Zane (Keepers Of The Lake Book 6)

by Emilia Hartley

  Before she knew what she was doing, she had the front door open. It was like just smelling the vodka prompted her to make awful decisions. She was already outside before she could stop herself. The creep looked up at her from the straining porch chair. The seat was already broken, and the weight of his muscles was pushing it closer to absolute destruction.

  She gestured to another seat. “This one might not break on you. I’d hate to ask you your name and have the chair fall out underneath you. I’d have to call you Oof for the rest of our relationship.”

  “Oof?” He stood and cast a very confused look in her direction.

  “Yeah. Because when you go to tell me your name, you’ll say oof instead. You know…when your ass hits the porch.”

  He didn’t laugh, but he did shake his head. Her jokes were always funnier when the people around her were drinking. Though that was a kind of warning sign that maybe she drank too much. Another warning sign. The first was that she thought yelling at a lake was a good idea.

  “Well, so there’s no confusion, my name is Zane.”

  It suited him. It had an edge, a sharpness to it that made her wonder if she would cut herself on him if she reached out and grasped him. She wanted to, and that was a thought that scared her. She’d never wanted this badly. The urge lived in her core and made her fingers curl into hungry fists. But she held her ground and didn’t touch him.

  He was a creep, and she needed a new life. She was too old to live in the dorms. Not that there was a rule against late twenty-somethings living in the dorms, but she didn’t want to be surrounded by the early twenty-somethings. They would only remind her of the years she lost, and Chelsea wasn’t about to give in to that kind of pain.

  Maybe she would find a nice apartment complex nearby where she could hear her neighbor’s television through the walls and the upstairs neighbors’ arguments through the vents. She would never feel alone there. Not like she did in this little house without Zara.

  “So, Zane. Why are you following me around town today? Do you plan on killing me? Because I’ll have you know I’m a screamer.”

  There was a momentary glimmer of confusion in his dark eyes before they widened in understanding. A soft blush across his cheeks followed. Chelsea leaned back and reveled in the small victory.

  “I have no plans to kill you,” Zane told her, but the way he said it made it sound suspiciously like he planned to kill someone.

  She dropped into the broken chair. “Okay, I’ll bite. If you’re not going to finish me off, then who do you plan on killing?”

  “You’re absurdly morbid for a young woman.”

  She let out a bitter laugh. A truth had been festering inside her for six years. Ever since she discovered her high school sweetheart in bed with a coworker. Their faces when they found her in the doorway had been burned into her mind. She could never forget them. Married at eighteen, she spent four oblivious years with him.

  “I have my reasons,” she replied.

  He grunted. “If you need to know, I plan on killing my old clan leader. It’s his fault I was trapped for the last decade. If he has his way, he’ll kill every human.”

  Thoughts of her awful ex left her mind. She leveled an incredulous glare at Zane.

  “You can’t be serious. You aren’t a time-traveling Scotsman, are you? Because I hate to tell you that your Scottish accent is non-existent and, well, I’m sure your clan leader has been dead for centuries.”

  He scowled at her. “I smelled a shifter here. Surely you know about how our kind works.”

  “What?”

  Shifter? What the hell was a shifter? This creep was talking utter nonsense. At least she knew he didn’t plan on killing her. She could keep him company a while longer, listen to his insane stories, and maybe keep him from hurting anyone else. Her phone was inside on the counter. If she needed to call the cops, she would just have to scream really loudly and hope someone else called for her.

  That, or dart inside. Either worked.

  “I must have been mistaken,” Zane mumbled. When he raised his head, she saw honesty shine in his eyes. That, or it was the gleam of insanity and she was losing her mind, too. “Since we’re fated mates, this is stuff you will have to know. I am a dragon shifter. Inside me lives a beast that I can unleash. There are others in this world, like the person who lived with you, who can take on smaller forms. I suspect…” Zane sniffed the air. “She was a fox shifter?”

  Chelsea had seen a black fox around the house nearly a hundred times. It was nothing more than a fox, scouting the neighborhood for garbage scraps because someone probably built a parking lot over the poor creature’s natural habitat. Chelsea didn’t think about how she’d never seen Zara and the fox at the same time, or how every time she went to find Zara to show her the fox, the fox was suddenly gone.

  “Bullshit,” Chelsea spat, even though she was almost convinced. “If Zara can shape change into a fox then her fiancé must be a dragon, too, or something.”

  Zane sat up straighter. She thought she heard a growl emanating from his chest. Maybe that was the drone of silence pressing on her ears. She couldn’t be sure.

  “What’s his name?” She thought she heard a soft threat in his voice.

  Chelsea wondered, for a moment, if it was a good idea to give this creep Asher’s name. Then again, Asher was a professional fighter. If anyone could protect himself, it was Asher.

  The moment Zane heard the name, he stiffened. His lips curled into a sour scowl. He lurched to his feet and began pacing. Her heart stammered wildly. She wanted to grab him, force him back down into a seat, and push the menacing energy back inside him. Once again, she moved without thought. She touched his arm, and Zane went still.

  His breath hitched. She heard it. Something hot and needy stirred in her core. She did her best to shove it aside. No man was allowed to have that kind of sway over her ever again. She didn’t need him. No matter what her body told her.

  “You look like you robbed some poor man on your way here. Those clothes don’t fit. Come inside and let me find an outfit that might fit better.”

  He looked her up and down, clearly aware of the size difference between them. She rolled her eyes and yanked the creep inside. This was it. This was how she died.

  So, maybe she was being dramatic. This guy hadn’t attacked her yet. The only time he’d laid a hand on her had been to save her from falling into the blasted lake. She couldn’t explain why, but she trusted him. To her, he was just Zane. It was like she’d known him forever.

  It could have been the easy way she teased him. Maybe it was his unshakable appearance in her life. When others might leave, she looked to Zane and instinctively knew he wasn’t going to go anywhere unless she chucked him into the sun. Which, she wouldn’t ever be able to do.

  Zane was a big chunk of heavy muscle. Muscle that she wanted to run her hands over. The desire only sharpened when she led him into her bedroom. The unmade bed filled her vision. She easily imagined laying atop it with Zane over her. A hungry sound vibrated her throat until she swallowed it down.

  “What did you say?”

  “Oh, uh. Nothing. Nothing at all!” she said, panicked.

  She couldn’t believe he’d heard that. She needed to get control of herself or else this was going to be messy. Zane was a stranger. No matter what her instincts told her, she needed to use her damn brain. It would work better if she hadn’t pickled it with liquor. Seducing Zane was off the table.

  Definitely not on the table, where she wanted to be slammed.

  She shook her head to dislodge the vision taking up space in the front of her mind. At her dresser, she knelt and yanked open the bottom drawer.

  “Let’s see what might fit you better.”

  Her words were lost on him as he watched the curve of her ass drop toward the floor. He desperately wanted to know what it felt like cupped in his hands or pressed against his groin as he rubbed against her.

  His mate wore leggings, nearly sheer from so
many washes, and it was not helping him concentrate on the conversation. Only when she stood and showed him the men’s clothes in her hands did he come back to his senses. He stared at the bundle of cloth then at the drawer in the bottom of her dresser. It was bursting with men’s clothes.

  A film of red covered his vision. He didn’t take the clothes even when she pushed them at him. The scent of other men blossomed in the air, and rage overcame him. The beast trapped inside his body thrashed. He could feel it like water slapping the inside of his skin. Every now and then he felt the sharp spine of a fin stab him like a needle in his heart.

  “You have a boyfriend?”

  Chelsea snorted. The sound was bitter and cold. “Not a chance in hell. These are from the few times men have come here. They always leave something behind.”

  Her words didn’t help. He imagined the men coming through her room, touching her and thinking they could own her. He wanted to roar and hunt them all down. Finally, he managed to swallow and reach for the clothes.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him to try on what she gave him. He was tempted to drop it to the floor and crawl over her, push her back onto the mattress, and show her what it felt like to be truly worshipped. He could make her scream his name over and over. Anything for her.

  She was his everything. His forever.

  But she wouldn’t be safe until he took care of Alistair. The clan was plotting something. He was sure of it. If he spent all his time here, then he was giving them all the time they needed to cause destruction and death.

  She watched him, though. Her eyes danced along his body and set his skin on fire. It had been a long time since he’d felt warmth. Would her skin be just as hot? Would she ignite flames in him again?

  He feared he would always have a bit of the water in him. It would always drown the flames of what his beast had once been. There was no going back to the life he’d had. He would forever remain a result of witchcraft and lies.

  “Oh my god,” she suddenly exclaimed. “It’s not like I haven’t already seen you naked. Just put on the clothes already.”

  He pursed his lips. “I feel like this is a game to you.”

  She shrugged, not at all affected by his accusation.

  “These smell like other men,” he growled.

  She got up, sauntered over to him, and snatched the t-shirt from the bundle in his hands. As she held his gaze, she rubbed it over his open chest. The beast surged to the surface, hungry and ready to claim her. All he needed to do was bite her neck. Then all would know she belonged to him.

  With one hand, she pushed the flannel shirt off his shoulders. He let her take it off, reaching to palm her cheek once it hit the floor. She was so close. He could feel heat rolling off her in waves. He wanted to consume it, to feel it burn inside him, to feel himself inside her. Everything focused down to just the two of them.

  That was all that mattered. All that existed.

  Their breath mingled. The shirt slipped down his chest, bouncing over each muscle. Her eyelashes fluttered. He could have sworn he heard the hitch in her breath. She was marvelous, turning to butter in his hands. He let his touch slide down her neck. She didn’t flinch when his fingers closed around her throat.

  Just as their lips were about to meet, a flicker of worry burst in his chest. It crackled like fizzing fireworks. Zane leaned back.

  Her eyes flashed open. Her disappointment was obvious, but he couldn’t help himself.

  “I could have killed you right there. Do you not care about your own life? Even the smallest bit?”

  She blinked. Once. Twice.

  Then reeled away from him.

  Anger lit over her features. Her lips flapped like she was trying to say something but could find no words. Zane just watched her, thoroughly confused. Finally, she shoved the shirt into his hands and mumbled how it should smell like him now before leaving him alone in the room.

  He wondered what he’d done wrong. All he tried to do was point out that she should have more of a sense of self-preservation. Why she let a man like him, nearly a total stranger, wrap his hand around her throat, he didn’t understand. He could blame it on the bond starting to form between them. Even that felt halfcocked. Did his mate want to die?

  The shirt in his hands protested, threads ripping. He caught himself and yanked it over his head. There was a grinning skull on the soft, black fabric. It felt like a warning sign for all those that would look in his direction. The jeans he snatched off the floor, dropped when he touched her, fit perfectly.

  Zane was nearly human again. Or, as human as a dragon shifter could get. The years lost to the enchanted sleep under the water were fading. The chill in his blood was starting to leave. Maybe it was his proximity to Chelsea. She was a small fire, but one that threatened to carelessly destroy all it touched.

  If he left her unattended, she would end in ruin. He needed to stay and make sure she didn’t drown herself while drinking or let another stranger into her house. When he stepped out, he heard something playing. It was like a talk-show, but he didn’t see anything on the television. The hosts shared gruesome facts about murders and the investigation cases around them.

  Was this what she listened to when she was alone?

  He leaned in the hall and watched her rummage around the fridge for food. She came up with a handful of red grapes and two slices of deli cheese, coming up short when she saw him watching. A scowl furrowing her brow, she ripped a piece of the cheese off with her teeth, stalked over to the device broadcasting the talk show, and jabbed a button to silence it.

  “Are you hoping to posthumously become a guest?” He gestured to the device, referring to the show she’d been listening to.

  She sighed and plopped into a table chair. Behind her, an open pantry was half empty like someone came and cut it down the middle, clearing out everything to the right. Someone else had lived here. The fox shifter.

  The one now mated to Zane’s old friend. Asher was part of the clan again. Zane remembered catching glimpses of him. He could hear Asher’s voice like an echo of a memory. Everything was fuzzy. He was starting to suspect that some of his nightmares weren’t just dreams. They were reality.

  Zane looked up. The nightmare where he saw Chelsea floating in the lake. Not floating. Drowning. That was a memory. He wanted to say something, even opened his mouth, but he became afraid that she would throw him out if she knew.

  “For your information,” Chelsea began. “I don’t want to die. I’m just incredibly stupid and careless.”

  “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

  A slight smile quirked the corner of her mouth. “But you won’t argue about the careless part?”

  He gestured vaguely to himself in her house. “Also, you nearly took a plunge in the lake when I first found you. You were pretty drunk.”

  That explained a lot, actually. Not much time had passed between then and now, even if it felt like an eternity to him. There would still be alcohol in her blood. It was pushing her to make bad decisions. He wouldn’t take advantage of them. He would wait until she was fully sober again, then see if she still reacted the same to him.

  “Should I make a bed for you on the couch?”

  He laughed. “I point out that you’ve let a complete stranger into your house, and you offer to let him stay the night?”

  “On the couch,” she reiterated. Her gaze slid up and down his body, prompting her smile to widen. “The lost and found looks good on you.”

  Zane did not like the fact that he was wearing clothes that not only belonged to other men, but men that had touched her. Yet, he didn’t have his own wardrobe anymore. He didn’t even have a place to stay. He couldn’t go back to the cabins yet. The clan was there, and they posed a threat with Alistair among them again.

  This was the only place Zane had to stay. He didn’t like that Chelsea so carelessly let strangers into her life, but he knew his intentions with her. He did not want to cause her harm. If anything, he wanted to whi
sk her away to a world where nothing would hurt her ever again. Not that he thought it possible. Chelsea seemed like the kind of person to trip over her own feet and land in a pile of trouble.

  “I’d cook dinner, but I’m a little worried that I’m buzzed enough to chop off my own fingertips if I try cutting anything. Oh, and I don’t have enough money to buy take-out. You’re welcome to raid the fridge or pantry.”

  “I wouldn’t let you near a set of knives anyway.”

  “Why? Because you plan on stabbing me with them later?” She was incredibly blunt, yet there was a teasing tone to her voice that made him laugh.

  Zane could imagine a happy future with her once he convinced her they were meant to be. He could see the word mate meant something to her when he said it. A flicker of recognition kept igniting in her eyes. She belonged to him and she would accept it soon.

  3

  It wasn’t so bad, even if Zane was nearly a stranger. Having someone else puttering around the house and making noise settled the loneliness that had taken root in her. While in bed, she listened to Zane move around. He wasn’t careful or courteous. His footfalls were loud. When he closed a cupboard, it rattled everything else in the kitchen.

  She didn’t care. It was a kind of bliss for her.

  Knowing he would accuse her of being morbid again, she didn’t bother turning her favorite podcast back on. The background noise should have been enough to comfort her. Instead, she found herself awake and staring at the ceiling even as the clock on her nightstand counted well into the morning.

  Annoyed with her body, she got up and padded out into the kitchen to make herself a cup of relaxing tea. Her favorite lavender blend was on the top shelf, meaning she had to rise up on her tiptoes to grab it. Her fingers grazed the box and knocked it back out of her reach. Before she could turn around for a chair, Zane pulled the tea down for her.

  His heat and male scent pressed in against her. She bit back the moan trying to escape her. He smelled glorious, like overturned earth and sandalwood. It made her feel like she was a princess lost in some forbidden wood with a sexy monster on her heels.