Date: 2000-01-01 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal; Romance; Vampires; Paranormal Romance; Shapeshifters; Urban Fantasy; Werewolves; Chick Lit; Mystery
Description: Werewolf Sophie Lennox barely survived the slaughter that took the lives of four of her friends. How could an innocent camping trip in the Pacific Northwest turn into a werewolf bloodbath? It turns out that the Alberich, an ancient sect of werewolf hunters, have risen once more to do what their ancestors could not: destroy the werewolves. Ryer Clayton is a werewolf whose own run-in with the Alberich, nearly a hundred years before, had decimated his family--and left him with mental and physical scars. He's now considered one of the best werewolf warriors alive. He must help Sophie work through
Publisher: Freeman Publications
Rights: Copyright 2015 Michele Bardsley. All rights reserved.

Lycan on the Edge

Broken Heart Book 13

Michele Bardsley

Contents

Dedication

Together, they will save parakind…

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Your Lycan or Mine?

The Broken Heart Books

About the Author

Copyright

To my Viking

I love you always.

To Renee, who is the reason this book rocks.

I love you, BFF!

“I’m sorry, man, but what about a human by day, a freak animal killing machine by moonlight don’t you understand? I mean, werewolves are badass.”

~Dean Winchester from “Heart” on Supernatural

Together, they will save parakind…

Werewolf Sophie Lennox barely survived the Alberich attack that left her wounded emotionally and physically. She’s not sure how she survived the Alberich, a creature thought long-dead, and one of the most savage predators werewolves have ever faced.

Trent Clayton is a werewolf whose own run-in with the Alberich a hundred years before took his wife and nearly destroyed him. Now, he must help Sophie work through her traumatized state and reveal to Sophie that she possesses an unusual gift—one that connects her to him.

Broken Heart is right in the vicious sights of the Alberich, but the creatures have never faced a whole town of parakind willing to defend their borders, and each other, with fur, fang, magic, swords, guns, and zombies.

With two werewolves leading the charge, the citizens of Broken Hear must win the battle against the Alberich. Or die (um, again) trying.

Prologue

Six Months Ago

“RISE WARRIOR. IT’S time to take your vengeance.”

The strong female voice held dark magic, her words forming the spells needed to awaken those who’d been asleep for more than a hundred years. Meckenzie watched in horror as the man, and she used the term loosely, climbed to his massive feet and opened his eyes.

He had four of them. Two in the front and two in the back. More than seven feet tall with green warty skin and a bulbous hairless head, he wore the pelts of slain werewolves around his torso and loose, brown pants strapped to his waist with a large chain belt.

“You sure this is a good move?” Meckenzie asked the crazy bitch stirring up all this trouble.

Ena the Evil turned her witchy black-eyed gaze on Meckenzie. She screwed her mouth into a scowl and pointed a skinny finger. “You dare to question me?”

“Take the broomstick outta your ass,” Meckenzie said because she did enjoy taking her life into her hands. “You seriously want to level an entire town because a couple of werewolves dissed your mom?”

“Dissed?” Twin flames erupted in Ena’s dark gaze. “Tark and Aufanie ensured the destruction of the coven, and that bitch Brigid helped. They all spilled my mother’s blood.”

Oh, irony. Ena had gone after Meckenzie’s mother because she thought hurting Mary Braith would somehow bring the Celtic goddess running to her. How she knew Brigid owed Mom a solid was still a puzzle Meckenzie hadn’t figured out. Her mother had been a means to an end, and her refusal to call Brigid forth is why she died—and also why Meckenzie now bore the burden of Ena’s wrath.

“I will have my vengeance,” said Ena. “I will take from them all they hold dear. The Alberich are perfect machines of destruction. The werewolves are terrified of these creatures. The vampires cannot defeat them. They repel fae magic. These dark creatures haven't walked the earth for more than a hundred years.” She smiled, showing sharp, white teeth. “Lucky for us, several Alberich hibernated to avoid annihilation.”

Since the day she’d been bound into the witch’s service, Meckenzie had heard Ena rail about everything. For a supposed bad-ass, she sure was a whiner. She waved at Tall, Dark, and Ugly. “Hibernation, huh? And this guy decided to take the big nap in Oregon?”

Ena swept her arms up in a grand gesture toward the monster. The loose black sleeves of her shirt flapped dramatically. “He is only the first. It will take time to find the others.”

Meckenzie had her doubts. If this monster was so horrifying and unrelenting, how come his kind weren’t kings and queens of the world? She looked at the Alberich. He scratched his balls and then sniffed his hand. Classy. From the stupefied expression on his face, she figured he was about as smart as the boulder he was currently trying to eat.

Ena stared at the monster with a strange motherly pride. “They will destroy Broken Heart for us.”

For you, mentally corrected Meckenzie. She didn’t want anything to do with hurting others. Too bad it was Ena’s favorite hobby. The witch called the Alberich to her and the hideous creature lined up before her, apparently recognizing Ena the Evil as his master.

Oh, brother.

Broken Heart was in serious trouble. Meckenzie wouldn’t have been within a hundred feet of Ena if she’d had a choice. Unfortunately, she was a minion. Thus far, she’d been able to stay out of the hinky stuff. Her skills were more along the line of retrieving objects though some might call it stealing.

But now, here she was, up to her tits in dark magic and bad life decisions.

Way to go, Meckenzie.

The Alberich spoke. His voice sounded like stones grinding together, and the words weren’t even words as far as she could tell. Ena understood monster, apparently, because she turned toward Meckenzie with a razor-sharp smile.

“His name is Gath. And he smells a werewolf.”

“Here?” Meckenzie gestured around the thickly treed forest. She’d hoped being in the middle of nowhere would protect the humans and parakind from any bad ju-ju Ena might unleash.

“Nearby.” Ena’s crooked smile turned ugly. She turned her sharp gaze to the Alberich. “You are free to hunt the werewolf. But you must return as soon as you’re finished.”

Gath nodded, and turned, tramping into the woods, easily shoving aside brush, limbs, and the occasional tree.

Meckenzie felt sick to her stomach. She hoped like hell the werewolf was running in the opposite direction.

Chapter One

Present Day

SOPHIE LENNOX STARED at the watery muck because she had always faced reality head-on ... and, well, she had no other choice. She’d rather stare at the ground, anyway, because the other option was to stare at her breasts as gravity slowly squeezed them out of her bikini top.

If only she could shift. But going werewolf now would only complicate the already complicated mess of hanging upside down from the ten-foot ladder. She’d gotten on the step with the printed warning “Do Not Stand On This Step.” She’d fallen backward. The ropes wrapped around her ankles and suspended her above a particularly nasty mud hole.

Since all the blood had rushed to her head, she no longer felt the pain in her rope-entangled feet. She sighed. The low breath skimmed down her heated face, and she got a whiff her mint toothpaste. Oh good. At least she’d have decent breath when she died of embarrassment. They could eulogize her with, “Sure she died with her breasts exposed and resting on her chin, but at least she didn’t have halitosis.”

How difficult was it to paint shutters? Seriously. Could she do nothing that didn’t end with her being maimed? When she’d tied the ropes around the paint cans and looped them over the ladder’s tray, she raised and lowered them several times to make sure she wasn’t, as Nana constantly harangued her, “overdoing it.” Werewolf strength—I has it. Sometimes. She hated the muscle spasms that took her breath and her movement. Oh yeah, and she couldn’t forget about the occasional blackouts that stole her memories.

Deal with it, Sophie. This is your life now.

Thanks to the isolated location of their Victorian house, help was not within shouting distance. In Broken Heart, no one could hear you scream. At least no one in the vampire seniors nudist colony, which was ten miles up the road. Come to think of it, she would prefer not to be rescued by the wrinkly, naked undead.

Where the heck was her grandmother? How long did it take to pick up a few groceries? Sophie groaned. She’d been trapped on this stupid ladder for…

Hours?

Days?

Aeons?

She turned her wrist over and read the upside-down digital display.

Five minutes.

Her left breast shifted, threatening to expose her nipple. She tucked the errant boob back inside, wondering if she dared to untie and re-tie her bathing suit top. It needed to be tightened if she hoped to keep covered. Her gaze flitted around the side yard. The bushes beside the ladder concealed most of her, and since they lived on the road to nowhere, she had no fear of being seen by passing motorists. Or werewolves.

Wouldn’t her friends just die? They would never let her forget.

Goddess, please kill me now.

Her face felt swollen and tight with rushing blood. Her pulse hammered in her ears blocking out all the normal farm noises she normally heard, and her nose was stuffy too boot. On top of those annoyances, her right breast crept toward freedom.

Frustration shot through her. “All right. That’s it!”

Damned if she was going to be found hanging upside-down with her breasts dangling from her bikini top like discarded Christmas-tree ornaments. Sophie reached behind her back and fumbled with the string. All she had to do was tighten it. Maybe she could just pull the loops—

The string loosened and released. The top swung off and dangled from her neck.

A string of curses erupted from her as she grabbed the top and pushed it against her uncooperative bosom. She couldn’t get her boobs into position and re-tie the top. She pressed the material, her arms against her chest, and closed her eyes in despair.

“Werewolf yoga?”

The deep, masculine voice startled Sophie. Her eyes flew open. Damn it! She’d been so focused on the bikini tops, her boobs, her swollen, stuffy head, she hadn’t heard the man. Now, she found herself staring at a jean-clad crotch. He was too close for her to get a good angle to see his face without face-planting into his groin.

She tried to wriggle away, but swayed forward, bumping into the the stranger’s family jewels.

The man jumped back, missing the water-filled hole by scant inches.

Mortification scorched her cheeks. I’m half-naked, upside down, and now I’ve informally met some random dude’s genitals.

The jeans moved forward. Her gaze riveted to the glinting steel button. Crap. The crotch was returning.

“Stay away!”

The man retreated. He hunkered down, his warm brown eyes holding an expression of concern. Wow. He was gorgeous—like Brad-Pitt-and-Keanu-Reeves-had-a-baby gorgeous. Wavy brown hair framed his chiseled cheekbones. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Peachy,” she said. Hmm. This close, even with a stuffed up nose, she smelled wet earth and pine—scents associated with werewolves. He was shifter, but she knew all the shifters in Broken Heart. Hell, everyone knew everyone in the small Oklahoma town. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Trent. You must be Sophie.”

“You a psychic?”

“Nope. Handyman. Virginia offered me the garage apartment in exchange for fixing up the house.”

Her grandmother hired someone to help with repairs? What am I? Chopped liver?

Trent frowned. No, smiled. Sophie bent her neck, getting a sideways view of his face instead of an upside-down one. Technically, he’d done nothing threatening. It wasn’t his fault his bulge was eye level with her or that she was a klutz. Sweat dripped from her brow as her body protested its unnatural position. Her arms had lost sensation, and her breasts had already jumped out and yelled, “Howdy!”

“I’ll get you untangled.”

“Oh.” She swallowed heavily. “My bikini top, uh, came loose.”

“I see.”

“You do? Oh my God!” She looked at her chest, but her arms still provided sufficient cover.

“No, no. I don’t see your—I can’t see anything. I meant I understood.” He looked away, and then returned his gaze to hers. His eyes were dark brown, reminding her of her favorite chocolate truffles. They held an indecipherable emotion in check. She suspected he found some humor in the situation, and she felt grateful he hadn’t laughed. “Do you want me to help you tie your bathing suit top?”

Her expression must have revealed her answer because before she could blurt out Hell no!, he stood and took off his white T-shirt. He squatted again then pushed the shirt over her head, gently tugging her ponytail through. “Do you think you can get your arms through it?”

She nodded, her mouth dry. Hot damn, his abs were the epitome of washboard. She cursed her nipples for picking that moment to poke her forearms. It was as if they’d never seen a cute guy before. Ugh.

“I’ll go away.” He put his hands on his hips, his pecs contracting with the movement. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when he caught her looking. He was smart enough to keep any comments to himself. Instead, he nodded. “Yell when you’re ready.”

Sophie waited for him disappear around the corner of the house. Jesus, the view was just as good from behind. Hurriedly, she put on the shirt and tugged it over her stomach. Her arms felt achy and tingly, but she held onto the bottom seam for dear life. “Okay!”

He jogged back to her and grabbed the end of the shirt. “I’ll tie it in a knot. It should hold until I free you.” His hands covered hers, and suddenly, the cold tingles pricking her fingers heated. “Your arms must feel like they’re going to fall out of their sockets.”

She nodded and reluctantly let go of the shirt. As he tied a tight, efficient knot, his knuckles brushed her abdomen. Her muscles tensed. When he stepped back to survey the ladder, she released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

Trent shook his head. “How did you manage to get the ladder between the holly bushes,” he pointed to the puddle, “this swamp and the house?”

“I’m very talented,” she grumbled. “Do what you have to, but do it quickly because I can’t feel my feet anymore.”

“Wrap your arms around me and hang on so you don’t fall when I get you loose. I’ll hold onto your legs and lower you to the ground.”

Humiliation flooded her as Trent stood and reached for her feet. Her breasts pressed against his flat stomach as she tucked her face between his legs. She hugged his muscular thighs and tried not think about the man’s anatomy, in particular, the part located under her chin.

Sophie felt his grip around her knees as he tugged on the ropes. Next, his warm palm slid between her thighs. The ropes loosened, and her knees connected with his shoulders as her feet were freed. He tilted, his sneakered feet scrambling for purchase on the wet grass. His grip on her legs tightened, and Sophie had no choice but to hold on for dear life as they both tumbled into the puddle.

Sophie spluttered as gritty water showered her face and filled her mouth. Since she’d landed on top, she had the advantage. She turned around and plunked herself squarely on Trent’s chest with enough force to expel whatever air he had left in his lungs. A pair of brown eyes blinked at her as he tried to draw in a breath.

Sophie put her hand against his throat, pressing against his windpipe.

“I surrender,” he gasped out, holding up his hands. He grinned, his teeth flashing white. His stomach muscles flexed under her rear end, and Sophie realized he was allowing her to sit on his chest and bully him.

The realization came too late. Before Sophie could scramble off, he grabbed her wrists and flipped her to her back into the puddle. Muddy water dripped from his dark hair and onto her face. Her werewolf surfaced and began to growl.

“Whoa.” His eyes held a teasing glint, and his body was relaxed, not rigid with tension or intent to harm. Well, so now what? Sophie considered her options. She could knee him, she supposed. She flexed her fingers, noting that his hands only lightly held her wrists.

For a long moment, they stared at each other, panting heavily. A woodsy scent—his cologne mixed with pure alpha wolf—filtered into her senses. Wow. He smelled really good. Her human side and her wolf side were both in agreement—Trent was a fine specimen.

“Sophie!” Nana’s voice trilled. “I see you’ve met Trent.”

The man rolled off Sophie. She balanced on her elbows and narrowed her gaze at her crafty, sneaky, unapologetically nosey grandmother.

Nana smiled brightly. “Trent, er, Mr. Clayton is my new handyman. I hired him yesterday. He’s going to help us with the house.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” accused Sophie.

“I forgot, dear. I’m old.” Nana’s gaze transferred from Sophie to the ladder. “What were you doing?”

“Painting the shutters,” answered Sophie. She glanced at Trent, who was trying to wipe the mud off his arms and out of his hair. The curly brown hair on his chest narrowed down his muscular stomach, the silky line of hair disappearing into his jeans. Tan, muscled, and good-looking. She looked at her grandmother and frowned. Suspicion crept through Sophie like a cautious spider.

“Where did you find Trent?”

“Queen Patsy recommended him.”

“You consulted with the vampire queen about a handyman?” Sophie eyed Trent, who shrugged. “Seriously?”

Nana tsked tsked, then made shooing motions at Sophie. “Take a shower, young lady. Trent, you need one, too. Go on, now, both of you!”

“Virginia! Are you suggesting I shower with this woman?”

“Trent, you devil!” Nana slapped her thigh and hooted.

Sophie whirled around, her cheeks heated and flushed.

Trent’s mouth quirked up at the corners, amusement dancing in his brown eyes. He raised his brows. “If it means keeping my job, I’ll suffer through it,” he said sadly.

Sophie fumed at the pitiful look he sent her. It was laced with just enough lasciviousness to make her want to poke out his eyes. Their laughter sent her scurrying to the back of the house. She trudged up the three steps and opened the screen door. She plopped down on the floor of the enclosed porch and began to take off her dirty socks and shoes. She managed to get her left foot free, but the right shoe had a lace full of knots.

Something about Trent bothered her. He was too handsome, she decided. And he had an irritating dimple near the right corner of his mouth.

Stop thinking about his mouth.

The door screeched, and Sophie looked up. Trent entered, his muscled torso gleaming with sweat and dirt, looking like one of those body spray commercial models. And she knew up close and personal-like how really good he smelled without any help from some aerosolized cologne. She tore her gaze from the view and concentrated on the knot in the tennis shoe strings.

“Need help?”

The low sound of his voice skimmed up over her and ignited a spark in her belly. Startled at her strong reaction, Sophie snapped, “No thanks.”

He tilted his head. “I’m sorry I saw your panties.”

“You saw my—oh, crap,” she said, gripping her slimy shoe strings, “I don’t want to discuss my underwear.”

“Red’s my favorite color.”

Sophie pretended not to hear him.

“I saw the scar on your back, too.”

Sophie stilled. She didn’t like talking about the scar with anyone—not even Nana. She blew out a breath. “I’d rather talk about my amazing red panties.”

“I recognize that kind of wound,” he said gently. “Where did the Alberich find you?”

“Who says they did?”

“Your scar.”

Fuck this. She used werewolf strength to shred the stubborn lace and whipped off her shoe and sock. She dumped them into a pile and stood up. “Don’t plan on sticking around,” she said. “We don’t need your help.”

Sophie rotated on her heel, her bare feet prickled by the uneven floor, and headed for the door that led into the house—and away from Trent.

“Sophie.”

The apology in his voice stalled her. Her hand clenched the old metal handle as she looked over her shoulder. “What?”

“I have one, too.” He turned around, and she saw the all too familiar mark left by an Alberich’s weapon—a long thick scar flared at both ends.

She’d never met anyone else who’d survived an Alberich attack. Mostly because the creatures were thought to be extinct and no longer a threat to werewolves. But one had found her in the Oregon forest. The encounter had changed her life, and put Broken Heart on high alert. For Trent to have the same scar meant he had fought them more than century ago.

Trent turned to face her, his gaze sympathetic. “We’re lucky.”

“You have a weird concept of ‘lucky.’” Tears threatening, Sophie hurried into the house—trying to run from the surfacing emotions, and the past that never seemed far enough behind.

Chapter Two

THE NEXT DAY at noon, Sophie cornered Nana in the kitchen. Leaning against the blue-tiled counter, she watched her grandmother stir the sizzling contents in the wok. She wore a blue shirt with long sleeves, a color that looked great against her pale skin, and pair of dark slacks. The older woman had short, permed silvery-gray hair and the darkest-brown eyes Sophie had ever encountered. Not like her own amber-brown or the soft brown of Trent’s eyes.

Speaking of... “Are you gonna stick with the story that Trent is a handyman?” she asked.

“He’s handy, and he’s a man. So, yes,” responded Nana. “I’m sticking with my story.”

“Right. And he just happens to be a survivor of an Alberich attack.”

“He is? Looks like you two have something in common. Maybe you can compare notes.”

“Nana.” She put her hand on her grandmother’s thin arm, stopping her from stirring the cooking veggies. “I’m fine.”

Nana put the spatula on the spoon rest. She turned and took Sophie’s hands. “You’re not fine. You still have nightmares. You’re jumpy and paranoid. You avoid contact with others. And you’re in pain, physical and emotional.”

She couldn’t deny her grandmother’s words. Night after night, the horrid memories morphed into worse dreams. Nana would wake her and then console her. Sometimes, Nana settled down next to Sophie and softly sang until she fell asleep. It shamed her to know that her fear had turned her into the grieving child she’d once been. After Sophie’s parents had died, Nana had taken in her emotionally wounded five-year-old grandchild and then loved her so unconditionally that Sophie had finally healed. She became a herbalist like her Nana. Her trip to Oregon had been to collect Oregon grape and other plants to create tinctures, teas, and topical ointments for her and Nana’s online herbal store.

That awful, fateful night, she’d camped deep in the woods, enjoying nature from both wolf and woman perspectives.

Then the Alberich found her.

And nearly killed her.

Crafted from pure silver and coated with wolfsbane, the Alberich weapon had been designed to cause the most damage and suffering possible before death. She’d survived, and mostly healed, but the scar on her back would never go away. As for the emotional trauma, she’d tried counseling. Talking about the attack didn’t help. Each retelling of the event only made her feel more vulnerable, weak and angry.

Nana placed a soft kiss on Sophie’s forehead, and then returned to cooking.

Sophie leaned a hip against the counter and watched her grandmother stir green peppers with slices of summer squash, cubes of chicken, and a healthy dose of soy sauce. Nana tossed in mushrooms and onions.

“Since when do we own a wok?” asked Sophie. Realization dawned. “You’ve been watching the shopping network again, haven’t you?”

“It’s that damned Hubert Larson. He could sell sunglasses to a blind man.”

“You are so in love with him,” teased Sophie. “Is it his shellacked hair? Or maybe the way he wears his trousers too high?”

“Don’t make fun of my TV boyfriend.” Nana shooed her away. “Why don’t you see if Trent has arrived with his things? Ask if he’s hungry. I’m making plenty.”

“He’s moving into the garage apartment today?”

“Why not?”

Sophie opened her mouth to respond, but her excellent hearing picked up the sound of car tires crunching on the gravel drive. Trent. The werewolf made her feel antsy...nervous...vulnerable. Okay, if she were a teensy bit honest with herself, she’d admit her unease had to do with the way her pulse jumped when she thought about him. And he’d survived the Alberich, too. She wanted to ask him about his encounter, but that meant she had to open up about her own experience and trauma, and she wasn’t going to do that.

The doorbell rang.

Sophie left the kitchen, taking reluctant steps toward the front door.

The doorbell rang again.

Her heart tripped over itself.

To catch the warm spring breeze, the front door had been propped open. Trent waited on the other side of the screen door, a duffel bag in his right hand. Wow. He looked good. The man was gorgeous enough to have her licking her chops.

“Hello,” he greeted as she pushed the door open. He stepped inside, his chest brushing against hers as he angled through sideways. Sensations fluttered through her. Sophie drew a deep breath, and she saw Trent’s nostrils flare. Great. She was probably putting out all kinds of sex pheromones. She might as well wear a sign that said, “Do me.”

“How’s it hanging?” he asked.

“Ha. Ha.” Sophie let go of the metal handle, and the door banged shut behind Trent. She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him.

His half-smile slid into a grin. He held up his bag. “Where to?”

“Follow me.” Sophie led him down the hallway and into the kitchen. Nana had disappeared, and the contents of the wok were now in a green bowl shaped like a fish.

“That smells...interesting,” said Trent.

“Nana is an experimental cook. Considered yourself warned.”

They entered the screened porch, and Sophie opened the back door, jumping over the three concrete steps. She heard Trent’s sneakers squeaking through the dewy grass as she led him across the yard.

Sophie and Trent reached the detached garage and climbed the rickety wood staircase attached to the outside. The door protested its opening with a loud screech. Sophie went inside, flipping on the light switch next to the door.

When had Nana cleaned up the place? The simple furnishings sparkled and glimmered. A bed, dresser, and desk made up the front area. In back was a small utilitarian kitchen. Sophie pointed to another door. “That’s the bathroom. Your closet is over there.”

Trent placed the bag on the bed and turned to face her. He crossed his arms, and the muscles bunched nicely. The man was built. Whew. His knowing smile made her squirmy, so she turned and checked the dresser for dust. He went to the bed and unzipped the duffel bag. She watched him take out folded T-shirts and jeans. A pair of high tops. A leather-bound journal. Already familiar—too familiar—with his front, Sophie felt compelled to check out his backside one more time. After all, she wanted to have a balanced view. It was only fair.

His brownish hair, slightly long, looked silky, soft. The muscles in his back moved under his tight white shirt. Sophie’s gaze dropped lower. His jeans fit perfectly around his rear end and the material molded to his muscular thighs.

He straightened swiftly and looked at her. Heat rose in her face when his lips curved upward. His expression said, Like what you see? There’s more. She swallowed her embarrassment, feeling like she’d been caught peeping at him naked through a window. She hugged herself and stepped backward.

“Why do I make you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Hmm. You don’t trust your instincts.” He nodded, his gaze empathetic. “I felt that way, too. Werewolves rely heavily on their senses. We don’t expect them to fail us.”

She wanted badly to ask about what happened to him, and how he recovered, but the words wouldn’t form. No one knew the whole truth about her experience. In a strange way, she felt her story, her pain, belonged to her. She owed no one an explanation, damn it.

“Do you need anything else?” she asked politely. “If I know Nana, she made sure you have towels and soap, dishes, and dry goods.”

“That’s great. Thanks. I’m looking forward to helping out.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re talking about me and not about the house?”

“I don’t know, Sophie.” He stepped just within her space, close enough to touch, and Sophie felt her stomach drop to her toes. All the air in the room seemed to disappear. She felt as if she stood inside a vacuum, her shallow breathing the only sound, Trent’s blue mesmerizing eyes the only sight. “Do you want my help?”

His question broke the spell between them, almost with an audible snap.

Relief shuddered through her as she collected her wits. She inhaled deeply. “No,” she said to him. “I don’t want you around at all.”

She noticed Trent’s expression. His eyes held too much sympathy. Here was a werewolf who’d survived the same terrible thing she had, and she couldn’t—wouldn’t—reach out.

She was a stubborn fool.

Trent leaned closer, and she caught another whiff of his woodsy aroma, a pure masculine scent. He had a strong jawline, high cheekbones, straight nose, and that dimple. The damn dimple. Her wolf form liked him, too.

Down, girl. We are so not going there.

“Don’t you think it’s time to move forward?”

Her gaze jerked from his chin to his eyes. “Forward?”

“With your life.”

She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with a stranger. What had Nana been thinking when she’d foisted this babysitter on her? She saw right through that whole handyman bullshit.

“Hey,” he said softly.

She paused her seething for a moment to consider him. Her gaze landed on his lips. Strong, firm, designed for kissing the daylights out of someone. She stifled a sigh. He probably had all kinds of kissing techniques designed to curl a werewolf’s toes. But kissing Trent would be like sampling a gourmet truffle. It would lead to her devouring the whole box. She knew it would be fulfilling and decadent. Then she’d feel sick and guilty for indulging herself and swear off the luscious candy...all the while craving more.

Yep. Trent was a Godiva chocolate...and she was on a diet.

“My life is none of your business,” she said flatly and with sharp regret at ending any possibility of trying out Trent’s lips. She tried to squelch all thoughts and sensations, but her body refused to take orders and continued to react to Trent’s presence. Run with him whispered her wolf. Howl with him.

“I understand,” he said, backing away with hands held up in surrender. “Just know that I’m here if you want to talk.”

“You’re at the top of my list right behind Oprah and Dr. Phil.” She shook her head when her sarcasm garnered her a cute and cheeky smile from Trent. She waved a hand at him. “Never mind. Lunch will be ready in a few minutes. Be sure to wash up. Nana’s been known to check under fingernails.”

“Noted,” he said.

“See you downstairs, then.” Sophie left as fast as her shaking legs could take her. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, she was nearly in a full-blown panic attack. She took several deep breaths and willed her heart to slow its rapid pace.

“You’re okay,” she whispered to herself. “You’re okay.”

“WHAT ARE YOU doing?”

Sophie’s suspicious voice startled Trent. Crouched on the kitchen floor, he’d been examining the rickety drawer slides. As he jerked up, his head connected with the underside of the drawer. Muttering a curse, he withdrew from the cabinet and looked up.

Sophie stood less than a foot away, nibbling her lower lip. She had her pale blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, hardly any makeup, just a little gloss on her pert, pink lips. Not that she needed any. Her eyes were brown, like his, only a lighter shade, almost golden. She had a smattering of freckles across her nose that made him want to get close enough to count each one of them.

She wore pink shorts and a crop top. Her bare midriff was tan and lean. His gaze was drawn to the dimple of her belly button. Oh, man. He’d better not let himself think about anything below her belly button. Or anything above it.

Trent rose, went to the refrigerator, and removed a tray of ice cubes. He popped out one, put it in his mouth, and returned the tray to the fridge. He’d been under Sophie’s surveillance all afternoon. This was his third ice cube in an hour. He crunched down, grateful for the coolness sluicing his throat.

She glanced at the cabinets. “If you’re looking for her will, Nana keeps it in her bedroom closet. She’s not the type to tape envelopes of cash under the kitchen drawers, either.”

“Darn.” Trent snapped his fingers. “What about stocks or bonds? Gold coins?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re joking.”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Relax, Sophie. I’m not going to filch the family silver. I’m just fixing the drawers. Remember,” he said, pointing at himself. “Handyman.”

Red crept into her cheeks. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

She looked down at her toes, painted a bright pink. “All the drawers stick. Some of the knobs are loose, too.”

“By the time I’m done, everything in the kitchen will be good as new.”

“Thanks. That’s great.” She looked away, taking a sudden interest in the stove. She was quiet, and he waited, sure that she wanted to connect with him.

Just open up a little, he thought, and I can take your pain.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then.”

Damn. She was stubborn. Trent watched the sway of her hips. The shorts molded her firm behind and showed off her long sleek legs. That blonde hair. Those amber eyes. That beautiful heart-shaped face with its slightly pointed chin. Man, he was in trouble. He groaned. He opened the freezer and took out another ice cube.

IN THE BASEMENT, Nana prepared herbs and flowers for drying, and Sophie hung them on the hemp rope strung across the room. The ingredients they used for salves, teas, and other ointments were in various stages of drying.

While Nana braided long spiky strands of rosemary, Sophie looked at her fragile, and all too human, grandmother. She wore a T-shirt and rolled-up jeans, penny loafers, and pink smock. Affection bubbled through her.

Nana looked up and grinned. “When’s the last time you got laid?”

The effervescent love for Nana fizzled. She got off the step ladder and put her hands on her hips. “What?”

“You heard me.” Nana tilted her head. “Maybe you should get your bell rung a time or two. That might be all you need to get some decent sleep.”

Sophie gaped at her grandmother.

The old woman laughed at her. “You need some pointers?” She threw up her sun-spotted hands. “Hey, don’t look so horrified. I was doing it long before you were born. I have this one trick that works every time. You grab his—”

Sophie put up her hand, palm out, in the universal sign for STOP. “I’m not taking sex advice from my grandmother.”

“Um…should I come back later?”

Sophie whirled at the sound of Trent’s amused voice. The glint of humor in his eyes told her that he’d heard most of the conversation.

Nana piped up. “We’re just talking about Sophie’s—”

“Feet.” Sophie bit her lower lip. “They ache.”

Nana chortled. “It’s her feet that ache, all right.” Sophie saw the calculating look Nana sent Trent. She loved the old gal, but at that moment she wanted to trip her. A hip fracture would give her something other than Sophie’s sex life to fixate on. Not a very nice thought, but the woman was throwing her granddaughter to the big, bad wolf. Literally.

Nana made a big show of looking at her watch. “I gotta go. Hubert’s gonna be on in a few minutes, and I need to get settled.” She swept past them and out the door. Her footsteps clattered up the basement stairs; then the door banged shut.

Sophie clasped her hands together and stared at Trent. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt, which defined his physique in a saliva-inducing show of muscles. He hooked his thumbs through the jean’s belt loops and rocked back on his heels. She inhaled a fortifying breath.

The expression on Trent’s handsome face did not reassure her. She wished he wasn’t blocking the only way out of the basement. Her knees always seem to wobble when she got too close to him. Surely, if she attempted to slide past, her knees would collapse, she’d topple over, and break her neck.

“Who’s Hubert?”

“Nana’s TV boyfriend. He’s as old as dirt and as greasy as lard, but Nana will watch that man from four p.m. to eight p.m. every day. She loves the shopping channel.”

“That explains a lot.”

“You have no idea.” Sophie felt jittery. Why did she feel so anxious about him? As though she might implode. Boom! Pieces of Sophie everywhere.

“How bad do your feet ache?” he asked. The sincerity in his voice made her flinch. “I’d be happy to assist you.”

“How?” she asked before she could stop the question. Damn it. “I mean—no.”

“I give great foot.”

The problem was that she had a sneaking suspicion he gave great everything, and she probably wouldn’t want him to stop with her feet. It had been a long while since she’d been intimate with anyone. Her last relationship had been more than a year ago, and it hadn’t been a serious one. Her desire for Trent was crazily intense.

The fantasy of Trent touching her, kissing her, was nirvana. Realistically, jumping into bed with him only to satisfy her physical needs wouldn’t be enough. That had never been her style. She wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of werewolf. Gah. Sophie shook her head, hoping the motion would realign her thought processes.

She caught his gaze. His fire dared her to get burned.

Her mouth went dry.

Her knees quivered.

Oh hell.

“I’ll pass on the foot rub,” she said, her voice going hoarse. She cleared her throat. “I appreciate the offer.”

“My pleasure. Let me know if you change your mind.” He smiled. The dimple appeared. Sophie briefly wondered about tasting that indentation. Stop. It. She wasn’t putting her lips anywhere near his mouth.

“How’d you like Nana’s lunch?” she asked going for the one full-proof way to change the subject.

“I’ve eaten dirty socks that tasted better.”

Well, he was honest. “I hope you were a wolf when you ate them.” She grinned. “C’mon, I’ll fix sandwiches.”

Trent gestured for her to go first, but gave her little room to maneuver. Her breasts brushed against his chest, again, as she edged out the door. Her nipples hardened, her skin tingled, and her breath shallowed. She’d never felt so hot and bothered by a man before. As if she would die if he didn’t touch her right now.

Sophie hurried to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, hoping the cool air would relieve her heated skin. As she grabbed the lunch fixings, Trent leaned against the counter. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine.” Sophie wasn’t about to discuss any Alberich-related topic with Trent. Irritation flashed. Nana had created this uncomfortable situation. She knew that Nana was worried about her. But this little plot of hers wasn’t what she needed to recover … was it?

Guilt niggled at her. She was shuffling along a crumbling ledge, a misstep away from plunging into the darkness and being consumed by it. Why couldn’t she accept help? If her king thought it was important to intervene, then it was obviously something she needed. But it didn’t mean she had to like it.

Sophie felt Trent’s gaze on her, but she concentrated on the sandwiches. She spread mustard on the bread slices and unwrapped the ham. “What did you do before becoming a handyman?”

“Lots of things. I was born in 1790.” An emotion flickered in Trent’s eyes as he took the sandwich Sophie offered him. She couldn’t quite define it. Guilt? Grief? Worry? Hmm. She opened the refrigerator and took out a couple of sodas. “In a glass or straight from the can?”

“The can is fine, thank you.”

“I was born in the 1980s. So you’re what, more than two-hundred years older than me?”

“In werewolf years that’s nothing.”

“True.” She handed him a can, and they sat down in the breakfast nook. The windows looked out onto the rolling green fields edged by forest. Nature called to her on so many levels.

“It’s beautiful out there,” said Trent. “You want to go for a run?”

Shifting and taking a nice, long run sounded good. But she’d rarely taken her wolf form since the Alberich had tried to kill her. She’d been in wolf form then, too. The few times she shifted, she felt strange. It scared her.

Memory flashed.

The beast came at her screaming, wielding a terrifying weapon. She felt the imprint of the doubly curved blade on her back. She howled in pain, and instantly, there were a bright light and a thousand stars raining down on her.

“Sophie?”

She swallowed the knot in her throat. “No, thank you” she said softly. She excused herself and left. The only way to get rid of the shakes and the feelings of impending doom was to occupy herself so thoroughly she didn’t have time to contemplate.

She went into the basement, feeling better the minute the fragrant smell of earth and its gifts hit her nose. She set her mind on finishing the herbs for drying and tried not to think about her wolf, about the Alberich, or about Trent.

Yeah, right.

Chapter Three

“I’LL TAKE THE cuckoo clock and the punch bowl set,” Nana said into the phone. Her gaze was glued to the TV, specifically the shopping channel as Hubert enthusiastically endorsed everything from cutlery to dog beds. “Give me one of those wind chimes, too.”

Trent watched in fascination as Virginia Lennox ordered a potato peeler and a cubic zirconia ring. Earlier, she’d invited him to join her in the living room, and he’d accepted because he’d hoped to get more information about Sophie. He needed something, anything at this point, to get female werewolf’s cooperation.

Virginia occupied the comfy pink wingback to the left of the equally pink couch, where Trent stretched out. Sophie, however, had spent the rest of the day avoiding him and continued to do so.

“Ooh,” squealed the old gal. “I need the extra large dog bed.” She glanced at Trent. “You like tan or green?”

“I’m partial to green.”

“The green one, please.” Satisfied with her purchases, she hung up the phone.

“Virginia, did you just buy me a dog bed?”

“Consider it a wolf bed.”

He smiled. Then he ventured, “You’re not a werewolf.”

“Nope.” She glanced at him. “I married one. Henry was a single dad, and he had a two-year-old daughter. Her name was Alice—that was Sophie’s mom. I couldn’t have children with Henry, but I considered that baby girl mine.”

“Do you know anything about Alice’s mother?”

“Henry never talked about her.” Virginia’s gaze went distant. “They died together, you know. Henry, Alice, and her mate, Mark. We lived in northern California. They’d gone off to howl at the moon. Died in a forest fire. All three of them.” She paused, her voice heavy with grief. “Sophie had just turned five. It’s been her and me ever since. She wasn’t around her own kind that much. When I heard about Broken Heart, it was a no-brainer to move here.”

“Has she talked to you about what happened in Oregon?”

“Not really. She’s good at avoidance. But that’s why you’re here isn’t it? To get her talking and dealing with it so she can move on with her life.”

Unease skittered up his spine. Virginia didn’t know the full breadth of his job here. He wanted to help Sophie, that most of all, but he also needed to get her ready. She had a gift. Like his. Together, they were the only ones who could stop the Alberich from killing more werewolves.

“I know Sophie’s been prickly, but she’ll come around.” Her sharp brown eyes studied him. “Something happened to her. I don’t just mean the attack. Something else. I think her keeping whatever secret she’s carrying is eating away at her.”

Trent agreed. “I wish there was a way to get her out of her comfort zone.”

“Good luck with that. She hasn’t been out of Broken Heart since she came back. Hell, getting that child to go into town is like pulling cow teeth.”

“Why would you pull cow teeth?”

“You wouldn’t. That’s why it’s hard.”

Trent didn’t understand the allegory, but maybe that was the point.

Virginia looked thoughtful. After a brief moment of quiet contemplation, she skewered him with a suspicious gaze. “You sure that whole getting-out-of-her-comfort-zone thing would help Sophie?”

He thought about his answer, going over the pros and cons. He nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay then.” She stood and stretched. “Time for me to turn in. You want the remote?”

“No, thanks. I think I’ll turn in, too.”

She turned off the TV, reached down, and patted Trent on the shoulder. “You do right by my girl.”

“I will. I promise.”

After Virginia had left, the room seemed unbearably stuffy with the weight of his burden. He only hoped he could keep his word. He wanted to do right by Sophie, but he worried. Despite knowing, or rather believing, that she was the key to ridding the world of Alberich once and for all, he hadn’t expected the overwhelming attraction. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, the way she looked, the way she smelled, and the way she made his pulse race. No, he hadn’t expected the intense chemistry when he’d pulled into the old farmstead, but Sophie made him feel like a teenage pup in the bloom of adolescence. For a werewolf his age, he should have better control. Even when he said things to her meant to help her, even to himself, he could hear the double meaning.

He walked through the kitchen, exiting out the back door. Chirping crickets greeted his entrance onto the enclosed porch. The screened door leading outside screeched loudly, and Trent winced at the echoing noise. Stars winked at him from the night sky, and a spring breeze teased his senses with the faint scent of honeysuckle. He thought of Sophie and his promise to her grandmother.

I’ll help you, Sophie. No matter what.

TRENT ROLLED TO his side and plumped the goose down pillow. The bedsprings squeaked, and he grimaced. The quiet dark of the room engulfed him, and he stilled, looking out the open window at the clear night. He was tempted to shift and run off he excess energy building within him. He’d absorbed more of Sophie’s stress and fear than he’d intended. She had a surprising way of getting through his barriers. It was just another sign that she was the other half. His other half, he supposed. The ability to heal, to take her pain, was part of the gift he had been granted. When they went against the Alberich, she would need him for healing, for energy, as she prevented catastrophe.

All the same, he couldn’t let her, however unintentionally, steal his energy. He’d need every bit of his strength and ability to help her. Her trauma was deeply embedded, mind, body, and soul. He’d have to go slow with her, absorbing her pain a little at a time until she was strong enough to handle the truth. And the ominous task before them both.

The werewolf queen, Kelsey, was the only person who could understand his ability and the toll it could take. Thanks to her heritage as a changeling, she had empathic abilities. She’d accidentally learned how to absorb emotions from others. Her talent was different from his. She was more powerful, especially after becoming a werewolf, and she’d been born with her gift. His had been bestowed. The power had been had absorbed at the cellular level—magic and genetics binding together. And he only had empathic abilities with one person. Sophie. It was further proof that she was the one.

He knew well the terror and struggle of dealing with his demons. It was why he identified so easily with Sophie. So, he needed to control the fierce yearning for the lovely werewolf. That longing was almost a living creature within him, devouring his good intentions bite by bite. His cock reacted to the mere image of Sophie with her soft pink lips, her wide brown eyes, and her silky blonde hair.

No, no. Don’t think of her.

He sighed, adjusted himself and tugged at his now uncomfortable boxer-briefs. Sophie. The mere thought of the bewitching woman disturbed his very core. He’d never reacted to a woman so immediately and with such...intensity. Not even his wife. She’d been fierce and strong, and he’d loved her. They had volunteered to be the weapon, and she had given her life for the pack. It had taken him a long time to stop feeling the acute pain of her loss, and the guilt that he’d been unable to save her. With Damian’s help, he’d managed to keep going. To keep living. But now that he’d met Sophie, he wondered if he’d been living or merely existing?

What’s wrong with you?

When they’d fallen into the puddle, he’d been jolted to his core. Even with mud spattering her face, he’d seen the freckles on her nose. Her blonde hair had been drawn into a ponytail. He wondered how she’d look with it down around her bare shoulders. Trent reigned in his thoughts. Don’t go there, he warned his libido. He would not think about how close her luscious mouth had been to—damn. His blood stirred, pure lust claiming him. Red underwear, sassy lips, and those secretive dark eyes should not be enough to justify the raw heat coursing through him.

Trent cursed as his cock hardened to full mast, poking against the thin barrier of his underwear. Think ice. Glacier. North Pole. Antarctica. The whole concept of freezing cold did nothing to cool his ardent response to the image he had of Sophie. Stop it, Trent. You can’t help her if you think only of having sex with her.

He waited, emptying his mind of other lurid thoughts, allowing the tepid breeze to wash over his body. Maybe he just needed a cold drink with a hundred ice cubes. Maybe a two-day cold shower. Trent smiled ruefully.

Despite her strong reaction to him, Trent knew Sophie suspected him of some chicanery. She wouldn’t be pleased with his false pretenses. Besides, Trent sensed Sophie was not a one-night stand kind of woman. He suspected she wasn’t even a have-an-affair kind of woman. No, Sophie Lennox had an invisible sign that read “For Long Term Commitment Only.”

He supposed that was a boon, in a way, because they would need each other for a while. In these modern times, werewolves were not superstitious, but some were old enough to remember the Alberich, and his own sordid tale. He winced as he thought of his wife, Laura, gone almost a century now. He’d wished for his own death for nearly a decade after hers. But as the years passed, he’d been able to let go. Being without her no longer hurt. And there lay a conundrum. If she’d been his true mate, he wouldn’t have gotten over her at all. He’d witnessed the way Damian loved Kelsey, and it was not the same as with Damian’s former wife. Granted that had been an arranged marriage. Yet, Kelsey and Damian were connected at a soul-deep level. So, on top of the guilt that he’d failed to protect Laura was this new burden: That she had not been his true mate.

Trent turned away from those painful thoughts, and refocused on Sophie. If there had been another werewolf like him, someone who could help take his pain, would he have accepted the help? Sophie’s trauma had been different from his own. Surely her pain was something she longed to let go. He hoped the moment to tell her about his true purpose and his psychic healing abilities would come sooner than later.

Trent pounded the pillow again, and gave up trying to fluff it.

Sleep would not come easy tonight. He rolled off the bed and moved to the window, looking out into the backyard. The branches of a huge oak tree rose to meet the night sky; its leafy foliage blocked part of the glittering stars. The creak of the tire-swing rope made him look down. Sophie clung to the tire, her laughter soft as she twirled around and around, her ponytail whipping about. She wore a shirt and jeans, her feet bare. Her enticing long legs stretched out, and then she grasped the top of the tire and leaned back.

His heart lurched. He watched her, envying the damn tire every time she scooted her sweet little bottom forward and back.

He couldn’t resist her. He told himself this was the most relaxed he’d ever seen her, and would be a good time to try and reach her.

But the truth was, he just wanted to be near her.

He dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top and went outside barefoot. October was chilly in Oklahoma, but werewolves ran hot.

Too hot.

He approached her and asked, “Need a push?”

“Oh!”

He barely registered Sophie’s startled expression when the tire swung around, bringing her fabulous legs into brutal contact with his all too sensitive groin. Pain exploded. He bent over, his breath leaving his body in a strangled whoosh.

“I’m sorry,” cried Sophie. She extracted herself from the swing and hovered at his side, patting his back.

“Do you want to sit down?”

“No,” he groaned, working hard not to vomit. “Let me die in peace.”

“Oh, Trent. I didn’t mean to.” Obviously distressed, she moved to stand in front of him and rubbed his shoulders. “What can I do?”

The pain eventually receded to a dull ache, and Trent slowly straightened. Thank God she hadn’t had more momentum, or he’d be worried about the ability to make werewolf babies. He looked down at her. Her eyes were filled with remorse and concern. She continued rubbing his shoulders. He captured her hands and pressed them to his chest. “That’s not where it hurts.”

She sharply inhaled as she glanced at the front of his shorts. “Well, I’m not rubbing anything down there.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t intend for you to, Sophie.” But he wouldn’t have stopped her if she’d wanted to give it a try.

Her hands felt small and warm under his. His heart pounded triple time, and his throat felt dry. Moonlight trickled through the oak’s foliage, but it barely penetrated the cocoon of darkness. He felt like he and Sophie were the only two people in the world. She looked at him, a question in her eyes. Her hands grew restless, but his fingertips stroked the soft skin, and she stilled.

Don’t do this, Trent, whispered Logic. It’ll complicate everything.

“May I kiss you?” he asked.

You are so stupid, hissed Logic.

She stared at him. “What?”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.” Trent looped her arms around his neck, relieved when she left them there. He grasped her waist, hands trembling. He felt close to something important.

World-changing.

Sophie.

The sweet weight of her breasts pressed against him, and despite his recent “accident,” his body stirred at her nearness. She looked up at him, almost shyly, and he watched the play of emotions on her face. Trent lowered his head, his mouth only a whisper away, and waited, hoping Sophie would decide his lips were worthy of hers.

SOPHIE WAS DESPERATELY tempted by Trent’s magnificent mouth. She was afraid of the rapid pounding of her heart, afraid of the wobbly feel of her knees, afraid of the attraction to the handsome man before her asking so sweetly for a kiss.

She closed the distance and brushed her lips against his.

Electricity jolted straight through her right down to her toes. Her arms tightened around his neck, and he took the hint, drawing her more deeply into his embrace. His lips took hers again and again until he split the seam of her mouth with his tongue, and started a dance that made heart pour through her. Her fingers slid through his soft, wavy hair and she pressed even harder against him. She felt his heart thundering against her own.

Pheromones thickened the air, the musky scent of their mutual need building their desire to new, desperate fiery heights.

Trent regained control first.

He pulled away, just a little, his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breathing. He had a dazed look in his eyes and his lips held the plumpness of a mouth well-kissed. If she needed any other evidence of his desire, she needed only to focus on the thick length of his cock bulging through his shorts and against her stomach.

Sophie followed his lead and attempted to get her hormones under control.

She focused on the wind-strewn leaves cavorting on the ground. Sophie watched their dance, slightly mesmerized, as she tried to calm the jitters running through her.

“Sophie?” Trent’s deep voice sounded both reassuring and maddening sensual.

She faced him. “I don’t think I’m ready for this. Whatever this is. I’m…just…you know.” She frowned and rubbed her forehead. She wasn’t making any sense. The man even affected her sentence structure.

“I’m not sorry we kissed,” said Trent. “But I’ll back off. I want you to trust me.” He brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. “Do you believe I want to help you?”

She gazed up at him. Unable to discern the emotions on his shadowed features, she decided he sounded sincere. Sophie nodded slowly. “I believe that. But trust is another issue.”

“I understand.”

He let her go, and stepped away. She immediately missed his warmth, not to mention the feeling of being wanted. Her feelings skittered close to the edge of true caring.

Suddenly, a low throb started in her head. She rubbed her temples. The ache sharpened, drawing a hiss of pain from her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Headache.”

The pain increased, nearly buckling her knees. Trent steadied her. “Do you have headaches often?”

“No, I—” Sudden fear froze her. Eyes wide, she looked at him. His gaze darkened with concern. “The last time I felt this way, the Alberich attacked.” Panic rioted through her. “No. Not in Broken Heart. We’re safe here. Right?” She started shaking, her teeth clacking together.

He placed his fingertips on her temples. He looked at her, his expression calm, his gaze steady. “Look at me, Sophie.”

She obeyed his gentle command and stared deeply into his eyes.

“Stay with me,” he said very, very softly.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “Right here.”

Sophie felt warmth where Trent’s fingers rested on her scalp. The warmth turned into a pleasant tingling, and she felt the panic pulled from her like air escaping from a balloon. As she stared at Trent, his warm brown eyes turned a fiery gold, pure and bright, and as every second passed, she felt calmer.

Then Trent closed his eyes and let go of her head, stepping back. She watched gold tears leak from his eyes and wiggle like spastic worms over his body. They sank into Trent’s flesh, lighting his skin briefly before disappearing all together.

“What just happened?” she asked.

Trent opened his eyes, and he looked exhausted. “I think you’ll sleep better now.”

“Are you some kind of magical werewolf?”

He laughed. “No. Not really. I have an ability to absorb pain.” He swayed before steadying himself. “I need to rest now.”

She had questions, a lot of questions, but Trent appeared pale and utterly exhausted. Her worry for him stopped her from pummeling him for answers. Her concern grew as she saw him sway. She reached out and grabbed his shoulder, trying to steady him. “Are you all right?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” he said. “I forgot how it felt.”

“Do you want me to help you up the stairs?

“I’ll be fine.” He took her hand off his shoulder and lifted it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Good night, Sophie.”

“Good night, Trent.”

He turned and walked slowly toward the garage, obviously in pain, as he limped up the stairs. She wanted to catch up to him, to help him somehow, but he’d made it clear that he didn’t want her help. There was a big part of her that was completely freaked out about watching gold tears swim into his skin. But she felt better. Unnaturally so.

What the hell had Nana and Queen Patsy cooked up?

And who…or what…was Trent Clayton?

Chapter Four

THE PHONE RANG. Sophie groggily opened one eye. It rang again, and she groaned. She’d slept well for the first night since, well, ever. Whatever mojo Trent used to take her pain, she was grateful. Weirded out, but totally appreciative.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

She grabbed the receiver. “What?”

“Sophie! How are you, darling?”

“Brianna. It’s...” Sophie tried to find her cell phone and check the time but soon gave up. “Morning.”

“It’s almost brunch, darling. Come to Zerina’s and catch up. I have mimosas.”

Sophie usually enjoyed Brianna’s impromptu visits. She was a fae, like Zerina, although a great deal less prone to revenge magic. Zee was well known for changing people’s hair colors—or removing the hair entirely in the case of one particularly persistent werewolf—if she got miffed.

“I love you, Bri. But there is no brunch on this earth grand enough to make me get out of bed.”

“You’re impossible.” Brianna heaved a melodramatic sigh. I’ll be there tonight at six sharp so we can get all dolled up.”

“Okay.” Dolled up? Crap. “Wait. Remind me.”

“You forgot.”

“I did not.” She bit her lip. “I’m nursing a sleep hang over. Brain’s fuzzy.”

“I put together a magical soiree once a year, and you can’t even bother to mark your calendar?”

“It’s been a difficult year.”

“I heard, sweetie,” said Brianna. “And I’m sorry. What happened to you was awful. But I will not let you sit around on your cute werewolf ass and miss my party.”

Sophie knew there was no way she’d get out of the fae’s annual Halloween bash. This was the first time that Brianna had hosted it in Broken Heart, and Sophie had promised, eight months before, that she would attend.

Besides, she didn’t want to risk Zee’s ire and suddenly have fur the color of an Easter egg. “All right. Six tonight. I’m all yours.”

“That’s my girl. Smooches!”

Sophie hung up the phone and lay her head back down on the pillow. She would rest her eyes for a little while longer, she told herself. But just as she drifted back to sleep, the sounds of hammering bolted her awake.

THE SHOE HIT him in the head. Trent stopped hammering and looked down. Sophie was a sight to behold. Her long white T-shirt nightgown read, “Mornings Suck.” She wore no bra, and he saw the faint outline of her panties. Her hair stuck up as if it were trying to leap off her head. She had the other shoe in her hand, ready to lob at him. She looked bleary-eyed, puffy, and he wanted to kiss her again.

“Not a morning person, huh?” he asked.

“I hate you.”

He grinned. “Well, if it helps, there’s only two hours of morning left. It’s after ten a.m.”

“I’m aware. Do you have to fix the staircase now?”

“I guess I can risk breaking my neck a few more times.”

She sighed and grabbed the previously thrown shoe from the ground. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Fully recovered. And I slept well.”

“I did, too.” She paused. “Thank you. For taking my pain.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Do you need any help?”

“If you want to help, go to the kitchen. I think your grandmother’s cooking breakfast in the wok.”

She groaned. “Not the wok.”

“Afraid so.”

They stared at each other for an endless moment before he cleared his throat. “I heard there was some kind of party tonight.”

“Yeah. Are you going?”

“I might. If you’ll go with me.”

He saw a flash of disappointment in her expression.

“I’m going with the host,” said Sophie, regret evident in her voice.

“Save me a dance?”

She nodded. “It’s a fae party. Be prepared for glitter.”

“Noted.”

“Guess I’ll save breakfast.” Sophie stepped back, turned, and walked away.

Trent watched her walk into the house. Last night, it had taken him a couple of hours to deal with the pain and panic he’d siphoned from Sophie. He knew more of her struggle now, and he was more determined than ever to help her.

Even if he had to go to a fae party to do it.

NANA WAS NOT in the kitchen. The wok was in the sink. Considering the nostril-burning stench wafting from the disposal, Sophie guessed breakfast had not been a success.

She found her grandmother in what Sophie dubbed the “Shopping Channel Rejects” room. It used to be the sewing room, but the sewing machine had long since disappeared under the growing pile of junk: Elvis prints, neon-glow blankets, flower-shaped candy bowls, and something called The Atomizer. Nana claimed the pretzel-shaped contraption strengthened thigh muscles. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the blinds, giving a rosy hue to the crap crowding into every available space. Nana pawed through a bright purple trunk, muttering as she tossed out random items.

A neon yellow high heel barely missed Sophie. She moved back to avoid getting whacked by tennis racket and a bag full of yarn. “Nana! What are you doing?”

“I gotta find my lucky bingo marker. Betty Lee is picking me up so we can go to Ultimate Bingo.”

“What’s Ultimate Bingo?”

“Big prizes. Shiny trophies. Free drinks.” Nana continued her frantic search.

A curling iron sailed through air, followed by a large stuffed teddy bear wearing a glittery red tutu. Wow. She needed to cancel the cable. Her grandmother was addicted to buying useless products.

“Ah-ha!” Nana triumphantly held up the large green bingo marker. She rose to her feet, holding her prize.

Sophie watched as her grandmother straightened the rest of her outfit—a mauve pantsuit, short-sleeved white blouse, and low-heeled white pumps. She wore her pearl necklace and earrings. Her grandmother looked charming and fragile—someone right out of a Hallmark card commercial.

Nana burped. “Wow. Breakfast is really doing a number on me.”

Scratch the Hallmark moment.

“What the hell happened to your hair?” Nana poked at it with her bingo marker.

Sophie batted away Nana’s hand. “Stop it.”

Poke. Poke. Poke.

“Nana!”

“You are such a grump in the mornings.”

“I know. How long will you be gone?”

“What are you, my mother?”

Sophie arched an eyebrow.

“Oh, ignore me. I’m just overly excited.” Nana kissed her cheek. “I love you, honey. Now wish me luck!”

“Good luck.”

A car horn beeped, and Nana waved, her smile wide. “That’s Betty Lee. I’m outtie.”

She clacked down the stairs and slammed the front door shut.

Well. Okay, then.

AT A QUARTER till six that evening, Sophie opened the front door. Brianna entered, carrying at least four shopping bags. She dropped them and hugged Sophie so hard her spine cracked. The fae wore a white skirt, white calf boots, and a beautiful green silk shirt, which matched her eyes.

“So happy to see you! We have much work to do.”

“But you’re already dressed for the party.”

Brianna laughed. “No, sweetie. This is the outfit I’m wearing to doll you up. Then I’ll switch into my fabu party dress.”

“Hey! What’s wrong with me?”

“Your hair, your make-up, and your clothes. Did I leave out anything?” She grinned impishly, revealing dimpled cheeks.

“What are in the bags?”

She looked expectantly at her. “The Sophie make-over kit.”

Brianna worked her magic, and an hour later, Sophie stared at a stranger in the mirror. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a Grecian style. A gold band glittered from the top and long curls draped her neck. Brianna had applied her make-up, giving her sultry eyes, slimmed-down cheeks, and pouty lips. The outfit, however, skirted the edge of decency. The filmy light green material of the dress swirled in layers at her mid-thigh. The top hugged her curves and gave her an amazing amount of cleavage. A jacket made out of the same filmy material draped her arm. Dazzling gold heels, dangling gold earrings and a gold bracelet twisting up her right arm completed the ensemble.

“Wow, Brianna. I don’t recognize me.”

“Oh, this is you, honey. We just had to peel off the rough layers, is all.” Brianna clapped her hands. “My turn!”

PATSY ROUNDED THE corner of the one-of-a-kind oak desk, walked past the chrome bar that housed expensive wines, dodged the mini-conference table with its plush chairs, and rounded the corner of the massive desk. She rarely used her office located in the Consortium’s compound. Being the queen of the vampires, and mom to four blood wolves and a human, was a lot of damned work. Good thing she was getting better at delegating. Her office on the second floor with its large windows had scenic advantages, and she stared at the darkened land that stretched out before her. The night called to her. She wanted nothing more than to shed her human skin and enjoy the wild. Especially if she could do so with Gabriel.

Her husband planned to meet her at the fae party. Tonight, she’d take off the crown of the werewolf king and wear instead the mantle of wife.

Patsy sat down at the desk and leaned back in the brown leather chair. Propping her feet on the cherry wood desk, he scanned The Broken Heart Banner. After, she stared at the stack of files in her inbox.

When had being the vampire leader been reduced to paperwork and meetings?

Patsy sighed.

How much damned adulting was a blood wolf supposed to do in a day?

She heard the click of the doorknob turning. Gabriel entered purposively. The expression on his face had Patsy straightening in her chair.

“We’ve sighted a group of Alberich.”

“Where?”

“New Mexico. Humans have been reporting sightings of Bigfoot across the state. We checked it out. It’s confirmed. The Alberich are headed in our direction. They travel at night, and for the most part, have kept themselves hidden. They’ve got the protection of someone very powerful.”

“How many?”

“Five.”

“Five is plenty enough to destroy Broken Heart and everyone in it. Hell, it’s enough to ravage Oklahoma and beyond.” She shook her head. “We need to find out who’s controlling them.”

Gabriel flopped into one of the wingback chairs that faced the desk. “I told Damian and his brothers to stay in Germany.”

“How’d that go over?”

He shook his head. “Not well. I had to call in Aufanie and Tark.”

“You told on him to his mommy and daddy?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, my love.” He captured her gaze. “We can handle this, right?”

“Hell, yeah.”

“Should we call off the party?” he asked.

“No need to panic everyone just yet. Besides, Brianna would have both our pelts if we dared to cancel it.”

Gabriel chuckled. He sobered quickly, though. “Will Sophie be ready?”

“Trent’s working with her, but she’s traumatized. She doesn’t understand why she survived. And her memory is patchy.” She stood up, rounded the desk, and sat in her husband’s lap. She smoothed his brow. “We need to tell her.”

“Let’s give Trent a little longer. If we try to force Sophie’s memories, it could do more harm than good.” Gabriel wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her.

“We may not have a choice,” said Patsy.

“I know,” said Gabriel. “Let’s hope for the best…”

“…and plan for the worst.”

Chapter Five

THE BARN, LOCATED on an abandoned farm on the outskirts of Broken Heart, had been transformed into a disco palace. The pounding music reverberated loudly and Sophie’s werewolf ears throbbed. The curse of having superior senses, she supposed. She studied the floor-to-ceiling brass poles, decorated with glitter, of course. Rumor had it the place had once been a strip joint called Barley and Boobs. That was before Broken Heart had become a parakind community protected from the outside world. The only humans who lived here now remained connected to the paranormal, such as vampire donors or mates.

Sophie and Brianna squeezed through the crowd to the makeshift bar and ordered champagne. Oh, look. Edible glitter.

“Drink up, darling.” Brianna grinned, tipped her glass and drank. Sophie did the same.

“Let’s boogie!” Brianna dragged her to the dance floor.

Holding their glasses high, they gyrated to the music. After a while, the tension slid from Sophie’s body. She hadn’t been out like this in a long, long time, and it felt good. Damn good.

“You have a secret,” said Brianna.

Brianna’s words froze her. How could she possibly know what Sophie hid? She’d told no one. Not even Kelsey. Besides, those sessions were completely confidential.

Brianna hit Sophie with a radiant smile. “What’s his name?”

Oh. That secret.

Sophie nonchalantly sipped her drink, swayed to the music, and played dumb. “Who?”

“The guy who has your tail twisted in a knot. Is it true love, darling?” Brianna looked at her, her smile gentle. “It’s better to know love and suffer its arrows than never to know it at all.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I have no idea. I heard a human say it once.”

The barn door slid open, and a jumble of people entered, laughing and talking. Sophie glanced at them and nearly swallowed her tongue. Trent. He’d arrived with Gabriel and Patsy.

Brianna craned her neck around. “What? Did you see a movie star? A ghost? An ex-lover?” She wiggled her brows. “A new lover?”

Sophie gulped hard, nearly choking on her drink. Trent was dressed in Converse sneakers, tight faded jeans, and a Polo shirt. The werewolves took a table near the dance floor. She saw Trent searching the crowd, and when his eyes connected with hers, he smiled.

Sophie’s heart ached for him, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go.

“Don’t keep me in suspense, darling! Who is it?”

“None of your business,” she snapped.

Brianna danced around in a circle until she faced the same direction as Sophie. “Found him! Blue polo, jeans, and devastating smile. His naughty gaze is totally undressing you.” Brianna whirled again, shimmying her hips and Sophie followed, realizing too late that her friend had danced them practically next to Trent’s table. His appreciative gaze took in her appearance. His eyes went dark, desire widening his irises.

Brianna giggled. Then grabbed Sophie’s arm and dragged her back into the dancers.

“What are you doing?”

“Making him chase you,” she said gleefully. “Men of all species love the chase.”

“I’m not the prize in a hunting contest.”

“But you could be,” Brianna said.

Sophie put her fists on her hips. “But I’m not.”

“Werewolves! You take everything so seriously.” Brianna led Sophie to a darkened corner of the barn and kept them in the shadows. “Let’s see how much he wants you.”

TRENT CUT THROUGH the dancers, unable to see Sophie or the fae. He fought to control the emotions twisting inside him. The outfit she’d worn, a pale green dress that accented every curve of her sensual body, he’d nearly swallowed his tongue. And when their eyes connected for the split second, he knew without a shadow of a doubt he wanted Sophie. Badly. Every cell in his being called out for her. Her touch. Her kiss. Her words.

With a groan of frustration, he stopped searching and returned to the table. Gabriel looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” He drank his beer and shared a look with his wife.

Patsy leaned over, placing a hand on his arm. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve been struck by lightning.”

“I think it’s worse than that,” he said.

“Things are complicated with Sophie?”

“More so than expected.”

Patsy squeezed his arm. “You’re not giving up on her, are you?”

“Hell, no.” The vehement force in which he said the words not only surprised Patsy, it surprised Trent as well. He meant them. He would not give up on Sophie Lennox. Ever. He was beginning to suspect he needed her as much as she needed him...even if she didn’t know it yet.

“Then why are you sitting here?” Patsy asked. “Go, already.”

Trent kissed Patsy’s cheek, waved good-bye to his friends, and once again, weaved through the crowd of enthusiastic dancers. He thought he saw the pale green of Sophie’s dress in the back of the barn. He followed that spot of green to a shadowy corner where Sophie and Brianna sat at a lone table sipping bubbly drinks.

Brianna’s curious gaze swept him from head to feet, her smile curling as she reached some conclusion.

“May I?” Trent gestured to the empty chair.

“I insist,” said Brianna. She held out her hand. “I’m Brianna. Best friend, confidante, and all-around-wonderful fae.”

“Trent Clayton. Handyman, werewolf, and all-around-good guy,” Trent clasped Brianna’s offered hand. He sat down. “You throw a helluva party.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.” She laughed. She pointed a bejeweled finger at him. “Oo-la-la. You have certainly put a spell on our Sophie.”

“I have?” He looked at Sophie. His heart thundered in his chest, and his palms turned clammy. Shit. “Hi, Sophie.”

“Hi, Trent.” Her gaze was on his. He could sense her desire in her expression, her body language, and in the raging pheromones that matched his own. Sophie wanted him as badly as he wanted her—at least that’s what he hoped.

Brianna popped to her feet and announced, “I need more bubbly.” She waved at Sophie and Trent, and then, disappeared into the crowd.

“Is she coming back?” asked Trent.

“Probably not. She has the attention span of a spastic puppy.”

“Ah.” Trent took Brianna’s seat so he could be closer to Sophie. A flowery scent infiltrated his senses, and underneath, the subtle scent of Sophie. His mouth dried, and he swallowed the nervous knot in his throat. She was beautiful. He curbed his desire to kiss the daylights out of her. Instead, he plucked a blonde curl from her shoulder. “You look beautiful. The dress is terrific.”

“Thank you.” Self-consciously, she pulled up on the fabric near her ample cleavage. “Brianna’s work.”

Trent heard the quick intake of breath as he used the curl to trace her collarbone. She wet her lips. Her lush mouth begged for a kiss, and her brown eyes telegraphed a potent desire.

Trent played with the silky tendril of hair, wrapping it around his finger, then dropped it. He stood, his gaze never leaving Sophie’s face, and caressed her neck until his fingers reached the fluttering pulse at the base of her throat. Her breath hitched, her lips parted, and no longer able to resist; Trent leaned close.

“I can’t resist you.” He cupped the back of her neck and gave her a fraction of a second to reject his advances before capturing her lips. She tasted of mints and alcohol. He traced her closed lips with his tongue, and she instantly opened under his tender onslaught.

Trent drank her earthy sweetness, tasting the corners, nibbling her lower lip. She swallowed her breathless moan, and only then did he slide his tongue inside, drawing her into an intimate dance, deepening his possession.

Fire raced through his veins as Sophie responded, mating her mouth to his, stroking and suckling, with an animalistic fierceness that matched his own.

“Let’s get out of here,” Trent murmured.

Sophie pulled away, her eyes swirling with need and desire. Doubt seeped into her gaze, and he ached to wipe that look from her eyes. She still didn’t trust him, and he wanted Sophie’s trust. Right now, though, he’d settle for whatever she gave him. He lowered his head and took Sophie’s mouth again, pouring the heat of his blood, the thunder of his heart, the cry of his soul into their kiss.

When they pulled apart, Sophie whispered, “Let’s go.”

Slipping out of the barn, Trent clasped Sophie’s hand as they walked through the high grass. The moon shone, and the stars twinkled. Wind rattled through the trees, harmonizing with the cricket night songs. Trent inhaled the faint scents of roses and honeysuckle. When he glanced at Sophie, she was staring at him.

“Sophie.” He let go of her hand and drew her into his embrace. “I want to touch you. Kiss you. Make love to you.”

Her eyes went wide, and she sucked in a startled breath. “We hardly know each other, Trent.” Her brows dipped into a frown. “I know you said you’re trying to help me. And you did manage to take away my panic. But there’s more going on, isn’t there? You’re keeping secrets from me.”

“So are you,” he said softly. “More happened to you in Oregon. There are details you haven’t shared.” He cupped her cheek. “You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.”

The shrill ring of her cell phone startled her. Saved by the bell. She opened her clutch and pulled out the smart phone. The display said, “Nana.”

“Did you win at Ultimate Bingo?”

“No time, Sophie. This is my only call.” Nana’s sigh would’ve filled up a hot air balloon. “I’m in the joint. The clink. The slammer. The big J!”

Sophie stilled, comprehension slowly dawning. “What did you do?”

“I decked Elvis.”

“You what?”

“It’s a long story. Short version: I’m in jail. I need you to bail me out.”

“Oh, my God. Which jail?”

“The one in Las Vegas.”

“Las Vegas, Nevada?”

“No, Las Vegas, France,” snarked Nana. “I suggest hopping on the nearest vampire. It’s faster than booking a flight.” Nana hung up, but Sophie listened to the dial tone for a full ten seconds, hoping the voice that sounded so much like Nana’s had not really been her dear, 80-year-old grandmother announcing she was an Elvis-decking criminal behind bars in downtown Las Vegas. The entire phone call had been a delusion. A dream. A catastrophe. What the hell had happened to Ultimate Bingo?

She looked up and met Trent’s worried gaze.

“Sophie, what’s wrong?”

Chapter Six

TRANSPO BY VAMPIRE had been ditched in favor of Patsy and Gabriel’s Cessna Citation X+, a personal luxury jet that happened to be the fastest in the world. Trent insisted on coming with her, and she insisted that no one else go. As werewolves, she and Trent could blend in fairly well with the humans. But even in Vegas vampires and fae would stick out.

As for the plane, Sophie didn’t care that much about the leather seats, flat-screen television, touch screen controls, or ambient lighting. However, she was immensely grateful for the fully stocked bar. By the third vodka, she had loosened her grip on the armrests of her seat and was beginning to believe Nana had played a big joke.

“Elvis is dead,” she announced. “Nana couldn’t have punched him. I mean, him being buried in a grave at Graceland and all.” She blinked. “Wait. Is Elvis dead? Or is he some vampire?”

“I don’t think he’s a vampire.” Trent sat across from her. “Virginia probably smacked an impersonator.” He leaned over and pried the drink out of her hand.

Sophie took it back and glared at him. She took a big swallow and tried to snort her disgust at the situation. Unfortunately, the vodka hadn’t finished its journey down her throat and abruptly changed directions—going up instead. The burning liquid exited her nose in a generous spray—much like a sprinkler watering a lawn—and she attempted to hack up both lungs. And her pancreas, too.

Silence filled the cabin. After all, what did a person say after a moment like this? Oh sorry. Did I get any snot on you?

Heat scorched Sophie’s cheeks. She released her grip on the glass and let Trent take it, humbly accepting his offer of a few tissues. She couldn’t look at him; her nose felt like she’d inhaled a jalepeno. She wished the plane would crack right under her plush seat so that she could plummet to her death. God, she’d been acting like an incoherent idiot. Sophie nodded and concentrated on the wadded-up tissues.

Trent squeezed her knee. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

NINETY MINUTES LATER, the plane landed at McCarran Airport, taxiing to the executive terminal used by several tour companies. Sophie felt nauseous and anxious as Trent helped her off the jet.

“I hope I don’t throw-up,” said Sophie. “That would just suck.”

“You’ll be fine,” soothed Trent. He led her through the small building. As they stepped out the glass front doors, a limousine pulled up.

“Patsy is the bestest queen ever,” said Sophie, as a headache formed. Vodka plus stress plus errant grandmothers made for a doozy of a brain melt.

Trent ushered her into the limo. She sank into the leather seats and sighed. Trent handed her a cold bottled water.

She drank from it. “Thank you.”

She’d been whisked to Vegas so she could rescue her grandmother from jail. How different it would be if she and Trent had gone off for the weekend, arriving by private plane, then taken by limo to a luxurious hotel. She lost herself in the little fantasy, then immediately felt guilty and selfish for wishing she’d been on a lover’s trip with Trent instead of spending her time worrying about her grandmother.

She sipped on her water and stared out the window. Themed-hotels lined Las Vegas Boulevard—from the huge emerald-green MGM to the pink big top of Circus Circus.

Sophie felt like she’d been dropped onto a movie set for giants.

It was nearly midnight when they reached the police station. After several inquiries and wrong turns, they found an information desk.

The matronly woman behind the counter stared at a computer, punching the keyboard with her long, purple nails. “Mr. Howard King dropped the charges,” she finally said. The clerk grinned. “Oh, I remember these two. Fighting and fussing and poor old Elvis in the middle holding his toupee.”

“We need to pay her bail,” said Trent.

“No bail. They were let go. Both got tickets for disorderly conduct, but no jail time. Hey, are you daughter of the bride?”

Sophie blinked. “Bride?”

“Yeah, honey. All that fuss was over a wedding.”

“Who? Where? When?”

“This isn’t the registrar’s office. You’ll have to go courthouse to get that kind of information.”

BACK IN THE limo, Sophie sat in a daze, not even registering the glittering lights of the Strip. “How did I get ‘I’m in jail because I punched Elvis’ confused with ‘I’m getting married to Elvis’? Those phrases don’t sound remotely alike.”

“Try her cell. See if she answers.”

Sophie dialed her grandmother, who picked up on the second ring.

“Hi, Sophie. Sorry for all the fuss. Turns out I didn’t need bail money after all.”

“I heard.”

“Oh. You… uh, went to the jail first, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you can bunk with me. I’m at the MGM Grand.” Nana gave her the room number, and Sophie told Trent where to go.

WHEN THEY GOT to the hotel room, it was nearing two a.m. Nana answered the door. Her nice, gray hair stuck up in several places, and her clothes looked slept in. Sophie gaped at her.

“Close your mouth, or you’ll catch flies. I know I look like hell.” Nana smoothed down her permed nest of hair and straightened her clothes. “Hangover. Just a little one, though. Tequila was much stronger in the old days. Worms were tastier, too.”

Sophie’s are-you-freaking-insane lecture was silenced by the vision of Nana swilling tequila like a vaquero might in the days when the West was still being won. “Where’s Betty Lee?” she managed to ask.

“With Howard.”

“And Howard is...?” asked Sophie.

“Elvis,” responded Nana in a gravelly get-a-clue tone. “And her new husband.”

Relief washed over Sophie. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d become after finding out her grandmother might be married. “So, Betty Lee married Elvis, er, Howard?”

“Yes,” Nana said, waving her hand in a get-up-to-speed gesture. “She’s moved into his place. She works fast. I think she glamoured him with her laser eyes.” She put her forefingers up and wiggled them. “I hope he doesn’t have a heart attack when he finds out she’s a vampire. I tried to talk her out of it. You know how that hundred-year-old bonding thing goes. If he croaks, she’ll be carrying around his ashes for a century.”

Sophie shared a horrified glance with Trent, who held onto her elbow and steered her into the room and to the nearest chair. Trent grabbed the opened bottle of rum sitting on the television. He ripped the paper covers off two glasses and poured the liquid into them. Sophie took the proffered glass and sucked down the contents.

He was not only hot and kind and compassionate, but he was also smart. The rum did its job, warming her from the inside out.

Trent joined Nana to have a hushed conservation. The alcohol dulled her werewolf senses, so she only heard bits and pieces. Or maybe it Nana’s outrageous behavior had caused a brain aneurysm. She concentrated her hearing on their voices and managed to pick up some of what they were saying.

You said blah, blah, blah of her comfort zone.

I didn’t mean you should blah, blah get arrested in Las Vegas.

Well, it worked, didn’t it?

“What are you two talking about?” she called. “Whose comfort zone?”

“Mine.” Nana settled onto the corner of the bed. “Look. All is well, okay? I should’ve known tequila would lead me down the wrong path. Especially after that time I got naked and rode your grandfather through the forest. Oh, he was such a handsome werewolf. Strong, too.” She paused, lost in the fond memory. Then she snapped back to the present and added, “Those campers sure were startled.”

“Nana—”

“Hold that thought. I gotta pee.” Nana disappeared into the bathroom.

“My grandmother is a floozy and a drunk.”

“You should probably add brawler to that list, too.”

Trent poured more rum into her glass. She liked the nice warm feeling in her tummy and sighed. “Grandpa’s probably rolling over in his grave.”

“Henry’s laughing his ass off,” interrupted Nana as she exited the bathroom. She plopped onto the bed once more. “He always said I had a great right hook.”

Trent took the chair opposite of Sophie. “Virginia, why don’t you tell what happened tonight from the beginning?”

“We went to the Ultimate Bingo tournament, just like I said. Turns out it was full of old people. So Betty Lee and I beat feet and went to the blackjack tables.” She waggled her brows. “That’s where the young stud muffins are.”

Nana poured out the rest of the tale, though in a disjointed way with a lot of irrelevant tangents. Seemed like the tequila had pickled her brain.

“So Betty Lee wanted to marry Elvis, and you protested this by smacking him with his toupee?” Sophie rubbed her temples as she tried to understand Nana’s convoluted and strange story. Her only relief stemmed from the fact that at least Nana wasn’t the one who got married.

“No, I smacked him with the preacher’s toupee. It had fallen on the floor after he was knocked unconscious from the flying cherub statue.”

“Wait. You left that part out. You struck a man of God with a stone cherub?”

“Of course not! Elvis’ former fiancée did that. She stormed into the chapel, heaved the thing right off the stand, and threw it at Howard. He ducked...well, you can guess the rest.”

“Then Howard had you thrown in jail for hitting him with some fake hair?” Sophie turned and looked at Trent, who sat next to her. He was having a difficult time maintaining his composure. His cheeks kept puffing out as he held his laughter in check; then he’d choke it all down. Tears trickled out of his eyes.

“Well, he tripped over my foot,” admitted Nana. “It was an accident, but he wailed like a newborn baby when he went down. Came up cussing because he broke a cap. Apparently Elvis impersonators are very picky about having perfect choppers.”

Sophie closed her eyes, took a fortifying breath, and opened her eyes again. “Why did you hit Howard?”

“I already told you that I didn’t know Howard’s perverted friend had pinched my behind. Howard was standing next to me, and the other old coot had high-tailed it to the end of the bench. Mind you, this was in the middle of Howard’s ex-girlfriend’s hissy fit.” Nana sniffed. “It was a little mistake on my part.”

Trent wiped his eyes, sucking in breaths. Sophie reached over and pinched his arm. He pressed his lips together, his face reddening as he attempted to hold himself in check.

“After we got out of jail, the actual wedding was almost anti-climatic. Well, unless you count the fact that Howard dressed in white bell-bottoms and diamond-studded glasses. He sang a nice ditty after the ceremony. Betty Lee did seem happy.”

Nana got to her feet and stretched her arms. “Betty Lee and I got adjoining rooms. Since she’s not using it, I’ll sleep in hers. You two take this one.” She looked at Sophie. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know Howard would drop the charges. He was pretty upset about the tooth.” She smiled and chucked Sophie under the chin. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Good night all.”

Trent and Sophie said their good nights. Once Nana had left, Sophie suddenly realized she was alone in a hotel room that only had one queen-sized bed.

“We’re adults,” said Trent, following her train of thought. “We’ll each take a side and get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

“The longest day ever.” Sophie was so tired, which made it easier to care less about sleeping arrangements. Still, being close to Trent and not touching his yummy body might difficult. Even so, she took the left side of the bed, tucked herself 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.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let go.”

She did, arching, grasping, shuddering. Before she had time to recover, he slid a finger inside her and re-built the fire.

Sophie’s scent wrapped around him.

“I need you.”

Trent grasped her waist and pulled her in for a mind-numbing kiss. She felt her bones melt, leaving her rubbery and unable to stand on her own. She threaded her fingers through his long, soft hair, and poured her heart into the kiss.

He eased himself between her legs, the head of his cock pressing on her hot, wet entrance. “Yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, yes.”

He stroked his length inside her, and she welcomed him by wrapping her legs around his hips. His thrusts matched her eagerness and the pleasure surrounding her centralized, building with each stroke. She gasped, grabbing his shoulders and moving against Trent’s hardness. The pressure built, her pleasure swirling and sparkling.

“Trent!”

When she cried out, her orgasm triggered Trent’s own. He gave a final, hard thrust and came, throbbing inside her, his head dropping to her neck, as he followed her into ecstasy.

Chapter Eight

“NO! NOT NOW,” Meckenzie ranted as the battered CRX coughed, sputtered and died. The car coasted onto the gravel shoulder of the two-lane road, braking to a smoldering stop. In the twilight, and through the belching smoke, Meckenzie read the big, official sign: ROAD ENDS 3 MILES.

“So, this is where it all ends,” Meckenzie muttered. “Good to know.”

She shoved open the door and heaved her tired butt out of the tiny car. She was exhausted. There was nothing and no one nearby. Her stomach growled; a reminder that her last meal had been a granola bar and tepid bottled water. Ten hours ago. She’d kill for a decent breakfast.

Voluminous gray clouds rippled across the purple sky, threatening one helluva storm. A crisp breeze brought with it a reminder that winter could show up at any time.

She blew out a breath and leaned against the car staring at an endless field. Not a tree or cow in sight. The Sooner State sure seemed filled with a whole lot of nothing.

“May I help you, mademoiselle?”

The French-accented male voice startled her. Meckenzie took a moment to gather her composure. She hadn’t expected a welcoming committee so soon. She hoped it was a Broken Heart citizen. After all, someone out to do her harm wouldn’t necessarily waltz up and announce himself.

Warily, Meckenzie squared her jaw and turned. She scowled at a very tall, very buff, very gorgeous man with moonlight hair and unnaturally gold eyes. He was pale—like a vampire would be. He wore a jeweled blue dress shirt tucked into black pants. His shoes were also black—Giorgio Brutini dress boots, if Meckenzie wasn’t mistaken. Hmm. No bike and no car. Where had he come from? And how had he snuck up on her?

Vampire?

He was pale—like a vampire would be. But there was that whole breathing thing. Unless he was taking breaths to psych her out, and she doubted that, then he was using his lung capacity.

So werewolf?

Shit. Did it matter?

He stared at her. Meckenzie stared back. She was stubborn, but she was also practical. Her “borrowed” car was kaput. She was starved and weary. He was the only help for miles. And she’d come all this way to get to Broken Heart. She was walking a fine line between two paranormal enemies. She just hoped she didn’t get burned in the crossfire.

Finally, he said, “I’m Ren Marchand.”

“Meckenzie,” she said.

“Meckenzie…?”

“Yeah.” Meckenzie ignored his hint for her last name. “You’re one of the few people I’ve met who pronounce it right.”

“It’s Gaelic,” he said. “Mec instead of Mac, right? It means ‘daughter of a wise leader.’”

“That’s right. My mother had a sense of humor.”

He waited, presumably for her to clarify her last statement, but Meckenzie didn’t. The silence went on as if he had the patience of the ages. Maybe he did. Once again, Meckenzie gauged his muscled build, warrior gaze, and designer clothes. Patient, sure. And predatory. Meckenzie knew the attitude well enough.

“I’d appreciate a lift into town,” Meckenzie said.

“I can arrange a ride for you to Tulsa.” He nodded toward the car. “I will make sure it is repaired and returned to you.”

It wasn’t her car, so it didn’t matter if she got it back. Meckenzie had planned to abandon it. “Look, dude, I’m tired, and I’m hungry. The entire state of Oklahoma is under construction, especially the roads. I bet there’s a Motel 6 nearby, right? And a Denny’s. Every town has a Denny’s.” C’mon, c’mon. I know you’re from Broken Heart. Let me in!

He offered no response. Instead he withdrew a silver phone from a holder clipped to his belt loop, flipped it open, and punched in a number. “It’s Ren.”

He walked away and carried on the conversation out of her earshot.

Well, he could make all the plans he wanted. She’d started down this road, figuratively and literally—and there was no going back. Both her life and her mother’s soul were at stake now.

“Your ride is on the way,” said Ren in a low voice as joined her once again. That flutter of French in his voice was damned sexy. He stepped close to her, his gaze curious, but wary. Wow. He was, to coin the phrase of an annoyingly perky TV chef, yumm-O.

His gaze curved along her low-cut top designed to draw attention to the wearer’s cleavage, which Meckenzie had plenty of thanks to genetics and a push-up bra. Ever hear that saying, “dress for success”? Well, Meckenzie dressed to distress and to distract.

His stare dipped from her Double D’s to the faded jeans Meckenzie wore. His gaze almost seemed to strip her naked as it meandered from her leather belt to her fab ankle boots. Like anything you see, big boy?

Ren’s head snapped up, and for an instant, her heart stopped. Lust beat like a raven’s wing in his gaze, the heat of it so intense Meckenzie nearly turned to ash. Instead of reaching for that divine misery, she cocked a hip and glared at him. “You ever heard of personal space?”

He moved back, his expression far from apologetic, and crossed his arms. “You are not scared of me.”

“No.” Meckenzie poked her chin out.

“Perhaps, Meckenzie,” he whispered in a voice designed to melt steel—or a girl’s insides, “you should be scared.”

“I know what fear is,” Meckenzie told him. “And honey, you ain’t it.”

Ren’s mouth hinted at a smile. Whew. She knew too well the power of pure unadulterated need. Not for a man, but for a cause. This unwanted attraction glittered like fool’s gold, offering so much and delivering so little.

The wind kicked up. She felt a familiar chill in the air. Realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

Fuck.

Really, Ena? Her entire being went cold, and her hair stood on end. Ren sensed the sudden change in atmosphere, too. He straightened, his gaze tracking the surrounding area. She resisted the urge to move closer to him. No matter how badass this guy was, he couldn’t protect her.

She owed a debt to the wrong person.

The chill weaved along her skin turning into ice needles, sharp and gelid. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Panic skittered in her belly. She had to get into Broken Heart. Once there, she had to figure out a way to protect those she was putting into danger.

God, she wished there was a better way.

“What’s wrong?” Ren asked. His hands wrapped around her shoulders. The warmth of his fingers barely penetrated the unrelenting cold. “You’re freezing! Your lips are blue.”

“H-happens every time,” she managed. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. She felt as if every drop of warmth had seeped out of her. Her heart strummed a harsh beat. She hated this. Hated being bound. Hated every second she’d been a witch’s minion. Ena had some serious trust issues if she was sending the shadows to Meckenzie now. “We n-need to go.”

“Il y a quelque chose qui cloche,” he said in a low, worried voice. He looked at me. “What are those things?”

“You see them?” she asked.

He nodded. Huh. She hadn’t expected that. The shadows were meant for her. A warning. They stared at the undulating black shapes a few feet away. Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled Meckenzie close to his broad chest, his muscular arms tightening around her. She knew with a sudden, crazy certainty that Ren would protect her.

Ren didn’t owe her squat, but here he was, putting his safety before hers. Such a terrible kindness he offered—and the burden of it made tears crowd her eyes. Only one other person had made her feel secure. But her mother was dead. And Meckenzie had no one.

The shadows hissed and scuttled backward, but were not sufficiently cowed by Ren’s presence to dissipate. She shuddered and quaked, her skin tinted gray from the cold that always accompanied the evil bastards. Then, the cold fell away like a discarded coat, and with it, the last of her energy. Bitch. Ena had ensured Meckenzie would be too weak to do anything rash. Like, confess.

She sank to her knees, swaying … then crumpled on her side.

“Meckenzie!”

She tried to raise her head, but it ached too fiercely. She moaned, unable to even lift her arms. Her vision grayed. Ren’s face drew close, alarm flaring in his gold eyes.

“Crap,” she uttered.

Then darkness claimed her.

Chapter Nine

THE FRAGRANT SMELL of coffee pulled Sophie out of a restful sleep. It took her a moment to figure out where she was.

Oh, yeah. Las Vegas. Naked in a hotel room with Trent. She blushed to the roots of her hair as she remembered all the really fun and super naughty naked things they’d done in bed together. Trent was a generous, adventurous lover.

Wowzer.

She saw the bathrobe at the end of the bed, and grabbed it, slipping on the soft terrycloth before she got up. The bathroom door was shut, so she assumed Trent was inside. Her stomach fluttered just thinking about him, and she was sure her inner thighs would be sore for a week, supernatural healing aside. She sighed and smiled, wistful, allowing herself this moment of sheer happiness after months of pure hell. Trent made her feel almost like herself, or as close to herself as she could remember.

She wished she could get back all her memories. Something was going on with her, and she was certain now that Damian had sent Trent in to figure it out. But Sophie didn’t want to worry about the Alberich, about the attack, and how it had changed her inside and out. She wanted to live in this moment. While she was here in the city where anything could happen, she just wanted to enjoy being with him, not worrying about the why.

A whiff of pure deliciousness quickly diverted her focus to her stomach. On the table was a breakfast fit for a werewolf. A pile of bacon. Fluffy scrambled eggs. Biscuits. And a whole pot of coffee. She poured herself a cup, put a dollop of creamer in it, and sipped on the hot brew. Man, that was good.

Trent came up behind her, trailing his fingers up her arms. He lifted her hair and kissed the nape of her neck. “Good morning,” he said, his breath tickling her earlobe.

Electric shivers ran through her, and the now familiar yearning awakened within her. Sophie put down the cup and turned in Trent’s arms, resting her hands lightly on his shoulders. “Good morning.”

“Morning. I hope you’re hungry.”

She sat down and he took the across from her.

Sophie smiled to hide her uncertainty. Before, when he’d been in the bathroom, she’d felt clarity about Trent, about the role she’d like him to play in her life. With him right next to her, his hand grazing her knee, she needed more information to process what was happening between them. It might’ve been a little old-fashioned, but she wanted to know: What were his intentions toward her?

Working up courage, she bit into a strip of bacon. The salty, smoky slice had just the right texture. Chewy meat and crispy fat. Perfection.

“I wish I were that bacon right now,” Trent said.

Sophie flushed hotly. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes. Or that she was making a humming noise. “Trent.” She hesitated when his heated gaze met hers. Sophie shook her head to combat his bedroom eyes. “I have to know. What are we doing?”

“Today?” he said as if the implication didn’t go deeper. “Going home with a very grumpy grandma.”

“No. I mean this. And last night.”

He kissed her forehead. “Before we start down that path, and we will go down the path if I have anything to say about it, we need to talk. Us and Virginia.” He took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Sophie, however, didn’t feel reassured. Not at all.

“HMPH. EGGS ARE dry. Bet I could do better with my wok.”

“That wok needs to be destroyed.” Sophie tapped her spoon against the plate. “Eat the bacon.”

“Pork gives me gas.”

“Nana!”

Nana crossed her arms. “You brought it up.”

“I did not—oh, never mind.” Sophie sighed. “What do you think he wants to tell us?”

“Well, if he’d hurry up with his secret phone call, we’d find out already.”

Sophie tried to will away the ache in her gut. Why did she have the terrible feeling whatever Trent told her would change everything, including what was unfolding between them? His cell phone had gone off before he’d even gotten a word out. He’d immediately taken the call into the hallway, apparently far enough away that not even her werewolf hearing could pick up the conversation.

Nana leaned back and crossed her arms. She gave Sophie a once over. “So, I take it you got your bell rung last night?”

“Oh, my God. Nana, I am not talking to you about my sex life.”

“Well, at least you have one now.”

The hotel door opened, and Trent entered, his gaze automatically seeking hers. His expression was a combination of resigned and hopeful. He seemed to be asking for her to understand, to forgive.

“What’s going on?” demanded Nana.

Sophie couldn’t look away from him. “Trent?”

“SHE’S PRETTY,” SAID a woman’s voice tinted with a French accent.

“Yes,” agreed a male voice. Ah, the gorgeous Ren. “She is also trouble.”

The woman laughed. “Maybe you need some trouble, brother.”

Meckenzie debated about pretending she was still asleep. Meh. She wasn’t one to hide. Gee, if she had time for personal growth issues, she might add, “learn to stay put and shut up” on her list of behaviors to modify.

“Hi,” Meckenzie croaked as she opened her eyes.

“Welcome back,” soothed the woman. “I’m Anise.”

Dressed in a white pantsuit, Anise looked like a nymph who’d stolen clothes so she could cavort as a mortal. Pale as moonlight, her skin seem carved from flawless white marble. Her waist-length hair was the color of new lace. Her gold eyes made her appear otherworldly.

Like her twin.

“How are you feeling?” asked Ren.

Meckenzie turned her head to look at him. The sizzling connection between them held firm. Oh, lawd. Lust was a terrible, beautiful thing. “Freaking great,” she muttered. Pain throbbed in her temples, and her mouth felt filled with sand. “May I have some water?”

Anise left, presumably to fulfill her request. She looked around the room. It was tiny, white, and smelled like antiseptic. She’d been tucked into a twin-sized hospital bed; the metal railing had been left down.

“It’s a mobile medical facility,” said Ren. “It was closer than the hospital.”

“Oh.”

Anise returned with a plastic cup filled with water. The woman’s gaze skated over Ren, and she turned a knowing glance to Meckenzie.

Oh, no, sister, Meckenzie thought. She was not in the market for a man. But sex … well, now that was something else altogether.

She slowly sat up and took the cup Anise offered. “Thank you.” She gulped down half the liquid. “Did someone run me over with a wheat thresher?”

“You don’t look worse for wear,” Anise said, smiling. “But I’m sure you feel like shit.” Her gaze filled with concern. “Why were the shadows after you?”

“You saw them, too?”

She nodded.

Once again, Meckenzie considered lying. What was the point? She planned to fulfill her bargain with the witch, but there was no way in hell she would let Ena the Evil and her goons destroy a whole town. She put the cup onto the little metal table next to the bed. “I owe a very powerful witch named Ena.”

Ren and Anise shared a look, and then both pinned their gazes on her.

“What did you do?” asked Ren.

“It’s more like what she did. And what she plans to do. But it’s your lucky day. Ena doesn’t know it yet, but I have something that will trump her ace.”

“Trump her ace?” Ren frowned.

“If she’s such a powerful witch,” said Anise, “then why can’t she…” She trailed off and blinked at Meckenzie. “You know about witches? Real witches?”

“My mother was a friend to parakind,” she said. “So, yeah, I know all about you guys.” She paused. “Except you two are weird. Vampires? Werewolves?”

“Loup de sang,” said Anise.

“Blood wolf,” Ren translated.

“Wow. That’s … er, new.” It wasn’t like she kept track of the supernatural. She was usually too busy watching out for her ass. And look what being a selfish jerkface had gotten her.

On the up side, she felt somewhat better. The pain in her head had receded, and her body didn’t feel clammy. She hesitated to reveal more information. Oh, hell. The jig was up. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t know where she was, or that she’d had every intention of getting here. “You have bigger issues than little ole me.”

Anise smiled carefully, and, if Meckenzie wasn’t mistaken, her gaze turned suspicious. “It’s not a coincidence you ended up near our borders?”

If Mom taught her anything, it was to be open to the good and look out for the bad. Thus far, she’d sucked at following that wise advice. Darkness lurks in the brightest of places, Meckenzie. She had to trust someone. She doubted the paranormals here were one-tenth the asshole that Ena was. Finally, she said, “I need to talk to Brigid.”

“Your mother is a friend to the goddess?” asked Anise in a voice filled with awe.

“Uh, yeah. Mom said Brigid owed her a solid, and if I ever needed it, I could call in her marker.”

“Your mother will not collect her debt?” Ren’s gold gaze went as cold as an Oklahoma ice storm.

“She died more than a year ago,” Meckenzie said. “Brigid’s favor belongs to me now.”

Ren’s lips tightened into a thin line. Well, so much for the possibility of doing the mattress mambo. French guy had the kind of morals Meckenzie found irksome. His gaze locked on hers, and she felt her stomach dip. Why’d he have to be so gorgeous? It’d be easier to ignore all the judgment in his tone if he was an ugly troll. He raked her with a look she couldn’t quite figure out then he nodded to Anise and … left.

Pffffffft to you, too, buddy. She turned her stare to the enigmatic werewolf’s sister.

“He’s a fun guy,” Meckenzie said, her ego unaccountably wounded by his dismissal. She swung her feet off the bed, stood, and wobbled. Anise grabbed her shoulder and steadied her. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Meckenzie, there’s more, isn’t there?”

Meckenzie met Anise’s glare and sighed. What was the point of keeping all her secrets? “Yeah. A lot more. Please tell me Brigid is within yelling distance.”

“I do not know where the goddess is.”

Ren re-entered the room, and his expression was thunderous. Anise took one look at his face and then said, “I must go. Good-bye, Meckenzie.”

“Bye.”

Ren said, “Queen Patricia wishes to speak with you.”

“That’s great. ‘Cause I’d like to speak to her, too.” She put a hand on Ren’s arm and felt energy arc between them. He looked at her, and she knew he’d felt it, too. “What is this thing we have?”

“It is nothing.”

“Wow. Figured you for a lot of things, Ren,” she said, shaking her head and tsking. “But never for a liar.”

He went utterly still. Men. You could always hit their egos squarely if you questioned their honor, especially men like him. He looked at her and saw what she wanted him to: a sexpot thief with a bad attitude. He was attracted to her, and it pissed him off.

He moved aside, gesturing for her to walk ahead of him.

The next room was small, set up as an office. It was empty. She saw the exit to the left. Ren’s hand grasped her elbow as she opened the door and jumped over the two extended metal steps.

Ren stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Um, what are you doing?”

“Taking you to see the Queen.”

Meckenzie fit snugly against him. God, he was muscular. To feel his strength envelop her, protect her—she wanted to crawl inside that feeling and stay there. She had known love, but never safety. And Ren made her feel safe.

“Hold on,” he whispered, his lips grazing her earlobe. Her stomach jolted at the light, sexy touch. She grabbed his arms tightly, not sure what to expect, but she was all in.

They shot up into the sky, higher and higher. The air temperature dropped, and cool wind rushed through them, ruffling hair and chilling skin. Flying. We’re flying. Meckenzie clutched Ren’s arms. She had seen—and done—some weird shit in her life. But shooting along the star-strewn sky in the arms of a beautiful devil? Not even she would’ve believed it possible. They slowed to stop, hovering several hundred feet above the ground. Meckenzie’s heart climbed into her throat and pounded there, a throb of fear and wonder.

“You will not fall,” he said. “I will not let you go.”

“Okay.” She swallowed the knot in her throat. “Why can you fly?”

“I am part sidhe.”

A fairy? She almost laughed. That would explain the Marchands’ ethereal beauty. When Meckenzie was a little girl, her mother had introduced her to a fairy—a beautiful woman with fiery red hair and forest-green eyes.

Her name was Brigid.

Below them stretched the small town of Broken Heart, Oklahoma. Nestled in a little valley surrounded by rolling green hills and pockets of dense forest, it was just a square of big and small buildings crisscrossed by streets. Other neighborhoods, with small houses and tiny lawns, dotted the outside of Broken Heart.

“We gonna stay up here all day?” She crooked her neck to look up at him.

His gaze glittered, and the left corner of his mouth quirked, but he said nothing.

She couldn’t get a bead on this guy.

“Broken Heart seems nice from this view,” she said. “I’ve never lived anywhere for long. You start liking a place and crap starts piling up. Too much to carry around.”

“What I need to carry,” he murmured, “I carry in my heart.”

Meckenzie wanted to tell him that those silly lines only worked in romantic comedies starring Sandra Bullock, but his sincerity could not be denied. And his words sounded so much like what her mother might say that she accepted them as truth.

He tilted his head in a manner that suggested he was listening to something in the distance. Ah. Vampire telepathy. She watched moonbeams dapple his handsome face. The lunar light shimmered in his gold eyes, and she felt her heart leap at their beauty. At his beauty.

He grimaced. “We must hurry.”

This time, guilt fluttered on razor wings, cutting at her.

Ren’s arms tightened around her—a warning or a comfort, she didn’t know. His gaze drifted over her face. “You are safe, Meckenzie.”

The hell I am.

And if Ena the Evil had her way, no one would be safe again.

VIRGINIA AND SOPHIE’S rapt attention made Trent uncomfortable. He’d eaten some toast, but the buttered bread sat like a lead weight in his stomach. He tugged on the collar of his T-shirt. Jeez. Why did it feel so tight all of a sudden? That’s when he realized his fingers were trembling. He flattened his palms against his thighs and cleared his throat.

Sophie had poured herself another cup of coffee, and Virginia was on her third piece of bacon. He blew out a breath. Okay. Here goes nothing.

“How much do you know about the Alberich?” he asked.

“They attacked werewolves a hundred years or so ago. They were defeated, and no one has seen them since,” offered Virginia.

“Until I found one,” added Sophie. “Or rather it found me.”

He nodded. “The Alberich were creations of Tyr—the Norse god of war. There was a wolf, a wolf like no other—and certainly not like us—who’d been prophesied to kill Odin. So, Tyr and others sought to bind this wolf. His name was Fenrisúlfr. The problem was that they couldn’t catch him. So Tyr took elf magic and created the Alberich—nearly unstoppable beasts that would track Fenrisúlfr.”

“The Alberich are elves?” Sophie looked skeptical.

“They were made with elf magic, but they are creatures right from Tyr’s imagination. Once they caught Fenrisúlfr, Tyr returned the Alberich to the earth. They were made with clay, you see, and should’ve dissolved entirely.”

“Why’d they pop up a hundred years ago?” asked Virginia.

“We don’t know why they rose again. Or even how they were released from was what supposed to be an eternal slumber. What we do know is that they were vicious, relentless, and harbored a deep hatred for all wolves. A dozen Alberich were able to ravage werewolf populations throughout Europe. They killed humans and other paranormals without mercy. They have no conscience and no concept of collateral damage.

“We researched every ancient text we could get our hands on, and eventually discovered a spell that could defeat the Alberich.” He paused. “The ability to destroy an Alberich could be given to one person, but the toll of such a power would consume and potentially kill the one named destroyer. That’s why there was a second part of the spell. Another person needed to accept the gift of healing. The healer absorbed the pain and suffering of the destroyer so that he or she could kill the Alberich.”

Trent saw Sophie make the connection, and the shocked look on her face opened a pit in his stomach.

“You’re the healer,” she said.

“Yes,” said Trent. “And you’re the destroyer.”

Chapter Ten

VIRGINIA AND SOPHIE’S rapt attention made Trent uncomfortable. He’d eaten some toast, but the buttered bread sat like a lead weight in his stomach. He tugged on the collar of his T-shirt. Jeez. Why did it feel so tight all of a sudden? That’s when he realized his fingers were trembling. He flattened his palms against his thighs and cleared his throat.

Sophie had poured herself another cup of coffee, and Virginia was on her third piece of bacon. He blew out a breath. Okay. Here goes nothing.

“How much do you know about the Alberich?” he asked.

“They attacked werewolves a hundred years or so ago. They were defeated, and no one has seen them since,” offered Virginia.

“Until I found one,” added Sophie. “Or rather it found me.”

He nodded. “The Alberich were creations of Tyr—the Norse god of war. There was a wolf, a wolf like no other—and certainly not like us—who’d been prophesied to kill Odin. So, Tyr and others sought to bind this wolf. His name was Fenrisúlfr. The problem was that they couldn’t catch him. So Tyr took elf magic and created the Alberich—nearly unstoppable beasts that would track Fenrisúlfr.”

“The Alberich are elves?” Sophie looked skeptical.

“They were made with elf magic, but they are creatures right from Tyr’s imagination. Once they caught Fenrisúlfr, Tyr returned the Alberich to the earth. They were made with clay, you see, and should’ve dissolved entirely.”

“Why’d they pop up a hundred years ago?” asked Virginia.

“We don’t know why they rose again. Or even how they were released from was what supposed to be an eternal slumber. What we do know is that they were vicious, relentless, and harbored a deep hatred for all wolves. A dozen Alberich were able to ravage werewolf populations throughout Europe. They killed humans and other paranormals without mercy. They have no conscience and no concept of collateral damage.

“Damian and his brothers researched every ancient text they could get their hands on, and eventually discovered a spell that could defeat the Alberich.” He paused. “The ability to destroy an Alberich could be given to one person, but the toll of such a power would consume and potentially kill the one named destroyer. That’s why there was a second part of the spell. Another person needed to accept the gift of healing. The healer absorbed the pain and suffering of the destroyer so that he or she could kill the Alberich.”

Trent saw Sophie make the connection, and the look on her face opened a pit in his stomach.

“You’re the healer,” she said.

“Yes,” said Trent. “And you’re the destroyer.”

“THANKS,” SAID MECKENZIE as she accepted the coffee from Queen Patricia Marchand. Its delicious taste settled her and made her feel human again. The queen leaned back on the couch they shared and looked at her. She was still assessing Meckenzie.

Am I worthy? Am I not? Questions she fought with daily.

They sat in a plush living room filled with warm colors—gold, bronze, dark green, the occasional splash of red. The bottom half of the walls were paneled with burnished cherry wood while the upper portions were painted dark yellow. The fireplace was cherry wood, blending into the paneled portions of the wall. It wasn’t in use, even though it was October. She supposed vampires didn’t get chilly.

“This is a gorgeous room,” Meckenzie said. “Those paintings … Monet?”

Patsy glanced at the paintings on either side of the fireplace. “Hell, if I know. Some hoity-toity interior designer came in and decorated the hell out of this place. Except for the rooms upstairs. Those were mine.” She grinned, flashing her fangs. “He said my taste in furniture was vulgar, my color schemes unrefined, and my lack of vision interfered with the flow he was trying to create for the house.”

“Where did you bury the body?”

The queen chuckled.

“Meckenzie,” said a familiar French-tinted voice. “We retrieved your car. It’s outside.” She put the cup on the table in front of her then stood up and turned. The person talking to her was not Ren though he looked nearly the same. “Is there a cloning plant around here?”

The man’s eyebrows shot up. “We are triplets. I am Gabriel Marchand. You’ve met my brother, Ren, and my sister, Anise.”

Ren had airlifted her to the front door of this house, newly constructed by the look and smell of it, and then took off—by bursting into a bunch of gold sparkles. Because apparently in Broken Heart that was normal. She’d taken the opportunity to remove the tiny vial filled with a single fairy wish from her jacket pocket, dumped out the contents, and said the words she knew she’d regret forever.

Gabriel rounded the couch and sat next to his wife. So, he was the lucky consort of the queen of lycans and vampires. He looked a lot like Ren, but there were subtle differences. She decided being bunched up together on the sofa with two powerful paranormal beings was a bad idea. So, she picked up her coffee and grabbed a chair to the left of the table. She sat down, pretending a casualness she sure as hell didn’t feel and sipped the coffee.

“Why do you need to see Brigid?” asked the queen.

“I didn’t realize you were her secretary.”

Her brows rose to her hairline. “I could pluck the answer from your mind,” said Patsy. “Or glamor you and make you tell me.”

“Sounds fun. Go ahead and try.”

She stared for a long moment then she laughed. “You’ve got some big ole lady balls, I’ll give you that.”

What had she been thinking, going straight into a nest of vampires and other parakind? She’d had no choice. Thanks, Ena, you evil bitch. Maybe if Brigid could help her, she could reverse what she’d done to fulfill her part of the bargain. Fix it somehow. She sipped and sipped because she didn’t want to talk. No, she didn’t want to lie.

Memories flashed. In the forest. The camper parked at a jaunty angle. Sitting on a worn log. Staring at the fire in the pit, enjoying the last of their dinner, laughing at old jokes. Shadows surrounding them…

“Run, baby! Run!” Her mother’s voice. Screaming. She took off. She was fast. Had always been fast. They broke off, chasing her, screeching. Then they dissipated, like smoke … then reformed to wiggle away into the forest. She circled around, returning to the campsite.

She would save her.

She would save her mother.

They danced, their warbling metallic cries tearing at her like claws. In the middle of their wavering shapes, she saw Mom. Collapsed next to the dying fire like a tossed rag doll, her throat had been ravaged. Her glassy eyes stared at nothing, her mouth open in a final silent scream … and her blood, bright as spilled rubies, flowing, flowing…

“Meckenzie?”

The French-tinted voice snapped to her mind into the present. She was breathing hard, tears gathering, and heart racing. Ren stood next to her chair staring down at her. Hmm. Was that concern lurking in his golden gaze? She couldn’t deal with more guilt, more regrets. She put her empty mug on the coffee table—on a coaster, of course. She wasn’t a complete heathen.“When did you get here?”

“Just now,” he muttered. He glanced at his brother and sister-in-law. “We think someone has infiltrated our borders.”

Mackenzie didn’t break eye contact. As vampires, they no doubt heard her increased heart rate and her slight intake of breath. Adrenaline started pumping, and she felt her hands curl into fists.

His expression went cold. “You let them in.”

She kept her gaze on Ren, but wouldn’t, couldn’t, answer.

His jaw clenched. “You do not deny that you allowed someone else into Broken Heart. This Ena perhaps?”

I didn’t have a choice. But she couldn’t say the words. Excuses, lies, justifications. Her gut clenched. She hadn’t much cared about the way she lived after her mom died. She’d been in survival mode. She wasn’t interested in forming relationships. Caring about people meant risking loss, and she was too much a coward to put her emotions on the line.

“Ena is the witch?” asked Patsy.

“I call her Ena the Evil. She pretty much sucks.”

Ren looked like he was trying to stare holes through her. “How did you do it?”

Meckenzie reached into her pocket, drew out the vial, and put it on the coffee table. “A fairy wish.” She licked her lips. “If it makes you feel better I only let one Alberich in.”

The silence fell like an ax.

“And did you intend to hand over Brigid, too?” The queen’s eyes flashed red.

“No. It’s why I need her. She can stop Ena.” Tears of frustration welled. “I’m trapped, damn it. If you would just tell me where she is we can end this whole thing and I’ll get out of your fur.”

“She’s not here. She’s a goddess and pretty much does whatever she wants. But I know someone who can get in touch with her, and I’ll contact him,” offered Patsy.

Meckenzie felt the tension emanating from Ren as well as from Patsy and Gabriel. She could almost taste their fury. It surrounded her, pummeled her. She deserved everything they’d throw at her. She had willingly placed herself at the town’s border. Maybe she could’ve walked away, or changed her mind but Ena had sent the shadows and made sure she’d followed through.

“I can’t have you wandering around Broken Heart causing a ruckus,” said Patsy.

The blood drained from my face. “Are you going to kill me?”

“It’s an option. Right now you’re getting locked up in our paranormal prison until we handle the situation with your bitchy witch and that werewolf-killing machine you let in. Then we’ll deal with you.”

She snagged Ren’s gaze. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and his gaze flashed with ire. He nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed. “I’ll take her.”

Meckenzie stood, resigned to her fate, and Ren clamped a hand on her shoulder. As they exited the house, she heard Queen Patsy say, “We need to get Sophie and Trent back here STAT. Call everyone. It’s all hands on deck.”

The chilled air hit them like a fist, and she sucked in a shocked breath. She’d forgotten how cold it was outside.

“Meckenzie. Betrayer!” screeched a familiar woman’s voice. She barely had time to register Ena’s pissed-off visage before the knife entered her left shoulder. The tiny blade lodged just below her collarbone. She wrenched it out. Pain whipped through her, but she gritted her teeth against the stinging waves.

“Ena,” she said, tossing the knife into the air and catching it by the handle. “You’re early.”

Ena’s black gaze burned with unholy light. She touched the tiny silver daggers lining the belt around her hips and smiled. Wow. Can you say evil bitch? She’d planned to kill Meckenzie all along.

Figured.

“You think I can’t destroy all of Broken Heart with just one Alberich?”

Nope. Hah. “Fuck you.”

Ena threw a second knife, and Ren jerked Meckenzie out of the way and leapt in front of her. Ena’s second blade clattered to the porch.

Meckenzie pressed her hand against the wound, hissing as acidic pain jolted through her. Terrific. Those daggers were poisoned. She dropped the blade and wondered how long the poison would take. Knowing Ena, it would be a long and painful death.

“What the holy fuck!” yelled Patsy as she marched outside, shoving Meckenzie and Ren out of the way. She lifted her hands and ropes of gold magic unleashed.

The ropes looped around Ena, but the witch only laughed.

“You’re dead, Meckenzie Braith. Dead!”

She easily shoved off the vampire queen’s magic, and then, in a puff of acrid smoke, Ena the Evil disappeared.

Chapter Eleven

SOPHIE STRUGGLED WITH the bombshell Trent had dropped. “How is that possible?” she asked. “What happened to the other destroyer?”

“My wife and I volunteered to be the weapon. We vanquished the Alberich, but it took a toll on us both. I survived, but Laura did not.”

He’d been married? To the first destroyer? She pressed her hand against her stomach sure she was going to vomit. The feeling roiling in her gut felt too much like betrayal.

“You used me.”

“No.” Trent reached for her hand, but she pulled away. “I care about you, Sophie. What we’re building between us is real, I swear it.”

She shook her head, tears forming.

“This wasn’t part of the deal,” said Virginia.

Sophie turned toward her grandmother. “You knew?”

“I knew he survived the Alberich, and that he could help you.” Nana glared at Trent. “You should've told me Sophie was some kind of weapon. I’m gonna read Queen Patsy the riot act!”

“We weren’t sure,” said Trent. “We knew that when Laura died, her power would pass on to someone else. Once the spell is enacted, it always finds hosts. Not that it mattered. We always believed the Alberich had been defeated. But one found you, Sophie. And you vanquished him.”

“And almost died,” yelled Nana. “Did you forget that part?”

“This doesn’t make sense. How did a power find me a hundred years after your wife passed away?”

“I don’t know. I believe the power found you because the Alberich have returned. Maybe because you were the first of our kind to be attacked by one since we drove them off so long ago. It’s just a theory, but even if it’s wrong, it doesn’t change anything. You are the destroyer.”

“So, just dumb, bad luck? Bullshit. Someone did this to me, and I want it undone.”

“It doesn’t work like that, sweetheart.” Trent stood up. “We need you, Sophie. I need you.”

“Sooner rather than later.” The new voice sounded a lot like Patsy.

Sophie looked over her shoulder. Patsy and Gabriel stood in their hotel room. Well, why not? How had this day started out to be the best in a very long time and then turned into the worst?

“We don’t have much time,” added Gabriel. “There is already an Alberich in town. And four others prowling our borders.”

“I don’t know how to be the destroyer,” said Sophie. She hated that she sounded whiny. She didn’t want to be that person. She wanted to be strong and brave, but her previous encounter with the Alberich had scared the crap out of her.

“I’ll help you,” said Trent. “We’ll do it together.”

Somehow, the idea of facing the problem with Trent eased her rising panic. Get on your big girl panties, Soph.

She nodded. “Okay.”

She would do this for her friends and the town. But once the Alberich had been defeated, she and Trent had a lot to discuss. If she decided she was still talking to him.

REN HELD MECKENZIE’S upper arm and guided—and by guided, she meant hauled—her down a narrow hallway. He’d had the audacity to handcuff her, and even though twelve ways to get out of the cuffs had already occurred to her, she hadn’t tried. With his werewolf strength and vampire agility, Ren could totally whoop her ass.

They stopped in front of a transparent plastic door. When he opened it, she noted the floor-to-ceiling white interior and the single, narrow bed. On the back wall, there was a closed door that she hoped led to a bathroom.

“Way to hold a grudge, dude,” she said, laying on the sarcasm. Deep down, her feelings were hurt. The fact Ren had no reason to trust her (you know, that whole lying and conniving she’d been doing) was not the point.

But Ren was obviously not a leap-of-faith kind of guy.

He waited, pinning her with his gaze, and she felt her lungs slowly deflate. His nostrils flared. His lips curled with just enough snarl to remind her that somewhere inside him lurked a wolf.

“I can tell you why I did it,” she said.

“I am not sure that matters.”

“The why always matters,” she said, offering another wisdom gem dropped by Mom. Mary Braith had been smart and kind and deserved a better daughter. She tried to be that but kept failing. Yep. She was pretty damned good at failure.

“Go ahead. Tell me why.” Ren’s voice was tainted with anger.

She flinched inwardly but held steady. “Ena has my mother’s soul. She promised to release it if I got her into Broken Heart.” She’d skip the part where she’d also bargained for her life. Seemed like Ena’s poison was going to take care of that, anyway.

Ren’s gaze widened in surprise, and she heard him mutter something in French under his breath.

All she had left was the truth and the very tiny sliver of hope that Ren might help her honor her mother’s memory. “A year ago, those fucking shadows killed my mom. They took her soul and gave it to Ena. That’s when I became her bitch.” She swallowed the knot in her throat. “My mother was a good person. She deserves to move forward into the next life, or wherever good people go.”

“I am sorry about your mother,” he said.

“Please, Ren. If something happens to me, will you make sure Ena releases my mom’s soul?” Her stomach had started cramping right after he cuffed her hands, and she thought maybe it was a combination of nerves, and the annoying propensity to give a damn about what Ren thought. Or, you know, it could be the poison coursing through her bloodstream.

She turned around and wiggled her fingers at him. “You wanna remove the jewelry?”

He removed the cuffs, and Meckenzie walked into the cell because she was the biggest fucking moron on the planet, and Ren shut the door. She heard an ominous snick. She slowly turned and found him watching her.

Pain stabbed her like a thousand hot knives. She doubled over, gasping, clutching her stomach.

The agony drove her to her knees, and sweat beaded her skin, the moisture dribbling down her temples. Her lungs constricted; she didn’t have the ability to scream, and she wanted to. Boy, did she want to.

“Meckenzie? Is this a trick?”

She shook her head, and it felt like she had a skull full of razors rattling around in there. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe.

Ena’s goddamned throwing knife. Knowing that bitch, whatever had coated the blade was freaking nasty.

Shit, she was dying.

She opened her eyes. Her vision was fuzzy, gray. She rolled onto her side, but the new position offered no relief. She curled into a ball as sweat poured off her and fear raked icy claws down her spine.

She didn’t think this was how she’d go.

Her vision started narrowing, dimming.

She vaguely heard the door opening and Ren’s footsteps as he hurried toward her. He crouched down and grabbed her shoulder. “Meckenzie?”

“My mom’s soul,” she said. “Don’t forget.”

Then she fell into the soft quiet of dark oblivion.

Chapter Twelve

SOPHIE AND TRENT returned to Broken Heart via Patsy and Gabriel. Nana had been transported to Betty Lee and Howard’s home in Las Vegas before the older woman even had a chance to protest. At least Nana would be safe.

They arrived at Patsy’s house, and it became immediately apparent that the main living room had been designated the war room. Vampires, werewolves, were-cats, and several fae were studying maps, scrolling on tablets, and talking in hushed, concerned voices. Sophie felt her stomach clench.

I can do this.

“What the update?” asked Patsy.

“The Alberich’s big, fat face broke my sword!” Jessica, a curvy brunette wearing black clothing and a pissed-off expression, lifted one of her famous Ruadan swords. The tip had been snapped off. “Brigid made these. How can a weapon forged by a goddess break?”

Sophie ogled the unbreakable broken weapon. Maybe I can’t do this.

“We can fix it, love,” soothed her husband, Patrick. The 4,000-year-old vampire and the son of the first vampire drew his wife into his embrace and kissed the top of her head. Jessica was immediately comforted and lost some of her anger.

Oh, how Sophie longed for that kind of relationship. But it required a deep level of trust. She glanced at Trent and found him watching her, his gaze wary. Right now, trust was rarer than a fairy wish—which is apparently how the Alberich and the witch Ena had managed to enter Broken Heart. It was starting to feel like upside-down and inside-out day.

She broke eye contact with Trent and moved further into the room.

“The kids?” asked Patsy.

“Elizabeth and Tez escorted them t’ the underground safe house. It’s sealed up tight. They’re safe as can be,” said Patrick.

“Good.” Patsy’s eyes flashed red. “Let’s get to work.”

Sophie listened as several people told how the Alberich had been pushed back from destroying downtown by vampires, werewolves, were-cats, and Sidhe. This had been a remarkable feat if only because the Alberich was resistant to most magic and hard to wound, much less kill. However, Ena was vulnerable to magic and weapons and had abandoned the Alberich almost immediately.

“We got him down to the graveyard, I don’t know how long we can hold him off,” said Jessica. She stared forlornly at her broken sword. “If I get ahold of the bitch-witch, I’m going to shove my sword right up her--”

Patrick wrapped his arms around his wife. “I’ll hold her over the side of a barrel so you can get a proper angle.”

“Thank you, dear,” Jessica said, mollified. She tilted her head to the side to accept his cheek kiss.

They knew each other so well. Patrick seemed to get Jessica, and watching them together made Sophie yearn even more for a love that strong. Could she have that with Trent? If he hadn’t hidden the truth from her, maybe. She stared at him from across the room. He stared back. Had he lied to her? Or just withheld? In this case, was there a difference? The big question Sophie had to ask herself was: If they survived the Alberich, would she be able to forgive him?

“Speaking of the bitch-witch, do you we have a line on Ena, yet?” asked Patsy.

Sophie was glad for the interruption of her dark thoughts. Broken Heart was a parakind town protected by a shield that kept the outside world out, so why didn’t they have better security inside the borders? “How in the heck is this witch moving around our town so easily?”

Patsy’s sister-in-law, Anise, stepped forward, her long moon-white hair twisted into a braid. She wore the dark, well-cut clothes of a warrior, and carried both guns and knives on a belt around her waist. “We don’t know. She is magic as well, which gives her some protection once she’s inside the town’s limits. It makes her very difficile to locate. But…we have another problem. This Meckenzie, she has taken ill. Lenette says she’s been poisoned.”

Lenette was one of three sister witches who ran the local bed and breakfast. Sophie adored Lenette’s chocolate croissants. “Who’s Meckenzie?” asked Sophie.

“The one who got us into this mess,” said Patsy. “Sophie, Trent, you’re up. We have to destroy the Alberich inside the town. Then we have to figure out what to do about the four crawling around outside the force field. Lord-a-mercy.”

“That easy?” Sophie said with a little more anger than she’d intended. Everyone in the room snapped their gazes to her as if she’d grown a third nostril.

“What?” Patsy asked impatiently.

“I mean, I don’t know how to kill this monster. I was unlucky enough to be attacked, and I barely survived.” She could almost feel the intense pain as she remembered the blade slicing into her flesh. “You all have known about this possibility, the coming attack, and you all knew that I could be the key, but no one in this town thought to inform me.”

Trent immediately went to Sophie and put his arms around her from behind.

She only resisted him for a moment. “It’s not all right with me that you kept me in the dark. Kept this big damn secret from me that affects my life. I could have been more prepared if you all had just told me from the get-go.”

She’d already been told that Damian and Kelsey had decided it was for her wellbeing to keep the truth from her. Better for her to recover the memories herself before she learned about her new ability as a destroyer. So, she’d expected Trent to try and placate her with niceties and “greater good” talk.

Instead, he said, “You’re right, Sophie. You should not have been the last to know. We had no right to keep it from you. I should have been honest from the moment I met you. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

No excuses, no deflections, just a straight forward own-your shit sincere apology. Tears welled in Sophie’s eyes as she nodded. She grasped his arms as he tightened them around her. She leaned her head back against his solid chest. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Patsy scrunched her nose as if she were trying to decide what to say. She shook her head then nodded to Sophie, a new understanding between them. “Okay. Alberich managed. Next, Ena.”

“Patsy.” Anise hesitated. She looked as though she were debating with herself. Then she squared her shoulders. “We can use Meckenzie as bait. Draw out Ena and capture her. If the witch’s magic animated the Alberich, it’s possible she can be forced to de-animate the other four.”

“All right,” said Patsy. “Let’s get us some bad guys.”

“I’M GETTING TIRED of passing out,” said Meckenzie. She sounded like she’d swallowed glass shards followed by a fireball chaser. Her head felt stuffed with cotton. Good freaking God, there was a voluptuous redhead three inches from her face, and she was smiling. “Who the hell are you?”

“You’re just as charming as they said,” she replied. “I’m the witch who saved your life. I am Lenette.”

“Oh.” Meckenzie felt a lot less cranky toward her. “Thanks. Where’s tall, blond, and clueless?”

Lenette laughed. “If you’re talking about the guilt-wracked Ren, I sent him in search of a very rare herb I didn’t need. He was driving me crazy with all his pacing and questions.”

“Really?” she perked up. “Worried, was he?”

“Massively.”

“Good.” She slowly sat up, and took the glass of water that Lenette offered. She drained the glass and put it on the nightstand next to the comfy four-poster bed. “Where am I exactly?”

“The Three Sisters Bed and Breakfast Inn. Ren brought you here about an hour ago. I managed to detox the poison and heal with you some magic and herbal remedies.”

“Thank you,” Meckenzie said. “A lot. Being alive is better than the alternative.”

“Well, there's more than one alternative, at least here in Broken Heart,” she said. Sorrow edged her green eyes, and Meckenzie had the oddest feeling that sadness was for her.

She was a little shaken by Lenette’s you’re-so-doomed-Meckenzie vibe. “You want to tell me what’s up?”

Lenette’s smile disappeared. “The Alberich is running rampant, and Ena has disappeared. We’re dealing with the Alberich, but we want you to draw Ena out.”

Meckenzie studied the witch’s face. “You’re being kind. I’m sure Patsy phrased it differently. This isn’t my decision, is it?”

“No.”

“Hoo-kay then. I suppose I owe Broken Heart that much.” She shoved the covers back and got out of bed. She had a woozy moment then the world righted, and she took a couple tentative steps.

“Are you all right?” asked Lenette.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve felt worse, believe me.”

“You’ve dealt with being poisoned before?”

“No, but I’ve done my share of tequila shots.”

Lenette laughed. Then she held out her arm, and even though it made Meckenzie feel like a sissy la-la, she took it. They hadn’t even crossed the room when Ren appeared in the doorway, his expression zipping from worried to furious.

“What are you doing?” He strode inside, shoved a paper bag at Lenette, and then scooped Meckenzie into his arms. “You are not well. You cannot leave the bed until you are fully rested.”

“Um, you’re not the boss of me,” Meckenzie said. “Queen Patsy is. Besides, I screwed up your little haven. It’s only right I try to help fix it.”

“Ren,” said Lenette, her tone sympathetic. “We don’t have time. You must take her to the location now.”

“Yeah,” Meckenzie said. “And I don’t need to be coddled.” However, she liked the feel of his arms around her, how warm and safe he made her feel. But so what? Even if Meckenzie survived the encounter with Ena, she and Ren were not ever going to be anything to each other. She had never been the get-married-have-kids-live-normal-lives type. Having your only family murdered, your mom’s soul trapped by an evil witch, and getting yourself turned into said witch’s minion made those kinds of dreams impossible.

Though, she found it disconcerting that she could imagine being with Ren as … well, her forever guy.

“What are you waiting for, vampire boy? If you’re going to set the trap, you need to put the bait in it.”

He nodded, and before she realized what was happening, gold sparkles filled the air. She felt like she was being pulled from the inside out, and then she heard a sucking noise.

Oh, hey, darkness. Again.

SOPHIE AND TRENT had changed clothes. In the black cargo pants, T-shirt, and boots, she looked the part of a warrior.

But she still didn’t feel like one.

“It’s all right,” said Trent, grasping her shoulder. The warm pressure of his hand calmed her jitters, and she offered him a smile of thanks.

Now, they were hunkered down behind a stone crypt watching as super-powerful beings threw rocks and sticks and designer shoes at a seven-foot-tall green, warty giant who stomped around like a toddler in a temper tantrum. Their combined efforts to keep him distracted were working for the moment, but Sophie knew her and Trent needed to go in there and stop the Alberich once and for all. But all she could think was: We’re all going to die.

Trent’s hand found hers. They twined fingers, and Sophie felt the anxiety and fear melt from her.

“We’re okay,” he said.

Sophie took a deep breath to settle her mind. She looked at him, taking in the now golden brown of his irises as he hovered on the edge of turning. “I guess you better give me the short version of how to operate our Wonder Twin powers.”

“You just need to get close enough to make contact with the beast. It might take a few times of you hitting him, but keep doing it until he drops. The Alberich will drain your energy, and he’ll probably hurt you. But I’ll be there, Sophie. I’ll take your pain and heal your wounds, so you can bring the big bastard down. Trust me.” He squeezed her hand.

“I do,” Sophie said, surprised that she meant it.

Impulsively, she kissed him, enjoying the mild shock of tension in his mouth right before he wrapped her close to him; his fingers curved around the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss. It ended too soon by Sophie’s estimation, thanks to a small truck being tossed over their heads. Huh. The vampires were getting desperate.

Sophie smiled at Trent, still breathless. “Okay. I’m ready now.”

Chapter Thirteen

JESSICA AND PATRICK headed the charge through the cemetery. Sophie and Trent followed close behind, and behind them another four vampires. Trent’s worry for Sophie tripled as she stumbled. She righted herself and continued, but he saw her expression. She was terrified.

But she wasn’t letting that fear stop her.

The body of the werewolf, however, did.

She nearly tumbled over the large brown wolf. The egregious wounds dripped with blood and thick green pus. Her shocked gaze met Trent’s, and he grabbed her arm and forced her forward. “Keep going.”

He was dismayed to see other bodies and a few piles of ash that had once been vampires. The Alberich was taking its toll.

“We follow Jessica,” said Trent. “When she gets his attention, run through his legs and tag his calf. Do not stay there. If you don’t keep moving, he can step on you or swipe you.

“He has the sword,” she said, her voice shaking.

He wanted to hide her away. He didn’t wish to lose someone he loved, and yes, he loved her, to the Alberich again. But if he and Sophie couldn’t face up to this difficult task, the entire town would perish. He wasn’t sure he could live with either option. The choice had to be hers.

“Do you want to run?” he asked her.

Her lower lip trembled, but she shook her head. “No. No, I don’t.”

“Then have faith in yourself. In us.” Trent took her by the shoulders. “Remember, Sophie, you took down one of these all on your own. You are a goddess.” He kissed her hard and then let her go. “You’ve got this. Run!”

His heart nearly beat out of his chest as he watched Sophie dodge around the paranormals doing their best to fight the grotesque giant. Trent allowed Sophie enough room to maneuver but stayed close enough to get to her when she went down. Even though she’d accidentally defeated the Alberich in the Oregon forest, she didn’t remember much about that attack. He feared the intense pain would flatten her. Touching an Alberich would be like touching lightning.

Pride swelled when Sophie darted between the giant’s legs and slapped the back of his right calf with both hands. That pride turned to horror as she was flung backward, her cry of agony piercing his heart.

The Alberich roared and went down to one knee. The paranormals closed in throwing, literally, everything they had at the Alberich.

It seemed like it took an eternity to get to Sophie. Trent helped her to her feet, but she immediately turned and vomited. She wiped her mouth with the back of her shirtsleeve. “Sorry.”

“You did great.” God, she looked wan, almost ashen. Terror made him want to grab her and take flight. He didn’t mean to risk her safety. He wanted her alive. He needed her alive.

I love you, Sophie. Why hadn’t he told her earlier? He would take her pain, no matter the cost.

“Here.” He pressed his fingertips against her temples and absorbed every ounce of her suffering. It felt like acid boiled in his veins, but he didn’t let go until he’d given every bit of healing he could to Sophie.

He staggered back, clenching his teeth as his eyes rained gold onto his face, his arms. The squiggles of magic absorbed into his skin, and finally, he was able to take a breath.

“Go,” he said, his gaze meeting Sophie’s. “Let’s finish this.”

MECKENZIE STILL SHOOK from the explosion of her molecules. Goddamn. She did not want to do that shit again. On the upside, she was still in the buff arms of a certain loup de sang. The man smelled good.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“In the basement of a burned-out convenience store. It’s about five miles out of town—far enough away to protect our citizens.”

“So, it’s just you and me?”

“Everyone is needed to keep the Alberich occupied. We will be enough to stop one witch.” He looked at me his gaze filled with regret. “I’m sorry that I thought you were faking the illness.”

“Don't apologize,” she said. “That’s a tactic I would’ve used.”

He allowed one corner of his mouth to curl up. He lay her down gently on the cool stone floor, but before he could move his arms away, she grabbed him and hauled him forward. Surprise was on her side, and he fell on top of Meckenzie with a startled umph.

“What are you doing?” he asked. He made no move to leave. Instead, he adjusted himself so that he wasn’t squishing her so much. “What do you want?”

“You,” she said, cupping his face.

She could see all the doubts he had about her, about what was unfolding between them. She didn’t want to see that distrust and know that she deserved it, and worse.

“Kiss me,” she murmured. “Chances are Ena will kill me, and then you’ll have missed your shot at these lips. So, stop thinking and kiss me, Ren.”

Desire flared in that golden gaze, burning away all those other pesky emotions. He looked at her, just looked, and that sensual appraisal started a trembling in her belly. He leaned down, a teeny tiny bit, and parted his lips. Her heartbeat tripled, and the air in her lungs evaporated.

Then that bitch Ena blew up the damned room.

Ren covered Meckenzie and protected her from the debris of the mangled ceiling. Dust thickened the air, and the sounds of falling boards and bricks echoed in the silence.

“Are you o—” Ren was yanked off her, and thrown against the wall Growling, he jumped to his feet, growling and made a leap for Ena. A rope of black electric magic pushed against his middle like a giant fist and pinned him to the floor. His gaze sought hers, and he yelled, “Meckenzie!” Then his voice was cut off. She watched his neck muscles strain as he fought against the magic. Her heart dove to her toes as panic did the cha-cha up her spine.

She rolled up to her elbows, but before she could even think about getting up and trying to kick some butt, Ena’s face appeared above hers. She shrank down.

Her eyes narrowed with rage. “You’re a pain in the ass, Meckenzie.” She punched Meckenzie hard, and Meckenzie felt blinding pain. “Did you forget our bargain?”

“I fulfilled my end,” she wheezed. She ended her comment with a coughing fit. Inhaling blown-up wall bits was not good for the ole vocal chords. She was still feeling groggy, but she was aware enough to know both she and Ren were sitting ducks.

“I want my revenge!” Ena screamed. “Your mother’s soul hangs in the balance, Meckenzie.” The witch grabbed her by the throat and jerked her upright. Her fingers squeezed hard, her sharp nails digging into Meckenzie’s flesh. “If you fail me again, I will send dear, darling mommy into the world-between-worlds. She will never be free.”

Chills darted down Meckenzie’s back and lodged like arrows in her guts. She was sick of Ena and threats, and she was worried about more than her own ass this time. “Let Ren go, and I’ll let the other Alberich into Broken Heart.”

Ena dropped Meckenzie to the ground, but Meckenzie wasn’t free. Ena easily pinned her to the concrete with her stupid, evil magic. Ena lifted her palm, and Ren was jerked up from the floor. His face was bloodied, and he was so constricted with magic, it looked like he was wearing a black Snuggie. Not even his considerable powers could break the dark sorcery of Ena.

What chance did Meckenzie have now? How would she save Ren and her mother’s soul?

“How will you open the gates to this godforsaken town?” demanded Ena.

Meckenzie tried to hide her fear. Her mom’s soul being on the line, that she was used to, but handling the life of a dude she hadn’t even kissed yet? Holy crap. She swallowed the knot clogging her throat and affected a bored tone. “I know where to turn off the force field,” she lied. “One flick of the switch and Broken Heart is all yours.”

“Take me to the switch.”

“Oh, no. You don’t get what you want until I get what I want first.” All Meckenzie needed to do was to get Ena off balance. If the magic weakened, she could escape long enough to claw out Ena’s black eyes.

It was a helluva risk.

Meckenzie wanted nothing more than to free her mother’s soul. She deserved peace. But she would not be happy if she knew that Meckenzie had sacrificed a living creature to free her. The dead are no longer concerned with earthly matters. Life is for the living, Meckenzie, so live well. Besides, she couldn’t let Ren get hurt. He’d protected from the moment she tricked him into letting her inside Broken Heart. She owed him.

“Well?” Meckenzie pretended to yawn. “You want revenge or not?”

“You’ll take all three of us to the switch. I’ll let him go if what you say proves true.”

“Deal.”

Ena snapped her fingers and freed Meckenzie from the magical bonds. Meckenzie rolled to a sitting position and rubbed the back of her neck. Slowly, she climbed to her feet.

“You’re wasting time,” spat Ena.

“You’re right.” She snap-kicked Ena hard in the crotch, and the witch screeched and bent over. Meckenzie kneed her in the face, and she collapsed onto her side.

Meckenzie only had seconds. She kicked Ena in the stomach, forcing the woman onto her back and then she kneeled on Ena’s chest. Wow, she had no boobs. Maybe giving her an A-cup was somehow karma’s way of matching her tiny, blackened heart. Blood spattered the witch’s creamy white complexion and wheat blonde hair. It was so not fair she didn’t even have any warts or scars. But no, she was all beautiful and shit. Well, until she went all crazy with the snarling and spitting and eye-narrowing—then she was one ugly bitch.

Meckenzie punched her in the face. Ena’s head snapped back, and she yowled. More blood spattered, this time splashing on Meckenzie. Her knuckles throbbed, but she ignored the discomfort and gave Ena an uppercut. The witch’s head smacked hard into the concrete.

Oh! Good idea.

Meckenzie grabbed her hair and banged her skull against the ground.

“Enough!” screamed Ena.

Meckenzie was airborne before she’d realized what had happened. Ena’s cry had gone up two octaves … um, probably because Meckenzie had two handfuls of blonde hair that she’d ripped out as she was thrown. She landed hard on her side and groaned as pain jolted up her spine and down her legs. Ouchfuckingouch!

She scrambled to her feet. Okay, she listed to her feet and wobbled around to face a very, very pissed-off witch.

Her plan hadn’t worked.

Ren was still tightly bound, his gaze on Meckenzie’s. His expression was pure rage. She mouthed, “Hang on.” He shook his head fiercely, but it was too late to back down now.

“Meckenzie!”

She looked at Ena and felt her entire body go ice-cold. Ena had created a soccer-sized ball of black, nasty magic.

And she lobbed it straight at Meckenzie.

THE FIFTH TIME Sophie went for the weakened, but unfortunately, still fighting Alberich, she launched herself at his leg and bit into his gnarly flesh.

Light imploded behind her eyes and it felt like a thousand stars rained down on her. She was tossed backward like a discarded ragdoll. Her head smacked into a tombstone, and she sank to the ground, every inch of her throbbing with pain.

Then Trent was there, gathering her into his arms and he, once again, siphoned away her agony. He shuddered under the onslaught of her pain. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He kissed the top of her head. “You did it, Sophie. Look.”

She felt rejuvenated every time Trent used his gift to heal her. Now, was no different. She lifted her head and stared at the Alberich. His gravel-crunching cries slowly faded as he fell backward. The entire graveyard shook from the massive impact. Then there was a cracking sound.

The Alberich’s body took on a grayish-brown cast, his flesh and clothes cracking as though it was clay drying, and then everything collapsed inward.

He was gone.

Sophie got to her knees, and turned around, wiping the sweat from Trent’s brow. “Are you all right?”

“You’re alive. The rest will sort itself out.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He smiled, but she could see the effort. “I will be.”

All her anger from earlier had vanished before the fight, and looking at him now, her head cleared for the first time in months. Without a shadow of a doubt, Sophie knew Trent was meant for her. She loved him. The realization scared her almost as much as the Alberich. With love, there was so much to lose. As it was, there was too much between them unsaid. “I need…I want…”

“Hey, kids.” Patsy and Gabriel popped next to them, both looking like they’d gotten into a fight with a convoy of Mack trucks. “We still have four Alberich trying to get in. If they get bored, they might decide to eat Oklahoma.”

“What about Ena?”

Gabriel and Patsy shared a look. “We’re still hoping that works.” Patsy offered a grim smile. “I know you’re tired. And I know this sucks. But we really need you.”

“Of course,” said Sophie. She looked at Trent.

He nodded. “We’re in.”

“All aboard the vampire train,” said Patsy holding out her arms. Trent went with the queen and Sophie stepped into Gabriel’s embrace.

Sophie hoped she and Trent were up to the task of taking four more Alberich. She worried that Trent was going to collapse. He’d endured so much suffering for her.

“Ready?” asked Gabriel.

“Yes,” said Sophie. And she hoped she was ready.

ENA APPARENTLY KNEW jack shit about how to throw a ball at a target. Meckenzie dropped to the floor, and the nasty magic exploded against the wall behind and disappeared in a cloud of stinky smoke.

“I think you might need some Rogaine,” said Meckenzie. “Or a wig.”

“You!” Ena gritted her teeth. “I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

The magic around Ren disappeared, which surprised the hell out of Ena. He jumped to his feet, his face half-morphing into a white wolf as a low growl issued from his throat.

Ena reached behind her back and drew out a long, thin curved blade. Where the hell had she hidden that thing?

Ren didn’t stop growling, but edged backward, his gaze on the sword.

“That’s right,” she practically cooed. “Pure silver. I will take your head, blood wolf.” She leaped forward and swung it, but Ren quickly dodged the blade and went low, trying to sweep out her legs. She jumped like some kind of fucking witch ninja, and with her free hand unleashed ropes of black glittering magic that went at Ren like snakes. He pulled back, attempting to move out of reach of the magic and Ena’s sword.

Then the magic grabbed hold of him; tendrils wrapped around his wrists and dragged him forward. Then more grabbed his ankles and his legs. He was forced to his knees—and then his head was stretched back, giving Ena a primo spot to embed her sword.

The. Hell.

Meckenzie ran at her, screaming like a crazy warrior woman. She had no weapons, no plan, and no fucking sense. But she refused to let Ena the Evil hurt Ren. The sword swooped down, but she plowed into Ena like a linebacker taking down the other team’s quarterback. Ena managed to keep hold of the sword, but not her feet.

They landed in a heap, fighting for the blade, but Ena was in full-on fury mode. Meckenzie had a difficult time warding off the blows.

With Ena fighting for her life, she extinguished the magic holding Ren. Meckenzie heard him growling, and then Ena bucked her off and rose to her feet.

Literally.

She floated in the air and zoomed toward the Ren, blade raised.

Meckenzie had never moved so fast in her life. One of the reasons she was a good thief was her flexibility. She put on the moves and ended up standing in front of Ren seconds before the blade swooshed toward that beautiful neck of his.

Ena couldn’t stop the trajectory, but given the look of hatred in her gaze, she wasn’t sorry when the sword slashed across Meckenzie’s ribcage. She twisted the sword and brought it up to her stomach.

It felt like she’d been set on fire. Pain exploded.

“Crap,” she muttered. Meckenzie crumpled to the floor, unable to breathe. She felt her heartbeat in her ears; it was slowing, a soft lullaby before she fell into permanent sleep.

An unearthly howl echoed in the basement. Meckenzie couldn’t feel her body anymore. But she heard the growls and screams, and the thumping and crunching.

Everything was getting gray, and going fuzzy around the edges.

Ren knelt next to her, his expression ravaged, his chest heaving with shuddering breath. Oh, and he was naked and spattered with blood.

“Meckenzie,” he whispered.

She couldn’t get words to form, but she wanted to say that she’d wished they had that kiss, and that she could see him again—with more naked, of course—and that—

Chapter Fourteen

SOPHIE AND TRENT had barely started playing kill-the-monster tag with the four Alberich when the creatures suddenly froze and tumbled to the ground. Like the one they’d defeated at the graveyard, they turned to dried clay and broke into a thousand pieces.

A small crowd of tired Broken Heart citizens came together, triumphant—and really fucking tired.

“Ding, dong, the witch is dead,” said Patsy. “And so are those assholes.” She glanced at Trent and Sophie. “Go home, you two. We’re done here.”

“What about Ren and Meckenzie?” asked Anise.

“Don’t worry,” Gabriel told his sister. “Ren is well.”

Patsy took Sophie and Trent’s hands and brought them together. “Well, you two crazy kids, you did good. Now, we can all get back to an Alberich-free town.”

“Is that all?” Sophie asked. “You’re sure there’s nothing more to do?”

Patsy raised a knowing brow as she looked from Sophie to Trent then back to Sophie. “Love each other, already. That’s a command from the queen.”

Trent turned to Sophie, his dark eyes even darker in the waning late afternoon sunlight. He looked exhausted and thin. Had he lost weight during the battle? She would feed him, and not from Nana’s wok. She would feed him, and comfort him, and love him.

Sophie wrapped her arms around his neck and stretched up to kiss him. “I’m okay with that suggestion.”

He pressed his forehead against hers and smiled. “Works for me,” he said.

“Me, too.”

“You know I love you, right?” He pushed back her hair from face, carefully watching her reaction.

“Yeah, I figured,” she said.

He raised a brow.

She grinned. “You know I love you back, right?”

He kissed her soundly. “I figured.”

Though dusk stretched purple fingers toward the gold and red streaked sky, night sounds had already emerged, the typical Oklahoma symphony of chirping crickets and wind-rustled grass.

Sophie loved when beauty surprised her senses, wrapping around her, singing to her soul. She paused, closed her eyes, and breathed in the moment. Being a herbalist satisfied her desire to help others, and being a wolf satisfied the restlessness that so often claimed her.

And now, in this moment, exhausted beyond measure, embraced by the man she loved, she felt completely at peace.

Epilogue

MECKENZIE LOOKED UP into the thick branches of a strange tree. Its trunk was purple, and its leaves a bright yellow. The sky was a wispy silver and the ground a vivid blue. Had she fallen into a box of crayons? Where the hell was she?

“You were very brave, honey.”

She turned and saw her mother. She couldn’t believe her eyes. “Mom?”

Her mom wrapped her arms around Meckenzie’s neck and nearly squeezed the life outta her. “I never thought I’d hug you again.” Wait. If Meckenzie was really sitting next to her mother then—oh, shit. “I’m dead?”

“Your corporeal form, yes.”

“But you’re free from the shadows and can, um … move on?”

“Ena’s dead, and with her any curse she cast. So, yes. I’m free.”

Meckenzie figured this was the part where Mom said she was going off to heaven and Meckenzie to a much warmer place, but she merely drew her daughter in for another spin-cracking hug. “You will have such a good life,” she whispered. “You will have love, and family, and oh so many wonderful adventures.”

Ren. Oh, how her heart broke. “Dead here, remember?”

She laughed, then pulled back and cupped Meckenzie’s face. “I will watch over you and yours. Always.”

Meckenzie didn’t remember her mother being so dense. She tried again. “You told me that life was for the living.”

“Indeed.” She tweaked Meckenzie’s nose. “So live well.”

Your Lycan or Mine?

Book 14 in The Broken Heart Paranormal Romance Series

When Meckenzie Braith bolted from Broken Heart, and the muscled arms of gorgeous loup de sang Ren Marchand, she promised herself that she’d give up thievery and create a life on the right side of the law.

It was a promise she kept for 8.2 seconds.

To be fair, she was using her skills for righting wrongs. She no longer accepted money for her efforts, and considered stealing for good causes as penance for previous bad life decisions.

Okay, okay. She befriended paranormal orphans who helped her with heists, but she was trying to reform them. Really.

Then Meckenzie and her gang steal from the wrong paranormal (for the right reason, of course) and end up running for their lives.

The only place she knows where she can protect herself and her charges is the paranormal community of Broken Heart, Oklahoma. The problem? She deceived the entire town, including the vampire queen.

But to save the kids who depend on her, Meckenzie will face head-on the people she betrayed—and the blood wolf she left behind.

Learn more!

The Broken Heart Books

The Broken Heart Series

#1 I’m the Vampire, That’s Why

#2 Don’t Talk Back To Your Vampire

#3 Because Your Vampire Said So

#4 Wait Until Your Vampire Gets Home

#5 Over My Dead Body

#6 Come Hell or High Water

#7 Cross My Heart

#8 Must Love Lycans

#9 Only Lycans Need Apply

#10 Broken Heart Tails

#11 Some Lycan Hot

#12 You’ll Understand When You’re Dead

#13 Lycan on the Edge

#14 Your Lycan or Mine?

Broken Heart Holidays

#1 Valentine’s Day Sucks (Valentine’s Day)

#2 Harry Little, Leprechaun (St. Patrick’s Day)

#3 Some Lycan Halloween (Halloween)

#4 Werewolf, Interrupted (Groundhog Day)

About the Author

Michele Bardsley is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of paranormal romance. When she’s not writing sexy tales of otherworldly love, she watches “Supernatural,” consumes chocolate, crochets hats, reads books, and spends time with her husband and their fur babies.

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Copyright

Copyright © 2015 by Michele Bardsley

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement from the author of this work.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatever to anyone bearing the same name or names. All incidents are pure invention.