Honor Bound (Wildcat Wizard Book 5)

by Al K. Line

  As I stared in the mirror for the first time in several months, I was pleasantly surprised by what I saw. I'd leaned out, although I was always lean, but in that way where you're skinny with loose skin. Now everything had finally tightened up. I was wiry, that's what I was. I looked strong, toned, even had abs, kind of.

  Not bad at all for an insomniac wizard in his forties who liked his fry-up and kept very irregular hours. But Candy was much younger than me and had a figure to die for. Would this suffice? Yes, it would. I'd never been fat, always tried to exercise, and I knew I looked better than a lot of dudes half my age. All the running away from the bad guys will keep a wizard in trim.

  I knew I was being hard on myself, overly critical, but I had standards and got severely pissed if I failed to live up to them. Same went for magic and everything else in my life. I expected too much so got disappointed when life didn't turn out how I wanted.

  Time to put that behind me, be more positive. As I peered closely at my face, dragged down the skin beneath my eyes, smoothed over the wrinkles and tried to tame my hair, I smiled. This was me, nothing I could do about it. A man with a face that showed the varied life he'd had, the life he enjoyed. And that was the most important thing—I enjoyed my life. I had my daughter, a couple of friends, okay maybe two, a faery godmother who had been suspiciously absent of late, and I had a super-hot shifter who seemed to like me.

  Awesome!

  So I checked my watch to see when I should get ready, then almost had a heart attack when I saw the time. Hell, I'd been in bed all day. I'd tossed and turned for an age, the usual routine, but must have dropped off eventually and slept for hours.

  Panicked, as I hated being late, and Candy wasn't the kind of woman to take kindly to being left waiting, I showered, argued with my hair again, and lost, again, dressed in clean combats, a new brown shirt, and rushed downstairs acting like a dizzy teenager.

  "Hey, George," I panted in a panic as I patted my pockets frantically.

  "Hey, Dad." George, most beautiful woman in the world, smiled sympathetically at me, her green eyes sparkling, her auburn hair shining like God himself had brushed it after he made her long curls out of fluffy clouds.

  "Ugh, where is it?" I moaned, getting stressed as I tried to remember where all my pockets were—a wizard needs lots.

  "It's where it always is. In your oh-so-secret pocket on the right side of your combats."

  "Ugh, yeah, right. Thanks." I reached down to the same pocket I'd reached into a million times and felt the reassuring hardness of my wand. Hell, what was wrong with me?

  "Big date, eh?"

  "Yeah, and I'm late. I'm never late. Damn, I'm all over the place."

  "You like her, huh?"

  "I guess," I said, distracted as I pulled out a spoon from a pocket I didn't know I had. "Here, have this. Gotta go." I gave a grinning George the spoon, rushed off, then turned and ran back, kissed her sweetly perfumed head and said, "Love you, honey."

  "Love you too, Dad."

  As I hopped about like an electrocuted frog trying to get my boots on, I could hear George's laughter from the kitchen.

  Then I was out the door, dodging chickens in the cobbled courtyard, and soon enough I was away, driving through country lanes so I could get to my barn, through the portal, make it to the city, and go meet Candy.

  The life of a wildcat wizard is never easy, especially with so many pockets.

  Date with Trouble

  I was in such a panic by the time I'd got to the city and dashed around the streets looking for my car—I think I got the right one but could never be sure—that as I buckled up and drove off, I realized I had no idea where on earth I was going.

  What were we doing this evening? Where were we meeting?

  I drew an utter blank.

  What should I do? Call Candy and ask her? No, bad idea, Arthur. You don't impress ladies by admitting you forgot where you were meeting, that does not lead to sexy times and sweaty bodies writhing in your bed. What it leads to is being hung up on and having to find somewhere else to get coffee.

  Fighting the urge to slam my head into the steering wheel and bang my hands against said head, I fought down the rising panic and told myself that I would not lose the plot. I would remain calm and cool.

  I failed miserably. Several minutes later, after I'd pulled over and ranted and raved and just beaten the shit out of the steering wheel as a safer compromise to using my head, I leaned back, sweating and gasping, and finally got a grip of myself.

  Think, Arthur, think. Where were you meant to meet this beautiful woman?

  Bar? No, don't like bars. Restaurant? Nope, that didn't ring a bell. Zoo? Idiot, it's the evening. What do people do in the evening? Cinema! Yes, that was it. The cinema.

  Fuck! Where was the cinema?

  I had absolutely no idea. I didn't go to the cinema, never had time. Plus, George had said the popcorn was really expensive.

  Finally, feeling like an utter fool, I caved and phoned George. She laughed at me, but I got the info I needed and headed off to an out-of-town complex that housed the cinema, chain restaurants and such-like.

  I parked up, ran across the packed car-park, my watch saying six thirty exactly, and skidded to a halt outside the entrance, smiling at my bravery and skills of deduction. Panting, I discreetly wiped myself down, as a sweaty date is not a pleasant thing.

  Five minutes later, I was tapping my foot impatiently and wondering why she was late. I went into the foyer and checked for her but there was no sign. So I sidled up to the board showing the times and stared blankly. There was nothing new starting until eight. Why had we arranged to meet so early? A drink first maybe? I wasn't sure, this was her idea.

  I checked my phone but there was no missed call, then I scrolled through my messages and read the one from Candy confirming our date, and the time.

  "You fucking idiot," I whispered to myself, as there were kids around, chattering manically as they emerged from the movie theater.

  Angry with myself, I wandered outside to get some air, and read the message again.

  "See you at seven thirty, hot stuff."

  Bollocks. I was an hour early. Then I read the bit about hot stuff again and smiled.

  At least I wasn't late, that had to be worth a gold star, right?

  A Pit Stop

  The movie was crap, the company was awesome. I spent most of the grueling two hours fifteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds staring at Candy. She didn't seem to notice, was engrossed in the humongous screen.

  Outside, with the sky dark, or as dark as you get in a crowded metropolis, the neon glaring from the "restaurants," Candy said, "Fancy a coffee at mine?"

  My heart leapt and I gulped then said, "That sounds nice," and walked her to my car as fast as I could without seeming too eager. She'd got a taxi, which was a good sign, so things were looking up.

  Candy gave me directions and I obeyed without thinking, my focus on what was to come.

  "I saw you looking, you know?" she said, her eyes dancing with mirth when I glanced her way.

  "Don't know what you mean?" I said, acting all casual as is my way.

  "During the movie. You kept looking at me."

  "Only because you're beautiful."

  "Charmer," she said, then chuckled. "Take a right here, then first left, then another right."

  I did as I was told, mind elsewhere, then she said, "Here we are. Don't know why you needed directions though." She looked at me funny, and as I pulled up and turned off the engine it was only then that my mind clicked into gear and I realized where I was.

  "Your cafe? Um, yeah, great."

  "Oh, haha, when I said fancy a coffee you thought I meant my place?"

  "Um, yeah, kinda."

  "We can go if you want? I, er, sorry, I didn't think. Was just making a night of it, thought it would be fun. I've never been here late, never opened up just for a guy I like."

  "Honestly, don't sweat it. It's a great idea, very nice. Come on, let's
go drink coffee by candlelight and I can stare into your eyes and you can count my wrinkles."

  "Okay, old man, let's do it."

  We held hands, crossed the quiet road, and headed for Candy's tiny coffee shop wedged between two tall buildings like a squashed box.

  I hadn't had this much fun in ages. Not since our last date. I didn't once think of what Ivan wanted me to do. About Vicky or George or anything but my own happiness, so, as I thought that I felt guilty. Damn, it was all right to have fun, wasn't it? I hadn't done stuff like this for so long it was hard to know how to do it.

  Candy squeezed my hand as we walked and asked, "You okay?"

  "Great, absolutely great." I returned the squeeze and felt her warm fingers tight against mine.

  Nice.

  Candy slid her hand free, our fingers playing their own games, the tips electric as they touched for a moment before we released, and she smiled at me as she unlocked the door. Goddamn, she was so awesome. Inside, she moved expertly to the back and switched on the machine in the dark then came back with two red candles that she placed on the counter. The red light made her look even more alluring, highlighting her cheekbones, dark shadows where her body curved.

  We stared at each other, the tension rising, dare I say smoldering, saying nothing until the hiss of the machine broke us from our dreams of naughtiness. Candy busied herself making coffee and I could tell by her haste that things were hotting up. Me, I was on fire. The last thing I needed was coffee.

  She placed two espressos down on the counter and winked. "Thought something quick to drink would be a good idea. Hey," she said, as if the idea had just come to her, "I haven't seen your house yet."

  "That's right," I said, smiling, "you haven't, have you? Wanna see?"

  "Ooh, yes please."

  I was burning up. The candlelight, her sparkling eyes, her golden hair, her smell, the aroma of coffee, and the caffeine that hit as I downed my drink in a few sips, it was all getting too much.

  The bell above the door rang and spoiled it all.

  Bugger.

  Who Me?

  "Kill the old fucker first," said a very handsome man a moment after he flicked on the lights. "And hurry up, I've got things to do." He stared at us, then seemingly as an afterthought, said, "Oh, hey, Candy."

  He ran a hand through typical hipster style hair, rubbed his shiny beard, and stepped confidently into the cafe. Two similarly styled guys with the usual smart but casual gear and hair, plus the beards waxed to within an inch of their hairy lives, fanned out best they could in the poky room and advanced on me, grinning like the twats they were. Dead twats soon enough.

  "You ruined my date," I growled. I turned to Candy and she was stiff as a rod, clenching her teeth and looking like she was trying not to appear scared. "Friends of yours?"

  "No. Best you leave, Arthur. This isn't your fight."

  "Arthur here isn't going anywhere. Like I said, he's going to die, then you. Teach you both a lesson."

  "I'm good," I said. "I don't need any lessons, and trust me, there's nothing you can teach me. What's this all about?"

  "None of your business," the guy snapped as all three reached us.

  "You just made it my business. We were having a nice time, you spoiled it. We had candles."

  "Sorry, but the date's over, grandpa."

  Grandpa? The cheeky git.

  I leaned over the counter, slowly blew out the candles, then asked Candy, "You okay? You want me to kill them?"

  "No, this isn't your problem. It's mine. I'll deal with it."

  "You sure?"

  "Oh," she said, licking her lips, "absolutely." With that, Candy dropped down behind the counter so the guys couldn't see, but I was still leaning right over so I got an excellent view as she ripped off her blouse, yanked off her shoes and jeans, then dropped to all fours, all within a second. Oh boy, she was incredible on a level I hadn't even dreamed of.

  Her body cracked and groaned and bits blunted as others sharpened. Hair changed, grew all along her back and then her entire body, and her underwear slipped off her as she shrank to the size of a very nice looking Border Collie. Shame she hadn't taken the underwear off first, but you can't have everything you want.

  I turned and said, "Look, guys, I don't know what this is about, but can't we—" I was rudely interrupted by a punch to the face, which I saw coming but let happen for one simple reason. While the leader of this small group of misfits was hitting me he wasn't doing much of anything else, so as his fist was busy connecting with my face, I was busy pulling out my wand.

  My head snapped back with the punch but I stayed exactly where I was, which took the guy by surprise.

  "You finished?" I asked.

  "Just getting started, mate." He stared at me for a moment then asked, "Who are you?" and I saw a flicker of if not recognition then a recalling of a story or two about me.

  "I'm the fucking Hat, asswipe." I grinned, licked the blood trickling from my nose, and said, "Look down."

  His eyes lowered to where my wand was sticking into his belly, the shock registering. He knew what it was. Which meant he was from the supernatural world, and my guess was, as this was the style most assumed at this time, he was one of the Wild Ones. Shifters.

  "Candy?" I didn't want to kill him without her say-so, and she'd said she'd deal with it, plus I was still clinging to the hope of sexy times later on.

  Right on cue, a set of paws appeared on the counter and the rest of her soon after. For a moment, Candy stood immobile, a lovely collie but with canines bared. She growled and snapped at the air; my attention was diverted.

  The dude took several steps back, away from my wand, and his guys followed suit.

  Before I knew what was happening, they were all mostly naked and shifting into one animal or another. We had a mangy looking dog, a fox, and the main guy became a large Labrador.

  Shit was about to get real.

  Wowzer

  I'd heard all about Candy's reputation. She was, sorta, kinda, a bit like the leader of a group of Wild Ones. They worked together, they played together, and they fought others. Some, make that most, shifters were unstable, violent, and unable to control themselves in the slightest once in animal form. They lost themselves to the creature within and it was only once the fight was over and the threat eliminated that they came back to themselves.

  Candy's group was a little different in that they were smart, helped each other out, and were the go-to people for those in the know who wanted a certain kind of protection, or jobs done that fell somewhere between "utterly illegal" and "could get you killed."

  Guess I like my women with similar interests to my own. Plus, she was hot and ran a nice cafe.

  So I shouldn't have been surprised at the level of violence she showed, but I was. I was taken aback by the ferocity of her and the others as they fought as true animals. Wild, with utter abandon, fearless, and unwilling to back down. It put my shenanigans to shame.

  Candy may not have been the largest, but she was the best fighter by a long shot.

  She sprang from the counter, using my shoulders to leap directly into battle. I was pushed back hard against the counter as she launched, and it was there I remained.

  My sweet date landed on the back of the fox, not much smaller than her, and simply bit down hard on the back of its neck. She tore away flesh and fur with a ragged whipping of the head that made me wince. The fox yowled like it had been caught by a pack of hunting hounds and then its feet splayed out. It died moments later as Candy tugged a mouthful of flesh from its neck and spat it away like it was poison.

  Without pause, Candy leaped straight at the much larger Labrador and went right for the throat. The lab was fast and whipped its head around just in time. Their jaws snapped and shook as they grabbed each other's muzzles in a ferocious display I knew from experience could lead to serious injury, even death. But they untangled their teeth from each other and Candy whipped around as the lab retreated to gather itself. She tore into
the other dog, a thick-furred mongrel, before it knew what was coming.

  Candy was all animal, little human left inside as she fought. It was without malice or compassion or anything but the primitive drive to survive. She nipped at the belly of the dog as it whimpered and skidded on the tiles and slipped onto its side. The cries of a dog in distress are disturbing like no other noise I have ever heard. There's something about it that gets right to your most basic emotions, and part of me wanted to rush forward and save the poor creature. But this wasn't my fight, Candy wanted to deal with this the way the Wild Ones did. They all knew what they were getting themselves involved in.

  With a final vicious shake of her head, she split the soft flesh covering the abdomen of the fallen dog and then, as guts spilled out, she clamped down tight on its throat and shook in a death grip that nothing could make her release. The dying dog's eyes turned up in its head until only the whites could be seen and then it was over. She released and yowled as the Labrador sank its teeth deep into her rear, spinning in pain and shock, shucking off the creature as she did so.

  This was all so fast, so utterly manic, that it was hard to follow the action, but I was entranced, mesmerized by this most violent and base of displays. Was this how I looked when I fought? Did I lose all control and act on instinct alone? I guess I did.

  Being in the middle of a fight is a beautiful thing in its own way. You are consumed by the moment, think nothing of friends and family, of the wider world, are focused like a laser on your next move and that of your opponent, on survival. Everything is compressed until all that exists is the movement of your own body and that of your foe, the adrenaline surging then peaking as you rain down bloody hell on them and try to stop them doing the same in return.