The Twisted Kiss: Doomsyear, Book 1 (2 page)

Chapter Two

“If you think you’re going to get her all to yourself, you’re wrong.”

Christian smiled. He’d known Michael had been watching from the shadows as he’d talked to Kylie, of course. Werewolves had a great sense of smell and vampires, with their earthy scent, could be detected right off. “Yeah, well, it’s possible neither of us will get her. You know her history. If you think it’s not kicking up a storm right now, you’re deluded. She could slip through both our hands.”

Michael walked to stand next to him, all but silent in his biker boots. “Speak for yourself.” There was a dangerous edge to his voice. Clearly the vamp didn’t like this arrangement any more than he did.

But they were going to have to live with it. The council was never wrong about these things and every supe knew it. Now they just needed to prove it to Kylie.

Christian peered up at the fast-retreating moon. “We need to convince Kylie we’re the men for her. We may not like having to share her, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles, vamp.”

Michael stood for a moment longer, then quietly disappeared into the surrounding woods as dawn pinked the horizon. Michael was a man of few words. Action, yes. Conversation, not so much.

It was now officially daytime, but Christian bet anything Michael was on his way to Kylie’s. Vamps didn’t like the sunlight, but they could handle it, and Christian understood just how strongly Michael felt about her.

Just as strongly as he did. There was a reason the council had paired them with her. Christian had been holding a flame for Kylie for years and he knew Michael had been too. From a distance, across the walls that divided the vampires from the weres, he and Michael had shared an unwelcome bond. That bond was about to become much stronger, but Christian understood that there’d be some tumult between point A and point B.

Again, he looked up into the sky at the faint image of the moon. Almost full. He didn’t have to look to know that, of course. It was in his blood. The closer the full moon, the closer his wolf. His skin itched to set it free.

The downside was that he’d be incapacitated for at least a day, giving Michael a chance at Kylie’s heart.

He might talk big about sharing, but, like Michael, he wasn’t really the sharing type.

Kylie pulled a broad section of metal from her forge and set to pounding it into the shape she wanted, the loud clangs of her hammer reverberating up her arm and into the air around her.

Ah, finally, peace. It seemed like she hadn’t had any since that silly proclamation had been made.

Her art always gave her peace. She did it for that reason, more than anything. She wasn’t looking to sell it or have a big, fancy exhibit in New Minneapolis or anything like that. She was happy where she was, in Sweet Rock, running her bar and restaurant and doing her artwork in her barn. She wasn’t even sure she knew how to act around humans anymore, anyway.

She finally configured her piece exactly the way she wanted it and set her hammer aside.

“Kylie.”

She jumped and whirled around, pushing her safety goggles to the top of her head. “Michael! What the hell?” She shouldn’t be surprised one of them had followed her home.

He stood near the open double doors of her barn, gazing up into the rafters. “Your work is amazing.”

She glanced up, seeing what he saw—huge metallic loops and swirls. A sight that never failed to please her. Today it almost didn’t. She peeled off her gloves and threw them to the counter, then stalked toward him. “Don’t change the subject. Why did you come here?” She gave a pointed glance at his motorcycle—indeed, it was as beautiful as he—before her gaze came to rest on his face. “I can’t handle this right now, seriously.”

He tore his eyes away from her artwork and his dark gaze held hers. “You’re going to have to deal with it sometime, Kylie.”

“No.” She shook her head, coming even closer to him. “No, I don’t, because I’m not a supe, Michael. Your rules don’t apply to me.”

His stony expression didn’t crack. It was as if his face and eyes were carved from marble—the pale color of his skin didn’t help the impression. “You have lived among us for so long, the council has decided you
are
one of us.”

“I don’t want to be in a relationship right now.”

“The council sees all. They see something you don’t want to admit.” He glanced around the barn, specifically at the sculpture. “Maybe, deep down, you’re lonely. Maybe, somewhere inside, you’re ready to move on to another portion of your life.”

Her adrenalin flared with a burst of pure, unadulterated annoyance. She glanced at the sculpture and her chest constricted. “I’m not lonely,” she ground out. “In fact, until yesterday morning, I was perfect in every way.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you.” Michael didn’t seem perturbed at all by her sudden flash of anger. He remained the same stoic man of few words she’d always known him to be. “But the council is never wrong.”

She made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat and pointed out the double doors of the barn to his bike. She almost stomped her foot. “Out! I didn’t invite you here and I want you to go.”

He just stood there, looking at her.

Suddenly she wished that old myth about inviting and uninviting vampires was actually true. “Michael, please.”

He gave her a slow blink and then closed the distance between them so fast her eyes couldn’t register the movement. His arms came around her and his mouth descended on hers.

She stiffened in shock for a moment, then punched him in the side as hard as she could, right in the kidney—it had no effect. His lips slid slowly over hers, tasting her. She tried to keep her anger, but the more he kissed her, the less anger she had. Little by little it was replaced by lust.

Goddamn him to hell and back.

Her arms went around his shoulders as he slanted his mouth over hers and parted her lips with his tongue, spearing in to mate with hers. He didn’t have his fangs out, which was a good thing. If she felt his fangs, it would break this odd magical spell. She heard a low, hungry sound and was mortified to realize it was her.

Well, it
had
been a long time since she’d been with a man and Michael was a very potent man.

His arms tightened around her and he moved her back toward a table, pushing her against it. For a crazy moment, she wanted him to take this even farther. She wanted him to strip off her clothes, lift her up onto this table and take her right here, right now, damn the consequences.

But he didn’t take it farther. Instead, he broke the kiss, set his forehead to hers and murmured, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

Her breathing was fast and heavy. “Sorry?” She let out a short laugh. Putting a hand to his chest, she pushed—hard. It was like trying to move a boulder, but he staggered back anyway. “Look, this is all a little bit too much for me right now, understand? Yesterday morning I woke to a day just like any other day. Then, the council made a proclamation about me they had no right to make and now I have two men pursuing me when I don’t want even one. Can you see that I might need a little space?”

No matter that those two men were a couple of the finest she’d ever set eyes on. Most women would think her insane for denying them—and maybe she was.

Michael met her eyes. “I see it, but I’m not a patient man. I don’t think Christian is either.”

“Well, then I’m about to teach you how to be. Maybe I’m exactly what you both need.”

Michael gave her a crooked smile. “There’s no doubt about that.”

Her jaw locked involuntarily. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s a truth you’ll come to accept.”

Damn that stupid council to hell and back. She did not need this right now. Dawn blazed brilliantly behind him. She gazed out at the bright horizon. “Shouldn’t you be getting home now?”
Please?

He nodded. “I’ll leave because that’s obviously your preference.” He studied her for a moment. “But I will see you tonight.”

“I can hardly wait.” Her voice trembled a little.

He turned, donning his helmet before the early morning sunlight touched his skin, and walked to his cycle. It started with a roar that settled into a kittenish purr. Michael was well off and could apparently burn all the fuel he wanted. With one long, last look at her through the dark visor, he took off, sending up clouds of dust as he traveled down the winding driveway of her farm, protected head to toe by leather.

Once he was gone, she stalked up the steps of her house and slammed through the screen door into her kitchen. Her father had left this house to her after he died. She missed him every day, but more so today. She could use his advice.

Scrubbing her hands over her face, she leaned over the sink and stared out at the still-settling clouds of dust that Michael had raised in his wake. The phone rang and she jerked. The phone service was spotty and the shrill ring got her every time. She turned to lift it from the receiver, hoping like hell it wasn’t Christian. That was the worst part of this. Vampires were nocturnal, but werewolves weren’t. That meant she would be plagued by one of them all hours of the day and night. Maybe double time during twilight and dawn?

Stifling an absurd laugh brought on by stress and fatigue, she barked, “Hello?” into the phone, ready to hang up on Christian if he’d dared call her.

“Kylie?”

She let out a relieved breath and sagged against a nearby kitchen chair. “Carolyn, I’m so glad you called. You’ve heard, I guess?”

Carolyn was her closest friend in Sweet Rock, the daughter of the local alpha. They’d been inseparable since childhood. Since her father’s death and her purchase of the Twisted Kiss, the only time she got to see her was in the morning before Kylie went to bed, since she now kept a vampire’s schedule to correspond with her clientele’s.

“Heard? Are you kidding me? My father told me over my morning coffee and I spewed it all over the table. Christian Phillips and Michael Sanborn? A human, vampire and werewolf triad? It’s…”

“Unbelievable, Carolyn. Seriously. There’s been a mistake.”

“The council doesn’t make mistakes.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, they know all, see all. So I’ve heard about twenty-five times today.”

Silence dominated the other end of the line for several long moments. Finally Carolyn said, “What will you do?”

Carolyn alone was privy to all her secrets. She understood why Kylie didn’t want any romantic entanglements, not even with two gorgeous men.

“I don’t know.” She glanced out the window, her jaw tense. “I need to go see the council and find out what went wrong. Why didn’t they match
you
with them?”

Carolyn snorted. “I wish. I have to admit, I’m pretty jealous right now.” She paused. “I don’t know Michael, but I know Christian. He’s had his eye on you for a long time. I’m not really all that surprised at the matching.”

“I’m sure he’s a great guy—”

“He is.”

“I just don’t want—”

“I get it. We don’t have to discuss it if you don’t want. I know it’s not your favorite topic.” She paused again. “Good luck with the council. I’ll come in to the bar tonight, okay? We can talk.”

“That sounds great.”

Once she’d hung up the phone, she spent a little time tending her vegetable garden. In post-doomsyear, most everyone grew their own food, canning for the winter months. Some people raised their own livestock too, but Kylie was lucky enough to be part of a co-op for her meat.

Necessary chores done, she grabbed her purse, locked up the house and barn, then took off for the council. It was time she got this straightened out.

Chapter Three

She approached the blue house on the far end of town where the Council of the Wise, aka the Supe Council, was located. The viruses that had shot through the world’s populace during doomsyear, creating genetic mutations like vamps and werewolves, had also created a very small number of superpsychics…and a few monsters, but no one liked to think about those, especially Kylie.

Out of all the supernaturals, the psychics were by far the oddest. They existed in pockets around the world, usually near high concentrations of supes, gathering together to live and to give out proclamations to their various communities from time to time. Their greatest gift to post-doomsyear society was their apparent ability to see into the hearts and minds of those around them and make romantic matches.

Those matches were often two males to one female, since the waves of viruses had left women scarce in the world. Two males to one female cut down on things like wars, kidnapping with the intent of sex slaving and such—the things that tended to happen when there was an imbalance of testosterone in a society.

Kylie had been five during doomsyear. The earliest years had been toughest, of course. She’d been young, but she remembered extreme hunger and being cold in the winter. She remembered her father defending their home from marauders with a shotgun.

The world economy had been decimated, of course. Money had been useless for years. She’d grown up learning how to provide for herself, bartering for the things they couldn’t grow, make, or scavenge for themselves. It had only been in the last ten years that money had started to be used again.

The virus had killed Kylie’s mother. She and her father had been immune, as were all the remaining humans. Those who weren’t immune had either died or been turned into a supe. She lived in a world of monsters now and
normal
was something of a novelty.

And all seemed guided and governed by the psychics.

A bent, white-haired old woman opened the screen door of the blue house and stared at Kylie as she walked up the steps. “We knew you would come.”

Well, of course, they had. They were psychic, after all.

“There’s been a mis—”

The old woman—her name was Margaret—held up a hand to stop her words. “Now you come on in here, sit down and have a cup of coffee. Then we’ll talk.”

Kylie pursed her lips into a thin line, hesitating on the steps. Figuring this was her only way to bring her issue in front of the council, she nodded and continued into the house.