Her Werewolf Hero

“Yeah,” she said on a nervous sigh. Though why should she have expected a friendly “how do you do” instead of an attack? The creatures she believed in were deadly and dangerous, and, hell, yes, they flew and had claws and went after people.

But still, the surprise of suddenly knowing was exciting. Things she’d always wanted to believe in did exist. How cool was that?

Suddenly the truck swerved, and they turned right. Toward town.

“Wait? What are you doing?”

“They’re veering toward town. I can’t let them out of my sight.”

* * *

There were two of them. They soared toward the small town and circled back like vultures eyeing the kill. Harpies had minds like birds yet also like men. The human side of them was calculating; the animal side ruthless. Bron knew they had identified his truck. But were they aware the woman was still with him? Why had they gone after her? Because it hadn’t been him they were after. Harpies generally avoided his sort.

He turned the vehicle sharply into an alley. It was strange to find himself back in this town. He knew this area. Had been here about fifty years earlier on a mission. He’d met a witch... Lots of memories—both good and bad—he didn’t have time to resurrect now.

Here in the tight confines of the town, night darkened the narrow tarmac; there were no streetlights, so he pulled over to park and turned off the vehicle’s headlights. Leaning across the seat, he opened the glove compartment. Half a dozen arrows tumbled forward, and he grasped them all. The hand-sized crossbow he utilized was a sweet little weapon designed by the Acquisition’s Armoury. It had biothermal-GPS tracking to lock in a target and pinpoint accuracy. Also, the fletch-less arrows were tipped with silver, and the hollow core was filled with rowan wood. Useful against werewolves, vampires and, fortunately, harpies.

He got out of the truck and the woman followed. Standing in the narrow alleyway, he didn’t worry for her safety. He’d have her back if the creatures swooped down toward her. The trouble was, she was fascinated. Not scared enough to look out for herself.

No matter where his journeys took him or what creatures he encountered while on a mission, Bron always strove to keep that which shouldn’t be known from humans. Having the “it’s real” talk with them never went over well. And if it did feel necessary, it was always easier to walk away and pretend they were the crazy ones. A vampire? Eh, you’re nuts.

But this woman? In the heat of the moment when she should have been cowering and screaming, instead she’d taken pictures. And one of the Retrievers’ unwritten rules was to never provide proof. He had to get those digital files. Or destroy her camera.

As well, he had a moral obligation to make sure she was safe before bringing her home. He couldn’t drop her off in the middle of this small town. She’d be a target. Why the harpies had pursued her was beyond him. Perhaps they’d been following the tracker’s vibrations, and when he’d gotten too close to her they had picked up her scent and gone with it. Harpies were flesh eaters. Though, if hungry, why hadn’t they simply gone for the children on the swings?

Why were they even in the mortal realm? Their habitat was Faery.

A bone-twanging screech alerted his attention to the left. Crossbow at the ready, he tracked the creature soaring overhead. The other was out of sight. Until he heard the screech behind him.

And the woman’s scream.

Releasing the trigger, the arrow caught the first bird in the heart. It faltered into a death spin and dropped out of sight behind a wood fence. Bron quickly reloaded. A whoosh of wings moved his hair. He ducked, landing on one knee, and twisted to see the harpie’s claw extend toward the woman’s head. She plunged to the tarmac. His arrow found its target.

He lunged to grab her arm and pull her forward to avoid the heavy drop of the creature’s body. She clung to him, her body heaving, breaths gasping. Moonlight caught in a glint on the tiny gold cross she wore on a delicate chain about her neck. But before he could begin to consider the sensual curves hugging his torso and the warm, fresh scent of her, she pushed away and shuffled backward.

Her shoulders hugged the brick building. “So not a cool first date,” she said.

“Date?”

Ah. She was joking. More points for bravery on her part.

The harpie’s body glowed and burned without flame. The embers quickly dissipated, leaving behind a scatter of black feathers.

“But that was cool,” she said. She patted her chest, then snapped her fingers. She’d left the camera in the truck.

And Bron had veered madly off course.

“Get in,” he said. “More could follow.”

She quickly got into the vehicle.

He tugged the crystal tracker out of his pocket and turned it over. Around the edges it glowed a soft blue.

“What is that?” she asked. “Is that what you were looking at when I first saw you in the park?”

“This?” He leaned back and flipped it between his fingers, but then it suddenly shot out of his hand.

And landed right on the woman’s chest.

“What the hell?” He reached for it, but she slapped his hand away. “Sorry.”

“What is it?” She didn’t try to touch it but was clearly afraid of whatever it was attached to her T-shirt. It had landed right above her breast, which Bron couldn’t help but notice was nicely shaped and—ah hell, no, it stuck to her.

“Are you wearing metal? Something magnetic under your shirt? Maybe a bra with a metal ring in the strap?”

“I, uh... No bra today.”

Yep, he noticed that now. Her nipples were pert and erect.

“What is it? Why is it stuck to me?” She pried gently at it, and the tracker came away briefly but then snapped back to nestle on top of her breast. “Get it off me!”

Why did it stick to her? Made from crystal and infused with Light magic, it wasn’t even magnetic. It shouldn’t be reacting this way. On the other hand, he had no idea what its properties were.

Bron reached for the tracker, more than willing to pry it from her breast, but then he paused. A realization hit him hard. “Blessed Herne. Really?”

The director hadn’t specified the heart he sought would be live and beating inside someone’s chest.

Chapter 3 (#ulink_96df72a1-7600-5647-9d87-4807afd95f8e)

Kizzy peeled the weird little piece of glass from her shirt and handed it to Bron. He clasped his fingers over it, closed his eyes and shook his head. As if regretfully? She didn’t know what the thing was, but everything associated with the man was out there and strange. And if he was up on all things paranormal, then the glass piece could be magical.

That didn’t mean she wanted it stuck to her chest.

All of a sudden he shifted the truck into gear and drove onward. “We need to fill up with gas. I saw a station at the edge of town.”

“Fill? Where are you going? Because I’m not going along. I’m staying in town. That way.” She pointed out the back window. “Just drop me off anywhere, and I can walk. Really. It’s not that far. Pull over here, and I can make it on my own.”

“They are after you—what is your name?”

“Kizzy. Who are after me? Harpies?”

“What kind of name is Kizzy?”

“It’s short for Kisanthra. Kisanthra Lewis.” She offered her hand to shake, which he ignored as he swerved toward the gas station. “Photographer. Blogger. World traveler. Soon to be getting the hell out of your life.”

“Blogger?”

“Yes, I’ve a blog called Other Wonders. All about—oy.” She sighed heavily. “Is this for real? I mean, really? Am I being punked?” She peered out the side window. “Where’s Ashton Kutcher?”