Page 119 of Evil Hearts

Wolves in the Highlands

Megan J. Parker & Nathan Squiers

Chapter One:

A Wolfish Greeting

Katarina Beaumont wasnot prone to boredom. As an artist, she’d been able to find entertainment in even the most mundane circumstances. However, as she dined in the beautiful-yet-eerie foreignness of the Inverness pub, she could only describe what she was feeling as complete and utter boredom. Looking down at her questionable meal, she thought back to when her agent, Erik, had told her of the flight he’d booked for her a few days earlier.

“Wait…WHAT? Scotland? What exactly am I looking forthere?” she kept her eyes on anything and everything in the officeexceptErik, who rested the stem of a wine glass between the middle-and-ring fingers of his left hand. Though he knew full well that his dining habits unsettled his client, he seemed to make a note of being in the middle of a meal whenever he wanted to deliver any news that he knew she’d disapprove of.

At that moment, Katarina wasn’t sure which was making her gag more, the smell of the blood or the threat of what was awaiting her in Scotland.

Erik offered a loose rotation of his free hand, which hung like a lazy creature from his upright arm as he framed hisimmaculate features between the pressed lengths of his silk shirt.

“Look at it this way, Kitty, I just got you some vacation time; somepaidvacation time! All expenses paid! Even landed you first-class on the flight!” his already feminine voice was unusually high, something that happened whenever he was desperate but didn’t want it to show. “Besides, you said yourself that you’re running dry on inspiration and—let’s be fair, Princess—your work hasalwayshad that sexy fantasy style that would justthrivein that kind of setting!”

Once again, Katarina had found herself wondering if all agents were so draining on their clients.

A vampire in more ways than one…she mused to herself—a joke that she’d recited more times than she’d ever be able to count.

Though she was sure that Erik was more subtle with his feeding habits in front of his other clients—at least the human ones—he’d never been shy about relaxing the charade whenever he was alone with her. It had taken some time and finagling, but he’d successfully worked the public angle for her career as the “elven artist,” a fantasy illustrator so devoted to the genre that she’d modified her body—skin pigmentation and even surgical ear extensions—to look the part. A few convenient photos on the internet of her “bleaching” process and several testimonies from a plastic surgeon whom she was certain was a close personal friend of Erik’s were enough to convince the world that Katarina Beaumont’s unnaturally pale, flawless skin and long, pointed ears were nothing more than top-dollar augmentations.

It was so simple to pass off her beautiful anapriek traits as some form of obsession-fueled self-mutilation, but if that was the only way to follow her passion in the public eye withoutbreaking the strict privacy laws of their kind then it was worth it.

There was always an angle.

Always.

And therein lay the biggest question as she’d finally locked her gaze on her flamboyant vampire agent.

“What’s the angle here?” she pressed, finally letting her scornful gaze lock onto him. “I can barely handle myself HERE! How do you expect me to manage by myself in another country?”

“It’s fresh scenery, and fresh scenery means fresh thoughts; fresh material. And if you find yourself bored and unable to manage, I suggest you try this new thing calledworking, girl,” he took another dainty sip of the blood and offered a fanged smirk at his own quip. “Now…” he stood and set down the wine glass before sauntering around his desk, “Your ride is waiting downstairs to take you to the airport and—”

“Wait!” Katarina fought against the wiry grip that was starting to herd her out of the office, “Airport? Already? But I haven’t even packed!”

“Kitty,” Erik rolled his eyes, “do you think I’d left any of this to chance? I had a few of my best guys pack your bags and essentials.”

Katarina glared at that, “You had strangers go into my home?”

Erik shrugged, “Hate me later… and you might want to think about changing your locks when you get back. Now SCOOT!”

She didn’t bother to fight it any further. Like it or not, if Erik wanted her on a flight to Scotland to motivate her career than that’s exactly what was going to happen…

One way or the other.

Despite her hesitation and skepticism, however, the idea of traveling to Scotland for some fresh perspective on her artdidsound exciting, and she had heard plenty of stories from her female friends (and Erik) about foreign men.

Maybe an innocent, international affair was exactly the kind of inspiration she needed.

“Can you at least tell mewherein Scotland I’ll be staying?” she’d asked, already resigning herself to her fate.

“Inverness,” he’d grinned, finally herding her out the door.

Now, after several days of lazily touring the scenery with other tourists and braving the local eateries, she had to question exactly what kind of inspiration she was expected to be finding. While the locals seemed nice enough, they still had an air of disdain for her being American. The innkeeper—a large, busty woman with a thick, rolling accent that matched her build—might as well have held her nose in the air when she spoke to her.

“Only you?” she’d asked her when she’d first checked in, her eyes lingering on the elongated points of Katarina’s left ear before she’d tucked it under her blonde hair.

---