Her Wild Protector (Paranormal Romance)

by Naomi Bellina

  She pulled out her phone and turned it over in her hands. It wasn’t too late. She could call the cops, run out the back door, find a place to hide…

  A light tapping on the door interrupted her thoughts.

  “Tara, come on out of there. We need to get moving.” Marshall spoke in a low tone. She opened the door and stuck her head around.

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “Come here,” he beckoned, crooking his finger, still using the gentle tone one uses with a frightened animal. She emerged halfway from the bathroom. He took one hand and squeezed it, then gently pulled her all the way out. “I know you’re scared and this is all pretty strange to you. I’m going to do my best to make sure you’re safe. I promise.”

  “Take off your glasses—look me in the eye and tell me that.”

  He removed his shades and stared at her intently. Those gorgeous eyes! She forced herself not to focus on Marshall’s good looks but instead to study him to see if he was telling the truth. Tara liked to think she was good at reading people, but she knew she was far too trusting. Saying “I do” to Karl proved that.

  In Marshall’s eyes she saw sincerity. He truly believed he could protect her and her gut feeling told her to trust him.

  “I will keep you safe,” he said, still holding her hand, and this time the low timbre of his voice stirred feelings deep inside. Her knees wobbled and her heart sped up. A familiar tingle that she hadn’t felt for a long time ran between her legs and heat rose to her cheeks. She ducked her head. She would not let him see the effect he had on her. He would use that to manipulate her, she was certain. Already he’d convinced her to climb into a small tin can and fly to who knows where.

  “This is the best option, believe me. If you stay here you’re in danger,” Marshall said, and still holding her hand, they walked to the airplane. The warmth and pressure of his grip gave her comfort but she pulled away, not wanting to get so drawn into his masculine presence that she couldn’t think clearly. She had a feeling that was easily possible.

  “It’s got blade thingies,” she said when they reached the plane. It seemed even smaller close up.

  “Propellers, we like to call them,”

  “What kind of plane is this?” Still stalling, Tara walked around and kicked one of the tires. It felt solid.

  “It’s a Cessna Conquest. I ride in them all the time—it’s perfectly safe. Hop in.”

  She climbed the steps and looked inside.

  “It’s kind of small.”

  “There’s plenty of room. Grab a seat and buckle up.”

  Tara did so, wiggling around. The chair was roomier and more comfortable than she remembered from her other flights, and there was enough room to stretch her legs. The interior was actually fairly spacious, she noted, now that she was seated. She let out a breath. Claustrophobia wouldn’t be a problem.

  Marshall joined her a few moments later, sitting in the seat across from her.

  “Hang tight, we’ll be in the air shortly. Use this if you feel nauseous.” He handed her a bag.

  Tara gripped her purse as they taxied down the runway. The scenery flew past and suddenly they were in the air. Her stomach lurched and she grabbed the airsick bag Marshall had given her. The droning sound of the engine pulsed and she could feel the plane vibrate.

  She turned to find Marshall watching her, his brow furrowed and a look of concern in his eyes. Damn it, she did not want to get sick. She hated to throw up, despised that burning feeling in her throat. She also found, to her annoyance, she wanted to make a good impression on Marshall. Taking a deep breath, she stole a glance out the window and was instantly distracted. The view was breathtaking! Sunlight sparkled off the water where shades of blue and green blended together to form a colorful mosaic.

  “Wow, the world looks different from up here,” she said.

  Marshall’s face relaxed and he smiled. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? You’re feeling okay?”

  “Yeah, I think I’ll be all right.”

  “I’ll get us club sodas. That will help your stomach.”

  He unfastened his belt and headed to the back of the plane, then returned with two full cups. She took a few sips then put the beverage on the table he’d unfolded between them.

  “You might want to hang on to that. We could hit a few bumps.”

  Tara drained the cup then leaned back.

  “Since we’re going to be together for a while, you can tell me all about the DOSA.”

  “I can’t tell you all about them, but I can tell you a little more.”

  “Hey, what about Tony?” Tara asked. Though he deserved punishment for trying to kill her, she didn’t necessarily want him to die a slow tortuous death from the heat.

  “Someone’s coming for him. He’ll be fine. The stun will wear off soon.”

  “About this mysterious organization…”

  Marshall settled back in his seat and crossed his legs. Tara tried not to let the sight of his powerful, perfectly proportioned body distract her. She needed to know about this group that was able to transform humans into such magnificent yet deadly creatures.

  “DOSA does a little of anything and everything related to supernatural beings. There is more going on in our world than meets the eye, and our organization attempts to keep those mysteries hidden. People don’t need to see what’s beyond their understanding. That’s why we have to find out why you you’re able to suddenly see us Metamorphs.”

  “Why do you get to determine what people need to see? If there are other beings on our world, maybe we should know about them.” Tara had always enjoyed science, mysteries and the paranormal. She was certain other intelligent life-forms existed and kept an open mind about such things.

  “Not if we want to continue to live in peace. Governments in other countries would not be terribly understanding if they knew what we do. More than likely, they would want to use the secrets we’ve uncovered for combat.”

  Tara snorted. “You mean to tell me our own kind and benevolent government has never used you, or any other spooky creature for warlike purposes themselves? I find that hard to believe. Those weapons I saw you fire, they weren’t designed for paintball games.”

  Marshall frowned and Tara saw his hand on the armrest tighten.

  “There is always going to be an element of danger when dealing with the unknown. We prefer to be prepared.”

  “The unknown. What other kinds of supernatural beings are there?” Tara asked. “Ones like we see in the movies?”

  “I can’t tell you anything more specific. Everything we do isn’t dangerous, though. In fact, DOSA was originally formed when our founder discovered a new species of intelligent plant life underwater.”

  “I think some of those plants might be my coworkers. So, how did one of your mad scientists come up with the idea for Metamorphs?”

  The frown disappeared and his eyes brightened a shade. “It’s a long story and I’m going to have to say it again—I can’t give you details. One extraordinarily brilliant man found a way to manipulate DNA and produce beings like myself, men and women capable of using all of our body and mind’s capacity.”

  “So you can change to a blue light form and an animal. Only one animal?”

  “Yes, I’ve only been programmed as one. Others can assume more than one form.”

  “You still haven’t told me what exactly Metamorphs do.”

  “Most of us are used for security purposes right now. There are plans in the works for us to assume roles as diplomats in foreign countries.”

  Tara pursed her lips. “This still all sounds like military operations to me.”

  “It’s not.” His eyes hooded again, and sensing she had hit a nerve, she decided it might be a good idea to steer to another subject.

  “Tell me what you do for DOSA.”

  An actual smile appeared on his face and he leaned back in his seat.

  “Right now, I’m working as a quality-control specialist. That’s a nice, ambiguous titl
e for a job that allows me to observe activity at the port.”

  “Looking for what? That’s not a military base. There’s nothing secretive going on out there. Is there?”

  “Port Canaveral is the fastest-growing cruise port in Florida. Other countries have established a presence there and we need to monitor their activities.”

  “There aren’t any foreign companies doing business at the port.”

  “Not obviously, no, but they are there. That’s my job, to find them and watch what they’re up to.”

  “So, you’re a spy?”

  “No, I’m a surveillance specialist, observing the actions of potentially harmful undercover agents…”

  “Oh, you’re spying on the spies. What exactly—”

  Marshall held up his hand. “No more questions about my work.”

  Tara was rather surprised that he’d revealed this much and actually seemed to enjoy talking to her and telling her about DOSA. He took pride in his duties, she realized, no matter how strange the organization or his role in it was.

  “Okay, then tell me what it’s like to be a Metamorph. What was that thing you did to Annette?”

  “Well, as you know, I can become an energy form when I need to, the blue light. I sent a surge of power to her.”

  “When you kissed her.”

  “Yes, when I kissed her.”

  “Is that what killed her?”

  Marshall shifted in his seat. “Yes. She was dead before she crashed. She didn’t suffer.”

  “What if she had taken someone else out with her car?” Tara recalled the twisted pile of metal and a chill went down her spine.

  “I programmed her vehicle to travel in a straight line then to veer off into that light pole.” Marshall folded the table between them.

  “We won’t be in the air much longer. There are magazines to read in that compartment over there. I’m going up front to talk with the pilot.”

  “Can I walk around the plane?”

  “Yes, but be careful—it can get rough.”

  Tara stood, and to emphasize his words the plane bumped suddenly. Tara lost her balance and fell onto Marshall. He put up his hands to steady her, gripping her waist. She was suddenly inches away from him.

  As before when they touched, a shiver ran through her. A sudden desire to move closer, to press her body into his, overcame her. He smelled liked wind and fire and radiated power and barely tamed raw energy.

  “What kind of animal are you?” she asked, looking into his extraordinary eyes. The flecks of gold deepened and his pupils turned to black pools. She wanted to dive into them and not come up for air. He held her gaze for a moment, then eased her body away.

  “A dangerous one.”

  Marshall turned and strode toward the front of the plane. Tara plunked down into her seat, leaned back and closed her eyes. Her analytical accountant’s mind sorted through the information she’d been given and tried to make sense of it. A government agency that worked with paranormal elements. That wasn’t so shocking. That they chose to take that technology and use their creations for military purposes did not surprise her one bit, either. The military segment of the government had a huge budget, enough to fund research of this caliber.

  Their experiments weren’t perfected, obviously, if they’d produced a man like Denzel. If what Marshall said was true, there was a flaw somewhere in the process.

  While the logical side of her brain wanted to sort information, the other side of her brain was irresistibly drawn to thoughts of Marshall. Even though he was nowhere near, her heart pounded madly, as though he were still only inches away. The effect he had on her was unsettling. Could that be a Metamorph characteristic? Maybe they’d enhanced him with extra pheromones, designed to drive women crazy. Whatever it was, she resolved to keep her wits about her and not be taken in by his sensual aura.

  That story about his family. He might have made the whole thing up to get her to cooperate, but she didn’t think so. She’d caught glimpses of his face when he was engrossed in the work of hanging her door and knew it had cost him to share his past with her. She sensed he saw his youth as a time of weakness and didn’t want her or anyone to pity him.

  She didn’t. Tara admired people who pulled themselves out of difficult situations and overcame trials. It was one reason she never let herself get too down. She refused to be a pathetic woman, one whom others felt sorry for.

  Grabbing a magazine, Tara attempted to distract herself for a few moments. Whatever else happened, she had the feeling her life was not going to be the same after today. It might be a good idea to rest while she could.

  True to his word, they weren’t in the air for long. The landing was bouncier than Tara remembered on a commercial plane. Marshall kept an eye on her and Tara kept a grip on the armrests, ready to bail out the door if necessary, but they coasted to a stop without incident.

  “Where are we?” Tara asked as they descended the stairs. She looked around the runway. Deep blue ocean was on one side and a small cluster of buildings on the other. Palm trees swayed in the breeze and the smell of salt air and flowers combined to produce a deliciously aromatic scent. Though she lived in a subtropical area, there was nothing quite like being on an island surrounded by ocean. If someone could package that smell, it would be vacation in a bottle.

  “We’re on Eleuthera, but don’t get comfortable—we’re going to the marina, then taking a boat to another island.”

  “A boat?” Tara stopped walking.

  Marshall turned around. “Yes, a boat. It’s like the plane only it goes slower, on water. Come on, they’re waiting for us.”

  “I don’t really do boats,” Tara said, still not moving.

  “You do when you’re in a chain of islands and that’s the only way to get around. You were fine on that plane—the boat will be a breeze.”

  “I get seasick.”

  “Then you’ll just have to throw up.” Marshall resumed his stride.

  She knew he was getting impatient with her, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t asked to be thrown on this island, and wanted to suggest they get back on the airplane and travel to their next destination. The look on his face, however, suggested he was not in the mood to argue, so she picked up her suitcase and trotted after him.

  “How can you live in Florida and not get on a boat now and then?” Marshall asked, grabbing her suitcase and handing it to the captain. The craft rocked gently and a shudder ran through Tara. The few times she’d been on a vessel had not gone well. Granted, the boats were smaller, but she still recalled with dread the queasy feeling that overcame her.

  “I don’t get out much.” That sounded lame even to her. The area around her home was beautiful and there were so many things to see and do. It was ridiculous to live like she had been, dragging her butt out of bed to go to work and staying home most of the rest of the time. She knew she had no one to blame but herself for her hermitlike existence. If she broadened her horizons a bit more there were plenty of opportunities to enjoy Florida, even without getting in a boat.

  Marshall climbed aboard and held out a hand for her. She grasped it reluctantly and clambered onto the deck.

  “Have a seat here. We won’t be on the water long. Try to relax and enjoy the scenery,” Marshall said, then headed to the front to talk to the captain.

  The view really was gorgeous, Tara had to admit. Crystal-clear blue water surrounded them and a warm breeze blew, carrying the salty tang of the ocean. There were only a few puffy clouds drifting in a clear sky. It was a lovely day for a boat ride.

  Until they actually got going. The craft bounced up and down a few times and Tara remembered why she never got on the water.

  “Give me that bag!” She gestured frantically.

  Marshall handed it to her and she bent over, retching into the opening. Thankful she’d only eaten the apple she’d snagged from her house, Tara gratefully took the bottle of water he pressed into her hand.

  “Spit over the side of the boat. Don�
��t worry, I’ve seen girls spit and even vomit before.”

  Utterly humiliated but too miserable to care, Tara rinsed and spewed, then took a long drink of the water.

  “Here, put these on. I got them from the captain.” Marshall handed her a pair of colorful bracelets.

  “You want me to wear jewelry? You think fashion accessories are going to make me feel better?”

  “They’re acupressure wristbands. They help control nausea. Hang with me, we’re almost there.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze.

  Tara dutifully put them on, and her stomach calmed a bit.

  “Where exactly is this island you’re dragging me to and why didn’t we just take the airplane there?”

  “It’s a private island—there is no landing strip.”

  A ripple of unease that had nothing to do with her queasy stomach rolled over Tara.

  “Private? How private? Who else is on this island?”

  “A caretaker couple lives there most of the year. Our physician will be along later today to examine you.”

  “That’s all? No other people?” The boat lurched again and Tara turned to lean over the side but the wave of seasickness passed.

  “Better?” Marshall asked.

  “I think so.”

  He moved back up front to talk to the captain. Tara watched Eleuthera recede in the distance, fear and nausea competing for spots in her stomach.

  * * *

  The trip was mercifully short. Tara watched as they approached the small island, almost ready to leap from the boat and swim the rest of the way in. The captain reduced the speed as they got nearer.

  “Why is he slowing down?” she asked Marshall.

  “I always have them do that when we come in near land. There are a lot of marine animals that stay close to the shore. I don’t want to hurt them,” he said, almost too quietly for her to hear. He kept his gaze forward and didn’t look at Tara, almost as though he were embarrassed by his admission. Queasy though she was, Tara’s curiosity was piqued. “Is that what kind of animal you become? Are you a manatee? A stingray? That would be cool.”