My Feline Protector (Middlemarch Shifters Book 6)

by Shelley Munro

  “Stop thinking so hard. We will get past this.”

  “I should leave.”

  “No, that’s the last thing you should do. I can’t keep you safe if you leave Middlemarch.”

  The SUV pulled onto a long driveway. It curled through mature trees and ended in front of a large stone house. Mansion, really, since it reminded her of an English stately home.

  “You’re doing a quote here?”

  “Yes. There are several tourist cabins on the grounds, and the owner wants security lights installed. Come with me. You can be my secretary.”

  She wanted to know more about Gerard’s job, and the last thing she needed was quiet in which to worry. She studied his profile as he scanned the vicinity. Royce would hurt Gerard if he could. “Henry should be careful of Royce. He’s a jealous man.”

  “London, if it’s Royce, he won’t be expecting shifters. We have the element of surprise. Trust we can keep you safe.”

  “You don’t know him. He’s vindictive.”

  “There’s my prospective client.” Gerard climbed from the vehicle and strode over to greet his client.

  London followed more slowly, her mind still on Royce. Gerard didn’t understand. No, he didn’t believe Royce was as bad as she’d painted him.

  The truth. Royce was worse.

  * * * * *

  Warm water pounded over his head as he washed away the thick makeup from his face and neck. A stroke of luck that he’d recognized the vehicle as they’d driven past the side road where he’d parked to regroup. Following them had been an impulse. A chuckle burst free. He wished he could watch her face as she read the note he’d left for her. She couldn’t hide her emotions to save herself. He’d always known how to play her, and he’d played her like his grandmother’s violin.

  No reason he couldn’t do that again.

  Since the man had taken her with him, he’d played his little game and left the note before driving to the man’s house. This time he’d driven right up the driveway and parked in front of the house. The dogs had watched him from the deck, neither barking but not missing a thing he did.

  He’d fed them again, but they hadn’t approached the steaks he’d tossed them until he’d driven down the driveway.

  Tomorrow, he’d introduce the sleeping pills to the steaks, which would allow him easy access to the house.

  He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, roughly drying his body while he went through his plan for the following evening. Originally, he’d wanted to act this evening and get it done, but after more thought, he’d decided to work through his plan again, step by step.

  It was too important to fuck up.

  London Allbright stood in his way.

  She had to die.

  He dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. When he’d purchased the steaks for the dogs, he’d added a steak for himself and a good bottle of red wine. Time to relax and go over his plan.

  He padded into the small kitchenette and started to cook his early dinner. Voices came from outside, and he glanced up with little interest.

  “Well,” he muttered, after doing a double take. What were they doing here?

  Moving out of sight, he spied on them. The man was talking to the owner of the farm and London appeared to be taking notes. The owner gestured at the far cabins, then at his. He took another step back, careful not to be seen.

  A slow smile crawled across his face as a thought occurred. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. Instead of entering the man’s house, it might be easier to lure him out, entice him with the promise of work.

  From the little he’d been able to learn, the man’s business was a new one. He’d want customers. If he could find a property near Middlemarch, he’d ring the company for a quote. Even if bitch London didn’t go with him to do the quote, no problem. Getting rid of the guy would be worth the effort, since it’d leave London without protection.

  She’d become easy prey.

  Just the way he liked it.

  And if this plan didn’t work, no matter since he had the other as an alternative.

  One way or the other, he’d get rid of the bitch.

  He’d earned that money, and damn if he intended her to snatch it from his grasp.

  * * * * *

  They worked well together, London thought, and she found the entire process of doing the quote for security lights interesting. During the trip to Gerard’s house the discussion centered on his work.

  “I know you said your firm intends to offer a security guard service, but I thought you were expanding slowly.”

  “We’ll hire locals who we know, probably Leo and Isabella.”

  “Isabella?”

  Gerard pulled up in front of his house and parked beside Henry’s vehicle. The wolf and the terrier stood on the deck and watched them.

  “Yes,” Gerard said. “She has experience. Doug Harnon only requires guards on the gate while the movie company is in town. He doesn’t want fans to enter the property and bother his guests.”

  “What movie are they shooting? I didn’t hear Mr. Harnon mention a title.”

  “He didn’t. I figure we’ll find out if we get the job. The film crew are only in town for two nights, so it’s not a big job. Henry, any problems?”

  Henry growled and followed them inside. Once Gerard closed the door, Henry shifted and headed into the kitchen.

  “London, eyes shut,” Gerard ordered.

  “It’s not my fault he keeps getting naked in front of me. He has a very muscular butt.”

  Henry snorted at her comment. “The woman came and tossed us a steak each. Brazen this time. Parked in front of the house.”

  “Blue car?” Gerard asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “She was at the Sutton Salt Lake,” London said. “Left us a note. She must’ve followed us.”

  “She didn’t move like a woman,” Henry said.

  “I’m certain it is Royce. The note was in Royce’s handwriting,” she added.

  “He’s confident,” Henry said.

  “Too confident.” Gerard pulled two cans of beer from the fridge and handed one to Henry. “Want one, London?”

  “Yes, please.” She yawned as she accepted the can. “Do we have to go out tonight? I’m tired and could do with an early night.”

  “I need to go for a run,” Henry said. “The moon is pulling me.”

  Gerard lowered his beer can. “You can’t vocalize. Not here.”

  “I know. I’m not stupid.”

  Gerard’s gaze was apologetic. “Sorry, we’re on edge. London, I don’t think it will matter if we stay here. I’ll ring Leo and let them know.”

  Two hours later, she went to bed. Gerard joined her not long afterward, stripping off his clothes with quick efficiency. He slid under the covers.

  “Are we arguing? You’re wearing a nightie.”

  “I’m worried someone else I care for will get hurt. You or Henry or Isabella. Leo. Royce doesn’t care who he hurts. He’s greedy and self-centered.”

  Gerard drew her close. “Shush. Let’s change the subject.” He kissed the tip of her nose, making her smile. “I can think of much better things to do.”

  She feigned boredom while her lady parts did snappy salutes. If she kept her mind busy, she could push Royce to the background. Her right arm ached, her mind telling her to press the weakened spot of bone. No. No. No! Royce kept intruding. She’d promised herself, after the big blow up with Jenny, promised herself she’d move forward, promised herself she refused to let him win.

  “London?”

  She rubbed her chest to ease the pressure, gave in to the urge to rub her arm where Royce had twisted it hard enough to crack the bone. “I-yes. Kiss me.” Please, give me something else to focus on.

  “My pleasure.” Gerard shifted his weight over her upper body, the physical contact grounding her in the moment instead of the past. She stared up at him, focusing on his eyes. The green color deepened, the outer edges
of the iris turning golden. A slow smile curved his lips, and her heart beat faster as he lowered his head. His eyes changed shape, elongating, the pupil narrowing to black slits.

  Her mouth went dry, and she licked her lips. A soft growl came from him, his feline close to the surface.

  “Your teeth.” She hadn’t noticed during their earlier encounters. “You’re showing me the real you.”

  “You deserve to know what you’re getting. I don’t want you frightened of me.”

  “I’m not.” And that was the truth. With a smile, she closed the distance between their mouths, sighing when their lips made contact. Her arms crept around his neck, holding him close. She flicked her tongue against his lips, wanting a deeper, more erotic kiss. The slow slide of his tongue against hers had a ripple effect, pushing pleasure through her. He took over the kiss, taking tiny bites from her mouth, frustratingly brief when she craved deep and passionate.

  “We have the night,” he whispered before he grasped the hem of her nightie and ripped it off her in one smooth motion, baring her breasts and her lacy panties. Another yank had the panties disappearing over the edge of the bed in the same way as her nightie.

  “You are buying me another.”

  “I prefer you naked.”

  She tried not to laugh as she caressed his lean cheeks. The stubble tickled her palms. “Time and place, buddy.”

  He kissed her neck, taking nibbles of the slender column and moving downward until his tongue traced across the marking site. Every nerve in the area stood to attention, her breathing coming in quick gasps.

  “I want to bite you so much.”

  Her throat worked in a swallow. “I couldn’t stop you.”

  “I know.” He licked the spot with his raspy tongue. “I want you to want me just as much as I crave you. You need time to get used to the idea of being my mate. You need time to understand the feline community.” He sucked. “We can still have lots of fun.” He dragged his tongue over her collarbone then lower to her breast. His mouth closed over her nipple, his sharp canine prodding into her breast. She shivered, the prick of pain notching up her arousal. His mouth was warm and wet around her nipple, the suction exquisite.

  “Gerard.” Her fingers flexed, digging into his broad shoulders. He grunted, shifting his hips and thrusting against her thigh. The tip of his cock left a wet stream on her leg.

  She ran her hands down his shoulders and dug into his buttocks. His hips flexed, his cock sliding across her thigh again.

  “On your hands and knees,” he ordered.

  She didn’t argue as he moved off her, scrambling onto her hands and knees in the middle of the mattress. He moved behind her, draping his chest over her back with heat.

  “Condom,” she whispered.

  He cursed and peeled away from her. The bedside drawer opened and closed. Foil crackled, and an instant later, he fitted his shaft to her entrance. He pushed inside her, filling her in easy increments. Clawing tension filled her at the same time as his cock.

  “Faster,” she ordered.

  He slapped her butt as he withdrew to the tip of his penis. “My schedule.”

  She pushed back, embedding his cock, closing her eyes to enjoy the way he filled her.

  He hissed, the puff of air stirring the hair at her nape. “Behave or I’ll spank you.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  No sooner had she said the words, then he pulled from her and had her over his knee. He ran his callused palms over her butt, caressing the area and rubbing away the tension. His hand lifted, leaving her skin tingling. An instant later, he spanked her.

  She yelped and reared up, attempting to scramble off his lap, but he was stronger. He held her easily. “The pink looks pretty.” He cupped the burning spot then smacked her again.

  London cried out as he repeated the blows at different angles. Quick and sharp. The pain, intense at first, morphed to something else, balanced between pain and pleasure. Another blow fell over her hot skin, then she felt his fingers. He slipped them between her legs and tested her wet center, one digit grazing her clit. She moaned and lifted into the slight pressure, silently demanding more from him.

  His soft laugh and the removal of the pleasure had her groaning again. “Gerard, please.”

  “So you didn’t mind the spanking.”

  “Gerard.” It didn’t take long for the clawing tension to build inside her. A few touches and strokes from Gerard and she went crazy with the sensations rippling at her pleasure points.

  His teasing finger parted her folds, caressed but never settled. Just a delicate brush of his fingers. Torment. Plain torture.

  She felt the moisture pooling between her legs and craved something to fill the emptiness inside her. As if he could read her mind, one lone finger slid inside her channel. Her pussy flexed, grabbing hold of his digit, but before she could enjoy the sensation, he pulled free.

  “On your hands and knees again.” He gave a light tap on her butt after he lifted her off his lap.

  She followed his order and parted her legs at his gentle insistence. He filled her with one quick stroke and remained buried in her heat, unmoving. Her pussy contracted and this time he groaned. Right. She tightened her inner muscles, grinning at his husky groan.

  “I know what you’re doing,” he said.

  “Trying to hurry you up.”

  He didn’t answer but withdrew and pushed inside her again with a harsh sound of animal enjoyment. Thankfully, he increased his speed, his cock seeming to grow bigger and drive deeper. His warm breath feathered her neck, and that pushed her desire higher. She noticed every touch, every sound, every frisson of pleasure.

  One of his hands cupped a breast, fingers tugging a nipple. His hand wandered from her breast and between her legs. He found her clit and teased it in time with his next stroke. Hot sensual flames licked up her belly, and she sobbed out his name. “Gerard.”

  The velvet tension snapped without warning, shooting a coil of energy from her clit and pushing it through her body. Her channel clenched his cock in rhythmic pulses, the bolts of pleasure continuing for long seconds.

  Gerard groaned and rocked his pelvis forward, plunging deep with rapid thrusts. He called out her name in a husky voice, his convulsive heave of muscles signaling his impending orgasm. He stilled, deep inside her body, his mouth feathering kisses over the base of her throat. A nip, not enough to break the skin, but to awaken her pleasure again. He purred in her ear, the feline rumble making her smile.

  For long moments, they remained locked in position. Finally, Gerard sighed and pulled free. She missed his possession immediately, happiness filling her when he drew her into his embrace. Warm and replete she cuddled into him, her eyes flickering closed. Her mind blessedly empty, let her drift. Gerard murmured soft words, and she relaxed even further into slumber and started a familiar dream.

  A key rattled in the lock, turned. London clutched the arms of her chair, gripping them to the point of pain.

  Royce—it had to be him since no one else had a key—entered the house, the door thudding against the stop. A horn blared, and an ambulance shrieked its warning siren on nearby Notting Hill Road. Someone shouted. An instant later, the door slammed closed, the sharp crash reverberating throughout the house and cutting the sounds from outdoors.

  London tensed in her favorite armchair, her gaze going to the clock above the inglenook fireplace. Ten o’clock.

  “London, where the devil are you?”

  She stood on trembling legs, turning to watch the door. Her mouth opened to reply. Nothing emerged except a feeble croak. She continued to stare at the doorway, her arms wrapped around her torso. Her legs trembled under the strain of holding her weight upright, her knees threatening to buckle. The steps came closer, closer, closer.

  Royce appeared in the doorway, filling the space with his looming presence.

  “Why didn’t you answer me?”

  “I-I…” She swallowed, fear rising from her belly and filling her thro
at, her arms dropping to her sides. Instead, she stared as he crossed the room to her in ground-eating steps.

  The scent of alcohol wafted toward her, nauseating and worrying.

  “Speak,” he ordered. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

  “I didn’t hear you.” Her timid lie barely reached him, but she knew he’d heard.

  His full lips twisted in a sneer. “Where is my dinner?”

  “In the fridge. It will need heating.” She forced a watery smile, her chest so tight she had trouble drawing a breath.

  “I told you I wanted it on the table ready for me when I arrived home.”

  He never invited her out to meet his friends, treating her like an embarrassing convenience. He berated her for being fat and insisted that she diet. After this morning’s lecture, she’d had enough. She’d decided he could have the same meal as her—something low on calories. A silly time for her to gain bravery.

  “I didn’t k-know when you’d be home.”

  “I want my dinner.” His gaze slid down her body.

  She wanted to wrap her arms around herself again, but remained motionless because she knew the less she reacted, the better.

  “All right. It won’t take me long.” She sidled past him, scurrying into the passage and toward the kitchen before he could grab her. In this mood he was unpredictable. Drunk, but not too drunk.

  He’d hit her last week when she hadn’t moved fast enough to follow his order. She couldn’t even remember what she’d done to annoy him now. But the bruise on her left cheek was still healing beneath the heavy layer of makeup.

  She removed the meal from the fridge and placed it in the microwave, putting the timer on for three minutes. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the lack of calories since she’d added his favorite mashed potatoes. She could add a serving of baked beans. He liked baked beans. Yes. Yes, she’d do that now. Open a tin and add them to bulk out his meal.

  Heavy footsteps approached the kitchen. Her breath caught, tension swelling in her again. She had to force herself to move to the pantry, to retrieve the can of baked beans. Her hands trembled as she opened the can and added a portion to the plate before setting the microwave again.

  Royce sat at the table, waiting for his meal. She watched the timer on the microwave, willing it to count down before he barked at her. She didn’t look at him, merely willed the microwave to hurry. Finally, finally the timer dinged. She opened the door and lifted out the plate. The contents burned her hands, but she didn’t murmur a sound, merely placing the plate on the table.