Lost Little Wolf

by N. K. Vir

  Lost Little Wolf

  By N.K. Vir

  Dedicated to the man who has been my steadfast angel my entire life; my father Bruce.

  Love you Pop.

  Chapter One

  Juggling Fire

  He was doing it…

  Again…

  He barely left her alone these days. If he wasn’t asking her a stream of never ending questions he was practicing conjuring some very dangerous magick. The series of scorch marks that marred the walls attested to how much he actually did practice.

  At least he had gotten better, she silently reminded herself.

  Currently he was spinning in circles on a barstool he had kidnapped from upstairs juggling four tiny balls of blue fire; for an earth witch he was overly enamored with fire. He had recently discovered how to make the fire change colors; which added great ambiance to the fire pit in the backyard but inside, surrounded by her precious books…She had taken to keeping a fire extinguisher handy.

  His constant presence left her feeling on edge; like danger wasn’t in the past; like it was out there silently stalking them. Yesterday he had left her alone for most of the day for the first time in nearly a month. She understood he still had nightmares about aura vampires and deadly friends; but she needed every spare moment she could piece together to dig into the world she had been thrown into. There was so much more to the magickal world then cookie cutter witches, Weres and vampires. She had stumbled across two books in particular that had captured her attention, and if she was right they both connected to Tanith.

  Tanith was an unusual shifter with no memories of who she was; she had also tried to kill her recently.

  A few weeks ago Daisy had come forward with important information that allowed her to forgive, completely, the savage attack. Tanith had been secretly tortured. Tiny pieces of her aura had been siphoned away by the same rogue vampire that had attacked her; opening up the doors to a world she could not even imagine a month ago. The silent attack on Tanith had triggered her to attack instead of defend. They all still had scars from that night but Tanith carried the most damage. Not only was she physically damaged she had become emotional broken as well. Gone was the drama queen she had first met. In her place was a quiet soul who had become fiercely protective over their small group; often replacing Kieran’s ever watchful presence. Even yesterday, when she thought she was truly alone, she had heard Tanith quietly prowling around the property.

  No one believed Kane would easily give up.

  She wanted to forget that night; at least for a little while. It was why she frequently snuck away to the hidden library. She understood why Marian had built this place. She understood why she surrounded herself with books. Readying, studying, researching could make you forget, for a short time, that actually danger did not exist in the real world; it was hidden in the magickal one. She, they, had seen it. They had brushed against the Trinity; a trio of ancient, powerful beings who, were also, immortal. One was apathetic to their existence. One wanted revenge. The last, well, he was family. She was still quietly dealing with the fall out of…everything. Each day was a reminder; and each day she tried to push it all into the past. Kieran’s constant presence made it impossible to forget even for a moment. She was particularly edgy today and wished Kieran would find something else to do than irritate her with his circus sideshow act.

  His constant hovering wasn’t all bad, she reminded herself.

  When he wasn’t playing the silent body guard he was smiling, stealing hot kisses, and whispering dangerous things in her ear. There were days when she couldn’t get her head on straight and he was always there to take her mind away to more delicious distractions. To say the new world she had been baptized into was overwhelming was the understatement of a lifetime.

  A few scant weeks had passed since more than magick had been introduced into her life; she was in love with her best friend. She always had been and it was a dream she never thought would come true. As close as they had always been, neither of them realized that they had both been carrying the same torch.

  There had been many fun nights in bunker under her aunt’s house. Of course those few weeks were a realistic measurement of time. Her internal clock had begun to count days as if they were years and weeks equaled decades. Luckily the passage of time she felt was not on display every time she looked in the mirror. In that aspect, time, had been kind. Her mind felt ancient and her eyes had begun to suffer under the strain of endless hours of reading under the poor fluorescent lighting. Faux diamond studded reading glasses, a strange gift from Daisy, were perched on the tip of her nose; a final accessory to round out the nerdy librarian image she projected during her working hours.

  By day a college librarian…

  By night…

  “How do you read this without falling asleep?” Kieran asked looking over her shoulder. His chin rested on her shoulder; his warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of her neck. He wasn’t trying to be seductive, as one of his hands was still juggling a couple of balls of fire, but she was suddenly finding it very hard to focus on the difficult text that rested on the table beneath her.

  He was definitely doing it again.

  She turned her head to look at him and rolled her eyes in response. She was still getting used to the sudden change in their relationship. The friendly banter was still there, however; there was now more that lingered just below the surface. She swallowed the withering sigh that threatened to escape her lungs and instead settled her best impatient librarian stare upon Kieran before settling her eyes back upon the wobbling characters on the page.

  “I’m warning you Wills,” he whispered against the shell of her ear. She could almost hear the cocky grin in his tone. “That look might work on the little boys up at the college but it has always been a turn on for me.” He had been affected by her glare; but not in the way that she had hoped. She cast another cautious glance over her shoulder; slightly wary and very turned on by his sexy tone.

  A fire lit the deep green of his eyes as a wicked grin curled up the corners of his mouth. She could feel the heat radiating off him and felt the seductive pull it. His curly dirty blonde hair had flopped down over his forehead and she found herself fascinated by a stray curly lock. Her hand drifted up brushing away the errant strands. Her hand lingered, brushing down the sharp angle of his high cheekbones. Her eyes followed behind her fingers, outlining the edge of his face to the rounded point of his square jaw. She felt the pull of his eyes and slow lifted her gaze to meet his. The look he was giving her was hypnotic and deliciously enticing. She found herself being drawn to him. The moment her eyes locked on his her feet began to move; dancing to the rhythm he was setting. They spun her around as both of his hands landed on the table behind her pinning her between the table and the delicious heat that was now pulsating off him in waves. The dangerous combination of the heat from his body and the steamy look in his emerald eyes turned her legs into shaky goo that barely supported her.

  He could do this to her with just a look.

  Whether it was a skill he had recently acquired or something that had always existed between them was a debate that at the moment she did not feel like having with herself.

  Her light sigh echoed of his lips and brushed back against her own. She felt the brush of his arms against her sides as he managed to step even closer towards her. Her arms had found a way to slide up the rigid plane of his torso and wound around his neck; they pulled him down while her legs stretched up. She silenced the whisper that was laced with her name when she gently brushed her lips against his. The soft flick of his tongue pulled a joint groan of satisfaction from them both. The sounds mingled and melded into an erotic melody that inspired her fingers to dig into his curly locks while his arm wound around her wais
t pulling her even closer. The heat of his hands seared the delicate skin on the small of her back and she found herself pressing closer as she tried to crawl into the heat of him.

  His teeth nipped at the curve of her jaw. Her head fell back and her chest heaved in excitement. This thing had always been there; building just below the surface. It was times like this that she could swear she could smell the fire that burned between them.

  “Have you sent the witch away for clinging to the warmth of your shadow?” questioned an irritatingly familiar voice.

  “He was doing it again,” she muttered as she patted down the last of the embers that had singed the corner of her book. This time had almost required the fire extinguisher. This book was precious and tedious.

  Tome was probably the appropriate word for what he had been studying. The pages themselves were plain but ancient. It was the characters that were valuable, cryptic; a mystery that she had spent the past few days trying to solve. The main body of text was written in Ogham, a long dead Celtic character based script that was similar to Nordic runes. The secretive druids refused to record their history, their magick, believing that only the worthy should be privy to their secrets. Their history was passed onto the next generation orally; and only after the initiate had proven themselves worthy. Their history and traditions had died with them. All of their well-kept secrets had been lost to conquering armies and time. This hand bound manuscript was possibly the only record of a portion of their secrets. Kieran had almost destroyed a priceless piece of magickal history.

  “There is a reason the Sinclair Witch and the Historian have never engaged in a romantic liaison in the past,” he informed her. The bored monotone timber of his voice irritated her. Adam was being intentionally cryptic; as always.

  “Keep Kieran close and protect Daisy,” she repeated her mantra like it would shut him up.

  She did not need to look over her shoulder to see his response. The perfect image of him was seared into her brain. His tall, lean physique would be cradled in the softest fabrics that were hand stitched to drape perfectly around his exquisite form. The colors would be darkly dyed to bring out the slight sun-kissed glow of his skin while highlighting the blue-black sheen of his thousand dollar haircut. His well sculpted, ageless, features would be molded into the tiniest expression of surprised humor while barely hiding his disdain for her friends.

  Yes, her father was beautiful, cultured, rich, powerful, immortal and only bearably tolerable. He had one thing in common with nearly every human parent on Earth. He had the uncanny ability to pop up when he was least needed and never expected; while absolutely unwanted parental advice flowed from his lips.

  “Ah,” he sarcastically exhaled, “Marian’s final piece of advice.”

  Something in his tone irritated her more than usual. “Adam,” she snapped. “You have been asked on numerous occasions to not ‘pop’ in whenever the mood strikes.”

  She had chosen her words, even her tone, carefully. What she had really wanted to say would not have been polite to the ears of a salty pirate, let alone a demigod with a fickle temper. Father or not she had learned, quickly, that no member of the Trinity bore insult well. She stole a quick glance over her shoulder.

  “You wound me daughter,” he replied feigning emotional injury. He closed the distance between them quickly and peered over her shoulder as she tamped down the last of the still burning embers. ‘’At least your education is making strides; even if your manners are still lacking polish.”

  Words escaped her and she settled for a snort in reply before turning her attention back to the singed tome she had been studying. She still felt uncomfortable around Adam. She may be genetically related to him, that was still something she was coming to terms with, but he was still the most powerful being on the planet. His thoughts could easily become reality; luckily he was arrogant enough not to bother them more often. He only came for uninvited visits when the boredom became too great.

  “Ogham?” he questioned sounding surprised. “Any particular reason why?” Since becoming initiated by the Trinity as the Historian languages suddenly came with ease; but she was finding this particular text difficult to read. Not being able to easily read the tome only made her want to crack the ancient written language more.

  She shrugged her shoulders. There were literally thousands of books that lined the halls of Marian’s secret underground library but after sifting through a few dozen this book called; no it had sung to her, begging her to crack its dusty spine and decipher the characters humans had not seen in centuries. She was struggling with the arcane language but never once had she felt frustrated. There was secret hidden between the hand-stretched leather covers; a secret that was begging to be exposed.

  Adam’s sudden silence drew her attention away from the puzzle as she could almost hear his mind working. It piqued her interest. “Why are you here Adam?” she asked slamming the book shut startling him outside of his own thoughts.

  His eyes flicked from the blackened book to her face and then back to the book. “You are clever Rosemary,” he whispered.

  His strange and sudden compliment unnerved her and he knew it. He shot a devious smile at her that displayed his heart stopping dimples and lit the fire behind his amber colored eyes. It was times like these that she understood why her mother had fallen in love with him. When he smiled at her like that she could almost forgive him for using her name given name, a name she despised. She allowed herself a moment to bask in the warmth of his praise before steering him back to answering the question he had avoided.

  “Adam why are you here?”

  “I will tell you but you are not going to be pleased,” he warned. “Please remember I am but a messenger.”

  Chapter Two

  The King of Wolves Makes a House Call

  “You were doing it again, weren’t you?” Were the first words out of Daisy’s mouth the moment he entered the kitchen.

  He ignored the question. He could lie, he could tell the truth it didn’t matter what he said because he had been doing it again. There had been a time when he had believed that if only he could bring her into his world, if only he could drop that one last curtain that hid who he really was, that things between them would be perfect. Now, with all that accomplished, everything was much more complicated than he ever expected. He was scared, constantly, that was why he did ‘it’ again. Whenever she was out of sight, whenever she was more than a few steps away from him, hell, whenever he couldn’t…touch her, he was worried; terrified that something would happen to her. It was almost as if he could feel trouble coming.

  “What did you burn this time?” Daisy asked not bothering to look up from the pot she was slowly stirring.

  He sighed heavily as he sank down onto the kitchen chair. What had he done this time? He’d lost control. It was easy to do when she was wrapped around him. He’d been better lately. It had been only a week since he’d lit something on fire.

  “I might have, accidently,” he quickly added louder, “Lit the corners of a book on fire.”

  Daisy did not gasp in horror, instead she walked calmly over to the small chalkboard next to the front door, erased the number ‘8’ that had hastily been written and replaced it with a zero. Then Daisy did what she did best; she laughed. Not a snicker, not a stifled giggle, but a full belly laugh. It was infectious. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch as her bought of laughter continued to roll over him in relaxing waves, erasing the weight of foreboding he’d been lugging around all day.

  “What book?” she managed between breaths.

  He answered her with a look that managed to force her in half with an almost painful looking peal of laughter. It should have made him feel better, and in truth it almost did. He allowed her a moment of fun, at his expense; he just hoped that when she was done she might have some useful advice on how he could make amends for the damage he had caused.

  “Jesus Kieran,” she managed after her laughter had died down and she had wiped the tear
s from her eyes. “The one that looks like a chicken scratched on paper with its feet dipped in ink?” she pressed sobering.

  He nodded his head.

  “The book she’s been spending a week studying day and night studying?” She asked piling on the guilt.

  Again he nodded his head.

  Daisy slowly sat down across from him ignoring the pot she had on the stove. Lately she had taken up the hobby of cooking. She wasn’t any good at it and instead of being forced to eat another nearly inedible meal he decided not to remind her about the stove. That was one worry off his plate. At least his stomach would be safe tonight.

  “Any advice on how to get back on her good side?” he asked trying to sound hopeful.

  “Did you destroy the book?” she asked trying not to cringe when she asked the important question. She arched her magenta dyed brows at him as she waited for a response. Daisy had recently abandoned changing the color of her corkscrew curls and instead had begun dying her eyebrows. One of these days all of her hair was going to fall out.

  “No,” he sighed raking a hand through his hair grateful to have some good news to impart. “I just singed the edges.”

  She reached across the table, took his hand in hers and gave it a slight squeeze. “You need to get better control of it Kieran.” His eyes flicked over to the fire still blazing under the pot. Lately he felt like the contents of that pot; simmering, rising up to the boiling point and then bubbling over making a mess.

  “It’s not like there’s somewhere or even someone to practice with or hell even to teach me Daisy!” A buzzing sound began thrumming through his system. He yanked his hand out of her grasp. He could feel the water in his pot threatening to bubble over. His anger was often triggered his magick and the yoga breathing Daisy had taught him was not helping.

  This time it was Daisy’s turn to give him a look. He didn’t know when they had begun to read each other’s minds. He knew what she was thinking just as if she had said it aloud. He shoved away from the table and jumped to his feet and scrambled a few feet away putting some distance between them while willing the buzzing sound in his head to stop. The shocked look on her face did not surprise him. He had done it again. He felt sure of it. He had pulled a thought from someone’s mind.