by Mina Carter
Swearing under his breath, he ran down the stairs, eyes trained on the bottom and his gun at the ready. He tried for quiet, really he did, but at six foot plus was wasn’t a lightweight and the sound of his heart thundering in his ears made it difficult to tell if he managed it.
Fear raced through his veins like a thousand marching ants with hobnail boots on. A terrible tattoo that accompanied the racing of his thoughts. She’d be okay, she had to be okay, he told himself, stopping at the bottom of the stairs to listen.
Instinct and the smallest of drafts, little more than a whisper of sensation over his skin, turned him in the direction of the kitchen. Instead of turning left and going through the small study area, he headed right to the main room. The door into the kitchen there was wider with a better line of sight. Whatever was in there wouldn’t be able to hide from him, not from that angle.
He turned the corner and did a neat half-step to the left, his movements slick with experience. He’d walked around his own place often enough he could do it blind-folded. The main room was rendered monochrome by night. The warmth leeched out of the beiges and browns.
Half an apple flew out of the doorway ahead of him, hit the floor, and slid a few feet across the wooden floor before it came to a stop at the edge of a rug. He spared it a glance and tucked himself against the wall to approach the door. Three slices of banana, complete with skin, followed the apple and landed on the floor with wet splats. What the hell was in there...the lesser-spotted fruit-monster?
Snarls had him focused on the doorway again. Reaching it, he swung around the corner, hand with the gun slicing in different directions as he checked the room out. What he saw almost stopped his heart. A fully-furred up Lycan advanced on Laney, wickedly sharp claws glittering in the dull light through the window.
“Hey, asshole.” He aimed for the back of the creature's neck. Sever the spinal cord, and no matter what supernatural mojo the fucker was channeling, it was all she wrote. “Get away from the lady.”
The reaction was instantaneous and so not what he expected. Far from the damsel in distress swooning gratefully at his timely intervention, Laney shot him an irritated glance.
“Troy, will you fuck off? The monsters are playing here.” As if to underline her point, she threw the now-empty fruit bowl at the creature. It hit the creature up the side of the head with a clang, and shattered on the floor. The Lycan snarled, whipping its head around to focus on her again.
“Come on,” she snarled back, spinning those strange blades of hers over the back of her hands. The look on her face was determined, with a dark edge that sent a shiver along Troy’s spine. His jaw dropped, mouth opening like a guppy’s, as she advanced on the beast.
She met the creature head on, bellowing with rage. The blades in her hands flashed as she landed blow after blow. Silver shimmered along the wicked edges. Within seconds, the shine was gone, replaced by dark wetness.
Troy’s hand wavered, trying to pick a clean shot, but she was everywhere, dancing around the Lycan like a prima ballerina. What the hell was she? She moved like nothing he’d ever seen before, lethality and grace wrapped in one kick-ass package.
Spinning, she sliced downward and the Were roared in pain. Blood splattered over a cupboard door, a gory pattern that was almost beautiful. He spotted an opening, lifted his arm to take the shot. The retort of the gun rang out twice, the sound near deafening in the enclosed space of the kitchen. The bullets thudded into thick fur, the creature jerking with each one. Dark, wet patches spread out like flowers blossoming, but the thing didn’t drop like he expected.
And it needed to go down before it took another swipe at Laney. Sure, she was shit-hot with those blades, and fast as all hell, but it would only take one mis-step and... His heart clenched in fear, he didn’t even want to think about it.
“For fuck’s sake, would you die already,” Troy snarled, stepping into the room.
“Stay out!” Laney yelled, but it was too late.
He pulled the trigger again, aiming for the back of the thing’s head. With a preternatural speed, it ducked, the slug slamming into the cupboard behind it. The creature turned its head and fixed him with a yellow stare. He swallowed, fear rooting him to the spot for a second before he fought it off. Damn that whole human “freeze, flight, fight” response. He was so going for fighting, every time.
“Get out of here,” Laney bellowed, and Troy’s world became something out of a fantasy film. Her voice deepened somehow at the end of the sentence, becoming more. Bigger. Like the sound of a thousand men screaming in pain on a battlefield, or the near silent rattle of a terminal illness as it claimed its victim.
He blinked as she vaulted over the island counter, the petite woman he saw overlaid with something else. Something that wore a robe, the hood shadowed with a darkness every cell in his body told him he didn’t want to look into. The small blades in her hands lengthened, became a scythe between one blink and the next.
Her booted foot lashed out and up, catching the Lycan under the chin with a click and a crunch as his mouth was forced closed before the jaw broke. With a wordless bellow, she crossed her arms, slashing the small-again blades up and outwards. The lethally-sharp, curved edges caressed the sides of the furry throat before they disappeared within, parting fur, skin, and flesh with ease.
“Ya!” Movement complete, Laney kicked out, blades down and dripping gore as she planted a small foot in the center of the creature’s chest and sent it backward. It toppled like a tree and hit the tiled floor. The ruined mess of its throat chose that moment to give, as though it hadn’t realized yet that she’d cut through from ear to ear, and dumped the contents of its circulatory system on his kitchen floor.
He looked at the body, wide-eyed, and jumped as it shuddered.
“Shit, it’s still alive!” He jerked his gun back up, determined to empty the damn thing into it if necessary, but a small hand on his arm stopped him.
“No, it’s dead. Watch.”
Sure enough, the jerk was followed by a popping and cracking. The body wriggled and danced like a marionette with broken strings. The fur slid back, disappearing into the skin with a sharp snick. His mouth dropped open again as the wolf-form morphed back into that of the youth he’d warned in the bar.
“Shiiit, never seen that before,” he breathed, looking sideways at her, and his breath caught. Dressed in vest, panties and boots, and plastered with blood, she was still the most breath-taking thing he’d ever seen. Even if he had seen a brief glimpse of her other nature, the one that meant he wasn’t sure if he needed to protect her, or run from her, the little ache in the middle of his chest grew.
“What are you?”
She smiled, a little enigmatic tilt of the lips that sealed the deal for Troy. With a shock he realized he was utterly, head over heels, in love.
“If what I think is happening in this town is really happening sweetheart, I might be the only hope you got.”
About the Author
Mina Carter is a bestselling, multi-genre author. She lives in the UK with her husband, daughter and a bossy cat.
Connect with Mina online:
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Links to my other books
Strathstow Sharks Series
Hitting on the Hooker
Seduced by the Scrum-Half
Paranormal Protection Agency Series
Dragon’s Honor (PPA #6)
Paranormal Protection Agency, Volume one (Bundle, books 1-5)
Project Rebellion Series
Blood Mate
Perfect Mate
Lyric Hounds Series
<
br /> Wolf-Bond
Melody’s Wolf
Standalone Novels/Novellas
Seducing the Sergeant
Hedging his Bets (with Celia Kyle)
Reaper
For a full list, please visit http://mina-carter.com/bookshelf/
Enjoy the following excerpt from Dragon’s Honor
Being called into the boss’s office was nothing new for Duke and Baron. Being called in for something other than a bollocking was.
“You sure she said we weren’t in trouble?” Baron rumbled, the deep note of his dragon evident in his voice as he slouched in the chair next to Duke and glowered at his reflection in the window opposite. Given the nature of the agency’s work the PPA offices were open twenty-four-seven, so the window looked out onto the darkness of night.
Duke cast a glance the same way. Twins whose adoptive parents had decided that noble names would give their kids something to aspire to, they weren’t identical, not in human form anyway. As humans they looked alike, obviously brothers but that was where it ended. It was only in their shifted forms that they were truly identical. Whether or not that was the way with shadow-dragons, he had no idea. Dumped on the steps of a hospital when they were days old, they’d never met their parents, nor indeed any others of their kind. It had only been their adoptive father’s research that had given them a name for what they were. Seemed that shadow-dragons were as rare as rocking horse shit, so getting more info was a no-go. Story of their lives.
“Apparently not.” Duke shrugged. “She just said she wanted to talk to us about a job.”
He reached up, caught his hair at the nape of his neck and snapped the band from his wrist around it in a low pony-tail. Unsnapping a second he held it out to his brother. Baron glared at it as if it were a venomous snake. Curling his lip, he took it and caught his own hair back. Duke nodded in approval as he studied their reflections in the window. At least they looked presentable now. Kind of.
“Why?” He slid a sideways glance at Duke. His brother was way too quiet. Which meant he was thinking, which never led anywhere good, or he had done something, which also never led anywhere good. Especially since their last job had been at a house with stables. Stables with horses. Horses which, as far as Duke was concerned, were just steaks on legs and Duke sure as hell liked steak. He also hadn’t bugged the shit out of Baron to stop for pizza on the way to the offices, a fact that hadn’t occurred to Baron until just now.
“Please tell me you didn’t snack at the Jenkins.”
Duke turned to look at him and…yes, there it was. The wide-eyed, oh-so-innocent look that was completely believable to everyone but Baron. His breath punched out of his lungs in a hiss just as Iliona’s door opened.
“Keep shut and let me do the talking,” he ordered as the slender form of their boss was outlined in the door.
Iliona was human, which meant small and delicate. Where the agency was concerned though, she had balls of steel and would face down even the scariest of the paras. No one argued, not if they wanted a job. Work could be hard to come by if you were a paranormal, especially without the backing of an established pack like the wolves, and old money like the vamps. Hell, even the elves were organized, but dragons? Nada. Those that had to work were relegated to niche jobs or, Duke shuddered, construction. He fucking hated construction work. The agency had changed all that for them. Within five minutes of walking into the front office in desperation, they’d been hired and hadn’t looked back. Just sideways and up, normally while Iliona was shouting at them because Duke had eaten yet another family pet.
This time though, the little human’s face was wreathed in a smile. It looked good on her. Quickly Baron shut down that train of thought. He might be a dragon, and rather hard to kill, but that didn’t mean he was suicidal. All the guys working for the agency, whatever their species, knew the boss was in a triad with the two gargoyles, Cal and Gran, neither of whom would hesitate to prove exactly why gargoyles referred to other species as ‘squishable’.
“Just in time.” Iliona stood to one side of the door and waved them forward. “Come on in, sit down. I’ve got something I want to run by you.”
Like naughty schoolboys, the two brothers filed into the office with Baron, as always, in the lead. Clocking a stranger in the room, he stopped, and Duke walked smack into the back of him. Absorbing the impact with a soft grunt, he cast a swift glance over the guy—suited, booted, and human by the smell of him—then rolled his gaze to Iliona.
“Ahh, yes.” She hurried forward, putting herself between the dragons and the human. Their dislike of strangers, particularly human strangers, was well known. “This is Detective Hammond, he’s with the local police department. Detective Hammond, can I introduce you to Duke and Baron, two of our best operatives.”
Baron’s eyebrow rose at her praise. That certainly wasn’t what she’d called them the last time they’d wound up in here, shuffling their feet like kids summoned to the headmaster’s office. What she’d called them then would’ve made a marine blush.
He turned from glaring at his brother to find the detective on his feet, hand out to shake. Duke ignored it, taking one of the seats behind them without a word. No surprise there. Duke wasn’t a talker at the best of times. Baron shook the guy’s hand, offering a small, polite smile he didn’t feel. Humans and their damn rituals.
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr…?” The detective let his words trail off in question.
“No mister. Just Baron.”
“Not all of our operatives are human, Detective.” Iliona chimed in. “And not all of them are comfortable giving their full names if, indeed, they have more than one.”
“They’d have to have a surname if they went through the education system, or if you’re employing them.” Confusion flowed over Hammond’s features as he did that little trouser hitch the experienced suit-wearer adopted to stop their pants creasing and sat down. Baron slumped into the chair next to Duke, not caring if his well-worn jeans got creased or not.
Boss-lady smiled from the other side of the desk, her hands folded over the file in front of her. The expression didn’t reach her eyes, and the scent rolling from her betrayed her irritation with the male. Not that he’d be able to pick that up with his dull senses.
“That would be true,” she replied. “If we paid them in money.”
Hammond blinked, looking between her and the two brothers. “No money? What do you pay them with then?”
“Cows.” Baron’s voice rang with relish as he picked up on the cue. “Live ones for us to roast. They taste better that way.”
“Oh…right.” Hammond’s skin had turned a strange shade of purple-green. Baron wasn’t sure if he was about to be sick or explode in rage. “Uhm, as long as you slaughter them humanely in accordance with city laws.”
“Of course.” Baron’s nodding was echoed by his brother, the movement visible in the corner of his eye. “All by the book.”
Yeah, right. If Hammond was dumb enough to believe that, he’d believe anything. Ignoring the human, Baron transferred his attention back to Iliona.
“You wanted to see us about something, boss-lady?”
“Indeed.” She flipped open the file in front of her. “I have a job for you. If you’re interested.”
Both brothers were all attention. Until now they’d worked in a team with others, so for Iliona to call them in on their own was a big thing, especially considering Duke’s choice in snacks.
“Yeah, we’re interested.” Duke ground out, surprising Baron. His brother didn’t like to speak, leaving all the talking to his brother instead, so for him to say something showed just how eager he was for the two of them to get their own gig. Not that they didn’t like working in a team with the rest of the guys. They couldn’t wish for a better team leader than Zane. A were himself, he was more than aware of the pros and cons of their nature. Even if he was a wolf rather than a dragon, he was good people as far as the brothers were concerned. At the very least, Duke hadn’t t
ried to rip Zane’s head off yet, which was a positive declaration of ever-lasting friendship as far as the grumpy dragon was concerned.
“Excellent.” Iliona didn’t bat an eyelid at Duke speaking. “It’s a protection detail, but with a twist….”
Baron sank down in his chair at that. Close protection could be fun, but it could also be an utter pain in the ass if the primary was a fucking idiot. Most were. Man or woman, he didn’t care which, both genders were just as bad for diva-ish behavior.
She slid a photo across the table to them. Duke picked it up first, whistling in the back of his throat in appreciation, the high note one only Baron could hear, before handing it across. He took it from his brother and looked, his eyes widening. The image was covert surveillance, somewhat grainy but the subject was clear. A brunette in a wrap dress just getting out of a limo. The photographer had caught her mid-movement, the pose highlighting the length of one curvy leg as her skirt rode high on her thigh, and the bodice of the dress pulled across a rack to make any guy’s mouth water. Large Jackie-O style sunglasses covered her face, concealing her age, but poise and sophistication wrapped around her like a second skin. The sort of confidence a woman didn’t attain until she was at least thirty. He huffed. Socialite born and bred. Probably a diva to boot.
“So what’s the catch?” He handed the photo back to Iliona. There had to be one. She looked way too normal and in his experience, normal didn’t happen in the agency’s line of work. “Let me guess, she’s a Medusa…or a harpy?”
Iliona reached out to take the photo back. “No catch, and neither. She’s as human as they come.”
Baron’s brows creased. He didn’t like riddles so Iliona’s evasive answers were beginning to piss him off. That and the heavy stink of Hammond’s aftershave made his nose itch. “Okay, so what’s the twist?”
