The Werewolf Meets His Match (Nocturne Falls Book 2)

by Kristen Painter

  The wolf landed with a yelp as Hank got to his feet. He checked the bite. Blood oozed from the punctures on his right arm, but it would heal. Right now, he had more important things to deal with. Like Prescott charging at him on all fours, jaw gaping, muzzle red with Hank’s blood.

  Hank put his head down and ran toward Prescott, shifting into his wolf form on the move. He collided with Prescott in a chaotic tangle of teeth and claws. They rolled over the ground, biting and snarling.

  Prescott clearly needed the payday because he’d finally started making an effort to win, but Hank was done playing. Time to bring this challenge to a fast close. Prescott threw his head back to wriggle free, giving Hank the opening he needed. He clamped his jaw over Prescott’s throat. The other shifter wheezed and whimpered and went still.

  Prescott had to know he’d been beat. Any second, Hank expected to hear the fight called. Then cries went up from the crowd, and Sebastian Ellingham’s voice rang out. “Hold.”

  Hank released Prescott and backed away, knowing he’d won. But when he looked around, the crowd wasn’t focused on him or Prescott, but on a small figure running toward them, about to cross the chalk line.

  Charlie.

  Birdie trailed after him, yelling for him to stop.

  Hank opened his mouth to yell, too, but he had no voice as a wolf. He quickly shifted back to his human form and put his hands out. “No, Charlie. Stay where you are.”

  Charlie skidded to a stop, looking at Hank with questions in his eyes. But it was too late. His sneakers were dusted with white, and the line behind him blurred in two spots. Hank’s stomach dropped. He sank to his knees, the cold hand of defeat squeezing him.

  Charlie had crossed the line.

  Ivy wanted to run to Charlie, to scoop him up, but fear held her back. She was definitely on Hank’s side whereas Charlie could possibly be seen as belonging to either. She didn’t want to be the reason Hank was disqualified and Eric won. She laced her fingers into a begging pose. “Charlie,” she pleaded. “Get out of there.”

  On the edge of the circle, just feet away from Charlie, Birdie wrung her hands, her eyes tearing up. “I’m so sorry. He got out of the car before I knew what he was doing.” She looked at Sebastian as he walked toward Charlie. “He didn’t mean anything—”

  Sebastian held his hand up. “The damage is done.” He stepped over the chalk line and into the circle to speak to Charlie, his role as adjudicator letting him cross the line without consequence.

  A few feet away from Hank, Eric shifted into his human form. Ivy found some happiness in the fact that he was bleeding in far more places than Hank. Maybe he’d get an infection and die.

  Sebastian crouched down to speak to Charlie. “Why did you come into the circle, son?”

  Uncertainty bent Charlie’s mouth. Ivy understood that look. He knew he’d done something wrong, he just didn’t know what. He looked at his hands when he spoke. “Aunt Birdie told me they were fighting.”

  “So you came to see them?”

  Charlie nodded.

  Sebastian leaned down farther, trying to make eye contact. “Who did you come to see?”

  Charlie pointed behind him at Hank and Eric. “I wanted to see my dad.”

  In any other moment, Charlie calling Hank dad would have melted her into a puddle of mush. But in this moment, the word cut through her like a blade. Charlie had just sealed their fates.

  Sebastian stood, and Ivy braced herself for the inevitable announcement that would disqualify Hank and rip her son from her life forever. The vampire stared at the two men, then pointed at Eric. “Is this your son?”

  Eric glanced around as if realizing what was being asked of him. He hesitated, then shook his head, his smirk horrifyingly victorious. “No.”

  Sam swore softly.

  Ivy’s heart hurt to hear Eric’s denial, but it was exactly what she had expected.

  Sebastian pointed at Hank. “Is this your son?”

  Ivy held her breath. There was no way to answer the question without Charlie getting hurt. She grabbed hold of the women on either side of her and prayed for a miracle.

  Hank looked at Charlie. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his gaze went oddly liquid. He smiled at the little boy. “Yes, he is.”

  Then he opened his arms. Charlie ran to him, and Hank wrapped him in a hug.

  Pain tore through Ivy, erasing the joy at seeing them together like that. For a moment, she felt lightheaded, then the dizziness passed, and she focused on her two men. She wanted to run to them, to hold on to both of them, to fight to the death to keep Charlie at her side.

  As if sensing that, Bridget and Delaney took her hands and held her in place.

  “Not yet,” Bridget whispered.

  Sebastian raised his hand. “I rule that the boy has crossed the line and is on the side of Hank Merrow.”

  “That means I win,” Eric announced. He looked so pleased with himself that Ivy shifted into half-form long enough to snarl at him.

  He jerked around to look at her, the smile vanishing off his stupid face to be replaced by a look of uncertainty. And maybe a little fear.

  Good. He should be afraid. Because if he tried to take Charlie, the only way he was leaving Nocturne Falls was in a body bag.

  Sebastian’s gaze landed on Ivy briefly, his eyes full of warning. “By the rules of the challenge, Hank Merrow is disqualified.”

  Birdie started to cry.

  “However,” Sebastian continued. “Eric Prescott’s challenge was predicated on Charlie Kincaid being his son. Prescott’s words to the contrary invalidated that challenge. Furthermore, as adjudicator, it is within my right to make a judgment concerning the challenge so long as the second adjudicator agrees with me. And I say that there is no rule that can force me to grant custody of this child to the man who is unwilling to claim him as his own.”

  He looked at his brother. “Do you concur?”

  Hugh nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “Good job, honey,” Delaney called out.

  Sebastian crossed his hands through the air. “This challenge is over. Hank Merrow is the winner. Charlie belongs with him.”

  Eric stared, mouth open, body rigid with shock.

  Ivy started laughing uncontrollably as chaos erupted around her.

  Bridget was jumping up and down. Birdie fainted.

  Sam whooped and headed toward Eric. He pointed at Prescott. “You are so done.”

  Ivy laughed harder, happy that her brother would be the one to deal with her ex.

  Hank threw Charlie into the air with a loud, happy howl. Delaney was running toward her husband. That was a great idea. Ivy took off toward Hank and Charlie, reaching them a few seconds later.

  Hank put Charlie on his shoulders and pulled Ivy into his arms. “We did it.”

  She was too happy to speak. She clung to him, one arm around him, her other hand on Charlie’s back.

  From the edge of her peripheral vision, a burst of movement caught her attention. Sam yelled, “Ivy,” at the same time as she moved to get a better look.

  Sam was on the ground, his hand on his belly where red bloomed from a long gash. Eric flew toward them, a snarl on his lips and the flash of metal in his hand. Silver. It registered as a blade a second too late. He sank the knife into Hank’s side and whipped it out again just as fast. Then he grabbed Charlie’s arm and yanked him away from Hank.

  The impact staggered Hank, but it was the silver that dropped him to his knees. Blood welled from the wound.

  Charlie screamed, “Mommy.”

  Ivy froze as panic, fear and anger incapacitated her. Her brother and her husband were bleeding and poisoned, but her son was in the hands of a maniac.

  Eric held on to Charlie, brandishing the bloody weapon in front of him. “If you think I’m going to accept the ruling of the two vampires you happen to be buddy-buddy with, you’re dead wrong. I won the challenge. Charlie’s coming with me.”

  Charlie was in danger. There was no more thought n
eeded. Ivy leaped, shifting into her wolf mid-air, and attacked Eric with her motherly instincts driving her.

  Protect Charlie.

  Kill Eric.

  As Ivy chomped down on Prescott’s knife hand and caused him to drop the knife, Hank clamped a hand to his side and urged Charlie to action. “Charlie, shift and bite him.”

  “I can’t,” Charlie cried, his gaze stuck on Prescott, who still held him.

  Hank pulled his hand away. It was covered in blood. The silver had tainted the wound and kept it from clotting. Breathing took work. Prescott was still trying to shake Ivy loose and refused to let Charlie go. “You can do it, Charlie. I know you can. Just think like a wolf.”

  Charlie closed his eyes. A second later, he was a wolf.

  “You did it!” Hank nodded, his head getting lighter and lighter as blood seeped out of him. He dragged himself toward Ivy, who was still struggling with Prescott. “Now bite him and run as soon as you’re free.”

  Charlie bit the hand that was holding him. Prescott released the boy. Ivy got free too, only to leap on top of Prescott and knock him down. Her teeth snapped inches from his face. Charlie took off running.

  Relieved that his son was safe, Hank focused on saving his wife. He wasn’t worried she’d be hurt so much as that she’d kill the guy in front of so many witnesses. He found the knife Prescott had dropped. He managed enough strength to drive it into Prescott’s thigh.

  A cry of pain rewarded him. He smiled as he fell back onto the ground. “Get him, Ivy.”

  He was vaguely aware of people rushing toward him as his vision wavered. It was hard to focus on anything but the stars overhead. A dark, gargoyle-shaped form swept through the sky. Then keeping his eyes open became impossible.

  “Ivy,” he managed.

  Familiar, comforting voices answered him. “She’s fine. And Charlie’s with Birdie.”

  Bridget maybe. Hank couldn’t think. So he closed his eyes and drifted into the darkness.

  When he opened them again, everything was too bright and his head felt like it was packed with warm cotton. He squinted. Nothing looked or smelled familiar. A dull ache radiated from his side. “Where the hell am I?”

  “You’re awake! You’re in the hospital.” An angel appeared in his field of vision. He realized a second later it was Ivy. His wife. He smiled as she peered down at him. “How do you feel?”

  “You’re pretty.” Why was he in the hospital?

  He tried to sit, but she shook her head. “I can see the morphine is still working. Now stop moving, you’ll open the stitches.”

  “Stitches?” He blinked, trying to make sense of things.

  She nodded. “Eric’s knife was silver plated. He meant to kill you.”

  Hank let his head sink in the pillow as the memory of what happened returned in loose, unconnected scenes. “Where’s Charlie?”

  “He’s fine. He’s with Birdie at the house.”

  “I love that kid. I love you.”

  She nodded, grinning. “I know you do.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “He was a little freaked out, but I told him how proud of him we are and how nothing like that is ever going to happen again.”

  “That’s for damn sure. You’re a good mother. How long have I been here?”

  She took his hand, her smile making him feel better. “Not long. About twelve hours. Sam’s already been released. His cut wasn’t nearly as bad as yours. The silver really knocked you out. And it’s slowing down the healing process, so you might be here overnight.”

  He frowned. Twelve hours. “We missed the Zombie Prom.”

  “That’s okay. There’s always next year.”

  He started to get out of bed. She grabbed his arm. “What part of you might have to be here overnight don’t you understand?”

  “Like hell. I’m not staying overnight. I might have to arrest someone.”

  A little trill of laughter escaped her. “Oh, this is fun.”

  “What?”

  “You. You’re highly amusing on morphine. I wasn’t expecting that.”

  He peered at her. “Have you been here the whole time?”

  “Yes.” She kissed his forehead. “Because I love you,” she whispered.

  “Hey.” He put a hand on her shoulder.

  She sat back. “What?”

  “We’re married.” He grinned. “We’re going to have sex later.”

  She snorted softly. “Maybe not today.”

  He blinked at her, feeling a little sad. “Why not?”

  “Stitches, remember?”

  Stitches. Where had he gotten those again? “What happened to…?” His head was too fuzzy to think right.

  “Eric?” she offered.

  He nodded. “I don’t like him.”

  “No one does. He’s in another room with stitches of his own. When he’s capable of leaving, Sam and Titus will be taking him to lockup because, while bringing a knife to the challenge wasn’t against the rules, using silver against another shifter violates pack law. He’ll be going to tribunal along with the Jenkins brothers.”

  “You attacked him.”

  “You helped.” She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “If only we could link all this to my father, too.”

  Hank laced his fingers through hers. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe I should get to the station.”

  “Not today, Sheriff.”

  He closed his eyes as the morphine overtook him.

  Her lips brushed his mouth. “Sleep, baby. All I need is for you to heal up. Everything else can wait.”

  While it wasn’t funny that Hank had been hurt, his attitude during the whole thing kept cracking Ivy up. First he’d been loopy and sweet on the morphine. Now he was cranky and petulant because hospital regulations meant he had to leave the hospital in a wheelchair.

  Ivy tried to keep from laughing as the nurse gave her directions. “If you’d like to pull your car around, I’ll meet you at the front with Sheriff Merrow.”

  “I don’t need a wheelchair,” Hank groused.

  “Hey,” Ivy said. “Just be glad they let you put on the clothes I brought you, otherwise you’d be leaving in that pretty blue hospital gown.”

  He glared at her. “You were a lot nicer when I was on morphine.”

  She shot him a finger gun. “Right back at you.” Then she nodded at the nurse. “See you up front.”

  She slipped out and headed for the parking lot. Hank would have more to say when he saw she’d brought his GTO, but it wasn’t like she could take him home on the Harley. She pulled the sweet machine under the hospital’s covered entry just as the nurse was wheeling him out.

  Leaving the car running, she hopped out and went to open the passenger door.

  Hank’s face was screwed up into a mix of incredulous irritation and begrudging admiration. “Nice ride,” he said dryly.

  “You have no idea,” she said. “Well, I guess you do.”

  The nurse moved the foot rests out of the way. “You’re all set, Sheriff Merrow.”

  “Thanks.” As the nurse held the wheelchair, he eyed Ivy and slowly stood, his smirk telling her he wasn’t really upset. “You were probably just waiting for a moment like this.”

  She put her arm around him and helped him into the passenger’s seat. “Yes, I was hoping you’d get stabbed so I could drive your car. You figured me out.”

  She gave the nurse a wave, then shut his door, went around and got back behind the wheel. “Buckle up. This thing is fast.”

  Smiling, he shook his head. “I have a feeling I know why you married me.”

  She threw the shift into first and winked at him. “The car’s one reason. I’ll remind you about the other when those stitches come out.”

  He laughed, wincing. “That can’t be soon enough.” He looked over at her. “Charlie at home?”

  Ivy pulled out carefully and got them on the highway. “Yep. Birdie’s babysitting. She’s madly in love with that kid, but she still feels guilt
y for letting him out of the car. She blames herself for you getting hurt.”

  Hank shrugged. “Could have happened to anyone. I’ll talk to her.” He put his head back on the seat.

  “Tired?”

  “Only of being away from you and Charlie.”

  She reached over to pat his leg.

  “Hey, two hands on the wheel. Unless you want to park somewhere for a while.”

  Laughing, she managed to get them home without crashing. She pulled the car into the garage, parked it, then helped him out and up the steps with her shoulder under his arm on his uninjured side. “I hate to tell you this, but you’re supposed to be on bed rest for another twenty-four hours.”

  He grunted.

  “I’m serious.”

  “The doctor knows I’m a shifter so he should also know I don’t need twenty-four hours. And I hate bed rest. Unless you want to join me in the bed.”

  “That wouldn’t really qualify as rest then, would it?” She rolled her eyes and shook her head as she opened the door to the house. “Where do you want to set up?”

  Birdie’s and Charlie’s voices carried in from the living room. Hank hesitated. “What are they doing in there?”

  “Sounds like a video game. I didn’t know you had a system.”

  “I don’t.” He changed direction toward the living room. “Birdie must have bought one for Charlie.”

  Ivy helped him to the couch. Birdie and Charlie were too enthralled by the game on the screen to notice until Charlie finally won.

  He turned around and saw Hank, and his face lit up. “You’re home! Did you see me win Mario Kart?”

  Hank nodded. “You drive like your mother.”

  Ivy laughed as Charlie ran toward Hank, but she caught him and blew a raspberry into his hair. “No jumping on Hank until he’s better, okay?”

  He sighed with seven-year-old exasperation. “I know.”

  Shaking her head, she set him down.

  “I’m glad you’re home.” He approached Hank slowly. “Are you gonna be better soon?”

  As Hank answered him, Ivy turned to Birdie. “Everything good?”