Rezso

By Kat Parrish

Raised by werewolves when his own kind rejected him, Nikolas "Rezso" Rezansov is hired to protect the only survivor of a murderer preying on Los Angeles' witches—a woman whose love is a greater threat to him than the unknown killer.

 

Even a lone wolf needs a pack.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dark Valentine Press
• Release date: Jan 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215922071

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

I was in the garden of the little Craftsman house my mother had painted robin’s egg blue when I got the call from Michael Etebari. He only calls me when he needs me to come to Los Angeles for a job.

I fucking hate L.A.

For about a second, I thought about ignoring the call, but I owed Mickey and his clan a debt I could never repay so I picked up the phone and swiped right.

I need you here, he said without preamble because Mickey’s the kind of annoying asshole who can’t be bothered to say hello because he assumes everyone recognizes his voice.

I’ll be there tomorrow, I said.

Tonight’s better, he said, which meant I was going to have to drive up to Seattle and catch a plane rather than driving down to L.A. in the air-conditioned comfort of my Cadillac CT6.

It’s a long drive but I don’t mind. Driving calms me down. Gives me time to think. And if I don’t feel like being alone with my thoughts, I always have at least twenty hours of podcasts cued up to listen to. My History Can Beat Up Your Politics and So Many Damn Books are currently in heavy rotation. My drive-time is never wasted.

Unlike time in the air.

Last time I flew, the fucking complimentary headphones didn’t even work so I couldn’t tune in to any of the airline’s lowest common denominator playlists in the musical genre of my choice. And I wouldn’t feed an airline meal to my worst enemy. The Frankenfood they offer makes chicken nuggets look like organic delicacies.

I fucking hate flying. I’m just not built for airline travel. Even the First-Class seats are too small for me and most of the time I’m flying coach. Mickey’s an asshole, but he usually accommodates my preferences, so the rush told me whatever problem was going on in Los Angeles was a big one.

It goes without saying that I fucking hate problems. Because Etebari Security problems were never simple jobs. And the problems I’m brought in to solve always get messy. Always.

My skillset Is pretty specialized and once I’m in the zone, it can be hard to get back to normal. Sometimes I don’t get all the way back for months.

In general, it’s better if I just lie low in my little blue house and ignore the outside world.

But as I said, no wasn’t an option when it was Mickey calling.

* * *

There’ll be a ticket waiting for you at the Alaska check-in desk, Mickey said as if I’d already said yes to the job and things were already settled. It was a relief to hear I’d be flying Alaska, though. That meant I’d be flying Sea-Tac to Burbank and would at least avoid the clusterfuck that is LAX, so there was that.

I’ll need a car, I said, without adding please, because I can be an asshole too.

Jon will pick you up, Mickey said and ended the call without saying goodbye.

I looked down at the dog frisking about my yard chasing butterflies and acting silly.

Looks like you’re going to be on your own for a while, I said. She did not seem to give AF, but at the sound of my voice, she abandoned the butterflies and pranced over to me, putting her head on my knee so I could pet her. I didn’t. She is not my dog. It is not my job to pet her. She never seems to take my disinterest personally. She gave me a friendly bark—If you change your mind, I’ll be right here—and then went back to playing with the butterflies.

It doesn’t take much to entertain her.

The dog had shown up about a month ago, nothing but skin and bones, with fur so matted it looked like felt. She’d nosed around my garbage cans looking for scraps but found no joy. I keep my cans locked down to foil the raccoons that roam the neighborhood.

But she kept coming back, kept getting closer and closer to my porch. She was wearing a collar, but no tag and I wondered if she was a dog one of the local college students had acquired as a puppy and then left behind when they graduated.

People did stuff like that.

I fucking hate people.

I’d ignored the dog when she first came around because I wasn’t interested in taking on a pet, but she kept coming back like she didn’t have anywhere else to go.

And then one morning I’d found her stretched out on my front porch, right in front of my screen door. She was so still I thought she was dead. But she heard me come out and raised her head. Her eyes were bright but sunken.

She looked so pathetic I went back in the house and fetched her some water and a bowl of leftover paella I was going to eat for lunch. The dog scoffed it down like she hadn’t eaten for weeks. She probably hadn’t. Afterwards, she came up to the porch glider where I was sitting and put her filthy paws on my