Heart Mates (5 page)

He blinked. The bright lights resolved into the Uncommon Bookstore. He and Sophia lay on the old reading sofa.

Sophia had fallen asleep, a tiny smile on her face. He gazed at her in wonder.

From first meet to orgasm in less than a day. Even for shifters that was incredibly fast.

Yet it felt right. Almost as if…

His mate?

No. Again. Couldn’t be. Not a human.

His heart slowed as his body cooled. The wet in his jeans cooled past the point of discomfort. He still didn’t move, needing the contact with Sophia—until it occurred to him that she might be uncomfortable too.

He slid off and went in search of a blanket. After that disastrous hexing last night, the aunt had gotten a sheet out of a freestanding armoire to cover the mirror. He opened a door, found a light woven blanket and returned to drape it over Sophia.

She sighed and snuggled in. His heart swelled.

He shushed it. Human. Not his mate.

Still, he pulled a chair near to her and watched over her as she slept.

The wizard known as X picked up the hem of his silk robe and stalked past the wolf man into the dirty trailer. X’s familiar hopped off his shoulder as he did. The familiar refused to enter the filthy place. The familiar, X thought, had the right idea.

When X saw what was waiting for him, he stopped in his tracks.

The female cowering in the corner was stick-thin, dirty and ragged. Scowling, X took out his tool, a foot-long rod that was the color of air-bubbled blood. The tool warmed in his hand. He circled it at the cringing female to activate its analytic properties; it would tell him how much magic the skeletal wreck actually had.

At the readings, he snarled. “Can it be? Have you actually found a female scrawnier, sicker and poorer than the rest?”

“She’s not pack,” the wolfman whined. “She’s the only fuckin’ wolf we could get.”

X sneered at the pathetic creature. At
Killer
. What a burlesque of a name for a stupid, dirty animal. “What’s your excuse this time?”

“It’s that new fuckin’ alpha. He’s watching us too closely. Doesn’t let any females go out alone. Sends fuckin’ Mason along or goes himself.”

“There’s one of him and five of you. Deal with him.”

“Blackwood’s different. Stronger. Master, we got him to fight the old alpha before he was ready, like you said. But he won. He’s different,” Killer repeated. “Stronger. Give us more. Give us something to help crush the fucker for good.”

“You want
more
?” X’s eyes rolled in contempt. “When you offer barely adequate tribute? Do I not already provide you with drugs to make you more powerful, amulets to help you lure whatever female you want, make her do whatever you want?”

The wolfman hung his head. “Yes, master. But this new alpha is just too much—”

“Stop complaining.” Idiot anti-alphas. Big men when beating up on bitches and pups, but let a real challenge face them and they were whiny girly dogs. “I suppose this offering will have to do.” X turned from the pathetic loser to put one hand on the female’s forehead and ready the tool in the other.

He paused. “On second thought, I will be generous to you. Find me a weapon and I will ensorcell it—
if
you have discovered more information on Blackwood.” He glared at the pathetic Killer.

“Yes, master.” The wolfman practically whimpered. “He comes from Mason’s old pack out west, but he wasn’t born there.”

“That’s all you have?”

“Mason’s old lady is dead, master, and no one knows Blackwood’s bitch mother.”

“
Imbecile.
Answer me this.
Is he the one we seek?
” Spittle flew onto X’s chin. He wiped it away with an automatic fastidious flick. “Never mind. It’s obvious you couldn’t find a pimple on the end of your dick. I’ll know the answer soon enough.”

He turned to the bitch, slapped his hand against her forehead and triggered the talisman. Magic sucked out of her, flowing into him. She deflated like a ball, head caving in first. He pressed harder, following her as she slowly collapsed to the floor. She didn’t move, other than her gradual shriveling, didn’t even whimper. At least the wolfman had done one thing right, drugging her to the gills.

When she’d collapsed into a pile of useless biology, he removed his hand. Stood, stronger and younger and flush with magic.

The wolfman’s face was white. X almost turned the talisman on the pathetic excuse for a were. But no, Killer had his uses. All the power-hungry anti-alphas across the country were useful, manipulated to make their packs weak and vulnerable. Make their females available for X’s draining.

And of course, prod key young dogs into premature alpha fights. The fact that Blackwood had actually won made him all the more interesting.

This time, though…ah, this time X was with this pack for another purpose—a long-overdue revenge. He decided to be merciful.

“Will this switchblade do, master?” Killer handed X a palm-sized handle.

“Let’s see.” With the flick of X’s thumb, a wicked blade erupted straight out of the top, slender as a needle and sharp as hell. It was a weapon of surprise, of deception. X was astonished Killer was smart enough to own something this clever, this deadly. Even the troublesome Blackwood wouldn’t see it until it was far too late.

X stabbed the tip into his finger. His blood boiled out, sizzling onto the metal like water on a hot oiled fry pan. Gradually the bubbling subsided, the blood sinking into the blade as if it was being absorbed.

“Whet its appetite with the blood of its prey, as both man and beast.” X retracted the blade and handed the knife back to Killer.

“You mean stick fuckin’ Blackwood twice?”

“Yes. Man, then wolf. When it is blooded, return it to me and I will finish the poisoning. And Killer?” X waited, eyes narrowed, until the wolf trembled appropriately. “Next time, make sure the bitch is healthy.” He swept up his golden robe and stalked out.

Chapter Five

Sophia woke as the world brightened with predawn, a smile on her face. She felt wonderful, better than she had for years.

She opened her eyes and felt even better.

A luscious man, pure art in black hair and silver eyes and broad shoulders, watched over her. Protectiveness gleamed in that intelligent gaze, along with the masculine satisfaction of a man who’d given her the best orgasm of her life.

Happiness burst inside her like a radiant dawn. Like winning the lottery. It had been months since she’d had any kind of orgasm, much less one as perfect as that. The fact that he’d stuck around and was gazing at her with such tenderness? Better than winning the lottery twice.

“Hi.” She felt a little shy. It’d also been months since a guy had seen her first thing in the morning.

“Sleep well?” His deep voice, roughened with a little morning growl, made him even sexier.

“Wonderfully. I must have been more tired than I realized. Well, with the drive and worrying about my aunt—
my aunt
.” She sat up abruptly. A blanket fell to her waist. He’d covered her. That was incredibly sweet.

But her aunt was missing and she’d lost…how long? She tossed aside the blanket and stood. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. Why didn’t you wake me? What time is it?”

He raised one black brow. “Which do you want answered first?”

“Time.”

He pointed at the window, where impending sunrise brightened the glass. His expression turned puzzled, then alarmed. He leaped to his feet.

“Noah? What’s wrong—?”

She was talking to his broad back.

She started after him but stopped when her pants slid down her hips. “Noah?”

He’d already disappeared through the rattling curtain of beads. If he was looking for the bathroom, he was going to be disappointed. Those were in the store.

As the beads settled, she straightened all her clothing then waited for him to return. The seconds ticked by. “Noah?” It suddenly occurred to her that he wasn’t coming back. Maybe he regretted what they’d done. Maybe he’d sneaked out the back.

She ran to the beaded curtain and poked her head into the kitchen. “Noah, if you’re still here, say something.”

Silence. The room was empty.

An orgasm, a sweet smile and thoughtful blanket, but then he’d run away? Happiness shriveled as regret thickened her throat and lynched her muscles of strength.

Shoulders slumping, she wandered back to the sofa and collapsed.

A yip raised her head.

“King.” Her mood immediately brightened. At least
someone
loved…um, needed her.

He jumped onto the couch beside her. She picked him up, and when he licked her face enthusiastically, she giggled.

A banker, an assistant VP, giggling. But the poofball made her feel light as a girl. “Noah’s gone, King. You just missed him.” So did she. No, she didn’t miss
him
. She missed the backup he could have provided when she tracked down Marlowe. “Too bad I can’t have you as my protector.”

He yipped and wiggled, the universal language for “down”. When Sophia set him on the floor he scampered to the front door. Well, skittered actually, toenails clacking like he was trying to stride but his little legs were too short. What a strange combination of cute and assertive.

He stood before the door and yipped a couple times, wagging his tail expectantly. She realized he stood on bare, clean floor. Noah had swept up the glass.

All that walking sex appeal,
plus
tidy? Where did she sign up?

King yipped. She got to her feet. “You want walkies?”

He
grred
a definite “no”.

“Something to do with outside, though?”

The
grr
transformed to a happy little yip.

She smiled. There she was, imagining he was talking again. “This is about Noah?” At another yip she said, “You think Noah ran out on me too, huh?”

King trotted back to her, his little legs under better control. He stopped directly in front of her and nailed her straight in the eye. That stern look said,
If you think Noah ever runs out on his responsibilities, you don’t know him at all
.

Sophia was momentarily shocked. Then she laughed. More likely his stare meant,
Let me out before I burst a faucet
.

“Okay, let me try to find your leash.” But despite searching, she could find neither leash nor collar.

Tapping her pearls, Sophia stood there. What to do? Let him out and hope he didn’t run away? Or slip out to buy a leash and risk his anointing Auntie’s porous hardwood floors and mint-condition Persian carpeting? Because the papers in the kitchen hadn’t been used. Maybe there already was a surprise waiting for her somewhere.

King started pawing the front door. Maybe she could improvise a collar? Something the size of her wrist…fingers tapping at her necklace, she got an idea.

Near the register glittered a display of costume necklaces and bracelets, rhinestone and paste in lovely pastels and jewel tones, all mint condition. Aunt Linda had a fondness for antique jewelry. Sophia picked out a sapphire bracelet as King trotted up with an annoyed
whuff
. “Hold out your neck.”

He cautiously extended his head. Sophia knelt and fastened it around his furry neck. It was too loose.

She took it off and selected a smaller bracelet, which happened to be a sparkling pink.

King growled.

“Quiet. You get a collar or you don’t go out.”

King bared teeth and started yapping loud and fast, as if he was reading her the riot act. He even stomped once as if for emphasis, his package bobbling in a way that reminded her forcefully he was not in any way an “it”.

“
Okay
.” She put the pink bracelet back. “Happy now?”

King gave a final snarl and shut his mouth.

“This doesn’t mean I think you understand me.” She sorted through the rest of the bracelets. “Wereterrier? Please. No shifters of any domesticated breed except cat, and those don’t count. Even house cats aren’t truly domesticated.” She picked out an emerald bracelet with a hook on one end and a chain on the other. Not as sturdy as the blue or pink with their solid clasps, but it had the advantage of being sizable. “Although one might argue all ferrets are weres. Does this one meet with Your Highness’s approval?”

King gave a disgruntled yip, but he sat still while she put it on. It seemed secure so she tied on some thick string as a makeshift leash and headed out for Marlowe’s place.

First morning light, cut with the long shadows, dusted the sidewalk and glittered off dew, golden light that made the whole day seem fresh and ripe with possibilities.

Sophia nearly shared her thoughts with King, realized how foolish it was, and clamped her lips.

Which was foolish too. If talking to King made her feel good, what was wrong with that? In fact, maybe “talking to King” was really only working through her problems out loud. That wasn’t crazy.

Although the thinking-he-answered part probably was.

Oh well. Who was around to notice? She smiled again. “So, King. Where do you think Noah went? Should we try to find him?” Given everything she’d heard about Marlowe, it would be nice to have the big strong alpha by her side.

With a yip, King whirled and trotted in the other direction. Her gut jolted. Had he understood and caught the trail?

He trotted toward a tree.

She laughed. Right, he could “understand” her. “Okay, hurry up and do your business. With what everyone’s been saying about him, the earlier the better to confront Marlowe.”

King whirled again and almost upended himself, like he was expecting a bigger counterweight than his little stub of a tail. He recovered immediately, braced his hind end and barked at her like he meant it.

“Fine.” She raised a hand. “Do your business and I’ll take you home before I go.”

“Yip
yip.
” King glared.

That was a “no way” if she’d ever heard one. “Well, I’m going to Marlowe’s, and I’m going now. Are you coming or not?”

He gave a disgruntled “yes” of a yip.

She hid a smile. “Then let’s go.”

She thought she’d just knock and ask a few polite questions. But when she got to the address a block past the sidewalk’s end, she was confronted by a yard-circling hedge as friendly as bailed wire. Remembering Miss Almira’s warnings, fear splashed into her blood.

She crunched with King up the driveway through the weed-choked lot. A hand-painted sign with red drips read,
Go away or get shot
.

Subtle.

She wanted to laugh at the corny sign, wanted to laugh off her fear, but as she mounted the stoop to the rusty trailer with the blackout windows, King gave a worried little yip. Maybe wondering if she was going through with this. Heart pounding in her ears, she was asking herself the same thing.

Deep breath. She knocked on the door.

It swung open. Five-ten of punk-assed teen werewolf stared groggily at her.

“Marlowe?” She kept her stance and gaze neutral, not aggressive but not victimish either.

His eyes sharpened on her. “Who’s asking?” He stepped out, crowding her back.

Not just a punk-assed were, but a bully.

King leaped between her and Marlowe, the brave little thing. The dog yapped sternly. She could practically hear him say,
Knock it off, kid
.

With a snarl, Marlowe kicked King.

“Hey.” She reached out to stop him.

The kick swished air. Leaping nimbly to the side, King kept yapping, not angry so much as telling the kid to shape up pronto or else.

Marlowe swore and missed another couple kicks. With an irritated spit to the side, he turned his attention to Sophia.

Oh, the look that kid gave her, from head to toe and definitely in between. Her palm itched to slap him. But questions first. “I’d like to talk with you. May I come in?”

King threw her a look that clearly said he thought she was nuts. She shrugged. She couldn’t disagree.

Marlowe sneered up his attitude. “Sure. Yum, yum.”

“Ew. I’m probably nearly a decade older than you.”

“Ain’t you heard of cougars?”

“Ain’t you heard, cougar beats wolf?” A giveaway that she knew about werewolves, but she was tired of the boy. She shouldered past him into the trailer, King following silently. She thought it telling that the dog refused to sniff around.

Trash cluttered the place. Not clutter like her aunt’s store. There was clutter from an active mind, clutter from folks too tired to clean, clutter from kids and clutter from illness.

Then there was the miasma of filth-in filth-out, like a snake’s nest of sloughed skin. Her own skin crawled. The rising sun struggled through grimy windows, sills lined with beer bottles. Amber light splotched everywhere—except one corner.

A single red bottle lit that corner like the wall wept blood.
A sign
.

Death had happened here.

If Sophia had been a practicing witch, she’d have cleansed the place with fire. As it was she vowed to find out what had happened and make whoever was responsible pay.

The kid pushed past her and turned with a grin. “Welcome to your worst nightmare.” It was a rehearsed line.

“Grow up.” She straightened to her full height and looked him in the eye. “I have questions. About your theft. Why the bookstore?”

“Me? Theft?” Marlowe overdid the innocence. “Maybe old lady Blue needs better protection.”

King sat on disgusted haunches. She didn’t even bother contradicting the kid. “Who told you to steal from her?”

“Kille—hey. No trick questions.
I
didn’t steal anything.”

She held both hands up. “One more. Did my aunt come here to retrieve her property?”

“Please. We don’t allow scrawny old hens like her with us prime bachelors.”

And again, ew. That was her cue to exit. “Thanks. I’ll be going.”

“Yip!” King barked a warning. Marlowe’s eyes flicked to a spot behind her. His slow, lurid smile made the hairs on her nape rise.

“You ain’t fucking’ going nowhere.”

“You must be Killer.” She turned, easy, but inside her nerves were screaming.

“In the fuckin’ flesh.” Filling the doorway was an f-bomb werewolf on toothpick legs. “Speaking of fuckin’ flesh…” He grabbed his crotch and bumped his hips.

She ground fists into her eyes, trying to scrub out her retinas. Killer was Marlowe but heavier, hairier and not as subtle. Now she knew where the kid learned his suave way with the ladies.

Killer sauntered toward her. She dropped her hands, loose, ready for fight or flight.

Pain unexpectedly seared her side. She bit back a yelp and slapped a hand over her pocket. A hard length met her palm.

The carbon fiber wand was in her blazer pocket, primed with battle magic, acting as if it was still hers.

Yes.
She could instantly downgrade this ass with a whip of the wand.

Shame, sealing her magic away, dying…
She hesitated.

King leaped between them, barking angrily at Killer.

The wolfman snapped teeth at the dog. “Looks like I’m having me a snack first.”

For the little dog’s sake. She grabbed the wand.

A lightning bolt of pain ripped from her hand, through her skull and heart before ripping out the other hand.

She shrieked and let go. She’d thought maybe…but not just shame kept her from using her magic. Some seals were not made to be broken.

“That’s the scream you’ll make when I’m fuckin’ you.” Killer took another threatening step toward her.

King darted in to nip a warning at Killer’s ankles then leaped back as if to protect her.

“Oh noes.” Killer pointed a sarcastically trembling finger. “The nasty doggie’s guarding you. I’m sooo scared.”

King stood quivering at the ready. Poor brave dear. She couldn’t let him get hurt for her. No magic, so resist the mundane way. Lifting her breastbone, she said in her coldest voice, “Move aside. I’m leaving.”

“Not before you and me have some fun, girlie.” Killer grabbed her arm, fingers biting.

King leaped, tearing the string leash from her hand. He ran through Killer’s legs, trailing string, slaloming a figure-eight, winding Killer’s ankles.