The Devil's Russian Beauty

by Ana Lee Kennedy

  “He loves you so much he’d actually take the moon down and give it to you if that’s what you wanted,” Luella said with conviction. “But it’s not my place to tell you what’s bothering him. One thing you must understand is that we’ve known each other since we were youngsters struggling through our lycan hormonal shifts. We’ve seen each other at our worst and our best. We’re even related by mate-laws—what humans call in-laws—and yes, we’ve pleasured each other but never through fucking because we knew we were friends, not lovers. I’m still that same friend to him, so he continues to confide in me.”

  Luella cupped one side of Bernadette’s face and stared into her eyes so hard that Bernadette could’ve sworn she’d seen the woman’s she-wolf pass through her blue eyes.

  “Just know that Frank will tell you in time, and when he does, it’s nothing bad, but it is a big decision, one you will have to make, not him.” She smiled. “Okay? Believe me?”

  Shame visited Bernadette, heating her face and peppering the swell of her breasts with warmth too. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

  “It’s only natural, honey.” With a gesture, Luella indicated Bernadette should follow her down the staircase. “You’re a human among the lykoi. Our cultures, traditions, rules, laws and so much more are completely different from the human world. You’re learning as you go along, and you will continue to learn.” At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped with Bernadette and looked at her again. “It will get easier, but there’s two things you must start doing.”

  “Such as?” She waited eagerly, hoping for something that would smooth her guilt and help her mate.

  “Stop jumping to conclusions, like I just told you, and start asking questions. Don’t be afraid to fire questions at me, Phil, Puppy—most of all Frank. It’s the only way you’ll learn and the only way to avoid misunderstandings that could potentially hurt people.”

  Nodding vigorously, Bernadette replied, “You’re right, Luella. And I’m very sorry for thinking the worst.”

  “All water under the bridge now.” Leaning over, Luella kissed her on the forehead. “You’re my friend, Bernadette. In truth, I adore you.”

  Shocked, Bernadette could find no words.

  “I had a little sister once upon a time,” Luella answered her unspoken question. “She was hunted by a Vanquisher and shot with a silver bullet through the heart.”

  Bernadette frowned, canting her head. “Vanquisher?”

  “A person who hunts down and kills anyone of supernatural origin as well as cryptids—creatures thought to exist but without true evidence that they actually do. My sister never had a chance.” Her gaze grew distant, her eyes shimmering wetly for an instant, then, just as quickly as it was there, it vanished. “You remind me a lot of her, and I don’t give compliments lightly.” She offered Bernadette a watery smile. “You have the same keen mind as she had, the same quick smile, and a fiery personality similar to my sister’s.”

  Touched, Bernadette asked, “What was her name?”

  “Charlotte—Charlotte Dawn. She was 16 when she died, ten years younger than me.” She fluttered her eyelashes a few times as she returned to reality and finally banished the deepening glassiness that kept clouding her eyes. “So be smart and talk to us when something bothers you, okay?”

  “I will.” On impulse, Bernadette hugged her friend, who hugged her back just as tightly. “I promise, Luella.”

  “Good.” She took her by the hand. “Now, go sit yourself in the dining room. I’ll turn the Wi-Fi on, then make a fresh pot of coffee for you. I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”

  A weight lifted from Bernadette’s shoulders. Now, if only she could find a way to protect Frank, her mother, Luella and everyone here at the MC and its community below whom she’d come to care for deeply.

  * * *

  Daffi wiped the last of the syrup on her plate with her final bite of fluffy pancake, then forked it into her mouth. Phil hadn’t answered her question about him being a werewolf, having spilled batter down the front of his shirt. He’d left her to go change, but she figured his silence was answer enough. It didn’t bother her that he was a shape-shifter. She’d seen many of the River Rebels change, especially when there was a full moon and they all met behind the MC and stripped before shifting into huge, hairy beast men to lope into the woods for a night of hunting. Most of the sheep knew nothing about who or what they were truly living with at the club, but Daffi had seen worse. And his name was Ezra.

  She shivered and rose to wash her plate and fork in the sink. Done, she poured herself another cup of piping-hot coffee, then seated herself at the kitchen isle again. Phil emerged from the bedroom. Shirtless, he held a pocket T-shirt in one hand and his cut in the other. Mouth falling open, Daffi could only stare at the hard lines of his pecs and abs. The man was lean in all the right places, his muscles hard, sinewy, defined. Saliva filled her mouth. She swallowed. As he approached, the pink scar of a puncture wound caught her attention. Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “Were you shot?”

  He halted, as if he’d forgotten she was there, his startled gaze zipping to her face. “What? Oh, yeah. Bernadette shot me.”

  “What?” Holy shit, what had Phil done to make Bernadette shoot him? Maybe she should reevaluate her earlier assumptions about the redhead.

  He shrugged. “It was accidental. Happened during the Claiming and Maiming.”

  Daffi didn’t pursue the fact that he was a werewolf. It seemed to make him uneasy, as if he wasn’t sure he could trust her. After all, he knew very little about her, so she understood how he might be feeling.

  He slipped his T-shirt on, followed by his cut, the patch boasting what he was, but no one who saw it would be the wiser. Clever.

  She’d always heard the Werewolves of Rebellion were weak. They never manufactured or sold drugs and they didn’t deal in trafficking of any sort. She’d seen how people in Rebellion greeted the Werewolves of Rebellion with a smile and respect, whereas the River Rebels and even the Wraithkillers were given a wide berth in town or treated with disdain—something she’d experienced many times as a sheep.

  As Phil pulled on his work boots, she admired how his jeans molded to his ass. No baggy pants or drooping for him. Oh, no. Her fingers itched to touch him, which surprised her since sex, for her, had become a duty and a bore over the years.

  Once he had his boots on, he straightened and walked over to the counter to pour himself another cup of coffee.

  Suddenly realizing he was prepared to go somewhere, she asked, “Are you leaving me here alone?”

  “No.” He slowly rotated to face her, then leaned his hips against the counter edge, the power screen’s blue glow on the Mr. Coffee behind him bright next to his black T-shirt. “But I do have to work second shift, so unless you want to stay here alone, I’ll have to take you to the club so you’ll have protection.”

  The mug in her hand wobbled as she lifted it to her mouth. She almost dropped the cup. “Me? Go to the Werewolves of Rebellion MC?” She gaped at him, still holding her coffee in midair. “Is there something wrong with you?”

  At that, a big guffaw burst from him.

  “What’s so funny?” She stared at him suspiciously.

  “The Werewolves of Rebellion are not a one-percenter MC, Daffodil. We’re different. We’re not normal in the least, so I guess something is wrong with me, but not in bad way.”

  He laughed again, more softly this time. The sound crept into her ears and traveled down into her body to caress her insides. She shivered and set her cup down.

  “I don’t trust this Ezra Smith. Even when Hudson gets out of prison, I’ll bet money Smith doesn’t let him take over.” He sipped his coffee, his expression thoughtful. “And if Smith’s involved in human trafficking like you say, then he’s even more dangerous.”

  “I helped three people escape last night,” she blurted. “Well, me and Jess did. Two women and a young boy. I dropped them off at the sheriff’s department, then d
rove away.” Nervousness assailed her. What if he thought she was terrible for simply driving off as she had? “I felt like such a coward for just driving away like that, but I didn’t want Ezra to know we were the ones who helped them.”

  “Don’t you think he’ll figure it out when he realizes your disappearance coincides with theirs?” He stood waiting, as if he expected her to reply with someone profound.

  “Shit.” She slumped and covered her face with her hands, bracing her elbows on the island’s top.

  “What you and Jess did took major brass balls.” His boots clumped on the hardwood floor, then he placed a hand on either of her arms, cupping the sides of her elbows, his palms warm, rough. “But if you thought Ezra would be pissed at you for leaving,” he added, his breath warm on her hands where he leaned close, “he’ll be a hundred times more pissed at the knowledge that you cost him a shipment which equals big money.”

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispered.

  “Hey,” he said forcefully, snapping her attention back up to him. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, understand?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Good. Now go get dressed,” he told her. “Bring your backpack in case we stay at the MC tonight.”

  “Everyone there will hate me,” she said, placing her hands over her face.

  “The women will accept you without prejudice,” he replied, his tone soothing. “Trust me. Our…clans…don’t function in the way of humans.” He pulled her hands aside. “And you look so weak that it’ll make me feel better if someone is keeping an eye on you. Are you ill, honey?”

  She shook her head. “It’s what Ezra does to me.”

  He frowned, his gaze ominous.

  “He’s not human,” she said. “I meant it when I told you that he’s a demon. He uses me, makes me…you know. When I don’t want him or when I think there’s no way I can come, somehow, he makes me anyway. It’s scary. And he doesn’t let up. He fucked me over and over for hours this last time, then, when he knew I was hanging on by a thread, he finally left me alone yesterday morning.” To her surprise, hot tears began dripping from her chin, her eyes stinging with more that kept slipping free. “I slept like the dead until evening. When I woke, I realized Ezra would return soon, so that’s when I managed enough strength to gather my things and leave with Jess. I hadn’t planned to set those slaves free, but we passed through the warehouse and I just couldn’t leave them behind in those cages. Who knows what horrible life would lie ahead of them.”

  “You had more strength than you realized, baby,” he said and kissed her. “You had the strength of Hercules to do what you did, and I’m proud of you.”

  Gripping her elbows tighter, he kissed her again, more forcefully, and, to her delight, much longer. He ravaged her mouth. Tickling the seam of her lips with his tongue, he asked for admittance, and she allowed him access. The way he kissed stole her breath, but she reveled in the lack of air, pushing toward him, needed more. Their tongues danced together for a few seconds, then Phil broke the kiss, leaving her senses spinning pleasantly, her blood thundering in her ears. In wonderment, she smiled at him. No one in all her years of being a sweetbutt had made her senses spiral out of control like that.

  “Go on,” he said a little breathlessly. “Get dressed, grab your stuff and we’ll leave in about 15 minutes.”

  She slid off the stool and crossed the cabin on unsteady legs. For the first time ever, hope filled her.

  In the bedroom, she quickly made the bed, then gathered her meager belongings to stuff them down into the open top of her pack. She gathered the clothes she’d worn the night before and donned them again. Once she’d put her boots on and picked up her jacket, she hooked one hand in the knapsack’s strap and headed out to meet Phil, who stood waiting at the door, a light coat with the Werewolves of Rebellion’s patch on the back of it.

  “I’d love to put you on the back of my Harley,” he said wistfully, “but the weather is just too cold.” He opened the door and shoved the screen back so she could step out. “I guess I’ll have to garage the ol’ girl, but waiting for warm weather to ride her again always seems like forever.”

  The way he said “to ride her again” carried an edge of seduction that urged a shiver through Daffi. It settled in her pussy, where it throbbed, surprising her with its power. Phil took her pack in one hand and walked with her down the wooden steps and across the flagstones leading to the driveway where his pickup sat. He opened the passenger door, then, once she was safely in, he closed it and got in on the other side after he stowed her backpack in the truck bed.

  He drove along the creek road in silence. Now and then he’d glance over at her, but he didn’t ask any questions or try to pump her for information about the River Rebels as Daffi had expected. It was enough that she was with Phil, and her nerves about facing his MC began to abate slightly. If he was adamant she’d be safe there and that the women would accept her without question, then she believed him.

  At the covered bridge, Phil turned right and headed up a steep hill, then at the top of it, he made a left and drove along a ridge that provided a stunning view across the plateaus.

  Daffi had begun to relax and enjoy the ride when Phil announced, “This is it. This is the gate to our MC and its community.” He turned into the lane and stopped. Putting the truck in neutral, he held his foot on the brake. “I trust you, Daffodil. I don’t know why, but I do. Regardless, I’m going out on a limb here for you.”

  “I know.” She met his dark, warm gaze and comfort oozed into her being. “I won’t betray you or your MC. I know the Werewolves of Rebellion aren’t an outlaw gang, but I’m sure there are still penalties for betrayal, just not in the way outlaws do it. If I would screw up—which I won’t, I promise—I will accept whatever punishment Frank Nightshade would decide to give me.” She drew a big, shaky breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Phil reached over and clasped her hand resting on the bench seat.

  “It’s just that this is truly a new beginning for me,” she replied, cursing the tremor in her voice. “I’ve never had a new start before.”

  “Fuck, honey. What sort of life have you had?”

  She offered him a watery look. “A rough one.”

  He squeezed her hand, then released it to put the truck in gear. “Well, then let’s get this new beginning started so you can begin a good life.” He glanced over at her. “Hopefully with me in it.”

  She glanced out the passenger window and blinked tears away. “That sounds awesome.”

  The ride through the MC’s farmland had her in awe. The property was beautiful, right down to the nearly naked orchard trees. She found the community quaint, but the big Victorian house on the hilltop captured her imagination. What stories that house must have of the people who had lived there since its construction.

  Once they reached the main house, the big Nightshade’s Wolves sign on the side of a workshop caught her attention. She’d heard Frank and some of his members were well known for manufacturing custom-made motorcycles. Some of the River Rebels coveted such a machine, but they knew the real price of buying from a rival gang.

  Phil stopped and shut off the truck. He hopped out and walked around to her side, where he helped her exit, then reached into the pickup bed to snag her pack.

  A very tall, very dark-eyed, dark-haired man emerged from a screened-in porch and stood glowering at Phil. Daffodil had seen Frank a couple times, but the last was when he’d been at the Wraithkillers to swap guns for Luella’s return and had left with Bernadette in tow too. He commanded respect. Daffodil looked at her feet, keeping her head bowed, and waited.

  “I’m assuming you have a valid reason for bringing one of the River Rebels sweetbutts here?” Frank stated, his deep voice rumbling across the concrete carport.

  “Without a doubt,” Phil replied firmly. He grasped Daffi’s elbow. “It’s okay, Daffodil, really.”

  “If Phil is vouching for you,” Frank’s said, “then that’s good enou
gh for me. Welcome, Daffi.”

  She jerked her head up at the use of her name. She hadn’t suspected he might know who she was. Why would he? She was nobody…unless Bernadette had been telling him about her, but why would the redhead do that?

  A hulking shadow crossed the screens from the inside, followed by the door swinging open and a giant of a man who stepped out. Bald, but with a big, blond beard, he almost dwarfed Frank. “What’s going on out here?”

  “Looks like Phil has brought home a stray,” Frank answered. He motioned to them. “Come on, Phil. Bring her in and tell us what’s going on.”

  Despite Phil’s promise that she’d be accepted, an earthquake began in Daffi’s heart and shook her all the way to the soles of her feet. She leaned heavily against Phil.

  “It’s okay, babe,” he soothed. “I promise.”

  Daffi trusted him. She didn’t know why other than an innate sense told her that she could put her life in his hands. She looked up at him, and he smiled reassuringly.

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  As they filed inside, the sound of crunching gravel drew everyone’s attention. Daffi turned to look, but froze in fear as the county police cruiser topped the hill to pull up onto the carport. Dizziness assailed her. Was she in trouble because she hadn’t gone into the sheriff’s office with the abductees?

  “Judging by the look on her face”—Frank jerked his head in Daffi’s direction—“I’m guessing Craig is here because she’s mixed up in something?”

  “No,” Phil said. “It’s not Daffi. It’s the information that she has.”

  “Information about—?” Realization widened Frank’s eyes. “The human trafficking you mentioned.”

  “Yes,” Daffi answered. “I helped a few people escape last night. Am I in trouble because I left them without going in to the county sheriff’s office without explaining?”