A Shifter's Bodyguard (Pale Moonlight Book 5)

by Marie Johnston

  “Harrison,” she breathed. “Oh, my Harrison.” She wrapped a hand around his cock and guided him inside. “I treasure you, too.”

  She cupped his face as he pushed in and out of her. His body trembled, taking it slow, but of all the times he’d had sex, this was not the time to fly apart and climax in a few thrusts.

  She met him for every thrust, kissing his chin, the corners of his mouth. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she dug her heels into his ass.

  So beautiful. Her hair spread around her like a black velvet cloud. He dropped his head and scraped his chin along her collar line as he nibbled her satiny skin, knowing damn well it drove her crazy.

  She shuddered in his arms. “That’s just naughty.” But it had the desired effect. She tensed tighter around him, inside and out.

  He turned over the reins to her body. His hips jacked in and out and she coiled harder around him. Their peaks were imminent and with his face at the crook of her neck, a new sensation took over.

  He wanted to mark her. His jaw flexed. Marking a female was like both a promise ring and a tattoo with his name on it. They’d only just confessed that they liked each other, though he hadn’t come close to saying how he really felt.

  In this bed, he said it all. His body was all hers. But his mind… He had to open himself to her first, give himself to her, trust himself with another female again.

  “Do it.” She cupped the back of his head without missing a beat. “Claim me.”

  Mine. He clenched the bedding between his fist but continued to hammer into her. Do it. All he had to do was bite down.

  “We both know this is special. Mark me.” She said it in her commanding voice.

  This was the female for him. But as he opened his mouth again, all he could think about was another female who’d relied so completely on him.

  Sylva wandered around the garden with Mother. Father roamed the yard, looking at the property. She touched a spot on her neck, the one Harrison had left unmarked, for the twentieth time since he’d left.

  He’d tried to explain. She’d said she understood, but when he’d driven off, she’d felt less special. They both had baggage and it was possible that their luggage wasn’t going to match.

  Mother pointed at the remnants of the strawberries. “At least you know those will come back. The raspberries, too. And rhubarb. Not even shifters can kill rhubarb.”

  Sylva stopped to glower at the decaying plants. Once a bumper harvest, it had turned to compost. “The fruit I’m not worried about. I’m almost over mourning the loss of the veggies. You should’ve seen the tomatoes.”

  “Do you sell your stuff?”

  “I preserve what I’ll eat for the next few years and then bring the rest to work.” Where they had a pantry for shifters who came to them hungry. No one told them who donated the food. It was better that way.

  “You’ll be starting over.”

  Yep. Her pantry was now empty, clean, and smelling like pickles.

  “I can help with that,” Mother said quietly. “If you’d like.”

  Father sauntered over. “I will, too.” She stared at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. “Tell us when you want to plant and we’ll come back.”

  Father digging in the dirt? Gardening was considered too menial for the head of the family. The task had been relegated to her and Mother. A duty they hadn’t had a choice in, but had loved. Gardening was their reprieve. It was outside, too public to talk, but she and Mother worked in harmony.

  It the kitchen, where they processed the food—that was a different story.

  “I’d like that.” She smiled at Father. “You two are welcome here. Anytime.”

  Mother turned from the plot. “Actually, we’ve been discussing changing packs and moving here. Now that it’s possible with the Synod’s interference.”

  “There are a few rentals in town,” Father added. “And I managed to keep some money out of the Raymores’ greasy paws.”

  “It wasn’t easy.” Mother and Father exchanged a knowing look. “Shawna is ferocious when it comes to payments. She can smell a lie better than the rest of her pack.”

  Father nodded. “Which made her a good tax collector.”

  Exactly why Sylva championed the needs of those in isolated packs. “No one should be going door-to-door, bullying the population in the name of tax collection.” She shook her head. “I almost wish I had gone with Harrison and Malcolm, just to see her face when he tells her that her family’s reign is over.”

  All those times Shawna had snidely commented about real power having to be earned. That the Raymores could earn it, but people like Sylva and her parents were born to be pawns.

  Born to be pawns.

  “Why are so many of our mates born within the colony?” Living among her own kind in Tame Peaks and working for the Synod, she’d spent years listening to their stories and learning how their world was really supposed to work. She hadn’t thought about that unique aspect of Four Claws before because that had been her normal.

  Then Harrison had shared how special he’d felt, finding Gloria so young. It was a unique occurrence in his world. But in Four Claws, it was more than common. It was all of them.

  Mother’s gaze cut to Father. He dropped his head. “The Raymores’ grandmother has the ability to…” He shrugged, looking more defeated than she’d ever seen him. “Every baby goes to her. For her blessing.”

  “And she just randomly assigns mates?” Sylva’s incredulous voice rang out through the yard. “That’s so wrong. How does anyone have that kind of power?”

  Father’s expression was full of regret. “Speculation is that it’s unnatural, but she’s ancient.”

  “Between the power shift and her age, the colony should be safe from now on.” Sylva’s mind spun. “Just in case, I’ll call Jonathon and Demke. They might have more instructions for Harrison and Malcolm.”

  Mother’s mouth was pursed. “We think she somehow passed it on to Shawna.”

  If so, then the power dynamics were weighted more heavily in the Raymores’ favor than she’d originally thought. She should send a direct message to the twins. They might meet more resistance than anticipated. “I need to call Harrison.”

  “About him.” Father’s troubled expression wasn’t as severe as she was used to. “He’s a good guy?”

  She wrapped her arms around him. Yes, she was old enough to decide for herself, but knowing Father was watching out for her, that he was determined not to make the same mistake twice, gave her all the love she’d thought she’d been missing.

  “Yes,” she murmured into his shoulder. “He looks grumpy, and he is, but he’s good and I got to choose him.”

  Father hung on to her for a few more moments. Then Mother came in for a group hug. Sylva squeezed her eyes shut as her chest swelled so full it could burst. Moments like these were what had been taken from her, relaxed and full of love.

  Love she had to accept whether she felt worthy or not. If she’d proved herself strong enough and pulled the trigger, would Harrison have claimed her?

  Mother pulled back first, dabbing her eyes. “We need to head out. Your father wanted to grab our stuff and get out while those twins are there.”

  “But we thought it best we not arrive at the same time,” Father said solemnly. “Nor was arriving earlier a good idea.”

  She gave them each a separate hug. “Drive safe. I love you guys.”

  As she watched them drive off, she dug out her phone. She was about to pull up Harrison’s number when her phone rang. Startled, she nearly dropped it. Was it Harrison? Was he calling her as she was calling him?

  Smiling to herself, she peeked at the screen. Demke.

  Her grin faded as she answered. “Hello?”

  “Sylva, thank the sweet mother.” He was out of breath, his words rushed. “Get somewhere safe and grab a weapon. John Todd escaped.”

  Chapter 18

  Harrison was grateful this wasn’t some sit-down shindig. After a four-hour d
rive, the last thing he wanted was to plant his ass in another chair and pretend to be civil.

  This meeting wasn’t civil. A wizened old grandmother was snarling at them. A young male restrained her on the front porch of her enormous ranch house. Other residents in town had followed them out.

  On their way into town, they’d broadcasted—with a bullhorn—who they were and why they were here and to follow them if they wanted to learn the latest news from the Synod and how it’d change their lives.

  The convoy of cars had gradually grown until shifters had changed into their wolves and ran alongside instead. Wolves were interspersed throughout the trees surrounding the place, some lounging in plain sight under the early-afternoon sun.

  His gaze swept the place. All the homes they’d passed going into Four Claws had been small, plain, and old. Well cared for, but more than a few decades old. The yards were just as plain.

  He and Malcolm started a game of “Where do the Raymores live?” as they drove. Any property with a lush, landscaped yard that included more than native materials qualified. As did the homes with more than a couple thousand square feet, like this place.

  This sprawling manse sat on eighty acres just outside of town. The house belonged to Grandma Raymore. The male holding her was a distant cousin of Roman Raymore. Half the townspeople were distant cousins of Roman. Most of them were direct descendants of Grandma Raymore.

  Roman’s family was at the top echelons of power. And he and Malcolm had just wiped out half of them. Except for the sister, but the way this colony treated its females, he wasn’t as concerned about her as the brother left alive in the Synod’s prison.

  Malcolm argued with Grandma Raymore about the Synod’s declaration that neither she, nor any of her kin, was in charge. He spoke loud and clear, practically grinning while he verbally sparred with Granny.

  Grandma Raymore spat on the ground, her mouth twisted. Harrison studied her. She radiated power. He didn’t have to know the history here to understand that no one had ever spoken to her like his twin was doing now. He also didn’t have to be clairvoyant to know that the rest of the town, the ones not related to this matriarch, savored the interaction.

  “The decision is not yours,” Malcolm said. “You can stay here or move, but no matter where you and your pack goes—hell, I don’t care if the whole clan leaves—you will no longer hold power over others. All community decisions will be communicated to the Synod through representatives. And we’ll pick the reps before we go.”

  He and Malcolm were constantly monitoring the shifters surrounding them, determining who lacked the strong stench of deceit and rampant, uncaring power. Whose expressions looked like they actually cared about the future of this place? Who didn’t look like this was a great opportunity to turn their own pack into the Raymores now that they were out of the way?

  His choices were narrowed down to five. Two shifters in the trees, two dudes who had ridden out with them, and the female who was with them.

  “The Synod has no say on what we do here.” Grandma Raymore’s voice rang out, surprisingly strong for a stooped female. “We’re an independent colony.”

  “Are you shifters? Cuz then yeah, they do.”

  “Dirty fangers have no say over us.” Grumbles ran through the audience. A twinkle lit her blue eyes. She’d hit a sticking point, just like they’d known she would.

  “Again, that’s a yes. The Synod comprises two shifters, a hybrid, and two vampires. But all are in agreement. As are we.”

  Her jaw worked like she was going to spit again, but she spoke instead. “One of those shifters is a coward who murdered her mate in cold blood and fled the colony.”

  The crowd went silent. Harrison eyed them. What Sylva had done had rocked them to the point where he doubted few ever mentioned it out loud. The possibility of freedom, of escape. Those who’d fought back like Sylva had probably been dealt with swiftly since then.

  Harrison wanted to jump to Sylva’s defense, but since her smell was all over him, it was best for her that he kept his mouth shut.

  Malcolm would take care of it, and he did. “That shifter is a respected leader on the Synod who bested her opponents. Quite honestly, I’d love nothing more than to see her come down, take you on, kick your ass like she did your grandson’s, and boom! problem solved. But it’s the principle of it all. The Synod said; therefore, you do.”

  Grandma Raymore smiled and it was eerie. “She’d never win. Shooting a male when he’s not looking is not a victory. It’s a death sentence, and I’ll personally see that she pays for her crime.”

  “I didn’t come here to discuss past transgressions. However, I’d guess your grandsons have a lot worse under their belts. So, it’s a moot point.” Malcolm swung around and pointed to the two males and the female. “We’d like to have a talk with you.”

  That was the first time alarm passed through Grandma Raymore’s expression. “You don’t talk to my people.”

  Malcolm let out a long-suffering sigh. “We’ve already covered this. You’re not in charge. Shall I repeat the statement?”

  Another wad of spit hit the pavement. From the faintly rotten smell she emitted, she must have a bad tooth. A sign of her age, if she wasn’t healing from it.

  “Why does that male smell like her?”

  The yard went quiet again. All eyes were on him. He refused to fidget or twitch.

  He met Grandma Raymore’s gaze and said in a steady voice, “We’ve started seeing each other. I didn’t have to force her, nor did I want to. It’s a new concept. Your family should try it sometime.”

  If the place had been quiet before, now it was like death had descended. Except for Malcolm’s snort next to him.

  Grandma Raymore recovered faster than he’d thought she would. “How can we trust you, or the Synod, when you’re in her pants?”

  “Why should this colony trust a family that has abused its position for centuries?” he countered. Arguing like this was satisfying. He might step in for Malcolm once in a while after this. “You don’t have to like it, but your grandsons are gone. They’re not coming back. You’ve already lost and you’re the only one who doesn’t see it.”

  Her lips curled and she adopted a knowing gaze. “I’m not throwing in the towel yet.”

  Malcolm turned his back on her and beckoned the three closest candidates over. “I want to do this in front of everyone.”

  They approached, but one of the males kept shifting his gaze to the elderly female. Suspicion wafted off him. His gaze would scan the rest of the crowd, then go back to the landing.

  “Is something wrong?” Harrison asked.

  The male shook his head, then resolution seeped into his gaze. “If the Raymores cause trouble, we have the backing of the Synod? You guys are serious?”

  Malcolm nodded. “You’d have priority with the Synod.”

  The other male looked at his companions. He must’ve gotten some sort of unspoken approval. “The sister. I don’t see her.”

  “What do you mean?” Harrison asked. He wanted to rub his chest. The need to shift and run full throttle pounded through his veins and hammered at his heart.

  “Shawna Raymore. She’s been the real power since Roman’s death. I don’t see her. I think that family is up to something.”

  “She’s not here? At all?” Harrison spun in a circle, glaring at each shifter as he sifted through individual scents.

  “No,” the guy replied. “I don’t think she’s even in the colony at the moment.”

  Harrison lifted his gaze to Grandma Raymore. The glint in her eye was deadly, and her lips curved into an arrogant smile. “Your female is going to pay. She’s already lost and she doesn’t even know it yet.”

  Sylva slammed her front door shut and flipped the lock. Fat bit of good that thing would do. She skidded through the cottage, stumbling over the sudden change in flooring.

  She ran down her stairs and found the safe tucked deep into the spare room’s closet. Déjà vu, but this time wa
s different. This time she was ready. Flipping the top open, she grabbed the pistol. Light streamed through the windows, making the gun look way more harmless than it was.

  It was loaded and ready. She just had to keep from shaking so hard that she accidentally fired. The old-school six-shooter only had five more bullets.

  Dragging in air, she willed her pulse to slow down. She could do this. It was her or John Todd and she couldn’t lose.

  Wishing she’d taken a moment to ask Demke some questions, like how long John Todd had been free, she patted her pocket. Dammit, where had her phone gone?

  She’d flung it onto the counter as she’d slid past. Why the hell hadn’t she brought it with her?

  Was he coming out here alone or were there more? The rest of the Raymores hadn’t worried her. The power dynamics meant she’d likely done them a favor. There were now a few siblings closer to attaining control for themselves. But what if they were using John Todd to get to her?

  She’d have to get her phone. Jogging upstairs, she tucked the pistol into the back of her jeans.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

  John Todd.

  She twisted her head around, like she could see through the walls to his exact location.

  Creeping closer to the front door, she peered out the window next to it. This was too much like before. Except it was a gorgeous August day and her windows were open. Which meant the only thing standing between her and John Todd was a window screen.

  Demke was probably sending Guardians out here. But he’d only just called.

  Dammit.

  “Whore! Turn the gun on yourself yet?” His taunt made her bare her fangs.

  “I have a bullet with your name on it,” she shouted back. Should she shift? No, then she’d be stuck fighting him until one of them quit moving. She wasn’t confident it wouldn’t be her.

  His laughter was just insulting. “Little Bunny’s got some fangs. Too bad they’re not earned. This fight is just you and me.”