Broken Heart 10 Some Lycan Hot (2 page)

CHAPTER ONE

“YOUR BROTHER IS going to kill us.”

“Only if he finds out,
Liebling
.” Damian slanted a look at his wife, Kelsey, who sat in the passenger seat of their Lexus peering out the tinted window with a pair of binoculars. Her target—a small shop called The Winter Goddess—was only twenty feet away. With her supernaturally heightened senses, she could see and smell targets from miles away. But she was born and raised human, and humans strove to make up for perceived deficits—even when they didn’t have any. Besides, he thought her putting together a spy kit was cute.

“I spilled the beans less than a week ago,” said Kelsey, her tone heavy with worry and guilt. “And he’s already found her.”

Damian tapped his nose. “Werewolf, honey. We can track anything.”

“Why didn’t he try before?”

“He did.”

“What? When?”

“For years. He believed that she’d died in the village fire and he wanted to find her body. When he didn’t find so much as a broken fingernail, his hope returned. He thought that she had escaped but had been too injured to find us. At one point, he believed she had amnesia.”

“Wow. Do you think she really loved him?”

“Yes.”

“Why did she bail?”

“Only she knows for sure why she left, and why she never returned to him.”

“Her face is scarred,” said Kelsey. “Maybe she believed he would reject her.”

Damian snorted. “Then she did not know my brother at all.”

“Maybe she didn’t know herself at all, either,” she said.

His wife was insightful, which probably had something to do with her training as a psychotherapist, but a lot more to do with her empathic abilities—a gift she’d had as a human.

Werewolves were usually more about action than emotion.

Alaya had been hiding for years with the Order of the Moon Goddess, a secret only revealed after Damian and Kelsey had returned to his home in the Black Forest of Germany. Alaya had made Damian promise to never tell his brother that she lived, and he had given his word.

His wife, on the other hand, had made no such bargain, and had told Darrius the truth.

Darrius left immediately
for Germany, but arrived too late. Alaya had already fled the temple, and her role as high priestess. Perhaps Alaya had gotten complacent enough to believe her former fiancée had given up on trying to find her. She’d hid her presence—and her tracks—very well for the last seventy or so years. But Darrius was more determined than ever—motivated by knowledge that Alaya was alive and well.

Two days ago, Darrius called
and said he’d found Alaya, but as yet, he had not made his presence known. Damian knew his youngest sibling was monitoring her every move, sizing her up, researching her life, before figuring out the opportune moment to confront her.

And that’s how he and his wife had
ended up here, in Broken Arrow, a quaint seaside town in Oregon. They were staking out the small shop owned by Alaya.

Damian now doubted their hasty decision to follow Darrius. His brother was a grown man entitled to handle his private business in the way he saw fit. He didn’t need his oldest sibling hovering over him and clucking like a mother hen.

As usual, Kelsey sensed his thoughts. She tucked the binoculars inside the bag resting on her lap. Then she turned and placed a hand on his arm. “We’re just trying to make sure he’s okay. I mean, it’s gotta be a big shock to learn that your true love wasn’t dead for the last seventy years.”

“Maybe she had her reasons.” The lyrical female voice filtered from behind them.

Kelsey yelped, but Damian instantly recognized his mother’s voice. He looked into the back seat—and yes, there were his mother and father. The god and goddess were stealthy, and tended to appear and disappear suddenly.

“Jeez Louise!” yelled Kelsey.

“Who is Louise?” demanded his father, Tark.

“It’s just a human saying, Dad.”

Tark frowned. “I don’t think this Louise would appreciate people randomly shouting her name. Especially without a proper altar or sacrifice.”

“She’s not a deity,” said Kelsey. “Didn’t we talk about the popping in thing?”

“Oh, right.” His mother, Aufanie, offered a sweetly innocent smile. “I’m sorry.”

Tark had no such regrets. “Well?” he demanded in his gruff voice. “Have they torn each other to bits yet?”

“He hasn’t approached her,” said Damian.

Tark snorted. “What’s he waiting for?”

“His heart is wounded,” said Aufanie. “He probably doesn’t know what to say.”

“What’s to say?” Tark’s eyebrows dipped. “Why does talking have to be involved? He should take his female, throw her over his shoulder, and go to the nearest cave.”

Damian stared at his dad with an open mouth. He wasn’t sure if his father truly believed such barbarian nonsense, or if he was intentionally trying to irritate the two women with his caveman opinions.

“Oh, look,” said Mom. “It’s Patsy and Gabriel.” She pushed the button on the door handle, and the window slid smoothly down. “Yoo-hoo! Over here!”

“Mom, we’re trying to be discreet.”

Aufanie rolled her eyes. “Your brother no doubt knew you were here the moment you set foot in town.”

Patsy, former queen of vampires and werewolves, and her husband, the blood lycan called Gabriel, stopped in front of the Lexus. Then they walked to Damian’s driver side window.

Damian rolled the window down. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing you are,” said Patsy. “Making sure Darrius doesn’t do something stupid.”

“Stupid?”asked Damian. “Like kidnap her and drag her into a cave?”

Patsy lifted a blonde eyebrow. “Why the hell would he do that?”

“Because that’s the way werewolves date,” said Tark from the back seat.

Patsy dipped her head inside the car, forcing Damian to press against the headrest. “Hey, Tark. Aufanie.”

“Darling, maybe we should retire to a less … obvious location,” said Gabriel as he gently pulled his wife out of the car window. “It’s likely we’ll be noticed.”

“Oh, crap,” muttered Kelsey. She rolled down her window, and Damian saw his other brother Drake and new wife, Moira, standing on the other side of the car.

“You, too?” asked Damian.

“I was worried. Seventy years is a long time,” said Drake, leaning down. He glanced over Kelsey’s head. “Hi, Mom. Dad.”

“Hello, sweetheart!” Aufanie smiled and wiggled her fingers in an enthusiastic hello.

“There’s a coffee shop down the street,” said Patsy. “Let’s meet there and discuss what to do about our lycan.”

“Okay,” said Damian. He looked over his shoulder. “Just ride in the car with us, okay? You’ll freak out the humans if you suddenly appear inside the restaurant.”

“Oh, we know,” said his mother. “After that one lady fainted and her husband ran away screaming, we decided not to do it anymore.”

Drake laughed, and Moira elbowed him in the ribs. “Uh. Well. Okay. See you there.”

Everyone outside the car departed, and Damian started the engine of the Lexus.

“Darrius really is going to kill us,” he murmured to Kelsey.

“Oh, yeah,” she whispered. “Big time.”

DARRIUS STARED OUT the window of the gift shop. Across the pretty courtyard with its evergreen trees and glossy wooden benches was The Winter Goddess. From his location, he could see clearly into the store.

Alaya stood behind the counter.

Her face was covered
with a black and gold shawl. He knew about her scars, about how she’d almost lost her life in the fire. After Kelsey told him Alaya was alive, he interrogated her for every detail. He used bribery (babysitting his nephew), extortion (stealing her desserts), and threats (buying his nephew a guitar and the entire album collection of AC/DC). Finally, she relented—and told him everything.

Yearning filled him as he watched Alaya go about daily tasks.

She wasn’t in a coma.

She didn’t have amnesia.

She hadn’t died.

He couldn’t wrap his brain around Alaya being alive—and not trying to find him. He knew she loved him, as much as he loved her.
What had happened? What had changed?

Maybe if he’d saved her that night … damn it.
He should’ve saved her.

Darrius
remembered returning to the village, screaming her name. He searched debris, braved flames in house after house … and then nothing. The next thing he remembered was his brothers shaking him awake in the woods—more a mile away from town. He didn’t remember how he got there—or why he’d passed out.

A customer exited Alaya’s shop, and he followed the woman’s progress into the
parking lot.

That’s whe
n he saw the apparent Broken Heart committee meeting around Damian’s car. He’d known that Damian and Kelsey had arrived in town more than half an hour ago, and had attempted spying from the parking lot.

The arrival of additional
his friends and family was a new development.

He sighed. He should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to pursue this … this closure on his own. His family and friends worried too much, and since their interference derived from love … he understood. He’d done his fair share of interference on their behalves, hadn’t he?

Finally, his friends and family departed. No doubt they had decided convene somewhere in Broken Arrow to discuss him and Alaya. Darrius shook his head, feeling both bemusement and frustration. He would have to confront them—or rather, reassure them, so that they would leave.

Darrius returned his gaze to Alaya. She had been joined by the human woman who dressed as though she lived in the 1960s. He’d figured out during his recognizance that she was both employee and friend.

Alaya laughed, and he saw the bright flash of her smile. His gut clenched. Once, her smile had been for him.

And so had her heart.

What happened to us, my love?

CHAPTER TWO

ALAYA LOOKED AT Treese, and frowned. “Oh, hell. I’m about to get the social-life lecture, aren’t I?”

             
“I’ve given up on getting you a social life. We should talk about sex.”

             
“Are you kidding? That’s all you ever talk about it.”

             
“Because it’s awesome,” said Treese. “You need to get laid, but we’ll start slow and work our way up. So! You, me, and Beautiful Beaux.”

             
“I don’t want to go to a strip club.”

             
“But it’s Thang in the Thong night.” Treese wiggled her hips. Her long, multi-colored dress swished like an out-of-control rainbow. “You don’t want miss glittery g-strings and glistening gluts.” Treese turned her wiggle into a more enthusiastic dance. Her blonde curls bounced like ribbons of sunshine. “C’mon! If you don’t like the idea of almost naked men jiggling their junk, then you’re not human.”

             
Alaya blinked down at her friend, and then she laughed. She laughed so hard that she bent at the waist and gasped for air.

“What?” asked Treese. Confusion crinkled her expression. “Seriously. What did I say?”

DARRIUS DIDN’T NEED his werewolf senses to know where his family and friends had reconvened. Manzana Café was the only diner in downtown and more of a local hangout. Nearly all the town’s other eateries were located on The
Ruthridge Plaza Pier, where more tourists tended to visit.

He entered the café, breathing in the delicious smells of frying bacon and sizzling beef patties. His olfactory senses tended to focus on his carnivore predilections. Despite the delicious cooking scents, he had no appetite. Not when he’d finally decided to present himself to Alaya.

Ever since he arrived in Broken Arrow, Oregon, he’d been able to do nothing but think of the good times with Alaya. They had been friends since they were pups. She had been his adopted sister’s best friend and was as much as part of his family as his siblings. They’d grown up together—fighting, playing, joking. They attending private school, ate dinners together, roamed the hallways of the family castle, and found the hidden nooks and crannies within the temple of the Moon Goddess.

It was in one of those dark little spaces that he had kissed Alaya for the first time—just a brush of his lips against hers. He was fourteen, and she was six months younger. She’d grinned at him, her teeth showing white and sharp in the
shadows, and then punched him in the solar plexus. It took another two years before her dared to kiss her again, and that experience had been quite different.

He smiled as he remembered those first awkward kisses, the nervous touches, the small, soft sighs.

In his life, in his heart, there had only been Alaya.

Darrius shook off the memories. That had been his problem all along—he was always gazing into the past, wishing for a second chance with Alaya. He compared every woman to her, and none ever measured up. After seven decades, he had to wonder if he’d enshrined her memory …and not even the real Alaya could match the one he’d dreamed about all these long years.

He easily spotted the table full of Broken Heart citizens and company. For one thing, they had taken the only large circular booth that would accommodate eight people. For another, they’d ordered more food than most humans could eat in three days.

“I brought souvenirs,” said Darrius as he approached the table. He held up the bag. “You’ll have something to remember your visit to Broken Arrow. When are you leaving?”

Everyone ignored his question … probably because they were too busy stuffing their mouth holes.

“Hello, baby.” His mother spoke first. She beamed at him, all innocent joy, which made it difficult to stay annoyed with her. “How’s it going with Alaya?”

“He wouldn’t know,” answered Damian. “Because he’s too chicken to talk to her.” He grinned at his youngest brother, and showed off a mouth filled with chili cheese.

“You’re a mongrel,” said Darrius.

“Better than being a chicken.”

“This is the best apple pie I’ve ever had,” managed Drake between massive bites. His fork scraped the pie tin as he dug in again.

Darrius turned to stare at his other brother. “Et tu, Drake?”

“Et tu, Drake and me. We were worried, okay? It’s been seventy years—that’s a whole lifetime for humans.” Darrius directed his attention to Drake’s wife. Moira’s long red hair was pulled into its usual ponytail—a vivid contrast to her dark green sweater. It was one of the rare times she wasn’t dressed in what he thought of as her archaeologist’s uniform: a T-shirt, khaki pants, and hiking boots. “Plus,” she added, “coming to Oregon got me out of a board meeting with the college regents and some fancy schmancy shindig in the Hamptons.”

Darrius eyed Moira’s chicken fried steak. She wasn’t a werewolf, but she sure ate like one. “I thought unicorns were vegans.”

“I’m not a full-blooded unicorn.” Moira pointed her fork at him; gravy dripped from the tines. “So I only have to be vegan on Tuesdays.”

Drake laughed, almost choking on his pie.

“Would you like to join us, Darrius?” asked his mother. “We can make room. Everyone, scoot to your left. Tark, darling, let your son sit down.”

“I can’t move my elbows as it is,” muttered Tark as everyone in the booth started wiggling to the left. His serious gaze was glued to his oversized smart phone.

“No, thanks,” said Darrius. “I’m not staying.”

“You finally gonna talk to your girlfriend?” This question came from Patsy. She was sucking a chocolate milk shake like it was the last one on Earth. Even her husband,
Gabriel, who was generally circumspect and formal in nature, was teeth-deep in a double bacon cheeseburger. Grease dripped off his chin.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” said Darrius. “She’s…” He trailed off unable to come up with a suitable word. He stared at Patsy. “Why are you here?”

“Don’t give me that tone,” said Patsy, who was the mother of five (four of whom were
loup de sang
). “We’re friends. We’ll always be friends, too, because I was the one who bathed and groomed you went you went all wolfie. Remember that? I’ve touched your werewolf penis.” She paused and glanced at her husband. “With soap and a sponge. In a professional stylist capacity.”

Gabriel nodded, apparently too in love with his hamburger to let it go.

Darrius closed his eyes, and tried to get a handle on the moment.

He wasn’t able to do so.

“I found a nice cave not too far from here,” said Tark.

Darrius opened his eyes. His father held up the cell phone so that Darrius could view the satellite map of Broken Arrow. “You have to go down to the beach and swim about a mile east. The cave is just up on the right.”

“And I need a cave because…”

“For Alaya,” said Dad. “Modern dating rituals are idiotic. Date the old-fashioned lycanthrope way, son! How do you think I wooed your mother?”

“It’s true,” said Mom. “He kidnapped me, slung me over his shoulder, and took me to a cave. He was such a beast!”

“Please, stop,” said Damian with a pained expression. “I don’t want to hear about the mating rituals of my parents.”

“Seconded,” said Drake.

Darrius raised his hand. “And the motion carries.”

Tark snorted and returned his attention to the phone.

“Look,” said Darrius, keeping his tone reasonable. “I’m going to talk to Alaya. That’s all. Just. Talk. I don’t need back-up.” He sucked in a breath, offered a smile. “But I appreciate that you all cared enough to follow me here and stick your noses into my personal business.”

“Deal with it,” said Patsy. “Our noses aren’t going anywhere until you talk to her, and we are certain that everything is cool between you two.”

“Please,” he said, his voice quiet. He met each of their gazes. “I need to do this alone. I’m asking you all to go home.”

“Of course,” said his mother. She looked around the table, her expression calm but no-nonsense. “We will go home, won’t we?”

Everyone agreed, albeit reluctantly, but Darrius knew they would go. “Thank you,” he said.
He eyed his father. “Move over, Dad. I might as well have some pie. And one of those milk shakes.”

Everyone started wiggling to the left.

ALAYA PULLED INTO the driveway of her house and parked. She turned off the car and gathered her purse and the bag of groceries she’d purchased. It only took her moments to get to the house and turn off the alarm. She hung her purse on the hall tree, slipped off her shoes, and padded into the kitchen. She put away the foodstuffs and then opened a bottle of merlot. As she sipped the dark, fragrant wine, she thought about Treese’s attempt to drag her out into the night life.

Alaya had barely escaped the spending the entire evening at Beautiful Beaux. She shuddered. Those poor strippers. She could just imagine what Treese would be like after a few Jell-O shots and exposure to sculpted masculine bodies. She wasn’t the most patient or prudent of humans on her best days. Give her some tequila and a reason to grope, and it was all over but the eulogy.

             
Alaya was ready for a bath, a glass of wine, and a marathon of “Supernatural.” Despite the show’s anti-parakind themes, she was utterly addicted. Chiseled jaws, doe-eyed gazes, and all that boyish emoting—whew, she couldn’t get enough.

              She took her wine and went into her bedroom.

Alaya sat on her bed and flicked on the nightstand lamp. The pocket of her jeans buzzed, and she nearly dumped the wine onto the carpet. Cursing under her breath, she put down the glass, and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. Shit. She’d forgotten she’d tucked in there.

Looking at the call ID, she grinned. “That was fast, Treese. I figured it would be least two hours before I had to bail you out of jail.”

“Ha, ha, you’re so funny. I haven’t left my house yet. I’m still deciding on which shoes to wear.”

“Go for flats,” suggested Alaya. “They’ll give you an edge over those drunken women wearing heels. While they fall on their asses, you can skip right by and put $1 bills on the crotch of your choice.”

“You are brilliant.” Treese paused and Alaya heard the thumps of shoes being tossed around. “Are you sure you don’t want to go? I can swing by and pick you up.”

“No, thanks. Besides, I have a date with the Winchester boys.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! You’re going to spend the night mooning over fictional men when you could be getting naughty with real men?”

Alaya laughed, but it wasn’t sincere. Her heart ached. For her, there was only one real man—one she could never have again. “You can have the sweaty dudes who’d been fondled by every Broken Arrow female over the age of 18. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

“All right,” said Treese, sighing. “One of these days, you’re going to tell me who broke your heart … and then apparently sealed up your vagina with Superglue.”

“Treese!”

“What? Oh! Speaking of men who make your womb hurt—I saw a man today so fine, he’d make the polar ice caps melt. Whew, babe. He’s gotta be new in town because believe me, I would’ve noticed him.”

Treese was man-crazy, or she pretended to be. For all her talk, she had never really been in a committed relationship. Sex was easy for her … staying in love not so much.

“What did he look like?”

“Long dark hair, a chin that could cut a diamond, and an ass like a set of bongo drums.”

For a moment, Alaya felt uneasy. Honestly, Treese tended to describe men with the same kind of adjectives. Still, Alaya couldn’t help but ask, “Did you see his eyes?”

“I wish! I totally missed the ol’ windows to the soul. I was driving by when he sauntered out of the Café. Tomorrow, we’re going there for lunch and quizzing the hell out of Helen.”

“You are such a horn dog,” said Alaya. “He was probably just a tourist who got tired of trolling the pier.”

“I hope not,” said Treese. “Found ’em! The perfect pair of flats.”

“Enjoy all that sinning you’re about to do.”

“Amen.” Treese ended the call, and Alaya put down her cell. 

For nearly seventy years, she had managed to steer clear of the royals—and in doing so, she had convinced herself that Darrius no longer cared about her. At least until Damian and Kelsey arrived at the last standing temple of the Moon Goddess. Damian’s reaction had told her all she needed to know—Darrius had not forgotten her.

Alaya entered the master bathroom and ran a hot bath. She sprinkled lavender and chamomile petals across the swirling water, and added a few drops of Eucalyptus essential oil. Hopefully the aromatherapy would settle her emotions and dispel the heartache.

As the tub filled, she disrobed. Alaya studied her naked self in the mirror. The facial scar she hid with scarves started at her right temple, just a thin line of
jagged skin that turned into a gnarl of flesh on her cheek. Half her neck and her shoulder bore the twisted marks of the fire that should’ve taken her life.

She tried not to take her days for granted. She tried to be grateful, tried to find the good in everyone. Yet, every day, she thought of Darrius, dreamed of their lives as they might’ve been, and grieved his loss.