Heart Mates - 2nd Edition

by Mary Hughes

  His aggrieved barking followed her out.

  * * *

  Noah stood at the edge of the broken glass and barked after the stunning but annoying woman Sophia. How dare she leave him?

  He winced at the embarrassing soprano yips that came out of his muzzle.

  Dropping to disgusted haunches he snuffled a breath out. He sucked air in through his nostrils to calm himself, then tried yet again to shift, either human or wolf. He’d been trying all day. It was as effective as it had been the first three hundred and fifty times, which was not at all.

  He’d have thought that, after a whole day as the poofball, he’d have at least gotten used to it. But no. He still went ass over teakettle when he’d tried to catch the woman.

  She had the most amazing eyes. Star-shot blue, like the moon sparkling on a Grecian sea. Strong nose, pure skin, kissable lips—

  His tail bone vibrated. His hindquarters popped up at the buzz, the startled reaction of his inner…well, not wolf in this form, but his inner canine. His human mind knew it was his cell phone, probably his lieutenant Mason calling again, slightly fewer times than Noah’d tried to shift.

  Normally, Noah could shift whenever he wanted. Day or night, and any time of the month, though the full moon made it easier. His grandpa had explained that it was because they were magical werewolves. Clothes shifted in with them when their wolf came out, including whatever mechanicals they were carrying.

  Which meant right now the phone was a giant internal joy buzzer. Noah could’ve spent a few minutes nudging it out, but why? It wasn’t like he had hands or a voice to answer the call.

  He trotted around to shake the buzz off, nearly planting his face on the floor because of his stubby little legs. Nearly two hundred pounds of human, and two hundred pounds of wolf, Noah was finding fifteen pounds of terrier unbelievably hard to work with.

  Cursed by a witch. Bad enough. But he had to be cursed by a witch with a lousy aim and a wicked sense of humor.

  Then the beautiful Sophia had shown up. His tongue lolled out and he panted at the memory. Amazing eyes and lips as sweet as ripe cherries…he shook himself.

  The witch’s niece had shown up. Never trust a witch.

  Although, just because Sophia’s aunt was a witch didn’t mean Sophia was one. He didn’t know about witch breeding like he knew about shifters, but he knew enough to guess the gene for doing magic wasn’t dominant, unlike the gene for being magic.

  Sophia certainly had been chatty. He wondered if she would have been as chatty with the man Noah as she had been with the dog King. Probably not. The thought rather wounded him.

  The last of the sun disappeared.

  Mist fogged his brain. Needles stabbed his legs. He stumbled and fell sprawling to the floor.

  He came to…human.

  And naked.

  * * *

  Sophia considered taking her car to Mason’s, but it had barely gotten her here, and she didn’t want to push her luck. Matinsfield wasn’t that big, a rubber band of a town stretched along Main, so it was no big deal to walk.

  Her power walk—her natural pace, not running from scary hooded guys at all—propelled her along the street. Streetlights stuttered on, jarring her already tender nerves. Dark, empty storefronts didn’t help. It saddened her that there were so many. Aunt Linda had said the town wasn’t doing so well, but she’d never dreamed it was this bad.

  A few places were open. Her step lightened passing the new FreshFresh submarine sandwich shop. Only three thousand people, but Matinsfield had three of the chain sub stores, a retail peculiarity that seemed to work despite itself.

  Like a witch attracted to an alpha…?

  Nope. I’m not going there. “Keep your ass unsmited, Sophia.”

  Turning north on Pine, Blackwood Small Engine Repair was the last building before the town ran out. She’d expected a rickety shack and cracked blacktop so was surprised by a sweeping skirt of neat red pavers around a large cinder block building. Despite the local economy, the store was obviously doing well.

  She’d also expected lawn mowers and snow blowers, and while there were some of those, the biggest window was filled with motorcycles.

  Leaning her palms against the glass, she stared in awe at cruisers, sportsters, and off-road bikes, all lovingly displayed.

  Inside, cool air caressed her cheeks. She ran a finger along buttery leather jackets and sleek carbon fiber bikes, everything she could want for her riding pleasure, including some bitchin’ helmets.

  But she was here for Mason. She walked through the store, searching for him. A quick survey showed her the store was empty, but a single door across from the main entrance flashed with light.

  * * *

  “Damn my aching paws.” Noah raised his head and shook it, reassured when hair flopped around his skull instead of doggie ears. “About time the witch’s hex wore off.”

  His wolf prodded him to leap up and run after the gorgeous Sophia…run to Mason’s, that was. He resisted his beast with a willpower born of lifelong practice. He’d gotten to be alpha at the impossibly tender age of twenty-nine through brains, speed, brains, strength—and brains. Checking his surroundings with eye and ear and most importantly nose, he sensed no immediate danger. Well, if you didn’t count the fat cat in the kitchen.

  If it was possible to be fatally annoying, Mr. Snippy Kibbles had a lock.

  Noah climbed to his bare feet. He flexed his fingers then stretched all his muscles, his body cramped from wearing the small dog all day. And though he usually shifted forms smoothly and easily, that transformation had hurt.

  He checked rapidly that all parts of him were present and in working order, including his package, the one Sophia had called impressive…that made him preen…damn it, he was a deadly wolf and deadly wolves did not preen.

  His clothes lay in a heap next to him. He cautiously prodded them. Usually anything he wore on his human body stayed on, and shifting back naked made him uneasy. But the clothes seemed normal.

  Must’ve been the hex. Dressing, he pulled his cell phone from the jeans’ pocket. His lieutenant had called only a dozen times, not the five hundred it seemed. No message. Mason was as cautious as Noah.

  Noah rapidly considered his options. Go to Sophia… He clamped his eyes shut. No. Debrief with Mason. Then go to Sophia… Fine. She was the witch’s niece, and he owed the witch money for damages to her store.

  It had absolutely nothing to do with Sophia’s pure, kissable mouth, the sexy sway of her hips… “Bite me.” His eyes flew open, and he jabbed Mason’s speed dial.

  He was in the process of giving Mason a flash update when his lieutenant interrupted with news that a gorgeous woman had just come into the garage.

  Sophia had arrived. Noah clipped a goodbye, rushed out the door, shifted to wolf, and bounded off into the night.

  * * *

  Sophia pushed open the door into a garage.

  Oil and metal stung her nose. Darkness surrounded her, broken only by a bright light filtering from her left through a couple sets of tall shelves. A kerchunk of tools came from where the light was. To her right were outer doors, garage and people.

  She moved forward. The tall shelves broke the floor into six bays, three on each side. Straight ahead, leaning nonchalantly on its stand like a gal’s wet dream, was the sweetest-looking motorcycle she’d ever seen.

  She floated nearer. Ducati graced the gas tank. A hole marred the frame. Engine parts littered a worktable that, swept together, might fit the hole.

  It was a measure of Sophia’s love for her aunt that she moved away from that motorcycle. And the fact that maybe Noah was here. Her heart beat faster at the thought.

  She followed the clangs to the last bay.

  Working under the shop light was a tall, heavily muscled man wearing jeans, grease, and not much else. He applied a wrench to a big cruiser, his back to her. She was still half the floor away when he spun.

  Power-filled eyes startled her. Chocolate irises, ring
ed in unusual, rich copper, said here was a strong magical being. A beta at least. No wedding ring.

  He wasn’t single because of his looks. Those eyes were made for low bedroom light. His shaggy brown hair was streaked with gold. Combined with the heavy muscle on his big frame, his chiseled lips, and his square jaw, he was one appealing wolf.

  “Who are you?” He growled it.

  Okay, that wasn’t so appealing. Shifters. The animal within always snarled through. “I’m Sophia Blue—Linda’s my aunt. We spoke on the phone. You’re Mason, I take it?”

  His stance relaxed, and he set aside the wrench, grabbed a couple of wipes from a pop-up container, and cleaned his hands. “You’re here about Noah?”

  “Yes.” Sophia kept her own body relaxed and her gaze steady and slightly averted. No sense antagonizing the wolf in Mason. Thank you, Arcane Animal Husbandry 102. “My aunt is missing, and Noah was probably the last person to see her. I thought we could try to find him.”

  “I know where Noah is, now.” Mason’s growl was back. “So do you.”

  “Me? I don’t know where he is. How could I?” Yet even as Sophia spoke, a snarl of awareness seized her.

  Mason said, “He phoned just a minute ago. Said you named him Kin—”

  “—someone to help,” a bass voice thrummed from the dark depths of the garage.

  Sophia spun. That masculine voice, vibrating with power, plucked a long string of throbbing need deep inside her.

  A tall, broad-shouldered figure emerged from the blackness, gliding into the sharp white light with a smooth prowl that was all muscular grace, extraordinary strength, and endurance.

  Her entire belly turned inside out at the sight of the man.

  Powerful frame. A fall of black hair over a high, regal brow. A face that was all dangerous planes. Eyes that gleamed with intelligence. He was total alpha—dominant, deadly, and sexy as hell.

  Her own eyes widened, her jaw dropped, and her heart knocked “Some Enchanted Evening” against her ribs—before her hormones exploded. Not really, but the man gave her a full-body rush.

  He stopped a few feet from her, standing with breathtaking stillness.

  Werewolves were usually ruled by their aggression, so the man’s cool composure was even more striking.

  Definitely a were, though. His honed jaw was textured with the rough, black morning-after-sex stubble all male wolf shifters seemed to have.

  Her body splashed with a hot me want of desire.

  Then their eyes met.

  Power shows in the eyes. This man had power, and to spare. Irises of pure silver stunned her even as his pupils opened to her like velvety black pools. She fell in and happily drowned.

  “Noah, finally.” Mason’s voice came from behind her. “I found Marlowe, but he’d already gotten rid of the…” He cleared his throat. “The thing. I read the kid the riot act, made him do some work around here, and sent him home.”

  “Good.” Noah’s answer was for Mason but his gaze was still locked on her. He took a step nearer, his eyes flashing. “You’re Linda’s niece.”

  “Yes.” Nervously, she fingered her pearls. Sucking in a breath to steady herself, she got a lungful of hot male and nearly imploded when her body zinged like every cell was shouting alleluia.

  Shifter, she scolded herself. Worse, he was pack alpha, bound to be mated. An ex-witch slavering after a mated alpha?

  Smiting was happening for sure.

  He glided another step closer, his muscles sliding easily under his skin and clothes. Raising his hand, he caught her fumbling fingers and stilled them.

  The warm pads of his fingers, pressed against her skin, were stunningly sensual. Her belly stirred with hot response, her breasts tightened in excitement, and her lips fell open because she was having trouble breathing. Her brain had turned to mush, though, because she started wondering how bad a little smiting might be.

  He lifted her hand from her pearls and brought it to his nose. Finally those remarkable eyes closed as he inhaled. A tiny, appreciative smile curved his lips, as if he were enjoying the bouquet of a fine wine.

  “You smell amazing.” His voice rippled with a low, sensual growl.

  A groan bubbled up in her throat.

  When his lids lifted, his gaze had gentled. The wolf within was very strong, but the man controlled it utterly.

  Her groan emerged as a whispered whimper.

  A half step closer, him or her, she wasn’t sure who. Their auras kissed.

  Pure male heat rolled over her skin, edged with a virile, wild magic. Shivers ran with abandon over her flesh as a tremor hit her low in the belly.

  If she leaned in a fraction of an inch, she’d touch him, skin-to-skin…she swallowed hard. As much power as she felt rolling off him, touching would close an electrical circuit, and she’d be the one fried. “Look, I’m trying to find my Aunt Linda.”

  His gaze dropped to her mouth as she spoke. “She owns the bookstore.”

  “Yes.” Under that silvery gaze, her lips felt too full, throbbing. The word was hard to form. She licked her lips.

  His pupils dilated until his eyes were pure black, riveted to her mouth. “You’re the gor—the woman in the picture.”

  What had he been about to say? Gorilla? Gourmand? Gorgeous? “What picture?”

  “Your aunt has a photograph of you.” He released her hand to slide a finger under her chin.

  All her breath expelled from her lungs. Without oxygen, she let him tilt her face to one side, then the other. The throbbing in her lips intensified.

  The matching throbbing in her groin was almost painful.

  His lids lowered, lazy with promise. “Your nose is longer than I expected.”

  Just what a woman wanted to hear. “Thanks?”

  “It’s a good nose. Honest. Elegant. I like it.”

  Instantly the throbbing was back, but she pushed it away, mirrored it by stepping back. “An honest, elegant snout is still a snout.”

  He followed her. “Your nose is unique, like your scent. Exotic. Deeply enticing. I want to kiss you.”

  He was right on top of her, sending frissons of energy through her. Staring up into his eyes, half-shuttered by passion-heavy lids, she managed a rasped, “Um, that’s not a good idea.”

  “I misspoke. I don’t want to kiss you.” He took her face in both big, hot hands.

  “I need to.”

  Chapter Four

  I need to kiss you, too, Sophia thought, dazed. Wolf, witch, forbidden. Yet she needed to fuse her lips to Noah’s with an urgency that bordered on insanity.

  She dug for the last of her self-preservation and parted her lips to say something, anything, to avoid smiting.

  Which only made it easier for his mouth to claim hers.

  He pressed his open mouth to her parted lips, his tongue slipping into the gap like hot silk. He teased at the sensitive flesh of her lips until, with a groan, she opened wider.

  At the invitation, his tongue speared into her mouth like a blazing flame.

  Desire curled deep in her pelvis. He tasted male. Exciting. A man, but his wolf was strong in him, his kiss full of dark and wild magic. She groaned again. His matching groan was more a growl.

  Heart thundering in her ears, she lifted on her toes for more.

  His kiss slanted and deepened, the wild taking of the wolf—but also the mastery of the man. A man who knew how to give a woman what she wanted. What she needed.

  She opened wide to his plunging tongue. In response, his fingers threaded through her hair, pulling her closer. Their bodies melded like two hot candles.

  Mason cleared his throat.

  She groaned at the interruption.

  Noah lifted his head with a soft sigh.

  Without the liquid caress of Noah’s hot, expert mouth, the moment was broken. Sophia’s sanity returned. What have I done? Witch and shifter…no, not, never. She gathered enough tattered willpower to step out of his arms.

  “I’m sorry…” Her voice was bre
athy. Damn, she’d revved up fast in the wolf’s embrace. She tried again. “I’m sorry that happened.”

  “Why?” He stepped back too with crossed arms, his biceps and pecs bulging. “I’m not.”

  At the sight of all that male strength, she swallowed her tongue, totally forgetting why she should be sorry. Oh yeah, shifter/witch taboo—but he wouldn’t know she was a witch. And even if he did, he wouldn’t care. Most shifters pretended the Witches’ Council didn’t exist.

  “Hey,” Mason said. “I didn’t want you two to stop. I just wanted to let you know that if you’re going to get friendly—” Mason’s grin was so big Sophia wanted to punch him, “—I’m heading out now. There’s a couch in the office. Lock up when you’re done.” He lumbered off.

  “Stars,” she said. “What was that all about?”

  “He’s encouraging me to find a wife.” Noah grimaced.

  Noah wasn’t mated. Yes. No. None of her business.

  But poor Noah. He had his own Aunt Linda, nagging for the pitter-patter of little paws.

  He thrust his hands in his pockets, incidentally framing all that was glorious. With the confident way he stood there, bigger and badder than anything, it was hard to feel too sorry.

  He nodded after Mason. “I should go, too.”

  “Wait. Before you do…I came here because I wanted to talk with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Um, well, the reason I wanted to talk with you is…” What had she wanted to ask? Are you dating? What’s your phone number? What size condom do you wear? She rubbed her eyes. “My aunt Linda.” She dropped her hand and met his silver gaze. “I think you were the last person to see her at the bookstore. Do you know where she went?”

  “I’m sorry, no. She left before I did, but she didn’t share her plans with me.”

  Disappointment gnawed Sophia’s gut. “Can you at least tell me if she was okay?”

  “Yes.” His response was immediate and reassuring. “Don’t worry about your aunt. She was fine. A little flustered, but fine.”