Her Werewolf Hero (6 page)

She'd slept next to this gorgeous man last night. And she wasn't going to tell anyone it had been in separate beds. Sometimes all the details weren't necessary. And then this morning he had hugged her as if she had been the last woman on earth. And she'd wanted to kiss him because she'd been in a weird mental place, struggling with the facts about her heart and wanting it to not be real. And because, well, she'd never kissed a man with a beard before. Curiosity strikes! And when a handsome man pulled her close, well—bam. Need had kicked in. She wasn't beyond sex for the sake of placating her emotions or because she just needed to connect with another person for a few blissful moments.

“You have a girlfriend, Bron?” Sitting back, she poured another cup of coffee, then tinted the dark brew with three creamers.

“The job I have doesn't allow time for relationships.”

“Really? Lots of people travel and are able to maintain relationships.”

He delivered her a castigating flash of blue eye from behind a fork load of eggs.

All right, so the man had also mastered the dirty look. She'd try a different tack. “You must travel a lot.”

“Always. I'm never in one place for long. Women tend to want to see a man more than once every six months or so, wouldn't you say?”

“Yes, I suppose. But you must have a home base?”

He shrugged. “Paris is one of my bases. I own a loft in the sixth. I've been there twice this year for less than a week total. This is the first time I've been in the States in over a dec—uh, a long time. I also own a tiny apartment in New York but don't anticipate stopping there unless my return flight has a layover. My missions usually run back-to-back.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

He raised a brow as he buttered the last piece of rye toast on his plate.

“I travel, too,” she offered. “Or I'm just getting into the traveler's mode. Have been traveling for a couple months and hope to make it a permanent career. My blog has become so popular I need to expand my horizons and take in new places for my photo shoots. It feels right to me. I can't imagine settling to live in one place for too long now. I've been in Thief River Falls a few days, and it already seems like forever. It's my hometown, but I've found I prefer Europe.”

“You have family here?”

“Not anymore. My parents moved to Brussels eight years ago, and I had always meant to follow them and then explore the world. But, well...” She sighed and sipped the coffee. “Sometimes relationships get in the way, as well as the lack of money. But no more! Everything changed eight months ago. I've prioritized what means the most to me. And that is seeing the world. Now I'm a free soul blowing about on the breeze.”

“Breezes sometimes turn into hurricanes,” he remarked drily.

“Really? Because I've always thought they were pretty gentle. I wouldn't mind a stronger wind. I like going to new places. When I'm finished here in Minnesota, I'm on to Romania. I've already put in for an apartment. I'll be shooting pictures for their department of tourism.”

“Romania is beautiful country. But for a woman alone? You don't go wandering about in the woods all by yourself, do you? You do take along a friend or guide?”

She shrugged. “Haven't had the need or the desire.” Though it was something to consider. She wasn't worldly-wise yet. And if vampires were real, she should definitely bring along a guide or a protector. Or a vampire slayer. Did they hire out? “I'm careful. Besides, now I know how to fight off a vampire. That should count for something.”

He smirked, and she wanted to reach across the table and trace her finger over the crinkled lines at the corner of his eye. And stroke his beard. It was thick along the jaw, dark and—now the idea of testing out a kiss from a bearded man popped into her brain. And then she wanted to stand in his arms again and release her worries into his strong hold and fall into him. That hug had been awesome. And much needed.

“That hit the spot,” he said and pushed his plate to the table's edge.

Kizzy startled out of her daydream. Her father had always said her biggest problem was that she was a daydreamer. She had never considered daydreaming a detriment. It had gotten her this far. She hoped to follow the reverie all the way to the end.

So long as that end didn't come about because of a missing heart. Plucked out by a werewolf.

The waitress appeared to retrieve their plates and leave them a fresh pot of coffee.

“Thanks,” Bron said. “Have you pie?”

“Cherry, apple and boysenberry,” the waitress supplied cheerfully.

“How about a thin slice of each?”

The waitress bristled gleefully and headed off to the kitchen.

“You must really like pie,” Kizzy said.

“I do intend to share.”

“Thanks. That must not come easily to you.”

“What? Sharing?”

She nodded.

“Just because I'm a lone man making my way through the world doesn't mean I've not the capacity to empathize with others. Besides, I have a theory. Pie is a universal means to friendship. And, I'm hoping, an olive branch necessary to make up for the past twelve hours. I didn't mean to bring all this into your life.”

“I think that tracking thing was the culprit.”

“Yes.” He patted his jeans pocket and then pulled the device from his pocket. With a crisp snap, it broke in two in his hand. “Should have done that as soon as I figured out you were the target. Still might have some residual magic attached to it. I'll ditch it in the garbage bin out back when we leave. Another cup of coffee and then I'll be fueled up.”

“Where to next?”

“Perhaps keep driving. With the tracker destroyed, it shouldn't take long to notice if it's effective. If we don't run into anything wanting to rip out your heart today, I'd say you could be safe to return to Thief River Falls.”

A day didn't seem like a good bet, but Kizzy wouldn't argue. Besides, spending the day with this guy would give her time to learn about him. And he about her. Which reminded her...

“I need to tell you something, Bron. It could be important to your mission. It's about my heart.”

The waitress delivered three pie plates and two forks and offered extra ice cream. All they had to do was call for Alice. Bron said they'd be fine and thanked her.

Kizzy pulled the apple pie toward her, and, sitting up on one folded leg, she leaned over the table and teased at the warm apple slices swimming in cinnamon beneath a crispy crust. “I think I can verify my heart is what you're seeking. At least, my dreams do.”

“Dreams?”

She sighed and set down the fork. “I've been having a recurring dream since the surgery. I wake up feeling a pressure in my chest and remember the feel of a hand clutching my heart.”

Did she need to tell him it was a werewolf clutching her heart? It didn't matter, did it?

Bron paused before taking a bite of the cherry pie.

“The open-heart surgery I had? I was in a car accident eight months ago. It was my boyfriend's fault. Keith. He uh... No, it was my fault, really. We were arguing.”

She bowed her head and swallowed. If they hadn't been arguing, Keith may have never felt compelled to drive them off the road. And he would still be alive. Much as she had wanted to get away from him at the time, she had never wished for his death. For that she would always have regrets. And guilt.

“I wanted to break it off with him,” she said, swallowing down the lump in her throat, “and had been biding my time for the right moment. We'd dated for six months. He was very possessive. And obsessed with me to the point that I'd find him going through the messages on my cell phone and telling my friends when they were allowed to call me. He didn't beat me, but he had begun to be verbally abusive. Always saying he'd never let me go, no matter what.”

“Doesn't sound very loving.”

“I think it was his way of expressing love. Loud and in my face. He grew up with an alcoholic father and no mother. I always wondered if that was why he was so possessive.”

She forked in a slice of pie. It was warm and sweet. But she couldn't enjoy it, because she had to put it all out there before she chickened out.

“But anyway, for the last four to six weeks of our relationship, as Keith's verbal abuse increased, I could only think about how to break it off. I let it go on too long. I should have walked away sooner. I have a tendency to either put things off forever or to just dive in without thought. So I sort of did both.

“I told him one night when he was driving us home from the casino. Bad idea. It was January and raining, which instantly froze to ice. He got so angry. Accused me of being a whacko. I had shared with him my belief in the paranormal, and he'd always thought it was cute. And he knew about the blog. But he accused me of being a tinfoil-wearing maniac. Then he shouted that if he couldn't have me, no one could, and he swerved the car off the road while driving eighty miles an hour.”

Bron blew out a breath and set down his fork. In that moment their eyes met, and she saw something in the blue depths. Compassion? Understanding? It felt tangible and almost as needed as that warm hug had been. He didn't say anything, and she was thankful that he didn't feel the need to reassure her or offer her condolences.

“I was told he died instantly,” she said, finding her voice didn't tremble, but it had softened to a whisper. “When I came to in the ditch, I felt as though my chest had deflated, and I couldn't get out of the car. An ambulance rushed me into the Grand Forks ER, and my heart stopped on the operating-room table. The doctors had to crack open my chest and massage my heart. Brought me back to life after six minutes without a heartbeat.”

She spread her fingers over her chest, feeling the long scar beneath the thin T-shirt. It would forever remind her of a bad decision. Of how a life had been lost because of her poor timing.

“A few days after I'd been lying in the hospital I finally got to talk to the operating surgeon. He was nice. Cute. He said he'd almost thought he'd lost me. And then he made a weird comment how my heart had been scarred. Almost as if someone had grasped it with their fingers and left behind the impression. Then he jokingly said it hadn't been him.”

“Really?”

She nodded. Her heart beat rapidly now. She didn't like to retell that night. Because she'd been stupid to have actually stayed with Keith that long. Hadn't found a better means to break it off with him. Had almost died because of her rash, ill-timed announcement.

“So you think your boyfriend...?” Bron asked.

She shrugged. “Maybe? All this just came to me earlier when I was standing outside the motel. I mean, I never thought Purgatory would be open to Keith. He's not very deserving of anything but Hell.”

“Has he ever killed, maimed, committed a mortal sin?”

“I don't think so. Oh, I'm sure not. His bark was always worse than his bite.”

“Then who are you to judge where his soul was capable of going upon death?”

“I'm not judging, I'm—” Angry that Bron seemed to be accusing her of something. Kizzy stared out the window, no longer interested in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Hadn't he the capacity to sympathize with her?

“The ways of the soul are something we can never know,” he offered peacefully. “And I didn't mean to sound as if I was judging you, Kisanthra. I do think it a possibility that man's soul clutched your heart in death. You said he'd told you he'd never let you go?”

She nodded. How creepy to think that her boyfriend had been so obsessed with her that even in death he had tried to possess her?

“You think it could be Keith's handprint on my heart? Does that mean we're still connected somehow? How long does a soul stay in Purgatory? This is even weirder than vampires. It's freaking me out, Bron.”

He clasped her hand, and she met his soulful blue eyes. Hero eyes. Eyes that showed more compassion than he was probably comfortable physically showing. And why all of a sudden did she crave that physical connection from him? If she could have leaned across the table and pulled him into a hug, she would have.

“I don't think he can cause you any more grief,” he said. “It's the living creatures who might like to get their hands on an entrance to Purgatory of which you have to be cautious.”

“That's so not reassuring.” He smiled and that lightened her heavy heart, and she laughed terribly. “Promise you won't leave me alone until it's clear I'm not in danger?”

He nodded. “I give you my word.”

“Yes, you've said that. But how can I know if your word is good?”

He pushed the untouched plate of boysenberry pie toward her. “I'll offer you the last piece as a sign of good will.”

She chuckled and dug into the rich purple dessert. “Pie does cover a world of aches and pains.”

“Thanks for telling me about your accident and the relationship with your former lover, Kisanthra. It may indeed provide some help with this mission, though at the moment I'm not sure how.”

Now she laid her hand over his. “I prefer Kizzy.”

He winced. “It sounds so...”

“You're a little old-fashioned, aren't you?”

He shrugged. “Guilty. These young, strange names are too modern for my tastes.”

“Seriously? You're not that old.”

“Yes, but— It's beautiful. I will give Kizzy a try.”

“It's easy. Like fizzy or tizzy or dizzy. Should we see if they have to-go cups, so we can take more coffee with us for the drive?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Off to adventure,” she said. “Do you have an extra stake?”

His raised his eyebrow and waited for the punch line.

“I should probably practice my thrust and stab while we're driving.”

“I'd expect nothing less from you. I'll see what I have.”