Your Lycan or Mine? (Broken Heart Book 14)

A
SH KNEW SOMEONE
was following her.

To get out of the stifling heat and suffocating quiet of the Soul Searchers office, she’d taken an evening walk. Her investigative partner, best friend, and pain-in-the-ass werewolf Sedrick “Nor” North had sashayed his drag queen self down to the Four Queens to flirt with the bartender.

Their office building wasn’t far from the recently refurbished downtown. The shops on this particular street were closed, but the window displays and the wrought iron street lamps offered soft light. Well-trimmed trees sprouted from perfect dirt squares, which alternated with big pots of multi-colored flowers. Keeping non-indigenous plants alive in the desert took a lot of work—and water.

She stopped at a shop window, using its reflection to see who or what might be trailing her. Moments passed, and no one appeared around the corner. It seemed as though she was alone. Ash cut her eyes to the right and then to the left. Nothing stirred, not even the Las Vegas wind.

A shiver of foreboding made goosebumps rise on her flesh. Everything was so still. Quiet. The air felt heavy, as though storm brewed just beyond the horizon. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was standing helplessly in that awful silence before the thunder roared and the sky cracked open.

Jittery, Ash turned away from the shop. Forget waiting. She’d draw out the one following her.

She stretched her fingers and cracked her neck as she casually continued her stroll. She was never without weapons. She always carried poisoned knives on the sides of her boots. Every pair she owned had compartments to store the specially made blades. Her Sig Sauer .45 rested in her shoulder holster.

Potent soul-shifter magic coursed through her the same way the blood did in her veins though she tried not to use her magic. Magic was energy and using it drained her faster than relying on fists and feet to combat a foe. She was more likely to throw a punch than she was to delve into her supernatural gifts.

Up ahead, she saw the entrance to an alleyway that she knew led to a dead end. If she could draw in her unwanted companion, she’d have the advantage. Her stalker wouldn’t have anywhere to go.

As she passed the alley’s entrance, she swerved into it and ran as fast as she could to the very back. She positioned herself against the brick wall next to a foul-smelling Dumpster, and kept her gaze ahead, waiting.

“C’mon,” she muttered. “Show yourself.”

She didn’t hear footsteps or the rough breathing of someone running. No, she felt the oppressive presence slither into the alleyway. The effluvium was so thick that it nearly suffocated her.

“Ash the Destroyer,” hissed a gravelly voice. “Thy death is upon you.”

“Says you.” Her denial croaked out in a ragged whisper. A force she could not see grabbed her throat and pushed her against the wall.

She kicked and punched, but met no resistance. The thing attacking her had no form. She smelled the sulfur, though, and knew the thing trying to strangle her was demonic. The edges of her vision darkened and she gasped for breath. Her only option was magic. She drew on her power and released it through her fingertips. The blue and white energy struck the invisible foe like a lightning bolt. The creature screamed but did not let go. The pressure on her throat increased.

“Close your eyes,” yelled a male voice.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She felt an explosion of powerful energy. The miasma attacked her shattered, and a frustrated screech echoed as the evil released its hold on her.

Ash gulped air and rubbed her raw throat. Her heart pounded furiously, and her hands shook uncontrollably.

“Natasha,” said a deep, silky voice. She looked up at the man approaching her. He was dressed in a tailored pinstriped Armani suit. His dark hair was short and cut corporate style. He had the sharp, good looks of a GQ model and the arrogant attitude of an alpha male. His dark eyes reminded her of polished amber.

“Who the hell are you?” she managed in a cracked voice.

“I’m the guy who just saved your life.” He looked her over with one eyebrow cocked. “I’m disappointed. I expected more from the infamous soul shifter.”

“Yeah?” Unnerved by her brush with the demon and irritated with his tone of voice, she kicked him in the kneecap. He stumbled, and she punched him hard in the solar plexus. He flew backward.

He lay stunned on the ground. She took out her Sig and aimed it at the stranger. “I asked you a question, asshole.”

He grinned, not intimated by her at all. “I’m Jarod Dante. Your new boss.”

“I don’t have a boss.” Ash wracked her brain. Why did the name Jarod Dante seem so familiar?

“I know Damian and Kelsey,” he said, as though he’d guessed at her thoughts. “I’m a friend to Broken Heart.”

Ash remembered now. Jarod was a therianthrope who’d hoped to mate with Kelsey, a Changeling. But Damian, king of the lycanthropes, had accidentally turned her into a werewolf, and they fell in love. Jarod had been left out in the cold, and then he disappeared. Why the hell would he show up to save her and outrageously claim he was her boss?

She watched Jarod climb to his feet. He crossed his arms, which tightened the expensive material and showed off impressive biceps. He made her nerve endings buzz with awareness, and she didn’t fucking like it.

“The balance between Light and Dark is teetering,” he said. “The Convocation has been resurrected to restore the balance.”

The Convocation reborn?
No, thank you.
“Wait.
You’re
part of the Convocation?”

“Yes.” He shrugged. “I needed something to do with my time.”

Jarod was playing his cards close to the vest. Didn’t matter. She had no hope that anything would be different from the original incarnation. “You tell the new Convocation to kiss my ass.”

“Tempting offer,” he said. “It is a delectable ass.”

His comment stunned her into silence. Reeling from the unwelcome attraction to the man, she attempted to stride past him.

Jarod grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. His expression became grave. “Why do you think a demon tried to kill you?”

She yanked her arm from his grip. “Everyone tries to kill me.”

“The Vedere psychics have issued a prophecy.”

Ash frowned. “About me?”

“About Lilith.” He paused. “And you.”

“I can’t wait to hear this.”

“Lilith returns, the world burns. The soul shifter is the only key that ensures the demon is never free.”

“Why do they make everything rhyme? It’s hard to take their prophecies seriously.” She narrowed her gaze. “Is this a job for Convocation? Because the answer is a big, fat no.”

“The Convocation isn’t asking you for anything, Natasha. Fate is the one coming for you.” His gaze gentled and his tone softened. “Remember, when the time comes, you must begin where the first sacrifices were made.”

Jarod disappeared. No sparkles. No smoke. Not even a good-bye. He just wasn’t there anymore.

Rattled by the demon attack, Jarod Dante’s appearance, and the news about Lilith, Ash pushed her hands into the pockets of her pink leather jacket and hurried back to the office.

T
HE NEXT EVENING
, in the dimly lit office of Soul Searchers, Ash leaned over the desk. She peered down at the small, brown paper-wrapped box that she’d found on the doorstep. Ash’s name had been scrawled on it, but it had no return address. Though she had her suspicions, she hadn’t found any clues about where it had come from or who had dropped it off.

“Did you get me a present?” asked Nor, looking fabulous in his electric-blue mini skirt and white blouse. His stilettos were the same eye-popping color as the skirt. He’d gone for a blond pageboy wig. A faux diamond dotted his cheek. His lips were cherry red, his eye shadow glittery blue.

“Only waitresses in roadside diners and hookers past their prime wear that color of eye shadow,” groused Ash.

“Jealous much.” Nor blinked at her, oblivious to Ash’s worry, and gave her the full effect of his false lashes.

“Did you kill a couple of spiders and glue them to your eyes?”

“Ouch.” He put a hand to his heart in mock pain. “Remember who taught you how to deliver the throat-punch-groin-kick combo. These heels can draw blood.”

He joined Ash at the desk and looked at the box. “Money?” Nor’s voice was hopeful. “Come on, large wad of cash!”

“Bomb,” suggested Ash cynically.

He poked it. “It’s not ticking.”

“Bombs don’t have to tick.” She batted his hand away. “Maybe it’s biological. If we open it … poof … poison sprays in our faces.” She grabbed her throat and made choking noises.

“You’re horrifyingly jaded.”

“Only about mysterious packages.”

“I say we open it.” Nor scooped up the box and shook it like a maraca.

Ash reached for the package, but Nor was nearly a foot taller than her. He held it above her head and laughed.

“You don’t know what’s in there!” she screeched.

“I will in a minuuuuute.” He danced backward, and she aimed her boot at his shin. He darted to the left. “Hey! Don’t kick me! I bruise easily, and you’ll ruin my perfect legs.”

“Okay, okay. You do have pretty good legs.” Besides, the damned bomb would’ve gone off by now. “But you’re still a dumbass.”

“As long as it’s cute, I don’t care about the intelligence level of my ass.” He tore off the paper, throwing it into a nearby trashcan, and then removed the lid. He stared at the contents, frowning.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Statuary. God, I hate knick-knacks. Especially broken knick-knacks.” He handed her the box. “Do you think it’s worth anything? Maybe we could sell it to a pawnshop and go to the Four Queens for drinks. It’s half-price night at the bar.”

“It’s always half-price night for you. The bartender wants to get under your skirt.”

Nor chuckled. “He’s so yummy that I’d let him. Too bad he’s not the type to enjoy what’s under there.”

“The way he flirts with you,” she said, looking him up and down, “means he’s definitely into what’s under there.”

The tall, leggy werewolf batted his eyelashes again.

Ash shook her head, hiding a smile, as she took out the statue: a headless lion the color of mustard and formed out of cheap clay. Foreboding washed over her and Ash’s stomach clenched. Her adopted parents had an odd statue like this one. Dad was a professor of ancient cultures, and he often traveled the world in pursuit of knowledge. He had a lot of weird objects. The statue had always appeared like a cheap knock-off to her. The garish colors and the rough clay parts looked like the efforts of a kindergartner.

“I’ve seen this before,” she said. “It’s supposed to have an owl head and a snake necklace.”

“As if it’s not gaudy enough,” said Nor, horrified.

She tapped the statue. “I think this means we have a job.”

“Funny, I don’t see a client or his deposit.” He looked at Ash. “Remember our new philosophy? You can’t pay; we don’t play. Cough up the dough or we won’t go. If a monster caught is what you wish then you better pass the money dish.”

Ash grimaced. “I can’t believe you remembered those awful mottos we cooked up. We were drunk, Nor.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re running a business, not a charity.”

“Jeez! Who’s cynical now?” She put the statue on the desk and picked up the box. “You know how this works. It’s my calling. It’s who I am, not just what I do.”

“Penance for the souls you devour?” Nor sighed. “Fine. But being noble doesn’t pay the bills or put food in our bellies.”

“Or buy booze.”

“That too.”

“We’ll try to scare up a paying gig,” said Ash. She removed the tissue paper and shook it out. A square-cut piece of parchment floated free. She snatched it and read the note out loud. “If the portal opens to Lilith’s hell, only the eater of souls can break the spell. Find three sacrifices from the soul shifter’s heart, ‘tis the only way to keep out the dark.”

“A threat has been issued in badly written rhyme.” Nor eyed the headless lion warily. “Eater of souls is a little dramatic.”

“The Vedere psychics and their goddamned prophecies. They love being mysterious and secretive.” Ash wondered if Jarod had put the Convocation up to this. She couldn’t be sure. The statue might be from the Vederes. Ash sighed, leaning back in her chair. She hadn’t told Nor about Jarod yet. She didn’t want to freak out her friend. Or, to be honest, acknowledge she had the hots for a dude. Nor would spot her hormone fluctuations from a mile away.

“Why is this shit never easy?” asked Nor.

“If it were easy, everyone would do it.” Ash stared at the headless lion.
Remember, when the time comes, you must begin where the first sacrifices were made.
She understood now what Jarod meant. She had to go home to Tulsa. Her heart turned over in her chest. “Before we save the world, I need a drink.”

Nor stood up and straightened his dress. “Amen, sistah.” He looked at Ash, who sat in the office chair with her feet propped on the desk. He leaned a hip against it, frowning. “We deal with demons all the time. This is Las Vegas. Those scaly bastards love it here. You can practically drown in all the sin. We got this, babycakes.”

“Yeah. End of the world stuff. No big deal.”

Nor sighed. “Can we get
anyone
to pay us for this gig?”

“What? Saving the entire planet isn’t enough for you?”

“The electric company doesn’t take global gratitude as payment for a bill that’s three months overdue.”

The lights flickered. Ash and Nor looked at each other, eyes wide. Then the whole office went dark. The buzzing of the electric appliances, from the computer to the coffee maker, silenced.

In the quiet darkness, Nor said, “Told you so.”