She's the One

by Riley Ashford

  Queen Isolde had an iPhone. But she still dressed like she was freaking Marie Antoinette—with the powdered wig and everything.

  Cass's heartbeat was still erratic, and panic was threatening. It probably hadn't helped to think about doing those two hotties. She took calming breaths, and imagined that the organ was steadily beating, that it was healthy and whole. After a long moment, the rate stabilized. It was getting harder and harder to use that technique. Her heart had stopped listening to her Jedi mind tricks.

  If she didn't complete her assignment she was dead. Queen Isolde would send someone to finish Kirk and Cass. Even if she did manage to kill Kirk, Cass's heart could fail before she could get back to the court and go through the change.

  She chewed her bottom lip as she looked at the house. Inside was death for Kirk and redemption for her. Only she wasn't sure she wanted it anymore. Squatting in a tree, listening to the thunder roar as the air thickened with rainy intent, she was just tired.

  Her father had been black ops, part of a small group of agents who were in the deepest of the deep within the CIA. He'd demonstrated how she should protect herself, trained her to kill quickly and efficiently, and helped her shape perspective not only about the job but also about her own life. He showed her that mercy wasn't a weakness. Bradley Rogers had also explained one of the most important rules in the world of assassins: know when to get out.

  "Okay, Dad,” she said, blowing out a breath. “I'm out."

  The choice was clear now. The choice she should've made when the cardiologist gave her the bad news. I'm not meant to be here anymore.

  She still didn't know how Queen Isolde had found her. New Orleans had been one of her bases of operation, and that was where she'd gotten the diagnosis. The next night, the queen herself showed up and spouted off ridiculous crap like “I'm a vampire."

  Then she'd proven it. The queen had opened the door into a whole new world—a world in which Cass could live. And she had badly wanted to live.

  After a month of hanging out in the court, even with its occasional atrocities, she hadn't been turned off enough by the lifestyle to chuck it as an option. Just because other vampires acted like they owned the afterlife didn't mean she had to do the same. There were ways to ingest blood that didn't include killing innocents. She'd spent a good deal of her time putting bullets into skulls, but she'd chosen her jobs, and could say that most of her targets had been real dickheads.

  So thirty days with the vamps, and she'd figured she knew enough about them and werewolves to get the job done. It wasn't like she had forever to plan and execute. The doc hadn't been able to pinpoint exactly how long she had to keep breathing. Three months, if you're lucky, he'd said. I'm sorry.

  Now, that meant two months. Maybe. Probably less.

  She'd go somewhere with a beach, gorgeous men in Speedos, and fruity umbrella-laden drinks. Definitely someplace where sunshine was so plentiful, no vampire would even think of hanging out there. She'd soak in every moment until her heart gave out.

  She'd wasted enough time, damn it.

  The rental car was parked all the way down the hilly drive, and around the corner, tucked into a fast food lot. It seemed a hundred miles away, especially with the werewolves tracking her.

  Maybe they weren't. She'd injured the big dude badly. And his lover, angry as he was at her, seemed like the loyal type. He wouldn't leave his bedmate to chase after her.

  At least she hoped so.

  She'd stick to the trees until she got to the road. Then she'd run for it. Despite the doc's advice about exercising, she'd kept up her workouts. Her heart had survived the weight training and runs up till now, right?

  Rain burst from the thick morass of gray clouds, and she grinned. That would definitely help mask her scent. She climbed out on the branch, gauged the distance, and leapt.

  * * * *

  Erick loped back to the tree where Tarn still rested, and shifted into his human form. “Fucking rain."

  "You're not a pup,” rasped Tarn. “You know how to find prey during storms."

  "Yeah, if they're on the ground. She's in the goddamned trees.” Despite Tarn's protests, Erick helped the older man to his feet. “She's some kind of ninja gymnast."

  Tarn chuckled. “We need to find her."

  "We're going to the rental car and back to the hotel,” said Erick. He was mad. Mad that some chick had gotten the drop on them. Mad that Tarn had gotten hurt. Mad that he hadn't been able to find Miss Stab-and-Run. “Don't give me any shit about it."

  They'd wrapped their clothes in plastic, but still had to get dressed in the pouring rain. They were soaked to the skin by the time they'd made it to the road.

  "Why'd we park at McDonald's?” Tarn asked. He'd kept up the hurried pace Erick set, but it was obvious he was still dragging ass.

  "Can you make it, grandpa?” asked Erick.

  Tarn's dark eyebrows winged upward. “Grandpa?"

  "The way you're moving? Yeah. You kinda remind me of my gramps.” He glanced over. “You want me to go get you a walker? Maybe a cane?"

  "Fuck you.” Tarn started to run.

  Erick caught up easily. He knew that Tarn was still in pain; he was running to prove he could. Good. Erick needed his partner strong because they were going to find ninja girl ... and deliver some payback.

  When they jogged into the parking lot, Erick grabbed the car keys from Tarn and slid into the driver's seat. It said a lot about how his lover was feeling that he didn't even offer a token protest. The storm had definitely cooled things off, but the mix of heat and wet was making him itch for a shower and a beer.

  "Do you think she contacted Jaron?” he asked, half-hoping she had so that they could drop this insane mission.

  "We won't know her purpose for being there, or for trying to kill us, until we catch her.” Tarn took Erick's hand.

  Erick blinked at the rare sign of affection.

  "There's something I must tell you."

  Shit, shit, shit. Here was the moment when Tarn finally told him what was going on. The big something he'd been grappling with for the last week. Erick's stomach cramped. He had a feeling he wasn't gonna like the news.

  "The Tribunal has chosen a mate for us."

  "What?” Erick sucked in a steadying breath. “Who?"

  Tarn shook his head. “It doesn't matter. I went to Leona."

  "The mumbo jumbo lady? She's crazy."

  "She's our pack's shaman, and she has the sight. She told me you and I would find our mate when we went to kill the outcast."

  Erick felt like he'd been punched. “You knew? Even before the Tribunal made the decree?"

  Tarn's eyes begged for understanding. That was so weird, Erick could barely fathom it. T-man never asked Erick to understand anything. He just did whatever, and Erick followed along because he'd learned Tarn was nearly always right. He trusted him without question. Then a few pieces of this whole strange puzzle clicked into place. “You asked them for the job, didn't you?"

  Tarn nodded. “The Tribunal knew none of us would willingly kill Jaron. But I agreed only on the condition that you and I could choose our own mate."

  "This mystery woman?” Erick tried to yank his hand out of Tarn's, but his lover held on, refusing to release his grip. No wonder he'd been so moody. The motherfucker felt guilty. “We're supposed to be partners. Mates. You shouldn't have made this decision without me. You should've told me. Damn it, Tarn! We could've come up with a plan together."

  "I know. I didn't want...” Tarn swallowed. “I was afraid you would leave."

  Shock blasted through Erick's anger. “Leave? You thought I would leave you, and the pack, because the Tribunal assigned us a mate?” He gaped at him. “Are you on crack?"

  "You admired what Jaron did,” he said softly. “You said you were glad he told the Tribunal to go fuck themselves. You've made it clear that you hate the idea of bringing a female into our relationship, even though it's pack law. We must breed."

  "I'm not Jaron,”
said Erick. Had he really made Tarn feel insecure? He'd just been mouthing off, which he did all the time about everything, for fuck's sake. Maybe this time, he'd somehow struck a nerve. He'd never thought in a million years Tarn would be afraid of losing him.

  Of the two of them, Erick was the one who needed affection and reassurance. He wasn't a wimp; he just liked to know he was loved. Tarn never seemed to need confirmation about Erick's feelings. And because the jackass had feared the worst, he'd gone off and made the decision he thought would make Erick happy.

  Erick was caught between being really pissed off, and utterly amazed. He turned in the seat and looked at Tarn. “I love you, you stupid prick. I wouldn't leave you. I never want to leave you."

  "Okay.” Tarn looked relieved. “I suck, all right? But I didn't want us to marry Anea."

  "Anea? They paired us with her?” Erick blanched. Anea was the black widow of the pack. She'd had three husbands, all of whom had died. None at her hand; it was just weird that none of them had lived a year past their wedding dates. No one would mate with her, though some had taken her into their beds.

  Erick never considered himself the superstitious kind, but she still gave him the heebie-jeebies. Aside from the propensity of her husbands to kick the bucket, Anea also seemed to be barren. She'd never gotten pregnant, either within a marriage or during her bedroom romps.

  "She can have kids,” said Tarn, apparently following Erick's line of thinking. “She admitted to the Tribunal she used several birth control methods to prevent conception."

  "So, they want her to have two husbands? That way at least one of us will live and she'll have double the chance of breeding?” Disgust edged his voice. Anea was the last living child of the Delgato wolves. The warrior blood of her father flowing through her veins in combo with another warrior's bloodline would make strong children. And strong children meant a strong pack. Her bloodline, not to mention her beauty, was the reason three men had married her.

  "Had you asked me, I would've agreed that she's not our mate."

  "I'm sorry. I should've consulted you."

  Erick's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. “Did you just apologize? You never apologize."

  Tarn struggled to respond. Finally, he offered, “I'm sorry. Really damned sorry."

  "Shut up, pussy.” He leaned forward and kissed Tarn.

  "I know I don't say it, but you've made me the happiest I've ever been."

  "Okay. You're freaking me out. Enough with mush.” But he kissed Tarn again, and his whole body caught fire with need. He wanted to fuck him again, and then they'd both know for sure who loved whom.

  "Get in the back,” growled Tarn.

  Erick wasted no time climbing over the console and into the SUV's huge bench seat, but as he ripped off his T-shirt, he asked, “What about your injuries?"

  "Gone,” said Tarn as he settled next to Erick and took off his own T-shirt.

  Erick didn't have a chance to say another word. Now that Tarn had confessed his sins, his guilt—and his sexual reluctance—was gone. He shoved Erick down and covered him, kissing him roughly as he unbuttoned his jeans and freed his cock. Erick wriggled down his pants, not so easy since they were wet, and his damp ass squeaked across the leather seat.

  They laughed.

  "I missed you,” Erick breathed against Tarn's throat. He kissed his warm skin, flicking his tongue along the rough underside of his jaw.

  "I missed you, too.” Tarn tried to adjust his position. “God, this is uncomfortable."

  "You wanna go to the hotel to finish?"

  "Hell, no."

  Erick snorted. He ran his hands over the taut muscles of Tarn's back. Desire burned through him. It was so good to be in Tarn's arms, to feel his mouth raining kisses on his neck. “By the way, how are we supposed to meet her—this mate of ours? Do you think Jaron will introduce us before we rip out his throat?"

  "Don't be facetious. We've already met her."

  "Impossible. We haven't—” Erick grabbed Tarn's head and lifted it. Tarn's eyes narrowed. “The woman who tried to murder us? Are you fucking kidding me?"

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Four

  "I think she's our mate.” Tarn sighed, loosening his grip on Erick's cock.

  "She's human,” said Erick, wishing he could let it go and get back to the business of fucking. But damn, Tarn had lost his mind. He wanted to mate with the chick who'd tried to kill him.

  "We'll bring her to Leona."

  Erick's cock was totally flaccid now, and the mood had all but fizzled. Why had he opened his fat mouth? “Leona has the bite?"

  "It's not common knowledge,” said Tarn. “Not many wolves have the ability, and females are almost never born with the gift."

  "So. You want to track down our would-be murderer. Talk her into mating with both of us. Then take her to Looney Leona and turn her into a werewolf."

  Tarn nodded. “Yeah. That about sums it up."

  Erick stared at him for so long, he made Tarn uncomfortable enough to look away. His lover's gaze flickered toward the window; his eyes widened and he flattened against Erick.

  "Hey!” With Tarn's full weight on him it was hard to take a breath.

  "It's her,” Tarn whispered. “She's unlocking that green car a few spaces away.” He lifted his head and peered out the window again. “It's a Prius."

  "Quit digging your elbows into my chest.” Erick paused. “Prius? One of those hybrid cars? Our killer has an eco-conscience?"

  "Apparently.” Tarn looked down at Erick. “We'll go out on the left, circle our car from the back, and surprise her."

  Erick was all in. He hoped they were able to freak her the way she'd freaked them. He was a trained warrior, a fucking Kragen for wolf's sake, and it chapped his fur that a human female had gotten the drop on him. Frankly, if Tarn hadn't been so caught up in his own emotional angst, he would've never let Erick distract him. Erick was awesome in battle so long as someone else took the lead, and Tarn was a born leader.

  Tarn quietly popped open the door and slid out to the ground, crouching as he used the SUV for cover. Erick followed, shutting the door, and meeting Tarn at the bumper. They peered around. Three spaces down he saw the back end of the Prius. Only one car was parked between theirs and hers. It was a rusted Toyota, and not exactly big enough to hide them.

  "What's she doing?"

  Tarn shot an annoyed look over his shoulder. “Putting on lipstick? Shining her silver daggers? How the fuck do I know?"

  Erick rolled his eyes. “She should've taken off by now."

  "Let's take advantage of it. We'll go in fast,” said Tarn. “I'll take the back. You take the front."

  "She has a gun,” warned Erick. “Probably silver bullets, too."

  "Noted.” Tarn sent Erick one last look. “Go!"

  They took off. Tarn ran behind the parked cars, and Erick rounded the Toyota, and skidded to the side of the Prius. The woman looked up at him, her mouth rounded in an “O” of surprise.

  Naturally the doors were locked, so he bashed in the window. Glass shattered; his knuckles bloodied. He bared his teeth and growled. “Remember me?"

  He reached in and unlocked the passenger side door. He moved to restrain her, but she wasn't trying to fight. He realized then something was wrong. Her face was gray. Her shaking hand clenched a prescription bottle.

  "Erick!” Tarn waited on the driver's side, his gaze impatient. Erick unlocked the door. Tarn threw it open, reached in and pulled out the woman.

  "What the hell is wrong with her?” asked Erick. This wasn't the way he'd expected for things to go down.

  "I don't know.” Tarn pried the bottle from her hand and read the label. Then he opened the cap and poured out a pill, sticking it between the woman's blue lips.

  "Swallow,” commanded Tarn.

  Her eyes went wild, rolling into the back of her head, and she convulsed once before going limp.

  "That went well.” Erick exited the car. “Is she dead
?” He squatted on the other side of her and looked down, more surprised than worried. He hadn't forgotten she'd stabbed Tarn and tried to slice open his own throat.

  "Unconscious.” Tarn pried her mouth open and looked inside. “She managed to swallow the meds before she passed out."

  "What now?"

  "I'll put her in the SUV. You follow me back to the motel in the Prius."

  "Why do I have to drive the pussy car?"

  Tarn slanted him a look, but obviously decided the insult was too easy. He scooped up the girl and stood. “Get going, princess. Your sparkly green chariot awaits."

  "Oh, fuck you."

  * * * *

  Cass felt like she was swimming in black gelatin. From far away, she heard voices. Snatches of conversation filtered through the viscous darkness.

  "We should drop her off at the emergency room."

  "This is our woman, Erick. The gods won't take her from us."

  "Come on!” A pause. “How bad can Anea be?"

  "Shut up."

  * * * *

  Cass awoke in a cave. What the hell? She felt strange, as if she were as substantive as shadows. Lounging by the pit fire were two wolves. One was big and black, its dark eyes serious. The other was gray, its blue eyes filled with mischief.

  "They are yours,” intoned an elderly female voice. It bounced off the craggy walls, straight into Cass. Of course, she thought, I've been waiting for them.

  The wolves got up and padded to her, one settling on each side of her. She lay with them, their soft fur tickling her naked flesh. She sank her hands into their luxurious coats. Her body rippled with sensual awareness.

  Then each wolf gave a low, possessive growl, and licked her breasts.

  "No,” said Cass. But they wouldn't be denied. The black one put his paw on her rib cage, and his companion followed suit.

  Their broad, flat tongues tortured her breasts and nipples, making her tingle and ache.

  Then she felt a tongue lick up her neck, to her ear, and a male voice said, “You're beautiful."