A Wicked Secret

By Sierra Dean

Usually when your ex-husband dies, that’s the end of the story.

Unfortunately for Secret McQueen — FBI agent and werewolf queen — nothing could ever be that simple. Her ex Lucas Rain came back from the dead thanks to a spell gone wrong, and now he’s in trouble. Of course.

Secret is going to need to figure out her priorities and finally decide where she belongs in the East Coast werewolf pack. And she’s going to need to do it in the middle of the jungle, because Lucas has gotten himself entangled with a South American werewolf pack, and his life is on the line.

Now Secret, her new demon partner Harry, and her ever-patient husband Desmond, must work together to get Lucas back in one piece.

​Because nothing saves a strained marriage quite like an unplanned vacation with a body-snatching demon, and your once-dead ex in the mix, right?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Jan 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781094451268

Sierra Dean

Sierra Dean is the kind of adult who forgot she was supposed to grow up. She spends most of her days making up stories, and most of her evenings watching baseball or playing video games. She lives in Winnipeg, Canada with two temperamental cats and one sweet tempered dog. When not building new worlds, she can be found making cupcakes and checking Twitter.

Book preview

Chapter One

Demons have no respect for schedules.

They certainly don’t care if you’re running fifteen minutes late for a marriage counseling session you happened to fly across the entire country for.

No, this particular demon was way more interested in running away from me, and I am not too proud to admit he was fast, much faster than I was. My lungs burned as I tried to keep pace with him. It didn’t help that we were running down an exceptionally busy sidewalk, and while he slithered and dodged people like he was made of liquid mercury, I was getting jabbed with razor sharp elbows and being slammed into by people who didn’t seem to realize I existed.

All the while he got farther and farther away, and I got later for my appointment with Desmond and Dr. Simmons with each additional block. My phone was buzzing in my back pocket, but this wasn’t the most ideal moment to pull it out and tell my husband I was busy.

This, he would say, was part of the problem.

Desmond thought I put my job ahead of our relationship, and in this moment I could potentially see his point. Chasing after a demon I hadn’t even come to New York for, I couldn’t help but think, What the fuck is wrong with you, Secret? My beautiful, borderline eternally patient husband was alone in a room with our therapist, and I bet they were giving each other the look.

It was an exchange of mutual glances I’d seen shared between Dr. Simmons and Desmond in the past. A look that told me they were aligning against me.

And yeah, right now, it was hard to disagree with them.

But I couldn’t exactly stop in the middle of a chase, now could I? The demon currently ruining my weekend trip to the Big Apple was obviously up to no good. I’d say that assessment was the case of all demons, but since I now had an unexpected partner-slash-demon-I-was-babysitting, who wasn’t all that bad, I had to be careful with smack-talking all demonkind. Sure, he’d stolen a couple bodies in the time I’d known him, but he tended to pick some very bad guys.

Which meant I had to edit myself to think most demons were usually up to no good. And given how quickly this guy had made a break for it when he realized I knew what he was, well, I was willing to bet big trouble followed this dude around like a bad fart cloud.

Would. You. Stop. Running? I wheezed. This wasn’t even supposed to be a cardio day. Screw this body-stealing asshole.

If he heard my request he made no move to follow the instructions. He wove between a couple of high school kids, and I almost lost sight of him in the crowd. On the plus side, demons—at least low-level ones like him—couldn’t jump into a conscious body unless invited. They preferred unconscious victims, those asleep or injured or near death. It was much easier to coax your way into a person’s body when they couldn’t fight back.

Point being, he was stuck in the body he was currently in, which made it much easier to keep an eye on the dark brown hair weaving in between people on the street.

My phone started to buzz again.

Sorry, sorry, sorry.

I was also starting to wonder how long it was going to take Harry to find me among all the people on the street. I’d left my aforementioned demon partner in the car and had literally been walking up to my appointment with Dr. Simmons, when I’d bumped into a guy on the way into the building.

Which is when all of this had gone wrong.

Under normal circumstances, nothing would have tipped me off to the guy being a demon. Harry had recently given me insight on sniffing them out without the heightened senses of awareness I’d had when I was part-vampire, part werewolf, though. The eyes, he told me, were a dead giveaway. Flat, emotionless, like a dead fish. That’s precisely what I saw when the man had offered a forced, polite smile and held the door open for me.

I’d paused. Our gazes had locked.

You’re… I started to say, and he hadn’t let me finish the sentence before he took off like a bat out of hell.

Now here we were, and I kept putting more and more blocks in between myself and the meeting, and more importantly between myself and my car. Which was why I had to hope Harry had seen what went down. It had all happened so quickly that if he’d looked away or not been paying attention, he might have just assumed I was in the building, and it would be an hour before he would see me again.

If that worst case scenario was true, Harry wouldn’t be on his way to help me, which meant I might be on my own against a demon way stronger than me.

Ugh, Secret, you’re an idiot.

Still, I had to keep running, I had to catch this guy. Whatever it was he was doing here, I had to get to the bottom of it.

Which was, surely, not an elaborate ploy to avoid my marriage counseling appointment.

Seriously, I swear it wasn’t intentional.

Even though I really hated therapy.

The crowd thinned as we reached the end of the business district, and since it wasn’t quite late enough in the day for theater crowds to start, or see-and-be-seen diners and clubgoers to be out, there was a brief, glorious moment providing an opening where I could conceivably catch up with him.

What I’d do once I got him would be another story. I had left home that morning with the idea I would be attending therapy, not going on a demon hunt. There’s a strict no-weapons-in-couples-counseling rule Dr. Simmons had to reinforce with me a couple of times now, so I’d left my gun in the car with Harry. There was a silver knife tucked in my boot—see, I’m bad at therapy—but it would only offer minimal protection against a demon in a full-grown man’s body.

There had been a time, not too long ago, where the unusual combination of my blood had given me the gifts of both a vampire and a werewolf. I’d been strong, I’d had incredible senses, and while I might not have been able to go out in the sunlight, I would have been able to knock this low-level hell spawn on his ass no problem.

Now I was just human. And, okay, sure, I was a human with advanced training in weaponry and hand-to-hand combat provided by the finest trainers the FBI had to offer, but I was still human. Human vs demon was never going to be a fair fight.

Human with one small knife versus a demon?

Yeah, I wasn’t all that sure of myself either.

What I wouldn’t have given to have my sword right about now, I tell ya.

With a clear path between us and way less foot traffic, I pushed away any sense of pain or discomfort from having run twenty-five blocks behind this dude and asked my legs to give just a little bit more. They obliged, thank God, and I started to close the distance between me and the demon.

"Hey, I shouted, this time loud enough he heard me, because he looked back over his shoulder and the evident panic he felt showed in his eyes. I just want to talk to you."

He, apparently, did not want to talk to me, because he started running faster. But I had to get him, there was no way I was letting him out of my reach, not now when I was so damn close. I dug deep into my energy reserves and found something left, pushing myself into another gear. My lungs wailed internally in protest. Too much¸ they pleaded, you don’t do enough cardio for this.

Amen to that.

But still, we ran, and soon I was almost at him, so close my fingertips were a mere hair’s breadth from the back of his jacket. So. Close.

One minute he was right within my reach, and the next he was sailing across the street into a pile of garbage bags piled on the sidewalk. The few New Yorkers who bothered to notice a man flying through the air gasped in surprise. Meanwhile I slammed directly into the side of a black SUV as it came to a stop in front of me.

I hit it so hard I ricocheted off and fell on my ass in the middle of the sidewalk. People moved around me and beyond the car, not bothering to slow down or offer me any assistance.

It was then I realized the car I had just hit was my own.

The driver and passenger doors both opened at the same time. From the driver’s side a young-looking man with a pale, pleasant face, and unruly red hair made a beeline across the street flashing an FBI badge to those who were stooped over to gawk at the man in the garbage bags. No one had offered to help him, but a few were filming on their phones. The demon wasn’t moving, at least for now.

Can I get everyone to stay back please, this is official business. Please stay back.

I stopped watching FBI-official Harry long enough to see who had gotten out of the passenger side, and my heart leapt and sank at the same time.

Desmond Alvarez, world’s greatest, loveliest, most patient, and understanding husband was looming over me and he didn’t appear altogether happy.

As he offered me a hand to get to my feet, he said, Those appointments are non-refundable, Secret.

He checked me over with a sweeping gaze to make sure no serious damage had been done. He tended to worry about me a lot more since I’d become human. I think he saw a fragility to me now he hadn’t needed to fret about before.

But there was a demon, I protested, pointing across the street.

Desmond offered me a grim smile, pushing a lock of hair back behind my ear. There always is, isn’t there?

Chapter Two

I was lounging on our big living room sectional, a cushion over my eyes, and a small white cat purring on my chest, kneading her claws into my tank top. Rio, the cat in question, was the type to glue herself to whatever lap was immediately available and would then start purring so loudly you might think she had been neglected her entire life.

In fact, she had been adopted by my former vampire roommate. And when I say adopted, I mean someone was selling kittens out of a box to vampires who were desperate for a snack. Brigit, bless her heart, had taken the thing then changed her mind about eating it, and she had decided I needed a pet.

Brigit was gone now, but her gift remained, and with it a constant, sometimes annoying reminder of my friend. Which was perfect, if you knew Brigit.

I don’t know if I thought of the cat as a tether connecting me to my dead friend, or if I just loved the fuzzball because she was cute and affectionate. I didn’t think either option was right or wrong.

I pet her without moving the pillow from my eyes, and her purring intensified. As did the ferocity with which her nails dug into me. The couch dipped nearby and Desmond pulled my feet into his lap. The cat wasn’t bothered in the least by the new addition, and she stayed put. Des slipped off my socks and started to massage my feet, pressing his rough thumbs into my arches until I let out an unfiltered moan of satisfaction.

When I lifted the pillow off my face he was focused on my feet, but based on the crease between his brows, he wasn’t in the best of moods. Couldn’t blame him, this day hadn’t gone the way either of us had anticipated.

You know I’m sorry, right? I put the pillow under my head so I could see him without cramping my neck.

He paused and looked over at me, his fingers continuing to knead my aching feet, as Rio’s pawing did the same on my chest.

I don’t want to fight right now, he said.

I’m not trying to fight.

I know, but we were supposed to meet today to talk to Leslie about how to better communicate our frustrations.

Leslie? We’re calling her Leslie now?

Oh my God, Secret. Could you focus please?

Sorry, sorry.

He stopped massaging and wrapped his hands around my toes. You told me you were willing to put in the work.

There was a demon.

Yeah we’ve covered your unfortunate side quest a few times now. And I’m glad we were able to help you, but I think you’re missing the overall point, here.

The reason Harry and Desmond had been able to arrive in the nick of time to plow the escaping demon over, was because Des had gone looking for me, which was when they both realized something grim must have come up to pull me away from the building. Since I’d had my phone on me, and the phone was synced to the car, they were able to trace me as I made my way and cut us off at the exact right moment.

That Harry had hit the demon, when it could have been a run of the mill mugger was a knee-jerk response I would have to have a chat with him about, but at the moment he was at our New York field office, proud as punch to be bringing in a demon he had taken down himself.

Let him feel useful. Let him show our supervisors that having him around was beneficial. I wasn’t going to bust his bubble right now.

I didn’t go searching for him. He was literally coming out the door when I was on my way in. Do you think if an off duty firefighter was walking by a house, and that house happened to be on fire, he would keep right on walking?

Desmond frowned. That’s actually a tremendous metaphor you’ve accidentally stumbled into, so let’s go with it. This firefighter you’re imagining, since he’s just walking down the street, probably on his way to couple’s therapy, he’s likely not wearing all of his fire gear, right?

Shit. I knew where he was going with this and I was already kicking myself.

No, I would assume not.

"So even though his day job might be fighting fires, because of his unprepared state, it would be very unsafe and stupid for him to run into a burning house, right?"

I chewed the inside of my cheek.

Perhaps our imaginary firefighter might have been better off calling in a report. Letting more prepared people take care it.

This time I couldn’t hold in my frustration. Except the firefighter was worried about what might happen to other people if he let the fire get away. Because the fire was giving him some super evil, bad fire vibes, and he knew if he didn’t follow the fire something terrible would happen to someone who didn’t deserve it.

Sure, Desmond agreed. He could have gotten burned to death.

I don’t like this metaphor anymore.

Desmond worried about me. I mean worried about me. And it was a constant source of fights between us since I’d become human. He was the East Coast werewolf king, technically making me his queen, but having a human queen was hard for some wolves to swallow. More than when I’d been a half-werewolf, because at least then I’d had werewolf blood. A lot of them wondered why it was I hadn’t let him turn me into a full wolf, since I carried the gene for it. Desmond himself had asked me about this at least once every other week for the last five years.

I kept saying soon. I kept saying maybe.

I kept being human.

And with my stubborn decision, of course, were all the pitfalls of a human body. And I guess my husband wanted his wife’s body to come home in one piece every night. Hard to be mad at him over that. Especially when I’d lost count of the number of times I’d broken bones since becoming mortal, or nearly gotten myself killed because I’d tried to take on a bad guy who would have been easy pickings when I was strong, but now outclassed me.

Don’t get me wrong, I could still manage my way around a fight, even with the baddest baddies on the planet, but these days I came back a lot rougher for the wear. Lung punctured by a broken rib? You bet I’d managed that one. Getting kicked down a flight of concrete stairs and narrowly avoiding a broken neck, but absolutely breaking my wrist and dislocating my shoulder? Yup, that too. Having my insane mother try to rip my heart out of my chest with her werewolf claws?

Still had the scars to show for it.

He had a good reason to worry, I suppose. But at the same time, didn’t I always come home? Five years later I was still coming home alive. Shouldn’t that have proven how capable I still was?

The entire home discussion was another major sore point, since I currently lived most of the time in Los Angeles and commuted back to New York whenever I could.

We had issues, okay? The therapy wasn’t just for funsies.

A phone started buzzing and I fumbled for mine guiltily, because it would be just like the FBI to call me while we were in the middle of an argument. But Desmond held his up. It’s me.

Whereas I would have left the room for privacy—mostly a pointless gesture given his amazing lupine hearing—he stayed on the couch, more than willing to let his wife know what was happening in his life, business or personal.

It felt like a punch in the gut. If there was a prize for best spouse in a relationship, he would win it hands down. I didn’t even deserve a participation ribbon. God, I sucked at this.

Slow down, slow down. He was suddenly sitting upright on the couch with all of his attention focused on hearing what was going on on the other end of the call. Avery I need you to take a deep breath and say that all again, only about ten times slower this time.

It was Avery Bliss, Desmond’s second in command, the next most powerful wolf in the pack after him. And after me, if I would let him bite me already.

I had to admit the longer I thought about it, the more the appeal grew. It would be nice to have my powers back, nice to belong to a primal, powerful source of energy again. Being with the FBI gave me a sense of purpose, but nothing quite lived up to the sensation of having an animal inside you, one who doesn’t care about what you want all the time.

I gave a little shiver of excitement at the memory, then reminded myself: if I became a wolf again, I couldn’t go back to Los Angeles. The king of the West Coast packs was no friend to our own pack, and barely recognized Desmond as the legitimate king on a good day. He would never grant a request to let me keep working there.

Pulling my feet out of Desmond’s lap, I sat up straighter, trying to hear any of Avery’s part of the call. It was coming through all rushed and high-pitched.

I heard the name Lucas.

My heart stopped.

Did she say Lucas? I asked.

The former king. Desmond’s best friend. My former husband. Also formerly dead. Except now he was back and had been traveling around South America for the last six months. Why on earth would Avery be talking about Lucas in such a panic?

Most people didn’t know he was back from the dead. It helped that he’d been fiercely private in his life before. There weren’t a lot of photos of him kicking around, so most people outside the paranormal community didn’t have the clearest sense of what he looked like. His name was much more famous than his face.

The pack all knew he had returned. Desmond hadn’t been willing to keep such important news to himself. He’d worried that when the truth ultimately came out, the pack would think he had been covering it up to keep his power. Really, Lucas had no interest in going back to being king. So Desmond had told everyone the truth. Lucas was alive, but he wasn’t reclaiming his throne.

A few folks thought it was wrong, that a Rain should be in power if one was alive, but most of them recognized what a good job Desmond had done over the years since Lucas died, and were happy to continue with him as the king.

But again, why was Lucas’s name coming up right now?

Desmond’s gaze darted to me and then quickly away.

What are you trying to say? he asked.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t making him very happy. The tense line between his brows got deeper and deeper, and his shoulders hunched more with every passing second. It was as if he was trying to curl in on himself so maybe he could escape from this conversation.

Been there, buddy. Usually around Dr. Simmons.

Leslie.

Okay, I’ll be out there as soon as I can. A pause. No. No, I haven’t. You’ve been on this call the whole time, have you heard me say anything? He glanced at me again, this time holding my gaze. Yes of course she’s here. He gritted his teeth so hard I heard them creak. "That