by J. K Harper
2
One thought penetrated Wyatt's consciousness as he caught sight and scent of the paling human male with Bryony: Bryony was his, no one else's. He damn well was going to throttle the hell out of any pathetic pipsqueak who thought otherwise.
Didn't matter that Wyatt had only ever kissed Bryony once in his life. Last week, under the half-moonlight along this very riverwalk after a most unexpected dinner spent with her. Didn't matter that she was a wild child who itched to leave Serenity in her dust as soon as her doctor or whatever decided her leg was healed enough that she could go back to her job. Didn't matter that attacking a human was definitely verboten in the shiften world. Fuck that. This was one dead male for daring to just breathe in Bryony's space, let alone touch her like he was allowed to do so.
Wyatt was the only one who could touch her, ever again. Bryony was his—his—
Shit. She was his what, exactly? His mind warily circled the possibility even as his attention was snagged by the shrieking reality of the moment. Literally shrieking.
Apparently, Bryony was his furious, yelling, angry something right now, was what.
“Wyatt Watson, stop! What the hell are you doing?” She'd lunged forward to grab his hands, which were satisfactorily almost closed around the terrified guy's throat. “Don't!”
Wyatt felt bright rage grip him harder in his desire to simply protect what was his. But he held it in check. Using every ounce of strength, he forced himself to listen to Bryony's outrage and stand down.
"Who the hell made you the head caveman around here anyway?” Bryony stood with her arms down at her sides, fists clenched, her impressive breasts heaving as she yelled. Scrappy and strong. Just like she'd always been.
Even when furious, damn, she was gorgeous. Her long, dark hair was caught back in a braid, with small strands clinging to her damp forehead. Eyes the color of caramel mocha, which was what she smelled like, too, were stunning even though they snapped with her shocked anger. And that body. The curves he'd been able to touch and stroke for far too short a time the other night taunted him now, displayed under her clinging running pants and a tank top he was almost jealous of for the way it could mold itself to her.
Damn, this woman made him crazy. Wyatt literally bit his own tongue to shake himself out of it and force his hands to relax down. The man he'd been about to strangle let out a terrified squeal and hid behind Bryony.
As if echoing his thoughts, Bryony said in that creamy-smooth voice that about brought him to his knees each time he heard it, “You're acting like a psycho! Shelton could call the cops and have you charged with assault if you touch him." Her pretty brown eyes narrowed at him. “Of course, since you're a wannabe cop here yourself, your po-po buddies would make sure the charges wouldn't stick."
Po-po? Despite himself, Wyatt snorted.
Bryony's gorgeous eyes narrowed even more.
From safely behind her, the man said in a nervous wheeze, "There won't be any charges." He put his hands up in the air as if he were the one who should be arrested. “I'm engaged. To her best friend. Whom I love dearly and have eyes only for.” His voice stuttered in its nervousness. “I don't want anything to do with Bryony. She's all yours. Ah," he stammered and cast a dubious glance at the back of Bryony's head. "That is, if she wants you. Which at the moment seems kind of doubtful.”
Wyatt clenched his jaw at the rambling human. Enough. “There won't be any trouble as long as you stay away from her. Do you understand me?” His voice was gravel. He could hear the edge of his pissed off wolf in it.
The man shook his head so vigorously his brains probably bounced.
"Excellent." Wyatt dismissed the man and moved his gaze back to Bryony.
She looked back at him with her chin tipped up a bit, an unconsciously defiant stance that made him want to smile at how fierce she was. Which was very fierce. And strong. The night they'd had dinner, she'd told him about her badass job, her breathtaking accident, the sheer grit and determination of her healing journey ever since. She was as strong as she was sexy. It turned him on to a ridiculous degree. Turned him on so much he wanted to grab the woman, right here and now, and pull her close to him while he aimed his lengthening canines for the sweet flesh of her shoulder.
So he could bite her and make her his.
Wyatt ground his lower jaw at the bizarre, completely unexpected thoughts that had been dogging him ever since he'd reconnected with her. Desperate to get around it, he instead blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "So since we've made sure your tagalong here isn't a problem, you agree to have dinner with me again? Tonight." His tone said he expected nothing but a yes answer.
Her eyes now widened as her mouth dropped open. Then fire stormed back into her expression. Hell, maybe she was right. He was turning into a damned caveman with no manners whatsoever.
Before he could get open his mouth to try and salvage what was probably a much too cocky attitude, he was jostled from behind. Whipping around to level a glare at the other wolfen who had just smacked into him, Wyatt desperately tried to signal with his eyes. Too bad using ruhi, the mind speak some shiften employed on occasion, never had been his strong suit. Looking at him like he was crazy—yeah, okay, there was a theme here—his running buddy tilted his body so he could see past Wyatt, then made a grunting noise of understanding.
"Hey, Bryony. This dickhead giving you any trouble?"
Wyatt snapped his head around just in time to see something that looked suspiciously like a smile twitch on Bryony's full lips. She snorted, then shook her head. “Just trouble for himself, Mac. Same as when we were kids. He never grew out of it.”
Mac gravely shook his head back at Bryony. “Yeah. Fatal disease for him, troublemaking for himself. You hear that, World Wide Web?” He jabbed Wyatt in the side and gave him a hard glare. “You're going to troublemake yourself to an early grave.”
Bryony's eyebrows rose. “You guys still call him that?” A sudden, reminiscent smile turned her lips up more as her irritation seemed to drain away.
Yes. Now she did finally smile, full and open. Right at Wyatt. He felt the rage and possessiveness leak away in the face of the sweet, stunning beauty that was Bryony when she smiled. Not even the idiot human guy, still nervously peeking out from behind her shoulder as he kept a suspicious eye on Wyatt, asking, “World Wide Web? Why do you call him that?” could dampen his spirits now.
Bryony's face bloomed like a gorgeous flower when she smiled. It was genuine, too. She wasn't as pissed anymore, and she wasn't mocking him. “Childhood nickname. Because his name is Wyatt Walker Watson.”
Wyatt felt a shiver of delight tiptoe up and down his spine at the sound of his full name rolled in her mouth, kissed by her lips.
“It got turned into World Wide Web when we were all kids. I guess it stuck,” she added softly.
The guy nodded, his gaze now flipping between Wyatt and Mac, his trepidation still evident. Wyatt grunted under his breath. He and Mac were both big, strong wolven. Huge male wolf shifters. They probably looked scary as hell to this guy. That, and they were both cops. Well, Wyatt was almost a cop here in Serenity. He was just waiting for the paperwork to clear from his old department back in Ohio. He snorted again. He and his fellow po-po couldn't go around terrorizing the very citizens they were supposed to protect. He needed to chill. Now that Bryony was smiling at him—and why did that make him so stupidly happy, anyway?—Wyatt could let himself chill like a rock star.
“Look, I'm sorry I was a dick earlier.” He ignored Mac's knowing jab into his ribs. Mac always called him dick anyway, like it was his name or something. “But I was thinking about—”
Wyatt heard his own voice cut off so suddenly it was like someone had sliced it out of the air with a knife. Bryony, now relaxed, had stepped to the side to let the human guy more into the small circle of conversation. As she did, she turned slightly to him, smiling encouragement. Her shoulders, bare under the bright white tank top, flashed tan beneath the sliding dapples of th
e sun as the maple branches overhead whispered back and forth in the small breeze. One shoulder, her right one, was smooth and unblemished.
But her left shoulder was marked, branded by a tattoo as intricate as it was obvious. It snagged Wyatt's eyes and stifled his words.
Mac sucked in a sudden breath, his entire body tensing. “No fucking way.” His deep voice dropped into the sudden silence, seeming to echo through it. “Bry, where did you get that tattoo? How long have you had it?”
Wyatt thought his head might explode. It felt like a vise gripped him there as his vision tunneled down to see only what was on Bryony's shoulder.
The tattoo seemed almost like a living thing, so fluid and perfect and beautiful it was. It rippled on Bryony's shoulder as she frowned back at Mac's sharp tone, at Wyatt's eyes boring into her flesh. Golden brown with an iridescence shimmering beneath it, the tattoo showed a wolf snarling in one direction while a beautiful angel gazed in the other. Twined together by an intricate design, the two images complemented one another in a balanced way, despite the fierceness of the wolf and soft strength of the angel.
Clearly puzzled, Bryony answered Mac although she kept her gazed locked on Wyatt. “Since a trip to Nepal a few years ago. I met a sage, like an actual wise man, and he gave me this really cool necklace with a pendant. He said it was a gift to remind me of my true self.” She smiled in some self-deprecation at the memory. “That sounds silly, but I do always feel more centered when I think about it. It's just like my tattoo.” She raised her hand up to lightly skim the tattoo with her fingers.
As she did so, Wyatt felt his renqua flare into hot life on his own left shoulder. The bright, sweet heat seared him and he made a small noise of startlement. Mac ground his sneakered foot onto Wyatt's.
“I adore that pendant,” Bryony went on in the smooth, musical voice Wyatt could listen to forever, “but with my work, I couldn't wear it all the time. I'd lose it, or it would get broken.” She shrugged. “So I got a tattoo that looks exactly like it. Well, the pendant itself is gold, but that's hard to recreate in a permanent tattoo. I found an artist who did a pretty good job, though. I love it. It makes me feel...whole.” Her voice dropped as she again lightly stroked the tattoo, almost unconsciously.
Mac rounded on Wyatt. “You didn't tell me about that. It changes everything.”
Wyatt shrugged one shoulder, irritated at the commanding tone in Mac's voice. “I didn't know.”
Bryony stared at them both, her friend once again trying to melt behind her as even he with his puny senses recognized the burst of testosterone and unease that exploded into the air from Wyatt and Mac. “Are you both crazy? Is this crazy cop day or something? You guys are both being weird. What's going on?”
But Wyatt just stared back at her, any words he could use to explain dying away as a true growl threatened to rattle its way out of his throat.
Bryony had a tattoo of a mingled wolf and angel. Bryony also had a pendant of a mingled wolf and angel. A gold pendant. Given to her by some guy, some wise man, who told her it would remind her of who she really was.
A pendant, just like all of the...
Staring at the tattoo, then into the confused, beautiful brown eyes looking back at him, Wyatt felt his world shrink and explode at once. No fucking way indeed. Bryony just might be one of the women he only recently had found out was real.
A one true mate.
Half human, half angel, and precious beyond belief in a world where all the female shiften had been killed by the demon Khain. Killed like Wyatt's own mother, many years ago. One of those who'd been thought unreal, impossible, until the first one had shown up right here in Serenity and been claimed by her wolfen mate.
A one true mate, who could help the decimated shiften population by bringing love and passion back into their lives. By bearing their children and re-introducing a lineage and force that might finally stop Khain in his tracks. A lineage that would ensure the shiften would not die out.
Wyatt's burning renqua, not to mention his nearly unstoppable desire to protect this woman, to claim her, told him even more.
Sexy, fiery, amazing Bryony just might be his one true mate.
3
The young wolf jogging along behind Wyatt as he entered the police station made him want to swat the kid away, like he was a fly. Mac had peeled off earlier, muttering something about needing to call his mate, Rogue. This kid, who was a rookie cop here in the all-wolven police department of Serenity, had attached himself like a barnacle to Wyatt a month earlier when he first moved back to town. Word of Wyatt's stellar record back at his old department had preceded him here, especially his feat saving that little boy from drowning in the local river late last summer after a huge storm had swelled the river over its banks and caught the boy unawares a few miles downstream where he was fishing with his family.
Damn, he did so-called hero shit like that because he was supposed to save lives. Not because he wanted a worshipful little wolfen dogging his every step.
“Did your paperwork come through yet, Wyatt? I bet you'll be starting any day now. Sure hope we can be patrol cops together.” The kid was all animation as Wyatt strode down the hallway to his cousin's office. “I'm fast, and I pay attention, and my partner now gave me a good commendation during the last evaluation period.”
Wyatt grunted something noncommittal and walked faster. He was barely past the rookie stage himself, having completed his grueling first years of service back in Ohio. He'd gotten restless there, though, and when time came for him to move up in the ranks he'd decided to come back to the town that had been his home until he was seventeen. He'd always liked Serenity, and he still had family here. His dad didn't come back, of course. He sometimes told Wyatt that he didn't think it would hurt that bad anymore, but he didn't want to deal with it. No, his dad was settled into a quiet, safe existence back in Ohio, and had no desire to change things.
Wyatt was the one who needed to change. He needed the change of going back even more to his roots. He never blamed his father, he thought as he rounded the corner with the rookie still hot on his heels, for having uprooted him from his life in Serenity and plopping them down in Ohio. He met new kids, made new friends, got good experience as a cop there.
But he had to admit, being back in Serenity felt damned good. It felt like coming home again, in more ways than one.
Especially seeing Bryony again. That had been an enormous shock. He would have recognized her anywhere, even though the last time he'd seen her she'd barely been into her teens and she was all woman now. But even as a girl of thirteen she'd hinted at the stunning woman she would become, and he'd thought of her now and again over the years since they'd been separated, wondering how she was doing. He never really thought he would see her again until last week, when he'd been out on his daily training run along the river walk and almost literally ran right into her jogging the opposite direction on the same path.
He'd breathed an unbelieving, "Bryony?" when he saw her. It made her stop short and cock her head at him as she tried to place him. Just as he'd been about to remind her of who he was, a huge smile of recognition had filled her face, making it shine like all the light of the sun resided within her.
And just like that, he was a goner. Hook, line, and sinker, he wanted nothing more than to see that smile again every day of his life, preferably because he was the one to put it on her face. That was even before the bombshell possibility that had been dropped into his life an hour earlier. The possibility that she was one of the small, practically sacred group of one true mates who had slowly been appearing, just as promised by the prophecy.
The words of the prophecy drifted through his head, etched there as if in stone. He and pretty much every shiften in the world knew it by heart, though he'd always considered it to be more of a fairytale that would never come true in his lifetime. Wyatt was nothing if not practical-minded and coldly realistic.
In twenty-five years, half-angel, half-human mates will be discovered living am
ong you.
This is how you will rebuild.
Warriors, all, with names like flora.
Save them from themselves, for they will not know their foreordination.
They will not be bound by shiften law, but their destinies entwine so strongly with their fated mates, that any not mated by their 30th year will be moonstruck. Those who are lost may be dangerous.
A pledged female will have free will that shiften know not. Never forget this or it will cause grave trouble.
Her body may respond to any, until she is mated in a ceremony of her choosing, then she will acknowledge only one male, as he becomes her one true mate, and she, his one true mate. He shall be sworn to her in her life’s purpose, to rebuild the shiften race, so that they may fight the evil Matchitehew and protect the humans from him, until the day he draws his last breath.
As it turned out, one true mates were definitely real. It wasn't a certainty that Bryony was one of them, although Mac seemed pretty sure of it. After Bryony had declared both Wyatt and Mac to be nuts, told Wyatt in no uncertain terms that no, she was not remotely interested in having dinner with a classless throwback to the stone age, and had marched smartly away down the path with the human male scuttling along behind her as if he was afraid Wyatt would follow and bite him, Wyatt and Mac had continued their own run, Mac almost dragging Wyatt along at first.
“Let her go for now,” he'd said with the kind of wisdom possessed only by a wolf with a mate. “She's perfectly safe. No one's gotten a whiff of Khain in a while now.”
“Yeah,” Wyatt had grunted in return, his entire body buzzing with the need to run after her and grab her. He'd instead decided being crazy twice in one day wasn't too smart, and forced himself to keep running with Mac.
Mac was kind of a surly, grumpy bastard at times, which actually made him a great running partner. They didn't talk much during runs, just pushed each other hard, thereby ensuring they got their training time in. The burst of words during this run had been welcome, though, as they mulled over the possibilities.