by Celia Kyle
Chapter One
“I’m more than willing to fight for what I believe in. I believe in ice cream, and I happen to know kung-fu. So, step away from the freezer before I bust out an ass kicking.” — Maya O’Connell, Prima of the Ridgeville Pride and woman who has a degree in ice cream flavors.
Nothing good ever happened when Maya was giddy. Harding knew that happy meant ice cream. Then again, sad meant ice cream, too. Angry meant yells followed by very loud make up sex with her mate, Alex…and ice cream.
But giddy? He shuddered. Giddy was bad. It accompanied…awesomesauce ideas.
Harding sighed. Unfortunately, it was his day to guard Maya. Since she was the pride’s Prima and mated to their leader, the Prime, he had to follow her around. He had to keep her safe, of course, but he couldn’t rein her in like Alex did.
“Haaarrrdddiiinnnggg!” She yelled his name in a mixture of a scream and a whine.
Great.
Pushing out of the club chair, he rose to his six-foot five-inch height, and followed her voice through the pride house. His boots thumped against the tile in the hallway, his shoulders slumping further with every step. Couldn’t it have been Neal’s day? Or Brute’s? Nah, those two were newly mated and needed to be home with their families. The only two of Maya’s guards unmated were him and Wyatt, and even Wyatt had a human woman for the moment.
It was only Harding who didn’t have much of a life.
Standing out of sight outside the kitchen, he took a deep breath and fought for patience. No telling what was about to happen. Dreading the coming conversation, he stepped into the room—or home-o-frozen-goodness—and found Maya sitting at the table, a carton of ice cream before her and Alex at her side.
God, things just got worse.
Giddy with ice cream and the potential for wild make-up sex. Why did they need him?
“There you are!” A large smile curved Maya’s lips.
“Prima.” Maybe deference would get a little sympathy from Alex. A glance at the Prime revealed that the lion wasn’t about to help him.
Damn it.
Even his inner-lion whimpered at what was to come. Was she rounding up a cavalry again to save someone who didn’t need saving? That had been a fun trip. By the time the guards (including their mates), and Maya and Alex (including their twins, Easton and Weston) had appeared, the fun had been over. Deuce had been saved by his squirrel mate, and Alistair McCain, ex-leader of Freedom, was dead. At the squirrel’s hand, er, gun. Maya had pouted.
Before that, she’d secretly rescued a sweet fox and also given birth. At the same time. On the side of the highway.
And before that…
“Are you even listening?” A glob of ice cream smacked Harding in the face, cold and wet.
He gave Maya his attention while snaring a napkin and wiping his cheek. “No, but I will now.”
Alex snorted.
Maya narrowed her eyes, glaring at him and then her mate. Now, Harding could just get yelled at and sent on home, but Alex…
“Did you just laugh at the Keeper of the Vagina? Queen of Vaginaville and Ruler of all Things Pink Bits Related?” Maya’s lips formed a thin, white line.
The Prime gulped. “Now, Maya…”
The Prima harrumphed and turned back to Harding. “So, the thing about it is…”
Nothing good ever came out of one of her sentences when she started it like that.
“I love you, Maya—” When Alex growled, Harding was quick to amend his statement. “As much as a single lion is allowed to. But can’t you ‘thing about it is’ someone else? Maybe Wyatt?”
Harding enjoyed his nice, boring life. It didn’t involve many others, but that meant there were fewer people who could turn on him. Because everyone did eventually. Maybe not today, but there was always tomorrow. His last pride had taught him all about tomorrow.
Maya gestured at him with her dripping spoon. “Sit and listen before you get too whiny.”
He did as ordered, but grumbled just the same.
“Now, Neal, Brute, and Deuce have mated. That leaves you and Wyatt unattached. But he’s got a human woman he’s been ‘dating.’” She made air quotes, chocolate dripping to the kitchen table. “That leaves you.”
“Okay.” He nodded. It was the same thought he’d had before he walked in.
“Yay!” She clapped and turned to Alex. “See how easy that was? I told you I could get him to agree!” Maya turned back to him. “Now, you need to pack. Probably for at least two weeks since that’s how long it’ll take the movers to get you your stuff. We’ll box up what you need and send it along. If you leave Maddy a list she’ll—”
She kept babbling on and on, his eyes growing wider by the word, until he’d finally had enough. He put two fingers into his mouth and whistled high and long, snaring Maya’s attention and stilling her words.
With her now silent, he looked to Alex. “What is she talking about?”
The Prime’s grin made him want to punch the lion in the face. He resisted the urge. Barely.
“The Council contacted me this morning—”
“Us.” Maya licked her spoon.
Alex rolled his eyes. “Us. And asked for one of our guards to go down to Georgia and relieve Stone. He’s being promoted to Council Liaison, and they need someone trustworthy, someone not too aggressive, but able to protect himself and his territory.”
Based on the Prime’s and Prima’s stares, he’d been elected.
“Define territory.” Stone, a gorilla shifter and Council tracker, had been in Georgia cleaning up a few messes left over by Freedom. Harding hadn’t envied the man.
“A small compound in the mountains. It’s built into the mountain, actually.”
There was more. “Uh-huh. And?”
Maya slipped the spoon from her mouth. “And a few-ish women.”
Thud. That was the other concrete-filled shoe dropping.
“You want me to guard women. Women who were more than likely abused by shifter males who are large and strong and dominant as hell.” Like him. Minus the massive streak of dominance, but still. “Are you insane?” Alex growled, but Harding didn’t give a damn. “Look at me.” He gestured to his face and then his arms. Stark white scars covered his skin, including one that ran from his hairline, over his cheek, and then down along his neck. His uncle had enjoyed inflicting that one. “Do I look like a guy that won’t scare them?”
Alex leveled a look on him, one that was filled with both seriousness and the full weight of his power. “You look like a man who has gone to hell and fought his way back. Your scars show proof of your strength, Harding. You’ve battled your way into the most respected pride’s inner-circle. I trust you with my mate’s life. I trust you with my sons. I know you will protect those women with your life, if necessary.”
Damn it.
* * *
Damn it.
Getting out of bed required preparation. It wasn’t a “toss aside blankets and rise” occasion for Tess McCain. No, first she had to find her center, search for the tiny spark of life that she clung to with all her strength. From there, she traced the small, growing tendrils of hope that still lingered.
The thick walls of her cell—room—kept the worst of the pain at bay while she slept. She didn’t have to protect her mind when she wasn’t conscious. Within this space, instead of screams and shouts invading her slumber, the words were mere whispers. Tess could handle whispers.
Closing her eyes, she sought out her mental bricks. They lay passive within her, squares of imaginary padded steel. When she was younger, it’d been boulders, but they’d always toppled down. Then concrete blocks, but they didn’t muffle the voices enough. Now, it was a metal wall, covered in sound dampening padding. It was a mental trick
, the voices not being real voices at all, but it helped.
At least for now. God help her if she grew stronger.
She stacked chunk after chunk of steel within her, the wall growing with each passing heartbeat until it stretched higher than she could see and as wide as she could imagine. There. She was ready for the day.
Tess rolled from the bed and padded to her small closet. There were more clothes now, more than before. She shuddered. Before. She didn’t want to think about then. There was only today.
Sliding on one of the comfortable sundresses she’d been given, she slipped her feet into a pair of sandals. She spent only minutes in the bathroom, quickly getting ready to leave her room, and then she was out the door.
Mostly.
She paused in the doorway and gave herself a moment to make the transition from silence to a muted roar. Thoughts from the compound’s inhabitants assaulted her. True, they were like tiny pebbles being thrown against her mental mountain, but they existed nonetheless.
Instead of fighting them as she did in her youth, she let them swirl over and within her, accepting their presence. Then the dull throb of their existence settled.
She stepped into the hall and turned left. The kitchen beckoned her, the scent of pancakes and bacon leading her forward. Truly it was the bacon that drew her. Hell, any meat had her drooling. She hated that part of herself, the hint of shifter that had been given to her while she was growing in her mother’s womb.
Bastard.
Tess stopped and pressed a hand to her stomach, the voices pushing into her as if sensing her wavering control. Thinking of Alistair McCain always did that to her. Only his presence disrupted her more. But that wouldn’t be an issue any longer, would it? Another woman had done what Tess could not.
Refocusing on her path, she was in the kitchen in moments. The compound’s new cook moved easily at the stove. She almost snorted. New cook. All of the staff members in the compound were new. The only remnants of Freedom that remained were Tess and four other women who’d been rescued by the Council.
Rescued yet not released.
She understood their reasoning. The other four women had suffered through beatings and rape for years, and they were still emotionally unable to venture past the front door. Tess had only endured the beatings. The benefits of being Alistair’s self-proclaimed “daughter” meant sex was off the table. She shuddered with the thought and pushed it aside.
She padded to the coffee maker and quickly poured herself a cup, desperate for a shot of caffeine before she faced a crowded living room. Already the low hum of the women’s minds reverberated within her.
“Hey, Tess.” The cook’s soothing voice caressed her. Ben was a giant of a man, an elephant that was as gentle as he was large. “Pancakes? Or did Little Debbie and her wonderful world of brownies already feed you?” He pointed a spatula at her. “Brownies are not breakfast food, Tess.”
Ah, Little Debbie, how do I love thee? Since her “rescue”, Stone had introduced her to a plethora of snack foods, and they were amazing. They also added a crap-ton of pounds to her ass, but whatever. She’d lived without them for twenty-six years and figured she deserved a little bit of chocolate therapy.
Tess refused to blush at Ben’s words. Instead, she glared. “Brownies are really just smooshed muffins. I’ll have you know that there are plenty of people who eat muffins for breakfast and—”
“Tess?” Stone cut her off and she turned toward him, smiling wide when she caught sight of the gorilla shifter. He’d been the first Council guard to arrive and clean house, protecting them as if they were his own band of gorillas.
“What’s up?”
Stone squirmed, gaze traveling from Tess to Ben and back again. “Well…” He sighed and ran a hand through his midnight hair. “The Council has given me a sort of promotion.”
“Awesome!” She was thrilled for him, but something lingered beneath his words, and a hint of worry overrode the whispers in her mind. With his tension, her smile faltered. “It is, right?”
Stone snared a cup of coffee and slid onto the stool beside her. He cradled the steaming cup between his hands, rubbing his palms along the heated ceramic.
It was tempting, oh so tempting, to lower the walls that kept her sane and allow his thoughts to enter her mind. Conversations were so much easier when she knew what was to be said. Instead, she waited Stone out, blowing on her coffee and allowing the silence to stretch between them. Ben continued cooking, flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs while bacon sizzled in a frying pan.
Stone frowned into the mug, eyes intent on the brown liquid within. “It is. And it isn’t. You ladies need…” He huffed. “I’m leaving.”
Tess rolled her eyes and ignored the bolt of fear that took up residence in her gut. “I assumed you would.”
“Which means that I’ll be replaced.” More worry bordering on panic came from him. The man was so caring when it came to the women in the house it bordered on nauseating.
Even Ben snorted at the obviousness of his statement.
“Yes, if you leave, I figured we’d get someone new to keep us under lock and key and protected from the big, bad world.” Her tone was flippant, but she felt the same need for protection as the rest of the women. They feared being brutalized. She feared…so much more. “When’s your replacement showing up?”
More importantly who would get her pre-packaged goodness on a regular basis?
Ben nudged a plate of bacon (including a side of pancakes) her way with a wink and a fork immediately followed. “You’re a God.”
Because, really, Little Debbie hadn’t delivered breakfast that morning. She’d finished off “smooshed muffins” yesterday, and her stash was low. It’d become time for rationing.
She poured syrup onto the pancakes and then cut off a big bite, savoring the sweetness. She gobbled piece after piece, ignoring Stone’s silence. Scenarios flitted through her mind, the thoughts overriding any others from the compound’s occupants.
The man could be evil like the Freedom members, and who would protect them then? Stone had been teaching them self-defense. Three of the survivors were Sensitives—women who had the ability to soothe another’s beast, delve into their thoughts, and even influence someone’s behavior. They had a nearby Sensitive stop by twice a week to work with those women, honing their skills and training them control.
But not Tess. Tess was…different. She was human, yet not. She wasn’t a true shifter, yet she had some of the powers of a Sensitive that only shifters could possess. And some powers that weren’t. All in all, she was a commodity even rarer than a Sensitive. All of Freedom knew it, and the Council was pretty sure there were ex- members still at large that wanted her.
Stone abandoned his coffee cup and scrubbed his face. “He’ll be here soon. I’m just worried about how everyone will handle someone new. He’s a good man, but the other females are…”
He tilted his head to the side. Tess recognized the move as one many shifters employed. Listening intently tended to involve a lot of head tilting and squinting. She tried very, very hard not to laugh and tell the gorilla that he looked a lot like the puppy she’d always wanted when growing up. But concrete compounds weren’t conducive to dogs. At least, that’s what her “father” had said.
“Apparently, soon is now.” The gorilla popped up from the stool and strode through the doorway and toward the front entry by way of the living room.
A low ding announced the elevator’s arrival, the thing having traveled fifty feet from the surface and through the ground to their level.
Unfortunately, she and Stone hadn’t been there when the doors slid open. Or when the newcomer stepped off the elevator. Or even when he wandered further into the compound and came upon the living room.
Tess took two steps into the living room and then met the stranger’s powerful gaze. That simple connection quieted the voices invading her mind until there wasn’t even a whisper of emotion battering her. It was gone. A look had bani
shed Stone’s worry and the ladies’ terror from her thoughts. Blissful silence blanketed her.
Well, at least until the stranger was slammed with the power of one of the resident Sensitives and rendered unconscious. He fell to the ground, more than six feet and over two hundred pounds of man and muscle crashing into the concrete, and the sound of his head striking the solid floor echoed in the room.
Poor Amelia really needed to get a handle on her powers.
Tess settled into a nearby chair, sinking into the cushions and hugging a pillow to her chest as four guards carried their new guy deeper into the compound. The moment he was out of eyesight, the rush of voices returned, battering against her defenses. She wanted to follow the guards, bathe in the relief of having the whispers disappear if only for a moment. Instead, she huddled deeper into her seat, seeking the protection of a simple piece of furniture.
Even hidden in a corner, her presence sent the level of hostility in the room skyrocketing. It grew and swirled around her. And it was all directed at her, of course.
Apparently her being beaten instead of raped on a daily basis angered the others. Or rather, one of them. The animosity and rage punched her, the emotion throwing itself against her steel wall and bouncing off, only to try again.
She shrugged away the emotions, shoved back the whispers, and focused on the women in the room. Jackie was over in the other corner, glaring at her, a snarl on her lips. Tess turned away from her. The rage was… She shuddered.
The two Mastin sisters were simply leaning against one another, eyes closed and bodies tense. Those two… She didn’t even want to think about what they’d suffered.
Amelia, she of the unconscious visitor, was crying on Stone’s shoulder, openly sobbing out her apologies. Ever since she’d regained her strength, she’d welcomed the powers that came with being a Sensitive. She just hadn’t quite learned control.
Stone urged her into the seat and then moved to the center of the room. His presence immediately quieting the others. All eyes turned to him, focusing on the gorilla shifter that had been their primary protector for over a year.
“As you’ve seen, a new guard arrived today.” Grumbles met Stone’s statement, but he continued. The man had talked through so much screaming and crying that he’d finally begun talking over all interruptions. “I’ve been promoted and reassigned by the Council.”
