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

by JP Vasha

  "Because it's his duty as your mate," Mike said flatly, his own electric-blue eyes growing hard. "No one fucks with one's mate. That's a known rule. Because if something happens to your mate, be it a man or a woman, you become a creature of violence and anger who has every right to punish the wrong party."

  I saw something in his eyes then that made me feel suddenly sick. "You want to kill me," I said, and for a certain reason, I knew with a hundred percent surety that, between Dory and Mike, the one who was more likely to kill me the second time was the latter.

  Because, as Dory so nicely put it, I was an intruder in Mike's mate's body. He might act civilized and might even think me a nice person, but his most primitive instincts would scream at him constantly that I was an obstacle, someone who was doing something bad to his mate by simply existing in her body, and that I needed to be removed.

  The adviser's face tightened. "We can't talk about this right now," he glanced at where Zack was growling at Dory, who was cocking his head, as though asking What are you waiting for?

  Mike was right. This specific talk could wait. There were more urgent stuff for me to do. Squaring my shoulders, I walked right in between the two males. "Zack," I said, looking at the Beta of the Biwole, who seemed to shed every semblance of composure in favor of violence "I need you to step back."

  His eyes snapped to me and he growled deep in his throat. I swallowed hard, but did not cower. "Please, Zack," I said softly, "this man here is the only one who might know where my real body is. You can't kill him just yet."

  "You're ruining all the fun," I whipped my head to where Dory was sending me an almost pouting look, like a sad puppy. If he weren't the one who killed me and an overall nutjob, I would've thought him really hot, but since all of the above were more than influential, I couldn't really see it.

  "Dory," I said, turning my back to Zack and walking back slowly until I felt his warmth right behind me. When he put his arms around my waist, buried his face in my neck, and growled into my skin, I held onto his forearms, reaching my sixth sense, with my power, to soothe him somehow. I returned my attention to Dory, who was, for my shock, wearing a blank look now as he watched Zack's interaction with me. "Dory," I repeated, and my killer's cobalt eyes returned to me.

  "What?" he asked, and for the first time since he came to sit with us, there was no mirth dancing in his eyes, no joking tone, his face as hard as granite and his posture as terse as one could be. He looked like a warrior now, a grave warrior at that, and for an extremely odd reason, my heart clenched for him in sympathy. He was my killer, the one who sent me to the void, yet I was here, feeling sorry for him for whatever reason? That was more than just screwed up.

  As I felt Zack taking in my scent from my neck, I mimicked Dory's posture and turned rigidly grim. "Do you have any idea where my body is?"

  "Why should I tell you?" he asked, eyes narrowing. He seemed to be saying Playtime's over. "In case you have a short-term memory loss, let me remind you something; I killed you three years ago."

  Ignoring that last part and stifling the shiver that threatened to cut through my spine and having Zack pasting me more firmly against his chest, I asked, "Are you one of the Divine Hunters? Are you under Michelangelo's influence?" At the Deity's name, something sinister flashed in his eyes. I pushed on. "I got a visit from him a few days ago," I told him, showing him the truth in my eyes. "He told me his Hunters were sent to Amarillo three years ago to kill me. I'm assuming that Michelangelo is responsible to the Divine Hunters?"

  Muscles threatened to pop in every part of Dory's body. "Why should I tell you any of that?" he asked, voice dripping menace.

  "Because," I said, giving him a sudden, victorious smile as I thought up something, "you killed me, and now I'm back to life. You owe me. The rules of magic requires you to deliver."

  That was a bluff, or more likely an educational risk. I remembered reading a fantasy book once that mentioned something about magic and who owed who for what. I figured that this couldn't be much different in this world, especially after everything I'd been told by both Kimberly and Eve. As to the rules of magic... I knew in my gut that Dory wasn't human. He might not be a Deity either, or some sort of a weird vampire-hybrid like Eve, or even mana-fueled like Snow, but he was definitely something.

  My educational risk paid off. Dory grimaced and if glares could kill, his would've done me over twenty times and counting. "Once I tell you everything you need to know now," he said, voice barely containing his rage, "about the blasted Deity, the Hunters, and as to where your body is, will you then take me off the debt?"

  Debt. That was the word I should've used. Not that it mattered anyway; he still followed through with my bluff – err, educational risk. "After you tell me all that I need to know without attacking either my mate, Mike, or me, then we will be even."

  Nodding, he motioned with his head toward the exit. "Let's do this somewhere more private."

  Mike was next to me then. "How do you know he's not bluffing?" he murmured in question before we moved.

  "Because," I whispered, "my power tells me I nailed it right in the head. He does owe me a debt. A sort of life debt, if I'm not mistaken, since he killed me when I was a vulnerable innocent. That's an act of evil that, had I remained dead, would've been looked over, but since I'm alive, it requires the killer to atone for his sin."

  After that, neither Mike nor Zack argued with me. I was back to be the one in charge of this entire event, and I preferred it to be this way. Zack let me go, but was closer than before, his arm around my waist protectively, the growl still evident in his throat, but he was letting me be the one in the lead, and Mike followed his example.

  Dory took us to a picnic bench not far from McDonald's, where he settled down on, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it up. "Come on," he said when he saw we remained standing. A sudden evil grin spread on his face, reminding me of how he'd acted at first before he turned all serious and warrior-esque. "Sit with me. It's a beautiful afternoon for Amarillo, with all these clouds and a possible rain. Besides," he shrugged, inhaling the nicotine from his cigarette, "I'm not going to attack you anymore. I'm here to pay my debt and be done with this shite."

  We sat down after I promised both Mike and Zack that my power sensed no hidden meaning in his words, and they sandwiched me in between them. Then I turned to Dory. "You're American, obviously, but an British accent sometimes enters your intonation. Why's that?"

  Dory scowled. "That's beside the point of the real conversation."

  It was, but since I was curious,I simply gave him a beatific smile and said sweetly, "You promised to answer every question I have."

  He gave me an almost murderous look. "I'm half British. There, mystery solved." He smoked slowly before regaining his composure and said, "Now for the other, more important stuff."

  Leaning closer to me and making both Mike and Zack tense, he said, "The Divine Hunters have been going around a lot longer than any of you werewolves know about, including your precious One True Alpha," he almost spat those last words, "they were formed by a certain man called Masterson a few centuries back. Masterson hated werewolves since they'd been nothing but bastards to him, and decided to rid the world of them. He created the Hunters, for all those people who were victimized by wolves, and began hunting them quietly, under the radar."

  "So Michelangelo isn't the one who organized your group?" I inquired, trying to mull over what he was telling me.

  Dory took a longer puff before exhaling almost dramatically. "The blasted Deity came later," he said, his British accent slipping in, "he did something for me that left me in debt for him, much like I am in debt to you." His nose scrunched, making him look like he was smelling something rotten. "When he came to collect, it was three years ago. I was with a group of Hunters hunting for some supplies at Wichita Falls for rebuilding our camp," Wichita Falls, I knew, wasn't that far away from Amarillo. "The Deity came at night, when I was the one standing guard, and told me what to do."

&nb
sp; "He wanted you to find me in Amarillo and get rid of me," I said plainly.

  Shrugging, Dory took a pause to smoke before continuing. "Well, basically, yeah. The wanker told me that you worked at that accounting company as a secretary, and that he got one of your coworkers to tell him where and when you took your lunch breaks. From there is was pretty easy to point you out."

  "But why kill all other people?" I asked, throat choking a little. "Why did you have to make such a spectacle out of murdering? You made it a public massacre, which is not the exact pattern you Hunters follow, I believe."

  "While you're correct, in a sense," he said, "this was a special case. The Deity didn't know how you might look like; I think he was only aware of your existence and didn't bother to look deeper into it, because, like most blasted Deities, he's bloody arrogant," a new grimace marred his face, "so while we knew the time and place of your whereabouts, we knew nothing as of how you look like. So we went on a killing spree, killing both werewolves and humans, since we didn't know what you were."

  Dory gave me an almost pitying look. "Eventually, I realized it was you when I pointed a gun at your face. While you looked like all other humans and your eyes were just a regular normal, nothing abnormal, I sensed your raw potential power, and not just any power," his face darkened. "Necromancy. The Art of the Dead. One of the darkest forms of magic there is."

  The men on both my sides were taut to a point of snapping. I went downright frozen at his words. "Why is it so dark?" I asked, afraid to hear the answer.

  Dory gave me a grin that made me cold to the bones. "Have you tried to resurrect something?" At my brisk silence, he chuckled ominously. "I thought so. You probably raised a small animal back to life. Was it a deer? A rabbit?"

  "A bunny," I blurted, and wanted to slap myself. I was the one supposed to be asking questions, not him. But the tables had turned.

  "Figured," his grin was triumphant now. He had the upper hand in this conversation. "And when you raised the bunny, I assume you draw life from everything you could, right?"

  I narrowed my eyes. "How do you know all that?"

  "Tat-tat, you wanted me to explain, so that's exactly what I'm doing," his grin widened, saying, gotcha. "Anyhoo, since you only raised a small animal, the effect wasn't as substantial as you might've expected. But let me tell you what happens when you resurrect a human being." His grin turned saccharine. "Because magic and nature in general requires balance, if you resurrect a human being, be it a werewolf, a vampire, anything you want, the natural order of the universe will have to take the life of another person at the exact moment your human is brought to life. Which basically means, a life for a life. What came back from the dead will send another in his stead."

  My face were white as sheet, I knew for sure. Because if what Dory had just said was the truth... "What happened when Khloe and I were resurrected?"

  Dory's grin dissipated, much to my relief. He now looked grim as he inhaled more nicotine into his lungs. "That's why Necromancy gives me the creeps," he said disdainfully, "what is dead should remain dead." He gave me a pointed look.

  I ignored his musings and barked out, "Answer the question."

  He sighed. "With little Miss Daniels, I can only guess someone in the world died when she had been arisen, since she's a normal werewolf and all that. However, since it's a dual-revival case and you're a Necromancer, instead of killing another person to pay for your return back to life like the natural order requires so, the universe decided to play a different joke in your expanse."

  With a click, I understood what he was saying. "Because my own return was unnatural in its own way, the natural order made sure I couldn't return to the life I had and erased my past existence entirely." Which would explain the memory loss, the gravestone, the fact there was no Carla Mill in any of the records everyone and I searched...

  "Bingo," Dory said in a dry sing-song tone, "Correct again. Damn, you're on a roll today, Mill."

  My hands curled into fists and I forced my thoughts away from that last disturbing piece of information. "Now, where is my body?" I asked, getting down to business.

  Dory rose on his feet, plopping the cigarette and the floor and stepping on it, turning it off. "After I disclose this, we're even."

  I stared at him severely. If the situation was different, I would've thought that having the one who killed me thinking we're even after he answered just a few questions of mine, was completely out of the question. But since there's magic involved, and I was the one who initiated the terms of this debt in the first place, I knew that, despite everything else, he was right.

  "Tell me where my body is and we'll be even," I promised.

  He nodded. "For the record, I wasn't the one who took it out of the grave but one of my colleagues." As if that mattered. "And we did it, again, under that blasted Deity's orders." Dory shrugged. "The body is somewhere in Logia."

  I wanted to thump my head against the wooden table. Why did everything have to go back to Logia? "Do you have any idea where exactly in Logia?" I inquired. I didn't know the geography of the place just yet, but having a name of city or something would be useful once we set foot there, ignoring Michelangelo's threat, that is.

  Shrugging, he stretched his arms. "Nope," he said, "all I did was drop the body through the portal. I didn't bother going over to that blasted land and make sure your body had a safe trip back home."

  His attitude grated on my nerves. "So my body could basically be anywhere in that land," I said, annoyed with the situation. "How big is it, anyway?"

  He gave me an odd look. "What makes you think I've visited there?"

  This time I threw a dishrag at him. "A hunch."

  Grinning, he leaned again forward. "I did visit there," he said, almost purring, "and let me tell you, girl, but this land is big enough for you to get lost on your way to locate your bloody body."

  He straightened and then glanced at Mike and Zack, who I almost I forgot were there, they were so silent. "You lapdogs didn't even try to get an info out of me as to who's the Divine Hunters' current leader is. I expected it of the Beta of the Biwole, at least."

  Zack gave him a scathing look. "We let Carla handle this magic debt or whatever this shit was," he said lowly, warningly, "but of course, if the name of your leader can contribute anything to Carla's mission, then consider it also a part of the debt."

  Dory hadn't expected this kind of logic and his face visibly darkened, while Zack plastered on a canine grin a predator gave to a prey. Dory did not cower, however. He simply grinned back after cooling down, and then turned back to me. "It was a pleasure talking to you, Miss Carla," he said, and then, for my surprise winked at me flirtatiously. "If you don't find little Mr Grey there satisfactory enough, my bedroom door is open."

  Zack let a growl but Dory suddenly leaped backward, putting a few meters away between him and us. "As for the leader's name..." he grinned wickedly. "It's still Masterson."

  My power sparked at that, and before he could walk away, I asked, "What's your last name, Dory?"

  He winked at me again. "Masterson," he told us before blinking out of existence, vanishing into thin air, and leaving me with two male wolves who were growling in rage.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I was tired when we checked in into a motel on 3rd Ave, since Zack barely calmed down at all since Dory's disappearance and Mike was nagging me to get Khloe out. Khloe, however, was keeping radio-silent, and no matter how much I tried to cajole her to talk to me, she silently refused.

  The day had been too eventful, and so when we got into the room, I didn't bother unpack my backpack and simply fell face-front on the cushioned bed. Unfortunately, neither man was ready for me to be asleep, which would've sounded sexy had they not said what they said.

  "Carla, I need to look into your eyes," said Mike, whom I now dubbed Pushover No 1. "I need to make Khloe come out again and talk to me."

  "Carla," Zack – aka Pushover No 2 – said next, "we need to discuss what that stupid,
fucking, blasted Hunter said – "

  I groaned into the mattress, and then sighed. "He does say blasted a lot, doesn't he?" I asked airily, my mind a numb mush that wanted me to rest to tomorrow I could contemplate everything over more clearly. "Stupid British-American freakshow."

  Both men said at once, "Carla – " and that was the final straw.

  Turning around and sitting up, I glared at them both. "I'm exhausted," I said, and the both of them, who stood before me with their arms folded, started at my sharp voice, "I'm worn out, I'm tired, I'm weary. This has been the longest day ever, and all I want is to sleep. Pushover No 1 – " I pointed at Mike " – Your beloved has currently gone AWOL, so stop bugging me about bringing her back to the front because, well, she doesn't talk to me at the moment. And you, Pushover No 2 – " I averted my pointed finger to Zack " – need to freaking let me process everything that went on today. Do I need to remind you just how many stuff I went through in less than twenty-four hours?"

  Zack scowled while Mike looked up, as though asking whatever Deity up there, Why me? I, however, was not finished with my little speech just yet. "I've realized my entire existence was erased because of the frigging natural order which requires some crappy balance in the world, which means nobody of me previous life remembers me, including my own family. Then there's this whole thing that they might not be my real parents and blah-blah-blah which I would've loved getting into right now, but since you two exhausted the shit out of me, I won't. Oh, and don't forget that last part, which is personally my favorite," I folded my arms. "I've just met my killer and then he told me we're even after answering some long overdue questions. So yeah, this has been a shitty day all around, and you two can't stop pushing me and pushing and pushing and all I want is to fucking sleep!"

  Both men were tensed at the fact I'd just yelled that last part. I was also breathing heavy with fury at them both. They thought I was a machine, and I guess I kind of made them think that way; my adaptability, while higher than normal, I admit, did have a limit. I'd absorbed every bit of information today, good and bad alike, and waited for this moment, for the moment where I could finally rest and digest it all slowly and quietly. Instead, these two thought me to be a robot, emotionless and blank, and simply kept pushing.