Michele Hauf - Her Werewolf Hero

* * *

Bron woke on the bed, coming instantly alert and looking about the room. He’d heard something. Or was it the odd scent he noted? Smelled like...stale mattress. This place was nowhere near worth the forty-nine dollars he’d laid out for it. A tile above the toilet had fallen off when he’d been in there earlier. And the sink’s rust stains... It should be condemned.

He rubbed his temple, easing away the lingering remnants of sleep. He must have been more tired than he’d thought. He hadn’t expected to fall asleep. Of course, a flight across the ocean from Berlin, topped by an evening chasing harpies and vampires, could be the reason for exhaustion.

A beam of morning sun teased behind the faded curtains, and he glanced to the bed next to his. It was empty.

She had fled him once again. “Damn!”

Grabbing the truck keys on the nightstand, he mustered a small blessing she hadn’t the forethought to steal his vehicle. He hooked a hand in the canvas duffel in which he carried all his life’s possessions and rushed through the door.

Two steps out onto the tarmac, and he sniffed the air to determine which way she had gone. To the right.

And there she stood, not ten feet away. Against the brick wall. Offering him a small smile and a shrug. “I didn’t run off.”

Dropping the duffel bag where he stood, he then stalked up and gripped her by the shoulders. Relief surprised him, but he didn’t question it. “I thought you had. Kisanthra, I can’t protect you if you keep running away from me.”

And then he did something he would have never done had he taken a moment to think it through.

Bron pulled her into his embrace and wrapped his arms across her back. She sighed against his chest, tucking her head against him, and he remembered how easy it could be to hug a woman and simply let her warmth melt against his own. To recognize the shape of her and welcome her curves and softness. And to brace his arms about her a bit more tightly than a friendly hug allowed.

Because he’d thought he’d lost her. And he wasn’t done protecting her. Bad things were after her. She needed him.

That was his story, and he was sticking to it.

“I wasn’t running away,” she said against his shoulder. “I was just thinking about heading into the truck stop to buy us candy bars for breakfast. Bron?”

He still held her. Inhaled the sweetness of her skin. And what was that about? He didn’t hold women like this. Did he still have to fear what involvement with a human could mean to him? He shouldn’t. It had been a long time ago. And she smelled so good. Like candied peaches. But his dislike for human women had become an ingrained belief. And besides, it was easier hooking up with paranormals. He got a lot less questions from them.

Bron abruptly pulled out of the hug and ran his fingers back through his hair, then scruffed his beard. “Right. Breakfast. There’s got to be some place that’ll sell us eggs and bacon instead a candy bar. Doesn’t the truck stop have a diner?”

“Yes. And I love bacon. I just don’t have any more than a couple dollars on me, so a candy bar was all I could hope for.” She tapped the front of his shirt, and her smile beamed at him. “You don’t have to worry about me running off. I thought about it but changed my mind. I know I’m safe with you until we get this all figured out.”

“You’re a smart woman.”

“I am. But allow me some fumbling in this new world I’ve just been tossed into. Vampires and harpies? Much as I’ve always believed in mythical creatures, I’m going to have to fire up a new set of brain neurons to accept it all.”

“Good enough. Let’s go eat. My treat.”

* * *

Kisanthra secured a table for them inside the diner that, on the front door in big white vinyl-cling letters, had advertised the Man Plate, featuring two kinds of sausage, bacon, ham and steak. Bron’s stomach was ready for the challenge. He told her he’d meet her inside after a quick phone call.

This time the director took his call.

“What do you mean the heart isn’t attainable?” Ethan Pierce asked.

“It’s in a person,” Bron said. “A young human woman who is staying in a small Minnesota town.”

“I see. You’re in the States? Tough luck.”

“You had no idea the heart was intact?”

“Of course not, Everhart. I wouldn’t have sent you off on the mission knowing such a detail.”

“So, the mission is off?” he asked.

“I’ll have to look into it,” the director said. “Stand by until I can get back to you. Affirmative?”

“Yes.” Bron hung up before his disappointment would register with an argument.

Wasn’t as if he could walk away from Kisanthra now anyway. She needed a guard. An armed guard. And he’d have to do it without falling into a nonsense hug again.

Standing so close to her, feeling her body relax against his had felt damned good. But he didn’t like the hope that brief contact had stirred in his gut. Because it had been a lie. It was simply good to hold a woman, of any kind or species. He and his monkish lifestyle tended to go too long without satisfying his physical needs.

And then things happened.

He looked to the sky. The sun was high. The moon last night had been waxing. More than half full.

He spoke to the phone, “Siri, when’s the next full moon?”

She replied with the date, which was four days away.

He couldn’t remain on this mission much longer without risking a shit-storm of questions from the insatiably curious Kisanthra Lewis.

* * *

Kizzy popped a straw into the orange juice she’d ordered for Bron when he sat across from her in the cherry-vinyl booth. “I ordered you the Man Plate. Same for me. I can seriously put down any and all breakfast meat.”

“Coffee?”

“It’s coming. I’m going to guess you’re a no-cream kind of guy. Am I right?”

“Black as the devil’s ass is how I prefer it.”

“Okay, now I have that image in my mind.” She sipped her juice. “Was that call business?”

“It was.”

“About me?”

He conceded with a nod. He wasn’t going to give her too much information, but she’d angle for as much as she could manage from him. Because she was a woman in peril. Figuratively, of course. Because while she appreciated him wanting to protect her, she sensed rescue would only come by standing up for herself and being smart. And that meant learning as much as she could about the situation.

“Have you been given instructions on how to obtain the heart?” she asked.

“Kisanthra.”

“Please, Bron, I’m curious, and I have a right to know. Me, being the owner of the sought-after object.”

He exhaled, and, pulling the straw from the juice and setting it aside, he then swallowed half of it before speaking. “We had no idea the heart was intact. I’ve alerted the Director of Acquisitions, and now I’m waiting for further instructions. No doubt the mission will be canceled.”

“I certainly hope so. I mean, I may have avoided the vampire’s bite last night, because, you know, immortality? Not interested. But I do have a long life ahead of me. Plan to live to one hundred. I’m expecting that birthday card from the president. And I sure hope she’s a cool president.”

Bron chuckled. “So do I. We could use a woman POTUS. But vampires can’t give you immortality from a quick bite.”

“Really? But I thought—well, of course, movies and books are fiction. So how does it happen?”

He rubbed his temple and winced.

“Face it, Bron, you’re stuck with someone who is open to the paranormal and whose middle name may very well have been Curious instead of Ginelle. I have questions. Lots of questions.”

“Yes, but I don’t think it’s the best conversation for a public place.”