Harrison counted each gray hair on Demke’s head to keep from looking at Sylva. He and Malcolm stood in front of the head table as if they were discussing a need for additional funds for sparring gear. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Sylva’s cool regard was back in place. A false front. How had he never seen it before?
Demke continued with the list of instructions. “We’ll let Sylva debrief you about the brothers and their history. Meanwhile, Jonathan and I will notify the Guardians here to be on the lookout for them.”
Jonathan nodded and Harrison was grateful to turn his attention from Sylva. “I will touch base with the West Creek Guardians and let Commander Fitzsimmons know that your presence is required here for longer than previously expected.”
Harrison hadn’t minded being loaned out here so much in the last few years, but now he’d rather go back to West Creek and forget about that terrified gleam in Sylva’s eyes. He’d never been one to care about others’ opinions of him. He was the grumpy twin, the one some were even scared of. His mood was as dark as the look on his face, but he wasn’t cruel. But the look in Sylva’s eyes when he’d opened that door had made him feel as bad as all the rumors said he was.
Malcolm would sense his unease about guarding Sylva. Would he attribute it the same reason for the anger rolling off him? Malcolm’s emotions had nothing to do with Sylva personally, but that someone would hunt down a lone female in the middle of the woods. They might not have a warm and fuzzy glow toward Sylva and the way she tended to pretend they didn’t exist, but if someone thought they could terrorize her… Not on Malcolm’s watch. Not on their watch.
Harrison wasn’t sure how he felt yet. The way she’d trembled in front of him was imprinted on his brain. That fear. She hadn’t been seeing him per se, but he’d been close enough for it to feel personal. And he didn’t like it one bit.
It had only been a couple hours ago when she’d looked at him like her own personal nightmare crashing through the cellar door, and now she had to put her life in his hands. If there was irony there, he didn’t treasure it.
“I think that’s all for tonight,” Jonathan said. The male was as chill as always, never stringing out their meetings just for the sake of hearing himself talk. The respect Jonathan had for him and his brother spoke volumes. There was no need to linger here when it was clear the twins would know what to do.
Malcolm addressed Sylva. “We need to stop at our place and grab an overnight bag. Looks like we’re moving in.”
His brother had tried for a light tone, but from the intensifying scowl on Sylva’s face, it had gone over as well as a tornado siren. Sylva shrank in on herself. The movement was tiny, but Harrison caught it.
When she sent a darting look his way, he caught, too, a glimpse of that staggering vulnerability from earlier. Then it was gone, replaced by the cold, hard expression he knew her for.
“Let us go then.” She rose and walked stiffly through the chamber and the receiving area, out the double glass doors.
The walk in the damp night air to their pickup was the only thing that saved him from the frigid vibes rolling off Sylva. As they approached the pickup, his gaze caught on the box where they’d dumped John Todd for the drive over.
Malcolm landed on the same conclusion. “We’ll swing by the automatic car wash before we go to our place.”
“A little blood doesn’t bother me.” Her tone was defensive.
“Doesn’t it?” The words—and a disbelieving growl—were out of Harrison’s mouth before he could think them through. “The male hunted you down and you’re saying that the scent of his blood won’t bother you?”
She leveled her stare at him, but he caught her hard swallow. “Why don’t you think I would relish it?”
Malcolm cut through the tension, like he always did, the lifelong buffer to Harrison’s caustic attitude. “I think you should. You took that bastard down. I could leave it messy, a driving billboard announcing ‘Don’t fuck with Sylva.’ ”
She blinked, but the sincerity in Malcolm’s words did the trick. “A wash would be fine. The scent would only invite questions.”
And she didn’t want anyone in her life. Her lone existence in the middle of the woods made that clear. They were a pack-minded people. Even he and Malcolm had found a pack to be a part of after they’d left home. At the time, they’d wanted credibility. Working for the same pack that had protected their father would have diminished any good they did, and possibly interfered with Father’s work buffering the damage the Lycan Council inflicted. He hadn’t done enough and that was why he was in prison, so the pack arrangement had been fortuitous. Harrison and Malcolm were never as involved with the West Creek Guardians as they could be, but it was better than nothing.
“The works, coming right up.” Malcolm palmed his keys and unlocked the vehicle.
Sylva hesitated over whether to crawl into the front or the back.
“You’re in the back,” Harrison said, for once wishing he could speak without sounding pissed off. “You can duck down if we run into trouble.”
Sylva’s shoulders tightened, but she got in. He went around to the other side and ignored the steady look Malcolm gave him. He didn’t have to see it to know it was a combo of “Maybe lighten up a little” and “If she hadn’t been through hell tonight, I’d be a little salty about this assignment too.”
The drive to the car wash was quiet. Malcolm would start rambling soon. He didn’t do uncomfortable silence and had taken on the task of peacekeeper in their family at a young age.
Once the spray shot out of the nozzles, his brother twisted in his seat. “This might be a good time to fill us in on the brothers.”
Sylva’s complexion paled. No doubt she had been hoping her enemies would just charge into her space so he and Malcolm could smack them down before she was required to open up. She stared at the water-streaked glass, her tone emotionless. “My mate was a bastard who believed everyone was meant to serve his whims. He also took out his every grievance on me until I became little more than a prisoner.”
“And he was your mate? Or were you sold to him?”
Her expression tightened. “Natural mates.”
Ouch. She must have wondered what she’d done to deserve him.
Malcolm was the one who averted his gaze. “Some of us understand that finding your natural mate doesn’t mean happily ever after. Sometimes, they’re just a shitty person.” Or self-absorbed, in the case of Malcolm’s mate. Neither one of them had had a good experience in the mating game. In Malcolm’s case, he wasn’t at fault, no matter what he thought.
Sylva’s lush lips curved into a sympathetic smile. “Yes. Some of us understand. All too well.”
“How long were you mated?” For the first time in years, Harrison wasn’t content to let Malcolm do all the talking.
Sylva returned to her cool aloofness. “Five years.”
“What was the precipitating event after all those years?”
She paused so long he wasn’t sure she’d answer. “When he couldn’t get me with child and further shackle me to him, he mentioned that maybe his brothers could do the job. It wasn’t an idle threat.”
A low growl rumbled out of his chest. Sylva pressed into the door. He cut off the noise. She had to know that he wasn’t a threat to her, didn’t she?
Or did she? She didn’t know him and she hadn’t wanted to. “Would you prefer a female protection detail?”
She barked out a rough laugh. “Right? You would think so, but no. Not only do I not wish to share my story more times than I have to, but I also don’t want those looks. Those ‘I never would’ve put up with that’ looks, or those ‘I’m too strong to ever tolerate that type of treatment’ eye rolls. I had more than enough of those from Roman’s sister.”
“Fair enough.” Malcolm was still turned in his seat. “But you don’t seem to like us very much.”
“Do I seem like I like anyone very much?”
His brother laughed, but Harrison saw beneath her bravado. Sh
e was scared. Of them? Their very presence unnerved her, and it wasn’t only because she found their nightly activities disdainful. They were shifters who could hurt her if they chose to, and she’d been around other shifters who had hurt her merely because they could.
Chapter 3
“Do we need to bring extra bedding?” Malcolm called from down the hall. The twins’ flat was exactly the bachelor pad she’d expected. Little decoration on the walls. A heap of dirty laundry by the door. A mishmash of furniture and a pile of dishes in the sink—but they were clean, at least, set there to dry.
“I have two spare rooms and extra bedding.” It had come with the place. Otherwise she wouldn’t have bothered to furnish the spare rooms at all. She’d hesitated to purchase the cottage because it was larger than she needed. All that space and she hadn’t planned on visitors of any sort.
Crossing her arms, she perched on the edge of the couch. It was softer than it looked—and it looked like it should be waiting by a Dumpster. It had to be older than the building. She had tried to wait by the door, but Harrison had curtly informed her to “stay away from the doors and windows.”
When he’d asked if she wanted a female protection detail, she’d almost shouted her answer. No thank you. Her feelings on that subject originated with her mate’s sister and the perma-snarl she’d worn whenever Sylva had visited. Shawna had known full well what her brother had been doing to her.
Then there was the rest of their clan, who’d had the same opinion as Shawna. And there was herself. Seeing her own opinion of herself echoed in the eyes of others? There was a reason why she lived alone.
Harrison packed a black overnight bag while Malcolm rattled off their packing list and rifled through cupboards.
An unmistakable scent tickled her nose and she sneezed. Darting upright, she put distance between herself and the couch. But standing by the kitchen counter that separated the main room and the kitchen didn’t help.
“Is there anywhere you two haven’t had sex in here?” she snapped. The musky odor of hormones and pheromones hadn’t faded enough for her taste. And what was she doing sorting through the smells for Harrison’s particular scent?
Harrison continued packing his bag, unperturbed. “It is our home. Where else would we have sex?”
“A restroom always works in a pinch.” Malcolm seemed to want to lighten the mood, but he only filled her head with random images that made her hot and achy. “I had the pickup detailed last month, or you would’ve been sneezing up a storm.” She was backing up to a bare section of wall to spare her own hormones when Malcolm gave her a sympathetic smile. “You don’t want to stand there either.”
Harrison froze, his gaze slowly climbing up her body, then to the wall. The shirt in his hand got shoved into his bag.
“You must have so many good memories together.” Pure sarcasm poured out of her.
“I don’t remember any of them,” Harrison said so low that the vibrations rolled right through her with the words.
What would it take for him to remember?
She mentally shook herself. Harrison’s sex life was none of her business, nor any of her interest. She might have to keep reminding herself of that until her brain got it. All she had to do was recall her past with her mate and his brothers. Harrison was gruff like Roman, and for all she knew, Roman had slept with just as many others during their time together—per week—as Harrison.
Her mate’s lovemaking could be tender, but it had also been one more way to mentally control her. After a particularly nasty bout or argument, he’d come to her with his figurative tail between his legs and those puppy-dog eyes and tell her how much he loved her and how sorry he was. As the days stretched into weeks and those weeks stretched into months, his story changed after each fight. The subtle insinuation started that it was her fault. That she was lacking. That if it weren’t for her, their fight wouldn’t have happened.
And when he fucked another female, it was because she was bad in bed.
A hot flush crept up her neck and her face. Those claims had gutted her. Then there was the one time she’d boldly informed him that she’d only ever had one sex partner, so if she was bad at it, perhaps it was her teacher’s fault.
She’d worn those bruises for a full forty-eight hours before they’d faded entirely.
When she brought herself out of her memories, she caught the twins looking at her. She was standing in the middle of the apartment, staring at the floor.
“What?” The word came out of her mouth like a whip.
In the Synod chambers her tone would’ve sent everyone but her fellow Synod members scurrying. But Malcolm only raised a brow and Harrison scowled at her from under his dark eyebrows. The male’s beard gave him a more dangerous vibe than was reasonable.
But danger wasn’t what she felt when he was around.
“I think we’re all packed. We should stop at a grocery store before we get to your place.” Malcolm shoved a hand through his shaggy hair and of course it landed in an artful arrangement. “I doubt you have enough to feed the two of us for a day, much less a couple of months or however long this takes.”
A couple of months? For once she wanted Roman’s brothers to be competent at a task and get this over with to spare her the humiliation.
“Yes, a grocery store visit would be necessary.” There, she sounded calm and collected. But the way Harrison studied her said he didn’t buy her act one bit.
Unpacking the groceries, Harrison wished he could quit being surprised every time he opened the cupboard. Short of being alphabetized and labeled, these were the tidiest cupboards in the nation. Either Sylva organized her home for a good time or she was so tightly wound up that any disorder threatened to tip her off the edge she teetered on.
Next to him, Malcolm unloaded steaks, hamburgers, and more bacon than a human could consume in a lifetime. “We might need to buy a beer fridge.”
“Just how long do you plan on this taking?”
“A lot longer now that those brothers probably know we’re here.” He spoke low to keep Sylva from hearing. She had retired to her bedroom for the night. “If they waited this long, they’re willing to attack her as one of the Synod. They’re not gonna be stupid about how they go after her. I wouldn’t be surprised if they picked the doofus brother as the guinea pig just to fill her full of fear so she could live in a state of anxiety while they plan the rest of their attack. They likely want her to suffer.”
Harrison ducked his head, wishing he were clear minded enough to think strategically. Instead, he’d been looking at his and Malcolm’s place through her eyes. It was little more than a sex den. The way she’d sneezed and looked around like she wanted a bath just because she’d stepped through the doorway had filled him with unexpected shame. Not for how he lived, but for how he’d gotten there. If he’d been stronger, if he’d done more, things would’ve been radically different.
But then after Sylva had made known exactly what she thought of them and their extracurricular activities, the feeling that had rolled off of her was one he couldn’t identify. But he’d wanted to. She hid a lot, just like she hid from her past.
Malcolm was right. If those brothers were anything like her mate, they were playing mind games with her. Those would be harder to protect her from.
All of the groceries were put away, the fridge was filled, and the freezer was stocked full of so much meat they could hardly shut the lid. It was time to officially start work.
“So how do we work our shifts?” Malcolm crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. At least one of them was thinking about the mission and not just the shifter they were protecting. “There’s an extra bedroom up here and one downstairs.”
“I’ll take the ground floor one.” He refused to look at his brother. If they were protecting anyone else, Harrison would have fought Malcolm for the bedroom farthest away from their charge. He shouldn’t have opened his big mouth.
“And I’ve got the basement.” Yeah, his twin kn
ew something was up, and he also probably sensed that Harrison didn’t understand either and figured it was best to ignore it for now.
Mind on the mission. “Twelve-hour shifts. I’ll go first.”
That would give him the night, when no one else was up. He had some sense of self-preservation. Sylva got to him in a way he couldn’t explain, in a way he shouldn’t want to explore so much. Taking watch when she would be sleeping was the best idea. But he wasn’t giving up the room next to her.
Malcolm pushed off the counter. “I’ll be up at noon, then we’ll switch to eight-to-eight shifts. We’ll figure out any trips to town or when she needs to go in and sit on the Synod later.”
It’d give him something to think about through the dawn and into the early morning. Sylva should sleep until close to noon—if she slept at all.
Malcolm disappeared into the basement. He was alone now. If he had to spend the whole time inside this house, he was going to go crazy. Perimeter checks outside the house and sweeps through the nearby woods would be necessary at least once or twice each shift. His twin would know that was part of the plan. Neither one of them would be getting solid sleep till the Raymores were all caught and put away. Or worse. It sounded like they deserved worse.
Blistering fury built up inside of him. Shifters who used their position to intimidate and bully others should be the last ones in power. He wasn’t going to let another person get swept up in their particular type of bloody destruction. He would gladly rip apart anyone who came after Sylva, just like he had the ones who’d killed Gloria.
Brimming with the restless energy thoughts of Gloria always evoked in him, he glanced outside. He could burn it off checking the surroundings. Even more if he shifted and ran.
He yanked his shirt off and was mid fold when Sylva’s bedroom door swung open. She stopped abruptly, her gaze plastered to his bare chest. Appreciation lit her eyes. He wanted to puff his chest out like some sort of damn caveman. She stepped back into the shadow of her bedroom entry.
A Shifter's Bodyguard (Pale Moonlight Book 5) Page 4
