Cat Scratch Fever; Blue-Collar Werewolves V (17 page)

When they first met, it had been in his
dreams. Nicole had been sensual, a wet dream that had both drawn
and left him cold. Then the succubus tweaked her assault, going for
more innocence, playing down her natural vamp. They hadn’t made
love, they’d fucked. In every imagination, he’d only really wanted
her when she’d played the sexy innocent.

His pride, hurt by his ex-fiancé’s
rejection, had fallen for Nicole the sweet nurse’s aide. He’d been
so determined to show the Pack that he didn’t need Karen or their
pity that he’d married her. Finding out her true nature hadn’t
fazed him at all until he found her invading other men’s dreams.
She used his jealousy to hurt him for depriving her of the one
thing she truly wanted. To be his bonded mate.

For her infidelity, he’d pulled back more,
refusing to tell her the real reason why he didn’t bond them. He
couldn’t. Only the female could do that. If Nicole couldn’t, then
it wouldn’t happen at all. The circle of viciousness between them
grew, until he’d been desperate to escape her. Even taking Morgan’s
offer of servitude in return.

The truth was that he’d never loved Nicole.
He’d loved Karen, who loved Brandon. Nicole had played him,
pretending to be all the sweetness and light that Karen really was.
When he’d finally seen the demon for what she was, she’d dropped
the pretense, at least for him.

Last night’s dreams had been full of the
shame and eroticism that Nicole was so proficient at. He sat up,
feeling the familiar pain of the lash on his back. Rope burns
marred his wrists. The sight of them twisted his gut as he lurched
to his feet. Bradley didn’t need a mirror to know what the injuries
would look like. He’d had them enough in the past to know the raw
red welts of Nicole’s lash and nails.

Bradley strode out of his room, without
bothering with clothes. Somehow the fairy realm enhanced his animal
tendencies. Here, cut off from his people and from the civilization
of humanity, he felt his magical and animal side more keenly.
Ignoring the semi-curious stares of candy color haired servants, he
barged into Morgan’s personal lair. His angry stride slowed to a
cautious walk as he realized that he wasn’t alone with the fairy
lord.

Morgan lounged, Grecian style on a curled
bench. In his lap curled one of the fairy dogs, strange and
beautiful doglike creatures made entirely of plants. This was one
small, like one of those tiny purse-dwelling mutts human women
liked so much. It panted happily, complete adoration for its master
in its periwinkle flower eyes as Morgan stroked a hand over a mossy
grey-green coat spotted with tiny white flowers.

Underneath the coat, the fairy dog’s bones
and musculature would be stick and vines. Bradley had never seen
one bleed, but had heard that a sticky amber sap oozed from the
fairy dog’s injuries. A green leaf of a tongue lolled out over
sharp thorny teeth.

Morgan’s clothes complemented his
surroundings and his pet perfectly. They were of the finest fairy
creation. Morgan’s green hair flowed over the golden toga, to
puddle on the floor. Around him, strangers bowed in various states
of false subservience.

Their long hair and pointed ears marked them
as elven. Their snotty manner gave them away as what Bradley
thought of as the old guard. The others who fancied their pedigree
far above Morgan and his followers. Bradley growled, echoed by the
fairy dog as he took advantage of their startled retreat to take
his own place at Morgan’s feet. The fairy dog jumped out of
Morgan’s lap to sit beside Bradley.

He never understood the creatures’
fascination with him as they invariably left their masters to
follow him around in Morgan’s fairy realm. Bradley was constantly
removing the little plant critters from his room. It wouldn’t be so
bad if they weren’t such girlie dogs. He’d have much preferred a
plant version of a German Sheppard or Pitt Bull.

“Lord Morighan.” The pansy yellow-haired
fuck swallowed at Bradley’s beaten body, and wild demeanor, no
doubt attributing the viciousness to Morgan’s hand. Bradley
growled, enjoying their unease. If anything, their local resident
fairy lord was too lenient to these users. They were constantly
showing up, wanting a handout, then throwing Morgan’s generosity
back in his face with some back-stabbing plot. Bastards.

Bradley snapped his teeth in the fairy’s
direction. The fairy dog copied the movement, going overboard with
growling and snapping until Bradley had to nudge it into settling
down. The ridiculous creature looked up at him, blinking the flower
eyes and wagged its mossy tail. “We had heard rumors of treatise
with the werewolves, but…” he glanced nervously at Bradley while
smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in the spider thread thin fabric
of his jeweled tunic. “never expected you to have one on a
leash.”

“You need to leave Calimn,” Morgan sounded
bored. He waved them away.

“B-but, Lord Morighan. The supplies for
Airdra Keeping…” He shifted nervously at Bradley’s warning growl.
Just for the fun of it he Changed his hands, tapping the thick
wolven claws against the intricate tiles of Morgan’s floor. With an
effort Calimn—
the fool
— tore his gaze away from Morgan’s
watch-wolf and back to the man in charge. “Without food supplies
from the human world, our Keep will suffer.”

“What of your topside contacts? Surely
you’ve kept up with the changing times, Calimn.”

The fairy’s eyes flared in indignation that
he barely swallowed. Bradley could smell the simmering frustration
beneath the fairy’s obeisance. How he kept his head bowed only far
enough, out of deference for what Morgan could give him. His nails
scratched against the tiles hard, sending a shiver up Calimn and
his cronies’ spines. The fairy dog yipped, thinking itself
fearsome.

Morgan reached out to tap Bradley on the
head. The fairy dog ducked, thinking the admonishment was for it.
“Mind the floor. The artists crafted it out of deference to a
friendship long dead.” He turned his attention back to his
‘guests’. “Why should I help you and yours, Calimn of Airdra, when
your people are too lazy to help themselves?”

“The times change fast, lord. How are we
expected to keep slaves and villages these days? The humans have
become jaded. They do not revere us any longer. When we come
topside, many times we find the way blocked by foul fields of tar
and rock poured over grids of iron. Or buildings with foundations
of iron.”

“I am tired of this conversation,” Morgan
stood, walking away from the group to pick up a glass of fragrant
wine that appeared on a table. “Melina!” The fairy dog watched
Morgan but settled closer to Bradley, as if trying to slip under
him. The dry wipe of its leaf tongue swiped against Bradley’s
leg.

Bradley growled keeping himself between them
as the outsiders tried to close the distance. “Lord Morighan. Your
mercy is legendary.”

“Yes, my lord.” Pretty, elfin Melina posed
in a barely there robe of dusky rose. Her long midnight and silver
hair flowed over her shoulders to sweep the floor. Her overlarge
almond eyes and tiny frame drew the others appreciation. Her gaze
touched on Bradley before she turned her delicate nose up. “What
does my lord desire?”

“See to Airdra’s representatives. They have
sanctuary for twenty-four hours.” He turned his back, tipping the
elaborate chalice. The interview was obviously over and Melina
expertly herded them toward the exit. When they were alone, Morgan
set the cup down in mid-air where it hung as if on an invisible
shelf. The cup disappeared as the fairy lord changed his hair to
shoulder length and his clothes to a less showy tunic, jeans, and
boots. He glanced over Bradley’s silent glowering visage, his
injured body, and let out a sigh.

“You said she was locked away,” he’d wanted
the words to be angry. Instead they came out confused. Picking up
on his mood, the little fairy dog whimpered until Bradley picked it
up, cradling the creature against his chest.

Morgan shook his head. “No, I never told you
that. I took your willing service, dampening the unwilling hold she
had over you. I’d hoped you would have more time to heal.”
Suddenly, the fairy lord looked tired. He walked with slow steps to
the ever-changing tapestry that hung on one wall.

Bradley followed, scratching the fairy dog
behind the ears while thinking back over that night that he’d
pledged his service. He’d been desperate to reach Mark, even more
desperate to shake Nicole’s hold on his soul and his loyalty. He’d
accepted, wanting to believe Morgan had the power to banish the
demon forever.

“You know I cannot banish her. You called
her to you. You must be the one to dismiss her. If she has escaped
from her temporary imprisonment, then her goal will be to win back
what was lost at all costs. The energy that makes up your soul is
precious in so many ways. It’s an amazing thing, the soul.” Morgan
waved a hand, changing the landscape of the tapestry. Bradley
didn’t follow the designs’ movements, just like he didn’t follow a
lot of what Morgan said.

He disliked the tapestry in general and
Morgan talked in circles all of the time. His future was not a
thing he wanted to know about. He’d rather make his own, thank you
very much. Besides, so far his future sucked the big one.

How in the hell was he supposed to dismiss
Nicole, when she was reality in his dreams? All he had to do was
take a nap and she had him at her mercy, begging her to do what she
wanted to him. God he was sick.

Morgan shook his head again and sighed the
long-suffering sound that he made when his underlings were acting
stupid. “You know the answer wolf. You see it manifest in your Pack
every day.” He also hated that mind reading thing of Morgan’s.

He thought about it. Apparently, Morgan
could only do so much here. Adam couldn’t save him from this one.
Diana couldn’t make it better with a hug. Bradley would have to
save himself this time. “I don’t get it.” The fairy dog whined,
placing one little twig paw on his chest while it batted its petal
lashes at him. Stupid little creature. It would never survive in
the harsh reality of Bradley’s world.

Morgan sighed again. “Love, my wolf. Don’t
you read your fairy tales? Love conquers all.”

“You think love is going to keep those
Airdra idiots from double-crossing you?” Bradley was grumpy enough
to point out Morgan’s own unhealthy generosity.

Crossing his arms over his chest, the fairy
lord turned his thoughts inward. Bradley didn’t expect an answer,
but the one given was pure Morgan. “No, love will not keep Calimn
or his followers from spying on us. It will not keep Airdra’s men
from attempting to kill me.” His voice softened with a tinge of
sadness. “But it will keep the innocents of Airdra Keeping from
starvation for a little while.”

Chapter Thirteen

Brandon’s car turned out to be a side-step,
extended cab truck that allowed Matthew to load the most expensive
and necessary of his welding paraphernalia. Consequently, Matthew’s
‘five minutes to get ready’ turned into two hours. With his new
strength and that of Brandon’s, the job of loading went by fast. At
the last minute, he decided to add several pieces of sculpture,
including the Big Ben clock, to the already heavy load. His welding
machine had its own trailer that it was permanently mounted on and
attached nicely to the hitch.

Inside Morrow and Nathan were both dressed
in whatever they could find in Matthew’s closet. Nathan, smaller
than the old Matthew, was able to find loose fitting jeans and
shirt. Morrow, on the other hand, was slightly broader, but able to
make do.

Matthew thought Naomi looked pretty cute in
his old drawstring shorts. In fact, in his too tight t-shirt,
sweats, and flip-flops, they were a matched pair. He wisely kept
his mouth shut, leaving her to the task of coaxing Ramses into the
pet carrier. Outside, Nathan balanced the cooler loaded down with
food stuff Naomi had brought from the kitchen. The panther whistled
at how low the truck rode. “That is one heavy load.”

Matthew peered into the bed, noting several
toolboxes that had been added after he’d finished. Brandon shrugged
off any thanks well before Matthew could say anything and then
climbed into the driver’s side cab. Naomi shoved the pet carrier in
and climbed into the passenger side beside Brandon. She shut the
door before Matthew could help.

“You are in so much trouble,” Nathan smirked
at him as he opened the smaller back passenger door.

Morrow was right behind the werepanther,
shaking his head. “Leo, she is so mad at you that she’s not
speaking to anything male.” He leaned out the door before closing
it. “Flowers probably won’t do the trick.”

Going around the truck, Matthew took his
seat and braced himself for the two-hour trip to Palestine, Texas
and the uncertain reunion with his mother and sister. Two hours of
Nathan’s constant chatter and teasing. He could hardly wait.

Then again, Matthew realized that in the
last eighteen hours or so, he’d become closer to these guys than
he’d been with anyone since high school. Yesterday, if anyone had
asked him for his closest friend, then Matthew would have said
Doyle Locke, from the security firm. But that was business, not
friendship.

Today, he had real friends. People who
wanted him around. That meant a great deal. “Nathan, I’d lay off
talking about Naomi as if she weren’t up there debating on whether
to bash you with the pet carrier or not.”

No! You wouldn’t throw me, would you Lia?
I am a temple cat, remember? Precious and innocent. You said
so.
Nathan paused, eyeing her tightly clenched hand on the
handle and Ramses’ worried green eyes as he peered out of the air
holes in the side.

“It’s only because I wouldn’t do that to
such a sweet thing as you, Ramses,” she cooed into the carrier.