The Enchanted: Council of Seven Shifter Romance Collection

by Juniper Hart

  He could feel a heat in the back of his neck, like eyes were boring a hole into him when he was not looking. The feeling made him much more protective of Elle, whom he tried to subtly warn, but she had laughed him off in her naïve, unsuspecting way.

  “Oh, Dane. While you are a wonderful protector, I took damn good care of myself before you came along. Don’t you worry about me. Anyway, who could possibly be watching us? Vern is locked away, and you’re an environmentalist.” Her confidence did not alleviate his concern.

  What recourse do the Enchanted have if they are endangered? he found himself wondering, but he never asked the question aloud. He didn’t want to worry Elle any more than necessary, particularly if he wasn’t sure he was being paranoid.

  As Dane closed the drapes at the bay window in the living room, he peered into the night, willing whatever it was to come out and face him.

  I know you are out there. Come and get me. I am prepared for you…whoever you might be.

  “Twelve grand? What the hell, Deacon?” Sergeant Averson was incensed. “How did you get that in debt that quickly?”

  “Sorry, sarge, drug dealing wasn’t really on my resume,” Aaron retorted and immediately checked his tone under Averson’s angry glare. They were seated in a low-end restaurant in Boston. There were only a few blue-collar types in their midst, but Averson drew in furiously.

  “Lower your goddamn voice, and you damn well better get more experience, because I can’t justify forking out thousands of dollars every two weeks. Haven’t you ever done sales before? Before the product leaves your hand, you take the cash. It’s really simple.”

  Is it, you condescending asshole? Aaron thought. Because selling smack to desperate junkies is exactly like unloading a pair of Levis, right? He forced a smile onto his face.

  “I will try to remember that,” he said. “I worked at Burger King, myself. Never really had a flair for retail.”

  Grumbling, Averson handed him an envelope stuffed with cash under the table, glancing around to ensure he hadn’t been seen. Content, he allowed Aaron to take the wad, which he did eagerly, stuffing it into his jeans’ front pocket. The white paper barely fit, and Aaron shifted uncomfortably to arrange for it to sit.

  “How’s it going, Deacon? Any progress yet?”

  “You would be the first to know if there was, sarge,” Aaron replied, smiling smartly. As much as he realized that it was not Averson’s fault he was on that particular job, he could not help feeling animosity toward the man. Perhaps it was his arrogance, but Aaron always felt the urge to use sarcasm in his boss’ presence.

  “You’re not touching the stuff, are you, Deacon?” the sergeant asked warily. Aaron was both surprised and insulted by the question.

  “Of course not!” he answered indignantly. “Why would you ask that?”

  Averson sighed and leaned back against the worn vinyl booth. “Because it’s my job. You’re a little bit of a surly shit, and I can’t tell if it’s part of your personality or if it’s because you’re high. You wouldn’t be the first or the last operative to get sucked into the lifestyle. It’s easy when the job is so depressing. Just watch out for the temptation.”

  As soon as the word “temptation” left his superior’s lips, Aaron thought of the luscious prostitute whom he had almost ravished back at his apartment.

  It had been a blessing that Demir had called when he had. He’d had no business bringing that woman home with him. What the hell had gotten into him?

  Aaron had no answer, only regret; deep, mournful regret that he had not gotten into her. He had ushered her out of his apartment and weakly bid her goodbye while she had simply looked at him with wide, intelligent eyes, unspeaking. He had felt a strange sense of loss when he had jumped in his car and driven away.

  He tried to tell himself, optimistically, that she lived in the building, and he would see her again. But he realized he had not even thought to ask her in which apartment she lived. He had this forlorn sense, like he had missed out on spending time with his soulmate.

  Your soulmate? Are you flipping insane? You really should have sex more regularly if this is what happens when you see a beautiful woman. You better stay the hell away from that girl. Berlin. I really like that name. It’s obviously a fake name, but still, I like it. I wonder why she chose—wow, you need to stop thinking about her. Go home and take a cold shower and then call Demir and arrange to pay him his money. Whatever you do, stay away from that girl!

  “Thanks for the money and the advice, sarge,” Aaron said brightly, although he was mentally flipping off his superior.

  “Hey, Deacon, I know this wasn’t what you wanted to be doing, but you’re stuck here now, so keep your head on straight, okay? I know it’s not always easy, but try to keep your eye on the prize. There is an end in sight, and if you play your cards right, the end will save a lot of people a lot of pain.”

  “Sure,” Aaron agreed, rising to his feet, resisting the urge to physically give Averson the finger. It would be worth it, just to see the expression on his face. He contained the desire behind his phony grin. He took a last sip of coffee before walking out of the diner. As he turned the corner toward his car, he almost tripped over a homeless man on the sidewalk.

  “Hey, sorry, man,” Aaron said, sidestepping the scruffy stranger. The man peered up at him, and Aaron was suddenly drowning in a sense of déjà vu as he stared into a set of shiny emerald eyes.

  The hobo shifted his eyes back down, pulling his hat over his ears and muttering something which sounded remarkably like cursing. Guiltily, Aaron reached into his jeans and withdrew a five-dollar bill, tossing it into the paper cup in front of him. The bum did not bother to speak, and Aaron walked away, a sense of unease tickling his stomach.

  Aaron opened the door to his apartment, pulling the cash that Averson had given him from his pocket. To his shock, Berlin was sitting in the beanbag chair.

  Flabbergasted, Aaron looked at the doorway, trying to remember if he had indeed locked his door, quickly returning the envelope to the pocket in his jeans. He turned back to Berlin, his russet eyes wide.

  “Hello,” Berlin greeted him.

  “Wh-what are you doing in here?” he demanded. He knew he should be angry, but he was excited by her.

  She broke into my apartment. A drug addict prostitute broke into my apartment… and you are aroused!

  “You are angry,” she announced, reading the expression on his face.

  “Uh, you broke into my house, so, yeah. You can go,” he snapped, but there wasn’t nearly enough conviction in his voice.

  “Go?”

  “Yes, you can go,” he insisted, feeling flustered under her gaze. She began to laugh, her fine eyebrows raised in amusement. “What is so funny?” Aaron demanded, furiously.

  She is having a ball at my expense. I must be hilarious to her. Just get her out of here before she sees you cry. Or maybe that’s what she wants?

  “Go where?” she asked after her tinkling giggles subsided.

  “I don’t know! You said you live in the building. Go home. I don’t care, just go!

  “I do live in the building,” she drawled slowly.

  “Great. Go home then.”

  “I am home.”

  “What?”

  “This is where I am staying. This is my home,” Berlin answered, crossing her ankles casually and cocking her head to stare at him, the smile never leaving her heart shaped mouth. He stared at her as if she was insane, but he saw that she was serious. It was Aaron’s turn to laugh. Watching her pensive face, though, he suddenly realized that he wanted her to stay.

  “You want to live here? In my apartment?”

  Berlin nodded, tucking her long, lovely legs under her buttocks. She was constantly moving her body, as if she did not know what position to assume. “Yes.”

  “But… why?”

  She shrugged and smiled. Somehow, it didn’t quite meet her eyes.

  “Berlin, do you know why I have contacted you?” His
Highness asked as she connected to him through metaphysics.

  “No, Your Highness.” Berlin had her suspicions, but she did not like to assume without facts.

  “One of us has been reclaimed.”

  Then her suspicions were correct. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “This goes against the natural laws, as you know.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Berlin, you must find him and bring him back at all costs.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “He has lost his way.”

  “I will help him regain his sense of direction, Your Highness.”

  “Choose your team. I will brief them personally.”

  While Berlin had been flattered at being handpicked by His Highness, she also recognized the danger which lay ahead. Nothing like this had ever happened before, and she knew what she might uncover in the process, but she was prepared for the worst.

  Although her crew consisted of the strongest, most ruthless soldiers available, Berlin was not convinced they could handle the task ahead. They were adept, and she was confident they would do the job they had been ordered to do, but beyond that, they lacked the intelligence she possessed.

  As always, the fate of this mission will rest on my cunning. I must not fail His Highness. I will find his son and bring him home, she thought.

  Berlin watched Aaron fry eggs on the range in his galley kitchen, and she idly wondered why she had approached him of all the others she had seen that day.

  She had been standing in the parking lot for three hours, carefully examining the mortals who passed. She had been propositioned, molested, and spat upon as she lounged against the red brick building, but she had remained unperturbed. There had been dozens of people to choose from, any of them easy targets, but she had dismissed one after another, expecting someone better would come along. Specifically, she did not know what was taking her so long to choose. In the past, she had simply picked the first native she would see and tie herself to it.

  Then Aaron had arrived in his black Acura. She did not even consider her actions; her skinny heels were walking, and she was knocking on his window before she knew where she was going.

  He looks like he would be the easiest to kill, she decided, pushing the question from her mind. It was an unlikely theory, as Berlin was hardly one to shy away from a challenge. It wouldn’t be a deciding factor for her. She would not have chosen a mate based on her ability to terminate it. It was simply easier to accept than what had initially filtered into her head; she was drawn to him for some unknown reason, particularly when she saw that the being was a demon.

  No, something else had drawn her to him, something she didn’t understand, but she didn’t question it. Berlin had other things to worry about.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” Aaron said, laying a plate before her.

  “Oh, yes!” she confirmed. He smiled warmly at her, and Berlin felt an unfamiliar pang as she caught his eye. He was genuinely entranced by her, and while this was commonplace among males, there was something about the way he looked at her which made Berlin feel warm inside, something she had never felt before when courting the enemy. He seemed to look directly into her soul with those big, haunted eyes.

  He does not seem like a bad being. I do not sense malice or violence in his personality.

  She reminded herself that his disposition had nothing to do with the task at hand. Berlin shook her head at the onset of confusion she was feeling. She peered again at the man and forced her mind to focus on her mission.

  That is not my decision to make. His Highness has already spoken. His Highness wants his son, and I am commissioned to find him. It’s a pity—I may feel some regret when I am ordered to kill this one.

  17

  Berlin slipped into Aaron’s life quietly, as if she had always been there.

  In a mere day, she had already become comfortable, and he was shocked to discover that he was giddy to have her there. He was sure that, under any other circumstance, he would have been outraged by the intrusion, especially given the delicate nature of his job, but she was not intrusive and often quietly sat in the beanbag chair, studying him or staring out the window into nothingness. He was taken by her manner, and a strange calm seemed to overcome him when he was in her presence. She did not speak a great deal, but even in silence, they seemed to have reached an easy rapport.

  “Hey, who’s the sexy blonde staying at your place?” Josh asked him the next as they sat in the vacant boarding house.

  The abandoned building had become a pseudo headquarters for Aaron to set up shop, and all the local addicts seemed to know to find him there. It was wired with recording devices and cameras, so Aaron himself was bugged. Josh was floating in and out of reality as the effects of the heroin kicked into his bloodstream, his voice seeming to rise and fall in harmony to the sensations in his body. Aaron felt himself tense up instantly at the mention of Berlin.

  “How do you know about her?” he asked sharply. Josh shrugged his shoulders.

  “I went by your place looking for you this morning, and this hot bitch in a miniskirt answered the door. I didn’t know you paid for it, Dame.”

  Aaron resisted the urge to backhand the weasel-faced druggie at his side. He must have shown up just after I left. Shit, I hope he didn’t freak her out. He vowed to call her later and make sure Josh had behaved himself. Josh was a slimy creature, leering and suggestive and apt to disturb the most confident of women.

  Kelly, the brunette who had clung to him like a lost puppy since his arrival, looked wounded at the mention of another woman, especially one staying in his home.

  “You have a bitch living with you?” she whined. “You never even let me come into your apartment, Dame.”

  “That blonde is way hotter than you,” Josh replied, and Kelly scowled, reaching out to slap him, but he ducked out of the way, laughing. “I’d still tap you, Kelly. Oh, wait, I already have!” Josh chortled. Suddenly, his face lost its humor and turned to stone. Aaron followed his gaze toward the door, where Phil stumbled in the door.

  “Oh, hey! There you are, Damien,” he slurred. “Thanks for taking me to the hospital, man.”

  “How are you feeling, Phil?” Aaron asked, concern in his voice. It was clear that Phil was not well.

  “I need a fix.”

  Aaron resisted the urge to scream out at the lumbering man.

  “Shouldn’t you be at home resting, Phil?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. Phil glowered, and Aaron instantly saw that the man was suffering. His hands were vibrating where he stood, and his face was clammy.

  “Are you a doctor, Damien? No. Just hook me up.”

  A flash of anger jolted through Aaron, and he nodded, reaching into the pocket of his jeans. The envelope containing Demir’s money fell to the floor, sending hundred-dollar bills floating into the air. Everyone in the ruined shack seemed to freeze as their eyes hungrily took in the sight.

  Like lions on the prowl, they began to circle the cash. Aaron’s voice was like whiplash.

  “If any of you bastards touch one bill, I will end your life.” But as he spoke, he was painfully aware that he was unarmed. He had spent the night with Berlin’s legs wrapped around his neck, and when he had woken after very little sleep, his only thought was that he had to pay Demir.

  He had left his ankle holster in the bedside table next to a sleeping Berlin. If he hadn’t spent breakfast pouring over the delicate lines of her face, he probably would have remembered to grab it before leaving the apartment, but the woman had a dreamlike hold over him. Still, he maintained his furious expression, hoping that his eyes emitted ice, and he watched the group slink back, allowing him to retrieve the fallen money.

  He stuffed the bills into his pocket hastily and tossed a baggie at Phil. The huge man eagerly reached for the package, but Aaron put a foot on it before clumsy, shaking hands could pick it up.

  “Money,” he demanded. “Now.” Phil stopped, his brow furrowed in confusion and
anger.

  “I just got out of the hospital,” he moaned. “I haven’t been able to work.” Beads of sweat were appearing on his forehead, and Aaron felt sick to his stomach watching the junky. “I’ll pay you tomorrow,” he promised, but Aaron shook his head, stooping to pick up the product.

  “No. You already owe me eight hundred bucks. I can’t front you anymore.”

  “Come on, Dame!” Phil cried, his shaking hands reaching pleadingly toward the heroin. “I’m good for it!”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Aaron replied smoothly. Inside, he was wracked with shame. “I don’t think you’ve ever given me a dime.”

  How is this legal? Causing this level of suffering is cruel and unusual punishment. It is unconstitutional. I can’t do this! But you have to; it’s your job. And starting right now, you need to lay down the law with these animals.

  Phil looked as if he were about to lunge at Aaron, but he was prepared for an attack. He braced himself, expecting a blow. Before Phil could react, the front door opened again. Aaron blinked at the sudden burst of fall sunlight and watched a tall, pale man walk inside. His flaxen hair seemed afire with gold, and his eyes were a stunning emerald green, almost completely translucent. Aaron was again struck with an overpowering sense of déjà vu.

  I know this man, he thought. I have seen him somewhere before. He could not recall from where he recognized the slim outsider, though.

  “Hello. I would like a fix,” the man said conversationally, as if he was ordering a coffee at Starbucks. Kelly, Josh, Phil, and Aaron tensed up at his flippant words, but everyone half-smiled, like it was a joke.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” Josh snapped. “Get the hell out of here before we beat you.” He lunged aggressively toward the newcomer, but the attractive blond seemed unperturbed by the threat and instead crossed further into the front room. He gracefully sat on the floor and leaned back on his hands.

  “I understand this is the place to find heroin,” he tried again. “I would like to arrange for an amount of heroin.”