Her Werewolf Hero

by Michele Hauf

  Stuff like that only happened in the movies. And in stories.

  Like vampires and witches and angels and...werewolves.

  She sighed and sat up, hugging herself as she gazed out the window. Could she trust him? Did she really have a handle on the situation? When had her life become so much more than a lost boyfriend and the desire to put him in her past?

  This new man in her life was everything Keith had not been. Bron was larger than life. She wanted to follow him across the world. And she did trust him.

  Exhaling, she nodded and said, “I do. He won’t hurt me. I won’t allow it to happen.”

  Having decided that she would take control of her crazy life, she rose and pulled on a T-shirt and jeans. Her man sat out in the living room, likely wondering what the hell was going on in her brain. She needed to reassure him. And the only way she knew how to do that was with food.

  * * *

  Bron picked up his ringing phone to read a text from CJ.

  Sinistari blade is currently dispatched in Rome. Will not have access for days. Sorry. Regis has sin eater girlfriend, Desdenova Fleetwood. Good luck.

  No blade? He’d have to make do.

  He tucked away the phone and turned to smile at Kizzy, who had just called him to the table. An early supper was disguised as breakfast, because she’d only had a few items in the fridge. She set a frying pan with eggs and sausage on a copper trivet, laid out plates and filled glasses with orange juice.

  “Was that important?” she asked.

  “I contacted a dark witch who heads the Council’s Archives. He gave me information about the soul bringer. He may have a weakness that won’t require hard-core weapons to bring him down.”

  She paused from forking a fluffy cloud of eggs into her mouth. “Which is?”

  “He has a girlfriend. A sin eater, as Eglantine had suspected. The soul bringer is an unfeeling, emotionless thing. If he has a lover, then I can only suspect he’s changed. And any man who is in love is weak.”

  “Have you ever been in love?” she asked. “I mean, I know you were married. And you had the affair. But was it love?”

  Bron tilted down the whole glass of orange juice, taking a moment to gather his wits. She just came out with anything she wanted to know. Which he shouldn’t mind, but every little bit she learned about him... Well. A man could only protect himself for so long before the inevitable emotion did bring him down and open up his walls.

  Could he hope the soul bringer’s defensive walls had fallen because he may be in love?

  “If you don’t want to say,” she tossed out, “it’s okay. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “I thought I was in love,” he said quickly. “I thought I could love my wife. I did for a while. Maybe. I’m not sure. And then I thought I loved Isabelle’s mother, but I realized it was more a means of exerting my freedom from the entire pack. I liked the idea of leading the pack, but actually assuming responsibility was something I wasn’t yet prepared to do. I think that’s why I did what I did. Instinctually, I knew I would be found out.”

  She reached for his hand and tapped his fingers. A reassuring touch.

  “But I did love Isabelle,” he said. “I should have spent more time with her. Been a real father to her.”

  Kizzy clasped his hand and smiled a small, comforting curve. “You did your best.”

  “Did I? I’m pretty sure I did as I pleased and was taken to task for it.”

  “Yes, but now that you know better, you do better.”

  “You have an inordinately high opinion of me. You should be careful.”

  “Why? Do you intend to break my heart? Or just steal it?”

  He smirked. “There will be no talk of stolen hearts. Yours will remain exactly where it is.”

  The door buzzer rang, and Kizzy got up. Bron stood immediately and gestured she stay by the table.

  “We’re safe,” she said. “We’ve got the witch’s protection spell, right?

  “Still,” Bron offered. “Sit. I’ll get it.”

  He strolled down the hallway, but before he reached the door it crashed open, the doorknob crushing the Sheetrock inward. And in the threshold stood a tall, dark-haired man sporting a whiplash grin.

  “Blackthorn Regis,” Bron guessed.

  Chapter 20

  Kizzy stood up slowly at the sight of the tall man standing before Bron. Coal-dark hair spilled to his shoulders. He was deceptively slender, for she sensed he was powerful from the manner he stood in the doorway, head tilted forward, shoulders back, hands posed as if to grip a pistol for a shoot-out. He didn’t move to attack.

  Bron stood equally as prepared, feet planted. He’d placed himself between her and the man.

  A soul bringer? Who had once been an angel. Wow.

  And yet... He wanted her heart.

  She shivered and backed away from the table until her legs hit the windowsill behind her. Her eyes darted about in search of a weapon. Didn’t Bron carry a knife on him at all times? She didn’t see it. He must have taken it out of his boot. Would the stake in his holster have any effect against a soul bringer?

  “I thought it time we had a chat,” the soul bringer said to them both. He had a touch of a British accent, or so it seemed from his pure intonation. “Won’t you invite me in? I can’t harm either of you. Or even touch you. I can feel the witchy protection spell. It stings as if bees to my skin.”

  Glancing over his shoulder, Bron studied Kizzy’s gaze. She gave him the slightest nod. If the soul bringer couldn’t touch them, they should be safe. And she did want to get this hashed out. She trusted Bron would protect her, yet she sensed even he wasn’t 100 percent sure how to face this particular opponent.

  “Have a seat,” she offered, gesturing to the table. She rushed to grab the breakfast plates and set them in the sink.

  The soul bringer’s approach felt as if a cool winter wind had blown beneath the windowsill, and she shivered as she turned to find him sitting opposite where she had been. Bron stood beside him at the table, eyes intent on the enemy. It felt wrong but strangely convivial.

  The soul bringer sat. Dressed in a black damask vest stitched with gold threading, and a black shirt beneath and paired with black leather pants over Italian loafers, he looked out of time. Rather dapper, actually, but not dandyish. She would not doubt he could destroy them both with ease.

  Bron did not sit but instead held the back of the chair with a tight grip as he leaned forward. “Talk then.”

  Kizzy carefully settled onto the chair across the table from their guest. Her skin flushed as the soul bringer’s black eyes moved over her. She could sense his power. Feel it like electricity crackling across her skin. Or perhaps that was the protection spell doing its job. She hoped so.

  Where was her camera?

  “I can feel your heart beating swiftly,” the soul bringer said to her, his eyes burning into hers with precise aim. “Who clasped it from Purgatory and tried to bring you down?”

  “You talk to me,” Bron said, dragging the chair out from the table and planting himself before the soul bringer. “She’s not your concern.”

  “She is my raison d’être. Are you her protector now? You, who traveled across the ocean to rip the heart from her chest.”

  “That will never happen,” Bron said. “As long as I live.”

  The soul bringer smiled a straight grin. “Your death can be accomplished.”

  “Don’t you have some souls to ferry?” Bron asked tightly.

  The man shrugged. “I am on holiday until this matter gets taken care of.”

  “This matter? You want something from Kizzy, and I’ve told you that will never happen. End of the matter. Anything else you want to discuss before I request you leave?”

  “I wish to make a trade. I’ve al
ready given you the means to securing that trade. You have your wife’s heart?”

  Bron smashed his fist on the table, and Kizzy’s entire body stiffened. Would he shift to werewolf and take the guy out? Could he shift during the day? Was it a moonlight thing?

  “You had no right,” Bron said tightly. “Claire was an innocent.”

  “Yes, but it did serve to summon your attention.” The soul bringer leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “I will give you your wife in trade for the Purgatory Heart. At which point you will have the opportunity to replace her heart, and she walks away. Alive.”

  Bron gaped.

  The soul bringer grinned. “You thought she was dead?” He shook his head.

  “The witch said you could take out hearts and keep a person alive,” Kizzy said. “Where is his wife?”

  “Kizzy,” Bron admonished tightly.

  She had lost her fear of the evil sitting across the table from her, which wasn’t necessarily wise. Bron’s severe glance tethered her back to reality. She clasped her arms across her chest but sat up straighter. She wasn’t puddling now, nor would she ever. And she would show them both that.

  “Why do you want to enter Purgatory?” Bron asked. “I’m given to understand that is impossible for you.”

  “What I can and cannot do is not your concern, werewolf. But what I will do to your wife should be.” Blackthorn rapped the tabletop. “Tomorrow morning at nine, out past the farm supply store. There is an abandoned silo and former hardware warehouse that the human woman will recognize. By then I sense the protection spell will be depleted, for I can feel it drain from you both even as I sit here. Bring me this woman with the Purgatory Heart intact, and I will hand your wife to you. Best you retrieve her heart. After I release her, she won’t have much time. The heart must immediately be returned to its rightful position.”

  The soul bringer stood and swept around to stroll down the hallway. Kizzy and Bron held each other’s stares, mouths open. The front door slammed shut, startling them both from their frozen states.

  “She’s alive,” Kizzy offered with hope. “Your wife.”

  Yet speaking those words cut into her heart. She shouldn’t feel jealous. And Bron had admitted he’d never truly loved Claire, but now he had to save her. Honor wouldn’t allow him to do otherwise. Nor could she ask him not to.

  She clutched a hand over her chest. Would it be the last time she felt her racing heartbeats?

  “If she is alive, he must be keeping her somewhere,” Bron said, standing and pacing to the window. “Most likely the warehouse where he wants to meet. You are familiar with it?”

  “Yes. It’s about four miles out of town. Used to host snowcat races in the winter until the city cracked down on the bonfires as a safety hazard. What are you thinking? Rescue mission?”

  “It’s the only option.”

  “But if the soul bringer doesn’t willingly release her to you, maybe you won’t be able to put her heart back? I don’t think we can simply grab her and run.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Bron strode past the table. Kizzy followed him down the hallway to the front door. He stopped before opening it and turned to her. “You stay here. I’m going to scout the warehouse.”

  “I’m coming with you. I don’t want to stay alone. What if—”

  “You are protected from all paranormals who wish you harm.”

  “You heard the guy. He said he could feel the protection spell draining. By morning it will be completely gone. Bron.” She clasped his hands. “Maybe if you give him my heart, he’ll do the same with me? Use it for whatever he needs it for, and then put it back in my chest. I could live. And you could save your wife.”

  “That’s insanity. I don’t trust the man. And I will not have another woman harmed because of my mistakes.”

  “This isn’t your mistake.” She touched his cheek, and he jerked away from her. But she insisted and stepped closer until he could look into her eyes. “I’m not your mistake. You just happened on to my weirdness. And because you’re such an honorable man, you’ve been forced to make some tough choices. Now it’s my turn to make a choice. It’s my heart.”

  He clasped her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, closing his eyes. Shaking his head. “No, I won’t. I can’t. You... Kizzy...” He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. “You mean so much to me.”

  The gasping plea filled her with hope. She meant something to him. As he did to her. They could join hands, turn and run as far from danger as possible. To live happily ever after? Not possible if they gave up on Claire.

  “You can’t let her die.”

  “I won’t. I’ll figure something out. But first and foremost, I will protect you. I swear it, Kizzy. Let me be your protector.”

  “You are. I adore you for that.”

  He smirked. “You don’t even know me.”

  “You are kind and strong and loyal. That’s all I need to know.”

  He bowed his head to her forehead. “And you are smart, good and open to everything. I love that about you.”

  “I’m coming with you to get your wife’s heart.”

  “I don’t love her anymore,” he said. “You need to know that. I’m not sure I ever did.”

  “I know. But you did care for her.”

  “I still care about her safety. And guilt will not allow me to ignore her.”

  “It’s not guilt, but honor.”

  “If you say so. Let’s go.”

  Grabbing her camera, Kizzy closed the door behind them, and they sailed down the stairs and out the back door into the alleyway where Bron had fought the harpie just the other night. No harpies in sight. No vampires, either, but Kizzy kept a keen eye peeled in all directions as they walked.

  “I should go to the warehouse first,” Bron said.

  “The soul bringer will be watching for you. Let’s return to the woods to get the heart first. You’ll need it. She will need it.”

  “Why do you care so much about a woman you’ve never met?”

  “I would hope if I were in her position, someone would care enough about me.”

  He kissed her and smoothed his hand through her hair. “Thank you, for being the strange, wonderful woman that you are.”

  * * *

  The rental truck rumbled off the gravel road and back onto the highway. The shovel clattered in the truck bed. Bron had forgotten to secure it in the utility box. But he’d found the black box, exactly where he’d buried it. His nose had led him right to it.

  That wasn’t the only thing his senses had tuned into. It was only late afternoon, and he was beginning to feel the stirrings of the moon’s call beneath his skin. He needed to stop it if he were to stay in top form. But the only way to do that was to have sex. Lots of it. Tonight.

  It was either that or drive out to the country and shift to werewolf for the night. Neither option was optimal. Though one of the two was preferable.

  He reached across the seat and clasped Kizzy’s hand. She held the dirt-smeared box with her other hand. She smiled at him. He could think of nothing better than making love to her all night. And that was the problem. He was horny, damn it. His focus was divided.

  And then a terrible thought occurred. If he craved sex tonight, all other werewolves would, as well. Including his long-lost wife. What condition was Claire in, missing her heart? Had the soul bringer chained her up? Imprisoned her? Could Bron rescue her tonight and set her free to go satisfy her own wild cravings?

  He shouldn’t be thinking about having sex with Kizzy when Claire’s life was at stake. And yet, would Claire even be thankful for his return? Had Blackthorn Regis told her he’d given Bron her heart, and her freedom hinged on him returning with it? Of course, he had.

  And yet, what would happen when he did stand before th
e wife he had not seen for over a hundred and fifty years, holding her heart? If a trade were made, Kizzy’s heart must be handed over. And yet, the soul bringer couldn’t touch it. How had he gotten Claire’s heart in the box? Out of her chest?

  Bron was missing something. And he didn’t like not knowing how to deal with a situation. He pulled up before Kizzy’s building.

  “Why here?” she asked.

  “I’ve rethought our original plan. You’ll be safe with the witch’s protection spell. I’m going to check on the warehouse myself. No arguments. Take the box.” He tapped the black box, and dirt flecked onto her lap. “Guard it with your life.”

  Kizzy nodded. “You’ll come back?”

  “I have to,” he said. “Full moon tomorrow night. Tonight...”

  “I’ll be waiting,” she said and squeezed his hand. “Do what you have to do.”

  She slid out of the truck and walked up to the building entrance and didn’t look back before entering. Bron wished she had. Would he see her again?

  He wasn’t sure.

  Chapter 21

  He found the old warehouse easily enough. The countryside was thick with pine forest, but a stretch along the highway had been cleared where he suspected farmers must have once brought in grain after harvest. Now the concrete drive was cracked and weed-ridden, and the building’s corrugated steel walls were intact in about 80 percent of the area. Windows had been broken out or removed decades earlier, perhaps to prevent—or because of—vandalism.

  Bron had driven past the place and parked half a mile up the road on an old turnoff that went nowhere. The truck was hidden from view by the pine trees that gave off a sharp, clean odor. Gravel crunched under his boots as he walked along the opposite side of the road and stopped a quarter mile away. His vision was sharp, allowing him to see through one of the warehouse windows. Something moved inside. His chest tightened, and he sucked in a breath. He caught a glimpse of the soul bringer, dressed in black, pacing, talking on a cell phone. Of all things! But his focus veered to the cage that, within, sat a blonde woman, clinging to the bars, her gaze lost on something Bron couldn’t determine.