Her Werewolf Hero (18 page)

“Ah. Oh.” She tapped a perfectly manicured finger against her cheek. “I had thought that one had taken a human lover. A sin eater, in fact. Heard things like she had softened him, actually made him feel.” To Kizzy she said, “Soul bringers are quite without emotion. They were once angels, you see. Fallen specifically to ferry the dead, day in and out. Seems a tedious job.”

“So the soul bringer has a lover or girlfriend who is human?”

“It's what I've heard about him. I thought it was true. Well, no matter. But you know, darling...” She clasped her hand warmly over Kizzy's hand. “The soul bringer can take out a person's heart without killing them. Something to think about should worse come to worst.”

“I don't understand. If someone takes out my heart, I'm pretty sure I'm dead.”

“No. The soul bringer's magic can give you life. It could be very similar to the life you have now. You might never notice you're missing your heart.”

“But I want my heart. In my chest! It is mine.”

“Yes. And why give it away just to save your life, eh?”

The witch stood and leaned over to kiss Bron on the cheek. “As I've said, I was previously occupied when you two arrived.”

“We should be going.” Bron stood. “Thank you, Eglantine, for the protection spell.”

“It will make the two of you invisible to any wishing you harm. But as for the soul bringer, well, I'd start to panic after twenty-four hours. That's about as long as I suspect my magic will hold against one so powerful.”

“It'll give us time to make a plan,” he said. He took Kizzy's hand as she thanked the witch. And they found their way out of the witch's estate.

And found themselves standing before a ramshackle cabin on a dark and miserable night. Rain spattered the overgrown weeds and vines. Bron gripped Kizzy's hand as they ran to the truck.

Chapter 19

R
ain pummeled the windshield. The flick of the wipers made a rhythm in the absence of music on the radio. They didn't talk much on the way to the motel. Bron's thoughts were occupied with what Eglantine had said about the soul bringer having a human lover. Could he somehow use that against the soul bringer? It wasn't as though he had the stomach for ripping out the lover's heart and taunting the soul bringer with it. An eye for an eye? No innocent should ever be involved in such devious means. Though he could have no clue if the lover was involved in the quest for Kizzy's heart.

It had been good to see Eglantine again. Such a glamorous woman, and she wore her age well. She must be in her eighties. He loved that she wore the hag glamour to answer the door and kept her home warded as a decrepit old cottage. Kept away curiosity seekers.

He had led a blessed life and had gained many friends and lovers over the years. He regretted the affair that had shattered his marriage, but then he had been young and foolish. Claire truly had been much better off without him.

Poor Claire. He'd buried her heart and said goodbye to her. The very last person she may have wished to touch a part of her was him. That he'd found himself keeper of her heart—in the worst manner possible—must be serving her some crazy karmic backlash. Because he did believe she had been the one to put Isabelle out on that cold winter night.

And now there was Kisanthra Lewis, the pretty woman who dozed on the passenger seat beside him, who could stand up to hags and harpies and did not back down from a vampire. Could he welcome Kizzy into his life? For a little while? He had never thought of a woman in terms of spending time with her for months, even years. That he'd like to have her in his life for more than a few nights of sex and companionship was a given. In all his decades he had never met a woman who had given him such a thought. And that was remarkable. If a little unnerving to his established routine of living alone and free.

Kizzy could follow him across the world as he fulfilled his missions. She, taking photos, and he—well, he wasn't exactly following orders now, was he?

Find and finish.

Eglantine had mentioned it. And in that moment he'd noticed Kizzy's attention rivet to the witch. With hope, she'd not remember what had been said, and he could move on. Because he hadn't been ordered to find and finish. Yet. Deactivation was the same process. He wouldn't fool himself on that. There had to be a way to fulfill the mission
and
keep Kizzy alive.

Eglantine had mentioned the soul bringer could take out her heart without killing her. Hmm...

Once at the motel, he carried a drowsy Kizzy into the room and set her on the bed. She curled into sleep, and he pulled off her shoes and then he got undressed.

“Thanks,” she whispered as he snuggled next to her. “For everything.”

She slid her body against his, and he shivered at the heat of her and pulled her close. He slid a hand up under her shirt, caressing a breast and stirring a wanting moan from her.

Kizzy unbuttoned her jeans and shimmied them down and off. She put a leg over his hip, and with a bend of her hand, directed his cock inside her. He pumped slowly, eyes closed and their mouths touching and then not. Climax wasn't important. Falling asleep inside her meant the world to him.

* * *

The soul bringer couldn't find that bedamned black familiar. Had it left the area? Something was up. And he didn't know how to use social media. Those tiny buttons on those tiny devices. Ah!

He'd thought sending the werewolf's heart in a box would have lit a fire under the Retriever. Apparently, he needed to try a new tack.

Time to face his only hope for Nova's salvation.

* * *

Kizzy woke to sunshine and an amazing realization. “Bron!”

He stood in the bathroom and leaned back from the sink, toothbrush wielded near his mouth. He was naked, and his cock was half-mast. What a teasing image to wake to.

But her dream! No werewolves this time, only a witch and a promise.

She scrambled off the bed and into the bathroom. “The witch said the soul bringer can take out a person's heart without killing them.”

She clasped her fingers over her heart and nodded encouragingly at him.

Bron eyed her a few seconds, then shook his head. “Don't even think about it, Kizzy. You wouldn't be the same. I'm not sure how, but—”

“No!” She grabbed his toothbrush and kissed him, getting a peppermint-laced squishy kiss. “Your wife.”

He swiped his mouth and took the toothbrush from her, rinsing it. Then he leaned a palm on the vanity and eyed her fiercely. Things were going on in his brain. She liked watching him think. Then suddenly, he reached the same conclusion as her.

“You think?” she asked.

“It's possible. It didn't occur to me...” He looked in the mirror briefly, then grabbed a clean towel from the rack on the wall.

“She could still be alive. If the soul bringer took out her heart without harming her—”

He cut her off with an abrupt, “I need to think about this, Kizzy.”

“Yes, do that.” Sensing the sudden wall he'd put up, she clasped her arms across her chest. He was disturbed by the idea of his wife possibly being alive, she could sense it. “You going to shower?”

He nodded, but she could tell his mind was deep in thought, and if she invited herself into the shower he probably wouldn't even notice her. There were far greater things to concern himself with now.

She kissed him quickly and left him in the bathroom.

Fear that some strange creature would come knocking on her door was gone. With the witch's protection spell she could relax. She plopped onto the bed and picked up her camera. She regretted not taking photos last night. What a unique experience. Tea with a witch!

But elation aside, she had to focus. If the protection spell only lasted twenty-four hours, they had work to do. Like find the soul bringer. She tugged the laptop onto a pillow and opened it up. A search for Blackthorn Regis didn't bring up anything, save a few references to Regis Philbin. Completely wrong guy.

She wondered if Bron had access to a secret online network that cataloged paranormal creatures. Wouldn't that be cool? Surely the Acquisitions place he worked for must have a computer database.

On the nightstand, his cellphone rang. She eyed the iPhone, knowing she shouldn't answer. It would go to message. Maybe? Queen of discretion, she was not.

She grabbed it. The screen simply read
Director
. Bron had mentioned something about a director. His boss?

Without thinking, she hit the answer button and said hello and asked to take a message because Bron was busy.

“Since when does Everhart have a secretary? Who is this?”

“Kisanthra Lewis.”

“I see. I thought he had finished that job. Where is he? Why are you answering his personal phone?”

“I'm sorry, I—”

The bathroom door opened, and Bron strolled out in a mist of steam.

“I'm sorry I answered your phone.” Kizzy handed it to him. “It was a reflex action. It's your director.”

He snatched the phone so rudely she tugged her hand away and clutched it to her chest. Feeling as if he'd just struck her, she filed into the bathroom and closed the door. So she probably shouldn't have answered his phone. But he didn't need to be a jerk about it.

Grabbing a towel for the shower, she muttered to herself, “Give him a break. He just buried his wife's heart and said goodbye to her, and now there's a possibility she could be alive.”

He must be going through hell. She'd cut him some slack.

After a long, hot shower, she towel dried her hair and slipped into her jeans and a clean T-shirt from the things she'd packed while at the apartment. Bron was not out in the room, but the rental truck was still parked outside the door. He must have gone for a walk or, she hoped, to scavenge for some breakfast at the diner across the parking lot.

And, yep, there he was, striding toward their room with a food bag in hand.

“Gotta love that guy. Wolf. Werewolf. Wow. I'm dating a werewolf.”

Maybe. Or it could just be a fling. Of which, she was okay with a fling. She didn't need to get serious. And Bron didn't seem in a position to get serious with anyone, especially with the looming possibility his wife could very well be alive.

What would a reunion bring about? Would they hug and forgive one another and resume life as a married couple? It had been over a century and a half. Surely, Claire had moved on, as Bron had suspected. Did the law even allow for marriage vows to remain intact after such a long separation? She felt inclined to Google that, but the warm breeze beckoned her to remain in the open doorway.

Bron spied her waiting and lifted the bag. “Pancakes and sausage.”

“Great. I'm hungry. You think we can go back to my rental today? Since we've got the witch mojo thing going? I'm all about clean sheets and water pressure.”

“Yes, we should. In fact—” he handed her the bag and patted his pocket for his phone “—I should give Certainly Jones a call. He works in the Archives. Keeps records of anything and everything paranormal. He'll be able to tell me what I'm dealing with. Let's eat, then head into town.”

Half an hour later they rolled down the main street toward the city center. And Kizzy dared to speak about what had been niggling at her all morning. “I'm sorry about taking that phone call, but your director didn't seem very happy with me.”

“It's unprofessional to allow someone to use my phone. I should have said something to you.”

“No, it was my fault. It was common courtesy that I should have let it ring through to message. But he said something about finishing the job. And then I remembered Eglantine said something about your mission being find and finish. I thought you said your mission for the Purgatory Heart was find and seize? So I take it that has changed? And if so, are you supposed to finish me?”

His fingers clenched about the steering wheel, and his jaw pulsed. She wasn't about to let him clam up this time.

“Bron?”

“I was given orders to deactivate the heart,” he hissed abruptly. Nothing else. No eye contact. Attention fixed on the road before them. They crossed the bridge that passed over the Red Lake River.

“I see.” Kizzy swallowed and drew up her legs before her chest to clasp them tightly. “When are you going to do it? How? Oh, don't answer that one.”

“I'm not going to do any such thing.”

“But you just said—”

“I promised I would not harm you, Kizzy. And I meant that. Have you so little opinion of my honor that you actually believe I could do such a thing?”

“Sorry. But if it was an order...?”

“I'll have to figure a way around it.”

“Why not tell your director that you don't kill?”

He winced.

“I see.”

Because he was not a man who lied easily. And he'd probably had occasion to kill over the years. She'd witnessed as much already. He'd killed the wraith in self-defense, as well as a handful of harpies and vampires. If he had let them live, they could have harmed others. So it had been a good call, right?

Kizzy pulled up her backpack from the truck floor and hugged it to her chest. She wanted to be home. Even if it wasn't her actual home, the rental in town felt like someplace safe and familiar.

And for just a few blessed moments, she would really like to have never heard of werewolves and witches and soul bringers.

* * *

Bron followed Kizzy into the apartment, and before she could veer down the hallway and retreat, most likely from him, he pulled her in for a long hug. He wanted her to know he was there for her.

“You can trust me,” he said as his fingers glided through her soft hair, clutching and caressing. “I don't want you to fear me.”

She nodded against his shoulder. He sensed an utter lack of trust in her.

“Kizzy, I need you to know that I care about you. I've never felt this way about a woman before.”

“Really?” When she looked up to him, a tear glistened in her eye.

He touched the tear, and it spilled down her cheek. “Did I do that?”

“Maybe. I don't know.” She chuckled softly and sniffed away another tear. “I think I've hit the wall with all things creature and crazy. I really... I need a little time to myself. I want to wash my face and—whatever. Go ahead and use my laptop. Will you give me some time alone?”

“I will. Do you want me to leave the apartment?”

“No,” she said quickly. “Just give me an hour to get right with the world, okay?”

“Do whatever you need to do. I'm not going anywhere. Promise.”

“Thanks.”

Bron wandered out to the living room and stood before the window. Looking out at the sky, the buildings faded out of his peripheral vision. It wasn't even noon, but he could see the shadow of the moon in the sky.

“Tonight,” he whispered. “I'll need to have sex all evening to keep back my werewolf.”

It couldn't have happened at a less opportune time. With a soul bringer after Kizzy's heart, he had to be on his game. He had named himself her protector, and he would do just that. No one was going to touch her heart.

But what sort of challenge would a soul bringer present?

He tugged out his cell phone and scrolled through the contacts until he found Certainly Jones's number. CJ was a dark witch based in Paris. He headed the Council's Archives, which was basically a keeper of all paranormal knowledge and the mother branch that headed Acquisitions. Some muttered that Acquisitions was the Archives's dirty little secret. But the Archives' contents didn't simply arrive, waiting to be filed and collated. Someone had to obtain the stuff, by trick or by trade. Oftentimes, more violent methods were employed.

If CJ didn't have an answer, he could look it up for Bron. He'd helped him numerous times over the years when Bron went up against creatures about which he had no clue.