Her Reluctant Bear: A Hot Paranormal Fantasy Saga with Witches, Werewolves, and Werebears (Weres and Witches of Silver Lake Book 5) (31 page)

“You don’t need to bow,” the goddess said. “I wanted to meet you two in person.”

Really? “Thank you for all you’ve done.”

“I love happy endings, and both of you suffered when you were young. If anyone could understand best what you each had been through, it would be each other.”

Brian looked down at Jillian, truly seeing her strength. He could only hope he would be as strong one day. “Is that why you paired us?” he asked Naliana.

The goddess smiled. “I’m not sure why or how I pick who belongs together. I just go with my gut.” She patted her stomach. “I came tonight to warn you, Brian.”

“Me?” Was someone out to harm Jillian again?

“In time, your new hormones will make you whole in every way, but in the meantime, be careful of your newfound abilities. You will grow stronger with each new moon.”

“Stronger?”

“Yes.”

He wasn’t sure he understood, but if she’d want him to know more, she’d have been more explicit. “I’ll be careful.”

Naliana nodded. “I must go. I have so little time on earth, and what time I do have, I want to spend with James. And congratulations on your engagement.”

How did she know? Of course, she was a goddess. “Thank you again.”

That might have been a dumb thing to say, but right now, he was rather tongue-tied, and he didn’t think Jillian had even blinked the whole time the goddess was in front of them.

Naliana turned and floated back down the path and then slowly faded into the night. He faced Jillian. “Can you believe that?”

“No. I mean, it was hard enough to believe James was an immortal, but to meet a goddess was beyond my wildest dreams.” She faced him. “Though in reality, meeting you was even more amazing.”

Her words meant the world to him. “That so? How about we head on home and you can show me just how wonderful it is?”

“Race you to the car!”

He laughed. “You’re on.”

The End

*

Don’t forget to sign up for my
newsletter
to receive three free books, as well as up-to-date information on my stories
.
If you prefer to only receive notices regarding my releases, follow me on
BookBub

I hope you enjoyed Brian and Jillian’s story. Up next is
FREEING HIS TIGER
. It’s Dalton and Anna’s story. Here is a sneak peak of the first chapter.

O
fficer Dalton Garner
leaned back in his office chair, worried about Anna Fairchild, the woman who smelled of warm honey kissed by the summer sun. She’d said her therapy was going well, but even after three months of meeting with James, she still seemed skittish—not that he was keeping tabs on her or anything.

Dalton couldn’t blame her for always looking over her shoulder. Hell, if someone had driven him off the road and then dragged him somewhere, tied him up, and beat him, he’d have had a hard time recovering too. Of course, that could never happen since Dalton was too fast to be caught. Being a shifter and a Wendayan had its advantages.

Mine, mate
, his tiger growled.

Stop it,
he told the persistent animal. So what if he’d had been the one to carry Anna out after her abduction. It didn’t mean she was his—yet.
Anna’s not ready
he told his tiger.

That was an understatement. Anna had only learned shifters existed that fateful night because his sister had altered her form right in front of her. It didn’t matter the act was needed to kill the man who’d kidnapped her. The shock alone of learning his kind existed would be enough to make Anna scared to be around him and everyone else.

Damn. Dalton wished there was something he could do to help her get over the trauma, but any move on his part might scare her more.

When are you going to tell Anna she’s your mate?
his tiger asked.

Dalton didn’t respond this time.

“Garner!” Phil Smythe, his boss at the sheriff’s department, shouted Dalton’s name as he rounded the corner from the hallway containing the department offices. He barreled toward him, his face contorted. The man was as military as they came with his short hair, ramrod posture, and booming voice. Dalton’s partner, Kalan Murdoch, was right behind him, appearing equally serious despite his light brown hair flying behind him.

Dalton sat up straighter. “Yes sir?”

He tossed a piece of paper on his desk. “Crystal Wedgewood was murdered in her home tonight. I want you and Kalan to take the lead. Paramedics responded to the call by the husband, but she was already dead when they arrived. The coroner is there now and I’ve dispatched the crime scene unit. If you hurry, you’ll beat them there.”

Typical Smythe. His discourse was always to the point and with a minimum number of words. Good thing they’d switched shifts with Brant Thompson and Drew Compton. Otherwise, Kalan and he wouldn’t have been given the case.

Dalton stood and then had to rush after his partner who was charging toward the exit, acting as if he’d been told his mate was in trouble. Kalan had lived in Silver Lake his whole life and must have known the victim.

Kalan strode to his vehicle that was parked in front of the building, jumped in, and slammed his door shut before Dalton reached the squad car. He managed to slip into the front seat just as Kalan took off.

“I take it you know the vic?” Dalton asked.

“Yes. She owns the Silver Lake Bookstore,” he answered. From the way, Kalan’s knuckles were clenched on the wheel, he knew her quite well.

“What kind of person would kill a lover of books?”

“Someone with a grudge, I guess. It’s not like she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was murdered in her own house for goddess’s sake.” He slapped the wheel.

Violating the sanctity of one’s own home was the worst. “Could be she didn’t stock some sexy romance novel the killer wanted,” Dalton said trying to lighten the tense mood, but the moment his words escaped, he regretted his inappropriate response. Kalan cared for this woman and Dalton had trivialized his concern. The fact his partner didn’t even glance his way proved it.

“Whatever the reason,” Kalan announced, “I’m going to do my damnedest to find out who killed her.”

Dalton wisely kept quiet. They reached Elkwood Lane six minutes later and didn’t need to check the numbers on the houses because the flashing ambulance lights led them straight to the door. At the end of the drive, Kalan stopped and jammed the vehicle in park, leaving his lights flashing. “How about you talk to the husband while I check the back for a possible entry point?” Kalan asked.

“Can do.” Speaking with a grieving spouse was the worst part of his job, but it might be more difficult for Kalan, especially if he was a friend of the husband.

The neighborhood looked upscale with most homes sitting on at least an acre lot. All were manicured and had long driveways and mature trees. The Wedgewood’s home was a two-story brick mansion with tall pillars at the entranceway, and was possibly the nicest place on the block.

As soon as Dalton entered the foyer, the paramedics were on their way out with their gear. Dalton stopped Trevor Harden, one of the paramedics he played pool with. “What can you tell me?” Dalton asked. He didn’t expect to learn much from them, but paramedics were trained to check their surroundings.

“The wife was dead when we arrived, and the husband is pretty shaken up. Dr. Williams is in there now. He’ll be able to tell you more. Whoever did this was a damned fine shot. The bullet hit her squarely in the chest.”

“Or else he stood close.”

“Always possible. The doc will have to give you that information.”

“Thanks.”

Dalton stepped into the living room and was surprised by the opulence. From the fact Mrs. Wedgewood owned a bookstore, he’d pictured flowered curtains, brown recliners surrounding a wooden coffee table, and antiques crammed onto shelves—kind of like his old fashioned rental. This place couldn’t be farther from his image nor could it be any colder. That might be because Dalton wasn’t a fan of modern. About the only things that weren’t black or white were the beige curtains and a throw rug that had a few splotches of red woven in it.

The coroner and his assistant were working on the body while a man of about forty-five was on the sofa with his head leaned back and his eyes shut. Before speaking with the husband, Dalton glanced around hoping to find a weapon conveniently sitting on a table, but luck wasn’t pointing his way today.

He returned his focus to Mr. Wedgewood. Most middle-aged women would call him handsome in a square-jaw kind of way. His tailored suit looked expensive as did his shoes and silk tie.

Dalton moved closer. “Mr. Wedgewood?”

The man looked up then swiped a hand over his eyes and down his jaw. “Yes?”

“I’m Dalton Garner from the sheriff’s department. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Of course. I’ll tell you what I can. I want my wife’s killer found.”

Even though he sounded sincere, it didn’t mean the man wasn’t guilty. Dalton always asked questions based on the assumption that this person could be the killer. Tonight would be no exception. “We’ll do our best. If you don’t mind, I’d like to record our conversation.” Dalton pulled out his phone.

“Sure, but I don’t know much.”

Husbands were a wealth of information whether they believed it or not. “Can you walk me through what happened?”

Mr. Wedgewood pulled a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. “Crystal’s shop closes at six on Mondays. She owns the Silver Lake Bookstore.” Dalton nodded. “I usually arrive home before her, but tonight I had to stay late. I was working on a client’s portfolio and didn’t leave until six thirty. When I walked in, I found Crystal…like that.” He swallowed hard.

“Do you own a gun?”

A tic appeared around his left eye. “Yes, but it was stolen about a month ago.”

He’d heard that story a hundred times. “Did you report it?”

“Yes.”

Dalton made a mental note to check that out. “You have blood on your shirt. How did that happen?”

Mr. Wedgewood looked down at the red smears than glanced off to the side. He sniffled. “When I came home and saw Crystal, I thought she might still be alive, so I cradled her in my arms, hoping my body heat would help revive her. When she didn’t moan or respond in any way, I called 911.”

That explained the blood—assuming his story was true. Kalan came in through the front door but didn’t indicate what if anything he’d found. Instead of joining him, Kalan made a beeline toward the coroner and his assistant.

“Does your wife have any enemies?” Dalton asked.

“No. Everyone loved her.”

Someone didn’t. “Do you think one of her employees could have been angry over something? Like not getting a raise or a promotion?”

“I couldn’t say. I really didn’t know them very well. Crystal ran her business and I ran mine.”

How sad. Not that he believed he’d end up with Anna, despite her being his mate, but if he did, he’d want to know everything about her job like how many customers came in that day and who was nice and who wasn’t. At least he knew Anna’s boss well since Elana was Kalan’s mate.

“I realize this is overwhelming, but I’ll need you to come down to the precinct.”

“What? Why? I didn’t kill my wife.” His grief was replaced with disbelief tinged with anger.

Dalton held up his hands. “I’m not accusing you of anything. We need to process your clothes.”

“Why? I told you my wife’s blood is on my suit.” He acted as if he couldn’t believe someone would accuse him of any wrong doing.

“I understand, but it’s procedure.” They’d need to test for gunshot residue too, but he had no intention of telling that to Mr. Wedgewood.

Just then two policemen arrived along with the crime scene unit. Dalton nodded to Will Mathers, one of his coworkers. “Can you help Mr. Wedgewood pack for a few days?”

Wedgewood jumped up, his jaw tight and his hands clenched. “What, so now I can’t even stay in my own home?”

The man was losing it. “Mr. Wedgewood. It will take a day or two to process the scene, which means you can’t be here. Is there anyone you can stay with? A friend, a coworker, or a family member perhaps?”

His breathing calmed as he tried to figure out his options. “Yeah, sure.”

As soon as Will Mathers escorted the husband down the hallway, Kalan joined Dalton. “What did you learn?” Dalton asked.

“Forced entry in the back. I’ll have CSU dust for prints. Doc Williams confirmed she died about an hour ago. The bullet hit her in the chest, but he won’t know how far back the shooter was standing until he gets her to the lab. You?”

“The husband has blood on his shirt. He said he found her on the floor and picked her up in his arms. We’ll take him down to the station and have his clothes and hands processed for gunshot residue.”

“Does he look good for it?”

Dalton shrugged. “He said he was at work until right before he called 911.”

Kalan nodded. “We can follow up on that later. Come on. Let’s let the CSU do their job. We don’t need to be contaminating anything else.”

*