Inheritance: (A New Adult Paranormal Romance) (Heart Lines Series Book 2)

by Heather Hildenbrand

  I vaguely registered that but I couldn’t bring myself to care that he’d done that behind my back. Clearly, it hadn’t worked out in our favor.

  “It’s a mess. Yeah… ransacked. No, but shouldn’t you already know that?” Alex said, clearly pissed at whoever was on the other end.

  He listened a second longer and then huffed and hung up.

  Still holding on to me, he stood stone-still for several minutes. I realized he was sniffing the air, extending his senses, searching. And I had a feeling I knew what he was looking for. The broken light overhead flickered in and out, a strobe light of horrors, and it made my chest tighten in a fear I thought I’d left behind when I’d regained my memory.

  “Is it—?” I began and he shook his head.

  “No,” he said but he didn’t sound happy about it. If anything, he sounded more pissed. “It’s not werewolves. And I don’t think anyone’s still here. The perimeter’s being rechecked now so we’re not leaving until they clear it. Just in case, stay close.” He grabbed my hand and started forward.

  I followed, happy to stick close and to have his hand firmly gripping mine. He led me forward into the living room, and I bent my knees as he tugged me, crouching low to set a fallen lamp upright.

  A second later, he flicked it on and I sighed in relief that the bulb still worked. Steady light filled the space, but instead of making me feel better, it made my heart sink right into my knees as I surveyed the damage.

  The couch had been upturned along with the end tables on either side. The coffee table was actually broken in half, cracked right down the middle by an invisible force. Papers and decor littered the floor. Shards from a broken bulb belonging to the other lamp littered the carpet. On the far wall, the pictures of me and Kiwi and my parents that had once hung were gone. The glass had been broken into pieces on the floor, and the photos themselves torn to shreds.

  Everything was destroyed.

  I took a step and something crunched under my feet. I winced but didn’t stop. Alex’s head whipped up and he met my eyes. Fury—hot and liquid—swam in his gaze.

  “I have to see the rest of it,” I told him.

  His hand in mine tightened. “Come on,” he said simply.

  I followed him room to room without a word, taking in the chaos and destruction that had once been a cozy home filled with eclectic treasures. The clay totem from New Mexico was broken into four pieces and tossed into the fish tank that had been poured into the potted plants near the glass windows that were now shattered along the back wall.

  I tugged free of Alex’s hand and he let me go. I was surprised at that but he stayed close as I picked my way carefully over broken glass and pages torn from the books that had lined the shelves Kiwi had built into the wall. I picked up a small statue and held it up, tears brimming hotly at the edges of my lids as I remembered the day I’d given this to Kiwi.

  It had been a birthday gift and homecoming all in one. She’d been away in Guam and had just returned home in time for my coming to live here. I’d been so broken then. So unsure of the world and myself in it. I’d left behind everything I’d ever known to come here, feeling suddenly like a stranger in my own skin. And when she’d arrived at the airport to pick me up, one look at her expression of gentle acceptance, and I’d known I’d done the right thing by coming here.

  This house, the feeling of it, had been home to me.

  And now it had been invaded. Ruined. Like my own mind.

  “What is it?” Alex asked.

  “It’s a harpy,” I said, smiling softly. “Aunt Kiwi used to tell me bedtime stories of mythical creatures. Harpies were my favorite.”

  Alex peered at it over my shoulder. “Is it a bird or a human or…?”

  “It’s both. Half bird and half woman. They are creatures of the wind. The name means ‘snatcher’ because they would swoop down and pick up evil men in their talons and carry them to Hell.”

  Alex stared at me. “That was your bedtime story?”

  I shrugged.

  He shook his head. “Remind me not to ask you for a story if I can’t sleep,” he muttered.

  “I gave it to Kiwi for her birthday last year. Right after I came to live with her,” I explained, ignoring his complaints as I let the memory take me over. “Kiwi loved it. She said it was perfect for our new beginning together. She said harpies always took what they needed, delivering justice rather than cruelty. She said sometimes being chosen felt like being stolen. I figured she referred to the harpy victims.” I shook my head. “I had no idea what she’d really meant back then. I never asked, and she never pushed. She knew I was doing my best and she never pressed too hard for more.” I looked at Alex. “Who would do this? And why?”

  “I don’t know,” Alex said, his voice low and full of power in the way he had to obviously restrain himself. Control. On a hairpin trigger. “There’s no scent of werewolves here. And the destruction isn’t… animal,” he said finally, looking around with a hard expression.

  “Humans did this?” I asked, setting the harpy statue back down again.

  “It feels that way,” he said.

  “But… Kiwi doesn’t have enemies. I don’t understand.”

  “Maybe it was random,” he said but I caught the skepticism in his words.

  “You don’t actually believe that,” I said.

  “No.” He blew out a breath and ran his hand over his head, drawing my concentration. My breath caught as I realized how much I wanted to do that very thing: to touch him and soothe away his stress.

  I turned away and picked up another item at random. A hand-carved gourd we used to drink Yerba Mate tea from. And set it upright once again.

  “We can look into it more tomorrow. Check with the neighbors. Find out if there have been any other break-ins around here.”

  I snorted. “The closest neighbor is half a mile. If we’re hoping they saw something, I’m afraid there won’t be much information to go on,” I said.

  “Would you know if anything’s been taken?” he asked.

  I frowned, glancing around more sharply. “It doesn’t look like it. But then Kiwi didn’t have anything valuable to begin with. At least not by monetary standards.”

  The overhead bulb had been shattered and the lamp was probably buried underneath this pile somewhere. All I had was the light from the other room that filtered in. “Can we… I mean, are we staying here?” I asked, not quite ready to admit how freaked out I was just standing in this room right now knowing someone else had been here before us. Someone not friendly.

  Alex looked up sharply and the understanding in his gentle expression was clear. “We’re just waiting for a call back from my guys letting us know it’s safe around the property,” he said. And then he waved me over. “Come here. Tell me, is this you?”

  The question drew me away from the book of poetry I held. I set it back on the pile at my feet and stepped carefully to his side, peering over his shoulder at the open book he held in his hands.

  I groaned as I looked closer at the photos taped to the pages. “Maybe,” I said, cringing at my eleven-year-old self.

  Alex smiled and squinted closer. “You had braces,” he said in amusement.

  “Don’t remind me,” I grumbled, turning the page before he could comment further. “Oh, there’s my mom and Kiwi together.”

  I pointed and Alex’s brows creased. “They look so much alike,” he said, studying the women. “Except that your mom is more serious.”

  “She’s always been that way,” I said.

  “She doesn’t have the laugh lines Kiwi does.”

  “Well, that would require laughter.”

  I went back to searching through the ocean of books and found Alex still watching me when I looked up a moment later. “What?” I asked.

  “You didn’t have a lot of laughter growing up.” It wasn’t a question.

  I shrugged. “I mean, don’t feel sorry for me or anything,” I said. “It wasn’t a funeral march or anything.”
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  His lips twitched. “I was just trying to get a clear picture. You never really talked about your childhood before.”

  “Before? As in back when you were lying to me and not talking about yours either?” I shot back. His eyes narrowed fractionally and I regretted the dig as I watched his mask fall into place. I sighed, hating that I could still feel guilty when he was the bad guy here. “My mother didn’t like anything resembling magic or supernatural. I think she always sensed I had something in me and it made her uncomfortable. It was like she became extra serious and practical to make up for it. A counter-balance.”

  Alex watched me with a neutral expression and I couldn’t tell if he was about to insult me or hug me. I kept going. “It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t … accepting. My brother and I were never very close and Dad worked all the time so I didn’t really have anyone to talk to.”

  “You have a brother?” he asked.

  I nodded. “He’s a few years older. My dad was with his mom before he married my mother. By the time I was in middle school, he’d already left for the military. A couple of years after that, he stopped coming home for holidays. My dad wasn’t exactly thrilled about the blue-collar career choice and they didn’t get along so I can’t blame him. I think I began shutting part of myself away pretty early.” I frowned. “Maybe that’s why my brain got so good at doing it for me after Wes got in there.”

  Alex’s expression hardened and anger flashed in his brown eyes. “Don’t say that,” he said sharply.

  At his sharp words, I backed up a step and almost tripped over the books surrounding us. Alex grabbed my wrist and pulled me against him. I landed with my chest against his, an exhale escaping in surprise.

  “I didn’t say it to make you angry,” I said, looking up at him and realizing with a start that we were standing way too close.

  “You didn’t…” He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, the anger was gone. Or masked. Knowing Alex, it was there, just waiting under the surface. “Wesley St. John is not my favorite person. For… reasons. The largest being what he did to your memory.”

  “I remember how pissed you were that night,” I told him and his eyes widened before realization had him nodding.

  “Right. You remember. Damn, this is weird not hiding anything,” he admitted, his mouth curving on one side.

  “Not funny.” I swung out to bat him on the arm but he caught my wrist and held it against his chest, grinning.

  “Just being honest,” he said.

  “It’s about time,” I shot back.

  His smile faded. “Sam, I’m really sorry,” he said.

  “I know.” I gave a flippant answer and all the while, my heart thudded heavily against my ribs. He was apologizing and staring down at me and it was all I could do to keep my mouth off his. Old Sam and New Sam were both losing willpower. This wasn’t good.

  He bent closer and little shudders of pleasure shot through me. My mouth tingled with anticipation and I realized I was definitely losing this battle—fast.

  “Do you want this, Sam?” he whispered, his mouth so close I felt his breath. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

  My knees threatened to buckle. Dammit, he was going to make me ask for it. Like hell.

  “I want you to tell me the truth,” I shot back in a burst of temper. I glared at him—or tried to. “Why did you come back here? And don’t say because Edie forced you to. What do you really want from me?”

  “She didn’t force me to come,” he said, surprising me into silence. “I volunteered.” His mouth curved into a sheepish grin. “Actually, that’s not accurate. I demanded to be assigned here again.”

  I tried not to let that expression get to me but I was almost positive I’d never seen Alex Channing look sheepish. It made me want to melt so I raised my chin and fisted my hands—a hard stance to achieve with his arms still around me. “Why?” I demanded.

  “Because I needed to be near you. Even if you hate me. Even if you never forgive me. I don’t trust anyone else to protect you. And …” He swallowed hard. I watched as he hesitated, his gaze flicking nervously until his eyes locked decidedly on mine. “I don’t want to die without you.”

  “I don’t want you to die at all,” I said.

  He smiled but it looked sad. Resigned. And it terrified me that he’d so clearly made his peace with it. I felt my resolve harden and my hands clutched fistfuls of his shirt; I was fully ready to argue this. But his next words were so unexpected, I faltered, speechless.

  “I want to give you laughter,” he said, his lips brushing over my forehead and then my nose. His fingertips traced my cheek in a feather-light touch. My heart ached and then filled with him.

  I pulled back, searching his gaze for some hidden agenda but came up empty. Still, I was unnerved. I didn’t want to be understood. I didn’t want to laugh. I wanted to heal him. And then I wanted to be pissed at him. Obviously, he was going to make this hard.

  Fine. One step at a time.

  “Kiss me, Alex,” I said, my voice cracking with emotion and desire. “I want you to kiss me. Right now. No more talking.”

  I expected him to devour me immediately, but he only continued studying me, as if memorizing me. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice husky.

  The dim light that filtered in from the other room cast shadows in the background and I was so close, so close that all I could see was his face. All I could feel was his body against mine.

  I nodded. “I forgive you for lying. And…” My frustration got the best of me and I gripped him harder. “We can talk about it later, okay? God, just kiss me already.”

  He grinned, the transformation instant and overwhelming. It wasn’t a grin of happiness. It was triumph. I saw it in the sharpness of his eyes just before they closed as his mouth crashed over mine. The thrill of his arms around me only made me want him more. He’d offered laughter instead of life. I didn’t want that. Not from a guy like Alex. He needed rough and tough and arguing and tempers. He needed heat. And so did I.

  Besides, I didn’t want Alex Channing to be happy. I wanted him to live.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Alex

  Every muscle I possessed was coiled tight. I hadn’t meant to let things get this far. Not tonight. But the moment she’d asked me, the moment I’d touched her, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop. I didn’t want to, and even when I hesitated, trying to think it through rationally, I couldn’t think of a single good reason that I should.

  So, I kissed her like it might be my last. And I tried not to think that it probably was. The heat from the venom, always easily agitated, rose up, flushing my skin and boiling my blood. Or maybe that was the way her hands fisted in my shirt. I wanted those hands on my bare skin. And mine on hers.

  Without breaking our kiss, I ripped at her shirt, thanking the goddess herself that my girl was wearing a button-down. Buttons flew into the darkened corners of the room. I peeled the fabric away from her shoulders and down her arms, tossing it aside. My hands closed over the smooth skin of her shoulders and then lower to cup her breasts through thin, silky fabric.

  I wrenched my mouth free of hers to glance down.

  “When did you put this on?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

  “Uh… this morning?” Sam’s brows knitted and her lips parted as she looked down at herself, disoriented from the kiss. “Or technically last night if you count the time difference in—”

  “You wear sexy shit like this all the time?” I asked, almost wheezing with the effort to breathe and appreciate the silky camisole that was apparently also a bra.

  Sam laughed but it was lower than usual. Sultry and sexy as hell. “I didn’t plan on letting you get down to this layer if that’s what you’re asking.”

  I yanked her back against me and ran my hands over the silk. She shuddered underneath my touch, and I almost lost it. But no, not here. We could not stay in this room.

  I kissed her once for good measure and then forced myself away again just lo
ng enough to reach down and scoop her up into my arms. She let out a small cry that made me harden. I’d spent way too many nights wondering what Samantha Knight sounded like as she came.

  It was past time to find out.

  I maneuvered carefully, keeping Sam balanced firmly in my arms and yanking my phone out of my pocket, hitting the call-back button. The hunter on the other end was breathless as he answered.

  “Are we good?” I asked without bothering to offer a hello.

  “All good, boss,” he said.

  “Take up post at half-mile markers around the property line. I’ll call you when we leave.”

  I hung up and looked down at Sam, shoving aside all thoughts of work as I focused on this moment—and what came next. “Where’s your room?” I asked, stepping carefully to avoid slipping on the pile of rubble that was once Kiwi’s office.

  I wasn’t exactly thrilled about doing this here but there was no scent of werewolf. And anything human didn’t stand a chance. Not to mention there was a full team outside guarding the exit points. Besides, I was done waiting and thank the fucking stars, so was she.

  “Across the hall,” Sam said, her breath hitting my neck and making my patience thin.

  I wasted no time getting us there.

  We’d briefly inspected it earlier but there hadn’t been nearly as much destruction here since there hadn’t been as much to break. Only a mattress strewn onto the floor and a dresser, its empty drawers tossed around haphazardly.

  I frowned as I looked around at it all and shook my head, wondering if I was about to ruin this entire moment. “No.”

  “What?” Sam asked. I bent low and grabbed the comforter off the floor before whirling around. With Sam still clutched in my arms, I made my way down the hall toward the back door.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  I pushed out the back door hanging limp on its hinges and walked into the darkness. Sam gripped my shirt harder. “Alex,” she pressed when I didn’t answer.

  But I didn’t want her to tell me no.