by Michele Hauf
“Usually the packs grab a vamp off the street. I don’t know what the hell your boyfriend was coughing up. Or what a wolf could have done to him to make that happen.”
She nodded. “I have a friend who will let me stay with her. Thank you.”
“You shouldn’t thank us for what happened here.”
Her eyes wandered to the stake sitting on the pile of ash. “I couldn’t have done it alone. I wish he could have been more help to you.”
“We’ll find the pack or denizen responsible for his death. I promise you that.”
Leaving her at the door, Kir joined Jacques in the car.
“Let’s hope it is demons,” Jacques said. “We have enough on our plate already.”
“I promised her we’d help her. No matter what.”
“Ah, man.”
“She’s a woman. Alone. Who lost her boyfriend.”
“She’s also a vamp, and it’s not clear wolves were responsible for that vamp’s death.”
“I’m won’t let her down.”
Jacques sighed and shifted into gear. “You and your damned sense of honor.”
Damned or not, if it wasn’t a pack, and they weren’t required to bother with this crime, Kir wanted to stand true to his word. Because he couldn’t stand back and allow anyone, even a vamp, to die for reasons unknown.
Chapter 6
The faery had never been shopping before. Bea had told Kir that in Faery she could pull on a glamour to change her clothing and look, but since arriving in the mortal realm her glamour was weak and it was a no-go for clothing changes. So when she strode into the high-end clothing shop on the rue Royale, her squeal might have been heard by dogs.
As well as by wolves.
And Kir liked the sound of her joy. It went a long way in erasing the lump that sat in the pit of his stomach after the call to the vampiress’s house this afternoon. He never liked to destroy another living being or witness it. Since he wasn’t able to get in to see the doctor he’d contacted until tomorrow morning, he decided putting some clothes on his wife would relax him after a long workday.
A salesgirl with brilliant red lips to match her nails led Kir and Bea into the back area of the shop that was more private than the sales floor. He sat on the designated “boyfriend couch,” which was shaped like a huge pair of red lips, sipping champagne and refusing the chocolates offered by the cooing salesgirls while he waited for his wife to slip into the first outfit the staff deemed fitting for her.
The dressing room door opened and out wobbled a faery in a white sheath that hugged her petite figure yet went all the way up to her neck. Pink high heels, higher than the Eiffel Tower, hampered her walk as she clung to the wall and tried to stand upright and maintain a modicum of dignity.
“High heels are new to me,” she said. “Who’d have thought, eh? So is lace. There’s so...much of it. I don’t think white is my color.”
“Nope,” Kir said.
Bea’s lips dropped into a sad moue.
“I won’t lie,” he offered. “It’s too much,” he said to the saleswoman. “She’s brighter and more fun. And sexy.”
“And maybe not so tall?” Bea said as she wobbled behind the saleswoman back into the fitting room.
The next outfit was introduced with a jump as Bea landed expertly on heels half as high as the previous ones. She wore black suede thigh-high boots that were laced with white ribbons from thigh to ankle. The skimpy black dress was cut out at the torso to reveal both hips, and the neckline exposed her breasts nearly to the nipples.
“Now, this is me,” she said, sashaying before Kir. She bent over and flashed him a view up under her skirt. Hot-pink panties. “You like?”
Kir croaked, then he checked himself and sat up straighter, catching the saleswoman’s knowing smirk. “Uh-huh, that one’s good. Shows off your...fun. Right, your fun stuff.” He cleared his throat. “But you need more than one outfit. You can’t wear that all the time.”
“I’ll mostly be wearing nothing around the house, but if you insist...” Bea twirled into the dressing room and called for more, more and more.
Wearing nothing at all around the house? Kir could handle that. He’d probably have to put up curtains, though, since the neighbors’ yards hugged his closely. He didn’t want to risk anyone catching a glimpse of his naked and winged wife. He worked hard to maintain his secrecy among the humans. If they were to learn his true nature, it could affect not only him but the whole pack.
But he suspected Bea was going to be one hot little number to keep under control. Yet, if he could appease her with clothing and jewelry, he didn’t mind doing so. The joy and the utter delight she displayed at receiving such things went a long way toward securing his comfort with her.
Maybe this marriage thing wouldn’t be so awful. His new wife appealed to his lust. He wouldn’t mind having sex with her daily, if she was on board with that. The fangs were an issue, but he’d keep her in line. And he didn’t feel a hunger for blood, so he was crossing his fingers the doctor said he was in the clear. And she was self-sufficient, taking care of herself while he worked. So far, this marriage was a win-win situation.
Next up: a pink dress. It was made out of high-gloss latex that hugged her body and pushed up her small breasts nicely. Black thigh-high stockings that sported matching pink bows at the tops ended in pink heels as glossy as the dress. Kir gave the look two thumbs-up.
A punky black number with a big white cross slashed across the shirt that stopped just below her breasts was paired with tight red jeans that sported black zippers down the sides. Black sandals that exposed her delicately marked feet? Yes, please.
Bea danced out of the dressing room wearing a long sheer black dress that had patches of flowers embroidered here and there. The embroidery covered nipples and her crotch—and nothing else. She wore a black fedora pulled down over her eyes. Her hips shimmied seductively, having mastered control of the high, black heels. He could see almost everything beneath the dress, and what he couldn’t see he could imagine running his tongue over and tasting until she came in shouts of pleasure.
And faery dust. He absently brushed his fingers over a temple.
“My favorite,” he offered, setting the champagne goblet aside and focusing on the sashaying faery.
“You want me, werewolf?” she teased, dashing out her tongue and tipping up the brim of the hat with one finger. A nod of her head toward the dressing room spoke louder than any audible invite. “I sent the sales chick away for a bit.”
Kir lifted a brow. Here in the store? He had no argument with that; nor did his erection, which had sat up to take notice.
Standing, he tossed Bea over his shoulder and strode into the dressing room, closing the door behind them. The floor was scattered with dresses and various pieces of colorful clothing. Shoes toppled here and there. He stepped on a long heel and wobbled but landed an arm against the wall, pinning Bea’s back against the floor-to-ceiling mirror.
Pink eyes danced with his. He could feel her smile moving over his skin and teasing at his desires. He shimmied the long skirt up around her thighs as he dived against her neck to kiss up under her chin. She smelled like the perfume she’d been doused with upon entering the store. Chemical but a little spicy. He preferred her natural candy scent.
Grinding his hips against her mons, he milked a wanting moan from her. Her fingernails dug in at his shoulders. Yeah, he liked it rough. Kir growled and bit at the fabric over her breast. No time for complete undressing. He wanted inside Bea now.
Fortunately, the pink panties were history. With a flick of her fingers, she unbuttoned his leather pants and drew down the zip. He shuffled them down to his knees. Bea wrapped her legs about his hips and coaxed him closer.
As he glided inside of her, his wife said, “Oh, yeah, that’s the sweet spot, big boy. You’re so thick. You really want this, don’t you? Yes!”
He pumped inside her twice before he came in a shuddering, thundering orgasm. But he never forgot
about the woman. Thumbing her clit as he came gave her a rousing cry of release only moments after his.
“I love shopping,” Bea said as she wilted against his chest, panting.
“Hell of a lot more interesting than I’d expected it to be.” Who the hell cared that Bea had been loud and the whole store might have heard?
“Whew! We’re going to have to buy this dress now that it’s gotten a workout.”
“I have no problem with that at all. You think you got enough for a while?”
“Enough? Hardly...” She glided her hand down to her breasts and fluttered her lashes at him. “Oh! You mean clothes, not sex. I’m good. But let’s hit the jewelry store next. I need some sparkly things.”
Kir laughed against her hair as he felt his erection soften while still sheathed within her. She was already at the next store, and he was just getting his breath back. The woman liked sex. But maybe it was like candy to her. She wanted more and more and could eat it or not, but never refused a treat if offered.
Pulling out and zipping up, he stepped back as she tugged down the dress skirt and sorted through the shoes on the floor. He ran his fingers through her hair lightly; she didn’t notice the touch.
“You know what you want?” he asked.
She popped upright, her pink eyes flashing on him like some kind of Christmas lights inviting him closer for a present.
“I mean with the clothes,” he said. Stroking a hand down his chest, he took some pride in the fact that she wanted him. But upon inspecting his hand, he noted the faery dust.
“Everything,” she said, nodding, hands on her hips. “Absolutely everything.”
* * *
Bea sat on the king-size bed surrounded by clothing, jewels and shoes. She’d never thought personal items could mean so much, but these frilled, glossy and sparkling bits of pretty were all hers. No one could take them away.
She pulled the T-shirt with the rhinestone skull emblazoned on the front over her head. Who would have thought mortal fabrics could feel so sensual against the skin? The pink panties with the bright purple bows at each hip were more decorative than to actually cover anything. Didn’t matter. She wore them because they were pretty. And the blue high heels with the red soles were her favorite.
Or maybe the chrome heels with the spikes on the toes.
No. She grabbed the green sandals with the gossamer laces that wrapped up her ankle and put on one of those. Kicking out her feet, one still wearing the blue shoe, the other in the lace-up sandal, she squealed.
“I take it you are pleased,” Kir said as he landed on the top of the stairs that opened into the attic bedroom. He strode over. “I ordered in some food. I’m starving.”
“Me, too. And, yes, I am pleased with all my goodies. You like?”
“The whole look?” His eyes danced over her attire: skull shirt, pink panties and mismatched shoes. “I don’t think you should be caught on the streets in that getup, but it works for me.”
“I bet I know which part of this outfit you like the best.” Bea rolled onto her palms and knees and wiggled her derriere at him.
The wolf lost his footing against the mirror and had to catch himself in an awkward save.
“I don’t understand why mortals like to wear a string between their butt cheeks, though. It’s uncomfortable.” She tugged off the panties and flung them toward Kir.
He caught them and crushed the pink fabric in a fist. “So, that’s what it takes to make you happy? Pretty shoes and sparkling jewels?”
She dangled a fine silver chain before her, deciding she could weave that into her hair later. “Mostly. Though I have to be careful with mortal metals like this. Can’t wear it for too long without getting a rash.”
“You’re easy.” He crossed his arms and brought the panties to his nose. “Mmm...”
“I know what it takes to make my wolfie husband happy, too.”
He looked at the panties, as if realizing what he’d been doing, then shoved them in his pants pocket. “There is that. But isn’t there anything else?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like something you want to do. To aspire to? What would make you happy beyond the material things?”
“Wow. Heavy conversation much?”
He shrugged and sat on the corner of the bed and toyed with a tuft of purple fringe on one of the dresses. “I have my work, and that, to me, is satisfying. You’re new to the mortal realm and have much to learn and discover, but I have to wonder if there wasn’t something you used to do in Faery, or dream about, that you still aspire to?”
“Huh.” Leaning forward to toy with the glossy leather toe of the blue shoe, Bea mulled over how keen the wolf was to learn about her. And here she’d thought him only capable of sex and howling. Not that either were offensive...
Could she tell him? She didn’t trust him yet. They’d known each other only a few days. But he was her one friend here in this strange and wondrous realm. And he was much nicer than she’d initially thought him to be—though, in principle, she still hated him. “I do aspire to something.”
“Great. Tell me?”
“You first. Tell me about this job of yours.”
“What do you want to know?”
“What do you do? I mean, I always thought wolves ran in packs and that was their family, and...well, what else is there to do?”
“In the mortal realm we need to hold jobs to make money so we can survive.”
“Sounds tedious.”
“I suppose being royalty you’re not familiar with the concept of work.”
“Nope. Should I be?”
He chuckled and that sexy crinkle at the corner of his eyes drew Bea’s attention like an arrow to a target. She’d kiss him there if he were a little closer.
“You don’t have to work, Bea. I’ll take care of you. That was an implied promise I made with our marriage vows.” He studied his hand, the one with the bonding mark that faintly showed against his lightly tanned skin. “Pack Valoir was chosen by the Council to be enforcers a couple years ago. The Council is a sort of governing body made up from all paranormal breeds. So my job description is an enforcer.”
“So that’s what, like, wolf cops?”
“Sort of. Like I said before, we police the packs in Paris and the surrounding area. Mainly we focus on controlling the blood games, trying to keep them minimal. I’d love to stop them completely, but that’ll never happen.”
“Is that where the wolves pit vampires against one another to the death?” she asked eagerly.
“Yes.” He narrowed a brow on her. “I’m sensing far too much curiosity in your tone. Don’t tell me you’d actually watch such a match.”
“Uh...” Apparently, a bloody good match did not appeal to her new husband. It had been a great way to pass the time in Faery, watching the trolls beat the rock-shifters to a dusty pulp. “No. ’Course not.”
She’d best not tell him about the kelpie matches that had entertained the court on many occasions. She had made a pretty mint betting on those fights. She did have her talents.
“Bloody fights? Ugh.” She screwed her mouth into a distasteful moue. “That’s nasty stuff.”
“It is. As well, we keep an eye on all irregular activity among the local packs. I’ve a new case that landed on my desk. It’s a strange one. Vamps who have escaped from the packs’ clutches are dying. In strange ways. Lots of investigating in the coming days, I’m sure.”
“Sounds boring. Except the part where you might have to break up a fight.”
“Admit it. You love a good fight.”
“For the right reasons.”
“When is fighting ever for a good reason?”
“When it’s to protect yourself from the stupidity of others,” she said without thinking. “Just because a person is different doesn’t mean it’s okay to beat on them.”
Kir tilted such a concerned gaze on her that Bea had to think about what she’d just said. Oops. That had revealed a little more than
she’d intended. She didn’t trust him that much. Time to redirect this conversation.
“So let me guess, you must have some kind of record book on all the wolves, eh? A means to find out information about them?”
“We do, but it’s not a book. Our files are digital. The database is vast and covers other species, as well. We recently managed to tap into the Order of the Stake’s computer database and downloaded their files before they could put up a firewall.”
“Everything you said sounded like gobbledygook to me. And I tend to like gobbledygook. So long as it’s warm.”
Kir stood and paced to the triangular window sized as large as the wall that looked out over the front yard and the street below.
“Let’s just say we can look up info on pretty much any paranormal species within Europe and the outlying countries. Comes in handy when we need to crack a case.”
“So, do you list faeries in that database?”
“No.” He returned to the bed and sat beside her. Brushing the hair from her face, he lingered with the tip of his finger on her ear-point. “Your realm is like another planet to us who live in the mortal realm.”
“Yeah, well, this realm is more than kooky. I mean, mortals walk around with dogs on leashes. How cruel is that? And cars.” She shuddered. “So much iron.”
“Why all the questions about the database?”
“I, uh...” She toyed with the green sandal strap.
Dare she tell him? If she didn’t, she had no clue where to begin her search in this big, vast city. A city that may not even be the correct starting place for her search. How to know where to begin?
Going up on her knees before him, Bea trailed her fingers down the front of his leather vest, landing at his hip, where a tuft of her pink panty stuck out from the pants pocket. “There is something I want, beyond all these pretty material things you’ve given me.”
“Tell me. I’d like to know what would make you happy.”
She believed that he did, too. The wolf was kind. He had valiantly accepted the challenge his pack had asked of him because to refuse would go against some kind of honorable code he obeyed. At least, that’s how she dreamed he was. This knight’s armor was fashioned from leather and truth.
