020, Cover Design by; [email protected].
Table of Content
HIS MATE
STRANGE DAYS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER ONE
~
Kirsty spotted him the moment he walked into the bar. There wasn’t a woman in the place who didn’t immediately turn and stare, and who wouldn’t when the eye-candy was that good?
Six-foot-odd of tall, dark, and handsome with chiselled good looks and eyes the colour of crystal blue waters. His whole persona screamed bad boy; from the faded battered jeans, fitted tee, a pair of worn leather boots, to the shoulder length hair that had been loosely pulled back and tied at the nape of his broad neck.
The man was stacked with muscles, and boy did he wear them well.
Kirsty was in no doubt that he was a hunk of a wild time, and she wasn’t the least bit interested. That man had a secret that he shared with only a few like him, but she knew what it was. She could practically feel the animal magnetism from where she stood behind the bar, and there was a whole crowd of humans between them.
If she had to guess from looks alone; the broad shoulders, hard-muscled chest sculpted down into slim hips, but with powerful legs, she’d call wolf – not literally because that would make her look like an idiot – but in her book, witches and wolves shouldn’t mix – it could only lead to trouble.
Joe scouted the room for the woman he was looking for; the female that the witch, Madeline, had told him would be here. He stopped at the elfin like female behind the bar and took a second look.
With her short brown hair poking out in all directions like she’d put her finger in an electrical socket, curious brown eyes as she stared back at him, and the tilt of her chin when he made eye contact, he was in no doubt he’d found his target.
Joe put his best foot forward and headed right for her. Except for Madeline, an elder that the pack visited on the rare occasions they needed some magical intervention and only because she was family, everyone knew that witches were best avoided. Unfortunately, this was one of those times when only a witch would do.
Kirsty noted the wolfman coming her way and tried to get behind the width of her fellow bartender Byron, but the man was rounded like a beer barrel around the waist and blocking her not-so-subtle escape.
She would have shouted at Byron to move, but the only person who would have heard her over the pumping music and the chatter was the guy coming right for her, and that was what she’d hope to avoid.
Somehow, she didn’t think he had a dire need for a beer, but maybe she was wrong, perhaps he had the need to chow down on some of their not-so-world-famous ribs, and stick his nose in a doggy bowl of their best brew.
Kirsty hated to be around to see it, but she had two choices, jump the counter and try for the backdoor, or wrap her shields around her and hope to throw him off the scent.
She wanted to go with the first but chose the second – one essence of cooked bacon coming up for his wolf nose to savour, and no essence of a witch to be had.
Kirsty wasn’t sure what she’d done to be visited by a shifter, and she did try to wrack her mind for all the spells she’d performed lately, but nothing stuck. Could one of her spells have been used against a pack? Boy, she hoped not.
The last thing she wanted to do was miff off a supernatural because that was just asking for trouble, and the only kind of trouble she liked was the kind she made and could control. That shifter didn’t look like he was controllable, but everyone had their weak spots.
Just as Joe reached the bar; she pretended to notice him for the first time and played her part well, if he called her on it then she’d claim to be nearsighted, or short-sighted, or whatever it was when you couldn’t see a thing that wasn’t right under your nose, and she didn’t want him getting that close.
“What can I get ya?” she asked, trying to look as bored by him as humanly possible. Which was ironic as every other female in the place was practically drooling.
“Beer and ten minutes of your time,” Joe replied.
“Yeah, I serve booze and nothing else, perv,” she shot back. “But, bright side, it doesn’t look as if you’re gonna have to pay for what you’re looking for.” She motioned to the interested looks he was getting from the women around him, and not just the single ones.
Joe didn’t have time to mess around. He reached in his pocket and drew out the peacock feather that the elder had given him, sliding it onto the bar in front of her just as she placed the beer down.
Kirsty eyed the feather and then him. Damn, but she hated the code of witches. How she’d love to tell him to jog on so she didn’t have to get involved with any drama, but honour called, and she answered. “Why didn’t you say so?” she said, and a heartbeat later, she’d jumped the counter and dropped down beside him. “Byron, I’m on a break,” she called over her shoulder, uncaring if he heard her or not. “Let’s go out back.”
Joe followed her through the crowd and out the backdoor into the open that backed on to the bar. “Just like that – I give you a feather, and you trust me?” he asked, a little perplexed.
Strange, but he didn’t like that idea. He could have been anybody, and she could have been in danger.
Kirsty folded her arms and cocked an eyebrow at him. “The witch vouched for you, and that’s good enough to get you those ten minutes,” she informed him. “Do I trust you? Not in this lifetime, Jack.”
“It’s Joe…”
“Good for you, Jack, and you’re running out of those minutes,” Kirsty replied, staring him right in the eye and holding that look.
Sure, she knew it wasn’t the best idea to do that with a shifter, a challenge was a challenge after all, but she wanted him to know that this meeting was on equal terms.
But of course, she didn’t trust him; he was a wolf shifter, and she was a witch, and her magic was locked and loaded at her fingertips ready to go should he be stupid enough to act on that challenge. She was just as powerful as him, just in a different way, and she wasn’t
about to act like he was the top of the food chain when they both knew he wasn’t.
Joe wasn’t sure that the elder was firing on all cylinders the last few years, but for his brother’s sake, he was willing to take the chance. “I need a witch,” he said and waited to see if that statement sparked any interest.
“And I need a million bucks, what’s your point?” Kirsty asked, shrugging.
“I have a problem, and I need you to help,” Joe said. He didn’t want to spill the beans too early and have her running for the hills.
“I’m going to have to guess; is it – sexual?” she asked on a mocking whisper. She doubted it.
“No,” he growled, turning his nose up at the idea. His wolf didn’t like the question much either. “It’s … personal,” he said, unsure how to broach the problem without her leaving, and she was pretty much his last hope.
“Like a mental disorder?” Kirsty couldn’t help herself. The man obviously didn’t know when he was being played, and he had no sense of humour that she could find a trace of, so why not have a little fun at his expense. It certainly beat guys gawping at her boobs.
Shame, the personality didn’t match the wrapping, because he was eye candy, and she could use some extra cash from her witching job as things had started to dry up lately, but she didn’t think she could work with him – too straight-laced, and his good looks were distracting.
“My physical and mental health is just fine…”
“Mating spell?” she asked.
“Huh?”
Now she was just throwing things at him while he was trying to work out what to say, and it just added to the feeling of frustration that had dogged him lately. What the hell was a mating spell, and why would he want one?
“You want me to call your mate?”
“I’m good…”
“Then come on, Jack, let me hear it – you’re running out of time, and I’m running out of patience…”
“A vampire,” he rushed out, getting her message loud and clear and knowing that he had to pitch it to her even if she said no. He needed to give it a try before she walked away.
“I don’t like vampires,” Kirsty said.
“Does anybody?” he tossed back, and she saw a spark of life in the crack of his sense of humour vault – there might be hope for him yet.
“You want him dead?” Kirsty asked – wondering if she should even bother with this conversation.
It hadn’t got to the point in her life where she was desperate enough for cash to try to kill a bloodsucker – yet. It would have been safer just to shove her head in a lion’s mouth, or maybe miff off a wolf, but to willingly go up against a vampire – that took stupidity, and she wasn’t stupid.
“That’s the very opposite of what I want…”
“You want me to bring him back to human life?” Kirsty pulled her head back and screwed up her face. “If that is even possible, I’m not what you need; I don’t mess with necromancy. You need a VooDoo Priestess for that.”
“That’s not…” Joe stopped, took a breath, and shook his head. “Impossible.”
“Yeah, but she’d give it her best shot and charge you a pretty penny and some live chickens for her trouble.”
“Chickens?”
“Don’t ask,” she said, waving it away. “Although, I’m sure being a wolf, you’ve chased your fair share of those.” She chuckled, but he didn’t look too happy. It seemed they were right back to him having a sense of humour failure again.
CHAPTER TWO
~
Joe knew the type. A witch with an attitude. What had Madeline got him in to? “Look, Betty Broomstick…”
“Kirsty, but then you knew that,” she said.
“I have a job for you, and it pays well, are you interested?” he asked, unsure why he was even there. Then he remembered; he’d do anything to save his brother.
“Ooo, someone’s snappy,” she replied.
“I’m guessing that’s a wolf joke…”
“I’m guessing you don’t have a sense of humour,” she replied.
“My brother has been turned…”
“Into a vampire?” she asked, looking at him as though he’d just jumped ship – an alien spacecraft with lights flashing and everything.
“No, a Mogwai,” he shot back.
“Oh, you can make a funny,” Kirsty said. “Well, I’d recommend not feeding him after midnight and keep him away from water, and you’ll be good to go.”
“Yes, a vampire.”
Joe didn’t know if Madeline was just taunting him by sending him to this witch, or if she was going senile, but he wasn’t sure this was the witch he needed.
“Boy, he lucked out, a Mogwai then a vampire, who’d he miff off, Satan?” Kirsty said.
Joe opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. This was hopeless. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, but it wasn’t this.
Kirsty noticed that the shifter had gone all broody and silent, and she threw him a proverbial bone – because she didn’t think he’d appreciate a real one – having no sense of humour and all. “So, you want me to do what – exactly?” she asked. “Can’t bring yourself to kill him?” Kirsty drew her finger across her throat and made a gargling sound, and watched as he screwed up his face.
“I already told you I don’t want him dead-er than he is right now. Look, maybe I made a mistake coming to you…”
“How long ago did he transition?” she asked.
There was a time to mock, and there was a time to play nice, sometimes you could do both, and this was one of those times.
“A month…”
“So, he’s seen a full moon, and it didn’t drive him insane?” she asked.
Joe was surprised that the witch even knew what could happen to a shifter wolf that had been turned. Maybe Madeline wasn’t wrong about her after all. “Yes,” he replied.
Joe had been grateful for that at least. If his brother had gone to the dark side of his new existence, then there would have been no choice but to kill him. “He’s an alpha…”
“And a newbie bloodsucker with a lust for blood – not interested,” she said, deciding on the spot that whatever this gig was, it wasn’t for her. Although, in truth, she had lied; she was kind of interested.
There were risks with any job, even a love potion could come back to haunt you if you slipped up, and who needed some love-struck jerk with a magical blessing stalking your every move? She certainly didn’t. But an alpha turned into a vampire – that was just a little too real.
“Wait!” he said, holding up in hands at his chest like he was surrendering to her in the hope that she would hear him out. “He has full control…”
“Sure he does,” she chuckled.
Joe couldn’t believe it either, but it was true. “I don’t know how, but I promise you, he is in full control of his bloodlust.”
“That’s…” Kirsty stopped and considered it. “Unique – as far as I know.”
“So are you interested in helping me?”
“What? No.”
“But…”
“If he’s a vamp with control, not worried about the full moon, and you don’t want him dead, what more could you possibly want – you have the trifecta, take the win.” Now she was curious.
“I need you to find a spell if there is one, so he can shift into his wolf…”
“Are you friggin’ nuts?” she snorted a chuckle. “Lost cause. No supernatural being retains their former powers when they turn into a vampire, even your lucky one.”
“A legend says otherwise,” he informed her.
Now Kirsty wasn’t just curious; she was drooling. New magic? Something no other witch had tried before – in her lifetime – and she’d get paid for giving it a whirl?
“And where would I find a spell like that?”
“The pack has…” He looked reluctant to say. “Books.”
Kirsty wasn’t just drooling; she was ready to beg for the job. But, she didn’t want to seem too ea
ger. “I can give you one day to see if your legend is viable,” she said. “If the pay is good,” she added.
She would have done it for free just to see what that legend said and get an eyeful of those books, but he didn’t need to know that. Nobody looks a gift-wolf in the mouth.
“I’ll give you five hundred for the day and night, and full payment of five grand if you manage to complete the spell…”
“Even if I kill him?” she said with a mischievous grin.
“What?” Joe growled.
“Just kidding,” Kirsty shot back. “But you should have seen your face.”
~
“You’re insane,” Erin said, dropping her backside into the comfy chair in Kirsty’s bedroom and watching her friend hastily pack an overnight bag. She kicked her legs up over the padded arm and folded her hands behind her head as she watched.
“Yeah, possibly, and five hundred richer for twenty-four hours of nosing through old spells and legends,” Kirsty replied over her shoulder.
How did a person choose what to pack for an overnight stay at a wolf pack? One thing she didn’t think she’d need was a little black dress and killer heels.
“What if the guy is psycho and he’s luring witches to their death?” Erin asked.
Kirsty turned a curious look on her friend. “Well, isn’t that a cheery thought?” she said. Her tone was dry, and she offered Erin a pointed look. “Wanna come?”
“I would, but I have spin class…”
“Please, I know the only thing that you spin are bottles at the bar,” Kirsty replied, turning her attention back to stuffing as much as she could into her bag.
Kirsty never packed light, because fate always threw a spanner in the works and you never quite had what you needed when you needed it, and she hated to be unprepared. While she was tempted to throw that little black dress into her bag, she was sure that was a definite no-no.
“Do you think you’ll get a suit of armour in there?” Erin teased.
Kirsty frowned, that wasn’t a bad idea – too bad she didn’t have one. “When we went on holiday last year, who had to loan whom a special dress and strappy shoes when we got invited on that guy’s yacht?” she reminded her.