10. Brakkus
Brakkus
Ifollowed Hannah down the hall as she carried Otto to his nursery for naptime. She was still in her swimsuit, her fat ass jiggling like pudding. My eyes widened at the thought, my dick twitching in my damp trunks. I scrubbed my hand over my face and covered my mouth. What was happening to me?
Hannah disappeared into the nursery and closed the door behind her. I was losing control. Whatever she was doing was having its intended effect on me. I had to get to the bottom of it and fast.
I stepped into my office and closed the door, still in my human form and swim trunks. Sitting behind my desk, I picked up my cellphone and dialed Trey. I’d had him hire a private detective a week ago, and there was supposed to be an update by now.
Trey answered on the second ring and I asked him if the PI had finished his report.
“As a matter of fact, I was just about to forward it to you. Do you want me to go over the gist?”
“Yes,” I said, drumming my fingers on the desk.
“Okay. The report is on its way.”
“Tell me what he found.”
“Generally speaking, Hannah Brooks is exactly who she says she is. Her background is cleaner than clean. She’s a licensed RN in the state of Texas since 2019.
She worked at Dell Children’s Medical Center in Austin until summer of 2025.
And has been a top-rated in-home nurse with Austin Family Caregivers ever since.
The PI was very thorough. He wasn’t able to poke any holes in her employment or educational history. ”
“What’s her financial situation?” I asked, sure there had to be an angle. No one was that good. There had to be a reason she was making me tent my swim trunks. She had to be using pheromones to seduce me, and I was going to prove it.
“She took a slight pay cut when she went into private care, but she’s not hurting.
Her student loans are paid off. She’s got a 401(k) that she contributes to each month.
No real debt. The report suggests there is no financial reason for her to be running a con on a rich mark. She has a stable career…”
“No tabloid connections? I asked for the PI to look into that specifically.”
“He didn’t find any suggestion of a connection to celebrity photography of any kind.” He paused and sighed. “But I think you should understand who Hannah Brooks really is, Brakkus.”
“Okay. Tell me.”
I braced myself to find out what a deviant grifter she was.
“Hannah’s mom died when she was nine. She was survived by Denis Brooks, Hannah’s father.
And Hannah’s two siblings. Kyle, 22, and Megan, 25.
This is where the PI’s report really shines.
He was able to dig into the family dynamic.
It looks like they all basically lean on her.
Dad seems pretty codependent. The brother is always tapping her for money.
The sister less so but always has some drama. ”
“What’s the brother’s connection? Anything to the tabloids?”
“No, boss. There’s no connection. He looked. Read the report yourself. He didn’t find anything suspicious. When you called you said it was a feeling. Is there anything specific that happened since? If you’re worried about Otto…”
“No. It’s nothing. I must just be paranoid,” I grumbled. “Thanks.”
I hung up, annoyed with Trey. Annoyed with the PI.
Annoyed with myself. I was sure there was something.
Something about her was just off. I was sure she was trying to seduce me.
The smell of her drove me wild. The shape of her body was making my mind crave sin.
The way she cared for Otto, for everyone…
was just too good to be true. There had to be an angle. It just didn’t make sense otherwise.
I stood, grumbling and angry, and stormed out of my office. I was about to slam my door, but stopped myself, remembering Otto was sleeping down the hall. But the force of the air knocked over the painting sitting on the floor against the wall near my study.
It fell onto its back on the floor at my feet. Staring up at me was the face of my dead wife. Nadia.
I slowly bent down onto my knees. Nadia. I’d taken her portrait down and tilted it against the wall after I fired Brielle. I couldn’t bear to see her face, questioning why I’d let that woman into our home.
Nadia. I ran my finger along the gold-green skin of her cheek. Her fine ivory tusks glinting in the sunlight. She was wearing a red satin dress with full puffed sleeves and a low neck that scooped down to her cleavage. She was so beautiful. My mate. My wife.
I picked up the portrait and carried it down the hall to the door beside my bedroom.
I hadn’t been in here since she died. Her dressing room attached to the master suite, and I’d left it closed off for six months.
I set the painting on an upholstered chair.
And started to walk through her closet, running my hands over the fabric of her clothes.
She was so sophisticated and stylish. Such aristocratic and educated taste.
We were so different, but somehow, we fit together.
I picked up the cashmere sweater she’d worn the day before she left for her parents’ estate in the Old Quarter enclave in the Hudson Valley, New York.
She’d been wearing it that morning while she was packing for the trip.
And I was packing for the fight in Chicago.
I wrapped my arms around her and kissed the back of her neck.
I could still feel her in my arms in this sweater now.
I rubbed the delicate silky wool between my fingers.
Tears pulsed hot behind my eyes, and I buried my face in the sweater.
Taking a deep inhale through my nose, I tried to make out her scent.
It had been so strong the day I’d locked up this room.
The scent was fading now, barely perceptible after months of decay.
A tear finally broke free and slid down my cheek. Nadia.
I thought of the day we met. It was at a monster pride event in Las Vegas six years ago.
Everyone was monstered out. I remembered watching her dance at the monster ball that night at the hotel.
She was wearing a form fitting red dress, the one with the low neckline.
She caught my eye. But when she came over to the bar where I was standing, the scent of her hit me like a freight train.
That’s when I knew. I knew Nadia was my mate. She knew too.
In that moment, when our eyes met, when we scented each other, we both knew we’d be together for the rest of our lives.
I rubbed the sweater between my fingers, the memory of her hot and painful in my chest.
The way she made me feel. I’d never, ever felt anything like it before or since. Until now…
Until Hannah…