Lycan on the Edge: Broken Heart Book 13

by Michele Bardsley

  Warily, Meckenzie squared her jaw and turned. She scowled at a very tall, very buff, very gorgeous man with moonlight hair and unnaturally gold eyes. He was pale—like a vampire would be. He wore a jeweled blue dress shirt tucked into black pants. His shoes were also black—Giorgio Brutini dress boots, if Meckenzie wasn’t mistaken. Hmm. No bike and no car. Where had he come from? And how had he snuck up on her?

  Vampire?

  He was pale—like a vampire would be. But there was that whole breathing thing. Unless he was taking breaths to psych her out, and she doubted that, then he was using his lung capacity.

  So werewolf?

  Shit. Did it matter?

  He stared at her. Meckenzie stared back. She was stubborn, but she was also practical. Her “borrowed” car was kaput. She was starved and weary. He was the only help for miles. And she’d come all this way to get to Broken Heart. She was walking a fine line between two paranormal enemies. She just hoped she didn’t get burned in the crossfire.

  Finally, he said, “I’m Ren Marchand.”

  “Meckenzie,” she said.

  “Meckenzie…?”

  “Yeah.” Meckenzie ignored his hint for her last name. “You’re one of the few people I’ve met who pronounce it right.”

  “It’s Gaelic,” he said. “Mec instead of Mac, right? It means ‘daughter of a wise leader.’”

  “That’s right. My mother had a sense of humor.”

  He waited, presumably for her to clarify her last statement, but Meckenzie didn’t. The silence went on as if he had the patience of the ages. Maybe he did. Once again, Meckenzie gauged his muscled build, warrior gaze, and designer clothes. Patient, sure. And predatory. Meckenzie knew the attitude well enough.

  “I’d appreciate a lift into town,” Meckenzie said.

  “I can arrange a ride for you to Tulsa.” He nodded toward the car. “I will make sure it is repaired and returned to you.”

  It wasn’t her car, so it didn’t matter if she got it back. Meckenzie had planned to abandon it. “Look, dude, I’m tired, and I’m hungry. The entire state of Oklahoma is under construction, especially the roads. I bet there’s a Motel 6 nearby, right? And a Denny’s. Every town has a Denny’s.” C’mon, c’mon. I know you’re from Broken Heart. Let me in!

  He offered no response. Instead he withdrew a silver phone from a holder clipped to his belt loop, flipped it open, and punched in a number. “It’s Ren.”

  He walked away and carried on the conversation out of her earshot.

  Well, he could make all the plans he wanted. She’d started down this road, figuratively and literally—and there was no going back. Both her life and her mother’s soul were at stake now.

  “Your ride is on the way,” said Ren in a low voice as joined her once again. That flutter of French in his voice was damned sexy. He stepped close to her, his gaze curious, but wary. Wow. He was, to coin the phrase of an annoyingly perky TV chef, yumm-O.

  His gaze curved along her low-cut top designed to draw attention to the wearer’s cleavage, which Meckenzie had plenty of thanks to genetics and a push-up bra. Ever hear that saying, “dress for success”? Well, Meckenzie dressed to distress and to distract.

  His stare dipped from her Double D’s to the faded jeans Meckenzie wore. His gaze almost seemed to strip her naked as it meandered from her leather belt to her fab ankle boots. Like anything you see, big boy?

  Ren’s head snapped up, and for an instant, her heart stopped. Lust beat like a raven’s wing in his gaze, the heat of it so intense Meckenzie nearly turned to ash. Instead of reaching for that divine misery, she cocked a hip and glared at him. “You ever heard of personal space?”

  He moved back, his expression far from apologetic, and crossed his arms. “You are not scared of me.”

  “No.” Meckenzie poked her chin out.

  “Perhaps, Meckenzie,” he whispered in a voice designed to melt steel—or a girl’s insides, “you should be scared.”

  “I know what fear is,” Meckenzie told him. “And honey, you ain’t it.”

  Ren’s mouth hinted at a smile. Whew. She knew too well the power of pure unadulterated need. Not for a man, but for a cause. This unwanted attraction glittered like fool’s gold, offering so much and delivering so little.

  The wind kicked up. She felt a familiar chill in the air. Realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

  Fuck.

  Really, Ena? Her entire being went cold, and her hair stood on end. Ren sensed the sudden change in atmosphere, too. He straightened, his gaze tracking the surrounding area. She resisted the urge to move closer to him. No matter how badass this guy was, he couldn’t protect her.

  She owed a debt to the wrong person.

  The chill weaved along her skin turning into ice needles, sharp and gelid. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Panic skittered in her belly. She had to get into Broken Heart. Once there, she had to figure out a way to protect those she was putting into danger.

  God, she wished there was a better way.

  “What’s wrong?” Ren asked. His hands wrapped around her shoulders. The warmth of his fingers barely penetrated the unrelenting cold. “You’re freezing! Your lips are blue.”

  “H-happens every time,” she managed. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. She felt as if every drop of warmth had seeped out of her. Her heart strummed a harsh beat. She hated this. Hated being bound. Hated every second she’d been a witch’s minion. Ena had some serious trust issues if she was sending the shadows to Meckenzie now. “We n-need to go.”

  “Il y a quelque chose qui cloche,” he said in a low, worried voice. He looked at me. “What are those things?”

  “You see them?” she asked.

  He nodded. Huh. She hadn’t expected that. The shadows were meant for her. A warning. They stared at the undulating black shapes a few feet away. Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled Meckenzie close to his broad chest, his muscular arms tightening around her. She knew with a sudden, crazy certainty that Ren would protect her.

  Ren didn’t owe her squat, but here he was, putting his safety before hers. Such a terrible kindness he offered—and the burden of it made tears crowd her eyes. Only one other person had made her feel secure. But her mother was dead. And Meckenzie had no one.

  The shadows hissed and scuttled backward, but were not sufficiently cowed by Ren’s presence to dissipate. She shuddered and quaked, her skin tinted gray from the cold that always accompanied the evil bastards. Then, the cold fell away like a discarded coat, and with it, the last of her energy. Bitch. Ena had ensured Meckenzie would be too weak to do anything rash. Like, confess.

  She sank to her knees, swaying … then crumpled on her side.

  “Meckenzie!”

  She tried to raise her head, but it ached too fiercely. She moaned, unable to even lift her arms. Her vision grayed. Ren’s face drew close, alarm flaring in his gold eyes.

  “Crap,” she uttered.

  Then darkness claimed her.

  Chapter Nine

  THE FRAGRANT SMELL of coffee pulled Sophie out of a restful sleep. It took her a moment to figure out where she was.

  Oh, yeah. Las Vegas. Naked in a hotel room with Trent. She blushed to the roots of her hair as she remembered all the really fun and super naughty naked things they’d done in bed together. Trent was a generous, adventurous lover.

  Wowzer.

  She saw the bathrobe at the end of the bed, and grabbed it, slipping on the soft terrycloth before she got up. The bathroom door was shut, so she assumed Trent was inside. Her stomach fluttered just thinking about him, and she was sure her inner thighs would be sore for a week, supernatural healing aside. She sighed and smiled, wistful, allowing herself this moment of sheer happiness after months of pure hell. Trent made her feel almost like herself, or as close to herself as she could remember.

  She wished she could get back all her memories. Something was going on with her, and she was certain now that Damian had sent Trent in to figure it out. But
Sophie didn’t want to worry about the Alberich, about the attack, and how it had changed her inside and out. She wanted to live in this moment. While she was here in the city where anything could happen, she just wanted to enjoy being with him, not worrying about the why.

  A whiff of pure deliciousness quickly diverted her focus to her stomach. On the table was a breakfast fit for a werewolf. A pile of bacon. Fluffy scrambled eggs. Biscuits. And a whole pot of coffee. She poured herself a cup, put a dollop of creamer in it, and sipped on the hot brew. Man, that was good.

  Trent came up behind her, trailing his fingers up her arms. He lifted her hair and kissed the nape of her neck. “Good morning,” he said, his breath tickling her earlobe.

  Electric shivers ran through her, and the now familiar yearning awakened within her. Sophie put down the cup and turned in Trent’s arms, resting her hands lightly on his shoulders. “Good morning.”

  “Morning. I hope you’re hungry.”

  She sat down and he took the across from her.

  Sophie smiled to hide her uncertainty. Before, when he’d been in the bathroom, she’d felt clarity about Trent, about the role she’d like him to play in her life. With him right next to her, his hand grazing her knee, she needed more information to process what was happening between them. It might’ve been a little old-fashioned, but she wanted to know: What were his intentions toward her?

  Working up courage, she bit into a strip of bacon. The salty, smoky slice had just the right texture. Chewy meat and crispy fat. Perfection.

  “I wish I were that bacon right now,” Trent said.

  Sophie flushed hotly. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes. Or that she was making a humming noise. “Trent.” She hesitated when his heated gaze met hers. Sophie shook her head to combat his bedroom eyes. “I have to know. What are we doing?”

  “Today?” he said as if the implication didn’t go deeper. “Going home with a very grumpy grandma.”

  “No. I mean this. And last night.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Before we start down that path, and we will go down the path if I have anything to say about it, we need to talk. Us and Virginia.” He took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  Sophie, however, didn’t feel reassured. Not at all.

  * * *

  “HMPH. EGGS ARE dry. Bet I could do better with my wok.”

  “That wok needs to be destroyed.” Sophie tapped her spoon against the plate. “Eat the bacon.”

  “Pork gives me gas.”

  “Nana!”

  Nana crossed her arms. “You brought it up.”

  “I did not—oh, never mind.” Sophie sighed. “What do you think he wants to tell us?”

  “Well, if he’d hurry up with his secret phone call, we’d find out already.”

  Sophie tried to will away the ache in her gut. Why did she have the terrible feeling whatever Trent told her would change everything, including what was unfolding between them? His cell phone had gone off before he’d even gotten a word out. He’d immediately taken the call into the hallway, apparently far enough away that not even her werewolf hearing could pick up the conversation.

  Nana leaned back and crossed her arms. She gave Sophie a once over. “So, I take it you got your bell rung last night?”

  “Oh, my God. Nana, I am not talking to you about my sex life.”

  “Well, at least you have one now.”

  The hotel door opened, and Trent entered, his gaze automatically seeking hers. His expression was a combination of resigned and hopeful. He seemed to be asking for her to understand, to forgive.

  “What’s going on?” demanded Nana.

  Sophie couldn’t look away from him. “Trent?”

  * * *

  “SHE’S PRETTY,” SAID a woman’s voice tinted with a French accent.

  “Yes,” agreed a male voice. Ah, the gorgeous Ren. “She is also trouble.”

  The woman laughed. “Maybe you need some trouble, brother.”

  Meckenzie debated about pretending she was still asleep. Meh. She wasn’t one to hide. Gee, if she had time for personal growth issues, she might add, “learn to stay put and shut up” on her list of behaviors to modify.

  “Hi,” Meckenzie croaked as she opened her eyes.

  “Welcome back,” soothed the woman. “I’m Anise.”

  Dressed in a white pantsuit, Anise looked like a nymph who’d stolen clothes so she could cavort as a mortal. Pale as moonlight, her skin seem carved from flawless white marble. Her waist-length hair was the color of new lace. Her gold eyes made her appear otherworldly.

  Like her twin.

  “How are you feeling?” asked Ren.

  Meckenzie turned her head to look at him. The sizzling connection between them held firm. Oh, lawd. Lust was a terrible, beautiful thing. “Freaking great,” she muttered. Pain throbbed in her temples, and her mouth felt filled with sand. “May I have some water?”

  Anise left, presumably to fulfill her request. She looked around the room. It was tiny, white, and smelled like antiseptic. She’d been tucked into a twin-sized hospital bed; the metal railing had been left down.

  “It’s a mobile medical facility,” said Ren. “It was closer than the hospital.”

  “Oh.”

  Anise returned with a plastic cup filled with water. The woman’s gaze skated over Ren, and she turned a knowing glance to Meckenzie.

  Oh, no, sister, Meckenzie thought. She was not in the market for a man. But sex … well, now that was something else altogether.

  She slowly sat up and took the cup Anise offered. “Thank you.” She gulped down half the liquid. “Did someone run me over with a wheat thresher?”

  “You don’t look worse for wear,” Anise said, smiling. “But I’m sure you feel like shit.” Her gaze filled with concern. “Why were the shadows after you?”

  “You saw them, too?”

  She nodded.

  Once again, Meckenzie considered lying. What was the point? She planned to fulfill her bargain with the witch, but there was no way in hell she would let Ena the Evil and her goons destroy a whole town. She put the cup onto the little metal table next to the bed. “I owe a very powerful witch named Ena.”

  Ren and Anise shared a look, and then both pinned their gazes on her.

  “What did you do?” asked Ren.

  “It’s more like what she did. And what she plans to do. But it’s your lucky day. Ena doesn’t know it yet, but I have something that will trump her ace.”

  “Trump her ace?” Ren frowned.

  “If she’s such a powerful witch,” said Anise, “then why can’t she…” She trailed off and blinked at Meckenzie. “You know about witches? Real witches?”

  “My mother was a friend to parakind,” she said. “So, yeah, I know all about you guys.” She paused. “Except you two are weird. Vampires? Werewolves?”

  “Loup de sang,” said Anise.

  “Blood wolf,” Ren translated.

  “Wow. That’s … er, new.” It wasn’t like she kept track of the supernatural. She was usually too busy watching out for her ass. And look what being a selfish jerkface had gotten her.

  On the up side, she felt somewhat better. The pain in her head had receded, and her body didn’t feel clammy. She hesitated to reveal more information. Oh, hell. The jig was up. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t know where she was, or that she’d had every intention of getting here. “You have bigger issues than little ole me.”

  Anise smiled carefully, and, if Meckenzie wasn’t mistaken, her gaze turned suspicious. “It’s not a coincidence you ended up near our borders?”

  If Mom taught her anything, it was to be open to the good and look out for the bad. Thus far, she’d sucked at following that wise advice. Darkness lurks in the brightest of places, Meckenzie. She had to trust someone. She doubted the paranormals here were one-tenth the asshole that Ena was. Finally, she said, “I need to talk to Brigid.”

  “Your mother is a friend to the goddess?” asked Anise in
a voice filled with awe.

  “Uh, yeah. Mom said Brigid owed her a solid, and if I ever needed it, I could call in her marker.”

  “Your mother will not collect her debt?” Ren’s gold gaze went as cold as an Oklahoma ice storm.

  “She died more than a year ago,” Meckenzie said. “Brigid’s favor belongs to me now.”

  Ren’s lips tightened into a thin line. Well, so much for the possibility of doing the mattress mambo. French guy had the kind of morals Meckenzie found irksome. His gaze locked on hers, and she felt her stomach dip. Why’d he have to be so gorgeous? It’d be easier to ignore all the judgment in his tone if he was an ugly troll. He raked her with a look she couldn’t quite figure out then he nodded to Anise and … left.

  Pffffffft to you, too, buddy. She turned her stare to the enigmatic werewolf’s sister.

  “He’s a fun guy,” Meckenzie said, her ego unaccountably wounded by his dismissal. She swung her feet off the bed, stood, and wobbled. Anise grabbed her shoulder and steadied her. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Meckenzie, there’s more, isn’t there?”

  Meckenzie met Anise’s glare and sighed. What was the point of keeping all her secrets? “Yeah. A lot more. Please tell me Brigid is within yelling distance.”

  “I do not know where the goddess is.”

  Ren re-entered the room, and his expression was thunderous. Anise took one look at his face and then said, “I must go. Good-bye, Meckenzie.”

  “Bye.”

  Ren said, “Queen Patricia wishes to speak with you.”

  “That’s great. ‘Cause I’d like to speak to her, too.” She put a hand on Ren’s arm and felt energy arc between them. He looked at her, and she knew he’d felt it, too. “What is this thing we have?”

  “It is nothing.”

  “Wow. Figured you for a lot of things, Ren,” she said, shaking her head and tsking. “But never for a liar.”

  He went utterly still. Men. You could always hit their egos squarely if you questioned their honor, especially men like him. He looked at her and saw what she wanted him to: a sexpot thief with a bad attitude. He was attracted to her, and it pissed him off.