Mr. and Mrs. Monster (6 page)

Been there and not doing that ever again.

Chapter Six

“Jesus, don’t leave yet. Kyla, come back, it’s the middle of the night,” Damien yelled as she morphed and ran past. Hopping from foot to foot, he grabbed the sheet, wrapped it about his hips and ran out behind her, but she’d fled the house.

“Damn it. What the hell is going on?” He dropped the sheet and pulled on a pair of jeans. His dream woman had just changed into his furry canine partner after a bout of fantastic sex. Kyla thought him horrified, but all he wanted was more mind-blowing sex ASAP.

A picture of his father flashed into his head. His mother was scared of animals, but they’d always had a dog hanging around. Before he died, his father loved to head into the national parks and camp out. His dad had been a park ranger and thrived in nature—the complete opposite to his mother. Until the age of seven, Damien was more at home outside than in the house. Animals felt normal to him. Humans were too complicated. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t freaking out? Or maybe at the ripe old age of thirty he was maturing… Nope. Since it was his thirtieth birthday today, there hadn’t been enough time to absorb maturity yet.

The phone ringing interrupted his reverie. He checked his watch. Not the middle of the night, but almost daylight. Probably his mother. They always talked first thing birthday morning. Maybe he’d let the machine pick it up this time. He couldn’t cope with her on top of Kyla running out on him.

“Damien, it’s your mother. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I know you don’t like a fuss, so I didn’t get you anything, but I need you to come to the house. When he died, your father left a box of his things for you on your thirtieth birthday. I’ll see you soon.”

A day for surprises. His mother never talked about his father and now here she was with a box of his stuff? Damien headed for the door. Kyla was a priority, but he’d been waiting since he was seven to hear about his father. He wasn’t going to wait any longer. He’d track Kyla down and get the full story from her later. Meanwhile, he had to get to his mother before she changed her mind, not to mention reporting the attack on him at the warehouse to his bosses. He’d just explain that a private doctor had checked him out and had given the go-ahead to not report to a hospital. If they had any issues, he’d refer them to his canine partner. That would shut the conversation up pretty quick—or get him booted onto psych leave.

* * * *

Damien focused on his mother as she let him into the house. Damn, and he’d thought he was having a bad morning. Her short grayish, red hair stood on end, as if she’d tugged on it countless times. Her clothing was messy, as if she didn’t care what she wore, eyes red-rimmed, with the pupils dilated already. She’d been crying and had taken something to calm herself down before calling him. What was so bad that she’d medicated herself?

“Hey, Ma. What’s up? You look like crap.” Damien grabbed his mother by the elbow and helped her to the nearest chair.

“I’m tired. That’s all, Damien.”

“Ma, I’m thirty, not ten. I know there’s something wrong, so tell me.” He knelt in front of her chair and looked her straight in the eyes, but she bent her head.

“Fine. I have a box of your father’s belongings, and it upset me.”

Excitement gripped his stomach, causing manly rollercoaster flips. The last thing she needed was to see how excited he was over his dad’s stuff. It had devastated her when his dad died, and she’d refused to talk about him afterward. Maybe she was a little jealous of Damien getting his father’s effects as well.

“Ma, it’s okay to be sad and regret his death. I do too. But he’s my dad and I want to feel close to him. Be like him.”

“Close to him? Be like him? That’s the last thing I want.” His mother pushed him away and jumped out of the seat, pacing in front of him. As suddenly as the spurt of energy hit, grief took its toll again and she slumped back into the chair. “As to being sad, I am. I made the last few years of your father’s life hell. I couldn’t handle it. Handle him. I wasn’t strong enough and I resented the hold it had over him. I asked him to leave just before that last job. He was thinking of other things when they killed him, and it was my fault.”

Damien rocked back on his heels.
What the hell
? “What couldn’t she handle?” He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until she’d answered him.

“Your father’s true nature. It tore us apart. I don’t want you to become like me or like him. That’s why I never talked about him. I hoped that would be enough, but it isn’t. Go look at his things, Damien. He said you were special and on your birthday, you would have to make a choice. Look at his things.”

His mother pushed herself upright again and gestured to his old bedroom before grabbing her purse and heading to the front door. “I’ll be back later. Right now you have something else to do.”

Sheer confusion bubbled away inside him like a pot of boiling water. Shaking his head, he stood and moved toward his room and the link to his dead father. He pushed the door open and spotted the box on his bed straight away. He felt as if it had a neon sign on it saying ‘life-altering moment right here’.

He reached for the lid of the box and snagged the first item on the top—a photo album. After easing onto the bed, he opened the album. Pictures of him and his dad stared back. Bittersweet emotions filled his throat like a chunk of bile. He’d had so little time with him. They’d spent every moment they could together, sometimes to the point of excluding his mother. Was that what she’d meant? Had she been jealous of their time together?

He put the photos down and tipped the box out. His mother hadn’t kept many things, but she kept the things that meant the most—the photos, his father’s wedding ring and watch. Even an old collar from his father’s favorite dog. He bit back a chuckle. The dog had always been treated like a god in his house. No one else could even understand it. His father hadn’t had much to do with their pet, because of allergies, but his dad always said he was part of the family.

Grabbing the collar, he hissed as something pierced his finger. Sucking the blood off, he reached more carefully for the collar this time. As his fingers connected with it, Damien’s head reared back in an arch of pain. Thunder slammed down into his mind and bright flashes of chaotic disco light danced behind his eyes. The pain receded and he was about to open his eyes again when the flashes of color coalesced into pictures. Moving pictures of his father and him playing together.

What the…?

Concentrating on the images, he let them flow. Saw his mother and father in the hospital having him. The arguments. His mother crying and his father gesturing to his small son. Images kept on flowing. Their pet dog playing with his young self in their backyard that backed onto the nature preserve. Saw the dog defending him from wild dogs that attacked him. Flinched as his mother ran out, screaming. Bowed his head as he watched another picture of his mother and father yelling. He’d known they’d fought sometimes, but this was out of control. Had his mother driven his father away?

Another vision tore through him. His dog running into the preserve, tracking the wild dogs that had tried to hurt him. His dog had disappeared the same day as his father. Later, his dad’s body was found torn to pieces. He’d never blamed his dog as everyone else had. He’d always thought those wild dogs had killed them both.

Damien concentrated on a new vision. His dog fighting the other wild dogs, winning until others had crept up behind him. He could tell these were rogues, hyped up on the blood and the kill. Their claws glistened as if they’d been dipped in silvery liquid before slicing into his dog. The last downward slash flashed through the air in slow motion and the deep gush of blood as it bit deep. The claw parted sinew and tendons until it hit bone before smashing through to his pet’s heart and crushing it.

Bowing his head, Damien fought the swell of emotion at the sight of his companion’s death. He’d loved that animal, had told him everything. He’d known the animal would never leave except for something major. Now he knew. Death had come calling and his dog had fought as much as he’d been able to, but odds of six to one were never even.

The other animals slunk away. He heard their calling jeers. The body of his dog lay prone until it shivered and contorted. Had his dog lived a little longer? If Damien hadn’t been keeping his eye on his pet, he would have missed the slight movement. Missed the flexing of its claw as it dug into the earth then clenched itself into a human fist…

Human, not animal…

Male, not canine…

Hands with a wedding ring just like the one next to him…

Not a dog paw.

The rest of the body quivered and dissolved into a naked man’s torn body. Pain and horror bent Damien over, keening a low tonal growl. Those animals hadn’t killed his pet. They’d killed a man in an animal’s form. They’d hunted him and his father had led them away from him and his mother. It had cost him his life. He was like Kyla, a Werewolf. A Lykos. No pet at all, but family. Always looking out for him, protecting Damien.

No wonder Kyla hadn’t shocked him senseless when she’d changed. He’d probably seen it hundreds of times before, but had been too young to recognize the significance of it.

“I asked him to leave us that day. I was worried that someone would find us and kill you. Those animals were part of a rogue pack. Your dad was an animal control park ranger who patrolled the preserve behind us. But the pack tracked him to our house and attacked you. I got you inside, screamed this was the last straw and he could leave. He left and led them away. They killed him, and it was my fault.”

Damien swiveled around to find his mother behind him, hunched over like an old woman.

“It wasn’t your fault. It was theirs.”

“He wouldn’t have been so reckless if I hadn’t fought with him. I was so scared of losing both of you, and I worried what you would become. I ruined our lives with my fears. Don’t let the same thing happen to you.”

He grabbed her in a bear hug. “Mom. Fate had something else in store for our family. I don’t think you could have changed anything, even without that fight. Why did you give me this now?”

His mother righted herself, patted her hair and finally looked him in the face. “He always said if anything happened to him to give you his medallion on your birthday. You’re a hybrid, a combination of two races, and you reach the change later than most. On their thirtieth, some will change and some won’t. I’m betting you’ll change and be like your father. I was always scared of it, but you’re stronger than me. You’ll handle it.”

He stared at the collar in his hand, but it had changed without his realizing into a necklace with a medallion attached to it. A copper or bronze circular disc that had a wolf and an owl on it. One just like Kyla, his wolf partner, wore.

Kyla. At the thought of his lover, he jerked upright. He had to go after her and explain all this. She needed to know. “Mom, I have to go. But you did the right thing and I love you. Okay? I’ll be back soon, but there’s something I have to do.”

His mother followed him to the door and gave him a hug, already looking younger as the weight of her pain and grief rolled off her. Damien grinned back at her and closed the door on the welcome sight of her first grin in a long time. This was a release for both of them, maybe…

Pain splintered his head and heart, tearing and ripping. After he dropped to the ground, he crawled around the side of the house. He couldn’t let his mother see him. This would terrorize her. Grabbing the fence, he hauled himself upright as the pain diminished to a capable level.

What the hell?

Had the vision triggered something? Was this the change? A heavy Mack truck of pain hit him again. This time through the pain, he heard something. Heard a voice. A woman screaming his name.

Kyla? She was in trouble. That was
her
voice. Standing upright, he forced his mind away from the gnawing pain.

He was not going to let this woman down. It didn’t matter which one of them was furry. She was his partner and she needed help.

Chapter Seven

Kyla hit the compound at a run. Pushing herself hadn’t helped. It had just made her stink with a sweat that still smelled of Damien. “Damn it,” she cursed. She’d left the Aston at Damien’s house. Artie would kill her when she found out. That was after she first ripped her to shreds for sleeping with Damien.

A voice hailed her as she moved toward the gate. Eric, her cousin. He was in charge of Beaver, the last victim. He’d have shifted the body for burial and notified his parents, thank God. It was one task she didn’t think she was up to today.

“Kyla. You okay?”

She took a deep breath and turned to face him. “Did you tell Beaver’s parents?”

“Artie had a crisis of conscience and did it herself.”

She snorted, despite feeling low about Damien. A good joke still made her laugh. “Please, you trying to crack a funny this early in the morning? Artemis doesn’t have one.”

“Well, this time she did her own dirty work and told Beaver’s parents and litter mates. How are you? Is Damien okay?”

“As fine as you can be when you’ve just seen the biggest freak of your life jump out of your bed and change into a wolf. What do you think?” Kyla strode through the gate and headed straight for her house. Damned if she’d have the third degree out in the open.

“Kyla, you’re not a freak. None of us are. You’re in law enforcement as much as he is and you have centuries of experience. He’ll come round. You’ll see.” Eric grabbed the door she’d flung open then closed it gently behind him.

“You look human. You just live longer and have better sex. I have a tail, shed fur and have doggy breath that strips paint.”

“If he loves you, he won’t care what you are. And let me remind you… When I met Missy, I was invisible and naked, jacking off while she wrote a love scene. Not a moment to inspire a non-freaky, happily ever after.”

She spun around and faced him, holding out the silver streak in her hair. “This is what love is, Eric. You were lucky with Missy. The last man I told tried to kill me, and I was in a coma for a year. I’m reminded of that every time I stare in the mirror.”