by Michele Hauf
“What is it?” Valor walked up behind him and gasped at the sight of what he held. “That’s a lot of claws. And big. Sure they’re not bear claws?”
“No,” Kelyn said with a swallow. “These are werewolf.” It pained him to think that his brothers had gone up against Denton. Yet they had survived. Thank the gods for that. “Take one,” he said quickly.
Valor reached in and pulled out a black claw that was as thick as her finger and twice as long. Then she took another. “Two to be safe.” And another. “And three—”
“No.” He took one of the claws and tossed it back in the jar, wincing at the horrible vibrations of pain he felt with the quick connection. “We won’t be greedy. Two is more than enough.”
“Fine.” She shoved the claws in her jacket pocket. “Let’s you, me and Doogie Howser get the hell out of Dodge.”
“Doogie Howser?”
She shrugged. “TV doctors. I got a thing for them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to. Let’s skedaddle.”
They strode toward the open door. When they were but four feet away, the door suddenly slammed shut in a cloud of dust. And the door edges began to glow orange.
* * *
“The peller has an inner protection spell activated,” Valor said.
She spread her hands out before her, testing the vibrations that wavered out from the door. Turning and clasping the moonstone that hung around her neck, she sensed the spell stretching along the walls and the ceiling, enclosing them completely. She didn’t judge it to be anything particularly dark, more just menacing.
Kelyn spread out his hands as if to read his surroundings as she had done. She wasn’t sure how much faery magic he still possessed, if any. The sigils were missing from his wrists and in their place, silvery scars served as a cruel reminder. That had to suck.
“You got some magic to get us out of here?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
“I do love a decisive woman.”
“Aw, you love me?” Valor flicked him a flirty wink over her shoulder. “Find me something silver, will you?”
“Okay. There’s gotta be silver in a werewolf hunter’s cabin.” Kelyn looked around.
The shuffling Valor suddenly heard, which should have been Kelyn pushing things around on the shelves, sounded—when she thought about it—more like...hooves.
She spun around to face the stuffed deer. Which was no longer inanimate. Its eyes glowed white and its obsidian hoof pawed the dirt floor.
“Kelyn!”
“Found something that looks like a silver arrowhead. Though it’s corroded.” He turned and saw the same thing she did. “No kidding?”
“Toss me the arrow. Or better yet. Can you—”
“Got it!” He lunged for the buck as the beast charged Valor. The faery leaped and landed on the deer’s back, one arm wrapping about its wide, strong neck.
Valor dropped and rolled across the dirt floor, out of the animal’s charging path. It didn’t slow, bowing its head and aiming its magnificent rack at the closed door. Kelyn stabbed at the beast, landing the arrowhead in its chest as its antlers collided with the door. The protection spell fizzled, bursting out brilliant orange flames from around the door. The steel door blew off the shed, and the deer raced through with Kelyn riding its back.
“Can’t say I’ve seen anything like that before,” Valor muttered as she stood and brushed the dirt off her jeans. “Cool.”
She wandered through the door to find Kelyn standing before a stuffed deer. He tugged the arrowhead out of its chest. The magic that had reanimated the deer had ceased the moment it left the shed.
Valor marched over and smoothed a hand over the stuffed animal’s nose. “No one will believe this.”
“Welcome to my world.” Kelyn tossed the arrowhead in the air and caught it smartly. “Let’s get out of here. Can you fit the door back into the frame?”
“Seriously? After the mess we made in there, you think replacing the door...?”
He did have a way of challenging her right in the witchcraft with his castigating, yet also kinda sexy furrowed brow.
Summoning her air magic, Valor whispered a rising spell and the door lifted and slammed back into the frame. Not at all the gentle fit-back-into-the-door-frame action she had been going for, but... “It’ll do. What are we going to do about that thing?”
He smoothed a palm over the deer’s back. “I like to think Marx will have a hell of a time figuring this one out when he returns.”
“I like your thinking.”
They wandered back to the car at the end of the drive, and after getting in the car Valor tugged out her cell phone. She perused the Delta flight schedule while Kelyn drove out and headed back to Tangle Lake. He was using the GPS on his phone and she knew it drove him buggy. Faeries were natural navigators. Poor guy. But, much as she wanted to, she wouldn’t bring it up or apologize.
A ten-minute cruise down the main highway brought the Firebird to the exit for Tangle Lake. It was late, and not a lot of cars were out and about. Valor didn’t live far from the exit.
“There’s a flight to Australia tomorrow afternoon,” she said. “You know your credit card number?”
“I do. Book the tickets.”
“Sounds like a plan. Flying over an entire ocean is not going to be as fun as tonight was.”
“You’re not much for flying?”
“That’s putting it euphemistically. Okay, give me your number.”
He relayed his number to her while parking before her building. The autoconfirm promised an email soon. When Valor opened the door and stuck out a leg, he grabbed her forearm, stopping her from leaving.
“Thanks for tonight,” he said. “We work well together.”
“That we do. Thanks for trusting me. This spell will work, Kelyn. I promise that.”
He nodded. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow a couple hours before the flight.”
“See you then. Thanks!”
As the Firebird rolled away, Valor had to stop herself from giving a little wave in its wake. Like hey, yeah, that was fun. Just spending time with the guy had been fun. And watching him ride the deer? She had to tell her friends about that one.
With a sigh, she wandered toward her building. The feeling that she should have leaned over and kissed him in thanks for the adventure was strong. A missed opportunity. Generally, she was a take-life-by-the-horns-and-ride-it kind of chick.
She knew why she was skittish around Kelyn. Same reason she’d given up on ever finding love. Men didn’t consider her a woman. She simply wasn’t...
“A real girl,” she said, and followed that with another heart-clenching sigh.
Had she been able to accomplish the spell that night in the Darkwood, would she be singing a different tune now?
Could Kelyn ever see her as a woman?
Because she wanted to kiss him again. No, she needed to.
Chapter 6
Valor sat up on the couch, blew the tangled hair from her face and...dropped back into a dead sleep, falling forward to land her face against the hardwood arm. That woke her up again. And this time she heard the pounding and insistent knock at her door.
“Valor?”
Sounded like Kelyn’s voice. Why was he at her home...she glanced toward the windows...in the middle of the night?
Her eyelids fluttered and she dropped into sleep again, this time her head falling to the side and hitting the soft leather back of the couch.
A rude meow sounded and she shook out of sleep. “No. Need to sleep. Have...flight...in morning, Mooshi.”
“Valor, are you ready to go?” Kelyn called from the other side of her front door.
“Go?” She glanced toward the kitchen, seeing
beyond the row of beer bottles and that one empty vodka bottle—curse her weakness for the hard stuff—where the time flashed in bright green LEDs on the stove. “Marcus Welby! It’s time!”
She dragged herself off the couch and scrambled to the door, opening it. Kelyn breezed in.
“We’ve got to go,” he said. “The flight leaves in an hour and a half, and it takes forty-five minutes to get to the airport. What the—are you not ready to go?” He reached for her head, and though Valor dodged his touch, he managed to snag his fingers in her hair. And that was possible because of the tangles. “You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday. And...you smell like a brewery.”
“Yeah? Well, I do work at a brewery, smart guy.”
“Not yesterday.”
“Fine! I couldn’t sleep,” she muttered, her tongue still heavy with sleep and the remnants of a good drunk. Hell, the drunk was still with her, bless the goddess. Because it was a necessity. “I hate flying, and I’m always nervous the night before. I haven’t slept. And yet...I think I must have fallen asleep, like, half an hour ago. I am so wasted.”
He caught her in his arms and held her upright. “You drink to relax?”
“Beer usually calms me. Vodka seemed to take off the edge.”
“Couldn’t you have cast a spell or something? Valor, we’ve got to go. You have your bags packed?”
She gestured toward the door, where one small carry-on backpack waited. She’d had the forethought to pack after Kelyn dropped her off last night when she wasn’t so nervous. Now all she wanted to do was sleep.
“The flight is long. You can sleep when we get seated.” He bent and suddenly Valor found herself flung over the man’s broad and reassuringly strong shoulder.
A humiliating position, and yet... Nah, she could go with it. Especially since...
Kelyn chuckled at the witch’s sudden snores. He grabbed her backpack and with a glance to the cat decided Valor had to have made arrangements for its care in her absence. Probably a neighbor would stop by. He slid the door closed behind him.
What a way to begin an adventure.
* * *
Kelyn accepted an offer of ice water from the stewardess and refused another white wine for his guest. They’d been in the air four hours, and Valor could snore with the best of them. She did not do sleep deprivation well. But if she had been nervous about flying, then it was good she was sleeping now. She’d managed to lift her head once while they were waiting to board, smiled at him and then her head had hit his shoulder.
And he was enjoying it. Because right now her head lay on his shoulder, and her hand had strayed to his chest. One finger touched his skin at the base of his neck. It was weirdly intimate, and yet not. She was just a friend. And he did mark her as a sort-of friend, not an enemy. They were working toward a common goal.
But he was seriously beginning to feel the old attraction to her again. Not that it had ever gone away. Losing his wings had honestly reduced his interest in her. But the chick was not like the rest of the women he had known or lusted after. She wasn’t fussy or high maintenance. He couldn’t imagine any woman he’d known allowing him to carry her into the airport, hair uncombed and T-shirt wrinkled, after a sleepless night on a bender.
Valor Hearst didn’t do the makeup and hair thing. Her long straight hair had a deep violet tint to it. Had to be dyed. He wasn’t sure if witches could have a natural color like that. His sister, Daisy Blu’s, hair was pink, but that was natural from her faery heritage.
Valor dressed as if she was ready to hop on a Harley and ride off into the sunset. Everything about her was casual confidence and gotcha smirks. One of the guys.
But the thing that had sealed his attraction to her a few years ago? It had been one night around a bonfire when a bunch of friends had gathered at a city summer festival. Beer and s’mores had been in abundance, as well as lawn darts and cheap sparklers. Valor had been pointed out to him as one of the witches who owned a local brewery. He’d thought she was pretty in that one-of-the-guys kind of way. Because she had an ease around people and wasn’t always fluffing her hair or checking her cell phone for texts from girlfriends. He hadn’t given her too much eye time. Until she’d laughed. It had come out as an abrupt burst of sound and ended with a snort. Ignoring what anyone thought of her and proud to be herself.
Ever since, he’d spent more time looking at her. And wanting to ask her out so he could hear that crazy, obnoxious laugh again. And wondering how she’d be as a kisser. Damn good, now that he knew. But he wished it hadn’t been because she’d thought she was dying that he’d gotten that kiss.
And now he still couldn’t stop looking at her and allowing his fantasies to take hold.
Valor’s lips were pale pink and plump. And they were so close to him. He wanted to touch them, but he held the water glass in one hand and his other arm was wedged beneath her sleeping body. So he’d take her in for as long as he could. And enjoy this quiet moment with a woman he wasn’t sure was safe to lose anything more to. He’d given up his wings for her.
What more did he have left, besides his heart?
* * *
Valor woke without opening her eyes. Her body took a survey of her immediate surroundings—hard plastic seat and walls, tight confines, stale air, compressed sensation going on in her sinuses—and she determined she was on a plane. Not on the ground.
Mercy.
The thing about flying was that it was unnatural. Yes, even for a witch. Witches didn’t fly on broomsticks or by their own power. Well, they could do both with the right kind of magic. Air magic. But she’d always avoided considering such study. And the cliché of the broomstick was just that. She preferred her feet to remain on the ground. And even though there had been no other option to get where they were going—a ship would have taken far too long—it was never easy to dispel her nerves.
Fortunately, the alcohol had worked for a while.
Now groggy but feeling rested, she came awake more fully and curled her fingers against the hard warmth beneath her hand. Mmm, that felt great. And her pillow was firm but smelled nice. Like a forest after the rain. Why was that? Weren’t airplanes the least inviting and uncomfortable conveyances in existence?
“You rest well?”
The voice vibrated against her cheek and into her very bones, and Valor realized what exactly was up. She was lying on Kelyn, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. And that warmth under her hand? It was his hard pec. The man had to work out. Seriously.
Such a surprising but welcome bit of reality proved beyond nice. And she didn’t want it to end. But really? This accidental sharing and caring between the two of them was not cool. On a scale of not-coolness, from one to ten, her current position probably topped out at an eight.
Maybe if she didn’t move, he’d think she’d fallen back to sleep?
The smell of roast beef suddenly wafted through the air and Valor realized she was more hungry than embarrassed. So she slowly pushed herself up and met Kelyn’s smiling violet gaze. “Morning.”
“Evening, actually. At least, according to Australian time. But don’t get too excited. We’ve still got another six hours to go.”
“Ah, Meredith Gray!”
“Is she a doctor?”
“Yes, Gray’s Anatomy. She and McDreamy—oh, never mind.” She averted her eyes to the leather cords around his neck. A long, thin white spiral dangled from one of them. Looked like a seashell. On the other was a black ring of stone. She tapped it. Six more hours? Could a witch get a break? “Maybe I should go back to sleep.”
“I take it you wish you could sleep through the whole flight? Maybe one more beer would have done the trick?”
She groaned. “Please don’t mention beer. It was the vodka that did it for me. The beer makes me want to...” Pee a very long time. She wouldn’t say that. She and he wer
e not that tight as bros yet.
“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked. “They’re serving now. Might keep your thoughts from...dire things.”
“Yeah, maybe.” She leaned back and slowly took her hand from his chest. “Sorry about that. Lying on you and all.”
“It’s all right. And you didn’t drool that much.”
“I—” She wiped her mouth and hoped to catch his teasing laugh, but he merely shrugged. Perfect. Not. “Really sorry about that one.”
“Valor, your apologies are always superfluous. Now tell the nice stewardess what you’ll have to eat.”
When Valor turned to the flight attendant, she only then realized the luxurious space she sat in. It was still the inside of a tin can, but much more roomy than she’d experienced that one other time she was inside an airplane. They were in first class? Mercy, but she could never afford this ticket. And she did intend to pay the guy back.
“I’ll take the roast beef,” she said to the attendant, who sported a perfect blond coif and a red scarf tied about her neck. Valor refused the offer of alcohol. She’d drunk a whole growler of beer last night. Or this morning. Or whenever. Plus the bottle of vodka. Those two alcohols should not be mixed. Stupid nerves. “And some ginger ale.”
Kelyn asked for the vegetarian plate and more water.
Fifteen minutes later, and after a necessary trip to the bathroom, the meal had served to relax Valor and she settled back to watch Kelyn finish his dairy-free chocolate cake. It didn’t sound appetizing, but it certainly looked lush and moist. He was a vegetarian? Must have been disgusted by her shoveling in the minimal bits of roast beef she’d dug out of the gravy. He’d not said anything, though.
“Why are you so nice?” she asked.
He paused, a forkload of cake suspended before his mouth. With a shrug, he offered, “It’s a Minnesota thing.”
“Sure, but that’s surface. And I’m from Minnesota.” She pointed to her chest. “Not so nice. Mostly. People are always nice to one another, but are they kind nice? Nice is doing so because you think it’s expected of you. Or because your mommy always told you ‘be nice.’ Kind nice is an innate calling to understand others and be accepting of them. That’s you.”