Read Lycan on the Edge: Broken Heart Book 13 Online
Authors: Michele Bardsley
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 happy 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.