Her Werewolf Hero

by Michele Hauf

  And now there was Kisanthra Lewis, the pretty woman who dozed on the passenger seat beside him, who could stand up to hags and harpies and did not back down from a vampire. Could he welcome Kizzy into his life? For a little while? He had never thought of a woman in terms of spending time with her for months, even years. That he’d like to have her in his life for more than a few nights of sex and companionship was a given. In all his decades he had never met a woman who had given him such a thought. And that was remarkable. If a little unnerving to his established routine of living alone and free.

  Kizzy could follow him across the world as he fulfilled his missions. She, taking photos, and he—well, he wasn’t exactly following orders now, was he?

  Find and finish.

  Eglantine had mentioned it. And in that moment he’d noticed Kizzy’s attention rivet to the witch. With hope, she’d not remember what had been said, and he could move on. Because he hadn’t been ordered to find and finish. Yet. Deactivation was the same process. He wouldn’t fool himself on that. There had to be a way to fulfill the mission and keep Kizzy alive.

  Eglantine had mentioned the soul bringer could take out her heart without killing her. Hmm...

  Once at the motel, he carried a drowsy Kizzy into the room and set her on the bed. She curled into sleep, and he pulled off her shoes and then he got undressed.

  “Thanks,” she whispered as he snuggled next to her. “For everything.”

  She slid her body against his, and he shivered at the heat of her and pulled her close. He slid a hand up under her shirt, caressing a breast and stirring a wanting moan from her.

  Kizzy unbuttoned her jeans and shimmied them down and off. She put a leg over his hip, and with a bend of her hand, directed his cock inside her. He pumped slowly, eyes closed and their mouths touching and then not. Climax wasn’t important. Falling asleep inside her meant the world to him.

  * * *

  The soul bringer couldn’t find that bedamned black familiar. Had it left the area? Something was up. And he didn’t know how to use social media. Those tiny buttons on those tiny devices. Ah!

  He’d thought sending the werewolf’s heart in a box would have lit a fire under the Retriever. Apparently, he needed to try a new tack.

  Time to face his only hope for Nova’s salvation.

  * * *

  Kizzy woke to sunshine and an amazing realization. “Bron!”

  He stood in the bathroom and leaned back from the sink, toothbrush wielded near his mouth. He was naked, and his cock was half-mast. What a teasing image to wake to.

  But her dream! No werewolves this time, only a witch and a promise.

  She scrambled off the bed and into the bathroom. “The witch said the soul bringer can take out a person’s heart without killing them.”

  She clasped her fingers over her heart and nodded encouragingly at him.

  Bron eyed her a few seconds, then shook his head. “Don’t even think about it, Kizzy. You wouldn’t be the same. I’m not sure how, but—”

  “No!” She grabbed his toothbrush and kissed him, getting a peppermint-laced squishy kiss. “Your wife.”

  He swiped his mouth and took the toothbrush from her, rinsing it. Then he leaned a palm on the vanity and eyed her fiercely. Things were going on in his brain. She liked watching him think. Then suddenly, he reached the same conclusion as her.

  “You think?” she asked.

  “It’s possible. It didn’t occur to me...” He looked in the mirror briefly, then grabbed a clean towel from the rack on the wall.

  “She could still be alive. If the soul bringer took out her heart without harming her—”

  He cut her off with an abrupt, “I need to think about this, Kizzy.”

  “Yes, do that.” Sensing the sudden wall he’d put up, she clasped her arms across her chest. He was disturbed by the idea of his wife possibly being alive, she could sense it. “You going to shower?”

  He nodded, but she could tell his mind was deep in thought, and if she invited herself into the shower he probably wouldn’t even notice her. There were far greater things to concern himself with now.

  She kissed him quickly and left him in the bathroom.

  Fear that some strange creature would come knocking on her door was gone. With the witch’s protection spell she could relax. She plopped onto the bed and picked up her camera. She regretted not taking photos last night. What a unique experience. Tea with a witch!

  But elation aside, she had to focus. If the protection spell only lasted twenty-four hours, they had work to do. Like find the soul bringer. She tugged the laptop onto a pillow and opened it up. A search for Blackthorn Regis didn’t bring up anything, save a few references to Regis Philbin. Completely wrong guy.

  She wondered if Bron had access to a secret online network that cataloged paranormal creatures. Wouldn’t that be cool? Surely the Acquisitions place he worked for must have a computer database.

  On the nightstand, his cellphone rang. She eyed the iPhone, knowing she shouldn’t answer. It would go to message. Maybe? Queen of discretion, she was not.

  She grabbed it. The screen simply read Director. Bron had mentioned something about a director. His boss?

  Without thinking, she hit the answer button and said hello and asked to take a message because Bron was busy.

  “Since when does Everhart have a secretary? Who is this?”

  “Kisanthra Lewis.”

  “I see. I thought he had finished that job. Where is he? Why are you answering his personal phone?”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  The bathroom door opened, and Bron strolled out in a mist of steam.

  “I’m sorry I answered your phone.” Kizzy handed it to him. “It was a reflex action. It’s your director.”

  He snatched the phone so rudely she tugged her hand away and clutched it to her chest. Feeling as if he’d just struck her, she filed into the bathroom and closed the door. So she probably shouldn’t have answered his phone. But he didn’t need to be a jerk about it.

  Grabbing a towel for the shower, she muttered to herself, “Give him a break. He just buried his wife’s heart and said goodbye to her, and now there’s a possibility she could be alive.”

  He must be going through hell. She’d cut him some slack.

  After a long, hot shower, she towel dried her hair and slipped into her jeans and a clean T-shirt from the things she’d packed while at the apartment. Bron was not out in the room, but the rental truck was still parked outside the door. He must have gone for a walk or, she hoped, to scavenge for some breakfast at the diner across the parking lot.

  And, yep, there he was, striding toward their room with a food bag in hand.

  “Gotta love that guy. Wolf. Werewolf. Wow. I’m dating a werewolf.”

  Maybe. Or it could just be a fling. Of which, she was okay with a fling. She didn’t need to get serious. And Bron didn’t seem in a position to get serious with anyone, especially with the looming possibility his wife could very well be alive.

  What would a reunion bring about? Would they hug and forgive one another and resume life as a married couple? It had been over a century and a half. Surely, Claire had moved on, as Bron had suspected. Did the law even allow for marriage vows to remain intact after such a long separation? She felt inclined to Google that, but the warm breeze beckoned her to remain in the open doorway.

  Bron spied her waiting and lifted the bag. “Pancakes and sausage.”

  “Great. I’m hungry. You think we can go back to my rental today? Since we’ve got the witch mojo thing going? I’m all about clean sheets and water pressure.”

  “Yes, we should. In fact—” he handed her the bag and patted his pocket for his phone “—I should give Certainly Jones a call. He works in the Archives. Keeps records of anything and everything
paranormal. He’ll be able to tell me what I’m dealing with. Let’s eat, then head into town.”

  Half an hour later they rolled down the main street toward the city center. And Kizzy dared to speak about what had been niggling at her all morning. “I’m sorry about taking that phone call, but your director didn’t seem very happy with me.”

  “It’s unprofessional to allow someone to use my phone. I should have said something to you.”

  “No, it was my fault. It was common courtesy that I should have let it ring through to message. But he said something about finishing the job. And then I remembered Eglantine said something about your mission being find and finish. I thought you said your mission for the Purgatory Heart was find and seize? So I take it that has changed? And if so, are you supposed to finish me?”

  His fingers clenched about the steering wheel, and his jaw pulsed. She wasn’t about to let him clam up this time.

  “Bron?”

  “I was given orders to deactivate the heart,” he hissed abruptly. Nothing else. No eye contact. Attention fixed on the road before them. They crossed the bridge that passed over the Red Lake River.

  “I see.” Kizzy swallowed and drew up her legs before her chest to clasp them tightly. “When are you going to do it? How? Oh, don’t answer that one.”

  “I’m not going to do any such thing.”

  “But you just said—”

  “I promised I would not harm you, Kizzy. And I meant that. Have you so little opinion of my honor that you actually believe I could do such a thing?”

  “Sorry. But if it was an order...?”

  “I’ll have to figure a way around it.”

  “Why not tell your director that you don’t kill?”

  He winced.

  “I see.”

  Because he was not a man who lied easily. And he’d probably had occasion to kill over the years. She’d witnessed as much already. He’d killed the wraith in self-defense, as well as a handful of harpies and vampires. If he had let them live, they could have harmed others. So it had been a good call, right?

  Kizzy pulled up her backpack from the truck floor and hugged it to her chest. She wanted to be home. Even if it wasn’t her actual home, the rental in town felt like someplace safe and familiar.

  And for just a few blessed moments, she would really like to have never heard of werewolves and witches and soul bringers.

  * * *

  Bron followed Kizzy into the apartment, and before she could veer down the hallway and retreat, most likely from him, he pulled her in for a long hug. He wanted her to know he was there for her.

  “You can trust me,” he said as his fingers glided through her soft hair, clutching and caressing. “I don’t want you to fear me.”

  She nodded against his shoulder. He sensed an utter lack of trust in her.

  “Kizzy, I need you to know that I care about you. I’ve never felt this way about a woman before.”

  “Really?” When she looked up to him, a tear glistened in her eye.

  He touched the tear, and it spilled down her cheek. “Did I do that?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.” She chuckled softly and sniffed away another tear. “I think I’ve hit the wall with all things creature and crazy. I really... I need a little time to myself. I want to wash my face and—whatever. Go ahead and use my laptop. Will you give me some time alone?”

  “I will. Do you want me to leave the apartment?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “Just give me an hour to get right with the world, okay?”

  “Do whatever you need to do. I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

  “Thanks.”

  Bron wandered out to the living room and stood before the window. Looking out at the sky, the buildings faded out of his peripheral vision. It wasn’t even noon, but he could see the shadow of the moon in the sky.

  “Tonight,” he whispered. “I’ll need to have sex all evening to keep back my werewolf.”

  It couldn’t have happened at a less opportune time. With a soul bringer after Kizzy’s heart, he had to be on his game. He had named himself her protector, and he would do just that. No one was going to touch her heart.

  But what sort of challenge would a soul bringer present?

  He tugged out his cell phone and scrolled through the contacts until he found Certainly Jones’s number. CJ was a dark witch based in Paris. He headed the Council’s Archives, which was basically a keeper of all paranormal knowledge and the mother branch that headed Acquisitions. Some muttered that Acquisitions was the Archives’s dirty little secret. But the Archives’ contents didn’t simply arrive, waiting to be filed and collated. Someone had to obtain the stuff, by trick or by trade. Oftentimes, more violent methods were employed.

  If CJ didn’t have an answer, he could look it up for Bron. He’d helped him numerous times over the years when Bron went up against creatures about which he had no clue.

  “Everhart,” CJ answered. “Where are you?”

  The dark witch knew Bron was a wanderer and rarely stopped into one of his home bases.

  “The States. Minnesota, actually. Tracking the Purgatory Heart. I’ve found it, but now I’ve got a soul bringer on my ass.”

  CJ whistled lowly. “Tough luck, buddy.”

  “Really? Tell me what I’m dealing with?”

  “First of all, you should know my sister-in-law Libby is engaged to a former soul bringer. He got his soul back a few years ago and is now mortal, but the guy was strong and powerful when he was fully charged. You know they are angels?”

  “I’d heard something about that. Did they Fall?”

  “Not purposefully, but rather they were forced to Fall as a mission to ferry souls. It’s a hell of a job. Ferrying souls to Above or Beneath all day and night. Gotta be boring. Another name for them is psychopomp.”

  “Yes, I’m familiar with that term.”

  “They are emotionless sons of bitches. And usually work a territory. Can twist a man’s head off and toss it aside as if a softball. But that’s only if you piss one off. And like I said, emotionless, so it takes a lot to make one angry. Generally they do their job, ferry souls. They don’t interact with the population, either mortal or paranormal. Not usually. So this one is after you for what reason?”

  “Apparently he wants this heart that will give him access to Purgatory. But I’ve learned he can’t touch the heart, or actually enter Purgatory, so why he wants it is beyond me. I need to know how to fight him and stop him.”

  “Not much you can use against one of them. His original halo, which fell away when he Fell to earth, can be used to restore his soul and make him mortal. But you’ll have a hell of a time locating that. It could be anywhere, and the soul bringer doesn’t usually know where it is. You’d need a professional halo hunter if that’s the route you want to take. My theory is that many halos sank to the bottom of the ocean.”

  “I’m not much for deep-sea diving. Next option?”

  “If you can get your hands on a Sinistari blade, that will probably wound him, slow him down a bit, but not sure about ultimate death. They are equally as powerful as the Fallen.”

  “Interesting. I had my hands on a Sinistari blade a few years ago. And now I think of it, the blade should be in the Archives.”

  “I can take a look for it.”

  “I’d appreciate that, CJ. I’ll text you an address, and you can send it.”

  “Will do. You know this soul bringer’s name?”

  “Blackthorn Regis.”

  CJ’s hiss chilled Bron’s heart. The man had seen many things, had even spent time in Daemonia, one of the most despicable, demon-infested places in existence. To hear his reaction to the soul bringer’s name did not bode well.

  “That’s odd,” CJ finally said. “I’m sure I have re
cord of him hooking up with a mortal sin eater not too long ago.”

  “But I thought you said they were emotionless? Doesn’t a hookup imply romance?” And yet, Eglantine had said much the same.

  “Generally. Let me look into this and get back to you. If he has a mortal girlfriend, that’s his weak spot right there. Means the guy has feelings now.”

  “Perfect. The sooner you can get back to me, the better. He’s close, and he’s made it known he’s willing to kill to get the heart. And Kizzy is an innocent.”

  “Kizzy?”

  “Uh...” Bron shoved a hand over his hair and made a wobbling gesture with his hand, even though CJ couldn’t see it. “She’s the one with the heart. I’m protecting her.”

  “Since when do Retrievers protect? I thought you guys just grabbed the goods and got the hell out of there. Oh. You didn’t know the heart was intact, did you?”

  “That detail was not mentioned when I accepted the assignment. And a guy can’t very well rip the thing out of her chest.”

  “A guy could. Because he has done things like that before.”

  Yeah, so CJ knew him well.

  “You always make the wise decision,” the dark witch encouraged. “Talk soon, man.”

  “Thanks, CJ.”

  * * *

  Oh, yeah. A little time to herself definitely served to improve her mood. The cinnamon-scented oil rising from the nearby diffuser jar served to give Kizzy some clear thoughts. She’d stripped to her underwear and crawled into bed, even though it was afternoon. She wasn’t tired, just confused by the push and pull in her heart.

  It pushed her to run to Bron, arms open and ready, yet it pulled her back at any mention of the weird or violence that may occur because of his job. He was supposed to deactivate her heart. She could imagine only one possible way to do that. And while he’d sworn he would not, it wasn’t every day a girl learned her lover had been assigned to kill her.