by C. C. Hunter
Suddenly a hand latched on to her arm and yanked her away. She went to strike, to fight, to kill and forgot she held no power to defend herself—not with Lucas gone. As a protector she could only protect others. Her heart sank to the bottom of her rib cage. How could she have failed? How could she stop trying? She attempted to yank free to return to Lucas.
Roughly, her attacker swung her around to face him. Before she even got a good look at him, she felt his palm slap her cheek. The sting burned her face, her heart, and her soul. The powerful blow knocked her to the ground.
Refusing to give up on Lucas, she rose up to go to him, but before she found her footing, the werewolf had her again. Yanking her around, he put his face in hers. She smelled his sour breath. She saw his yellowed teeth. Saw his smile, not one of comfort or sympathy, but one that said he loved hurting others.
“Kill her,” an older-sounding voice spoke up. He moved in and Kylie saw him. “She is the infidel that caused it. It is because of you, he had to die.” His gaze went to the Were. “I said kill her!”
“As you request.”
The younger were’s free hand caught around her throat. He shoved her against a tree. His hold tightened. She felt her airway shrink, her tight tendons bruise, her knees give. Her lungs begged for air.
Her soul begged to live.
Black spots, like fireworks, flashed in her vision, blinding her from seeing her killer’s face. Was this it? Her next thought swept over her with comfort. Lucas would be waiting on the other side.
She welcomed the end, but then she dropped like dead weight to the ground, her knees hitting hard. Tiny sharp rocks cut through the flannel and into her skin. The fireworks stopped. Her vision cleared. She gagged, then blinked and saw her attacker sprawled out on the ground before her. Blood oozed from his lips. His head cocked to an odd angle. His neck had obviously been broken.
By who?
She attempted to pull air into her sore throat. Her lungs, still burning, refused the air, but she forced herself to move to Lucas. Praying she wasn’t too late. Then she saw him. Her hero. Her life mate. Not on the ground where she’d left him, but standing. Alive.
Joy opened up her throat and vanquished the pain in her heart. His eyes met hers, then he turned and grabbed the old were.
Lucas held him against a tree by his throat. “Why?” Lucas growled out the question.
“You are destroying the way of our people.” The man’s voice came out graveled, but his lungs still got air. “You are poisoning our ways.”
“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.” Lucas inched forward, and Kylie saw the old man’s face redden.
Forcing herself to her feet, she stumbled to him. “Lucas.” It hurt to speak, but her words mattered, so she forced them out. “Don’t. Let him die in jail. Killing him is too easy.”
Lucas’s gaze, orange and angry, focused on her. Yet faster than she drew her next breath, affection chased away the ugly emotion in his eyes. Even the brightness paled.
“You’re right!” He dropped his hand from around the old man’s throat. The were collapsed on the ground in a helpless heap that looked all loose skin and brittle bones.
Lucas wrapped his arms around her, held her so close that she absorbed his heat. His love.
She put her hand on his chest. His heart thumped against her palm. Tears filled her eyes, remembering that only minutes before, death had taken him, that his heart had stopped.
“You brought me back, didn’t you?” he asked.
“I had to.” Her voice trembled with emotion. “I can’t live without you.”
He kissed her. The words, I love you, were whispered in her hair.
Before she could answer him, he jerked away and gazed upward. His posture changed. The rock-hard tightness in his shoulders accompanied by the bright glow of his eyes said he was prepared for trouble.
She pushed the soft feel of his kiss away and prepared herself to fight beside him. To die for the man she loved.
Chapter Ten
As quick as Lucas’s change came on, it left. He met her gaze, and before he spoke, she’d gotten the scents. Landing beside them were Burnett, Chase, and Della.
“Thank God,” Burnett said then looked at the dead werewolf at his feet and the dead vampire slumped against a tree. Then his tight gaze shifted to the older were still crumpled up in an aged, defeated lump.
“Sabastian Rozo, I assume,” Burnett said.
The old man looked up but didn’t speak.
“How did you know?” Lucas asked.
“Thanks to a few of my were friends, I was able to track down the Council. While they all swore they knew nothing of an attempt on your life, Jeremiah Holmes’ heart told me different.”
“They sent me here so they could kill me?” Lucas asked.
“Those two did. The others admitted to their attempts to break up you and Kylie,” Burnett spoke the words hesitantly, as if knowing Lucas wouldn’t take it well. “The others knew nothing of the attempt on your life. They told me where they had sent you. At the same time, I got the text from Kylie.”
“We came as fast as we could,” Della said. “But looks as if you two had it in the bag.”
“Thank you,” Kylie said to her roommate and then turned her gaze on Burnett and Chase. “Thank you.”
Over Chase’s shoulder, about a hundred feet away, Kylie saw a glimmer of light flickering in and out as if moving between the trees. Her father? She searched her soul and the answer came. It was.
Thank you, Daddy. She spoke from the heart, knowing he could hear her, knowing that if not for him, she’d have lost Lucas.
Lucas moved back to her side, put his arm around her, and spoke directly to Burnett. “She brought me back. I was almost to the Light.”
“That’s Kylie for you,” Della said. “She’ll save any stray dog,” she teased. “Well, this dog is thankful.” Lucas looked right at Kylie.
She leaned against him. “But then you saved me. So I say were even.”
“Sounds fair.” He reached up and stoked her cheek.
“Ugh.” Della said. “They’re gonna get mushy now.”
“Mushy isn’t always a bad thing,” Chase added to the conversation and moved in to drop his arm around her shoulder.
“Are either of you hurt?” Burnett asked.
“Kylie’s magic took care of it.” He looked at her. “But Kylie might be—”
She shook her head. “My throat barely hurts now.”
Lucas still lifted her chin to check. And frowned. “You’re bruised.”
Kylie pushed his hands away. “I’m fine.”
Burnett nodded, but frowned as well. “I’ll call the FRU to take care of these two.” The hard-as-steal on the outside, but soft-as-marshmallows on the inside vamp pointed to the bodies. “And I’ll personally give Mr. Emerson a ride to his new home.” He glared at the old werewolf.
“I did it for my pack,” Sabastian mouthed off.
Burnett focused on Lucas. “You want to make it to the northeast corner that banks up to the lake, and I’ll have someone meet you there to give you a lift home. Then I’ll need to bring you both in for an official interview.”
Lucas nodded. “Can you give us a little time to . . . talk? We’ll call when we are on our way.”
Burnett looked like he was about to say no, but then stopped himself. “Not too long.”
Lucas looked at her. “Walk with me?”
“Forever,” she whispered and laced her fingers with his. After a quick nod goodbye to the others, they started out.
They moved in silence for a while then he stopped. “How did you find me? Burnett said he found out through the Council, but you already knew.”
She squeezed his hand. “Your grandmother and then my dad.”
His eyes widened. “She’s still watching over me?”
Nodding, she saw emotion in his eyes.
“I sometimes think I feel her.”
They started walking again. Lucas, held her hand so
tenderly, she felt his love and sent up thanks again that he was there. Alive.
Once they were completely out of sight of the others, he twirled her around and pulled her in for a kiss. Sweet. Soft. Sexy.
When the kiss ended, he brushed her hair from her cheek. “I love you, Kylie Galen. The thing that went through my mind when I felt myself dying was you. Both when you were in first grade, and now. Please don’t ever question my love for you. Or the fact that you are mine. And I am yours.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “For the things I said. I was just upset.” She pulled him close and kissed him.
When the second kiss ended, he stopped as if to get his bearings.
“What?” she asked.
“I need a favor.”
“Anything.” She ran her palm across his chest, still marveling at the feel of his heart. She looked up. “What do you need?”
“To see if you can heal one of my coyote friends. They fought for me.”
“They were still helping you when I got here. They were standing guard around you.”
“The pack leader took an arrow. His mate is at his side, already mourning him.”
“I know how she feels,” Kylie said. “Let’s see if I can save him. And save her.” She slipped her hand in to his.
Lucas led her to a spot where the brush was more tall grass and fewer thorns. They only walked a short way before she spotted the animal, grey and tan and his gray mate resting beside him, licking his leg. The male lifted his head slightly and growled at Kylie.
“She’s a friend.” Lucas knelt beside the animals.
Dropping to her knees, Kylie held her hand out to be properly sniffed. Both coyotes seemed to relax. She studied the injured animal and looked at Lucas. “We’re going to need to pull the arrow out.”
Frowning, he knelt lower and looked the animal in the eyes. “This is gonna hurt, but I swear it’s for your own good.”
The coyote whimpered as if he understood. Lucas then looked at female. She lowered her head as if in agreement.
Amazed at what she was seeing, she asked, “You can communicate with them?”
“Maybe. I guess. It almost seems that way.” He grimaced and then looked back at his injured friend. “Let’s get this over with.”
Lucas put his hand on the creature’s snout and with a move almost faster than she could see, yanked out the arrow. Blood spewed from the wound. The coyote yelped then fell back onto his side to the ground, his breathing labored.
Kylie rested her hands on the animal’s soft fur and felt them heat. Felt the healing warmth flow into the creature. Closing her eyes for one second she gave thanks for her gifts. There had been a time when she saw them all as a curse. Now she knew them for the blessings they were.
She pulled away, and the coyote lifted his snout. He looked at Lucas and Kylie as if confused. Then he bolted to his feet, and he and his mate took off. He was only a few feet away when he stopped and glanced back. His gold eyes stayed on them, and the small dip of his head could be understood as a thank you.
“You’re welcome,” Kylie and Lucas said at the same time.
Lucas glanced at her. A look of guilt filled his dark blue eyes.
“What?” she asked confused.
“I’m so sorry. I was wrong about the Council. I should’ve known better than to question your wisdom.”
“I already forgave you,” she said. “And I’m not always right.”
“Just 90 percent of the time.” He pulled her to him, their sides pressed against each other. He wrapped his arm around her. She buried her head in that spot on his shoulder and remembered Miranda talking about Perry. Kylie supposed Lucas had pillows, too.
“Oh, about that 90 percent, it’s more like 99.” She chuckled.
His laugh, deep and sexy, washed over her like a hug.
His hold on her tightened. “You don’t need to worry. I’m quitting the Council.”
She pulled her head off his shoulder and sat up a little. She didn’t look at him, but at her shoes. “Why?”
“Why? Because you were right. They did all this just to break us up.”
She gazed up at the sky turning an array of colors with the morning sun. Her mind raced for the right thing to say. She found it then and looked at him. “I didn’t fall in love with a quitter.”
He looked baffled. “Kylie, they tried to kill me.”
“Two of them did. And I’m guessing both will be put in prison for it.”
He shook his head as if he didn’t believe he’d heard her right. “They want to rescind the law that allows mixed marriages.”
“That’s why you need to be there.” She bit down on her lip. “Not every day. Not at their whim. But your life quest is to make change happen. You can’t do that if you quit.”
“You’d give them another chance?” he asked.
“No, I’ll give you one. I’ll give you more than one. We’re going to work this out. I know it’s going to be hard, especially when I go away to college. But we can do it.”
He caught her, rolled her onto her back and kissed her. She ran her hand under his shirt and did what she had been wanting to do since the previous night. She dipped her finger into his belly button.
He let out a playful yelp and caught her hand. “What the heck?”
She laughed. He laughed. They lay there on the ground, holding on to each other and watching the sun rise. Only when the sky turned blue did they agree it was time to go. Lucas called to let Burnett know they were heading to pick up spot.
They walked the rest of the way out of woods, two werewolves, hand in hand. Together. The way she knew they’d be forever.
Review
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The Mortician’s Daughter: One Foot in the Grave,
available now for pre-order!
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Excerpt
Keep reading for a sneak peek at the
first book in my new
paranormal young adult series,
The Mortician's Daughter: One Foot in the Grave,
coming in October
and available now for pre-order!
Her dad’s job is with the dead . . . and he’s bringing his work home with him.
Once again, seventeen-year-old Riley Smith is the new kid in school and her dad’s career has her back to being dubbed a freak. Truth is, she’s a much bigger freak than her classmates think. The only company she keeps these days is the dead who follow Dad home from work. She can see them. She can speak to them. And Fate seems to think she can help them solve their last problems so that they can move on to the other side. Which is odd, because with the loss of her mother and her father’s alcoholism, she’s got enough problems of her own.
But nothing could prepare her for the next tormented young spirit who darkens Riley’s door. The young woman’s death wasn’t the accident everyone believes. Soon Riley finds herself face-to-face with the killer and her only protection comes in the form of another spirit, Hayden, a boy her age with a heart-melting smile and understanding eyes that make her feel safe. If she can escape becoming the killer’s next victim, Riley knows she’ll have to help Hayden move on too, but what if she can’t let him go?
Chapter One
Can I go to jail for this?
The question snakes through my mind as I make my way down Dead Oak Street. The sound of my tennis shoes smacking against the cracked sidewalk fills the cold, almost-dark night. I pull my hoodie closer and hold my purse to my side like a weapon.
A full moon makes its appearance early, hanging in the sky that’s still clinging to a spray of gold left over from the sunset. I chose this time purposely, hoping everyone would be in their houses eating di
nner, doing homework . . . not out watching for strangers trying to slip something into their mailbox.
Getting caught isn’t an option. Never mind if it’s illegal—though it shouldn’t be, I’m doing them a favor—it would bring questions down on me that I’m not prepared to answer. That I’ll never be prepared to answer.
I catch an address on the street curb. My heart thumps and vibrates against my breastbone.
Three houses to go.
I keep moving and, staring down, remember the old song lyrics, Step on a crack, break your mother’s back. Since my mom’s dead, I don’t have to worry. But what was the second chorus? Step on a line, break your father’s spine.
Maybe I should avoid lines. Dad has enough crap on his plate. Crap I wish I could help him with, but I don’t have a clue how to do that.
Taking a deep breath, telling myself this favor is almost done, I keep walking toward house number thirteen. Why did it have to be an unlucky number?
Homes on each side of the street line up like dollhouses and seem to be watching me. Some of them are dark, and have almost a menacing look. Others have gold light leaking out of their windows like love lives there. Through one, I see a TV airing the evening news. Through another, I spot a family of four having dinner. I wonder what it would be like to have that. To be part of a family. To be more than just “Dad and me.” The before-mom-died memories are so few, and even those are vague. Considering I was four, I guess I’m lucky I have any at all.
Only one house to go.
I see the house. It’s dark as if no one’s home. The mailbox catches my eye. It’s leaning, looking tired and old. The metal door flap is hanging open.
This might be my lucky day.
I reach into my purse and pull out the envelope.
The tightness in my chest releases. I can do this.
I take the last few steps, avoiding cracks and lines. A dog barks from across the street. The barking rings like a warning, announcing a stranger is present. And I’m the stranger.
