Call Me Miz Read online

  Call Me Miz

  Gem Sivad

  Missouri Hess doesn’t like to be called “witch”, though she can heal with a touch and pull truth from a liar every time. Her gifts are a curse. She can’t choose who she helps and, after a healing, she radiates pheromones and burns with sexual energy.

  Thomas Hunter is a government agent and a member of Special Forces, emphasis on the word “special”. In human form, Thomas is a mouth-watering hunk of muscle wrapped in dark chocolate. As a golden-furred jaguar, he prowls the woods wearing fangs and claws. He’s been sent to Bitter Creek Holler to investigate the local werewolves.

  When Miz rescues the big cat from a silver-coated conibear trap, he bites her, claiming her as his mate. Now Thomas has to convince the bewitching healer that she needs a familiar by her side…

  Call Me Miz

  Gem Sivad

  Chapter One

  Miz swerved in and out of traffic as she climbed the ridge on her Harley. A coal truck traveling fast from the other side had lost its brakes, plummeting down the curving road until it crashed and flipped on its side. It was five o’clock in the afternoon and anyone leaving town to head back across the mountain was screwed. No cars were going to get through that way for at least an hour or two.

  But she would. She tightened her grip and slowed down as she approached the load of coal blocking the road. Swearing uselessly, one man paced beside the truck. Fifteen or more men, some in suits and ties, were frantically digging with their hands, trying to make a dent in the pile.

  Miz inched forward, studying the far right of the road. The truck had belched its contents, scattering coal all the way to the edge of the mountain and pelting the houses below with black dust and stone. She aimed her bike for the narrow gap between piles, intent on leaving the scene behind.

  “Get the hell out of here, bitch.” Eldon Brown stepped in her path, reaching for her handlebars. Considering that he was at the top of her despise list, it was a stupid move.

  Miz kicked her motor into gear and caught his hand, bending it backward until she felt the wrist pop and he buckled to his knees. Her glove burned hot when she released her grip on him and sped past, aiming her bike again for the narrow path.

  “Got him.” A shout went up from the men digging and though she tried to ignore the scene, she could see from the corner of her eye the body being pulled free. Dumbasses. If he wasn’t dead already he would be by the time they finished mauling him. She stopped her bike, set the kickstand and stalked to where the truck driver lay broken and bleeding. “Get the fuck out of my way,” she said, elbowing one of the men. Heat pulsed inside her gloves and she gritted her teeth at the pain.

  “Let her through,” Hank Wyatt ordered.

  “Jesus, Wyatt. What the hell you think she’s going to do? Ask him how he feels?” Eldon cursed her and her ancestors before he shut up and moved aside.

  “I said let her through.”

  Miz didn’t look at him or any of the other men muttering insults. She dropped to her knees next to the driver and wiped dust and debris from features so covered in black she didn’t recognize Donnie Haskell until she’d cleared his nose and cleaned his face.

  His breathing was shallow, barely discernible, his spirit already reaching for the beyond. Miz shuddered, fighting death as it pulled on him.

  “Take off your goddamned gloves and lay hands on him, Miz.” Hank Wyatt had seen her heal a wolf once. They’d been friends and lovers up until that day. “Do it. You know he’ll be dead by the time the ambulance gets here.”

  As if she had a choice about what came next. When her healing gift kicked in, the force of its power took charge and Miz was only a servant who obeyed. She swiped her sleeve across her brow, already dripping with sweat. The muttering in the background receded as she concentrated on Donnie, trying to get him stable without frying his brain.

  Then she forgot everything as the heat pulsed from her into Donnie’s chest. Her eyes were closed as she saw a haze of dirt and debris clouding his lungs. Her hands lay flat on him but in her mind, they fisted around the dark poison.

  Burn ash, burn rubble, burn wood, burn stone… She whispered the words in her mind, watching the murky stain decrease in size until Donnie arched up under her touch, spasming for a moment before he began to choke and cough.

  Miz slumped back on her heels, exhausted and sick with the noxious poison she’d sucked out of her patient. Her voice was thick, hardly recognizable when she muttered, “He’s in shock. Keep him warm, Hank. He’ll hold now until the EMT gets here.”

  Weakly she staggered up from her crouch and stumbled to her bike. The men opened a path for her but none offered to help her clear the scatter of coal until Hank Wyatt yelled, “Get that shit out of her way.” He was boss hereabouts and the men jumped to it. Because of him, not for her.

  As she pushed her bike through the narrow opening they cleared, she heard one man say, “Donnie’ll be a gibbering idiot even if he pulls through.”

  Not content with just insults, Eldon Brown lobbed a chunk of coal, missing her shoulder by an inch as he hissed, “Witch.”

  On the other side of the mountain of coal, she remounted and drove toward home. Because Miz was intoxicated on filth and leftover power, her speed was slower around the curves than usual. She had to navigate through another line of cars filled with people heading to the city for the night. Cell phones were deader than Job’s ass up here. Stalled travelers tried to flag her down to find out if they should turn back and go home or if help had arrived on the other side.

  Miz ignored the questions all the way to Bitter Creek Holler, veering on to the narrow unpaved road. It was little more than a beaten path wide enough for a small car. When she was alone and out of sight, she stopped, dismounted and vomited until her throat was raw.

  * * * * *

  The cat had been lazily interested in the scene below. His man had too. Neither had held out much hope for the guy covered in coal. Both had come to attention when the woman appeared. The man appreciated a fine ass when he saw it and focused. The jaguar admired her lithe movements and open aggression. Both grunted approval when she elbowed her way through the men to crouch over the body. She was strong and sleek.

  He’d wanted to follow her when she’d navigated through the barrier and started down the other side. But his man was tied to the vehicle he’d left among others like it. Reluctantly he let his other being tuck him deeper inside as they returned to the rented SUV and climbed in. Still more beast than man, he fitted sunglasses over eyes irritated and gritty from his recent change.

  The cat loved the trees, the rocks, the water—pretty much everything about this place. The man slapped another mosquito away and disagreed. Of all the areas in the world he could have been sent, West by God Virginia was the last place on earth he’d have chosen.

  Grimly the man drove to the cabin where he stayed and pushed the beast deep while he prepared to fight off another battalion of bugs that would attack at dusk. The jaguar stretched and yawned. It didn’t matter. As soon as it was dark, he’d prowl and leave the insects to suck on someone else. Meanwhile, both man and beast thought about the woman.

  Wyatt called her Miz. Hank Wyatt was of interest. On one occasion Wyatt’s scent had carried the distinct aroma of wolf. It was a starting point.

  Night sounds surrounded the rented cabin and the jaguar’s tension eased. After the man stashed clothes in hidden spots outdoors, he went inside and shed the ones he wore, then returned naked to the porch. The big cat shifted quickly without any of the muscle-rending contortions of many of his kind. He stretched and took control, ready to hunt.

  With his teeth, the jaguar grasped the rope his man had tied to the knob. He pulled the door shut before leaping from the porch to the roof and then into the t
all willow tree above the building. From there, he traveled across the leafy canopy into the night.

  His man had been sent here to find wolves, or more to the point, werewolves. Shifters. It was his job to find the den if such existed and report back to his handler. Nothing more. If it was true, if the sightings of wolves in this state turned out to be men-beasts running under the full moon, then someone else would make contact.

  The jaguar would rather have killed them. The wolves were no more than predators in the territory he’d claimed for the moment. His will grew ever stronger and fought with the man’s. He flexed his claws, anticipating the day he would rule.

  The cat traveled above the rest of the world, leaping from high boughs to low branches, investigating buildings along the way. The smell of fried chicken reminded his man he was hungry. The jaguar chuffed impatiently, wanting to kill something. They spotted a place of interest and moved closer, leaving the smell of food behind and replacing it with a metallic scent.

  A steady stream of people trotted to the back door of a house and entered, weaving and laughing when they came out. The big cat moved closer for a better look and the toxic odor of burned chemicals hit his nostrils. He sneezed, shaking his head. The man thought meth lab and made a mental note to report the location of the house to his contact. The jaguar’s lip curled into a sneer.

  Tired of watching the local dope gin, the beast passed the houses and jumped to the ground, running swiftly through brush and trees, leaving the ugly smell behind. He traveled miles before he saw lights in the distance.

  He climbed again, moving from treetop to treetop until he lay on a limb overlooking a parking lot filled with cars. He examined the sprawling area teeming with humans. Though it was after midnight, men loitered outside the building, talking, drinking and smoking.

  He was already climbing to the top of the tree, ready to move on, when he caught the low, rumbled sound he’d heard earlier in the day. It was the woman. He smirked inside. Following her back to her place would be easy. He crouched in the tree, waiting for her to finish her business.

  She climbed off her bike, pulled the helmet from her head and set it on the seat, then circled the Harley before looking at the men. “Touch it and you’ll feel the hurt.”

  Inside the jaguar, his man winced at the challenge. The jaguar approved. He watched her long strides cover the distance to the store entrance before any of the males moved toward her. As soon as the door closed behind her, one man dumped liquid on the ground and walked to the fuel station in the center of the clearing. The jaguar knew what it was. The scent of gas filled the air.

  The man below refilled the bottle, sloshing more on the ground than through the narrow opening. Dumb. Would have held more if he’d broken the bottle, beast and man agreed. A growl rumbled out of the jaguar and escaped into the night.

  One of the men mumbled, “What in hell was that?”

  The jaguar concentrated on the human who walked to the woman’s bike and tried to douse it with fuel. He was a coward, afraid of the woman. The fuel blew back at him and he whirled to face the bike owner when she emerged from the store.

  She had a sack in her arms. The jaguar tensed. She was vulnerable. His man grabbed control from him and muzzled his rage. But it simmered as they both listened.

  “Medics said Donnie’s in a coma, Miz,” the man who’d thrown the gas called to her as she walked toward her bike. “You fry his brains like you did Bobby’s?”

  “Bobby’s brain was rotten from meth before I ever touched him.” She didn’t speed up but jaguar and man both saw her muscles coil. She reached into her bag. The heckler drifted in toward her right and a second man detached himself from the shadows and came fast from her left in a coordinated strike.

  One minute she had both feet planted on the ground, the next she whirled, tossing the groceries at the second man and a can of something at the first’s head. It hit him with a loud thunk. Before either knew what was happening, she flipped open a lighter, holding it in front of her as she backed to the Harley. “Something smells rank. The stink’s on you, Eldon.” She waved the lighter his way. “Want to see what happens when I purge the air?”

  The men backed up, hands high, both getting out of her way fast when she roared off. Jaguar and man bounded after her, remaining hidden in the screen of trees.

  “You goddamned witch, I’m gonna burn you alive one day!” One of the men screamed the threat after her.

  The jaguar paused, ready to go back and kill him. Protect the woman.

  His man jerked him to attention. And what? She’s not a shifter, she’s not part of my assignment, she’s a piece of tail who’s pissed off the locals. Let it be.

  He shook his head, chuffing irritation at the man. He didn’t kill the man below, but when she left, the beast had his way and followed her.

  Miz hugged the bike, leaning into the curve as she neared Milo’s Place. She was too hungry to go any longer without food, and even the greasy fries and burgers he served were better than nothing.

  Maybe a beer too. It was wishful thinking, unless the place was empty, in which case Milo would already have closed it down. She could see the lights ahead as she got closer. Good. She’d order the food, then wait outside to avoid any men still hanging around. Milo usually brought it to her anyway.

  Her head pounded and her throat ached, still raw from her afternoon’s purge. Beer would numb it some. She’d drink one. Just one.

  There were only two cars parked in front of the bar when she pulled up. Nevertheless, she rode to the back of the building before stopping. It was easier to avoid trouble than invite it by advertising her presence.

  She knocked on the back door and it flipped open so fast she knew he’d been waiting. “Heard you pull up,” Milo said gruffly, motioning her into the kitchen.

  He wiped his hands on his apron and handed her a plate of fries, turning away to flip the burgers he’d already put on.

  She retrieved a bottle of catsup from the counter and squirted red all over the potatoes, stuffing two fries in her mouth and reaching for more. As she chewed and swallowed, her headache receded but her stomach growled, demanding more substance.

  Milo flattened the patties one more time, then scooped them onto the bun he had waiting. Three burgers stacked high, a slab of cheese, dill pickles and a squirt of mustard. He handed it to her.

  “And a beer,” she said, taking a bite.

  “One beer coming up.” He nodded and went to the bar on the other side of the wall to get it for her. Miz admired his backside as he moved. Her libido was in full throttle after her afternoon adventure. She sighed. Milo was a happily engaged man and his significant other was one of the few women Miz counted as friend.

  As soon as he returned, she stood, gathering her food to leave.

  “No call to run off, Miz. It’s quiet tonight. Some of the men got juiced up after the wreck today, but I told ’em to get out before they reached the break-the-furniture stage.”

  She hesitated then sat back down and waited. Milo usually had a point to his conversations if she had the patience to listen.

  “Strangers in town. Both have been in and out. One of ’em’s a African American.” The way Milo pronounced the words, they came out A-freakin’ American, but she got the point.

  “Really?” Miz snorted, picturing the moment of quiet that would have greeted the black man when he’d walked into the bar. “They together?”

  “Nah. The black guy’s staying in Shep Buchanan’s cabin. Says he’s on vacation. Here to do some fly fishing. The other one’s another representative from that lumber company that keeps trying to buy timbering rights up here.”

  She tipped back her head, letting the swallow of beer coat her throat and anesthetize the burn. Jobs would come to the area if the lumber company started cutting. But Hank Wyatt owned the land and it wasn’t going to happen. There was a lot of discord among the locals these days. Her voice was husky when she asked, “Hank know he’s here?”

  Milo
grunted. “Two crickets don’t jump in this holler without Hank knowing it. He came in while the guy was here.”

  “Looking for a fight?”

  “Didn’t seem like it. He drank a beer, ordered some food and paid. Talked to the lumberman for a bit and then left. It was all civilized.” Milo switched off the grill and when the outer door opened and closed, he returned to the bar.

  Whoever had been drinking the last round must have left because after a moment, the lights flicked off and Milo returned to the kitchen, untying his apron. When he set it aside, she saw the bulge tenting his jeans. Her damned pheromones were beaming and Milo was reacting to the invitation.

  “You need anything, Miz?” His gaze was hungry.

  Dammit, she’d known better than to linger. She put her thumb in the top of the bottle, making a popping sound when she flipped it out. “Hear that?” she asked, glaring at Milo.

  “Yep,” he laughed, shaking his head as if to clear it.

  “That’s me pulling your head out of your ass. Jenny deserves better than having you shag me, even if it’s for medicinal purposes. But thanks for the offer.”

  She finished her burger in a gulp and headed for the door.

  He followed her, leaning against the doorjamb and talking as she pulled on her helmet. “Donnie will be fine. Anybody with a lick of sense knows you did him no harm. Hell, he’s alive because of you.”

  She flipped the switch and the Harley rumbled its power between her thighs. She yelled over her shoulder as she turned for home. “Too bad there’s not many with sense around here.” She roared down the road, throttle wide open, enjoying the cool night air as it fanned her hot cheeks.

  Downshifting, she brought up her lights when she turned off the main road at the head of the holler. A mile in, she turned again, climbing up the steep slope, bouncing over the ruts as she neared her piece of land. The road was pure hell, but it kept most from trespassing, which outweighed its inconvenience.