Heart Mates by Mary Hughes

options, there was just one thing left. She’d have to use Witch’s Sight.
    The groomer finished treating King’s scrapes and turned the dog around on the table. “My my, this little man has a quite a big package.”
    King shot him a look that would’ve frozen fire.
    The groomer simply smiled as he toweled, blow-dried and brushed out, then thumbed on the clipper, releasing a burnt dust scent. King’s low growl promised serious mayhem. The groomer laughed. “Just a trim, little man. No big deal.”
    With a grumpy yip, King turned forward.
    The man pursed his lips as he worked. He had gorgeous lips, very kissable.
    The groomer shot Sophia a look out of the corner of his eye. Somehow she forgot about lips.
    As the clippers buzzed and growled, her mind turned back to Noah. He hadn’t wanted her to interview Marlowe, concerned about his brother Killer. It occurred to her that anybody who concerned Noah Blackwood had to be pretty damned dangerous. Was Killer behind the walls weeping blood?
    She shook herself. Not thinking about Noah anymore.
    Or any less.
    She sighed.
    “All done. What do you think?”
    Sophia looked up. The groomer had given King an adorable, fluffy trim, complete with a pink froufrou of a bow clipped between his perky ears. She smiled. “Cute.”
    “What do you think, puppy?” The groomer picked up a mirror and held it before King’s face.
    Sophia thought it odd that the man would show the dog his image, like a hairstylist to a client. Then King’s eyes fastened on the bright pink bow.
    Dead silence.
    The dog went ballistic, snarling and snapping, the loop lead whipping.
    The man danced back, barely keeping body parts out of teeth-stapling range. Sophia alternately shouted and soothed, but the dog refused to calm down.
    King’s paroxysms loosened the table noose. He slipped free, jumped off the table, slid past their frantic outstretched hands, and ran directly to a file cabinet. With a hump and twist, he used the cabinet handle to pry off the bow.
    Sophia’s jaw dropped. The dog was amazingly facile about it, as if he’d planned the whole series of maneuvers. Cool once he was loose. No wasted motion.
    Just like a certain alpha.
    Damn it, she had Noah on the brain, a fever, and the only cure was more Noah. Or cowbell, she wasn’t sure.
    She rested her forehead in her palm and sighed.
    As they left the pet store, King strode ahead of Sophia, a gait which should have been impossible with his short little legs, but he managed it. He also managed to keep perfect tension on his new black leather leash while completely ignoring her. Yes, he was a dog and couldn’t talk. She knew from his stride and the way his nose pointed in the air that he was ignoring her in offended dignity.
    “I don’t see why you didn’t like the bow. It was cute.”
    King walked on, his tail waving like a warning flag and an extra swing to his male parts. She smiled.
    As they walked, her smile faded. Killer, an unknown Heart and the Hungry Ghost. Killer hadn’t followed her to the bookstore and there was no reason to think he’d know she was staying there—except for the fact that Matinsfield was a small town. It wouldn’t take much digging to find her.
    But she still needed to locate her aunt, so she headed back to the Uncommon Night Owl to do her duty. Besides, that was where her suitcase was, and she was smelling a little ripe.
    Inside the store was cool and dark, but her gut was churning. Worried about Killer, but also avoiding using the Sight. Frankly, she’d rather pet a porcupine. She shut the door. Locked it. Removed King’s leash. Fed the animals. Put fresh water down. Answered all her emails and updated her social statuses in three places before she knocked the phone between her eyes.
    Procrastination. Such a lovely word for crap-herself scared.
    She shut her eyes and reached mentally for the etheric.
    Witch’s Sight rode a gray line: while mundanes could do Sight, it took a whisper of power. So when she