Lycan on the Edge: Broken Heart Book 13 Page 6

  Trent joined Nana to have a hushed conservation. The alcohol dulled her werewolf senses, so she only heard bits and pieces. Or maybe it Nana’s outrageous behavior had caused a brain aneurysm. She concentrated her hearing on their voices and managed to pick up some of what they were saying.

  You said blah, blah, blah of her comfort zone.

  I didn’t mean you should blah, blah get arrested in Las Vegas.

  Well, it worked, didn’t it?

  “What are you two talking about?” she called. “Whose comfort zone?”

  “Mine.” Nana settled onto the corner of the bed. “Look. All is well, okay? I should’ve known tequila would lead me down the wrong path. Especially after that time I got naked and rode your grandfather through the forest. Oh, he was such a handsome werewolf. Strong, too.” She paused, lost in the fond memory. Then she snapped back to the present and added, “Those campers sure were startled.”

  “Nana—”

  “Hold that thought. I gotta pee.” Nana disappeared into the bathroom.

  “My grandmother is a floozy and a drunk.”

  “You should probably add brawler to that list, too.”

  Trent poured more rum into her glass. She liked the nice warm feeling in her tummy and sighed. “Grandpa’s probably rolling over in his grave.”

  “Henry’s laughing his ass off,” interrupted Nana as she exited the bathroom. She plopped onto the bed once more. “He always said I had a great right hook.”

  Trent took the chair opposite of Sophie. “Virginia, why don’t you tell what happened tonight from the beginning?”

  “We went to the Ultimate Bingo tournament, just like I said. Turns out it was full of old people. So Betty Lee and I beat feet and went to the blackjack tables.” She waggled her brows. “That’s where the young stud muffins are.”

  Nana poured out the rest of the tale, though in a disjointed way with a lot of irrelevant tangents. Seemed like the tequila had pickled her brain.

  “So Betty Lee wanted to marry Elvis, and you protested this by smacking him with his toupee?” Sophie rubbed her temples as she tried to understand Nana’s convoluted and strange story. Her only relief stemmed from the fact that at least Nana wasn’t the one who got married.

  “No, I smacked him with the preacher’s toupee. It had fallen on the floor after he was knocked unconscious from the flying cherub statue.”

  “Wait. You left that part out. You struck a man of God with a stone cherub?”

  “Of course not! Elvis’ former fiancée did that. She stormed into the chapel, heaved the thing right off the stand, and threw it at Howard. He ducked...well, you can guess the rest.”

  “Then Howard had you thrown in jail for hitting him with some fake hair?” Sophie turned and looked at Trent, who sat next to her. He was having a difficult time maintaining his composure. His cheeks kept puffing out as he held his laughter in check; then he’d choke it all down. Tears trickled out of his eyes.

  “Well, he tripped over my foot,” admitted Nana. “It was an accident, but he wailed like a newborn baby when he went down. Came up cussing because he broke a cap. Apparently Elvis impersonators are very picky about having perfect choppers.”

  Sophie closed her eyes, took a fortifying breath, and opened her eyes again. “Why did you hit Howard?”

  “I already told you that I didn’t know Howard’s perverted friend had pinched my behind. Howard was standing next to me, and the other old coot had high-tailed it to the end of the bench. Mind you, this was in the middle of Howard’s ex-girlfriend’s hissy fit.” Nana sniffed. “It was a little mistake on my part.”

  Trent wiped his eyes, sucking in breaths. Sophie reached over and pinched his arm. He pressed his lips together, his face reddening as he attempted to hold himself in check.

  “After we got out of jail, the actual wedding was almost anti-climatic. Well, unless you count the fact that Howard dressed in white bell-bottoms and diamond-studded glasses. He sang a nice ditty after the ceremony. Betty Lee did seem happy.”

  Nana got to her feet and stretched her arms. “Betty Lee and I got adjoining rooms. Since she’s not using it, I’ll sleep in hers. You two take this one.” She looked at Sophie. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know Howard would drop the charges. He was pretty upset about the tooth.” She smiled and chucked Sophie under the chin. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  “Good night all.”

  Trent and Sophie said their good nights. Once Nana had left, Sophie suddenly realized she was alone in a hotel room that only had one queen-sized bed.

  “We’re adults,” said Trent, following her train of thought. “We’ll each take a side and get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

  “The longest day ever.” Sophie was so tired, which made it easier to care less about sleeping arrangements. Still, being close to Trent and not touching his yummy body might difficult. Even so, she took the left side of the bed, tucked herself under the comforter, and closed her eyes.

  The last thing she heard was the snick of the light switch being turned off and the rustle of sheets as Trent joined her.

  * * *

  “YOU WANT ME to what?” asked Meckenzie.

  “Be the key to unlocking Broken Heart,” repeated Ena the Evil.

  “I thought your big, bad monsters were going to crash through its barriers and—how did you put it?—oh yeah, crush your enemies.”

  “I’ve opted for a more subtle approach.”

  Ha. Ena wouldn’t know subtle if it bit her on the ass. The truth was that Ena had been freaked out since she’d found the first Alberich she’d raised in Oregon dead as a fucking doornail.

  The weirdest thing, though, was that he’d been turned to stone and broken into pieces.

  Now Ena was worried that she’d underestimated Broken Heart’s security measures. Apparently, the know-it-all didn’t actually know it all. The fact that an Alberich could be killed hadn’t hindered Ena’s plot, but the witch decided to re-assess the situation. The easiest way for her and her monsters to get into town was to have someone unlock the door, so to speak, from the inside.

  That would be me. Meckenzie stared at the campfire. What she wouldn’t give for a hotel room, a hot bath, and a bottle of Jack Daniels. Day eleventy-hundred of being Ena’s bitch. God, she was tired of the witch’s bullshit. Being a thief was one thing. She could live with that. Being the asshole who started a parakind war? Not so much.

  “Do this one thing for me, and your mother’s soul is yours.”

  Meckenzie had heard that promise before. “You’re only saying that because you’re hoping I’ll get killed before you have to honor your word.”

  “So what? I mean it this time.”

  “Then take the witch’s oath.”

  Ena grimaced, but she pulled her personal book of shadows out of her rucksack. “C’mon. Put your hand on it.”

  Meckenzie did so with some amount of trepidation. Ena draped her fingers over Meckenzie’s and said, “I hereby give my oath to release Mary Braith’s soul to her one and only daughter, Meckenzie, after she fulfills the bargain made to me this day.”

  She looked up at Meckenzie. “Do you swear to gain entrance to Broken Heart and allow me and the Alberich to enter the town unimpeded?”

  “I swear.” As if she had any real choice in the matter.

  Meckenzie tried to wiggle out of Ena’s grasp, but the witch clamped her hand down pressing her palm painfully against the bumpy ridges of the book’s cover.

  “Your life is forfeited if I do not succeed.” Her grin showed pure evil. “So mote it be!”

  Black magic curled up from the book and twisted around Meckenzie and the witch’s hands. Heat blazed from the strands. It felt like Meckenzie was being branded. But she didn’t scream. Wouldn’t give Ena the satisfaction.

  Finally, when she could, Meckenzie yanked away. Her skin looked normal. No burns or blisters. “What the fuck!”

  “Oh for—there’s no pleasing you! You should be happ
y I made the bargain.”

  “Color me thrilled,” Meckenzie said through gritted teeth. She curled her hands into fists and pressed them against her sides so she wouldn’t punch Ena in the throat. “Get going,” said Ena.

  “Sure. I’ll just lope out of the forest and hitch a ride to an invisible town in nowhere Oklahoma.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Ena’s gaze burned into hers. “Don’t fail me. Your life depends on it.”

  Meckenzie flipped her the bird, and marched away, hunching her shoulders as though that would stave off the witch’s cackle.

  Evil sucked.

  Chapter Seven

  THE SOFT RAIN pelted the Oregon forest, and Sophie lifted her face to enjoy the light splash of water on her skin. She’d been out here for a couple of hours and had gathered numerous herbs and flowers. The trip had been a good one, and she found herself enjoying the bounty of nature. Being alone here, now, was pure freedom. The smells of wet earth and the sharp scent of pine infiltrated her senses.

  She couldn’t resist.

  She undressed, placing her clothes in the waterproof backpack she’d brought with her to store the herbs and her lunch.

  It took only a few moments to shift, and then she was a wolf.

  She explored the forest with all her senses, yipping happily, romping. She followed the myriad of scents that abounded in such a spectacular place. Refreshed, she loped toward the spot where she’d left her things.

  Solid, hot pain struck her back, and she flattened against the earth, howling in agony.

  She hadn’t smelled, heard, or seen anything, but as she scurried on all fours and limped away, the attacker appeared before her.

  The creature lifted its massive head and screamed. In its clawed hand was a silver blade like none she’d ever seen. It looked like some crazy fire poker with a narrow end and two slightly curved attachments. She could smell the singed fur and burned flesh.

  Pain shuddered through her, but she kept her feet.

  The creature swung its weapon once more, and somehow she found the strength to snarl. She snapped at it and sank her teeth into its calf.

  The monster’s bellow echoed through the forest.

  It fell to its knees and then sideways, its cries fading as the light went out of its dark eyes.

  Sophie fell onto her side, panting, trembling.

  Painful as it was, she began the shift.

  Then she heard a cracking sound.

  “Sophie. Sweetheart? C’mon. It’s all right.”

  Sophie woke up, her heart racing.

  Trent lay next to her, his fingertips resting on her forehead. The lamp had been turned on, and the low light shined on the twisted covers.

  “You’re okay,” he said.

  “Nightmares.” She sat up, her body shivering. “Ever since the Alberich attack.”

  “You want to tell me what happened?”

  “I don’t know.” Sophie put her face on his shoulder, accepting his comfort gratefully. “He attacked. I bit him on the calf. And…then I passed out.”

  Trent stilled. Then he gently took her chin and tilted her head. “Did you kill him?”

  “How could I? When no one else ever has.”

  “That’s not entirely true.” Trent brushed strands of hair off her face. “There was a weapon, of sorts. It’s how we rid the world of them the first time. Or at least we thought we had.”

  He traced a line from her temple to her chin, and Sophie felt electrified.

  “Trent.” His name echoed with her need for him.

  He laid her on the bed and rolled to his side. His fingers trailed down her arms. She shivered at the light touches. When his hand coasted down to her thigh, she let out a soft moan.

  “I want you,” he said. “So much.”

  Her answer was easy. She sat up and took off her shirt. Her pink lace bra was a thin barrier, and hunger licked at her when she saw Trent’s gaze darken. He cupped her breasts, sweeping his thumbs over her hardening nipples. She discarded the bra, baring her breasts for him.

  “You are truly magnificent,” he said. The evidence of his desire strained against his jeans.

  Pleased, she lay back down. His hands slid down her abdomen, and he unbuttoned her jeans. She shoved them off her hips, throwing them to the floor.

  Trent took off his clothes, all but his boxers, and joined her once more. The intensity of her desire, of her need for Trent, thrilled her. Scared her. His gaze was on hers, and he watched her face as he touched her, noting what made her moan, what made her hot.

  He cupped her breasts, bending to grasp a turgid nipple in his mouth. His warm tongue laved and suckled, and Sophie felt an almost painful pleasure, and then he gave the same treatment to the other nipple.

  “You taste good,” he said against her skin, licking the flesh between her breasts, trailing his eager tongue to her collarbone. Sophie’s lips found the shell of his ear, the strong column of his neck, the underside of his jaw. She adored the feel of his hot skin against hers.

  She tugged down his boxers and grasped the hard length of him. Trent returned the favor by dipping into her panties, sliding through her curls, and rubbing her sensitive clit.

  He leaned down and kissed her. He tasted like mint toothpaste and vanilla coffee. How did he manage to taste so delicious? She put her arms around his neck and pulled him close. She deepened the kiss, drinking in his essence, pouring out the emotions he invoked in her.

  * * *

  TRENT WANTED TO taste every inch of her. He couldn’t resist spreading his fingers across her flat belly. He moved his hands up her sides, his palms grazing against the fullness of her breasts. Her rough gasp excited him.

  He nuzzled her neck.

  She turned her head and kissed him. He almost melted under the onslaught of her mouth. Men were not supposed to turn into big, gooey puddles when women kissed them. But this was not a tender assault. Sophie’s lips spoke of need and hunger. The flickering of her tongue shot darts of desire through him. Every thought in his head was for her. He burned for Sophie.

  * * *

  SOPHIE SIGHED AT the soft, warm feeling of his mouth, and he captured that small breath, tracing his tongue along her lower lip and brushing her face with his calloused thumb. She threaded her finger into his hair. Trent continued to tease her with his tongue, tasting the corners of her mouth, tracing the seam, nibbling on the fullness of her lips. Light and heat danced through her. She throbbed with need, a living thing that devoured her senses. She opened her mouth to accept his full kiss, mating her mouth to his, teasing him as he had teased her.

  Sophie pulled Trent closer. Her nipples hardened as they made contact with his chest; they became pinpoints of sensation as Trent’s hands found them and tortured her with strokes and tugs. Little flames of desire flickered, ignited, exploded. Sophie shuddered as desire rippled over her. As Trent kissed her, Sophie’s restless hands eagerly sought sensitive skin and smoothed over hard muscles. He stilled when she grasped his shaft again and groaned against her mouth when she stroked him.

  * * *

  TRENT’S DESIRE COMBUSTED. He brushed the inner skin of her thighs; his hand slid up, up, up until he reached the most sensitive part of her. She gasped, moving against his palm, the nails of her free hand digging into his back as she stroked him with the same rhythm of he used on her. Sophie’s low moans and clutching hands were aphrodisiacs. Trent was hard and ready, but he wanted Sophie’s gratification more than his own. He bent his head and suckled her breast, laving it with his tongue.

  “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let go.”

  She did, arching, grasping, shuddering. Before she had time to recover, he slid a finger inside her and re-built the fire.

  Sophie’s scent wrapped around him.

  “I need you.”

  Trent grasped her waist and pulled her in for a mind-numbing kiss. She felt her bones melt, leaving her rubbery and unable to stand on her own. She threaded her fingers through his long, soft hair, and poure
d her heart into the kiss.

  He eased himself between her legs, the head of his cock pressing on her hot, wet entrance. “Yes?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, yes.”

  He stroked his length inside her, and she welcomed him by wrapping her legs around his hips. His thrusts matched her eagerness and the pleasure surrounding her centralized, building with each stroke. She gasped, grabbing his shoulders and moving against Trent’s hardness. The pressure built, her pleasure swirling and sparkling.

  “Trent!”

  When she cried out, her orgasm triggered Trent’s own. He gave a final, hard thrust and came, throbbing inside her, his head dropping to her neck, as he followed her into ecstasy.

  Chapter Eight

  “NO! NOT NOW,” Meckenzie ranted as the battered CRX coughed, sputtered and died. The car coasted onto the gravel shoulder of the two-lane road, braking to a smoldering stop. In the twilight, and through the belching smoke, Meckenzie read the big, official sign: ROAD ENDS 3 MILES.

  “So, this is where it all ends,” Meckenzie muttered. “Good to know.”

  She shoved open the door and heaved her tired butt out of the tiny car. She was exhausted. There was nothing and no one nearby. Her stomach growled; a reminder that her last meal had been a granola bar and tepid bottled water. Ten hours ago. She’d kill for a decent breakfast.

  Voluminous gray clouds rippled across the purple sky, threatening one helluva storm. A crisp breeze brought with it a reminder that winter could show up at any time.

  She blew out a breath and leaned against the car staring at an endless field. Not a tree or cow in sight. The Sooner State sure seemed filled with a whole lot of nothing.

  “May I help you, mademoiselle?”

  The French-accented male voice startled her. Meckenzie took a moment to gather her composure. She hadn’t expected a welcoming committee so soon. She hoped it was a Broken Heart citizen. After all, someone out to do her harm wouldn’t necessarily waltz up and announce himself.