Mr. and Mrs. Monster (7 page)

“Damien’s not like that. He won’t react the same. Humans are worth the risk. Love is too.”

Eric grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Besides, if you don’t deal with this, he’s a weakness that will get the both of you killed. Either you sort this out between the two of you, or I have to call in Hermes or the big boss, Zeus, to wipe his memory. The more he knows about us without being prepared, the more of a target he is.”

Kyla shuddered at Damien being prey—or worse. Eric was right. She needed to give him the lowdown on what grew fangs and went bump in the night. The wrong sort of knowledge in her world was a death sentence and death wasn’t always the worst option. Resigned, she reached for her cell phone and dialed his number, talking to Eric at the same time. “Fine, you’re right. Just don’t tell your demon-spawn bride. Otherwise, she’ll never shut up.”

“Deal, and to prove I’m nice, I even told her no pouf dress for the wedding. She’s planning a pink tuxedo for you.”

“Shit, Eric. That woman is the bane of my life.” Kyla grinned at him as Damien’s number rang out. Her grin quickly slid into a frown. “I left him at his house. Where the hell is he now?” She tried his work phone and cursed as that went to voicemail.

“What’s up?”

“Probably nothing. But he was attacked at a warehouse. I’ll head back to his place to check on him. Lousy reception, knowing my luck. Can you take care of this place for a bit longer?”

Kyla waited for Eric’s assent then changed and took off at a fast pace.

* * * *

Damien’s house loomed in the morning light and waves of foreboding spread out from it. He was in trouble. He had to be. Knowing him, he’d gone off half-cocked again. Typical man. Kyla stopped to sense if he was in the house. Relief made her giddy as she realized someone was inside.
Thank God
. He hadn’t freaked and done a runner. Hadn’t bolted on a wild goose chase and got himself killed. He was fine.

She marched up to the door and, without knocking, shoved her way in. “Look, I don’t care if you’re
weirded out. We have to work this out or you going to get us killed—”

A sudden scuffle of foot against floor had her spinning around. Before she completed the rotation, a hand slammed something hard against her face.

She shoved at the cloth next to her nose. This wasn’t Damien. It hadn’t been his body she’d sensed in the house, but there was danger—to her. An astringent smell wafted up as she fought not to inhale. Chloroform. The chemical normally wouldn’t affect her, but her mouth itched and burned. The bastard had coated the rag with silver combined with the chloroform. That meant she was going down.

Kyla forced her drooping eyes open and extended her senses. Any hint of the killer would help her find out who was attacking them. She heard him talking behind her, but couldn’t make out the words. Panic flamed inside of her, but lassitude hooked talons into her and she was floating on the edge of consciousness.

Please don’t let Damien come after me. Wherever he is, he’s safer than here.
Unless the killer had already taken him? She tried to use her emotions to force her muscles to action, but to no avail. It was too late as blackness hovered on the fringes of her mind.

“That’s right. Sleep, cub. Don’t fight it. You and your human plaything will disappear very soon. Your goddess must pay for everything and the fault is hers alone. You’re just collateral damage. Sad, but true. You have a big part to play and must be at your best.”

Kyla struggled to open her eyes as the whispered words snaked through her brain. Something told her she should know the person behind the voice, but her mind wouldn’t function properly. Whoever it was let her limp body drop to the ground with a thump then bent over her. The face was nothing but a blur of colors, of lightness and shadows, nothing Kyla could focus on as the darkness overtook her. The last thing she heard was the attacker’s sibilant whisper.

“Things are coming to a head, and soon I will control all. Your mortal is of no use in the long run. Artemis doesn’t care for the likes of him. But you, Kyla… Artemis will bleed for her wolf, and I can’t wait to see it.”

* * * *

Damien shuddered again as the pain ceased. He reached out to Kyla mentally as she’d done for him, but it was useless. Where she’d been was empty. He clenched his fists. She wasn’t dead. Not that tough she-wolf. He just had to find her.

He let go of the fence and bent to pick up his father’s medallion he’d dropped in the dirt. A cold frisson gusted over his spine and he jerked in reflex. “What the heck was that?” He turned to see if the wind had caught the weathervane on top of the roof, but it was still.

Convulsive shudders bit at him, bent him double, racked his body, and an electric tingle started in his hands. On all fours now, he scrabbled at the earth below. Heat so hot it seared to the bone and flamed around him, cocooning him in perfect silence. He bowed his head and fought the urge to scream. His clothing tearing sounded loud in the quiet yard, and he dug long nails into the ground again and again as the pain clawed at his body, twisting itself into his every cell. The agony faded until just silence was left. He wanted to roll around on the ground and moan his pleasure at the welcoming absence of pain.

His skin prickled in the morning air then welcomed the blanket of fur that raced over him like a lover’s caress. His breath came in short pants. Damien’s face lengthened and his hearing and sight sharpened. He saw and heard everything. Desire overwhelmed, cocooned him. Pain fled and left pleasure in its place. His spine popped and bent as he panted through the hardest orgasm he had ever had. A tidal wave of electricity seared him, and he lifted his head for a howl of possession, of territory.

Wait a minute… A howl?

Damien stared at his hands. Fingers that were now claws and paws.
Shit…
Obviously, this change thing ran in the family. Because he was staring at a wolf’s paw and he was sure as hell not sitting on top of one—he was one.

His mother had been afraid of this. Of his father. Damien spun on the spot and let his senses track around. He smelled the scents of his mother’s garden. The neighbor’s cat, the kid next door. His mother’s flowery perfume and Kyla’s musky scent.

Wait a minute. Kyla had never been here. How could he smell her?

“That’s right, big boy. She hasn’t, but you’re connected. You sense her even more than I can.”

A woman’s husky voice echoed in his mind. Damien brought his head up, a dog on point, but saw nothing.

“Nope. Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not here. I’m trying to track Kyla. An old enemy of mine has her, and he’ll kill her to get at me. I’m her boss, Artemis.”

Damien opened his mouth to demand help, but a series of puppy growls and whines came out.
“Damn it,” he thought back to her, “this isn’t very helpful. Just tell me where she is.”

“I’d love to, cub, but I can’t. You went and bonded with her, even if you didn’t realize it, and I can’t sense her anymore. You’re the one who can track her successfully. Concentrate on her scent and follow it. If you can’t smell it, you’re facing the wrong way. Simple. Call for me when you get there.”

“How? No hands, remember? Artemis, damn you. Where have you gone?”

Damien shrugged off Kyla’s flighty bitch of a boss and trotted away in search of Kyla. He sensed her closer toward the other side of Vegas, nearer the warehouses. Maybe she was at the old warehouse where he’d been hit? But why would she go there? God, he hoped she hadn’t gone looking for him. She’d never forgive him if he were the cause of her pain. Somehow, she’d been lured to the old place. They’d already tracked him there, so they’d never think to look there again. Or the murderer didn’t care anymore and was done with hiding. It was a chilling thought. The killer had nothing to lose and this was his end game. Damien bolted for the warehouse.

He’d deal with whatever or whoever he found, but he was damned if he would let anyone hurt Kyla.

Wolves stuck together. And Kyla had better get used to it.

Chapter Eight

“Artemis, where are you? If Kyla dies, I’ll kill you myself.”
Damien, still in wolf form, crouched behind the industrial-sized dumpster. If she wasn’t here in five minutes, he was going in himself. He’d peered through the windows, nothing but vague shapes showed through the dirt-encrusted panes. Two people were in there—one standing and one sitting.

“Patience is a virtue, so what happened to yours, cub?”

Damien growled softly. A flighty Greek goddess was late, that’s what.
“What do we do now?”

“Now I go in and distract Actaeoneon. You tackle him, get him on the ground and get Kyla free.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do? Lick him to death?”

“You have claws and teeth, youngling. Use them. You’ve other gifts as well. You see the past by touching things. You manipulate dreams and you’re immune to silver. None of my children are able to do so. Actaeon will have no weapons except for maybe my longbow. Be careful. Although it’s silver, which can’t hurt you, it is infused with my essence, which can kill you. So don’t let him shoot you with it.”

“Fine, great. Jump on killer, lick and gnaw him to death and rescue Kyla. What next?”

“Oh, what a fine match for my Captain of the Guards you are. Be warned. As your father found out, life as a Lykos—a wolf—is hard on loved ones, even those of the blood like Kyla. You must both be strong, if you want a life together.”

“Well, whatever we decide is none of your business. Now how did Actaeon get your bow?”

Damien nearly yelped in shock as a figure quivered to form in front of him. The faint outline of a woman’s armored figure flickered as she shrouded herself in shadows.

“The weapon was stolen from me by a handmaiden and Actaeon’s mother. The bow had originally been used to hunt and kill rogue wolves, but it has healing powers as well, and his mother used it to heal him. Then he killed her, stole it and here we are today. You ready to go in and save the day?”

“Ready, Greek girl. Let’s go”.

* * * *

“Comfortable, wolf? I could tighten those bonds some more, if you wish?”

Kyla ignored the burn of the silver as it bit into her arms. Her maniacal kidnapper had bound her to the chair with silver wire, obviously hoping if she ever got free, she’d be too weak to kill him.
Bastard.
At least Damien and Artemis weren’t here. Actaeon could kill mortal Damien without working up a sweat, and the guy really had a hard-on for hurting Artie.

“Look, bud. Go suck on some eggs, will ya? Better yet, go take your little white pills. You are a tad psycho for this little black dog.”

She winced as his roar deafened her momentarily. When would she learn a quick mouth wasn’t always an asset?

“Have respect, cub. I’ve tracked down and killed more wolves than you could count. I’ve confused and mislead the best of you. Even your high and holy goddess does not know who I am and who watches her.”

“Excuse you? What century are you living in and when has Artie ever been high and holy? Shit, her wolves would kill her themselves if she ever made us bow down to her.”

Actaeon padded closer, and she shuddered at his face. He was a misshapen and deformed wolf. A hodge-podge of different parts from different wolves. Normally, skinning a wolf and using its coat wouldn’t give you the power of change. But because he had the blood of a Lyko’s birth and had Arti’s longbow with healing powers, he’d managed to build himself an immortal fur coat, renewing himself with the body parts of the dead wolves when his normal wolf’s lifespan dwindled. Be that as it may, Wolfenstein was not a pretty looker.

“Do you miss your human? You don’t have many loves in your life. Even your father is gone. I must say I was disappointed to hear of his death. I wanted to be the one torturing him myself, but we must all be flexible. So instead, I get you.”

“Look, sicko, Artemis will come, then you’re dead. Do you understand? Permanently dead.” Kyla twisted her hands behind her back and tried to loosen the bonds more. They had started slipping slightly, but still not enough, and the scent of her own skin burning was enough to drive her mad.

“I hated your father. He was the Captain of the Guard when my execution was carried out. Did he tell you? Artemis found me playing with the pups. They were nothing. I was everything. Even my servant girl knew that. It didn’t matter if the pups were dead. I was her favorite. Then Artemis ordered your father to kill me, and they dipped their talons in silver. Do you know how much that hurts you? Tortures? They left thinking I was dead, but my mother and her servant had stolen this…”

Actaeon held up Artemis’ longbow and waggled it in her face. “This healed me, but I couldn’t change and my mother was dead. She’d still taken both of them away from me. When I was well again—and that took centuries—I hunted for the goddess and, lo and behold, here she was in Vegas. So I plotted and planned and adapted to this century. I made sure her every move was watched and documented. I killed some of her wolves and built this fine coat.”

“Aren’t you afraid of what she’ll do to you?”

“Do what? I have her bow. It won’t kill her, but it will send her into a coma for at least a century. That will allow me to eliminate her wolves without fear of reprisal. Then when she has no one, I’ll kill her. That will be my revenge. She couldn’t kill me the first time and now I’m so much stronger than I was before.”

Kyla watched as Actaeon flashed back into his human form. Appearances were definitely deceiving. His human form was an angelic, blond man in his early thirties with innocent blue eyes—until you looked closer and saw the emptiness inside. Her father used to say you could judge a person by their eyes and what lay behind them. Well, Actaeon’s eyes were the eyes of a madman with no soul. You look inside and you hit a wall of nothing. No soul and no conscience. Just what your everyday psychopath needs to get the job done.