Lycan on the Edge: Broken Heart Book 13 (10 page)

under the comforter, and closed her eyes.

The last thing she heard was the snick of the

light switch being turned off and the rustle of

sheets as Trent joined her.

“YOU WANT ME to what?” asked Meckenzie.

“Be the key to unlocking Broken Heart,”

repeated Ena the Evil.

“I thought your big, bad monsters were going to

crash through its barriers and—how did you put it?

—oh yeah, crush your enemies.”

“I’ve opted for a more subtle approach.”

Ha. Ena wouldn’t know subtle if it bit her on

the ass. The truth was that Ena had been freaked

out since she’d found the first Alberich she’d

raised in Oregon dead as a fucking doornail.

The weirdest thing, though, was that he’d been

turned to stone and broken into pieces.

Now

Ena

was

worried

that

she’d

underestimated Broken Heart’s security measures.

Apparently, the know-it-all didn’t actually know it

all. The fact that an Alberich could be killed hadn’t

hindered Ena’s plot, but the witch decided to re-

assess the situation. The easiest way for her and

her monsters to get into town was to have someone

unlock the door, so to speak, from the inside.

That would be me.
Meckenzie stared at the

campfire. What she wouldn’t give for a hotel room,

a hot bath, and a bottle of Jack Daniels.
Day

eleventy-hundred of being Ena’s bitch.
God, she

was tired of the witch’s bullshit. Being a thief was

one thing. She could live with that. Being the

asshole who started a parakind war? Not so much.

“Do this one thing for me, and your mother’s

soul is yours.”

Meckenzie had heard that promise before.

“You’re only saying that because you’re hoping I’ll

get killed before you have to honor your word.”

“So what? I mean it this time.”

“Then take the witch’s oath.”

Ena grimaced, but she pulled her personal

book of shadows out of her rucksack. “C’mon. Put

your hand on it.”

Meckenzie did so with some amount of

trepidation. Ena draped her fingers over

Meckenzie’s and said, “I hereby give my oath to

release Mary Braith’s soul to her one and only

daughter, Meckenzie, after she fulfills the bargain

made to me this day.”

She looked up at Meckenzie. “Do you swear to

gain entrance to Broken Heart and allow me and

the Alberich to enter the town unimpeded?”

“I swear.” As if she had any real choice in the

matter.

Meckenzie tried to wiggle out of Ena’s grasp,

but the witch clamped her hand down pressing her

palm painfully against the bumpy ridges of the

book’s cover.

“Your life is forfeited if I do not succeed.” Her

grin showed pure evil. “So mote it be!”

Black magic curled up from the book and

twisted around Meckenzie and the witch’s hands.

Heat blazed from the strands. It felt like Meckenzie

was being branded. But she didn’t scream.

Wouldn’t give Ena the satisfaction.

Finally, when she could, Meckenzie yanked

away. Her skin looked normal. No burns or

blisters. “What the fuck!”

“Oh for—there’s no pleasing you! You should

be happy I made the bargain.”

“Color me thrilled,” Meckenzie said through

gritted teeth. She curled her hands into fists and

pressed them against her sides so she wouldn’t

punch Ena in the throat. “Get going,” said Ena.

“Sure. I’ll just lope out of the forest and hitch a

ride to an invisible town in nowhere Oklahoma.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Ena’s gaze burned into

hers. “Don’t fail me. Your life depends on it.”

Meckenzie flipped her the bird, and marched

away, hunching her shoulders as though that would

stave off the witch’s cackle.

Evil sucked.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE SOFT RAIN pelted the Oregon forest, and

Sophie lifted her face to enjoy the light splash of

water on her skin. She’d been out here for a

couple of hours and had gathered numerous

herbs and flowers. The trip had been a good one,

and she found herself enjoying the bounty of

nature. Being alone here, now, was pure freedom.

The smells of wet earth and the sharp scent of

pine infiltrated her senses.

She couldn’t resist.

She undressed, placing her clothes in the

waterproof backpack she’d brought with her to

store the herbs and her lunch.

It took only a few moments to shift, and then

she was a wolf.

She explored the forest with all her senses,

yipping happily, romping. She followed the

myriad of scents that abounded in such a

spectacular place. Refreshed, she loped toward

the spot where she’d left her things.

Solid, hot pain struck her back, and she

flattened against the earth, howling in agony.

She hadn’t smelled, heard, or seen anything,

but as she scurried on all fours and limped away,

the attacker appeared before her.

The creature lifted its massive head and

screamed. In its clawed hand was a silver blade

like none she’d ever seen. It looked like some

crazy fire poker with a narrow end and two

slightly curved attachments. She could smell the

singed fur and burned flesh.

Pain shuddered through her, but she kept her

feet.

The creature swung its weapon once more,

and somehow she found the strength to snarl. She

snapped at it and sank her teeth into its calf.

The monster’s bellow echoed through the

forest.

It fell to its knees and then sideways, its cries

fading as the light went out of its dark eyes.

Sophie fell onto her side, panting, trembling.

Painful as it was, she began the shift.

Then she heard a cracking sound.

“Sophie. Sweetheart? C’mon. It’s all right.”

Sophie woke up, her heart racing.

Trent lay next to her, his fingertips resting on

her forehead. The lamp had been turned on, and the

low light shined on the twisted covers.

“You’re okay,” he said.

“Nightmares.” She sat up, her body shivering.

“Ever since the Alberich attack.”

“You want to tell me what happened?”

“I don’t know.” Sophie put her face on his

shoulder, accepting his comfort gratefully. “He

attacked. I bit him on the calf. And…then I passed

out.”

Trent stilled. Then he gently took her chin and

tilted her head. “Did you kill him?”

“How could I? When no one else ever has.”

“That’s not entirely true.” Trent brushed

strands of hair off her face. “There was a weapon,

of sorts. It’s how we rid the world of them the first

time. Or at least we thought we had.”

He traced a line from her temple to her chin,

and Sophie felt electrified.

“Trent.” His name echoed with her need for

him.

He laid her on the bed and rolled to his side.

His fingers trailed down her arms. She shivered at

the light touches. When his hand coasted down to

her thigh, she let out a soft moan.

“I want you,” he said. “So much.”

Her answer was easy. She sat up and took off

her shirt. Her pink lace bra was a thin barrier, and

hunger licked at her when she saw Trent’s gaze

darken. He cupped her breasts, sweeping his

thumbs over her hardening nipples. She discarded

the bra, baring her breasts for him.

“You are truly magnificent,” he said. The

evidence of his desire strained against his jeans.

Pleased, she lay back down. His hands slid

down her abdomen, and he unbuttoned her jeans.

She shoved them off her hips, throwing them to the

floor.

Trent took off his clothes, all but his boxers,

and joined her once more. The intensity of her

desire, of her need for Trent, thrilled her. Scared

her. His gaze was on hers, and he watched her face

as he touched her, noting what made her moan,

what made her hot.

He cupped her breasts, bending to grasp a

turgid nipple in his mouth. His warm tongue laved

and suckled, and Sophie felt an almost painful

pleasure, and then he gave the same treatment to

the other nipple.

“You taste good,” he said against her skin,

licking the flesh between her breasts, trailing his

eager tongue to her collarbone. Sophie’s lips found

the shell of his ear, the strong column of his neck,

the underside of his jaw. She adored the feel of his

hot skin against hers.

She tugged down his boxers and grasped the

hard length of him. Trent returned the favor by

dipping into her panties, sliding through her curls,

and rubbing her sensitive clit.

He leaned down and kissed her. He tasted like

mint toothpaste and vanilla coffee. How did he

manage to taste so delicious? She put her arms

around his neck and pulled him close. She

deepened the kiss, drinking in his essence, pouring

out the emotions he invoked in her.

TRENT WANTED TO taste every inch of her. He

couldn’t resist spreading his fingers across her flat

belly. He moved his hands up her sides, his palms

grazing against the fullness of her breasts. Her

rough gasp excited him.

He nuzzled her neck.

She turned her head and kissed him. He almost

melted under the onslaught of her mouth. Men were

not supposed to turn into big, gooey puddles when

women kissed them. But this was not a tender

assault. Sophie’s lips spoke of need and hunger.

The flickering of her tongue shot darts of desire

through him. Every thought in his head was for her.

He burned for Sophie.

SOPHIE SIGHED AT the soft, warm feeling of his

mouth, and he captured that small breath, tracing

his tongue along her lower lip and brushing her

face with his calloused thumb. She threaded her

finger into his hair. Trent continued to tease her

with his tongue, tasting the corners of her mouth,

tracing the seam, nibbling on the fullness of her

lips. Light and heat danced through her. She

throbbed with need, a living thing that devoured

her senses. She opened her mouth to accept his full

kiss, mating her mouth to his, teasing him as he had

teased her.

Sophie pulled Trent closer. Her nipples

hardened as they made contact with his chest; they

became pinpoints of sensation as Trent’s hands

found them and tortured her with strokes and tugs.

Little flames of desire flickered, ignited, exploded.

Sophie shuddered as desire rippled over her. As

Trent kissed her, Sophie’s restless hands eagerly

sought sensitive skin and smoothed over hard

muscles. He stilled when she grasped his shaft

again and groaned against her mouth when she

stroked him.

TRENT’S DESIRE COMBUSTED. He brushed

the inner skin of her thighs; his hand slid up, up, up

until he reached the most sensitive part of her. She

gasped, moving against his palm, the nails of her

free hand digging into his back as she stroked him

with the same rhythm of he used on her. Sophie’s

low moans and clutching hands were aphrodisiacs.

Trent was hard and ready, but he wanted Sophie’s

gratification more than his own. He bent his head

and suckled her breast, laving it with his tongue.