Hunted_The Guardians' League Book One

by Amelia Elias

He had to be kidding. Sian followed him up the stairs, trying to catch up and snatch one of the bags out of his hands, but James was fast. Her gasp of outrage when she saw him push open Diego’s bedroom door made him laugh again. She followed him inside, hands planted on her hips. James dumped the bags on the bed and turned to leave but she blocked the door. “I am not staying in his bedroom!” she hissed.

  He merely shrugged, stepping past her and heading out the door. “This one isn’t open to debate, my lady.”

  Sian ground her teeth and drew in a breath for a scathing put-down but James closed the door behind him, cutting her off. She glared for a moment, wishing she’d hit him harder back when she’d escaped the first time.

  Finally she glanced back at the bags and sighed. Regardless of how little she wanted to be stuck in Diego’s room, she was very grateful at the prospect of putting on some real clothes at last. She looked at the open door to the bathroom and literally ached for a shower.

  She up-ended the bags on the bed and searched through the pile of clothes, snagging a button-up blouse in her favorite shade of blue and digging around in search of some jeans. She frowned, not finding anything but skirts. Was James one of those old-fashioned guys who thought women in pants were unfeminine? Somehow it didn’t fit what she knew of it, but after few minutes of searching, she gave up and pulled out a khaki skirt. It wasn’t anything she would’ve bought for herself but at this point fashion was the least of her concerns. All she wanted was to be clean.

  Sian tossed her new clothes on the counter and locked the bathroom door behind her. She carefully set her mother’s twisted rings on the counter before she dropped Diego’s shirt on the floor and peeled off her bra and panties, hesitating only a moment before turning to the sink and hand-washing them with a squirt of shampoo. It wasn’t exactly the recommended detergent for silk but there was no way she could stand to wear them a minute longer without washing them. Besides, she’d given James all her sizes. Surely he’d gotten her something decent to wear while these dried. She hung the lingerie off the towel rack and turned on the shower, cranking the hot faucet to maximum.

  She lingered under the spray, lathering her hair twice and trying not to notice how the sandalwood scent of the shampoo reminded her of Diego. The crisp scent of his soap reminded her of waking up in his arms and she breathed deeply, remembering. Annoyed at herself for it, Sian rinsed briskly and turned off the water, already feeling exponentially better.

  She wrapped one thick towel around her body and another turban-style around her hair before reaching nervously for the doorknob. She hadn’t thought to grab a bra or panties out of the mess on the bed before coming in here, so desperate had she been for a shower, and she hesitated to walk out wearing nothing but a towel.

  A quick peek confirmed the room was just as she’d left it. Sian sighed in relief and stepped out an instant before the bedroom door opened and she came face-to-face with Diego.

  They both froze. Diego’s gaze went slowly over her, sending a blush over her entire body. His eyes darkened as he took a slow, deep breath that drew her gaze to his still-bare chest. The black panther on his biceps jumped as he clenched his fists. She couldn’t stop herself from following the tapering line of the dark hairs sprinkled over his tense muscles down to the waistband of those jeans. Unbidden came the image of following the same path with her hands, her lips. Sian clutched the towel between her breasts, attempting to convince herself her own pulse hadn’t just kicked into high gear. She tried desperately to make her feet move or think of anything to say.

  Diego finally closed his eyes and turned his back, bracing a hand against the doorframe. “I came to see if there was anything you needed,” he said in a low tone that skittered along her nerves like liquid heat.

  Sian swallowed with an audible click. Turning around might have been the gentlemanly thing to do, but the view of Diego from behind was every bit as distracting as it had been from the front. His broad shoulders rippled with muscle when he released the doorframe and jammed his hands into his pockets. Those shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist and lean hips, his tight rear now even more defined because shoving his hands in his pockets had drawn his jeans almost skin-tight. She was suddenly hyperaware of the huge bed dominating the room.

  He half turned his head, not looking back at her but giving her a glimpse of a profile that could make an angel weep with jealousy. “Well, do you have what you need?” he asked, and for a moment she couldn’t think of any answer that didn’t involve him and his enormous bed.

  She tore her eyes away and tried desperately to find her voice. “Um, I think so,” she mumbled, finally remembering her forgotten modesty, and hurried back into the bathroom. The sight of her lingerie hanging from the towel rack made her blush again and she quickly adjusted the towel on the rod above them, hiding them from view. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

  She heard the bedroom door close after a moment and dared another peek out, her heart still pounding. The room was empty again. Ignoring the strange feeling in her chest that felt almost like disappointment, Sian went to the bed and started going through the clothes again, this time trying to arrange them into some sort of order so she could see what she had.

  James had assembled a decent collection for her. She had five or six blouses, most a clingy sort of material she rarely bought, and several skirts in different colors. There were several pairs of shoes ranging from comfortable looking flats to a pair of three inch spike heels that made her wince just to look at them. She found a package of socks, a short lavender satin nightgown and a matching robe, a new hairbrush and toothbrush and assorted toiletries.

  She bit her lip, frowning. There was no lingerie.

  Finally she spotted a smaller bag that had apparently fallen to the floor when she’d dumped everything out. She picked it up and tipped it onto the bed beside her now-neat stacks of clothes.

  Her jaw dropped. Out came three bras, each flimsier and sexier than the last, and each with its own matching thong. Sian gaped, utterly taken aback as she stared at the altogether too-small heap of lace. “Good Lord,” she whispered, lifting one bra by the strap and checking the tag. No way would this tiny scrap cover her. James had to have picked the wrong size.

  At the thought, her mouth shut with a snap and she blushed all over again. She didn’t even want to imagine a stranger, a strange man at that, choosing such sexy things for her. How dare he? Her hands shaking with anger, she chose the most modest of them—a fire-engine red bra that barely covered her nipples while still managing to make her cleavage look deep enough to drown in—and put it on with sharp jerks before pulling the blue blouse she’d grabbed earlier on over it. She lifted the matching thong and looked at it for a moment before throwing it back down.

  She hated thongs. She’d rather go bare than walk around with a string up her butt. There was no way in hell she was wearing that thing.

  She pulled on the khaki skirt, shivering as the material slid over her bare skin. The thought of Diego came unbidden and she shoved it away, even angrier. Had he put James up to this? She shoved her feet into a pair of flats and turned toward the door, ready to storm downstairs and go to war.

  One glance in the mirror made her hesitate. The blouse, which looked modest in her hand, was anything but modest when on. Combined with the cleavage-enhancing bra, Sian’s breasts looked ready to tumble out with every breath she took and the top button seemed in serious danger of bursting free. Her golden hair was still damp from the shower and fell around her shoulders in chaotic waves. The skirt rode low on her hips, exposing a sliver of skin at her waist and clinging in a way that made every move look like a come-on.

  She’d never looked sexier in her life, and it made her furious.

  Well, there was nothing in the pile that was any better. She’d already chosen what she thought were the most modest clothes in there. Sian squared her shoulders and jerked the door open, hoping she found James before she saw Diego.

  * * *

  Di
ego hardly paid any attention to where he was going as he went back downstairs, his mind filled with the memory of Sian standing in his bedroom wearing a completely inadequate towel over a lot of wet, bare skin. He’d had to turn away before she saw his eyes change and his fangs come out with the hot surge of lust. Seeing her like that had awoken the wild, untamed side of his nature and he still fought to contain it again.

  It didn’t want to be contained, it wanted Sian. The woman was built like a goddess. Diego’s mouth went dry as he wondered if she was still as he’d left her—short towel skimming over lush curves, tiny droplets of moisture still clinging to her skin, her legs bare all the way past mid-thigh. He swallowed hard, biting back a groan. Those legs had been bare a lot further up than that. He’d never been more jealous of anything in his life than he’d been of that lucky towel.

  The temptation to turn around and snatch it away from her damp body still pounded through his brain.

  Diego found himself in the den again with no idea whatsoever how he’d come to be there. He threw himself down on the couch and rubbed his eyes as though he could wipe Sian’s too-tempting memory from them.

  “So, how’s married life treating you?”

  Diego cursed and spun around, back on his feet in an instant. Eli lounged behind his desk, his feet propped up on the mahogany surface and a grin on his face.

  “Have you ever heard of knocking?” Diego growled, striding over and reaching out to knock the other vampire’s feet off the desk. “And get your damn feet off my desk. That’s an antique, not that you care.”

  Eli grinned and dropped his boots to the floor before Diego touched him. “I’m an antique, too. Maybe I should worry about it scuffing me.”

  “I’m more than tempted to scuff you myself. What do you want?”

  Eli didn’t seem phased in the least by Diego’s bad mood. “Cranky, aren’t you? I expected you to be happily creating little Leonides heirs right now—unless you’ve already got one on the way. It’s been, what, three nights now? More than enough time.”

  Diego scowled. “Two, and I don’t perform on command for you, Eli.” He instantly wished he hadn’t risen to the bait when Eli laughed.

  “Never thought I’d see the day when your legendary charm failed,” he commented through an infuriating grin. “You were quite the ladies’ man once, Diego. Surely your self-imposed avoidance of women this last century hasn’t made you lose your touch completely.”

  Diego’s frustration edged higher and he held onto his temper with both hands. “Is there a reason you’re here or have you come to torment me some more?”

  Eli stood with the lazy grace of a natural predator. “I thought you might like to know who trashed your mate’s apartment,” he said with studied casualness. He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and tossed something to Diego.

  He caught it out of reflex. It was an unmarked CD. He held it up and looked questioningly at Eli. “What’s this?”

  “All the help I’m giving you,” Eli replied, already heading for the door. “Don’t bother showing me out. I know the way.”

  Diego made a face at his back as he left. He knew it was childish but sometimes Eli absolutely infuriated him. There was no one he’d rather have at his back in a fight, but right now he was more than tempted to send Eli on his way with a good, swift kick in the rear.

  Not that Eli would let him. He’d never seen anyone lay a hand on Eli, in battle or in any other way. He was fast as a cat and twice as mysterious.

  Diego sighed and glanced back at the disk in his hand. Mysterious and annoying he might be, but Eli never did anything without a reason. He took Eli’s vacated place behind the desk and plugged the CD into his computer, waiting impatiently as it loaded.

  The screen blanked only to be filled a moment later with a scanned newspaper clipping. He frowned at the photo of a younger-looking Sian striding down the steps of what looked like a courthouse, her head held high despite the crush of reporters around her. Uniformed policemen surrounded her and an older man, perhaps a lawyer, held her elbow. Diego leaned forward and read, his frown deepening with every line.

  “The jury returned a verdict of guilty today against Enrique Santonyo, a well-known Savannah businessman,” the story read. “Santonyo is convicted of the murder of Mayor Kay Tripsan last October. He was also found guilty of the lesser charges of kidnapping, conspiracy to commit murder and drug trafficking. The state’s case against Santonyo hinged on the testimony of Officer Sian Lazuro of the Savannah Police Department, who witnessed the slaying while off-duty.

  “But only hours after the verdict was handed down, Santonyo escaped from the Savannah jail and is still at large. Police remain closed-mouthed about his disappearance although there is speculation that Santonyo had inside help in his escape.

  “Judge Greene stated the sentencing phase of the trial will take place as planned despite Santonyo’s disappearance. Officer Lazuro declined to comment on rumors that she has left the Savannah police force and gave no statement when asked about Santonyo’s escape.”

  There was more, but Diego couldn’t read it. He stared at the picture of Sian on the courthouse steps, her jaw tight and her eyes unreadable, her spine straight despite the danger she must have known she was in when this man escaped.

  His blood boiled as he imagined this killer in her apartment, slashing the bed where she’d rested, shredding the clothes that had once caressed her body, destroying the photograph and rings that were all she had of her family. The thought of what Santonyo would have done to Sian had she been there made Diego shake with fury.

  This man would pay. Diego would make sure of it.

  A noise in the doorway caught his attention and Diego looked up to see Sian standing there. The towel had been replaced by a short khaki skirt and a blouse the exact shade of her eyes, both snug enough to make his mouth water. He quickly blanked the screen and motioned her inside, wondering at her uncertain and clearly uncomfortable expression and trying to keep his own from betraying his anger and desire. “Come in, sit,” he invited, standing and gesturing at the couch.

  She shifted from one foot to the other and didn’t come any closer. “I was looking for James,” she said, not meeting his eye and blushing.

  Diego raised an eyebrow and left the desk, wanting to get a closer look at her delicious outfit. “He’s gone out for the evening,” he said, wondering where that blush had come from and trying not to notice how good it looked on her. “What do you need, Sian? Tell me and I’ll take care of it.”

  Her blush deepened and the rush of hot blood called to the hungry vampire in him, reminding him he hadn’t fed tonight. Diego pushed the need down, ignoring the ache in his mouth from the fangs he refused to let show.

  “Never mind,” Sian muttered, starting to turn away.

  Diego reached for her before he could help himself, crossing the remaining distance between in three strides. She jumped when he caught her hand but he didn’t let her go when she tried to pull it away.

  “Tell me what you need,” Diego said, cupping her cheek in his other hand and tilting her face up until she met his eyes. “Taking care of you is my job, not his.”

  Sian pulled away again. “I’m not anyone’s job and I certainly don’t need anyone to take care of me,” she said with a hint of her old temper, and Diego smiled. She glared at him and finally managed to free her hand, crossing her arms over her chest. He tried his best not to stare at what the movement did to her already mind-blowing cleavage.

  “Oh, fine,” she snapped as though he’d insisted she tell him what was on her mind. “If you must know, he didn’t get me certain necessities. Well, he got them, but they’re completely wrong. I mean, they’re the right size and all, but they’re not—I mean, I can’t use them. Okay?”

  Diego raised an eyebrow. In the time she’d been with him she’d been angry, confused, frightened and upset, but never had she been reduced to gibberish. “You want to run that past me again?” he asked, keeping the laught
er from his voice with an effort.

  It must have shown in his eyes, though, because she glared at him again even as her blush deepened further. “Forget it,” she said, spinning on her heel to walk out.

  He gave in to the urge to slide his arm around her waist, stopping her in her tracks. “Whatever you need, I’ll get for you,” he said, closing his eyes as he inhaled the intoxicating aroma of her warm skin and his soap. There was something almost unbearably arousing about the knowledge that she’d used his shower. “Tell me what you need, Sian.”

  “I need you to let me go,” she said, but he didn’t miss the breathlessness of her voice.

  It was as good as an invitation. Diego drew her closer until her back pressed against his chest. He ran his free hand down her hip, loving the way the skirt clung to her curves and aching to slide his hand up under it. He bent and nuzzled her still-damp hair, savoring his scent on her, marking her as his. It was a primal instinct he had no desire to fight.

  “Where would you go if I did?” he asked, his voice a low purr behind her ear. “There’s no place on Earth you’ll be safer than where you are right now. And you certainly didn’t seem to mind me holding you a few hours ago.”

  Sian stiffened in his arms but didn’t pull away. “I had nothing to do with that,” she protested. “I was asleep and you took advantage—”

  His mouth found the side of her throat and her voice cut off as though he’d hit a switch. Diego smiled against her skin and nuzzled her ear again. “Querida, you snuggled up to me.”

  “I did not!”

  He laughed and ran his hand over her hip again, enjoying this game she insisted on playing. “Protest your innocence all you want,” he began, but paused when he noticed something. He caressed her hip once more, thinking he had to be mistaken, but there was no mistake.

  This skirt fit her like a second skin, and he’d felt no panty-line.

  Diego instantly went hard as a rock and when she gasped he knew she’d felt it. “Did you forget something when you were dressing, querida?” he asked, fighting the redoubled urge to slide his hands beneath her maddening little skirt and make sure. “I’m not complaining, understand, just curious.”