Venom & Vampires: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by Casey Lane

  Wren stuck his head around the corner. Gen was the fox shifter from the diner so the other must be Hadley. She was a tall, statuesque woman with copper skin, large brown eyes, and a riot of kinky reddish blonde curls that framed her face. She was definitely a witch. There was no mistaking her scent or the power rolling off her, but she had a peaceful energy that put Wren at ease.

  The two women were a study in contrast, from their looks to their style. Gen wore jeans with a hole in the knee and an emerald green t-shirt that hugged her narrow frame and highlighted her pale skin, freckles and ginger hair. Hadley wore a lace dress with an intricate floral pattern, and thin straps that showed off her delicate shoulders and a large tattoo on her upper arm of a broom, a crescent moon, and a black cat. Their scent confirmed they were a couple, the rings on their left hands confirmed they were married.

  “We’re in the kitchen,” Isa called, stealing a slice of the mangled cucumber off the cutting board, before moving to dump egg noodles into the pot of water boiling on the back burner.

  Wren waved at the two women as they entered the kitchen and they both waved back in perfect sync with each other. “Gen, you remember Wren from yesterday? Wren, this is Gen’s wife, Hadley. She’s our healer.”

  Wren smiled. “Nice to see you again, Gen. Nice to meet you, Hadley.”

  Hadley’s hands moved in a gesture that Wren vaguely recognized as a reciprocation of his greeting in sign language. That was why Isa was so confident that Hadley was the witch they were looking for. Hadley was deaf. She talked with her hands. But how would they communicate? Wren understood maybe five signs in sign language, and he doubted Neoma understood any.

  Gen dropped a huge bag on the kitchen table. “Do you guys need any help with anything?”

  Hadley tapped Gen on the forehead and signed something to her before pointing at Wren with an exasperated head shake.

  Gen laughed. “Wren, Hadley reads lips so stop looking so panicked. She can speak, but she thinks her speech isn’t super clear and it makes some people uncomfortable. I can translate for her if I need to.” She looked back to her wife with a tight smile. “Better?”

  Hadley rolled her eyes but nodded.

  “Dinner is almost ready,” Isa said, looking to Wren to confirm he’d finished chopping the vegetables. He dumped the cucumbers into the salad bowl and handed it over dutifully.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, Isa walked to the staircase. “Dinner!”

  Four pairs of feet beat a path down the back stairs, sounding like they had lead weights attached to their feet. Tristin was the first one down. “Finally! It’s been forever since we ate. I’m going to waste away to nothing.”

  Wren couldn’t help but laugh at the girl’s dramatic display. Isa arched a brow, shaking her head, apparently used to the girl’s theatrics. “It’s been three hours since lunch, and you ate five cookies less than an hour ago.”

  Tristin shrugged as if she couldn’t be bogged down with details and hugged Gen and Hadley. “Do we need to set the table?” Tristin asked Isa.

  Isa shook her head. “No, I did it earlier, but thank you for asking.”

  Wren watched as each of the kids took their drinks and headed for the dining room. “Where’s Rhys?” he asked Kai as he passed.

  “I don’t know,” Kai said, heartbeat tripping at the blatant lie. Wren looked to Isa who grimaced but said nothing. Wren closed his eyes, listening for Rhys’s heartbeat. He was in his room. His heart was racing. He was upset about something.

  Gen walked to the stairs. “Rhys McGowan, don’t you dare think you are going to sit in your room and miss dinner with Hadley and me. Let’s go. You can sulk later.”

  Wren looked to Gen, impressed, as Rhys’s door opened and closed. He clomped down the back stairs, hands deep in his jeans pockets, glowering at Wren and Gen as he passed.

  Gen tugged him back to her, pinching his cheeks, “Oh, there’s my happy boy. You can sit right next to me at dinner tonight.” Rhys gave a forceful exhale through his nose like an angry bull but didn’t argue.

  Once in the dining room, Wren had another dilemma…where to sit. Protocol dictated that in formal dining settings, people sat based on their roles in the pack, but Isa had not assigned any official titles to anybody in the pack. If Wren were Isa’s mate, he’d sit to her right, if he were a visiting future alpha he’d sit at the foot of the table, directly across from Isa.

  Isa was clearly not thinking about assigned seating, laughing with Gen as she set the food on the table. But Rhys was. He stood, leaning against the wall, watching Wren intently. When Isa took her seat at the head of the table, she gestured to the empty seat on her left. The chair reserved for the alpha’s left hand. Wren hesitated, and Isa stared at him like he’d grown a second head. Rhys’s sullen expression turned mutinous.

  * * *

  “Rhys can sit there,” Wren suggested, hoping Isa picked up on how important it was to her brother.

  Isa stiffened for only a moment before she seemed to catch herself. “Right, Rhys, come sit here next to me.”

  Rhys sneered at Wren, before dropping into the seat beside his sister. Suddenly, Isa was the one who was nervous, watching Wren to see which chair he chose. It was a good sign. She wasn’t offering the seat to her right, but she didn’t offer the chair across from her either. She was letting Wren decide.

  Wren didn’t hesitate, pulling out the seat across from Rhys. Rhys’s eyes were glassy, his anger palpable. Wren was declaring his intentions towards his sister to anybody who understood shifter politics and Rhys was pissed…but not surprised.

  Gen sat next to Rhys as promised, ribbing the boy any chance she got until she coaxed a smile out of him. Hadley sat next to Wren, across from Gen. Neoma climbed into the seat next to the witch, looking at her shyly as if Hadley might ask her to move. Wren’s heart squeezed when Hadley smiled at Neoma, and Neoma smiled back, delighted. “It’s you,” she whispered to Hadley.

  When the rest of the kids found their seats, the tension seemed to fizzle out, the atmosphere taking on a more pleasant feel, despite the reason for the meeting. Dinner was a loud affair, with everybody talking and laughing. Wren was amazed to see that the kids spoke sign language with ease and, after a few minutes, it wasn’t hard to remember to look directly at Hadley when speaking.

  For the first half of dinner, Gen translated for Hadley but during a particularly heated debate about somebody named Alex and something to do with a coven of teenagers, Hadley began to speak with her mouth as well as her hands and Wren could see why everybody in this room loved the witch. She did smile with her eyes. She laughed often and with her whole body, gesturing emphatically with long slender fingers, as if she were weaving a spell, enchanting the entire room.

  It worked too. Not even Rhys was immune to Hadley’s charms, laughing and joking with the witch, even if he would roll his eyes soon after. Gen stared at her wife with a sort of besotted expression that made Wren smile. Gen reminded him of his sister, Efa, and it made him feel closer to the two women who seemed so close to Isa.

  Neoma sat sideways in her chair, so she could focus on everything Hadley did. When the witch would speak, Neoma would break off whatever conversation she was having with Tristin, Quinn, and Kai and watch the witch with rapt attention. Hadley watched Neoma as well, occasionally giving her an encouraging smile that would cause Neoma to duck her head and blush. Wren reminded Neoma to eat her dinner three times before he finally gave up. She wouldn’t starve.

  * * *

  Before long, the kids were begging to play upstairs, leaving the adults to clear away the dishes and clean up the kitchen. Gen and Hadley helped package the leftovers while Wren put on coffee. He couldn’t remember a time where he’d felt this at home, even in his home. The idea of leaving here, leaving Isa, made his stomach churn.

  When the last dish was in the dishwasher, they all took their coffees and sat at the battered kitchen table. This time, Isa slid into the seat next to Wren, her coffee cup close en
ough that her knuckles brushed his when she reached for it. Just the touch of her fingers against his was making him crazy, and everybody in the room knew it…especially Isa, who gave him wide innocent eyes every time she took a sip of her coffee. Evil woman. He loved it. He was pretty sure he loved her.

  They talked for a bit about the diner and about the clinic Hadley ran in the center of town. She was an actual medical doctor as well as a witch.

  “You went to med school even though your magic gives you the ability to heal? Why?” Wren asked. He’d never heard of such a thing.

  Hadley smiled as if she was used to people asking her that question. “Well, one, I was raised in San Francisco, and while California does have a lot of granola eating hippies, people tend to prefer their medical advice from people who can prove they have actual medical training. Two: there are some things that magic can’t cure, and I wanted to make sure I could help those patients too.”

  Wren nodded. “That’s commendable.”

  Gen shook her head. “Okay, enough small talk. Let’s talk about why we’re really here.”

  Isa squeezed Wren’s hand before looking at Hadley. “What are we looking at with Neoma? Is she spelled?”

  Hadley’s eyes grew serious, and Wren’s stomach dropped. “Oh, yeah. And whoever did it had a lot of juice but not a lot of know how. It’s a mess.”

  Wren tensed, and Isa’s thumb began to stroke across the top of his hand absently. “Can you reverse it?” she asked.

  Hadley looked at Gen and then Isa, her unease radiated off her. She was afraid to tell him something. “Just tell me…whatever it is, please.”

  “She’s glamoured.”

  Wren did his best to keep it together, remembering the damage he’d seen in the mirror. “I know, a witch showed me, but she couldn’t tell me what did it.”

  “That’s because no one thing did it.”

  Wren’s vision went red, his claws extending, fighting his shift until it felt like his skin was coming apart at the seams. “What do you mean?” he asked, voice barely human.

  “I can show you what I mean, but I’m not sure you want to see it again. She doesn’t know it’s there. Right now, she remembers nothing.”

  Isa stood, pressing her hands to Wren’s temples, kissing the top of his head. Wren knew the calm washing over him wasn’t real, was just Isa’s influence, but he took it anyway. He couldn’t afford to go full shift in Isa’s kitchen. When he was more himself, he said, “Then maybe we should just leave it alone.”

  Hadley frowned. “I don’t think that’s an option. Like I said, whoever did the spell to block her memories was powerful but very inexperienced in this type of spell work. She tried to block specific memories while keeping others, but that takes time and delicacy. I’m guessing they didn’t have a lot of time because the spell is already breaking down. My guess is she’s probably already starting to remember bits and pieces. If I guide her through her memories, I might be able to repair the damage as I go.”

  “Repair the damage?”

  “I can’t make her forget the things that happened to her, but I can dull them, accelerate the healing.”

  What happened to her?” Wren asked, voice raw.

  She held out her hands, one to Wren, the other to Isa. “I truly don’t know, but if you open your mind to me, I can show you what I’ve seen. I can try to explain. Try to remember that she’s not in any pain and there’s nothing you can do about any of this now. Okay?”

  Wren closed his eyes but nodded slowly. Hadley grasped their hands. Wren couldn’t help the breath forced from his lungs any more than Isa could help the cry that escaped her lips.

  It wasn’t anything Wren hadn’t seen but somehow seeing it again made it a hundred times worse. This wasn’t just a flash of the pain she’d been through; he could see it all now. The multiple claw marks that marred her inner thighs and upper arms as if somebody had opened her up and let her heal before opening her flesh again. “These marks were inflicted by a wolf over a long period. I believe the puncture wounds were made by a tool or knife of some kind, also over time. But the bite marks, I’ve never seen anything like them. The attack happened all at once. Do you see the way the scars are all the same shade of pink? They were inflicted at the same time, healing at the same time.”

  “Stop!” Wren jerked his hand away as his claws extended and he ripped at his shirt, making for the door.

  “Wren!” Isa cried.

  “Let him go,” He heard Gen say. “Let him run it out.”

  He managed to make it the front porch before he shifted, bounding off the porch on four legs, letting his wolf take control. He needed to stalk, to hunt, to kill. He didn’t care if he was in foreign territory. He didn’t care if there were hunters patrolling the woods. He didn’t care about pack protocols or rules. If anybody came at him tonight, he’d come back at them ten times harder.

  He was the predator; they were the prey.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Isa

  Isa read and reread the same page until her eyes grew bleary. Outside, the rain was once again coming down in sheets, the thunder rattling the window panes like an old horror movie. Wren had come home thirty minutes ago, but he’d gone straight to his room. The shower had kicked on a few moments later. He’d been hunting. She’d caught his scent as he passed her door, the smell of rain and earth…and blood, so much blood. She hoped it had sated some part of him, the part of him that felt guilty, the part of him that needed vengeance.

  After the water turned off, Isa wondered if he’d come to her room again. It was an idea that both thrilled and terrified her. When it came to Wren, she had no clue what she was doing. He’d thrown a wrench into her perfectly ordered existence, and she couldn’t see herself ever going back. She just didn’t know what that meant.

  Isa didn’t have to wonder long. Wren didn’t knock. He just walked in, closing the door and locking it behind him without a word. Isa’s eyes widened, lips parting in surprise. He was so...beautiful. He was shirtless. His loose black sweatpants rode low, drawing Isa’s attention to the deep V of his hipbones and the trail of hair that started just below his belly button and disappeared underneath his waistband. His hair was damp, his feet were bare, and his eyes still glowed ice blue.

  It seemed Isa would meet Wren’s wolf a night early. He prowled closer, nostrils flaring at the scent of her. She couldn’t help her excitement any more than she could stop herself from trembling under the heat of his gaze. No man had ever looked at her that way, focused, hungry, eyes raking her body like a caress. It was Wren, yet it wasn’t. That didn’t stop her from wanting him. Loving Wren meant loving his wolf, just as loving her did. They were one in the same.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “No talking. Not tonight.” His voice was a low growl that tugged at something deep inside her.

  Isa swallowed hard. “Alright.”

  She rose, only to stop short, acutely aware that she wore just a faded gray t-shirt and her gray boy shorts. Wren tracked her movements, watching her with an intensity that had her knees going weak. Clearly, he wasn’t done hunting for the night.

  She stood frozen in place as he strode across the room, sucking in a startled breath as he picked her up and carried her to bed, dropping her on the mattress and following her down, stalking her up the mattress before settling his solid frame between her splayed thighs. He didn’t give her time to think, to process. His mouth claiming hers in an open mouthed kiss she could only define as dirty, his hips rolling against hers, making his intentions clear. She canted her body on instinct, toes curling into the mattress, body throbbing with need. He was already hard. Isa couldn’t ignore the thrill that shot up her spine. She’d done that. He wanted her. God, she wanted him too.

  When he sat back on his heels, she whined at the loss. But he wasn’t done with her. Seeing him kneeling between her open legs was more than Isa could take. She wasn’t sure she was even still breathing. She frowned in confusion as he reached for the
neckline of her ratty t-shirt. She heard the faint snick of his claws and could only watch with rapt fascination as he used one claw to slowly, deliberately, slice her shirt down the middle, parting the two halves like he was unwrapping a present. He snarled, his hands trailing along her thighs, spreading them wider, pressing himself closer. It just wasn’t close enough. She needed more.

  “Wren.” It was only his name but it seemed to shake something loose inside him and he was surging forward, his mouth finding hers again. This kiss was rough, bruising, more a clash of teeth and tongue then a kiss. Isa didn’t mind. Her wolf liked the brutal savagery of Wren’s assault. When his head dipped lower, she cried out, overwhelmed by the weight it all. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. She could only lay there, lips parted and chest heaving as she let him take what he wanted. She just knew that it wouldn’t be enough. She needed more. She needed him to touch her, to fix her, to end this insatiable hunger. What he was doing wasn’t helping this gnawing ache low in her belly. It just made it worse. It made her want more. She wanted to tell him, but whenever she went to speak, the only sounds she could muster were breathy gasps and half bitten moans.

  Her head was spinning as he sucked marks along her shoulder, his hands traveling, exploring her body like he had a claim, like she belonged to him. It was quick and slow in turns. One moment his hands were fevered, like his need to touch, to scent, to mark every inch of her was some compulsion he was helpless to resist. The next, he was mapping every line, every dip of her body with a premeditation that both thrilled and frustrated her. He touched her everywhere. He kissed every part of her like he was worshiping her, from the soles of her feet to the shell of her ear, only stopping to whisper the filthy things he was going to do to her. Isa was so far gone on Wren that she was almost positive that the feel of his knee pressing against her and the husky rasp of his voice would be enough to take her over the edge.