Michele Hauf - Her Werewolf Hero

But never before in his nearly one hundred fifty years of working for Acquisitions had such a race to the prize involved ensuring the safety of a human woman. This was a twist he wasn’t sure how to handle. And even if he did, he didn’t want to.

He didn’t get involved with human women romantically. That way lay heartbreak. And unfathomable grief. He would never be forgiven for one moment of indiscretion with a human woman and the results that had followed. Nor did he deserve such forgiveness.

He hadn’t thought about that time for ages. Had been so involved in his work that he hadn’t afforded a moment for regret. And now, in the midst of a strange connection to this human woman, memory had chosen to bombard him with images of a sweet blond child, alone and...beyond hope. So precious and fragile.

That horrible, horrible day. It had been his fault! All because he’d chosen to dally with a human woman.

Pressing his hands to his temples and shaking his head, Bron shook away the image. The best thing he could do now was get Kizzy out of his life as quickly as possible. Because he didn’t need the grief of memory or the tease of her sexy scent. She was pretty and tough and independent. All things that attracted him to a woman.

But she had no fangs or wings or the ability to shift, so that made her dangerous to his very soul.

“I’ll take her home. Maybe Acquisitions can assign a watch to her for a few days.”

He couldn’t be responsible for her safety. Because he wasn’t capable or, rather, didn’t want to remain in such close proximity to her.

The bathroom door opened, and Kizzy wandered out, twisting her hair into a ponytail as she did. He hadn’t noticed if she’d worn makeup earlier, but now her face was clean and fresh. A sweet, fruity tease clung to her skin. More of that seductive perfume?

He quickly looked away, finding the remote on the nightstand to look busy.

“That felt good to wash my face and take a few minutes to regroup.” She wandered to the bed, where she’d dropped her camera bag.

Damn, he’d forgotten to go through the camera. Distracted by morbid memories. He’d wait until she fell asleep. Her focus was fixed on the LCD screen on the back of the camera.

“Wish I had a toothbrush, but a hand towel worked well enough. You want to use the bathroom? It’s all yours.”

“I will. I’m just going to, uh...”

She eyed him up and down, setting aside the camera. “Stand guard?”

He nodded.

She plopped onto the bed and toed off her red shoes. Reclining, she pushed back the coverlet and shoved down the sheets with her feet. Propping up the pillow, she sat back against it. “So, tell me about this Purgatory Heart.”

Bron exhaled and pulled the curtain back before the window. He didn’t want to do this. But she had a right to know. Maybe if he answered her questions now, that would put an end to them, and he could focus. And be done with her.

“I was commanded to retrieve the heart and return it to Acquisitions,” he offered. “That’s how my assignments work. I get an electronic dossier on the object, a location if available and off I go. I had no idea the Purgatory Heart would be inside someone’s chest. Nor do I believe the Director of Acquisitions knew that.”

At least, he hoped Ethan Pierce had not known such information. What kind of duplicity would that be if he’d been sent on such a task? No, Pierce had been the director for two centuries. He was solid and trustworthy.

She pressed her fingers over her breast. Feeling her heartbeats? “So I’ve got to keep one eye out for you and a big butcher knife? Not like I haven’t been through that before.”

He gaped at her.

“Not like that.” She swept a dismissive hand before her and yawned. “I mean, no man has ever come after me with a knife before. Without my permission. You know.” She shrugged and splayed out a hand. “I had open-heart surgery eight months ago. Got a nasty scar down my chest.” She lifted her shirt just enough so he could see a thick red scar vertically climbing her chest wall. “So I suppose, if when the time comes and you do intend to take out my heart, you can just use the ‘cut here’ line.”

“That’s...” He didn’t know what to say to that. She was too blasé about the possibility of such a hazard. Truly, her fear manifested strangely. “I won’t do that, Kisanthra.”

“You don’t sound very sure of yourself. I’m too tired to care right now. And hungry. But I think I’ll fall asleep before I can look up the diner’s number for takeout. So why were you tasked with finding my heart? Is it important? You said you retrieve objects of magical nature. I know this heart isn’t magical.”

“It’s a portal to Purgatory.”

She lifted her head from the pillow and gave him a wide-eyed assessment. Deep brown eyes that held such curiosity while at the same time managed to disturb him. Because her gaze compelled him to wonder about her. What made her tick? What did she see through those eyes when she held the camera before them?

Bron nodded in confirmation. How fucked was it to learn your heart could allow others access to Purgatory?

“That is so crazy. You’re saying someone can get to Purgatory from my heart? By...using it? How? I didn’t think Purgatory was a real place. I’m not even Catholic!”

“It exists. And in the wrong hands, your heart could provide an entrance to the place. Should that occur...things could get out.”

“What kind of things?” Her wide eyes beamed fascination.

“Souls. Bad things. I’m aware that Purgatory is populated with Toll Gatherers and the souls of the dead. But that’s not important, because no one is going there by means of the heart.”

“You mean my heart. It’s not the heart. It’s mine. Right here.” She thumped her chest. “Still beating. And I’m not willing to give it up anytime soon.”

He nodded. “As you should not. But as I’ve said, I had expected to find...an artifact. A preserved heart or some such. Not one still beating. The photographs show the objects bear a burned handprint on them.”

“Photographs?”

Bron sighed and tugged out his cell phone. As he scrolled to the dossier files, he considered whether or not he should show her classified Acquisitions information. But then he clicked on the link to the museum, which was on the internet for anyone to access, and handed her his phone.

She scrolled for a while and read the website. “That stuff looks fake. Anyone could have burned a handprint into a book or bucket and called it that. Or Photoshop! You actually believe this stuff?” She handed him back the phone.

“I thought you said you believed in the unbelievable?”

“I do, but I’m not stupid. Check the Snopes website. I’m sure it debunks that museum.”

“All files are fact-checked and verified as genuine before they become an assignment. I have no reason to doubt the validity of the object’s value or use.” He tucked the phone away in a pocket. “The tracker led me to you. I’ve never doubted witch magic before, and I’m not about to begin now.”

She placed a palm over her chest and closed her eyes. With a nod, she seemed to accept his statement. “This is so out of my pay grade. And I don’t even have a salary. But I’m willing to listen and learn. To believe.”

“A willingness is more than most can manage.” He hooked a hand over the end of the stake holstered at his hip.

“Do you always carry that stake?”

“Always.”

“I’ve seen the crossbow you carry. That was cool. What other kinds of weapons do you have? A knife?”

“In the truck I’ve a bowie knife and a garrote. The crossbow and some other weapons. Why do you ask?”

“I suppose a bowie knife would do nicely to cut out my heart. Just needed to know what I’m dealing with.”