Lover's Soul: Werewolf Sexy Romance (Biwole Wolves Book 2)

by JP Vasha

  That couldn't be right. But I do need him! I'm not perfect myself. I have my own issues as well –

  Your issues are so minor, it's almost laughable, Khloe snorted. Sure, you just found out many disturbing things about your past, and sure, you went through some stuff, like being dead and than revived, but you're holding yourself together better than most people would have in this kind of situation. You're balanced, just like Mike said. You're not a mental case like Zack or me. You're okay. You're normal. You don't need him.

  I felt her retreating in my mind. She was done talking to me.

  When we arrived the Plains Boulevard, everyone's words swam in my head. I was so out of it, that I almost missed Mike asking me where the house was. I told them to keep going, and when we stopped next to simple, one-floor house, I finally realized I was going to see my parents for the first time in a few long years. They were not going to recognize me, of course, but that mattered little.

  As we stood before the front door, Mike and Zack seemed to wait for me to do the knocking. I took a deep breath, curled my hand, and knocked.

  The door was opened by a man in his fifties, who was lanky with short gray hair and familiar hazel eyes. He was slender and his face bore more wrinkles than I remembered, but his glasses and his plain looks remained the same. He barely changed since the last time I'd ever seen him.

  This was my father, right in front of me, looking at Zack, Mike and me with guarded eyes that were almost the exact replica of my own true ones.

  Swallowing a sudden lump in my throat, I forced on a polite smile. "Good afternoon, sir," I said, hoping no one noticed how my body shook. We agreed on a plan, and I was going to follow through even if it killed me. "My name is Khloe Daniels, and these are my acquaintances, Mr Grey and Mr Fox. Are you Drumb Mill?"

  My father nodded slowly, still cautious. "I am," he said, his clear voice just as I remembered.

  I cleared my throat. "We're here regarding an article we're writing for a new magazine we're about to publish about mysterious events that occurred in Texas," I lied, smiling again. "We would like to speak to you about one of these certain events, if you may agree."

  My father frowned, confused. "I'm not sure how I may be of any use," he said, sounding genuinely baffled.

  So I explained. "We're currently doing our little investigating regarding the public massacre that happened here in Amarillo about three years ago," I said as convincingly as I could, and my heart began to beat faster. My sixth sense was suddenly present in the back of my mind, pounding, as if to get my attention. I dismissed it. I couldn't be distracted right now. "According to our findings, your daughter, Carla Mill, was a victim."

  My heartbeat escalated so I heard it in my ears. Sweat covered my skin out of pure anxiety, and I hope no one heard me breathing as heavily as I did. And when my father spoke, I knew I should've listened to my sixth sense after all.

  "I think you're mistaken, Miss Daniels," Drumb Mill said, "I don't have any children."

  Chapter Sixteen

  To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I was more stupefied than anything else, honestly. My own father told to my face that he had no children, and seemed to actually believe it. That was... odd.

  A strange sensation spread through my chest. It wasn't pain, not really, but it was something akin to sadness, as though one of my childhood memories was ripped apart or something like that. Which didn't make any sense; any normal person who would've heard their parents say they don't have any children would be a teary mess of snot and sobs. But I... I just felt... nothing.

  So I managed to keep on a smile and cock my head. "Is that so?" I inquired, "Because our sources told us that Drumb and Felicia Mill are Carla Mill's parents."

  Drumb shook his head. "I'm afraid you might be referring to another couple with that name, then," he said calmly and smiled a little wearily. "My wife has been unable to fall pregnant, and so we never had any kids."

  That was not the truth. Something must've happened. But this discussion was not something I needed to do before this man. "I see," I said and smiled widely. "Well, excuse us for taking your time."

  He nodded, and then the door shut in our face.

  "Carla..." Zack said quietly, reluctantly.

  "We need to go to the graveyard," I said, finding my voice to be normal. "Then we need to find my grave."

  Without looking at either of the guys, I turned my back at the house I grew up at and marched to the car. Mike and Zack followed.

  Once we were inside, Mike said, "I think we should visit your former work place, too." What he didn't say was, so we can confirm that somehow the people in your life had their memories of you erased somehow.

  After what Snow told me, that Kimberly blocked my own memory, I had no doubt another Deity had done something to my parents' memories, and probably to my previous coworkers, too. It didn't take a genius to figure it out; after everything that happened, after I realized my murder had been planned all along, it just seemed to fit that for some reason, either Michelangelo or another Deity wanted my existence completely deleted.

  The true question was, who would go to such lengths to get rid of one person's existence and why was it so urgent for them to do so?

  "There's no need," I told the men, "I guess everyone in my work place had their memories wiped as well. In fact, I'm pretty sure everyone I've ever known remembers nothing about me."

  "Carla, are you okay?" Zack asked, concern in his voice.

  I was reminded of Mike's advice not to open up for him just yet. Still, I decided to answer truthfully, because it wasn't as much as explaining my mental state as of the moment. "I'm truly fine," I said, and surprised to find that, despite the slight sadness I still felt, mostly I was okay. "I've never been close to my parents and my coworkers or anyone else. I was an independent lone-wolf, you might call it. So the fact neither of these people remember me..." I shrugged. "It feels like a sense of loss, but not a big loss as it might've been."

  You're not fine, Khloe surprised me by actually talking to me again. You're far from fine. You just don't realize that.

  I don't think you're right this time, I told he frankly, I'm feeling perfectly okay for someone who just found out nobody in her former life remembered her.

  Fool, she hissed. You're such a fool.

  The next few minutes passed in silence as Zack drove to the local graveyard. Once there, he parked the car and we all got out and went through the greeting gates. We visited the office first to try and check if my name was registered, but the lists were long and the drawers were endless and so we decided explore by foot.

  As we walked through the rows of graves, Mike asked, "Do you feel anything in here, Carla?"

  I frowned, not understanding what he was asking at first, but then I realized. "I'll try and sense something out," I said and let my sixth sense come to the surface. What I felt made chills cover my skin from head to toe.

  There was barely life in this place, which was expected from a graveyard, but there was an undertone to that, something that brushed against me, beckoned me toward it. I tried to look around me to where this thing was at, deciding that this time I should follow my power sense, and then I began to walk to my right. Mike and Zack joined me a split moment later. "What do you feel?" Zack asked, grim.

  "Something here is out of place," I said slowly as we walked faster, "everything here is dead, obviously, but this thing is like a different kind of dead. I can't explain it. I just can tell you that it's calling out to my new sixth sense, and I don't think ignoring it, whatever it is, is the right move."

  Neither of them said anything afterwards and when I felt my sense growing bigger, pushing me hastily forward, I found myself in a row of similar gravestones, and then, when my legs came to a stop before one of the graves, I realized what it was that my power was trying to tell me.

  All the graves in this row were of anonymous people, probably homeless or something similar. But the grave I stood in front of wasn't just anon
ymous, wasn't just similar in shape and size to all other anonymous graves, but it had two dates, unlike the others that had only their death date carved on. This one read 1990-2012.

  "This is it," I said, my breath hitching, "my power tells me this is my grave." A shiver rippled through me. It felt almost surreal, standing right before of the place where my very own body had been buried.

  "Why is it that only you have two dates?" Mike asked, frowning in confusion. "You think it relates to the fact that no one remembers you?"

  I nodded. "I think... I have a feeling someone wanted me to find this grave."

  That made the two wolves pause, and then Zack said, "But how could anyone know you would be returned back to life? That doesn't sound realistic, Carla."

  Shaking my head, I crouched before of the grave. "I don't know," I said quietly, "I'm just telling you what my power tells me. And I don't it's wrong."

  "One thing is truly creeping me out about this whole thing," Mike murmured grimly, "and that's the fact the it seems that some Deities or Hunters or some sort of weird supernatural organization is extremely determined to either get rid of you or get your attention."

  It did sound ominous indeed. "Well," I said, rising back up, "whatever the reason are, the fact remains that this is probably my grave. Let's go grab a shovel and begin digging."

  We found only two shovels not so far from where my grave lay, and once we were back at my grave, Zack said, "You keep an eyes for any guard or something while Mike and I dig. We don't need to be asked any questions right now."

  I nodded and so Mike and Zack began digging while I scouted out for trouble, keeping myself on watch.

  It took about fifteen minutes until Mike's shovel clanked against the coffin door. He sighed and wiped the sweat of his forehead. "Come on, fellas," he said with a small grin, "I found the body."

  Zack rolled his eyes at him. "You don't have to sound so dramatic, Fox."

  Mike chuckled. "What's the fun in this all if we can't find the little things to joke about?"

  I smiled and shook my head. "Come on, manly men," I said lightly, trying to keep the mood lifted, "clean the dirt off my coffin."

  Zack groaned. "That sounds so zombie-apocalypse-movie kind of sentence, that it's not even funny."

  Barking out a surprised snort of laughter, I said, "Come on, Zack. Do you want your mate's coffin to be so dirty?"

  He shot me a narrow-eyed look that didn't seem so amused anymore. Since I knew that if we didn't keep the mood light I would probably freak out of having to see me skeleton or something, I pretended to wince and asked, "Too soon?"

  Mike snorted at that. "Cut her some slack, Grey," he said as he nudged the dirt of the coffin. "And pull that stick out your ass while you're at."

  Zack growled in warning, but let it go. Then the two of them were lifting the coffin out of the grave and back on the ground. I frowned when a sudden thought occurred to me. "Isn't what we're doing a crime? I mean, we're desecrating a grave."

  "Does it matter if it is?" Zack inquired with an arched eyebrow as all three of us stared at the closed coffin.

  I sighed. "I guess not," I said and stepped forward. I took a deep breath and crouched next to it. "Keep an eye out while I open this coffin. Don't want anyone getting a look at my goods."

  Both men nodded and turned to scout the area as I lifted the coffin door open. I closed my eyes as I did so, took three hopefully calming breaths, and forced myself to look and see.

  But what I saw made my blood run cold. "Guys," my voice shook, "I... I think I'm in a much deeper crap than before."

  The two looked over my shoulder at the content of the coffin and growled at the same time. Because what they saw was, well, nothing.

  No ashes, no skeleton, no nothing. My body wasn't there.

  The last thing I wanted was to eat, but since it'd been hours since any of us ate, we stopped at a roadside branch of McDonald's and bought hamburgers.

  "So," I said after we got our order and sat down, with Mike to my right and Zack to my left. "Our grand Amarillo mission has failed."

  Mike sighed. "I guess so."

  "Where could your body be, though?" Zack glared at his poor hamburger. "And why would anyone bother bury an empty coffin?"

  "It feels like whoever is responsible for this entire mess is trying to lure Carla step by step," Mike said with a grimace. "That makes me think they give you hints and nudges as to how to get your body back."

  "Why go through all this trouble, though?" I asked, utterly confounded by the entire situation. "Why not just come clean, give me my body, and go away?"

  Neither knew the answer to that, and so continued eating in silence. I tried not to stew so much about the chain of events that led me here with these two men, but it was tough, and all I wanted was to simply bury my head in the sand and ignore everything that went on around me.

  Someone walked into the place and I felt my skin tingling as my power rose again. Glancing surreptitiously sideways, I watched as a man went to the counter and gave his order to the worker. He was tall and wide-shouldered, with an athletic figure and evident muscles. He wore simple jeans and tee, and had a beanie covering most of his hair. I had no idea why a human like that caught my power's attention... until he got his trey of food and turned around, scanning the place.

  I couldn't be sure, but his eyes were light. I tensed. Were they so light they might be cobalt? I wondered, but I couldn't be sure with him being so far. When his eyes suddenly landed on our table, his handsome face wore a grin that made me freeze and he walked toward us.

  "Incoming," I murmured to Mike and Zack, who were already alert but now became alarmed, and when a fourth trey landed on the small table, all three of us looked up. The man was standing before us with a grin, and his eyes...

  They were cobalt. Absolute cobalt.

  "Saw you wolves here and decided to join," the man said with a pure American accent, giving all three of us a meaningful smirk I didn't quite get. "Would you mind?"

  Mike and Zack probably sensed the danger that lurked underneath this man's so-called civilized skin, but curiosity got the better of them. "Be out guest," Mike said lowly, and I saw the two of them moved surreptitiously closer to me, their protective instincts rising a notch at having a stranger so close.

  The man plopped himself freely on the fourth chair and grabbed his cup of coke, drinking from the straw. "So," he said, eyes glinting, "I won't even pretend that I don't know you."

  All three of us tensed again.

  He grinned. "Easy there," he said, and his cobalt eyes flashed for a split second. "I'm just trying to be friendly here. No need to get your tails in a twist."

  Something about the man was extremely weird. I couldn't put my finger on it, on what about the way he sat with one hand behind his head bothered me, or the way he was languid with two strong male wolves looking at him as though he was prey. Whatever this man was – which was certainly not human, I could know even without having any sixth sense – he was dangerous.

  When he saw his words had no impact on either terse male, he sighed. "Fine," he said, rolling his eyes and then pointed at Mike. "You're Mike Fox, the West Coast Pack alpha's adviser. And you," he pointed dramatically at Zack, "are Zack Grey, middle son of the Grey family, the Beta of the Biwole, the One True Alpha's right-hand man, blah, blah, blah..." his eyes went to me and I tensed. "And you seem like Khloe Daniels, of the infamous Daniels family in Houston. But you look a little different than I thought."

  Both Mike and Zack took my hands under the table and squeezed, telling me to shut up. I, however, had no intention to do so. "You're right on all three," I said flatly, looking right into this man's eyes. "But while I might look like Khloe Daniels, it doesn't mean I'm her."

  "Hmm..." his eyes narrowed in thought. "I did hear, in fact, that Miss Daniels was ill a few months ago, and then suddenly she wasn't anymore. I've always wondered about that, especially when rumor had it the young Daniels sister has changed to be a better, more op
timistic person." His grin now was downright threatening. "I don't believe in people changing so drastically like that."

  "As you should," I responded, shaking the wolves' hands off me in irritation. "So, what do you think happened to Khloe Daniels?"

  He leaned forward, the motion almost catlike. "I think," he spoke quietly, grin still intact, "that you're not Khloe Daniels, but that she still is alive, which makes you a dual-revival case, which make you, my dear intruding soul, a Necromancer."

  Zack and Mike were so tautly tensed, I knew they were ready to strike. I, however, wasn't ready for this conversation to be over. "And how someone like you would know about a Necromancer and revival?" Which reminded me he called Khloe and my situation a dual-revival case. It sounded plausible.

  "That's right, I forgot to introduce myself," he smiled almost pleasantly. "My name is Dory. And I don't forget the eyes of the people I killed." He paused and gave me a taunting grin before murmuring softly, "Miss Carla Mill."

  Chapter Seventeen

  I didn't see him move, but suddenly Zack was behind Dory, his motion a blur when his clawed hand came to penetrate my killer's heart through the back. In even faster act, Dory was out of the chair and a few feet away, arms folded. "Those were good instincts," Dory murmured, cooing, "but since I didn't even move a finger to attack, technicality requires me to win."

  "Liar," Zack snarled, eyes a brilliant silver like nothing I had seen before. "You were about to kill her again."

  Mike, sensing the mood, went to Zack's side and murmured something to him. Zack only snarled something unintelligible in return, which made Mike sigh and look at me. "Carla," he said quietly, "we need to go."

  My eyes widened as I watched Zack beginning circling Dory, who was grinning wildly, eyes lit with excitement. The wacko wanted Zack to attack him, wanted to draw blood and cause mayhem, especially in front of all the diner, who were already scrambling away, looking at the two with wide, fearful eyes.

  "Why?" I asked Mike as I stood, going next to him. "Why does Zack have to fight him?"