Her Werewolf Hero

by Michele Hauf

  “This is nice. What am I saying? It’s awesome.”

  He lowered over her, pressing the thick rod between them as he kissed her breasts and suckled her nipples. He danced kisses along her scar as well, and it felt as though he were sealing away all the darkness behind the reason for getting that scar in the first place. Sweet. Caring. Right.

  Kizzy closed her eyes and ran her fingers through his soft hair. As decadent as she’d guessed it would be. The sensation of his mouth at her nipple strafed through her system, bringing all systems to ultra-alert. And the added tickle of his beard over her skin sweetened the feeling. Her core hummed and her toes curled. Her scalp prickled at every lash of his tongue over her skin.

  “You do that so well,” she whispered. He sucked a little harder, gently teasing her with his teeth. “Mmm, yes.”

  Wrapping her legs about his hips, she rocked her loins against his, eliciting a throat-deep moan from him at her breasts. He thumbed a nipple and squeezed it, and she responded by pulling his head down to show him she liked it a little rough.

  Rolling her hips, she worked her aching clit up against the hot column that jutted against her folds. Wet and wanting, she slicked against him, and that made him swear against her breast. She liked the rough sound of his desire, of his want, of his failing control.

  The stoic protector was losing himself in her.

  She gripped his penis and squeezed the head of it, noting the thick fold of his foreskin that had slipped down beneath the corona. A few tugs up and down seemed to coax it impossibly harder. Then she pulled her tightly coved fingers the length of him. He was so thick. She pressed him against her clit, slicking it and sliding it lower to tease at her opening.

  “Kizzy...” He pressed his forehead to her shoulder. She’d assumed control of him, and she wasn’t about to renege. “Please.”

  He pushed his cock through her circled fingers and she squeezed firmly, spurring him to push faster. One of his hands made its way down to her clit, and his thumb slicked over that sensitive, wanting part of her.

  “Yes,” she hissed. “Inside me. Now.”

  She guided him inside her while he rubbed and teased and pinched her clitoris. His entry was hot, determined, solid. He burned into her, and she felt him fire through her body. Clinging to his arms, she dug in her nails, and he hissed at that but only increased his speed, thrusting, searing, finding his way into her soul.

  “Kizzy, you are so tight. Good inside you. Have to...come...”

  “Yes,” she gasped because she felt the orgasm building inside her, and if he came then, she would, too. She was on the pill. No worries. Just make it good. So good. And hot. “Faster, Bron.”

  He leaned up on his palms, meeting her gaze. His jaw tight, the ecstatic agony on his face must have matched her own. She pressed a hand against his chest and curled her fingers into the hair. And with one hard, deep thrust, he chuffed out a shout. His body shuddered, his hips trembling against hers. He came hot inside her, and Kizzy closed her eyes as the climax surged through her. Her shoulders pressed into the bed, and she cried out. Above her a magnificent creature shared her joy.

  Chapter 13

  In the morning, Bron rolled over and snuggled up next to the warm, naked body stretched out beside him. Kizzy’s hair spilled over his face, and he inhaled the soft sweetness of it. This wasn’t Vampire Tilda hair. Not by a long shot. Lush and full, it felt like a retreat into a place he’d like to spend a lot of time.

  He didn’t move to tug her closer. It was early. Not five yet. They’d had sex until the sun had set, and then they’d pulled out the cell phones and tried to track Nightcat, to little success. So, more sex it had been. Kizzy had drifted to sleep just before midnight, while he’d lain watching her for a while.

  Now he wanted her to sleep. She’d been through a lot in the past few days.

  As had he. What the hell was he doing? Sleeping with a human? That was okay. The occasional one-night stand with a human woman could be overlooked. Nothing would ever come of it.

  But was this thing with Kizzy nothing? A guy didn’t lie in bed watching the woman he’d just had sex with for no reason. And if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want it to be nothing. Maybe? He shouldn’t have had sex with her.

  No, skip that stupid guilt stuff. Casual sex was not something he beat himself up about. As she’d said, it was something they’d both wanted. People hooked up all the time without picking out wedding stationery and tuxedos. It was a natural urge that he was pleased to have fulfilled with her.

  Pleased? What a way to think about it. It had been hot, sweaty, messy and all kinds of right. And he wouldn’t regret it. Nor would he dwell on what was to come next. He’d let it go. Play it by ear. See where she went with it.

  Yeah, that was the way to do it. Let the woman take the lead. He had enough to worry about with some potential cat-shifting familiar reporting his location to any paranormal who had a Twitter account and urging them to rip out Kizzy’s heart.

  And the soul bringer. How did a soul bringer figure into all this? If gaining the key to Purgatory meant letting out souls to begin some kind of hell on earth, that made little sense to Bron. Hadn’t the soul bringer put them there in the first place?

  He wondered why the director hadn’t gotten back to him regarding the mission. Surely it would be canceled. He’d check his email when he got up.

  But for now, with darkness still filling the window and the compelling warmth of Kizzy seeping into his pores, he was content to kiss her between the shoulder blades and close his eyes as he nestled his cheek against her skin to breathe her in.

  * * *

  Kizzy rolled over into a kiss. She hadn’t planned it, but he was right there, and her lips had simply migrated toward his. It was a slow, lazy kiss that didn’t open their mouths. Bron felt great. Right. Strong and powerful. He moved his hand along her back, urging her to snuggle against his body, and she tangled her legs with his.

  Drawing his fingers down the scar on her chest, he tapped it softly. “You’re perfect.”

  She didn’t know what to do with that compliment, so she went with a sigh and kissed his neck. His erection beat a few taps against her belly, and with a laugh she answered the call and shimmied up to adjust her position and allow him to glide his penis between her legs. He hugged his face against her neck, kissing her as he moved within her, with slow, sure, measured thrusts. She hadn’t been quite wet, but that problem was quickly resolved as he thumbed her nipple, sending a shock wave of erotic energy directly to her core. It was as though he’d lit her on fire, and she would gladly burn them both to oblivion.

  “’Morning,” he muttered and tilted his head to kiss her under the chin.

  “Good morning. Do we have to go out into the world and fight creatures today? Can we just stay here? Doing this. All day?”

  “As my lady desires.”

  And he came quietly, shuddering against her, clutching at her hips, her arms, her hair. And with a kiss to the side of her mouth, he pulled out and rolled to his back. “Gotta brush my teeth so I can kiss you properly,” he said.

  “How about we meet in the shower?”

  “It’s small.”

  “We’ll fit.”

  “Give me a minute first.”

  He dashed off to the bathroom, and with the door closed, she heard him pee. Gliding her hand over the sheet, she mined the remnants of his body heat, then pushed her nose into his pillow and inhaled. God, he smelled good. Wild, even. The shower started, and she got up and tiptoed into the bathroom. Bron was just entering the stall when she noticed his back.

  “OhmyGod.” A swallow choked her, and she slapped a palm over her mouth.

  “What?” He turned under the shower stream, the water soaking his hair over his forehead. He offered a hand to her. “Kizzy?”

  “
Your back. I didn’t notice it last night. Bron?”

  “Ah.” He rubbed a shoulder and tilted it forward, though she couldn’t see what she’d just seen with him facing her. “I told you about the banishment. The scars left behind have worn smooth over the years. Probably why you didn’t feel them.”

  “Turn around.” She joined him under the warm shower stream. “Let me touch you.”

  “I don’t know... It’s nothing, Kizzy. The past.”

  “Please, Bron.” She moved around behind him, and he allowed it, pressing a palm high on the shower wall.

  A lattice of scars covered his upper and lower back. How she’d not noticed last night was beyond her, but then she hadn’t been behind him, only beneath him and on top of him. She dared to touch a thick red line slickened with water. It wasn’t raised, as she’d expect from a scar, and felt rather smooth, though the skin was red and clearly showed trauma.

  “Werewolves heal remarkably quickly. Except wounds poisoned with wolfsbane,” he commented, pressing a hand to the shower wall and bowing his head forward under the stream. “I forget about them most of the time. Until a woman notices them.”

  “So you don’t walk around on beaches with your shirt off?”

  “We haven’t known each other long, but I wager you can guess I’m not much of a beach bum.”

  “I do know that. More of an Indiana Jones kind of wolf. Why the wolfsbane?”

  “To ensure scars. So I will forever wear the mark of a banished wolf.”

  She swallowed hard. Tears mixed with water. He was so unemotional about it. But she imagined he’d had a long time to get over the pain of it. “Do they hurt?”

  “No. Sometimes I’ll stretch my back muscles oddly and feel a twinge. That’s when I remember. And...think about Isabelle.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She wrapped her arms about his torso, her fingers gliding over his rigid abs, and hugged her cheek against the awful scars. “I wish I could make it better for you.”

  He chuckled softly. “It was a long time ago, Kizzy.”

  “But you still don’t feel as if you’ve been forgiven for what happened.”

  He nodded, and his back muscles flexed against her body. “You hit that one right on the mark.” His words came out softly. He was remembering.

  And she simply held him there beneath the warm shower spray. She was no one to provide forgiveness. A person had to do that for themselves.

  Would she ever allow herself to forgive that night of the accident?

  Bron’s hand slid up and traced her scar. “I wish I could smooth this for you, but I suspect you would not be the same woman you are today if you had not gotten it. And that woman is amazing.”

  And that observation made her want to forgive, so she could be that person he suspected she was.

  * * *

  It was well after noon when Bron suggested they find a place to eat because they could not survive on sex alone. Kizzy was inclined to agree, though she bet she could last until nightfall, fueled exclusively by sex. Every muscle in her body felt deliciously achy, and her limbs were stretched and well worked.

  Pulling on a pair of jeans and the Game of Thrones T-shirt, she watched as Bron drew up his pants, adjusting his semi-hard erection to the left. He cast a wink over his shoulder at her. “What?”

  “You’re cute,” she said. “A sexy wolf of a guy. But I didn’t hear you howl once when we were having sex.”

  “Didn’t want to wake the neighbors. In a few more nights I’ll howl.”

  “Is that when you said you needed to have sex so you wouldn’t shift into a werewolf?”

  “Yes. I thought I’d have this mission completed and be back home in Germany by then. I own a vast wooded lot close to the French border. Lots of forest in which to wolf out. It’s my go-to place for the full moon.”

  “What will you do if you’re still here on the night of the full moon?”

  “Head for a wooded area. Pray there are no campers.”

  “You wouldn’t attack them?”

  “Kizzy.” He tugged on a short-sleeve gray canvas shirt. “Don’t you know me better by now?”

  “Right. You wouldn’t harm a human. But when you are a werewolf, are you like, in your man’s brain? How does that work? How do you know not to harm someone?”

  “I’m sort of a man/beast in that form. I think as an animal, but I also have thoughts as a man. It’s hard to explain. I can’t really understand human language, but the tone of it comes across to me. Nor can I speak. As a wolf on four legs and scampering about? I’m all animal. If I were around you in that form I’d recognize your scent and that you mean something to me, but that is all. In werewolf form, I’d know you.”

  “I mean something to you?”

  He paused as he was lacing up his boots. “Hmm?”

  “You just said I meant something to you.”

  “I did?”

  She nodded.

  “Yes, well... Yes,” he offered decidedly, “you do.” He pulled on his other boot and laced it up, then grabbed the panama hat and placed it at a smart angle over his brows. Tugging the truck keys from his pocket, he said, “You’ll have to recommend a good place to eat. I’ll bring our stuff out to the truck. We’ll swing by your place after we eat lunch.”

  And he strode out, without another comment about what she meant to him. But he’d admitted it. And that was enough for Kizzy. Because she wanted to mean something to him. Which made her believe she was falling for him. Love? It was a difficult emotion for her to define. She tended to avoid the word simply because people used it so freely.

  Admiration, respect, trust, honor, integrity. Those were the things that attracted her to a man. And Bron possessed them in spades. He was distant yet loving. Focused yet able to confide and expose his darkest secret to her. And if that wasn’t enough, he had sung “Let It Go” to her. She didn’t even know what to do with that one. It was a good thing, no matter.

  The scars on his back had faded over the centuries, but to know that he had suffered hurt her heart. It was a suffering he had brought upon himself, but no man should have to find his daughter dead. No matter what he had done.

  The man held much guilt for that. She could relate. He had been broken and scarred, as had she. And she wasn’t sure she could fix either of them. Well, she didn’t want to fix Bron. He had to do that for himself. She just wanted to be a part of him.

  “Kizzy?”

  “I’m coming!”

  She picked up her camera bag and her makeshift suitcase/Walmart bag and recalled his warning that she must erase the photos she’d taken of him in werewolf shape. She would. But perhaps she’d send copies to her computer first. It would be insane to toss such amazing evidence. He wouldn’t have to know. And no one else would either. The photographic evidence of a werewolf would be her secret.

  Chapter 14

  After lunch at the local Chinese buffet, Bron parked the truck before Kizzy’s building in the center of town. He stared up the side of the three-story structure, which boasted a café on the main level, a craft shop on the second and apartments on the top. The brick front was laced with a climbing vine that had turned crimson with autumn. A clatter of bikes were chained up to the street pole.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. You haven’t had anything come after you for a day.”

  “That’s something. I seriously don’t think I can do another cheesy motel room. I’m starting to feel like Sam or Dean.”

  “Why would you feel like a man?”

  “Sam and Dean hunt monsters and stay in cheesy motel rooms.”

  He narrowed a brow. “You know monster hunters? Weren’t you talking about those men earlier?”

  “Probably. They are on a TV show,” she offered with a kiss to his
cheek. “They’ve got nothing on Bron Everhart, the Retriever with the sexy abs and Indiana Jones hat. That’s another movie—”

  “I know. I’ve seen that flick. Preposterous, but good entertainment.”

  “You must get all the entertainment you can handle from your job.”

  “That I do.” He pushed the driver’s side door open and got out. Before closing the door he said, “Stay behind me.”

  When Bron swung around the front of the vehicle, she noticed he carried a bowie knife. Not cool in this small town. But he didn’t swish it in front of him, so she’d give him the benefit of his cool, calm discretion.

  Kizzy felt like the curious heroine following the intrepid hero into danger as they walked through the doorway and down the long, narrow hallway to the stairway at the back of the building. It was cool in here, thanks to the brick walls. The back door opened to a teeny courtyard, where the landlord, Mrs. Davidson’s hydrangeas still burst with pale violet petals.

  “Top floor?” he asked.

  “Yep. Only apartment up there. Here’s my key.” She handed him the brass key chain, which featured the demonic symbol Sam and Dean both had tattooed on their left shoulders. So she was a fangirl.

  Bron took the stairs two at a time, and she scrambled up after him. She didn’t know what she looked forward to more. An empty apartment so she could relax and change into her own clothes. Or making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Or even taking a shower in a clean, noncheesy bathroom. But dare she risk any of that? If nothing waited for her in the apartment, that didn’t mean something might not eventually show up. With claws.

  Bron stuck the key in the lock and opened it. He gestured for her silence and to stay by the door, with a finger to his lips while he walked in and checked the place out.

  Feeling nervous standing alone by the door, Kizzy crept in until she stood in the living room that featured windows all along the front wall and which looked over the newspaper office that sat below and across the street. Nothing seemed out of place. The rental wasn’t accented with knickknacks or a lot of decorative items. Dishware was minimal, set in the open cupboards. Though the landlord had prettied up the place with a spider plant hung between the two front windows. It was frothy and thick and must have weighed thirty pounds. As per instructions, Kizzy had dutifully watered it upon arrival.