by Jodi Vaughn
He was so very still.
She held her breath as she waited for his heart to beat.
When she felt the strong, steady beat against her cheek, she let tears fall freely.
Lying down beside him, she sobbed into his furry body.
***
“I like this one, Ava.” Granny pointed to the painting in shades of green and yellow and gray that hung along the brick wall of Ande Allison’s art studio. “It reminds me of coming home again.”
“It reminds me of a hot summer day and lying naked in the grass.” Ava nodded and turned to Damon. “Damon, what does this remind you of?”
“It reminds me that I need to be working on a mission for Barrett instead of wandering around some artsy fartsy studio.” He scowled and placed his hands on his hips.
“But I want to get some art for our home.” Ava pouted and snuggled up to him.
Damn, he was always a goner whenever she touched him.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t get any. I just don’t think I need to be here with you.” He traced a finger down her cheek.
“I want you here with me.” She slid her arms around his neck and smiled up at him.
He pulled her tighter into his embrace, once again struck by the reality that she was all his.
“I know, baby, but I have a job I need to do.”
“What kind of work do you do, Mr. Trahan?” Ande Allison, the artist and proprietor, shot him a friendly smile.
“You could say I’m in the protection business.” He cut his eyes at the petite blonde.
“Oh, like a bodyguard. How exciting.” Her smile brightened.
Ava snorted and shook her head before slipping out of his arms. “Ande, I think I want to take those two over there. I know just the place to hang them.”
“Perfect. I’ll get them ready for you.” The artist began taking down the artwork.
“I like this one too,” Granny announced from the other side of the room. “It reminds me of something familiar.”
Damon followed Ava over to where Granny was standing.
Damon snorted as his gaze fell upon the picture that was leaning up against the wall.
“It’s something you haven’t seen in about fifty years,” Damon said as he took in the painting that clearly resembled a three-foot penis.
“Granny, are you sure you want that one?” Ava cut her eyes at Damon.
“Of course, dear. Why wouldn’t I?”
“’Cause it looks like a dick.” Damon barked out a laugh.
“Damon.” Ava jabbed him in the ribs.
“Oh, dear.” Ande hurried over to them and gave them an apologetic smile. He didn’t miss how the blush stole over her cheeks.
“I’m afraid that’s not for sale. You see, one of my students did that, and it didn’t turn out quite like it was supposed to.” The blush darkened.
“Was it supposed to be a dick?” Damon asked.
Ava jabbed him hard in the side.
“I think she was trying to paint a tree.” Ande put her arm around Granny and tried to herd the old lady away. But Granny wasn’t having it. She shrugged out of the woman’s grip and shook her head.
“But I’m interested in purchasing this piece.” Granny pursed her lips and continued to gaze upon the painting.
“I’m sorry, but I really can’t sell it.” Ande nibbled on her bottom lip as she looked to Ava for help.
“You don’t want that, Granny,” Damon offered. The last thing the woman needed was a picture of a giant dick hanging over her dining room table. Thanksgiving would never be the same again. “Besides, it belongs to her student, and she can’t legally sell something that doesn’t belong to her.”
“Fine.” Granny pursed her wrinkled lips and gave Ande a stern look that would make most humans back down. But to her credit, Ande didn’t budge. She just stood there with a cheery smile on her face.
“I do have something in the back you might like. You did say you were from Louisiana?”
“That’s right.” Granny cocked her head, clearly interested in what the artist had that might pique her interest.
“I’ll be right back.”
A few seconds later, Ande returned with a sizeable canvas and leaned it against the brick wall. Abstract bright red and fuchsia swirls and slashes of green were painted behind what appeared to be an abstract black wrought-iron fence.
“It’s beautiful. And it reminds me of one of the gardens in the Garden District of New Orleans.” Granny’s wide smile stretched her wrinkles to the corners.
“That’s where I got my inspiration.” Ande clasped her hands together as a look of unabashed pleasure crossed he face. “I stayed at a B&B there on my last trip to New Orleans.”
“It’s perfect. I’ll take this instead.” Granny pulled her wallet out of her white plastic purse.
“I’ll wrap it for you so it won’t get damaged.”
Damon sighed and glanced at his Luminox watch again.
“What’s with you, anyway?” Ava came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her small, pert breasts pressed into his back, eliciting a reaction from his body.
“Nothing. Art isn’t my thing. You know that, Ava.” He turned, pulling her into his embrace.
She looked up and narrowed her astute eyes at him. “You’re not just here on a visit, are you? Did Barrett send you here on a mission?”
He pressed his lips together in a thin line, warning her not to say anything, especially around Granny. The last thing he needed was her interference while on a recon mission for his Pack Master.
“Ava...” He warned.
“I know, I know. You can’t tell me.” She pouted.
“That’s right. You knew what you were getting into when you mated me.” He grinned and pressed his lips to hers in a heated kiss.
Her lips parted, and he didn’t miss his chance to taste her sweet mouth. He groaned as he dipped his tongue between her lips while holding her snug against his body. Her hands slid up his bare arms and laced together behind his neck, pulling him further into the kiss. His body began to ache with that familiar need that always grew when she was in his arms.
Nothing ever felt as good as his Ava. Nothing.
“Ahem.” Granny cleared her throat behind him.
Reluctantly, he pulled away from his mate and faced the older woman.
“Now, now. You two need to have better manners than to be making out like two rats in a wool sock. Why, Mrs. Allison is going to think I’ve raised a wild animal.”
Ava barked out a laugh at the ironic meaning while he gave Granny a smile. “No one would think that, Granny.”
“They better not. I’ve got a reputation to protect, you know.” She hiked her white purse up on her shoulder and nodded at him to take the canvases the artist had wrapped for them.
“Thank you so much. I hope you’ll enjoy your new pieces.” Ande handed the canvases to Damon and smiled.
He breathed out a sigh of relief as they made their way out the door. One day at the gallery was enough to last him a lifetime.
***
Pain seared his head as Zane blinked his eyes open and stared up at the white, bumpy ceiling.
He held up his hand.
He’d shifted back to his human form while he had been unconscious.
Wincing, he glanced down at the heavy weight that was pressed against his chest. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips when he saw Skylar’s dark red locks spilled out across his skin. Her slender shoulders were shaking as tears slid down her face and landed on his naked chest.
He cupped the back of her head. “Skylar.”
Her head jerked up, and she met his gaze.
“Oh, my god. I thought I’d killed you. And then I saw you were breathing and I thought maybe you had brain damage because you wouldn’t wake up. You’ve been out all day.” She buried her face in the crook of his neck and clung to him like a vine.
“Nope. No damage.” He winced as another pain shot through his skull. He
rubbed the side of his head. “What did you have in that box anyway? A brick?”
“No. Rocks,” she said pitifully.
“Of course. What else would be in a shoebox?” He wanted to laugh, but it hurt too fucking bad.
She pulled away and met his gaze. Her lip quivered as she stared at him, so very serious. “Sophia gave it to me. She collects rocks, and she wanted me to have a collection too.”
He eased up on his elbows and glanced down at his nudity. Skylar glanced at his erection, and her face turned a pretty shade of pink. She looked away as she tried to continue her conversation.
“Who’s Sophia?”
“A very special friend.” Skylar gave him a true smile.
Whoever Sophia was made Skylar happy. He was glad she had a friend she could count on. Although he did wonder about a grown-ass woman collecting rocks. Seemed kind of juvenile.
To each her own.
He got his feet under him while Skylar kept her arm around his waist to steady him. He didn’t bother telling her that there was no way she could bear his weight if he did fall—he liked the way she felt against him too much to say anything.
He ambled into the living room and eased himself onto the couch. While he didn’t feel any blood coursing down the side of his head, he knew that it was probably bruised at best. He glanced out the window into the darkness. She must have hit him pretty hard to make him lose consciousness for almost twelve hours.
“You know how to handle yourself, I’ll give you that.” He cracked a smile.
“God, Zane, I’m so sorry. It was just—you had bloodlust in your eyes, and it was like you couldn’t even see me…”
He cupped a hand under her chin. His thumb grazed the bottom of her full lip as he searched her face. “Don’t be sorry. You did what you needed to do. I’m the one who needs to apologize.”
His chest ached with remorse. He could have killed her. And he wouldn’t have remembered any of it.
“I’m so sorry, Skylar. While I’m like this and unable to control my shift or my actions, I am a danger to you.” He stood and shook his head and looked around her apartment. “I can’t stop ruining the clothes you get me, but I can’t stay here.”
He hated this. He hated not having any kind of damn control over anything. He lived his life by the code of the Pack, and he’d strived his whole life to keep his body in control and under discipline.
Hell, control and discipline were what made him a good soldier. That was what made him a hell of a Guardian.
“You can’t leave.” She jumped to her feet. “Where the hell are you going to go? Someone is going to see you shift, and then where will you be?” Her eyes widened with each word.
“If there’s a risk that I can lose control and hurt you, then I can’t stay here. You know that.” His words came out harsher than he meant them to, but his gut was still twisting with what could have happened if Skylar hadn’t knocked him out.
“I can handle myself. You said so yourself. You don’t need to worry about me.” She stuck her hands in her jeans pockets and lifted her chin in that defiant way she’d had as a child.
“I could never live with myself if I hurt you, if something happened to you. Don’t you understand?” He grabbed her arms and gave her a little shake, hoping the gravity of the situation would sink into that thick skull of hers.
“Don’t do that. You don’t tell me what to do.” She wrenched free of his hold and took a step back while piercing him with a glare.
“Stop being so unreasonable. You know as well as I do that if I lost control, I could hurt you.”
“And you know that I can handle myself. Believe me, I’ve had to do that since I was a child.”
“This is different. This is dangerous.”
“What did you think my childhood consisted of? Puppies and cartoons?” She curled her fingers into fists and leaned into his space. “By the time I was old enough to walk, I knew I had to find places to hide to keep my father from hitting me when he got drunk. By the time I was in school, I knew enough to stay out of his way and hide the food I managed to take from your house under my bed so I wouldn’t go days without eating. And when I hit puberty and started looking like a young woman, I had to learn how to hit back hard enough so I wouldn’t be raped by my father’s friends. So don’t you sit there and tell me I’m some helpless female when it comes to out-of-control werewolves who don’t give a shit about anyone but themselves.” Chest heaving and eyes flashing with anger, she spun on her heel and headed into the bathroom.
Zane felt like he’d been hit in the chest by a two-by-four.
He’d known her life had not been easy, but never in a million years would he have guessed she was physically abused.
Anger flooded his body like lava in a volcano. The image of her piece-of-shit father trying to hit her—or even worse, letting his friends try to lay their hands on her—had rage flooding through his body.
He was quickly losing control, and he didn’t fucking care anymore. He lifted his head back and growled as the shift began to take over his body. He wanted nothing more than to seek out her offenders and rip them apart with his teeth until they were nothing but a bloody smear on the ground.
***
The bathroom door flew open and Skylar came barreling out as a loud roar echoed through the small apartment.
“Zane, what the hell are you doing? Keep it down, or nosy old Mrs. Nelson is going to call the cops!” she hissed at him. He once again shifted into wolf form and began pacing the tiny living room floor. He would make it two steps before turning around. He looked more like a caged tiger than a werewolf.
“The last thing I need is her interference.” She didn’t have time to look for another apartment, and she doubted she could find one as cheap as this one. Every spare cent went into her business. She wanted to keep a low profile, get her business on solid footing, and get her project going for girls who needed a safe place to stay.
That was her priority, and now Zane was going to ruin everything with his whole alpha male routine.
Knock, knock, knock.
She stiffened, and Zane stopped his pacing. Maybe if they stayed quiet, whoever it was would go away.
Knock, knock, knock.
She shot him a glare when she saw that wasn’t happening.
“Go in the bedroom and stay there,” she whispered.
He didn’t move for a few seconds, and she wondered if she was going to have to grab him by his hairy tail and drag him.
He stared at her through intense, wolfy eyes, and she fought the tiny shiver of fear that zinged through her stomach at the memory of what had happened the last time he shifted.
She didn’t want to hurt him, nor did she want to draw attention to herself by having him here.
“Please,” she implored.
He gave a low growl and lumbered back into the bedroom. She closed the door behind him.
She grabbed the remote control off the small table by the couch and turned on the stereo system.
Glad she’d put her robe on, she slowly walked to the door and pressed her sweaty palms to her thighs before reaching for the doorknob.
Easing open the door, she blinked in surprise.
“Hector, what are you doing here?” He was standing there holding his daughter, Sophia, in his arms. Skylar looked over his shoulder as Mrs. Nelson popped her head out her own door, scowled, and slammed it shut.
Thank god the old woman didn’t want to talk.
“What the hell is going on in there?” He cocked his head and looked around her.
“Just listening to the radio, that’s all,” she said a little too quickly. She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t ask to come inside. She wasn’t sure how Zane was going to react to another male in her apartment.
“Look, Maria is in labor, and I need Sophia to stay with you tonight.” He gave her a wide-eyed, frantic stare as she sleepy-eyed child raised her head off his shoulder and held her arms up for Skylar to take her.
Her heart tugged as she took Sophia in her arms. The little girl laid her head back on her shoulder.
“Where are your other kids?” She looked out behind him to make sure they were not in tow, but he was alone.
“They are at the neighbor’s house. I couldn’t leave Sophia there because she’s allergic to the neighbor’s cat. The last time she went over there, she had hives for a week.” His breathing grew more rapid.
“What about dogs? Is she allergic to dogs?” Zane had probably shed enough to make a coat. She didn’t need Sophia to have a reaction to that as well.
“No, just cats.” Hector shook his head. “Look, Skylar, I understand this is really bad timing, but I don’t have anyone else I can call.” He pressed a small pink princess backpack in her hand and began backing away.
“I’ll be back tomorrow to pick her up. My mother is driving in from Louisiana to stay with the kids. He jogged to his truck and called out before jumping into the driver’s seat, “I owe you one, boss.” With a wave of his hand, he cranked up the old truck, backed out of the parking space, and tore out of the parking lot.
“Skylar, I’m tired.” Sophia wrapped her arms tighter around Skylar’s neck and settled against her shoulder.
She couldn’t help but smile, and she patted the child’s tiny back. Her fingers brushed the soft cotton pajamas that were the color of cotton candy. She stepped inside and shut the door.
“Doggie,” Sophia said in her sleepy voice as she raised her head and looked over Skylar’s shoulder.
She spun around. Zane stood in the middle of the open bedroom doorway.
“How did you get out?” Her eyes widened.
He cocked his head to the side and stared at Sophia in her arms.
“Shit.” She slammed a hand over her mouth. She never cursed, and certainly not in front of children. But Zane made her do a lot of things she didn’t normally do.
“Skylar said a bad word.”
“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry.” She tightened her hold on the little girl. She might care for Zane, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to let him hurt Sophia.
“Doggie.” Apparently, Skylar’s bad language was quickly forgotten as Sophia turned back to Zane. She tried to wiggle out her other arm to reach for the animal, but Skylar tightened her hold on the child.
