The Legend of the Werewolf: Things in the Night, #2

By Mandy Rosko

He didn't sign up for this...

 

Mike Carter is a psychic detective in a city that's not supposed to exist, but he needs a break. When the woman he loves gets married to someone else, he decides to go back home to try and connect with his estranged family. 

That's put on hold when he has a terrifying vision and is attacked by a powerful sorcerer, who also happens to be a psychotic killer. When he thinks his number is up, a beautiful woman comes to his aid. She's a werewolf, and she has every intention of kidnapping Mike and taking him back to her pack. 

Anne believes she's found the missing link in werewolf history in Mike, and she is such a believer in the legends that she's not willing to let him leave. Mike wants to find out why he's wanted for dead, and what the werewolf legend really means, and with Anne's help, she'll pull him into a world even he didn't know existed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mandy Rosko
• Release date: Apr 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781507083284

Mandy Rosko

USA Today Bestselling and award winning author Mandy Rosko loves writing paranormal romances with werewolves, dragons and people with special powers. She is the author of the Things in the Night Series, Night and Day, and the Dangerous Creatures Series.She does M/F, M/M, a touch of medieval under her other pen name, Rizzo Rosko, and pretty much anything else she's in the mood to write (which makes things confusing for readers since that means she's too much of a flake to stick to any one brand).Favorite authors right now are anyone who writes dangerous and tortured heroes ;)If you want to keep up to date on the sexy guys in my hot new releases, then sign up for my Newsletter and receive a free copy of The Vampire's Curse: http://mandyrosko.com/contact.htmlAnd on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MandyRoskoRomanceThings in the Night Series:The Vampire's CurseThe Legend of the WerewolfThe Shepard's AgonyThe Dragon and the Wolf (A prequel novella)Night and Day Series:Night and DayThe Calm Before The StormAll Hell Breaking LooseBook Four Coming Soon!Dangerous Creatures:Burns Like FireA Shock To Your SystemAs Cold As Ice Coming December 8th 2015

Book preview

1

A small bar somewhere in California

Mike Carter tilted his head back, swallowed his shot of whiskey. He contemplated getting back in his car, turning around and going home while he was still sober enough to drive.

He looked at the clock, then called to the bartender and ordered another. Fuck it, he'd get a room and sleep before getting on the road again. He kind of wanted to get drunk anyway, let the alcohol blur everything away.

Anything to put off the visit to his family.

Mike had taken some much needed vacation time and left Griffon City. He hadn’t planned to make the trip to California to visit his family until after the woman he loved had settled down with someone else.

He hoped Jackie was enjoying planning her wedding to McKane. The lucky fucking bastard.

Goddamn. Losing her stung. Though she’d promised to always be his friend and all that shit, he needed to make himself scarce for the wedding.

Watching Jackie prepare to have a family with vampire boy made Mike think about his own family. He hadn’t seen them in years. It was time to make peace. The problem was that they were the ones to kick him out.

But, he was tired of having nothing. He also wanted to see how his little brother was doing. Bud had been just a little kid when Mike left. Maybe he, at least, would be happy to see Mike return.

Now, with several depressing drinks inside him and maybe an hour or so left before he reached his destination, driving the day and a half back to his empty apartment seemed appealing.

Fuck. Courageous Officer Carter scared of facing the family that disowned him.

Mike tipped his hat up with the rim of his glass and rested his hot forehead against the cool sweat building there.

He really needed to relax. Perhaps, a little fun was in order. Mike lifted his head and scanned the bar.

The place was mostly empty against the slow country music playing in the background. It was a weeknight and most people had to work in the morning. However, that didn't stop the patrons who were in the bar from drinking.

Of the few women he saw, one who drank alone and appeared to be in her sixties and another who celebrated her twenty-first birthday with two of her girlfriends—though he doubted it was her first time having a drink—only one caught his eye.

Late twenties, slim with pale, blonde hair that had a slight curl to it, rose-pink lips and big, blue eyes. Nice.

The problem was that she already had the attention of two men focused solely on her.

Her thick hair framed her heart shaped face as she quietly spoke to her companions. Her voice was so low he couldn't catch what she said, her face and eyes were alight, as though she were having a passionate discussion.

Mike squinted for a better look. One of the men, who nodded along intently with what she said, could very well be related to her. A twin even, considering the hair color and shade of skin.

His pale hair was cut short and gelled to spike out at the top of his forehead. Though he and the woman were both sitting, he estimated that they were of the same height. And, while he wore a blue striped shirt compared to her white tank, they both sported jeans that were fading at the stress points.

The other man couldn't have been more different. The fact that he was sitting in this bar meant that he was of age, but barely.

Baggy, black jeans were accented with a metal chain around his waist. His spiked hair matched his blood-red T-shirt, which revealed a red, European-style, dragon tattoo on his arm.

As if sensing his eyes on her, the woman stopped talking and turned her head in movie-style slow motion, looking directly at him.

As his eyes met her blue ones, lust shot through him like lightning. Her mouth dropped at the shock of being watched. Then she smiled, revealing sexy white teeth.

He smiled back, mentally telling his cock to relax for a few more minutes.

This was looking promising already.

Both men turned to see where her attention had gone. The one with ruby red hair glared fire at him. The blond, who looked like he could be her brother, nudged his friend with his elbow. It worked and the riled up kid turned his attention back to the conversation they were having with the woman.

Mike caught sight of a crescent-moon birthmark on the blond man's right cheek. He froze.

Werewolf.

What was a werewolf doing in this bar?

Curious, Mike attempted to dip into their thoughts. Something he usually tried to avoid, but he had had enough alcohol to take care of ethical apprehension.

He couldn't get far into any of their heads. Figured.

The woman and the punk rocker kid may or may not be wolves, but they were definitely something. Rocker Kid and Twin Brother were also adamant that he stay the hell away from the woman. He could tell that much without seeing into their heads.

Hopes of hot, sweaty, fleshy sex shot to shit, Mike returned to his drink.

Bloodthirsty thoughts—like someone was hungry enough to kill and eat the corpse—slithered through Mike’s head. He leapt from his chair just as it exploded and fiery splinters showered around him.

The patrons screamed, shoving their chairs back with a screech as they swarmed to the exit, pushing against each other in an effort to squeeze out of the suddenly too small doors.

Mike rolled to his knees and lifted his head. Another ball of fire, much like the first, flew at him like a meteor.

He rolled to the side, hearing the crash before he saw the hole it blew into the counter behind him. Flaming wood chips flew into his face like burning matches. He shielded his eyes with his arm.

He took shelter behind one of the overturned tables, put his back to it. His hand went for his gun holster and found it missing.

Oh, yeah. Vacation. No weapons. Son of a bitch.

The laughing voice of his attacker made him grit his teeth. You will not escape me this time.

This time? Listen pal, I’m not sure what your problem is, but I've never seen you before in my life. Which was true, in fact. He had yet to see what the guy looked like at all. He was too busy getting out of the way of heavy fire.

Mike lifted himself enough to gaze over the table. No sign of any patrons injured or otherwise. Maybe someone called the local law enforcement. Good.

He couldn't see his attacker. Bad.

He had to move. There weren't many places a man could hide in such a small place, but he stayed low as he made his way back to the bar.

The suspect was still out of sight. Mike strained his ears but detected no sounds of footsteps. He snatched his black Stetson from the floor and returned it to its rightful place on his head. The fact that it hadn't been burned in all the blasting was a miracle. It was his favorite hat.

The hairs of the back of his neck fizzed and stood on end.

A thousand years and you still haven't changed.

Mike spun and launched his heavy fist at the ratty voice whispering into his ear, hitting only air.

He unclenched his hand and stared stupidly at the empty space.

Right. The guy had magic. Mike should've seen this coming, but the ability to appear and disappear like that wasn't common.

You must be a pretty strong guy to do magic like that, Mike called out.

A long, pointed shard of wood from a bar stool sat on what was left of the bar. He picked it up and held it close, ready to use it if needed. Must have a lot practice. Years of honing the craft.

He didn't believe for a second what this psychopath said about a thousand years. Even vampires didn’t live so long. Mike had come across a few crazies in his career, none of which have ever believed they were immortal.

No matter how many times I kill you, you always return.

Mike spun again, holding the stake out to strike but this time the man stood well out of reach, not bothering to teleport himself anywhere.

Now that Mike could see him, he could say with complete certainty that he was not familiar with him.

The man was short, around five-five, with thinning, black hair that he gelled over his balding head. Loose-fitting, black robes hung over his body like something out of Harry Potter. He linked his long fingers together in front of him, staring calmly, as though the destruction lying around his feet didn’t exist.

Mike’s body remained tense, waiting for a fight. Where did you come from?

As I expected, you remember nothing. You never do.

He glared and bared his teeth. Who the hell are you? You're attacking a Griffon City cop. The law doesn't look kindly on that.

The suspect shrugged. Only if we are in that particular city. It is to my understanding that men of the law who hail from cities that do not exist are not men of the law outside of them.

Shit.

The small man in black pulled a round, fist sized stone from the folds of his robe. It glowed in his hand and he stared at it lovingly. Mike knew it could only mean trouble.

So many years have passed since she left us. I can still remember her face, but you cannot. You can never understand why we continue with this game.

Mike inched closer while the man in black spoke into the stone. If he could apprehend him, fine. If not, then at least he would be close enough to get some decent hits in.

It's the full moon tonight. Perhaps, if I kill you while under the moon she will return. I've never tried that before.

She? Like a vortex that he was being sucked into, Mike was pulled against his will into a vision.

It was him. Or, at least, a man who looked a lot like him. The differences were noticeable though.

His hair was longer, reaching his shoulders, and the clothes were old and worn. Practically rags. Medieval. Tunic, hose and leather boots that were not properly sewn.

He stood in a clearing surrounded by trees in the moonlight. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen stood before him. She glowed like a Goddess. Their hands clasped together, and the way they gazed into each other’s eyes made their feelings apparent.

It was the woman from the bar. The one who'd been sitting with the Punk Rocker kid and her Twin Brother.

Mike blinked and shook his head, freeing himself from the image. He'd figure out what it meant later.

Mike tucked the pointed end of his weapon away and lunged to tackle the man. A shadowy figure leaped at him mid-way to his target, catching him in the air and pushing him to the cement floor.

Mike punched desperately, missing his mark each time. Could he be that fast? He punched again, his hand sailing right through the head of the image like smoke. The shadowy figure actually was a shadow. Mike was fighting something he couldn’t touch.

Another shadow took the shape of a human, captured his wrist and wrestled the stake from his hand while another grabbed his ankles and held them securely to the floor.

Mike strained his muscles, fighting against them until his face burned with the effort. To no avail, they were too strong for him, holding him down like he was nothing. Quite an accomplishment considering his size and build.

I am your Lord, Hadrian Vaughan. And you, you are my servant. Struggle all you like, it will not do you any good. These creatures can touch but cannot be touched, and they will only obey my command.

Mike hated the calm note in the man's voice, how he stared down at him impassively. He wanted to punch him just to see the reaction. Then command for them to release me before I make you regret it. I am not your servant.

Hadrian sniffed loudly, waving a limp hand at his shadow soldiers. Take him outside.

Mike was lifted in the air by his hands and feet. His violent struggles were like a child struggling against a parent for all the good they did. Stop it! I'm not who you think I am!

You never are. Hadrian muttered as Mike was carried to the now vacant parking lot and set down in the center.

Please, God, let someone have phoned the cops.

His hands and feet were pressed into the asphalt. He groaned as rocks cut into his flesh and his circulation was cut off. Again, without meaning to, his thoughts wandered into the mind of his attacker turned kidnapper.

He saw Hadrian in the same black clothes with the same uncaring look on his pinched face holding the same round stone. However, the stone wasn’t glowing. He stood over a dying man.

Again, the man looked like Mike, but this version was different from the medieval one. He was tall with broad shoulders and shortly cropped, black hair. The tight breeches tucked into leather boots and waist coat suggested that the victim had either just come from a costume party or been killed in the regency era.

The man turned on his back and coughed blood, red speckles dotting his face. Mike forgot to breathe as he saw himself die.

No! Mike was yanked from his vision when the shadow hands left him. He shot to his feet, ready to fight but was blinded by a piercing light in his eyes.

Come on! A woman's voice screamed to him. Though red spots colored his eyes, he followed the sound of her voice. A hand grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. Through his leather jacket he felt small, feminine fingers, and though they were incredibly strong, he knew not to attack.

He forced his eyes to open wider. At first he could only make out a small black silhouette, then a curly head of blonde hair. As his vision returned, he recognized the woman from the bar.

She had a powerful, huge flashlight in her hand and was directing its beam at the shadow men.

They advanced, she hit them with the light and they retreated. Advance, light, retreat. Nifty trick.

Who are you? he demanded.

Don't you sound grateful? I'm the one saving your ass!

Mike's eyes searched for Hadrian.

He killed me. I saw him kill me. But no, it was impossible. The man in the vision was a look alike.

Mike was going to bring that weasel-faced warlock to justice for it.

He killed you? What did you say?

Mike ignored her. He hadn’t realized he spoke out loud.

Hadrian struggled on his back, clawing, twisting and fighting against the jaws of a grey wolf. Too distracted by the teeth to use his magic.

The glowing orb was thrown from his hands in the struggle. Mike ran away from the safety of the girl with the powerful flashlight and snatched it up.

Thanks, pal. He ducked as one of the shadows leaped for him. Hadrian screamed his rage, but Mike ignored him, too busy dodging the rest of the shadows until he made it back beside his rescuer.

An arrest would have to wait until he could figure out how to beat those shadows.

Are you crazy? What did you leave for? she screamed, still fighting against the onslaught of shadow men who got back up as soon as she knocked them down.

He couldn't explain it but, if the stone in his hand had something to do with Hadrian's power to kill, he had to take it. I went to get this.

He put the rock under her nose and she froze the second her eyes landed on it.

It still glowed in his hand. Looking to see what had her so transfixed, he saw the crescent moon engraved in the round orb.

One of the shadows slinked up to her side. She was so drawn to the stone that she didn't see it. He grabbed her arms and thrust her around so the beam of light hit the creature. The shadow disintegrated as though it had been melted with a laser.

Her chest heaved like she’d just ran a marathon. Thanks, she breathed.

Anytime.

The screech of tires drew them from the fighting as a red truck fishtailed through the small army of shadows, temporarily dissipating them. It stopped directly in front of Mike and his new best friend.

Before the driver flashed on the high beams, Mike caught sight of the red haired kid with the dragon tattoo.

He stuck his head out the window. Get in!

The woman ran to the truck and Mike obediently followed. He put it back in drive and yelled out the window again. Westley! Get over here!

He started to drive before the silver wolf jumped from his victim. He managed to run fast enough that he jumped into the back of the truck before they turned the corner.

The red-head checked behind him to make sure the wolf named Westley was securely in place before hitting the gas, shooting them well over the speed limit. We need to get out of here. Who was that guy? As if remembering that Mike was in the truck with them, he stared at him. And who are you?

Look, I don't want any trouble. I don't even know who that was. He searched for the moon rock again to show him, ask if they knew what it was since they were obviously paranormal and one was definitely a werewolf. But he didn't have it.

Where did …?

He looked up as the woman smashed the rock into his head. A flash of white blinded him before it was replaced with black.

He wasn’t entirely passed out when she said, I think I know who they are. Take us home.

Whatever you say, princess.

2

Annie, it was incredibly stupid for you to bring him here.

She stared at her feet, tried to avoid the heat in her pack master's rising voice and the humiliation of hearing him use her little-girl name. I know.

He's not even part of this pack!

She cringed, feeling the vibrations of his stomping feet against the hardwood floor as he paced back and forth like a wild animal.

Gordon had never been known for his patience. However, after she came back to the ranch with an unconscious human and a story to tell, she couldn’t blame him.

She was only trying to help. Maybe you're being too hard on her.

Relief like cool water over a hot burn washed over her when her grandfather's voice came to her rescue.

Gordon whipped his grey head around to throw his anger at him. Stay out of this, Bill. She endangered the entire pack bringing him here, including my son.

Him being the stranger she, Westley, and Chris rescued from the bar.

She still didn't know what prompted her to go back for him. A warlock with that kind of power was nothing to mess with, but the second that strange man in black robes walked into the bar, his eyes honed in on the depressing looking figure drinking by himself.

The human had looked at her, perked up, and smiled in a way that made her forget that she had nothing to smile about. Maybe that was why she went back.

The hovering man in black didn’t move on, take a seat and order a drink as patrons were prone to do. He stared at the man as though he’d just found his worst enemy. The man who borrowed money without paying it back, slept with his wife and burned down his house all in one night.

The lone wolf was in danger. He had to be. Anne’s hunch proved correct when the warlock sent an explosive ball of fire at his back before she could shout a warning.

The man in the cowboy hat must have Jedi reflexes to have been able to get out of the way of something like that so fast.

Or just the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.

He wasn't wearing his hat now. Anne held it in front of her like a shield while Gordon grilled her. The source of his anger lying on the old, brown couch on the other side of the cabin under a faded knit blanket, unconscious and unaware of the argument.

Westley stepped forward. Dad, it's not her fault. If I wanted, I could've ordered her not to go back.

Then you damn well should have. Gordon hissed, turning his attention back to her.

This is beyond disappointing. That you could find it in you to interfere with something like this over a fairy tale. You don't even know what he was being attacked for. For all you know, he's dangerous. He slammed the stone with the crescent moon engraving onto the rickety coffee table.

Anne cringed and stared at the rock, searching for any cracks. There were none she could see.

The stone stopped glowing but that didn't make it any less valuable. Listening to him talk down to her and then slamming the stone like a worthless children’s toy, sent her anger off like a screaming tea kettle.

Does this mean the wedding's off?

Gordon’s face puffed out and turned red. His eyes glared and became insane. Anne refused to be stared down.

Still, it was an odd sight. Like an older version of Westley glaring daggers at her. It didn't look right.

He pointed a large finger in her face. Don't tempt me.

She opened her mouth to argue that it was exactly what she wanted to do, but the sight of her grandpa out of the corner of her eye stopped her.

He wasn't sending her any signals to stop, just standing there waiting for her to make her decision.

If she called off the union with Westley she would have to leave the pack. She would have to leave her best friend and her grandfather.

Anne said nothing. She lowered her head to hide the anger burning on her face as Gordon snatched his leather jacket from one of the chairs and stormed out of the cabin.

He's your responsibility now! Figure out what to do with him! He yelled, slamming the screen door behind him.

Anne's shoulders slumped. She brought her hand up and bit her knuckle while battling back the sudden swell in her throat. Westley put his arm around her shoulders but she shrugged him off and stepped away.

The last thing she needed was to look like she and him actually had something together. Thank God Chris dropped them off and left. Otherwise, who knew how much trouble they'd really be in?

I'm sorry, Annie. Westley moved toward the screen door. She didn’t mind so much when he used that name on her. I'll talk to him.

When he left, Anne felt remarkably better.

Her grandpa put his arms around her in a comforting hug. She didn't shrug him off like she'd done with Westley.

Instead, she turned into him and hugged back. He wore his thick brown