Monsters & Guardians

by Kay Elle Parker

  “Yeah, yeah,” Cabh muttered sullenly. “Just make sure you get some decent food this time. That vegan shit was a waste of time. Fucking tree bark and yak piss. We’re carnivores, Mal, try to remember that.”

  Mal chuckled. That house had been heavy on pillows and throws, but the food situation had been dire. Nothing that could have been produced by, come from, or touched by an animal graced the hallowed shelves. So he’d loaded up anyway, thinking it might come in handy in the event of a natural disaster.

  His brothers had not been impressed. Not one iota.

  Cabhan slipped up the stairs like a hulking ghost, while Malachi moved in the direction the kitchen should be. He wasn’t worried about the occupiers; human scent had faded to non-existent, the only traces emanating from their furnishings. The owners were not in residence and, judging by the dust, might not be back for a while.

  He hit the cupboards first, taking anything and everything of interest. Raine was a funny one, and if she turned her nose up at the meagre offerings from their scrappy kitchen, he wanted something tasty and tempting to bribe her with. Beans, soup, some sort of stew, they all went in the bag. Cans clunked as he tossed them in, moving from one cabinet to another.

  Oh boy, someone was a snack freak.

  He found chips, lots and lots of chips, candy and chocolate. Pretzels. Everything and anything a diabetic might need to overdose on sugar. Grinning, wondering if Raine would be more receptive to him with gifts of sugar-laden goodness, Mal shoved it all in the bag.

  The fridge was next on his list. He found a good stash of beer, cans and bottles. Enough to have a couple relaxed nights, kicking back with a beer after rutting Raine and surviving her claws.

  Aside from some cheese that offended his wolf’s sense of smell, there was nothing really that grabbed his attention. But the freezer section, now that was a gold mine. Steaks, chops, chicken breasts and rabbit. Some very nice cuts of venison and what looked to be duck.

  This was a total bachelor pad. Malachi was willing to bet his left testicle there were three different game systems in the TV room, and more than one rifle in the coat room. He knew the type, would applaud them if they didn’t insist on shooting at his furry ass during open season.

  He’d suffered a round of buckshot or two in the ass more than once and had even taken a bullet to the upper thigh when he’d been younger. The wound disappeared as soon as he shifted but escaping the elated hunter and getting to safety was a trial he didn’t want to repeat anytime soon.

  He searched a few more cupboards, discovered a stash of soda he thought Raine might enjoy—he hoped she wasn’t one of those pernickety women who wouldn’t drink anything unless every last calorie had been sucked from the can. Well, she could either drink it and thank him for his thoughtfulness, he decided as he threw the whole lot in the bag, or chuck it at his head and disembowel him in one of her furies.

  More than likely, he faced the second option anyway when it was his time to knot her—she really was a fiery hellcat. Less than half the size of them in height and weight, and yet she’d not let one of them get away with touching her without her permission. Drawing blood was her field of expertise, and she didn’t need a weapon in her hand to do so.

  Cabhan thundered back down the stairs, his bag thumping behind him like a schoolboy dragging an old-fashioned satchel. “Please, God, tell me you found something better than tofu.”

  “Motherlode, brother. Got enough meat in here to last us a week at least.” Mal bent and zipped up the bag, lifted it without effort despite the weight of it. “How about you?”

  “Dude’s a neat freak. Like, obsessive. Lone guy by the look of it—one lonely razor lined up exactly in line with the washcloth on the bathroom sink. Everything just so. Straight lines, immaculate precision.” Cabhan left his haul near the front door. “Borrowed some of his clothes in case of emergency; they look like they’ll fit.”

  “Never mind clothes. What about the shit for Raine?”

  “Five matching sets of pillow cases, duvet covers and sheets, as ordered. Thermal, so the owner must spend some time up here in fall or winter, which means we need to start being careful—both out there in the woods and coming down here to steal.”

  “Been doing this a long time, Cabh,” Malachi reminded him.

  “Just takes one wrong step,” his brother shot back. “Anyway, I found a huge throw thing, black and fluffy. One of those faux fur things, I think. Doesn’t smell like it came off anything living. Took that, some more pillows and another duvet. Should have enough to last a little while, at least until we can get the others washed and dried.”

  Malachi scoffed and shook his head as he moved to the door, stepping around Cabhan’s overstuffed bag. “The fucking things want burning, Cabh. There’ll be enough bodily fluids in those sheets to clog a washing machine.”

  They stepped cautiously back into the cool night, eyes scanning the huddle of houses with experience. Nothing moved. Malachi wedged the door shut carefully and dropped his bag, readying for the shift. “Think Finn’s had his turn yet?”

  “Nah. Alpha seemed pissed and the bitch is knackered.” Cabhan studied the sky. “Dawn’s about five hours off; bet it’ll be close to the sun rising before baby brother manages to get his leg over. That’s if she doesn’t kill him.”

  Mal shuddered, her voice haunting him as she begged him to stop with words half-slurred with drugs and alive with pain. Quinn had been right about those eyes. Gray, glassy, yet watching him with a hibernating rage blooming under the daze.

  Then the ball-blistering agony that had ripped from cock to scalp to feet, ricocheting around his body like a sharpened bullet, tearing his mind free of the bliss of orgasm into the hell of crushed testicles.

  “She’s not going to be easy to live with; watching our backs will be fun in itself.” He started the shift, watched Cabhan do the same, until they were just a huge pair of black wolves with bags at their feet. In the same instant, they both reached down and grabbed the handles in their jaws, clamping tight as they loped back toward the trees, their gait hampered by the bags banging into their front legs.

  Attention focused on getting back to the den with their prizes, neither one of them saw the massive white wolf step out from behind one of the houses, head cocked with interest, before it followed them.

  *

  Quinn

  He paced the floor like a caged tiger. Thirteen paces one way, thirteen back. Guilt gnawed at him for several reasons, the worst of which was sat in a chair looking pensive and more morose than Quinn had ever seen him.

  Because he’d screwed things up and cost Dubhlainn the trust of his mate.

  Raine’s words had cut him deep; he couldn’t imagine being Dubh and having his heart ripped from his chest. Her expression hadn’t been cruel, there was no maliciousness in telling the Alpha what he’d had in his grasp and let go. She might hate them, but in that moment when truth spilled free? Quinn thought she’d looked as broken as Dubhlainn did now.

  Had the Alpha actually fractured part of that thorny outer shell and wormed inside her thick skin to the insecurities below? If so, there was both a reason to grieve and cause to have hope for the future.

  Grief for the pain Raine must be silently enduring through a broken heart. Was she humiliated by Dubhlainn’s inadvertent rejection? Yes. Yes, she was. Some of her more recently hostility grew from just that insult alone. He couldn’t imagine being so vulnerable as to surrender his heart to someone he considered a monster, only for that monster to deceive him in the worst way—and in effect, that was all Dubh had done to Raine.

  But if she hurt, that meant her heart might still be connected to the Alpha, even if she didn’t want it to be. The heart was a powerful and wise tool, often knowing what it required before the rest of the person caught up. In Quinn’s opinion, the only thing that could outrank a heart was the soul.

  The soul was eternal.

  So, perhaps there was hope for Dubhlainn to smooth things over with his beloved. It
would take hard work, dedication, opening himself to the female in ways he’d never imagined before, but if Dubhlainn was adamant Raine was his mate, the one he intended to keep for the rest of his life? Of theirs? He was going to need to get his head out of his ass and lose the veil of gloom and darkness.

  Quinn continued to pace. He could hear Finn busying himself in the kitchen they’d fashioned, probably fussing with and refining some of the units they’d installed. None of the O’Callaghan brothers were plumbers or electricians, but they’d cobbled together a working kitchen and Raine’s quarters without too much hassle.

  The clock was ticking down in his head. Nearly two hours had passed and Raine’s alone time was drawing to an end. He prayed fervently she’d used it wisely, replenishing her body and her mind with food and sleep. Of course, he doubted it; that brain of hers was a machine, spinning away at ten thousand revs a minute, always assessing and planning her next move.

  “Dubhlainn.” Quinn scowled when his brother ignored him, lost in his own world. “Alpha!”

  Dubh’s eyebrow quirked, then dulled blue eyes met Quinn’s. Yeah, his brother was hurting inside, all right. Chances were the wolf was howling and pining the apparent loss of their mate. That was hell on a shifter’s composure, Quinn knew, and eventually took its toll on the soul. Hearing something in pain every second of every day? No respite, no relief. It was enough to drive the strongest Alpha into spiraling insanity.

  “Yes, Quinn, what do you want?”

  “It’s almost time. I’d like to go check on Raine before...well, before.” They might both share Raine as their mate but Dubhlainn still held authority over her wellbeing, both as Alpha and as the first to knot her. Asking permission came naturally to Quinn. “If you think it might help, I can start the growl. It might calm her before we corner her yet again.”

  Dubhlainn sighed. “Shit. I knew I meant to do something. Go, Quinn, see what you can do for her. I’ll try and teach Finn the growl before we come up. She gets agitated when the noise falters, and nothing goes smoothly when she’s riled.”

  “Okay. I’ll do my best.” Pacing turned into forward motion as he headed for the stairs and the treasure waiting at the top. He was almost to the door when he heard Dubh shout for their youngest brother and wished Finn all the luck in learning that damned growl.

  The bedroom was empty. Quinn slipped through the door, clicked it quietly at his back, and just waited, listening. No noise, nothing to indicate where she might be poised ready to ambush his unsuspecting ass, just silence. It unnerved him.

  Carefully, he lowered to his knees, peered under the bed but no Raine. Rising, he eyed the wardrobe. With soft footfalls he crossed to it, lifting the sheet Dubh had draped over the smashed door and sniffed. The scent of her was stronger in the room than it was here; she hadn’t returned to the haven she’d spent so much time and energy creating. That saddened him. Any female who took the time to devise a safe place shouldn’t be put in the position of abandoning it because of impatience and anger. Another unfortunate strike on Dubhlainn’s murky slate.

  Only the bathroom left for her to hide, he mused, and hesitated. Sneak attack or would she just come at him with a full-frontal assault? Edging closer to the door, he opened it and pushed it open, standing to the side in case she came flying out at him with a shampoo bottle as a weapon. Knowing her, she’d be able to knock him out with just that.

  But although her scent—estrus the more dominant aroma, while her heat had died to almost non-existent—grew stronger, there was no sound to suggest she was in there. She certainly wasn’t screaming at him to get out or muttering savage curses in his direction.

  Wary, he stepped into the bathroom. Everything was in its rightful place, save for the exhausted redhead curled into a tiny protective ball in the tub. Her knees were up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Her cheek was smushed against the ceramic, her lips open a fraction, and her skin a faintly mottled shade of blue. She hadn’t bothered with any of the comfort they’d left her with, no pillows or covers, not even a blanket for fuck’s sake, to keep the chill off her. Looking at her, he imagined that chill was bone-deep, seeping from the porcelain into her vulnerable body.

  Proud, stubborn female, shivering away in the bath while she slept.

  Quinn growled before he reached for her, hoping to calm her before she opened her eyes and kicked his ass. The sound stuttered a bit, developed into quite a smooth, soothing noise he was actually proud of. Not as powerful as Dubhlainn’s Alpha growl, the one she responded to best, but enough she moaned softly, her limbs loosening from their grip around her naked form.

  He hefted her without effort from the tub, grimacing as her cold flesh hit the heat of his. Shit, she was freezing. He pulled her tighter against him, shocked when her arms came around him as she shivered.

  “No more, Dubhlainn, please.” Her lips moved against his shoulder, slow and almost wooden. “So cold. So tired. Just want to sleep.”

  Quinn’s brows shot up. Hope was definitely still alive if she was pleading to the Alpha while in his arms. He eased her head back, studied her eyes. Delirious with fatigue, possibly delayed shock. The gray was blunt and heavy. “Sweetheart, it’s Quinn. Do you want Dubh?”

  Her fingers gripped hanks of his hair, holding his head in a surprisingly painful grasp as he carried her into the bedroom and sat down with her on his lap. He growled softly, drawing a thick blanket around her. While her body tried to crawl into his, seeking the warmth, Quinn piled pillows against the headboard. “Quinn?”

  His wolf grew possessive, arguing that they were there when their mate needed them; Dubhlainn was not. Why should they relinquish the female in her time of need to the absent Alpha?

  He laid half-propped against the pillows and arranged Raine’s tremulous body along his own, ensuring as much of his skin was flush against hers as he could manage. Then he reached out and arranged the blanket over them both, followed by a quilt. He growled under his breath to calm her, keep her drifting.

  Red hair spilled over his chest, her breath shuddered over his flesh in rapid exhales. Her scent struck him, potent as ever, but for once he discovered he was able to tame the wolf and set Raine’s basic needs above his own.

  “Dubhlainn?” she whimpered softly.

  “No, sweetheart. I’m Quinn.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head and rubbed his hands over her beneath the covers. “Did you eat anything, Raine? Drink something?”

  There was no sign of the plate, the glass. Had she hidden them? To what end?

  The tenseness of her body eased as her flesh began to warm. The twitch of her jaw stopped, her teeth no longer chattering. Limp, she seemed to flow over him like a living, breathing blanket. “Dubhlainn coming?”

  “You hurt him, sweetheart,” he murmured. “He might need time.”

  Her breath caught sharply. “I did?”

  “Afraid so, sweetheart. Sometimes the truth hurts, and if you told him the truth, good for you. We need you to be honest with us, Raine. Tell us what you’re thinking, you’re feeling. For you, we want to be guardians,” he continued, not knowing whether he’d crossed a boundary or two. “Your monsters, sweetheart, who will guard you from anything and anyone who might harm you. We can be that for you if you let us.”

  A tear dripped onto his chest. “I could have loved him.”

  Movement caught Quinn’s eyes; he looked up to where his brothers stood in the doorway. Finn appeared hesitant, his eyes already swirling with the battle between wolf and man, while Dubhlainn’s shoulders sagged in absolute defeat. There were less than a handful of years between the Alpha and Quinn, but at the moment, Dubh looked fifty years old. Exhausted and beaten.

  “Could have?” Quinn questioned, meeting Dubh’s mournful gaze. “Or do?”

  “He almost had me convinced.” A sad little laugh huffed free. “Another day of being with him like that? Caring and tender? Despite everything that happened before him, I would’ve fallen. Then he held me while you fucked me,
knotted me, and turned me from mate to whore.”

  “Never that.” Dubhlainn’s voice was strong, fierce. “Mate to me, mate to us all, you will never be a whore, Raine. You are...fuck, there aren’t words for what you mean to me. To my brothers. You’re not just our mate. I know that’s what we’ve prattled on about over and over, but it’s not all about heat and estrus and mate.” Dubh grew frustrated, it showed in his voice and Quinn could see it grow over his brother’s face like a shadow.

  Raine stiffened at the sound of the Alpha’s presence in the room, but Quinn found it interesting how she softened the more she listened to the lead wolf. More importantly, he thought with relief, how the scent of her heat swelled without a growl from either of her mates.

  Dubh being in close proximity was enough to arouse her of her own accord.

  Hallelujah, praise the Mother and the Son.

  “We want to spend our lives with you, precious. Maybe we don’t know everything about each other yet, but for me at least, something in here,” Dubhlainn stepped closer to the bed and touched his fingertips to his heart, “told me you were mine. I broke your trust, Raine. In trying to do right for my brothers, my pack, I shattered the fledgling bond between us without seeing what a gift you were ready to give me. Had given me.”

  “The betrayal was mine,” Quinn reminded them both. If that fledgling bond Dubh spoke of was to be repaired, Quinn had to take responsibility and blame for the event that caused the rift. Raine needed to see Dubh not as the instigator but as another victim, so to speak, of Quinn’s lack of control.

  In his eyes, he could take the time to fix whatever broke between them. They were mated, yes, but Quinn wasn’t essential to leadership, wasn’t required to be on top of his game to the same degree as Dubhlainn. His brother’s focus had to be sharp and on constant alert.

  Especially with Killian in the area.

  Quinn didn’t trust that albino bastard anymore than he trusted his father.

  Dubhlainn opened his mouth to argue; Quinn glared at him fiercely enough to have the words die on his brother’s tongue. Instead, the Alpha said, “As a pack, we are at fault. As Alpha, it means I take accountability for the actions of the five of us as a whole.”