Mr. and Mrs. Monster
Mr. and Mrs. Monster
ISBN #
978-1-78430-745-5
©Copyright Kelly Ethan 2015
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright September 2015
Edited by Faith Bicknell-Brown
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing,
Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
heat rating
of
Totally Sizzling
and a
Sexometer
of
2.
Vegas Mythbehaving
MR. AND MRS. MONSTER
Kelly Ethan
Book three in the Vegas Mythbehaving series
Her love life is in the kennel, and a deranged Werewolf killer is after her blood. What’s a girl to do but kick butt and take no prisoners?
When a girl’s a wolf, it’s hard to get a date. Especially when the man you’re hot for thinks you’re a dog—literally!
That’s the problem for Kyla Lykos, Captain of the Guard for the Greek Goddess Artemis. She’s a wolf undercover investigating the Werewolf murders. But the guy she wants to be up close and personal with is her human handler, Damien Theophilous. The sexy detective is helping her with cases, even if he doesn’t know it yet. But the bodies are piling up and someone has a grudge against her and her boss. Then there’s the problem of Damien, the man she just might love…
Can they save each other before the monster decides to dine?
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Google: Google, Inc.
Gone with the Wind
: Turner Entertainment, Inc.
Big Bad Wolf: The Walt Disney Company (France)
James Bond: Danjaq, LLC
Aston Martin: Aston Martin Lagonda Limited
Aston Martin Vanquish: Aston Martin Lagonda Limited
Krispy Kreme Donuts: HDN Development Corporation
Mack: Mack Trucks, Inc.
Lassie: Classic Media, LLC
Ferrari: Ferrari S.P.A.
Chapter One
Blood soaked the pavement of the alley. A pattern of red oozed its way along the brick wall in front of her and combined with the early morning light for a surreal effect. The guttural sound of someone retching behind her assaulted her ears. A quick glance showed the patrolman bent over, tossing up the contents of his stomach. Then the smell caught up to her and she winced at the aroma of stale onions mixed with vomit.
How gross. She shook her head. There were worse things to worry about right now. The body at her feet drew her wandering attention back to the matter at hand—or paw.
Damn it. The third body in a matter of weeks.
Another one of her people to be found like this. Luckily enough, the first body discovered had been a wolf. She hated the idea, but a wolf form caused less questions. At least it gave her more time to investigate. But the last two victims were in human form and that spelled trouble.
Kyla Lykos, police officer for the Gods and Demi-Gods alike, leaned forward, hoping to catch a sense of the assailant. The poor bastard in front of her had been new. He’d transferred in three days ago from Greece and was already dead, way before his time. Loup Garou, Werewolves, the cursed, whatever the label, lived a long time, but old age and silver still killed them.
Or skinning. Just like the other victims, the stretch and compression of white bone and ropey sinews glistened, on show for all to see.
Killed as an animal, he’d lived long enough to transform to a human before death. Scraping striations of whatever weapon used covered every inch of his body. The wounds appeared to have been made with a knife. No other metal but silver could injure or kill them. So the weapon had to be one hundred percent pure silver or the wolf, however young, would have fought the attacker off.
Emotions threatened to burst the carefully constructed area inside her.
Fear.
Pure, unadulterated anger.
Remorse.
Kyla gritted her teeth and fought down the bile pooling in her throat. She took a deep breath to calm her soul and stared again at the victim. He’d been in her charge. She’d been training him as a bodyguard for their boss, Artemis. The goddess liked young, strong wolves around her when she hunted criminals for the gods.
Tall, with long, curly peroxide-blonde hair and a body built like a professional weightlifter, Artemis—Artie to those in her inner circle—tended to draw notice wherever she went. So it paid to have bodyguards to deflect interest. Even though a god, Artie had to be careful. Exposure equaled bad.
Kyla had a feeling that Artie’s guards were being targeted on purpose and that meant someone obviously knew her boss. At every crime scene so far, something of Artie’s had been found. A priceless pewter jewelry box, a mother-of–pearl-inlaid hairbrush and, with this body, an ornate carved ivory hair comb. She’d managed to snaffle the other items before the normal cops could log them. They couldn’t risk exposure in the mortal world. It was unlikely any of these items could be traced to Artemis, but lately their luck had turned to crap.
She dropped to all fours in front of the body, but a sharp tug on her collar drew her to a halt. Fighting a growl, she flipped a glance over her shoulder. Her new partner, Damien Riley Theophilous, stood behind her. She didn’t do partners. But Damian wasn’t bad for a Greek-Irish mortal.
Kyla ran her gaze over him. He was an imposing figure of a man. Built like a heavyweight boxer with big shoulders and a tiny waist, but with a face of a choirboy, except for the twice-broken nose. Startling blue eyes framed by dark red unruly hair added to an olive complexion—not to mention those full lips that begged for a nibble.
His Greek-Irish DNA had duked it out in the gene pool and drawn a truce. A hybrid of both cultures with a nose only a mother loved, but his was a dominating presence. Her nipples tightened to hard points and a lump gathered in her throat. Making it hard to swallow.
Attraction to the opposite sex wasn’t a problem, but being in lust with an opposite species just might be. Her boss had strict rules about fraternization outside of the clan and the compound, but it did happen—just not to her. She had sworn never to go there after her last lover had hunted her with a silver crossbow. Admittedly, there had been a spate of killings by rogue wolves. But you’d think the park ranger would let love triumph over furry stuff… Obviously not.
Undercover had advantages, but starting a love affair with someone else who’d probably hunt her down and kill her, lost its appeal a second time around. Another tug on her shoulder had her snarling at her partner.
“Hey, Wolf, you PMSing or something? I thought we’d worked out that snarling at me is counterproductive. I’ll just growl back.” Damien shifted his partner out of the way and kneeled next to the victim. “Not a lot of blood here, is there? You’d think if you were peeled like a banana, you’d find a ton of blood.”
He frowned. “Killed elsewhere and dumped here? But why so close to the Olympus Casino where the killer might be disturbed?”
Kyla kept silent for a few moments as she watched her partner. Damien was good at his job. He’d always worked alone before they’d been paired up, but he’d finally accepted they were better together. Plus, he didn’t seem to mind that she wasn’t into meaningless conversation, that she was more the silent type. Hell, he was one himself and that suited her down to the ground.
That’s the point. He wanted them to find the vic. Not just anyone. He wanted the staff to find it.
Kyla stared at the back entrance of the Olympus. It had been open a year, but there was always a disturbance—from accidents and missing people to freak lightning storms. The place was a nexus for weird.
Damian stood and brushed off his hands. “Let’s head home. I’m hungry and I bet you are too. What do you say?”
At Kyla’s nod, he steered her out of the alleyway toward his car.
“Yo, Damo. I see you’re getting along with your partner. Maybe you should have switched to her type years ago? Just be careful if she gets into bed with you. She’ll shed hair all over the place.” The patrolman in uniform chortled as they passed him.
Damian turned his head and stared at the other cop. Not saying a word, he eyeballed the man until his grating laugh subsided to cursing.
With a shrug, Damian reached his vehicle and opened the passenger door then cranked down the window. He gestured for Kyla to get inside. “Don’t slobber on everything. It’s a bitch to clean.”
He slammed the door behind her and climbed in his side. “Well, that was a hell of a night. I’m ready for it to be over. How about you?
Kyla bared her teeth at him.
“So, something to eat then time for a haircut? What do you think?”
* * * *
Haircut? Reach for any clippers and you lose a hand, dirt grubber.
Kyla backed into the bedroom and plunked her backside on the floor next to the bed. Being an animal had benefits. She was a complete stranger to her partner and there he was, stripping for a shower in front of her. Her mother said there was always a silver lining to the kennel. Grinning, the wolf equivalent of a human smirk, Kyla settled down to watch the show.
First the collared shirt with its clip-on tie. A quick shrug and his golden, muscled chest came into view. Damien moved his hands lower to his fly and the noise of the zipper being lowered echoed in her ears. He pushed his pants and his neon-green boxers to his ankles. He used a shod foot to pry off the other shoe before kicking his pants to the corner and striding for the shower.