Night Angels (Beast & Beauty) Read online

  Night Angels

  Beast and Beauty Collection

  by

  Jessie M.

  Copyright Notice

  Copyright © Jessie M. 2013.

  Hot & Dreamy Books

  Barleycorn Media LLC

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book is sold subject to conditions that it cannot by way of trade be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior consent, in any form or cover, other than which it is published.

  This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it, while at times based on real figures, are purely the work of the author’s imagination.

  A babe in the house is a well-spring of pleasure, a messenger of peace and love, a resting place for innocence on earth, and a link between angels, men and wolves.

  Chapter 1

  He took a long swig of beer, straight from the bottle, as he gazed out of his bedroom window. Chris was having an extremely heated 'hello' session with his latest shit-hot girlfriend, Mel, next to her car. It looked like they were devouring each other, and his hands were everywhere... down the back of her jeans... up her top. And hers were just as busy.

  Lucky bastard.

  He moved away from the forecourt foreplay show, with a strange ache in his chest. She was too gorgeous for words... Melanie. She was a dental nurse at the private dental surgery they attended... Tall, blonde, beautiful and so stacked it made his heart weep. How he'd love to have a girlfriend like that, or any girlfriend for that matter.

  He sat back down at his computer with a heavy thump. Back to reality. His reality anyway.

  Anya skyped him with a message to call her. She was his gaming partner, a Swede and a fellow cyber-addict. A gamer chick. They had a special understanding when they played as a pair. He was quite proud of their joint achievements. Ranking 60th in the world for WoW was reaching the dizzying heights of stardom in their guild.

  Not that anyone cared or even understood what that meant. Not in this house anyway.

  He video skyped her back.

  Her pale and spotty little face came into view. She looked dead peaky, like she was in bed, ill, and definitely on her laptop.

  “Hey Ansy, what's up?”

  “Feeling so sick. Got frickin' food poisoning, that's what. I'm sorry but I can't play,” she groaned in a pathetic little voice. His stomach dropped.

  “But tonight's important. Are you sure you're that ill?” he asked unsympathetically.

  “Wanna see me fucking puke on screen?” she wailed.

  “I guess not. Tomorrow maybe?” he asked hopefully.

  “Don't hold me to it KB. Shit, I so gotta go.”

  She ended the call hastily.

  Damn, and he was really looking forward to tonight's game as well.

  When you're sick you're goddamn sick, I suppose...

  He looked at the time on the computer monitor and then up to his work chart on the wall. He was working tomorrow, Monday, early shift, nine till three. His current position was in customer support at Quadweb, an American internet hosting company. He needed to get to bed by two, latest, and it was now only five in the evening.

  Plenty of time to bore himself rigid in his room. Way too much time, because in truth, that's how he felt lately. He hardly ever left these four walls. His friends were online, his job was online, and his hobby was online. He was pretty much only offline when he slept, ate, or worked out, all in his room of course.

  Where else?

  He cast a glance at his free weights and got up. He plugged his iPhone into the speakers and chose Eminem's 'Lose Yourself' for some gritty motivation. Then he picked up a light set to warm up with. He'd started training with weights because as a younger guy he was a little on the thin side. He'd kept it up because he saw results fast and he liked the feeling it gave him. A buzz of energy. There was also the added benefit of keeping rounded shoulders at bay. Too many gamers were hunchbacks at his age. He made a determined effort to keep fit and stay fit. Two hundred squats. Two hundred crunches. Two hundred arm and shoulder reps. Every day.

  His abs were quite well developed. He was quite proud of that. It took discipline and determination to get the kind of definition he had. Not that anyone ever saw it except him. But that was his fault.

  His biceps warm, he grabbed a middle weight set and launched into it, his mind a blank as he sunk into the rhythm of the music. The burn began to hit at the third set of reps on each arm. How he hated and loved this painful ache with equal measure. But as least it made him feel alive. He dropped to the floor for fifty ab crunches while his arm muscles recovered for a moment. He completed his set with ease, and then lay back for a moment before rising and continuing with his arm reps.

  He grunted with exertion as he pushed himself through the pain barrier with his squats.

  Just a few more...

  He pushed himself hard, really hard. And finally spent, he dragged himself over to his bed where he flopped for recovery, rubbing his palms up and down his aching thighs.

  His chest was heaving in reaction. But he wasn't satisfied at all.

  He really needed to get out and run, do some proper cardio. But that required leaving his comfort zone. Or was this room his prison nowadays?

  Ten minutes later he rose and looked out of the ancient, arched leadlight window, across his father's inherited estate, Brandon Manor. The only home he'd ever known. He had a dire need to get out of his room, and the house, and he was going to take advantage of this rare urge. He put on his trainers and left, taking the curved staircase in leaps and bounds and heading for the front door.

  “Oh Kyle darling, just a minute!” his mother called out from the study. He approached the door and she rose from her chair to meet him.

  “Hi Mum, what's up?”

  “We're arranging a fortnight's holiday. To Mauritius? Would you like to come along?”

  “Err no. Why would I?”

  “It's fun and a change of scenery, that's why! Sun, sea, a pool, delicious food, lots of booze. Why not?”

  “Is Chris going?” he asked. He definitely wasn't going if his twin was. They didn't get along that well. Not for years in fact.

  “Yes, you know he always does. And Melanie's coming along as well. You could bring someone too if there's anyone you'd like to invite?”

  “No. Really not my cuppa, mum. Flights, heat, flies and all that stuff. I'll hang here. Gotta work anyways. I'll take care of Martha, saves putting her in the kennels, doesn't it?”

  “Well if you're sure. Perhaps next time?”

  “Maybe. When are you off?”

  “Probably in a week, Phillip's looking at flights later today. We're staying at the Carlisles'. They have a villa out there.”

  “Have a good time anyway...”

  “I'm sure we will. And Kyle, are you okay? You look so pale and miserable these days. You could at least come down for dinner. You're becoming a recluse. It's not right for a bright young man, being on his own so much. You could easily become depressed. Your father and I are getting worried about you.”

  “It's the new lifestyle. I'm virtually sociable, got a virtual job... Look... Please don't worry about me Mum, I'm fine, really I am,” he said without any conviction. Because he couldn't convince himself any more. He wasn't fine at all and it was time things changed. But Mauritius with his folks wasn't what he wanted. Chris and Mel constantly reminding him what he was missing, wasn't what he wanted either. He needed big changes, some excitement, a challenge, physical intimacy, and a woman's love.

  In short, he needed to live.

  “It wouldn't hurt to get out and about a few times a week. Take your bike out for a spin. It's stuck in the garag
e for weeks on end. You may as well sell it.” she continued.

  “I might go out on it later. Just having a run 'round the grounds at the mo… Martha.... Come on girl...” The family dog, a lanky Red Setter, appeared instantly at his side. “'Bye Mum...” he shot out of the door and began a circuit of the estate.

  Sell his Harley? No fucking way.

  It was his most treasured possession, next to his computer. But his mum was right. Bikes needed riding. This evening he'd have a trip out. Get some fast excitement, and eat up the country miles.

  He settled into an easy rhythm, jogging slowly around the hundred acres. He headed off down the side by the long rectangular pond and fountain, past the ornamental gardens, and down towards the wild part of the grounds, the field and the woodlands beyond. Only half of the woods belonged to the estate. The other half was common land, and an open boundary lay between. They had no issue with hikers and dog owners walking their pets on their land without permission. But there were a lot of pheasant and pigeon in these parts and they were often shot by poachers. Not only was this a danger to others, but also a regular grievance in the household. It was something they had never been able to resolve without hiring a full time gamekeeper. So it had continued to vex, not Kyle particularly, but his father, the much exalted, and titled Sir Phillip Zachariah Brandon.

  The cool September air began to hit his heated lungs in a satisfying burn, and he turned to look at the dog at his side.

  “Martha... my best girl... it's just you and I soon,” he panted. She looked up at him lovingly with her big brown eyes as she ran effortlessly, matching him, stride for stride.

  His breath hit that runners' pace, 'in, in... out', 'in, in...out', as they pounded into the treeline and then into the dim light of the woods. His feet almost bounced on the soft woodland leaf mould. A few new light coloured leaves littered the surface, evidence of the coming of autumn. Acorns crunched noisily under his feet. He didn't notice the change in the seasons much, as he didn't go out that often. He cast his eyes upwards. The old oak leaf canopy above his head had a tinge of yellow about it. It wouldn't be long before these trees were bare again. He used to know these woods so well as a young boy. He'd raked every inch of them through and through. Every tree and clearing had been mentally mapped. He and Chris were inseparable and always in here when they were kids. What great times they had had, playing war games with their friends, making campfires, and building tree houses...

  He sighed with regret.

  Where the hell did our closeness go?

  Not that he really needed to think about it much. Because sadly, he knew the answer only too well.

  Stephanie Church. That was her name. She'd been Kyle's first girlfriend. His first love. Somehow he'd managed to catch her eye when they were in sixth form at Woodbridge, doing the same A level subjects, and they'd started to date and get to know one another. Chris and he were eighteen years old then and became bitter rivals that summer.

  His brother had an extra something. An extra spoonful of everything going. Kyle had always known it, and up until that point in time, he'd been so proud of him. He was a shining star, possessing perfect features and pure blond hair, a sporty, fit body, sociable attitude, and a strong wit. And if that wasn't enough, he was a fucking genius.

  Kyle couldn't compete with his golden twin.

  Stephanie had slipped from his grasp and straight into Chris' arms, and he'd had her. All of her. After that he dumped her, and went off to Uni to break a few dozen more hearts as well. He strolled through his Mathematics degree so effortlessly at Oxford, gaining a First, then a Masters while Kyle struggled to get through his vocational course in IT at the local tech college.

  He dragged himself out of his miserable trip down memory lane as the path narrowed towards the centre of the woods. Suddenly Martha pulled up short, almost at a skid before him. He stopped behind her, nearly tripping over her body.

  “What's the matter, girl?” He patted her head encouragingly. “Come on....” he urged. But she wasn't listening. She trembled beneath his hands, her head bowed, and eyes to the ground. “Hey... come on... what's up?” he cajoled, squatting down to her level.

  Then he noticed how the air had stilled. And it was deathly silent all around them. Eerily so. He stood up and looked about, his eyes scanning between the gnarled old oak trees and bushes for a sign of something. The hair began to stand up on the back of his neck for no reason he could think of, other than suggestion. The next second he started in surprise as two dark shapes lurched across the narrow trail before him with long strides, disappearing into the trees. Martha yelped and hugged herself to the back of his legs.

  What the hell....?

  If he wasn't mistaken, two very large wolves had just crossed his path. Very large indeed. His heart hammered wildly as his mind processed the information. As far as he knew, wild wolves were extinct in the UK... He was gathering his thoughts and about to turn tail and head back the way he'd come, pretty damn fast, when they appeared again. But this time they stopped on the path and stared at him, growling and snarling menacingly, and baring their long sharp teeth.

  Holy fuck...

  Despite his shock and fear, he noticed one glaring fact, they were the strangest wolves he'd every seen. Not that he'd ever seen any in real life. But from pictures he'd seen, these two differed quite a lot. They had such long legs and were so tall, like Great Danes but with a Greyhound's build, possessing long thin noses and pointed ears, and more than a fair amount of shaggy fur. But worst of all were their glowing amber eyes. They creeped him out. Big time.

  'Damned fucking ugly and lethal' sprang to mind, as he stared back, frozen to the spot in horror.

  Martha whimpered, her tiny sound breaking the spell, and he backed off slowly, more than concerned about their intentions. Then he turned and fled, not daring to look behind him in case they were about to pounce and have him for dinner. Martha beat him out of the trees by a long shot, racing ahead like a red streak of lightning. She had obviously sensed them, heard or smelled them, well before he did... And they'd scared her.

  They'd more than scared him, he admitted to himself.

  As he crossed the field towards their gardens, a howl ripped through the air, a deeply disturbing primeval cry, harsh and piercing in its intensity. It echoed through the approaching dusk and lodged itself deep within his brain. And then there were more. A pack was in the woods, judging by the enthusiastic howling symphony which came in reply. It was darkly atmospheric, reminiscent of a horror film and his stomach churned in anxiety. Despite his bodily warmth from the exercise, a cold shiver ran down the full length of his spine. After a quick look behind him, he picked up his pace. The welcoming sight of Brandon Manor finally came into view through the tall garden hedge in front of him, and his body finally began to relax.

  He slowed and walked back to the house, approaching the boot room back door and let himself and a relieved Martha inside. He wiped his feet, cleaned her paws with a towel, and petted her for a moment, as normality flooded through his veins.

  “There, all safe and sound. No harm done. We'll stay outta that wood for a while though, eh?” he said and laughed at her happy tail wagging response.

  After kissing her silky red head, he went to find his mother.

  “Are you sure?” His mother furrowed her brow in concern and more than a touch of disbelief at his revelation.

  “Yes...! You don't think I'd make it up do you?” he replied a little too indignantly.

  “And you only saw the two, but you think there's more, a whole pack of them?”

  “Quite a few more than two by the sound of it.”

  “I'll send Phillip out to look around tomorrow. Maybe they were wild dogs and in the dim light they just looked like wolves. I can't see how a pack of wolves could have escaped from somewhere with no one noticing, can you?”

  “I know it's odd, but I know what I saw Mum. There was enough light to see them clearly enough. They were huge skinny dark grey wolves, sna
rling fangs, and howling like it was the full moon. No way they were dogs... Martha was freaked out by them.”

  “Hmmm, okay then, if you're sure. Look, I'd really appreciate it if you'd stay downstairs and have some dinner with us love. It'll be ready in a few minutes. Mel's going to be joining us for our Sunday evening roast today. It'll mean a lot to me. Please?”

  “I don't suppose it'll hurt. I'm getting sick of my own company anyway,” he replied offhandedly with a small smile in his mum's direction. The truth was that he needed to have people around him, as a distraction, after his weird experience outside. Even verbally sparring with his bro sounded appealing at the moment. Mel sounded more than appealing too. “I need a fast shower. Be back in five.”

  He headed off to shower and dress with his spirits lifting. A hearty meal of roast beef and all the trimmings would settle his stomach and mind, definitely. Then in a while, after a decent period of socialising with his family, he'd take a quick evening ride on his bike, and do the five village circuit. He might even enjoy sitting in front of his computer after that.

  They all sat at the table helping themselves to Mrs Higgins' succulent roast beef, wonderful crunchy potatoes, and al dente steamed vegetables. They tucked in with little ceremony and very few manners either. The Brandons always enjoyed and appreciated their food. That was one thing they all had in common at least.

  “Melanie, do come along darling. One roast potato won't be enough to feed such a fine figure as yours,” his father said with a wink in her direction.

  “Dad, do you mind!” Chris admonished, giving his father an open glare.

  She blushed very prettily and helped herself to another bigger one.

  “I have a really good appetite normally. I guess I'm a little nervous, that's all,” she replied.

  His father laughed one of his hearty guffaws and gave her a big white smile, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “No need for nerves, my love. I may be a Lord in title, but I'm pretty normal at heart, wouldn't you say, Kyle?” his father carried on.