Hexual Healing (Hex Appeal) Read online

  Gradually the tempo of his movements changed and Miz clung to him, following his rhythm. She was satiated and yet her pussy clenched hungrily, flexing like a catcher readying his mitt.

  Yes, the thought resonated in her head. Yes. Her nipples were sensitized nubs brushing his chest as Thomas tightened his grip on her rump. His back arched as his hips jerked, delivering the pitch. It was glorious. He drenched her core in molten cum and her womb swallowed greedily, draining him.

  She liked everything about fucking him bareback. They’d worked through that issue during the summer. First of all, he was a shifter and he didn’t get human diseases like—well, like humans. And as a healer, she didn’t catch crap either. So she kept her don’t-get-pregnant shots up to date and they dispensed with condoms. He was so big and she fit so tight around him, she could feel the veins in his bare cock brush against her pussy walls. She was going to miss it.

  Reality set in. Still inside her, Thomas stood with his head resting on her shoulder. She nudged him until his head came up and he held her gaze.

  “That was real nice. You can put me down now.” Just call me Miz Congeniality. She didn’t care. She wasn’t into pretending that things were cool between them.

  He looked tired. As she watched, the color of his eyes morphed from dark brown to amber. He smiled and said in a tone she wanted to mistake for tender but suspected was exhaustion, “I missed you too.”

  “So spit out your excuse so you can be on your way.” Fiercely Miz cupped his face between her palms and glared at him. “You’re not sick or maimed. There’s no visible scarring. Your eyes are steady and you don’t look crazed or possessed.” She dropped her arm and caught his hand in hers. “Where have you been?”

  Chapter Three

  Thomas flashed white teeth that looked more like fangs. She’d read up on jaguars. It wasn’t a smile he was bestowing on her. Determined to get some answers, Miz held on to his hand. “Tell me…” She didn’t have to probe.

  He flooded her mind with images from the last month—him standing behind the shoulder of Shep Buchanan, the other man falling to the ground, the jaguar, creeping on his belly through thick shrubs, feline claws scoring human flesh. She recognized that scene from the dream she’d had. The silent movie sped on until she saw Thomas in man form leaning over a hospital bed where Shep Buchanan lay.

  “Why are you here?” she asked, slapped sober by the images. It didn’t matter what his body said, it wasn’t sex on Thomas’ mind. Might as well cut to the chase and just say no to whatever he wanted.

  “I need your help.” No big surprise there.

  “Do you need to hide out?” Miz asked. The jaguar had looked pretty damn focused in the glimpse she’d gotten. “Did you kill someone?” Actually, her wards could keep folks away from him for a long time, like forever if he was so inclined.

  “Not yet,” Thomas answered grimly. “I need your help in DC.” His hand pulsed truth and Miz shivered as cold frosted her heart and etched her limbs.

  “Well now, ain’t you just the one,” she drawled, layering her sarcasm in country pride. She’d actually been thinking about ways to leave West Virginia. Not seriously. But some.

  She knew Thomas wanted her body for the wrong reasons, her being a natural purveyor of female come-hither pheromones. But she wanted to use his body too, and her reasons weren’t much better. He was a natural receptacle for her power.

  But enjoying mutually beneficial sex was a lot different than using her talents for his purposes. She’d been down the exploitation road and she wasn’t interested in a return visit. Her gifts were her own. She’d never be anyone’s lie detector again and as soon as she dumped her half of Hands-On, she’d be finished with healing on command. “So you wanna be my new pimp. I thought I’d rid myself of that burden when we took care of Hank.” Knowing why Thomas was back hurt a lot more than it should. Apparently he wanted to use the weird abilities she’d been cursed with the same way the werewolf alpha had.

  Miz glared at him. So much for her vanity. She’d at least hoped he’d missed her as much as she’d missed him. Requited lust or not, she swept him with a look of disgust— she wanted to knee him in the groin.

  “You don’t get to hole up here in Bitter Creek Holler anymore.”

  “You don’t get to are words I don’t listen to,” Miz reminded him. “You best remember that, Sunny.”

  “This isn’t about us. This is government business. I didn’t share any of your secrets with Buchanan, but Shep’s from these parts, same as you,” Thomas said grimly.

  “Shep Buchanan is about as much a homeboy as you are. He—” Miz didn’t get to finish telling him her opinion of her neighbor.

  “Somebody pried open his brain and scooped out the contents. If your name is filed in there somewhere along with information about the local werewolf pack, you’re in danger. You’re coming with me.”

  So he was back to save her? Like a superhero? He left her to mull that over and investigated her closet. She frowned. She hadn’t thrown his clothes out. She should have. As she watched, he pulled on his sweats and then waved the new cowboy boots at her.

  “I want to see you naked wearing nothing but these when we get back,” he growled.

  She loved those boots. They were made from rich chocolate leather, about the same color of mahogany as Thomas’ skin. Just looking at the turquoise and peach flowers embroidered on the eleven-inch shaft made her smile. They were girlie boots and it tickled her feminine side that Thomas had chosen them for her.

  But they weren’t helpless, oh save me boots for sure. The wide, square toe would work fine for landing a solid kick, and the leather came up high enough to protect her leg when she rode the Harley. They were pretty much perfect boots, with their double welt stitching, spur ledge and roper heel. Not that she’d looked all that close. She glared at Thomas.

  “I’m not going anyplace. And you don’t need to come back once you leave.”

  “You’re wasting time, Miz. Get a move on. I can’t leave you here unprotected and I need your help in DC. End of chapter, beginning of new.”

  He’d come back because he was concerned about her. Okay, he wanted to use her too, but he wanted to protect her. Her anger cooled.

  “You don’t have to worry about me, Thomas. My wards are good. Nobody’s going to—”

  “Wards and spells be damned, the agency’s been compromised, Shep Buchanan’s in a fugue state and currently exhibiting the intelligence of a head of broccoli. I need your help. I can’t trust anyone else.”

  Some of the ice melted from her veins. “I can’t be gone more than forty-eight hours, Thomas. I mean it. If you trust me, know that I’m not kidding. Two days, that’s all I can be gone without getting a…” Hmm, how to explain that the house had to have a Hess in residence all the time?

  “Longer than that, and I have to get one of my cousins to come and stay.” There, that was enough information.

  “I’ll have you back in two days. I’m ready. How about you?” Thomas retrieved his canvas boat shoes from the corner where she’d tossed them and slipped his feet into them.

  She was already stuffing her kit and some clothes in a knapsack, preparing to leave when she remembered her massage parlor. “How will my clients—”

  “You have a partner,” Thomas cut off her excuse, suddenly all business. “She owes you for saving her life.”

  Which was true. Jenny had been in wolf form, dying—death by lethal beating with a silver club. Miz had healed the she-wolf only to witness the bitch shift into her partner and once friend. Their relationship had been more than a little strained since then.

  “Got an address, or do I let my hands divine the way?” she asked sarcastically, pulling on her usual boots and leather jacket.

  “DC. I’m navigator.”

  Ten minutes later, she’d left Jenny a message, set her wards in place and they were weaving through the potholes marking the path out of Bitter Creek Holler. It was still raining like a sonofabitch and
visibility was less than perfect.

  “We could have caught a plane, driven my car, ridden on Amtrak. Hell, walking would be better than this.”

  She stopped the Harley on that complaint. “You can get the hell off, jump through the trees, retrieve your vehicle at Shep’s place and leave me in peace if you’re going to whine.”

  But he wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, snapped his teeth at her again and growled. She resumed their journey, not because he scared her but because it made her happy to hear Thomas bitching in her ear. The truth was, she planned to have her own ride gassed up and ready to return home with or without Thomas.

  Dream on, baby. Thomas squeezed her waist and leaned forward, pressing his chest to her back as they flew around the slick mountain curves.

  “Hold tight.” When they reached the main road, she kicked her Harley into high speed. It wasn’t late, but the troopers were either hibernating in their squad cars or at the scene of a crime because the highway was clear of traffic. In spite of the rain, they made good time.

  Miz pulled into a truck stop in Lexington, Virginia, to gas up. Thomas dismounted, slid his credit card in the pay slot and looked for the gas tank.

  “If you’re going to hang with me, Sunny, you need to learn one end of the hog from the other.” Miz pointed it out, swung off the leather seat and replaced her butt with her helmet.

  She shook her head, clearing the fuzz from her brain. They’d just dropped a thousand feet in elevation and the air here felt thick and sluggish.

  Might be a waste of time and fuel. She’d questioned her ability to use her talents when she wasn’t surrounded by the old mountains they’d left behind. Ironically, as she worried about leaving familiar magic, her hands throbbed, demanding she proceed.

  It was interesting. She’d thought a lot lately about leaving the state. This was her first trip out—ever. Thomas didn’t need to know that she was that untraveled. Nevertheless, it pleased her to carry her mantle of magic with her as she headed for the restaurant where the smell of coffee beckoned. It would have been a bitch to have nothing to complain about in the future.

  She made a quick detour to the ladies’ room to pee. Washing up afterwards, she tried to avoid looking in the mirror but when she slathered on a layer of lip balm, she couldn’t avoid seeing the sweaty strands of hair poking out of her blue skullcap.

  Now ain’t that just a freakin’ fashion statement? She grimaced and bared her teeth at herself as she washed her face.

  In the restaurant, she paid for two coffees and proceeded to the self-serve counter where she poured Thomas’ black and capped it. She could see him waiting by the Harley outside and tore the top off four creamer packets for her own brew.

  As she looked out the plate glass window, a man drifted to Thomas’ side. About the same time, a big guy in a suit joined her behind the coffee stand. Casually he stood with his back to the security camera, blocking her face as well as his own. Whether it was intentional or not, she couldn’t say.

  “Miss Hess, I’m Eric Case, NSA.” Flashing his badge at her before offering his card, he said, “We’d like to ask you some questions.”

  Well, damn, she’d not more than tiptoed into another state and the feds were waiting. Since there was only one of him standing in front of her, Miz thought the we a tad silly. No point in riling him though. “Am I under arrest?”

  “No, but I assure you, it’s in your boyfriend’s best interest if you talk to us.” He nodded toward the Harley where Thomas and the other man stood.

  Boyfriend, huh. Nice to know we’re a couple in the eyes of Uncle Sam. Miz shed her right glove and stirred her coffee after adding two more packets of creamer. Still not quite the right color. She whitened the coffee two shades lighter, stirred and sipped before she gave her attention to the card and the man holding it.

  “Okay, let’s talk. Call me Miz.” She took his card and his hand at the same time, testing the connection. You okay, Sunny?

  A rumbled mental growl was her answer. Thomas was linked in, prepared to play, and truth-finder was primed and ready.

  “Now, boyo,” Miz murmured softly, gazing into Mister NSA’s eyes as her palm clasped his. “Tell me all about yourself.”

  It was a pain in the ass being a truth-sayer, but times like now it was handy too. His expression changed from disciplined professional to happy-sappy ready to give up all his secrets.

  “My name is Eric Case. I’m thirty-four, married and have three children. Bowling is the excuse I use to get out of the house when I want to run.” Miz rolled her eyes. Men always blabbed about their extracurriculars right off.

  “You cheat on your wife?” she asked.

  “Never.” He looked appalled. “I hide my other half from her. She doesn’t know what I am.”

  “And what are you?”

  For a moment his eyes became those of a beast. She increased the pressure on his hand and whispered, “Tell me.”

  “Werewolf,” he muttered. It was a strangled sound as his throat closed, trying to disobey her command.

  Miz kept checking on Thomas and Eric’s partner as she conducted the interrogation. “Why are you here?”

  “My partner and I followed Hunter from DC to your place.”

  Well, isn’t that nice. “Why?”

  “When he left Shep Buchanan’s side we knew something was up. He’s been guarding him. Now he’s not. We’re curious.” His eyes went wide and for a moment he almost overcame Miz’s hold on his mind. Drops of sweat beaded his forehead.

  “When he parked at Shep Buchanan’s place and took to the trees, we followed him.”

  “For what?”

  He frowned. “To see if you’re one of us, of course.”

  “What happens if I’m not?”

  “I don’t know.” And he was telling her the truth. He looked miserable. “We don’t tell humans about us.”

  “So are your kids like you?” Heck, Miz figured she’d get as much info from him as she could. Thomas sure didn’t give up much.

  “One of them, I think, maybe.”

  She felt sorry for him by the time she finished her questioning. She couldn’t wipe his memory completely. At least she doubted it since he was like Thomas, sort of a man with two different brains. But she could slow him down considerably. At least until Thomas and she got on their way.

  Miz pressed two fingers against his brow, introducing herself to his inner world. Her probe revealed the uncomplicated angst of a middle-aged guy with species issues and not the mind of a killer. She relaxed and beamed him advice. Tell your wife the truth, pay more attention to your kids and take up gardening. It will be good for your mojo.

  Then she planted the final information. Casting a quick look to make sure she didn’t have an audience, she gazed back at him and touched the vulnerable spot in the middle of his forehead. Heat pulsed into him from her fingers.

  “You’ve eaten something that doesn’t agree with you. You have to vomit and empty your stomach. Then, you need to rest. You have food poisoning.” Miz jolted him with enough power to make his knees buckle and his eyes dim. Good. Her magic was just as strong here as it was at home.

  She grabbed up the two Styrofoam cups and headed for the door, leaving the sound of retching behind. As she went past the front counter she gave the clerk a heads-up.

  “Man just puked by the coffee server.” Having distracted those inside, she strode to where Thomas and the other man waited next to her Harley.

  He’s got a gun. Stay back. Thomas’ order came through just fine. Miz continued walking and ignored it.

  “Your partner’s sick,” she told the other suit.

  For a moment the second agent glanced at the building behind her. Big mistake. Thomas slapped the gun out of his hand and threw his arm around the man’s shoulders as if they were friends, escorting him away from the gas pump and to the dark-colored sedan he’d arrived in.

  Miz bent, picked up the weapon he’d dropped and inspected the load. No surprise—sil
ver bullets. She walked to the sedan and planted her thumb in the middle of the cretin’s forehead, resisting the urge to fry the guy’s brain.

  “Forget you saw us here,” she told the agent. “We’re not who you’re looking for. Thomas Hunter went to his cabin and stayed there. You didn’t see him do anything out of the ordinary.”

  “Finish it, Miz,” Thomas growled.

  “Your partner has food poisoning. You need to take him home. You’ve been working too hard and you’re really tired. After you drop Eric off, you’re going to sleep in your car until morning.”

  “Better get Eric home.” The agent smiled happily at her, nodding. “I’m really tired. I’ve been working too hard. I’m taking the week off.” He headed for the store as Miz and Thomas returned to the bike. She had a feeling her mind plant worked a lot better on this guy. He didn’t even look back at them.

  “You sure keep interesting company, Sunny,” she drawled over her shoulder to Thomas as she put on her helmet, mounted and prepared to leave.

  “Yes.” He slid in behind her and pulled on his own headgear. Did you hear me tell you to stay away? His anger came through loud and clear.

  “Like I told you at home, I’m not too good at following orders.”

  Learn. His answer was a roar in her mind.

  Miz guided the bike from the parking lot and followed the back road to the interstate.

  Did you get all that information, Thomas?

  Yes.

  Eric’s with a sub-agency of the NSA. That’s who you work for, right?

  Yes.

  Thomas, it sounds like you’ve got trouble brewing in DC.

  Yes. When we get there, trust no one but me.

  West Virginians don’t trust strangers, Sunny. Miz chuckled. And these folks are all strangers to me.

  His worry spilled into her mind. Miz hauled ass and left I-64 where it merged with I-81 pointing toward Staunton. It was eerily quiet, the only sound in the night fat drops of water slapping the road and the steady rumble of the Harley’s engine.

  Miz was glad she’d worn her leathers, though the black material of her pants was saturated and clung to her legs. The heat from Thomas’ grip around her waist radiated through her body, keeping her from turning into a Popsicle. The rain didn’t stop until they reached DC three hours later.