Her Werewolf Hero (11 page)

She knew the tease probably wasn't as appealing as she hoped it would be. If he'd sworn off human women? What was that about?

“For a kiss, eh?”

“Promise I won't even flinch.”

His smirk was sexy even from side profile. “Well, then.”

“That won't encroach on your swearing off human women vow, will it?”

“Kissing is good. Especially kissing you.”

Good answer. The man had won himself some points. And she was willing to award said points to him because she did like him. Very much. “Okay, then. Sex during the full moon?”

“Werewolves are compelled to shift the day before the full moon, day of the full moon and the day after. It's never wise to shift so often, especially since we share our world with humans. It was different a few centuries ago when the densely populated cities were fewer and farther between. We've adapted. Most of my species have taken to only shifting on the night of the full moon. The other two nights we can quench the need to shift by having sex. Lots of it. Until we're sated.”

“Wow. So two days out of the month you have to get your horny on?”

“That's a way to put it, yes.”

“Never with a human woman, though? What if that's all who is available?”

“You would be amazed at the proliferation of the paranormal species living within this mortal realm.”

“I'm sure I would be. I never would have expected vampires in Thief River Falls. Or harpies, for that matter. Okay. So tell me about bonding. Is that like a till-death-do-us-part, happily-ever-after thing?”

“It is. We marry just as humans do, and a werewolf generally takes one mate for life. We prefer mating with our own species, but the ratio of female wolves to males is much lower. Many of us take a different species as bride. Some even marry human women.”

“Heh. So we're not so bad after all. And then how do you bond?”

“We have sex in our werewolf form with our mate.”

“Ah.” Kizzy let that one sink in. Two werewolves going at it in shifted form? That would be crazy, and she didn't want to think about it in detail, but it made sense. A werewolf and some other creature like a vampire or demon or whatever? Could still make sense.

A werewolf and a human? Hmm...

“It's biologically possible,” he provided. “And anatomically, as well. You've seen me in my shifted form.”

Yes, and though it was dark, he'd had the body of a human, though more powerful and muscled. His hands had been paw-like, and yet he'd had fingers as well, tipped with long vicious claws. She'd not noticed his feet. Or a particular part of his anatomy that would prove his claims to things being anatomically possible. Torn jeans had still clung to his frame...

“So you're anatomically all proper and right, then?”

“Really, Kizzy?”

“Come on, I'm curious. Deal with it.”

“I've a cock when in werewolf shape, yes. I'm pretty sure it's remarkably human-like too. Though when I'm in werewolf form my mind is ruled by the animal, so I don't generally sit about pondering my junk.”

Kizzy couldn't help a little laugh, but she felt no mirth. “Sounds not right to me. A wolf and a human?”

“I am half animal, half man when in werewolf shape. I don't need to sell you on it. It's not ever going to happen with us. Promise.” He winked at her.

And Kizzy held back a sigh. Sex with Bron was definitely on her radar. Not when he was in animal shape. But there were other werewolves who married humans? That had to make for an interesting bedside manner.

“So you're not sexually attracted to me?” she tossed out.

“What?”

“No desire to have sex with me? In your human form?”

“You just put it right out there, don't you?”

“Don't tell me you're a prude. Twenty-first century girl here. And you're a big boy. We can talk about sex. It's okay.”

“I know it's okay, and I'm mostly comfortable with this conversation, but everything about you surprises and challenges me.”

“Good for me. But you're changing the topic. So much for ‘mostly comfortable.'”

He sighed, then gestured with a thumbs-up. “I'd do you. Is that what you want to hear?”

“It is. I'd do you, too. Just so you know. Oh.” Her phone vibrated, and she tugged it out. “Nightcat approved me.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means...” she said as she scrolled through NightCat's Twitter profile “... I can now read all of his Tweets. Give me a few minutes. There's a lot. Hmm... He's named us both, Bron Everhart and Kizzy Lewis. That's weird that he knows so much.”

“If he can communicate with others, and they are reporting to him, it's not implausible.”

“Yes, but I haven't lived in Thief River for a while. I'm pretty much a stranger in town, just as you are.” She scrolled up a few more Tweets and read a startling entry. “Everhart should be home with his wife?”

Heart dropping in her chest, Kizzy looked to him.

“What's that? Does it say that?”

Her mouth dropped open, and she almost let out a peep, but she was smart enough not to respond to his surprises with anything he'd take offensively. But really? “Are you married? You were just telling me about bonding...”

“Kizzy, relax. How does he have that information?”

“I don't know. Is it true? He also Tweeted that you've pissed off the soul bringer. What's a soul bringer? But wait!” She stopped him just as he was opening his mouth to reply.

He pulled up to the speaker and a voice asked for his order.

“Wait for what?” Bron asked her.

“I think we'd better get the food and then sit down at a table,” Kizzy said. “We've got a lot to talk about.”

Chapter 11

A
fter a couple sausage McMuffins and three orange juices, Bron wasn't compelled to immediately jump back in the truck and drive Kizzy home. The sky was bright, and they sat at a yellow plastic table out back of the restaurant near a thatch of woods that sported red-bark pines. The air smelled like freedom and lacking responsibility. And his inner wolf howled to go for a run.

One thing about all the traveling he did, he had to make time to get out in the open—away from the job—and surrender to the “being one with nature” thing. It was necessary to his very soul.

Three days. Then he'd let the wolf out. And in two days he'd need to have sex all night to sate the need to shift. If the mission continued on its course, running less than smoothly, he anticipated Kizzy still being around. How to handle that one? Their conversation had confirmed they were both interested in one another in a sexual way. He'd love to get busy with her. She was gorgeous, smart, and when she kissed him, he forgot himself.

And that was more dangerous to his well-being than going after a wraith demon unarmed. Because intimacy, well...it wasn't his forte.

But he owed her some answers because she'd put up with a crazy man dragging her all over without telling her much, save that he had been tasked to take her heart from her chest. That was unconscionable. But would she be forever pursued for her Purgatory Heart?

The sun glinted in Kizzy's eyes, and he noticed the freckles on her nose. Then he realized she was watching him watching her. And all he wanted to do was stare at her endlessly, maybe touch the few strands of hair that the wind blew across her forehead. Trace those freckles. Kiss her lips. Grasp for that relentlessly aspiring freedom. But there were reasons he'd never feel completely free, unyoked from the mistakes of his past.

And she deserved to know that reason.

“The wife,” he muttered and clasped his hands before him.

Kizzy set down her soda cup and propped her chin on the back of her hand, giving him her full attention. No judgment in her brown eyes. No revulsion either.

“I married in 1840. Was married to my wife for fifteen years. Well...” Longer than that, considering he'd never officially divorced Claire. “I haven't heard from her since 1855. And...I never allowed myself to check up on her. To see if she's still alive.”

“What? You just...left her?”

He nodded. “I had to. I was banished from my pack. And I was the pack leader at the time.”

“Really? I guess that makes sense. Wolves run in packs. You were pack leader? I get that vibe from you. Go, alpha male.”

“We alphas tend to have egos the size of football stadiums. Useful for standing as a leader and vowing to protect all. Not so useful when it comes to understanding the intricacies of an intimate relationship. I committed a grave crime against my wife and the pack. I was forced to leave. When a wolf is banished, he is tortured and the physical scars remain. And then he's forced out on his own, a lone wolf. No other wolves will associate with him if they know he's been banished.”

“You don't have any werewolf friends?”

He shrugged. “A few I trust and who know they can, in turn, trust me.”

She nodded, taking that in. “What did you do to your wife?”

“I had an affair,” he offered. And it felt much easier saying it than he'd anticipated. Over the centuries he'd thought about it on occasion but had never allowed himself to dwell because that would reduce him to misery, self-blame and stupid regrets. “With a human woman.”

“Oh. Is that taboo for werewolves? But you said some marry human women.”

“Some do. And it's not taboo, per se. Having a child with a human woman can be, if you are the leader of a pack and are married.”

Kizzy's jaw dropped. “You're a father?”

“I was.”

“Oh, right, I'm sure if she was human she's long dead now, but once a father always a father.”

“Kizzy, she—” He blew out his breath and braced himself for the horrible truth.

This was too much, too soon. But at the same time, the words spilled out because they needed escape from the cage in his core that he'd held locked for so long.

“I kept the child and the affair a secret, though I visited them often. The child, her name was Isabelle, was very smart. Too smart. One snowy winter evening a carriage arrived at the pack compound, and Isabelle was delivered to our doorstep. She told me her mother had died in a house fire. Isabelle had the wits to grab her mother's pearls and hire someone to bring her to me.”

“Smart kid. I'm so sorry about her mother.”

“Yes, well. With a human child standing in the compound I had to reveal all to the pack. And to my wife. Their disapproval was unanimous. All voted to have me ousted through banishment, and I had to agree. It's what I, as pack leader, would have commanded of any other wolf who had committed such a crime.

“I tried to talk to my wife, Claire, but she wouldn't allow it. The last words I said to her were Isabelle's name and that I hadn't intended for it to happen.”

He scrubbed his hand across the back of his head and confessed quickly, “I was an asshole back then. Egotistical. Thought I ruled the world and could do as I pleased with whomever I pleased. It was sort of necessary to head a pack as an alpha. I was a force.”

“I can see that in you.”

“Really? Because I've changed considerably.”

“I can see that, too. You've an innate but controlled sense of command about you. You own the ground you stand on. You won't take shit from anyone. And your word is fiercely honorable. So they forced you to leave the pack?”

“It's a sort of ritual, the banishment. The wolf is strung up before his pack members, and each of them go at him, in werewolf form, with their claws. Claws dipped in wolfsbane to ensure the wounds will scar and forever mark. It took hours. And during that torture I only hoped that Isabelle was safe and not being tormented by any of the younger pack members.

“After the ritual, I must have passed out. Blood loss. For most of the night I lay on a cold dirt floor in my own blood. And when I woke, I was allowed to clean myself up, pack some supplies and then was sent away on foot. When I asked to take Isabelle along with me, I was told she'd been sent away the day before, just as I was being brought to punishment.”

“But you said it was winter,” Kizzy said quickly.

Bron nodded. Bowed his head. His heart crushed, and he sucked in his upper lip. The cage was squeezing tighter. Why had he thought telling her this would be wise? The memory was so painful. His heart froze as cold as the night had been.

“It was January,” he offered quietly, clasping his hands together to keep from revealing his shaking fingers. “Below zero weather, I'm sure.”

“OhmyGod.”

That gasp said so much. And Bron felt her distressed realization deeply. For the moment, he was transported back to that windy winter morning, the snow whipping across his face. His skin cold, yet his heart so much colder at the sight of what he'd found.

“Four hours after setting out from the pack compound I found Isabelle in the woods beneath a thick, exposed tree root. Frozen.” He pressed a hand to his mouth and strained to keep the tears from his eyes.

And when Kizzy rose to stand beside him and leaned over to embrace him, he did allow a few tears to slip. Couldn't stop it. He'd loved Isabelle. And because of him, she had suffered. Her lips had been blue, her eyes frozen open in an accusatory stare up at him.

“She was an innocent,” he whispered. “They had no right. But I was the reason she died. And so I've avoided human women since then.”

“But it could have been any woman,” she said softly. “Yes? You shouldn't blame all humans.”

“Were Isabelle born to any other species she might have been accepted by the pack. If not for the affair, of course. Isabelle died because I was stupid and greedy and thought I could have anything I wanted because I was the pack leader. I told everyone else what to do. And I did care about my wife. I just didn't respect her as any woman deserves.”

Kizzy's arms bracketed his chest, and she tilted her head to his shoulder. “So you punished yourself by becoming a virtual monk? When will you have suffered enough?”

“Never,” he managed. “Isabelle deserves my constant penance.”

“She's gone, Bron.”

“Not from my heart.”

And he stood, shrugging out of Kizzy's warm and welcome embrace, and marched to the back of the truck, needing to distance himself from her sweet, gentle understanding. From the fact that she hadn't cringed when he'd told her how cruel he had been to his wife. Why was she so...nice? So accepting of everything? She should run away from him. He could only bring her trouble. As had been proven thus far.

The passenger door slammed, and he turned to look inside the truck cab. Kizzy waved and gave him a warm smile.

What was that saying about drawing to you that which you needed most? Even if it annoyed the hell out of him, it was something a person was supposed to examine. No one entered another person's life for no reason. A man should either take that person's presence as a blessing or a lesson.

So what was Kizzy? A lesson in how to resist yet another human woman? Or a blessing come to forgive him his sins against his innocent daughter?

By all the gods, if he could go back and change that night, he would. He'd sacrifice his life to give Isabelle hers. He'd struggled over and over with this for years after walking away from the pack. Decades. And then he'd pulled up a shield of emotionless, monk-like resolve. And that was how he'd survived to this day.

So he'd put it out there, and he wasn't sure how he felt now. Better? Worse? Had she really needed to know?
Yes
.

Because something about Kisanthra Lewis made him want to be better. Made him want to rise up and meet her wondrous beliefs and show her that her fears were not all real. And he would. He needed to prove to her that werewolves could be kind and not monsters.

He gestured he was going inside the restaurant and bought two coffees to go, then returned to the truck. Kizzy kissed him on the cheek as she took the cup. “Thank you for telling me that. It means a lot that you trusted me.”

“I don't want to talk about it anymore.”

“I understand. I think we can head to my apartment. The Nightcat Tweeted that our location is currently unknown. That could be a good thing, yes?”

“Possibly the tracker is no longer sending out vibrations.”

“Though he did mention the soul bringer again. That its wraith had been destroyed. Makes it sound like that demon with half a face was sent by this soul bringer person.”

“I suspected it had been commanded by another force.”

“What is a soul bringer?”

He shifted into gear and steered the truck onto the road that filed into the main part of town. “They were once angels. They Fell to this realm to become psychopomps.”

“I've heard that term before. Aren't psychopomps the ones who usher dead souls to Heaven?”

“Above or Beneath. I have no idea why a soul bringer would be interested in your heart. I would assume he's already got entrance to Purgatory.”

“Does he? You said Heaven or Hell. What if Purgatory is closed to him? Which still doesn't explain why he would want to go there. Do you think he sent someone to Purgatory by mistake?”

“I don't know much more than what I've told you. Were you able to learn the Nightcat's location?”

“He doesn't list one beyond the state, which is Minnesota. You think he could be here in Thief River Falls?”

“I'll place bets on it. Especially if he witnessed the harpie attack. We may have to call him out. Can you do that with that Tweet thing?”

“I could.”

“Save it. We'll drive by your apartment, but I think it wise we stay away for a little longer.”

“Right. More motel beds. Love it.”

He didn't miss the sarcasm. “Unless you prefer I drop you off?”

“No, I'm cool with not attracting too much attention. Let's pick up some new clothes at that Walmart just ahead and make a plan. And for sure, I need to buy a comb. I just checked the side mirror. Shouldn't have done that. I have Vampire Tilda hair.”

He gave her a side glance. “Do I want to know?”

“Haven't you seen
Only Lovers Left Alive
?”

“I don't often have opportunity to watch movies.”

“Oh, man, I love movies. Well, Tilda Swinton starred in a flick about centuries-old vampires. Her hair was long and white blond and always thick and messy, like it hadn't been combed in decades. I kept thinking to myself, she's lived centuries. Certainly by now she should have developed a grooming routine. Anyway—” Kizzy tugged out a clump of her decidedly tangled hair “—Vampire Tilda hair.”

“A comb it is, then.”

* * *

At the Walmart, Kizzy bought some shockingly cheap jeans, a toothbrush and paste, and a comb, and some protein bars and bottled water. They drove through town on Main Street. A glance toward the windows on her third-story rental did not indicate anything suspicious. Still, much as she was so over the motel rooms, she felt it would be safer to give it another day before attempting a return. They had the afternoon to sit around and do some research on soul bringers and to try and locate Nightcat.

Bron found a room at the edge of town. The receptionist recognized Kizzy and gave her the eye. They'd graduated the same year and had shared an interest in art. She sized up Bron from head to crotch and smirked knowingly. Kizzy didn't say anything beyond a friendly hello, but she did grab Bron's hand, kiss him on the cheek and walk out with the key in hand.

“Sorry,” she offered as they strode toward the room. “I know what she was thinking, so I gave her something to think about. Couldn't resist.”