Hunted_The Guardians' League Book One

by Amelia Elias

  She glared at him but didn’t say a word.

  It was as good as an admission in his book. Diego smiled, knowing it would infuriate her. “If I’m wrong, prove it,” he challenged softly.

  Her eyes went wary again. “Prove it how?”

  “How do you think?” He stepped closer, invading her space. “Kiss me. There’s no danger here, Sian. Prove it was only the brush with death that had you clinging to me like a second skin.”

  She went scarlet but whether it was from embarrassment or rage was beyond Diego to decipher. “I was not!” she hissed.

  He smiled again. “Prove it,” he murmured. When she still hesitated he played his ace. “It’s all right, Sian, I won’t think less of you if you’re afraid to kiss me.”

  It worked. A bare second later, she reached up and dragged him down, kissing him hard. Diego wrapped both arms around her and groaned as she kissed him with all the anger flashing through her. He took it gladly and gave back passion. His lips gentled hers, turning the kiss from an angry meeting of mouths to a slow, heady dance of seduction.

  Had he thought there was no danger here? How wrong he’d been. Her taste intoxicated him, every sweep of her tongue against his sending heat spiraling through his body, and it wasn’t long before she was every bit as lost in it as he was.

  It lasted only moments before she wrenched herself away, stumbling back from him with her fingers pressed to her lips. “That was a dirty trick,” she said, glaring at him, but she couldn’t hide the bright desire in her eyes.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

  “Well, I won’t fall for it again,” she muttered, turning her back on him and starting to walk again.

  Diego swept her off her feet and back into his arms again before she’d taken two steps. “Enough wrecking your feet for one night,” he told her, his tone brooking no argument.

  “Fine, you want to throw your back out, be my guest,” she said, surprising him with her easy acquiescence. Diego didn’t say another word as he made his way back up the drive, simply enjoying the feel of her in his arms. Being mated to this woman would be incredible if she ever stopped fighting him, he thought in amusement. She did everything with such passion, she made him dizzy. He hardly dared to imagine what it would be like to make love to her.

  He wasn’t very successful at not imagining, though, and by the time they reached the house his jeans were feeling decidedly tight. He glanced down at her to see if she’d noticed and found to his complete surprise she’d fallen asleep. Something inside him melted at the sight of her face relaxed in slumber, her formidable defenses down.

  On the heels of that thought came the familiar fear. What if he failed her, too? He knew she thought she was invincible, a fearsome fighter, but he’d overpowered her easily. Another vampire could do the same. Sian didn’t believe the dangers he’d tried to warn her about and he knew she wouldn’t do what he said and stay where he could keep her safe.

  It wasn’t that he thought a human had no chance against a vampire. He’d taught James how to fight practically from the cradle, teaching him the weaknesses of vampires and how to kill them. He had total confidence in his Steward’s ability to defend himself should an Outcast attack him. Sian had no idea what she was facing.

  Damn it, he didn’t want another mortal to protect!

  James opened the front door before Diego could reach for the handle, jolting him from his thoughts. “Why are you walking, Diego? Didn’t you leave in a car?”

  “Shh,” he said, glancing back down to make sure Sian hadn’t woken. “The car’s toast, along with everything else she had. It’s a long story and I’ll tell you later.” He brushed past his Steward and made his way up the stairs, heading for his bedroom.

  “Yeah, but why were you walking?” James persisted. “Seems to me you know some faster ways to get around, and your ribs can’t be fully healed yet.”

  Diego nudged open the bedroom door with his foot and gently lowered Sian to the bed. He hadn’t thought about his ribs once that night, his frustration with Sian so intense that the ache of his ribs had completely slipped his mind. He covered Sian with the comforter and ushered James out before answering. “She doesn’t believe in vampires.”

  James gaped at him for a moment before laughing. “Oh, man, this is priceless. You’d rather spend half the night walking around than show the woman you’re supposed to spend the rest of your immortal life with that you’re a vampire? I mean, it’s a sweet thought and all, but don’t you think she’s going to figure it out eventually anyway?”

  Diego sighed. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t find the humor in this particular situation,” he said dryly. “Look, I need to go out for a while. Keep an eye on her, will you? Try not to let her jump out the window this time if you can possibly help it.”

  James scowled at him, clearly not thrilled with the reminder of how she’d escaped him before, and turned to go downstairs. “When I took this job, I never agreed to be a babysitter,” he grumbled as he left.

  Diego ignored him and went back into the bedroom, deliberately not looking at Sian sleeping soundly in his bed before going out the window, taking the form of the hawk once more. The woman was far too tempting, even asleep, and if he didn’t feed soon his control would be nothing more than a memory.

  Things between them were precarious enough as it was. He didn’t need this craving for her blood complicating them further.

  * * *

  Chapter Five

  Diego fluttered through the open window, transforming back into his human form before his feet silently touched the carpet. He’d fed well in the hopes that hunger had compounded his desire for Sian. Now that it was sated he should be able to talk to her without this overwhelming need to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

  As soon as his gaze fell on her, though, he knew it was a futile hope. She still slept, one arm thrown back over her head in a way that made her breasts press temptingly against the thin material of his shirt. One leg had escaped from beneath the covers, bare all the way to mid-thigh. His mouth went dry at the sight of her. Sweet heaven, what he wouldn’t give to strip off his own clothes, slide into the bed beside her and wake her with slow kisses…

  Diego cut the thought off with a sharp shake of his head. Bondmate or not, he had no business fantasizing about her like this. It only made him crazy and didn’t help anything. Still, he couldn’t stop looking at her, beautiful in his bed, soft and trusting in sleep, her ferocity hidden. Fragile compared to him.

  So mortal.

  He walked silently to the edge of the bed and sat beside her, unable to stop himself from reaching out and smoothing her hair back from her face. His mind knew she was neither soft nor fragile and she’d happily prove to anyone she had no need of protection. All he had to do was remember how she’d fought him to know that.

  His heart, his fears, knew no such thing.

  How could he convince her to let him protect her? He hadn’t been able to save his Clan when the hunters had come. Guilt ignored the fact that he’d been only a boy and tormented him for his failure just the same. He’d been too weak, too late, and it was by the grace of a God he wasn’t sure he believed in that he and Anton survived.

  A century ago, Anton had needed him and Diego had failed him, too. This time he had no excuse of youth or weakness. He simply hadn’t been there. Eli’s intervention had ensured Diego couldn’t even claim the small satisfaction of revenge for his brother’s death.

  He couldn’t fail Sian.

  The memory of the destruction of her apartment made him want to howl with rage. Someone was after his mate and she wouldn’t tell him who it was. Didn’t trust him enough to tell him why. He touched her cheek, wishing he could read more than her surface thoughts and find the answers for himself, but even in sleep her mental barriers didn’t weaken.

  As soon as he hit the psychic wall, he hated himself for trying to take something she didn’t want to give. How could she trus
t him when he did something like this? Frustration and anger swirled together, a volatile mixture he couldn’t hope to contain for long.

  Sian sighed and turned her face toward him, pressing her cheek against his palm.

  The gesture cooled his anger as nothing else could. His thumb caressed her full lower lip before he made himself pull away. The memory of her gorgeous mouth on his was enough to send hot blood rushing through his every nerve, but he couldn’t let himself give in to desire. Not yet, not now, not while she still thought he was out to hurt her.

  He had to woo her first, and he was a hundred years out of practice and on edge.

  It seemed a monumental task. He really should move her to one of the other bedrooms until he found a way to do it, Diego thought with a sigh. She looked far too tempting there in his bed. But something inside him, something primal and completely unreasoning, demanded he keep her right where she was.

  My mate.

  My bed.

  He didn’t quite dare. It was the height of foolishness to keep her here. His emotions were already in an uproar, his body clamoring for a taste of her. Diego tore his eyes away from her lush mouth, her lips slightly parted in sleep, and caught sight of the tiny scratches marring the smooth skin of her exposed leg.

  He’d forgotten to heal her before he left.

  His fingertips touched her knee before he could stop himself. He could heal her without touching her, but it was much easier with the physical contact.

  That’s a lie and you know it, a little voice snorted derisively in his mind. The voice of reason, he assumed. You’re looking for an excuse to touch her and anything will do, aren’t you?

  So what if I am? Diego thought back, then shut the little voice down before it started taunting him again. He slid his fingertips down her calf, the scratches disappearing as he went, before wrapping his fingers gently around her ankle. He sensed she’d twisted it at some point, probably during their mad dash down the alley, and hadn’t even told him. He healed it with a caress and glanced at her foot.

  The sole was covered in little cuts and bruises. Diego covered it with his palm and erased them, mourning the chips in her peach nail polish. The brief thought of repainting them for her flashed through his mind and was gone. When he was done with her sole, he gently brushed aside the comforter and exposed her other leg, repeating the process for it. One particularly deep scratch on her calf tempted him and he bent closer, running his tongue over it and hardening at the taste of her skin.

  Finally he made himself pull away and draw the blankets back over her, trying to ignore the heat coursing through his veins. Good Lord, she was tempting, and his resistance to temptation was apparently at an all-time low. He had to get her out of here before he did something unforgivable. Trying to take her thoughts was bad enough. If he had any sense at all, he’d move her to another room and chain her down if that was what it took to keep her safe, even if she’d hate him for it. Diego stood and stretched before glancing back down at her, trying to remember if the bed in the guest bedroom across the hall from his was made up.

  My mate, my bed. The instinct pounded in his brain, too insistent to ignore.

  Diego bit back a groan. He definitely should not do this. Keeping her here was the height of folly. If he’d been afraid of what she would think if she’d woken alone and handcuffed to a strange bed, why would he even consider letting her wake up wrapped in his arms?

  In the end, instinct won out over good sense. Diego kicked off his boots and dropped his shirt on the floor, keeping the jeans on despite his body’s protests, before sliding into bed beside her and cautiously reaching for her.

  Sian sighed in her sleep when his hand touched her and stunned him by rolling into his embrace. Diego hardly dared to breathe, praying she wouldn’t wake up even as a wild, wicked part of him longed to wake her himself. She shifted closer, resting her head on his shoulder, and murmured something unintelligible before relaxing in his arms.

  Diego stroked her hair and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the tight confinement of his jeans, and prayed for sleep. If only she would trust him like this when she was awake.

  He finally drifted off as the sky lightened with the dawn. His last thought was a fervent hope she wouldn’t awaken before sunset.

  * * *

  Sian floated gently back to consciousness, fighting it every step of the way. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well, warm and perfectly comfortable and steeped in a feeling of complete peace and safety she hadn’t felt since childhood.

  But wakefulness was winning the fight and she sighed, treating herself to a long, slow stretch. She froze when she identified the heavy warmth around her waist as a very muscular arm and her eyes flew open.

  Diego’s face filled her vision.

  Instantly fully awake, she drew in a breath to demand he release her when she belatedly realized he was still deeply asleep. He hadn’t even twitched when she’d woken and those hypnotic green eyes were closed. She stared, stunned at how peaceful he looked in sleep, and she imagined this was how he’d looked as a little boy. Her eyes traveled slowly down to find him bare-chested again and her breath caught. Dear Lord, but the man had a gorgeous body, and right now he was pressed close enough for her to appreciate every inch of it.

  The roughness of denim whispered over her legs as Sian carefully disentangled herself from his embrace. Relief mixed with a strange disappointment at discovering he’d kept his jeans on. She was embarrassed that her arms had been around him, too—she’d been holding him close in her sleep. She couldn’t believe it. She’d never been a snuggler in her life, but she’d just had the most restful, peaceful sleep of her life while draped all over a man who was practically a stranger to her.

  She eased away from him, watching his face carefully the entire time and praying he wouldn’t wake up. Sian grabbed a pillow and shoved it beneath his arm as she slipped out from under it, not expecting it to fool him if he reached out to search for her but hoping nonetheless. It apparently worked, though, because he still didn’t move a muscle. Sian breathed a silent sigh of relief and tiptoed toward the door.

  Only when she was out in the hall and walking normally did Sian notice that her feet, which had been aching miserably last night, no longer hurt at all. She leaned against the wall and lifted her foot to look at the sole. It was pristine, completely unmarked, but she knew for a fact it had been scratched up and bruised last night. Her sprained ankle didn’t give even a twinge when she put her weight on it. She remembered how Diego had healed the burns on her palms and shivered. It was impossible for him to heal her like that—wasn’t it?

  What kind of man had the power to heal with a breath?

  Pushing those disturbing thoughts out of her mind, Sian silently tiptoed down the stairs, but she froze when she saw the big blond man who’d tried to keep her from leaving the night before waiting at the bottom.

  He looked up at her and sighed. “Come on down, I’m not going to do anything to you,” he said, crossing his arms and looking greatly put-upon. “Diego would have my head if I even tried to touch you. I was about to make something to eat anyway.”

  Sian blinked at him. “Diego told you not to touch me?”

  He gave a snort that might have been laughter and turned toward another doorway. “He doesn’t need to tell me,” he said, and when she followed him she found he’d led her into an enormous kitchen. “You’re his bondmate. Any man who touches you is taking his life in his hands.”

  Sian stopped in the doorway, hesitant to get within reach of this man even though her gut instincts were still insisting he wasn’t a threat. “You’re not going to start with this mate thing, too, are you?” she asked wearily. “I’ve had about all I can stand of that nonsense.”

  He snorted again and took down a pan from the rack hanging from the ceiling. “Well, brace yourself, because I can guarantee it’s not going away.” He put the pan on the stove and turned to look at her again. “Look, you don’t have to stand the
re looking at me like I’m a psycho killer,” he said. “I work for Diego, so technically I guess I now work for you too, unless you try to hit me again. I’m James, Diego’s Steward. How do you like your eggs? Please say scrambled because that’s all I can make.”

  Sian edged into the room and sat down on the nearest barstool at the large center island. “What’s a Steward?”

  James pulled out a carton of eggs and started cracking them into a bowl. “A vampire’s mortal servant and general gofer,” he replied. He shot her a glance when she made a choked sound. “Oh, right, I forgot. Diego said you don’t believe in vampires.” The thought seemed to amuse him greatly.

  “Of course I don’t believe in vampires,” Sian retorted automatically, trying to forget the nightmare she’d had of Diego with cat-like eyes and fangs and the way he’d healed her palms and feet. Something deep inside her tried to speak up with an opinion on the subject and she persistently ignored it. “I like a good vampire movie as much as the next person, but they’re not real.”

  Oh yeah? the little inner voice murmured.

  Shut up, she told it sternly. I refuse to be delusional before breakfast.

  James laughed as he beat the eggs with a fork. “You want proof? Go wake Diego up,” he said, turning on the fire under the pan. “On second thought, don’t. Vampires really don’t like getting woken up during the day and I’m sure he’d be very ticked if he found out I sent you up there to bother him.”

  Sian rolled her eyes. Apparently James had no problems being delusional on an empty stomach. “How long have you worked for Diego?” she asked, determined to turn the subject to something saner. It was hard to picture this man in any kind of menial role. At six feet tall and with broad shoulders and muscles to spare, he looked like he was no one’s servant but his own.

  “Officially, a little over five years now,” he said as he sprinkled shredded cheese into the pan. Sian’s stomach rumbled at the aroma coming from the stove. “But I’ve known him all my life. My father worked for him before me, and my grandfather too, and on down the line for several hundred years. You could say Diego’s a family tradition—or a particularly lively heirloom.” He glanced back at her. “If you’re feeling useful, there’s bread over there for toast.”