by Michele Hauf
“Claire,” he whispered. And his heart tightened. Had he forgotten that pale, long hair that had once spilled over his face as they’d made love? What had it smelled like?
How many decades had it been since he’d even considered the life he’d once had as pack leader and husband? It was too long ago. He’d put all that behind him. And now his past had been resurrected for reasons that baffled him.
Where had the soul bringer found Claire? She could not have been living in the area. Or even the States. Though he could have no clue where life had lured her in the decades since he’d been forced out of the pack, shamed for his selfish act against her.
Who the hell was he to think he could have a chance with Kizzy? That he deserved a chance with her? Human or not, did it matter? The simple question was: Could he treat a woman well?
Over the years he’d lost much of that wild, young wolf he’d once been. His wild nature had been honed, polished. Not exactly tamed, but focused. Change had been inevitable. But was he capable of fidelity? That he even considered it now startled him. He hadn’t known Kizzy long. Yet she had planted herself within his cautious heart.
He mustn’t think like that. Shouldn’t his wife deserve his consideration first and foremost?
He should just wolf out and go after the soul bringer. That might get his wife released. It also might injure the soul bringer, but Bron knew it was an uneven match. Even in werewolf form he wasn’t designed to go against an angel.
And if he did steal Claire away, how to put her heart back where it belonged? He’d been told the soul bringer had to do it and quickly. Would she die the moment he took her away?
Bron rubbed his temple, easing at the twinge that threatened to become a headache. His discomfort was more than just that. His body hummed; his skin was extra sensitive. The day was growing long, and with that, the urge to shift to werewolf grew stronger. As well, the full moon urged him to mate in his were form. He had to choose between shifting or mating.
He didn’t want to do either tonight when he should be getting Claire away from Blackthorn Regis. But he didn’t know a way around things. Likely the soul bringer had thought this through. He wouldn’t expect Bron to come charging in tonight as a werewolf, because he’d not have fighting in mind.
Yet if Bron felt the urge to shift or mate, then Claire would, too.
He focused on the cage again but couldn’t see her now. The bars would prove a godsend for her sake. She would be desperate to mate, as well.
If Bron should go near his wife tonight, it would inevitably result in mating. They would have no choice. Their hormones and instincts would demand it of the two of them. And he didn’t want that. Nor did she, he felt sure. Certainly not with the husband who had cuckolded her, the man who’d left her so long ago only to now trap her in a new nightmare.
So to protect her—in the strangest way possible—he’d have to let her sit alone tonight and hope she could not break free from the cage.
It was best for Claire.
Rubbing a hand over his face, he shook his head at the ridiculous option he’d decided on. It wasn’t fair or just. Cruel, even. But he could not choose the other option. He would not force sex between him and Claire. Because he cared too much about what Kizzy would think of that. She wouldn’t like it. Though he suspected she’d suggest it. Just to be understanding. She was too nice.
And caring. And...he wanted her right now. Because his body craved sexual satisfaction. He wanted to dive inside her soft peachy scent. Instincts demanded he heed that desire or else answer the call of his wild.
He glanced toward the warehouse. Rush in, stab the soul bringer. Grab Claire. Head out.
With no means to return her heart to her chest.
Tightening his jaw, he resisted the foolish charge to the vanguard. Patience was required.
“I’m sorry, Claire. I will return for you in the morning.”
* * *
Kizzy hadn’t been able to sit still. She paced. Turned on the TV but hadn’t been interested in Dr. Oz’s prescription for a healthy heart. Paced some more. Then decided she had to offer herself so Bron could free Claire. The soul bringer would put her heart back when he was done with it. Everything would be swell.
Because Bron thought he could save her without removing her heart. She knew that wasn’t possible. She hadn’t been dreaming about a werewolf ripping out her heart for no reason. It had been a portent. One she must now step up to fulfill.
She put on a red T-shirt, then shook her head at the reflection in the mirror.
“I’ll need buttons,” she muttered, pulling it off. “Easier access.”
Then she shivered as she stood before the mirror half naked. It would hurt to have her heart ripped out. She didn’t have to wonder about that. And it would hurt as much to have it put back in. Anesthesia, anyone?
She stroked her fingers down the scar already there. She’d never thought it ugly, only a new part of her. A new chapter to her story. And perhaps, a reminder of a regrettable moment. She should have waited to talk to Keith after they’d safely arrived home that night. But would it have mattered?
Would he have ever heard her truth? Or would he have ignored her for his own desires, as he had been so excellent at doing. He didn’t have to steer the car into the ditch that night.
“It was his choice,” she whispered.
Could she live with that? Could she move on and not let this bother her anymore?
“I have to,” she whispered. “I will.”
She grabbed a floral button-up blouse and pulled it on. “What happened with Keith and I happened. It’s done. I can’t change it. And now? I’m going to do this. It’s what is best. Bron’s wife will be set free. And I will not agree to do it unless I am also set free with heart intact. Win-win,” she said to the mirror. “Right?”
Her reflection did not return an encouraging smile, so Kizzy turned away and shoved her feet into the pair of red Vans. She’d have to be careful going to the warehouse. Bron could still have it staked out. But she couldn’t risk meeting him along the way. She’d have to stake him out staking out the warehouse. As soon as he drove off, she’d move in.
“I can do this. I will do this,” she whispered as she strode down the hallway toward the front door.
It was the only way to be free. And only she could do that for herself.
But when she opened the door a handsome man stepped in and swept her into a deep and wanting kiss. Gliding his hands along her arms, Bron lifted her wrists and pinned them to the wall above her head. He smelled like pine trees and fresh air. Deepening the kiss, he hugged her at hips, chest and thighs. His erection nudged into her hip, teasing her with an unexpected offer.
“Well, well. You’re in a mood.”
“That I am.” He kissed her jaw, her neck and tugged at the rayon shirt collar with his teeth. “Were you on your way out?”
“Uh, nope?”
“You were on your way to look for me,” he guessed.
“I don’t think so.” Yeah, so she wasn’t a first-class liar.
And Bron was more perceptive than she could imagine. Right now he perceived that lashing his tongue over her skin and toward her breast would send shivers up her spine and coax her to wrap her legs about his hips. Had she been on her way out to do something important? The sensuous glide of his tongue over her skin dizzied her better senses. And she didn’t mind that at all.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.
“Talk later,” he muttered. “I’m hungry.”
“We could go get a bite to eat—”
“I’m hungry for you,” he growled against her ear.
There was no arguing that statement.
“Oh, I get it. Is this the part where we have sex until you’re sated?”
“Yes. Any
objections?”
Happy to oblige, she grabbed him by the shirt and closed the front door. Pulling him down the hallway, she led him into the bedroom. But the sudden thought that she wasn’t the first to help him out wouldn’t allow her to just dive right in. She turned and pressed a hand to his chest. “You’ve lived how long?”
“Almost two hundred years.”
“And how many lovers have you had in those two centuries?”
“Kizzy. You don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“Please, satisfy the curiosity in me. I’ll tell you how many I’ve had?”
“It doesn’t matter to me. All that does is when we’re together you are completely here. Mine.” He kissed her soundly. “No one else’s.” He lifted her and kissed the base of her neck. “The past doesn’t matter, nor does the future.”
“So we’re not thinking about tomorrow morn—” Another kiss silenced her.
Bron laid her on the bed and crawled over her. The predatory spark in his eyes didn’t frighten her so much as stir her desires to a giddy thrill. Who cared how many lovers he’d had? Well, she did, a little. Just for curiosity’s sake, of course. But he was right. Now was for...now.
Her shirt slid up, and his hot tongue lashed her bare breast. Kizzy squirmed and pulled him closer. He nipped her jaw and kissed his way up to her mouth. He ground his erection against her, and she tilted up a hip to meet that tease.
“Hard enough for you?” he asked.
“Let’s take that big boy out to play.” She reached down and unzipped him, carefully, and before she could shove his jeans past his hips, she gripped his penis with one hand and slid her other down to cup his testicles.
“Mmm, Kizzy, careful.”
“Kick off your jeans.”
“You’re in a hurry.”
“And you’re not?”
“We’ve got all night,” he said as he tossed his jeans aside and allowed her to pull him toward her by his cock.
“Then let’s start with a taste,” she said and bent to lick his erection.
* * *
As the night grew into morning, and their antics moved them all about the bed, the room, and even down the hallway for a slammed-against-the-wall session of heart-pumping sex, Bron’s werewolf demanded he continue to seek sexual satisfaction even after the incredible orgasms both he and Kizzy shared. And since he didn’t want to break out into a howler in the middle of the city, he answered that insistent call. With gusto.
Somehow they’d found their way into the living room on the couch. The TV was on, turned to a music station, and currently played an 80s dance tune. One of Kizzy’s legs hooked over his shoulder as he kissed the sweet spot between her legs and lashed his tongue along the tender folds, finding a different reaction from her from various places he touched. Some places stirred up long, hungry moans. Another spot made her peep with desperation. This particular place made her grip his hair and tug, roughly, pulling him in deeper, demanding he give her what she wanted.
She tasted sweet and salty and wanting. Everything about her answered his needs. Needs he’d avoided for decades. Not like a monk. But cautiously placing himself to the side whenever he hooked up with a woman. Never once returning for the second night. Yes, even when he must feed his hunger the night before and after the full moon—which was often—he made sure to find a woman who was only interested in the sex. Not him.
And the whole avoiding the human woman thing? He couldn’t, for the life of him, figure why he’d been so frightened of actually moving beyond that fear and allowing a friendship or even a short affair. It hadn’t been the human that had caused all his problems; it had been his choices. Bad choices. That he would never make again.
“That’s so freaking good,” Kizzy muttered. “Don’t stop, Bron. Don’t...”
He wasn’t about to disappoint this woman. Her breathless gasps coaxed him to circle his tongue about her clit. She’d come quickly, he’d learned, if he placed the firm, lingering tip of his tongue right...there.
Kizzy gasped out a delicious shout of climax. Her head slid over the edge of the couch, and her breasts heaved in the moonlight that beamed through the boulevard window. Her body tremored. Her stomach glistened with perspiration. Her fingers clenched for a hold, finding his hair.
And in that moment Bron knew he could not easily walk away from Kisanthra Lewis. She was gorgeous. A moon goddess. A sweet innocent who knew more than she should. A keeper of secrets, hoarded within her camera. A daring believer.
He loved her.
For the first time in his life, he might really be in love with a woman. Was that possible? Or was it merely lust?
Hours later his werewolf was sated. It must have been around three in the morning. Bron lay beside Kizzy, panting, coming down from yet another orgasm that had shook them simultaneously.
“Do you need to do that every month?” she said on an elated whisper.
“Either that or let my werewolf out. If I’m home on my property I opt for the run in the wild.”
“Yeah, that was certainly a run in the wild. Wow!”
“You rethinking your agreement to help me out tonight?”
“Nope. Never. I like your wild. I think you even growled at me a couple of times.”
“You liked it.”
“I did.” She rolled to her back and closed her eyes. Smoothing her hand across his stomach she tickled a fingertip through the dark hair growing up from his groin. “I’m going to have some good dreams now.”
“Then I’ll let you rest. I’m sated.” He almost said “thank you,” but that felt wrong. She hadn’t just given him a gift or done something kind for him. She had shared herself with him. And that was worth more than a simple thank-you. He kissed her forehead. “Sweet dreams.”
“For sure they’ll be much better than the werewolf-ripping-out-my heart dream,” she said on a drowsy tone.
“What?” He’d heard her correctly. “You think I...?”
“Huh? Oh. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything, but...it’s nothing to do with you.”
“I don’t understand. Kizzy?”
“It’s just—I’ve been having nightmares since the accident. Couple times a month. Always this werewolf rips out my heart. And then...well the dream ends, and I never know if he eats it or if I live or what.”
“Kizzy, why are you only telling me this now?”
“I did mention it earlier.”
“Not the part about the werewolf.”
“I didn’t want to freak you out. It can’t mean anything. They’ve been going on much longer than I’ve known you. And I assume it’s metaphorical. I’m into paranormal creatures, so of course it would be a werewolf that would show up in my dream, since those were the only ones I was really afraid of.” She yawned. “You’ve worn me out. ’Night.”
“Good night,” he said and kissed her again. But Bron didn’t fall asleep as easily as she did. She’d dreamed about a werewolf ripping out her heart?
What strange portent had brought him into her life?
Chapter 22
Kizzy rolled over in bed and wrapped her arms around...the pillow.
She sat up and blinked at the morning sunshine beaming through the window. Forgot to pull the shades last night. Her body felt lax and warm, and she smelled like Bron and sex. A delicious blend of wild and salty. She listened but didn’t have to wonder if he was in the bathroom. The door across the hallway was open, and the small bathroom was dark. And she didn’t hear anyone tinkering out in the kitchen.
Her heart dropped to her gut. “He left without me. He’s going to try and beat the soul bringer and save his wife. He can’t do that!” She scrambled off the bed and grabbed some clothes. “He needs me.” She stood abruptly and clasped her chest. He’d successfully dissuaded her from her mission
yesterday. All night. But now it was a new day.
And... “He needs my heart.”
There was no way around it. He might be able to wound the soul bringer with some of those weapons he wielded, but to ultimately win? Even Bron had been unsure he could stand against one so powerful. There was only one way for him to walk out of that warehouse this morning with his wife in his arms.
And while she should care less what happened to the wife, Kizzy couldn’t stand back and allow an innocent woman to suffer for something that she could fix.
Besides, she could get her heart back after the soul bringer had used it as a portal to Purgatory. All would be swell.
That’s what she kept repeating as she dressed, quickly brushed her teeth, swigged back some orange juice—ugh! After toothpaste!—and headed for the door. Gripping the knob, she paused and wondered about bringing along her camera. She shook her head. Too big. And it would be a distraction.
She opened the door, then rushed back into the kitchen and grabbed the small digital camera she used for backup and tucked it into her front pocket.
“I’m not a fool.”
* * *
Bron dodged a wicked arc of black lightning that crackled above his head. Jumping to the right, he stood upright with the bowie knife held at the ready.
The soul bringer smirked. “I can do this all day, werewolf. Face it. You’ve not the speed or the skill to defeat me. Sure, you can take down most other entities that inhabit this mortal realm. But that’s because they are of this realm. I am not.”
Indeed, the man was angel. But he’d had to try. Repeatedly. And with everything he could muster. And without Kizzy at his side. He’d made the right choice by leaving her back home snug in bed. No harm must come to her.
With a sweep of his hand, he wiped the sweat from his brow. He glanced toward the cage set against the wall in the shadows. Claire sat inside. She clung to the bars, her darting eyes wide. Blond hair tangled down her back. Her white dress was dirty. Had she shifted last night? The dress wasn’t torn, but she may have been forced to take it off before shifting. Pray, the soul bringer had not stood there watching. She had suffered enough humiliation as well as personal threat. Because of him.