by Lowe, Anna
“Nice. Fine.” Then his face fell. “Actually, no. I was called away to a meeting.”
“Didn’t go well, huh?” she asked, remembering something about a demanding boss.
The shine went out of his cheeks, and his eyes dulled. “Not so well,” he admitted, then brightened. “Not as nice as meeting you.”
For a moment, they stood there, grinning at each other like fools. Then a bus rattled by, making Gemma jolt and check her watch.
“Shoot. I have to get back to work.”
“I’ll walk you,” Liam said with an eager, puppy-dog look.
And off they went, with Gemma’s mind spinning. Was Liam a creepy stalker, or was he as sweet as he seemed?
“What are you doing in Notting Hill?” she asked, testing him.
He ran a hand through his hair, distracting her in a wildly wicked way.
“Just…er…shopping.”
She halted, sticking her hands on her hips. “Shopping?”
He drooped, then took a deep breath. “No. I came to…to…”
The previous day, he’d been the picture of confidence and certainty. Now, something was eating at him. What?
She stirred the air with her hand, prompting him along.
He gulped. “To find you.”
Coming from another man, those words might have rattled her. But somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to be suspicious of Liam. His eyes were too clear, his expression too honest.
“Why?”
“Because of that man. In the Underground. He hasn’t turned up again, has he?”
“No, but you’ve turned up,” she pointed out.
He winced and ran a hand through that beautiful mane of golden hair. “I suppose I have. But I swear, I’m not stalking you.”
“Then what are you doing?”
His shoulders straightened, and he went back to that invincible warrior look. “Protecting you.”
“Protecting me. From what, exactly?” When he hesitated, she went on. “The truth, Liam. No bullshit.”
They’d stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and after a pause, he pulled her aside to a gate to a private garden, overhung by leaves and vines. There, he stalled, shifting from foot to foot.
“What if you don’t like the truth? What if you don’t believe it?”
Her stomach sank. That didn’t sound promising.
Still, she tapped her foot and crossed her arms. “Try me.”
He studied her for a minute before speaking. “That man in the Underground — I can’t be sure, but I think he may belong to the Lombardi clan. Trouble, in other words.”
Gemma’s eyebrows shot up. “Sounds very mafia-like.”
“Worse than mafia, if he really is a Lombardi.”
“And if he is?”
“Then your life is in danger.”
She paled at that echo of her father’s worries but made sure to keep her voice a steady monotone. “My life is in danger.”
Liam nodded quickly.
“And I need you to protect me,” she went on slowly.
Liam’s chin jerked up and down. “You do.”
“Because that man was a criminal?”
Now, Liam looked really uncomfortable. “I suppose you could call him that.”
Gemma snorted, losing patience. “What would you call him? Exactly, I mean? What’s the danger? And how can you be so sure?”
Liam wavered for a moment. “The truth?”
She jerked her head in the most commanding nod she could muster. “Yes, Liam. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
Liam shot a covert glance down the street then leaned closer. “Because he’s a dragon. A dragon shifter, I mean.”
She stared. This was not happening.
But Liam sputtered on. “I think he could be after you because of your royal blood.”
Gemma’s jaw swung open. God, not this again. She’d heard the same crazy warnings from her father again and again.
Then it hit her. “Have you been talking to my father?”
Liam looked at her like she was the crazy one. “No. Wait. Your father knows? Hardly any humans do.”
Gemma blinked. “Humans? As opposed to…?”
“Shifters,” Liam said, all matter-of-fact.
“Dragon shifters?”
“And other types.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Other supernaturals?”
Liam nodded so earnestly, it broke her heart. Then he frowned. “What?”
He was so eager, so innocent. Speaking the truth, at least, as he saw it.
Gemma slumped back against the gate, closing her eyes. She should have known Liam was too good to be true. Handsome, honorable, determined to help…and as batty as her father.
She opened her eyes again, determined not to get mad. The poor man needed help, not a yelling-at.
“Sure. Dragons. Danger. Royal blood.”
Liam’s hopeful expression faded. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
Gemma pursed her lips, trying to let him down gently. Mental illness came in all shapes and sizes. What a pity, though, that this case had struck someone who was so together in every other way.
She shook her head a teensy, tiny bit. “Sorry. No.” Then she checked her watch again. She really had to get back to work.
Liam looked at his feet. “Of course, you don’t believe me.”
A long, awkward moment ticked by, and she wondered if she’d done the wrong thing. Who knew what rejection might do to his fragile state of mind?
Then Liam brightened. “Can I still protect you, though?”
She stared. Was he serious?
He was, and she knew the answer should be no. A big, insistent no. A woman had to watch for danger at all times.
But, dammit, people with mental illnesses shouldn’t be ostracized. They needed help. And besides, she couldn’t believe he was dangerous. Not to her. He was so sweet. So kind. So…so…deluded.
She slumped. God, she didn’t have the heart. And, hey. There could be an advantage to having a big, handsome — er, powerful — man around, even if he was a little crazy. So she took a deep breath and started walking again. Fast.
“Fine. You can protect me.”
Liam jumped into step beside her, looking pleased as punch.
She stuck out a finger. “But no stalking. No pestering. No weird stuff, you got it? When I tell you no, I mean it.”
He stuck his hands up, smiling again. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll just keep away the dragons.”
She looked at him, then at the sky, and finally sighed. “Sure. Just the dragons.”
Chapter Five
Liam knew Gemma didn’t believe him. She thought he was crazy, in fact. He could see it written all over her face. But she hadn’t called the police or pushed him away. She had just sighed and walked back to work after one final warning.
“I mean it. No weird stuff. No stalking.”
Gemma could put on a hell of a fierce expression, and the way she held her hands, karate-chop style, showed she meant business too. Which was good. Very good. Any shithead would think twice about bothering her.
On the other hand, even a black belt wouldn’t help Gemma against a dragon, so once she was safely inside the shop, Liam found a spot across the street to stand guard. There, he leaned against a wall and crossed his arms, feeling rather pleased with himself. Not only had he located Gemma, he’d managed to win her trust, and he hadn’t even had to lie. For the first time ever, he had come straight out and told a human about the shifter world. It was refreshing, really, even if she didn’t buy a word.
He hid a smile. It was kind of Gemma not to actually call him mad.
Inside, his lion crooned happily, imagining a dozen different happy endings for himself and his mate.
She loves me. Deep inside, she knows we are mates.
But then his smile faded. That was exactly what the Council wanted. What they’d ordered, even, and that made him sick. Even if he succeeded in winning Ge
mma over, she would be furious when she found out about the Council’s orders. She might think he was only after her as part of a deal.
She’s not a deal! She’s my mate, his lion growled.
He stood on guard all afternoon, thinking it through while studying every passerby for any hint of danger. All in all, it was like some of the guard posts he’d been assigned in the Legion, without the sandbags and mortars. Plus, there was a huge bonus because Gemma would peek out the shop window from time to time, making his soul sing.
He waved to her each time, wishing he could call out, Hello, my mate. Don’t fret. I will keep you safe.
It amazed him how quickly he’d accepted the whole mates thing. But as Sergio had said, when you knew, you just knew, as surely as you knew the shape of your hands, the beat of your heart, or the sound of your own voice.
I know, his lion rumbled.
The next time Gemma peeked out, she wore that annoyed, Are you still there? look. But then a shy smile emerged, and he swore her eyes glowed.
So, yes. She must have shifter ancestry. And yes, she must feel what he felt, too.
She knows we belong together, his lion sighed happily.
Eventually, she gave herself a little shake and remembered to look annoyed, but he knew that was just for show.
And that was how the afternoon went by — with glorious little glimpses of Gemma, and lots of glares at suspicious types in the street. He didn’t bother concealing himself, making damn sure any shifter who happened along would leave Gemma alone. Delivery trucks came and went, tourists snapped photos, and eventually, shopkeepers started locking up. Not long after six, the bell over the map shop door jingled, and Gemma exited, calling goodbye to her boss. Then she stopped, put her hands on her hips, and looked straight at Liam.
Her expression wavered between I can’t believe you’re still here and It’s so nice to see you, and Liam was glad too. Then she spun on her heel and headed down the road. The twisted bun she wore her long, blackish-brown hair in that day bounced as she strode along.
He hurried over and fell into step beside her. “Did you have a good day?”
She threw him an exasperated look. “Yes. No dragons.”
He gave his chest a little pat. “See? It pays to have a bodyguard.”
Too late, she hid the smile and whatever flirty comeback she’d had on the tip of her tongue. “How exactly are you going to protect me against dragons? Are you a knight or something?”
He laughed. “No. Just a lion.”
Her step hitched, but she covered it up. “I see. A lion.”
Boy, she really did think he was crazy. But that was all right. Even liberating, in a way, not having to be constantly on guard against letting the truth slip.
“A lion shifter, actually. We can change back and forth.”
“I see. Your whole family?”
He decided not to go into details, like the fact that his father had been a dragon shifter. “Most of us, anyway.”
“Aha. And how exactly would a lion protect me from a dragon? Dragons can breathe fire, right?”
That was exactly the question he’d been mulling over all afternoon. “The trick will be to keep them on neutral territory where they can’t shift into dragon form. They wouldn’t want to be seen.”
“Oh no. They definitely wouldn’t want to be seen,” she said in that indulgent tone.
He motioned around. “Open streets, the Underground — that should be all right. We’ll have to be careful of wide-open spaces, though.”
She shot him a piteous look, then glanced away again.
“Military training helps too,” he added. “You know, in case it comes to hand-to-hand combat.”
It was a joke, but Gemma looked dead serious. “You were in the British Army?”
“No, the Foreign Legion.”
Her jaw swung open — the usual reaction he got. “Really?”
He nodded. “I was rebelling. You know — not wanting to conform to what the family wants for you.”
Funny how some things don’t change, he almost added.
“Where did you serve?”
“Oh, you know…” He motioned around, summing up thousands of miles and ten years with a wave of his hand. “Mali. Burkina Faso. The Middle East.” He fingered the scar on his abdomen, then brightened. “We also had some joint training operations in Martinique.”
Her expression oozed sorrow, and he could just about read her mind. Gemma probably thought he was suffering from a bizarre case of PTSD in which he transformed human enemies into dragons, lions, and wolves.
He changed the subject. “What about you?”
She shook her head. “I decided against joining the Foreign Legion.”
For a moment, he stared, then burst out laughing. “You got me there.”
She smiled one of those starburst smiles that warmed him from the inside. “No military. I did fence, though.” She swiped a wrist expertly, and he pictured a sword flashing.
“That might come in handy.”
“What? Against dragons — or strange men who follow me around?”
He chuckled. “Touché, fair lady. Touché. Did you fence professionally?”
She burst out laughing. “I wish. There’s not much call for swordplay these days. After college, I focused on work — first for a political campaign, then for an environmental NGO, plus a few side jobs to pay the bills. Then I came here.”
Her face fell, and he wondered exactly what had precipitated that move.
For the next few minutes, they walked in amiable silence, making their way to the Underground, where she led him to the Central line.
“Are you from London?” she ventured once they boarded the subway.
“On the outskirts. Richmond.” He pointed over his shoulder.
She laughed. “You’re sure it’s right there? The Tube does take a lot of turns.”
He nodded and leaned in to whisper. “Felines have a great sense of direction.”
She bit her lip, and that Poor, pathetic you expression clouded her eyes.
“Brothers? Sisters?”
He shook his head. “An only child. But after my parents died, I lived with my cousins, so they feel like siblings. How about you?”
Gemma shook her head. “I’m an only child.” Then she paused. “I’m sorry about your parents. How old were you when…when…”
“When they died? Seven. But it’s all right. I barely remember them.”
His lion grumbled inside. I remember.
Well, he did and he didn’t. Little snatches, mostly, like the sound of his mother’s laugh, or the booming voice his father would call out in when he came home from a midnight flight. He remembered the exhilaration of his father swinging him in circles, saying, Just wait, my lad. Someday, you’ll be able to fly like me.
Liam pursed his lips. Maybe it was a good thing his father hadn’t lived to discover his son could only change into lion form.
He sighed. There were those little snapshot memories, and then there were dreams. Things that hadn’t happened — they couldn’t have happened — but they felt so real. In some dreams, he flew alongside his father, wingtip to wingtip, and watched the world sweep beneath. In other dreams, he could breathe fire, making his mother go, Tsk, tsk. Be careful, my boy.
He dragged himself away from those thoughts — crazy thoughts, because he couldn’t shift into dragon form, and dangerous thoughts, because they stirred emotions he’d locked away for a long time. Also, Gemma was studying him with those wide, sad eyes, probably tracing his unstable mind back to losing his parents so young.
“Sorry,” she murmured, touching his arm.
They were on a rattling subway car surrounded by dozens of strangers, but the contact made him feel as if the two of them were alone, and that nothing in the past mattered. Only the future, which was sure to be sunny and bright, because they would be together. Forever.
Forever, his lion hummed.
Forever, the sparkle in Gemma’s eyes seem
ed to agree.
If an announcement hadn’t blared out — Next stop, Tottenham Court Road — well, hell. They might just have ridden all the way to the end of the line and back before budging from their cozy cocoon.
But budge they did, from the platform of one line to another, followed by another few stops on the Northern line. Eventually, they exited to street level and wound along a couple of curving roads. Liam looked around, wondering where Gemma lived. At the top level of that townhouse near Primrose Hill? Or was she renting one of those cellar apartments, down three stairs from street level?
None of those things, as it turned out. One minute, she was leading him along a perfectly normal street. The next, she turned at a bridge and detoured down a flight of steps to…the towpath along a neglected canal?
“Well, I’m home,” Gemma announced. “Safe and sound.”
He looked around. Nothing but fences and gated gardens. Then he followed her gaze and did a double take. “You live there?”
“Yep,” she said proudly.
“In that?”
She nodded, grinning. “Isn’t it great?”
He rubbed his chin. “It’s a boat.”
“A narrowboat, to be precise. And it has a name.” She pointed at the faded gold lettering across the stern.
“Valhalla?”
“Valhalla. Viking heaven. The owner is away in Mallorca, so I’m house-sitting. Boat-sitting, I guess.”
It looked tiny, run-down, and totally impractical. But Gemma looked delighted.
“I suppose it does have…character,” he tried.
“Where do you live?” Then her face froze, and she waved her hands. “Never mind. I suppose you have a lair somewhere. None of my business.”
He chuckled. What would she say if he told her about his penthouse views over Hyde Park?
“Well, it’s late,” she added.
It was only seven, but it was pretty clear he was being dismissed. Much as he would have liked to stay, the smart thing to do was to give her space.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Once again, Gemma wore an expression that was partly delighted, partly suspicious. “Tomorrow?”
He nodded. “To keep you safe.”
She pursed her lips. “Don’t you have a job you have to get to?”
