How Beauty Loved the Beast

by Jax Garren

  As if reading her mind, Catrina added, “It’s sad when you have to go back a century to find somebody who’d approve of your lifestyle. I suppose you can relate.”

  Jolie shook her head uncomfortably. “Papa Marcel, my grandfather. He died this summer.” She rubbed her hand across her tattoo, a gesture that wasn’t lost on Catrina.

  “Ah. That explains a lot.” Catrina smiled warmly and squeezed her shoulder. “Well then.”

  Jolie returned the smile. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Hauk thinks everybody who lives topside is a target, so I was worried. Both of us do have a history with them.”

  Catrina’s smile melted into frustration. “You’re not interrupting. I dropped my sunglasses and I’m trying to retrace my steps. But don’t worry. I’ve been taking extra precautions.” She gave a significant glance back at Hauk. “I hope you have, too. I imagine you’ll have ’round-the-clock protection if you let a certain muscled beast with superpowers have his way.”

  Jolie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. He’s offered. Let’s look for your sunglasses.”

  Catrina stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. Violet eyes—Jolie was surprised her boss had bothered with her contacts this morning—took her in resolutely. “I hope you take that offer. Don’t be stubborn about this, Jolie. Not after Cassie.” Her hand moved to Jolie’s cheek, patting it lightly. “I don’t mean to sound like your mother, but you are one of my girls.”

  Jolie squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. ‘Please hop into bed with a felon for the next few weeks’ is, shockingly, not one of the things my mother ever said to me.”

  Catrina cackled in surprise.

  “Besides, you’re far too young and naturally gorgeous to be my mother.”

  “Incorrigible,” Catrina muttered, but she sounded somewhat mollified.

  The path from whence Catrina had come was filled with wildflowers. Jolie headed back that way, eying the bluebonnets for hints of the black Fendis Catrina never left home without.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want Hauk around. The problem was, she did. An amount that terrified her. The last twenty-four hours, even with their fight, had been some of the best ever. Despite their relatively brief acquaintance, Hauk knew her like nobody did. She felt so relaxed around him, it was easy to just fall into the moment and not think about the future or what sort of appearance she was giving off. Maybe the whole “just be” thing was a goal for some people, but a lifetime of formal events among Houston’s elite, alongside over a decade of ballet with its mirror-gazing precision, made that transparency terrifying. Wildly out of control, even.

  She wasn’t the kind of woman to turn her safety, her leisure time, her future plans—all the things that made her her—over to a man. And Hauk made her want to do just that.

  A spot of black amidst Indian Paintbrushes made her stop, and she kicked at the green with the toe of her pumps, just in case it wasn’t expensive plastic she’d noticed.

  Success. “Found ’em!” she called as she kneeled to retrieve Catrina’s sunglasses.

  A boot appeared from behind the gravestone to her left. Jolie scanned up black pants to steroid-sized biceps and a brainless grin.

  “Get Hauk!” she yelled and popped up to standing.

  The man wound back, as if to toss something at Catrina.

  Jolie knocked his elbow up, sending whatever it was flying off course.

  Catrina screeched and ran for the gate. Another man shot out toward her from behind a monument. The first guy grabbed Jolie by the waist and yanked, slamming her back into his concrete torso.

  She elbowed him in the jaw. He released her, and she sprinted toward Catrina’s assailant. As long as one of them got out, they’d be okay. Catrina could get Hauk.

  Jolie grabbed the second man’s jacket. He spun and swept a kick at her feet.

  She tried to sidestep; her skirt tacked her legs together. His foot hooked her ankle and she fell to the grass.

  The first man jerked her by the feet, dragging her farther into the graveyard.

  * * *

  Jolie was missing. Dammit. Had she said something about Catrina? Hauk had dodged the crowd and crouched between two vehicles parallel parked on the street. In all likelihood he was overreacting, but he didn’t like Jolie out of his sight. Especially not after Mercy had been attacked. His neck was still buzzing, and he didn’t know if it was a hangover or something new.

  They’d stopped the attack before anyone got needle-happy, but the evidence was in the man’s jacket. Fortunately, the other police wouldn’t ask as many questions when a fellow officer had been accosted on the street.

  In broad daylight.

  In front of a crowd.

  What the hell? Ananke was many nasty things, but discretion was usually one of their better traits.

  Screaming his name, Catrina came hauling ass out of the old cemetery. Being seen be damned, he popped up and ran to her. “Where’s Jolie?”

  Catrina folded in half, sucked in air and motioned behind her.

  “Get in your car and get out of here,” he ordered as he ran past the old gates.

  Nothing. No sounds, no flash of movement, nothing to tell him where in the forty acres of markers Jolie might be.

  A hop off a lower tombstone got him onto the massive Benson crypt. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the uncanny sensation in his neck, trying to pinpoint a direction.

  There. He opened his eyes. Two men had her by either arm as a third approached. She used the leverage of her captors to kick him in the chest with both feet.

  Good girl.

  The man on the ground pulled a needle.

  Hauk was going to be too late. Unless... He despised the berserker rages and the loss of control they entailed, but right now it was his best bet to get to her. No question then. “All-father, get your holy ass down here. We’ve got a woman to defend.”

  He leaped from the crypt. His gut ignited, burning from his center and radiating out as an unwelcome guest took up residence. The fire mellowed to an electric vibration that shorted out all thoughts but the mission. With Odin he was faster, stronger and more resilient.

  Better able to get to Jolie.

  * * *

  Jolie’s captors slammed her forward onto her knees then face down in the dirt. She tried bucking them off, but three on one was not going to go well, no matter how much of Hauk’s training she remembered. A needle pierced her skin, and she howled in anger.

  The pressure on her back released. A hideous crack of bone and a scream sliced off into silence.

  Jolie flipped over, yanking the syringe out of her arm. Full still; he hadn’t depressed the plunger. Relief flooded through her.

  The needle-wielding guy was dead beside her, his neck at an unnatural angle. Another’s head had made a bloody encounter with a headstone. She snapped her attention away from his crushed-in skull. Her final attacker backed up in terror.

  The hair on her nape prickled with fear. She peeked over her shoulder to where his gaze was fixated.

  Hauk advanced, his hoodie thrown back and the sunlight pouring full on his wrecked face. The fresh blood spattering his leather jacket was nowhere near as terrifying as the bloodthirsty expression that said he’d mentally checked out.

  The beast was in.

  Her last assailant tried to run, but Hauk caught him by the throat. With a quick twist of his wrists, the man joined his partners dead on the ground.

  Her nerves jangled in his unnatural presence. She tried to keep the fear from her eyes as Hauk faced her. Running was a terrible idea. Keeping calm was her best bet. “Well, there you’ve gone and killed them all, and you’ve got nobody left to play with.”

  His breath heaved in and out in erratic bursts. He shook his head as if to clear it and stared at her with one eye the normal blue and one grayed out. Like Odin, the god who possessed him in a rage, he only had one good eye in this state.

  He reached down to help her up, his lips moving until they finally managed, “Are you—” gulp
ing breath, “—okay?”

  Deciding it might be bad form to refuse a god, she took his hand. It was hot to the touch and vibrated with energy. “Yeah. They didn’t inject the formula. Nice timing. I take it you’re sorta in there?”

  He nodded, his head wobbling on his neck as he waved a hand to say, “so-so.”

  In the past, a berserk rage—a berserkergang, Hauk had called it when he’d tried to explain it to her in the hospital two weeks ago—took him over completely. He had no choice in his actions or memory of them afterward. But recently he’d discovered that if he called it on himself, he kept some measure of control and some dim recollections. He was still prone to more bloody violence than normal, which made sense as he had a Viking god sharing his head, but they “worked it out together more” was his exact quote.

  Thus far, Odin had at least let Hauk decide whom not to hurt. Even in a full-on craze he’d never done a thing to her, other than his tendency after the fight to cart her around like war spoils. A habit for which she’d endlessly teased him.

  It was unnerving to see him in this state. Freaky even. But no matter what, Hauk was still in there, and he’d saved her ass quite a few times as his alter ego.

  She stepped up onto a tombstone to see how much of the crowd was left at the gates. Maybe they should get Mercy, although she hated to involve her in hiding bodies. The dead were all Atropos, but until “magical lobotomy” was a recognized legal construct, ditching bodies was a great way to get a policeman into spectacular trouble.

  “Hauk...” Hauk was stacking bodies onto his arm. All three of them. At once. “What are you doing? We have to get rid of them.”

  He looked around at the graveyard, a hint of amusement on his face.

  She glared. Yes, ha-ha, there were a million dead bodies here. She mimed digging up a grave. “Not gonna work.”

  He stacked the last body and nodded at one of the few mausoleums hulking over the graves and marched.

  “They’re locked.”

  With a firm twist of his wrist the handle cracked past the lock.

  “Well, okay. That works. Unofficial Hamiltons they shall become.” She kicked the blood spatters on the ground and shivered at the gravestone with gore stains.

  Hauk came back out empty-handed and started rubbing dirt on the blood.

  She put her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I have no idea how to hide murder evidence. I’m utterly useless in this.”

  He laughed. After a moment of rubbing, the red was almost gone. The rest would probably soak in or disappear with a rainstorm, and nobody was looking for these guys anyway.

  She glanced back toward the street. “I think if we hold tight for another ten minutes it’ll be clear enough for us to get to my car unseen. I can drive you home.”

  Hauk’s voice was gravelly but amused as he asked, “Gonna carry me to it?”

  She’d forgotten about that. Once Odin got bored and left—usually after the fight, but sometimes he found something else amusing and stayed a bit longer—Hauk passed out for eight to ten hours to heal up his wounds.

  While she contemplated other options, Hauk swept her up into his arms.

  “Whoa. Again? Seriously?” She suppressed the desire to struggle as her feet left the ground. It wouldn’t do any good. “Don’t you dare throw me over your shoulder.”

  He shifted her back down to cradle her like a child and started toward a side gate.

  “You have a bad habit of toting me around when you get like this. Please tell me you are not walking us back to the Underlight. We’re too far.” Not that that had stopped him before. His endurance in this state was spectacular. As long as he was still active, he seemed to go forever.

  “My bike. This way.” His voice had the same timbre, but the cadence was different. Almost like English was his second language.

  “I can drive your bike.”

  He grunted.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. You can put me down, you know. I will walk with you.”

  He faltered.

  She pitched her voice as low and calm as she could. Panic typically made him clutch her tighter, no matter what she was saying. Calm made him listen. “I’m still yours, even if you put me down.”

  Reluctantly, he stopped and set her on her feet. His face scrunched as if he was listening. Then he shook his head and lurched forward again.

  “What?” she asked.

  “He likes you.”

  “Who? Odin? Odin the Pagan god likes me? He told you that in your head?” She hurried to catch up with him.

  He increased his stride as a blush tinged the back of his neck. “Yup.”

  “Uh, cool. Is that why you keep picking me up all caveman style? Odin’s whispering in your ear, compelling you to snuggle with the hot redhead so he can cop a feel?”

  He flipped her the bird. She laughed, feeling more relaxed around rage-Hauk than she ever had.

  Out a side entrance, Hauk’s bike was parked behind a bench. It was his pride and joy, specially designed for him by Tally and LaRoche to run on a cup of water instead of gasoline. Plus it looked damn sweet, in a junkyard-salvage sort of way.

  Jolie had driven it once. While not the fastest thing on the road, it responded like a dream and took corners like nobody’s business. She slid onto the front of the bike. “No offense to Odin, but I’m driving.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Hauk got on behind her.

  * * *

  We shall let the woman drive if it pleases her so.

  Hauk didn’t like anyone else driving his bike. The last time Jolie had done it, she’d gotten his tires slashed. But he pictured her happy and naked, and suddenly it was easy to let her have her way. As he wrapped his arms around her stomach, he felt an extra buzz of excitement. Mine, he mentally reminded his brain-partner.

  Yes. Ours.

  Before he could argue, adrenaline jolted him, putting him back on edge. Something smells wrong.

  Jolie threw the switch. The engine roared to life.

  He tossed her off the bike and followed.

  His bike exploded.

  A boom, and shrapnel blasted into his back and side. Heat blazed fast then evaporated. A small bomb. But enough to do a killing job.

  If they’d been on the bike.

  Jolie screamed in pain.

  Only then did he realize he’d only covered half of her. His hands shook as cold rage numbed him.

  A metal rod, the shock absorber coil, had embedded into her abdomen. Blood soaked her clothing, and burning scored the edges of the wound. Her breathing came out in gulping pain.

  “No, no. No,” he muttered. So much blood. The shaking moved inward, until he was trembling all over.

  His own body began its rapid healing as Jolie’s eyes rolled back. Small explosives ripping through people. Men died from this. He’d seen it too often in the war.

  We must move. Someone will have heard.

  He shook his head and dug in his pocket for his phone. Call 9-1-1. Get help. Too much blood. Had to fix it.

  We’ll get caught. You’ll go to jail.

  “Don’t care.” His phone was broken. He could go to the street. Get help from somebody. He didn’t want to leave her. She was crying. “Sh-sh. Baby, it’s okay. I got you. You’re going to be okay.” Was she? The bomb was meant for him, but it had gotten to her instead. He couldn’t lose her.

  We can take care of this. Give her cider. Cider was the food that made the Northern gods immortal. When they were sharing space, Odin transferred it to Hauk to heal his wounds. We can get it to her. Get somewhere safe. Give us free reign.

  Hauk pulled Jolie close to him. He never knew what Odin would do when he let him take over completely. The god was known for having his own agenda and not being entirely honest.

  But Jolie was limp against him. “Cold...” she murmured.

  That was it. “Please, please, please, baby. Hang on.” He kissed her lips. Her arms wrapped around him with feeble strength.

  He let Odin
take over.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jolie woke up to a world that was pitch black and smelled of dead things. But she was warm. And Hauk was with her. She’d been in so much pain. Now it was gone.

  She stroked up the ridges of his chest, feeling his skin through the cotton, reassuring herself it was, indeed, her boyfriend she held. “Hauk?” More touch to reassure her. “I know this sounds idiotic, but please wake up and tell me we’re not dead. Because if this is death, it sucks.”

  Her phone was in her pocket. She pulled it out, hoping to get some light. Surely death didn’t include her phone. But the screen was broken and the back was crunched in.

  “Mmmm...” Hauk said.

  She crawled on top of him. “Wake up. Where are we?”

  His arms tightened around her. One hand skimmed over her back then reached above her, as if feeling for the ceiling. He sat up, keeping one hand protectively wrapped around her head. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern filling his voice.

  “Yeah. I feel fine. So again, I gotta ask, you don’t think we’re, like, dead, right? Because I distinctly remember having a hole in my stomach.”

  His face buried against her shoulder, and he squeezed her so tightly she thought she might break. “Don’t. Do that. Again,” he growled.

  “No self-impaling? Check. Not on purpose, anyway. I pinky swear.”

  His arms loosened. “We’re not dead. Odin fixed you. I don’t know how. And I have no idea where we’re at. I blacked out. Feel the ground for a wall.”

  “Odin fixed me? I’m not going to ask.” He started to release her, and her heart beat faster in fear. “Can we stay together?” She flinched at how weak that sounded, unaccustomed to needing comfort. “Never mind. I’m cool.” But she was far from cool. She was downright terrified.

  He chuckled hollowly. “I’m sure you’re fine, sweetheart, but I’d feel better if you’d keep in contact.”

  Her shoulders loosened as she returned a manic laugh. “Okay. If it’ll make you feel better.”