Shepherd’s Watch: Guarded

by J. Hali Steele

  Shepherd’s Watch 2: Guarded

  J. Hali Steele

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2010 J. Hali Steele

  ISBN: 978-1-60521-142-8

  Formats Available:

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  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  PO Box 1046

  Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Chrissie Henderson

  Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

  Adult Sexual Content

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  Shepherd’s Watch 2: Guarded

  J. Hali Steele

  One stroke of his tongue and you’re his forever. Experience the true meaning of doggy-style.

  Wade Alsatian is stuck guarding the owner of the escort service he frequents. He doesn’t count on the sexy as hell woman tying him in knots and driving him insane with her mouth and body.

  Jetta Volker still carries scars from a dog attack. Now she’s left in the care of a huge shepherd, and afraid to move in her own home. But it’s for other reasons she waits for her guard to return. His scent triggers a need she has ignored far too long. Jetta gave up on men -- but she wants this one.

  Breaking through barriers and accepting the scars from their past may tear them apart.

  Chapter One

  Expletives blasted past his lips and echoed from the alley walls. He swiped his cheek with his hand and stared at the muck and bits of garbage stuck to his fingers.

  “You okay?”

  Wade hadn’t realized he had company other than the two dogs he pursued into the alley that had scampered off. The mangy mutts disappeared again. His eyesight was five times better than humans’ but the shepherds were nowhere to be seen. “God damn it.” They’d make an excellent addition to Shepherd’s Watch.

  “What a filthy mouth, Mr. Alsatian.”

  From his sprawled position beside the putrid dumpster, Wade Alsatian glared at the pert brown face above him. Her mesmerizing voice doused him with a shockwave of calm. She had the same effect on his two brothers, Ren and Max. He didn’t like it one bit. “What the hell are you doing here?” He hauled his six-foot frame to his feet. He felt ridiculous and was glad the area wasn’t well lit. Last thing he wanted was Victoria Germaine seeing his face redden. How the hell had she snuck up on him anyway?

  Head up, he sniffed the air a few times in a last-ditch effort to scent the extremely large, black, brown and tan mongrels he’d damn near caught this time. “Wily bastards.” It was as if they’d never been here.

  “Who’re you talking about?”

  Wade brushed at the gooey mess stuck to his leathers and wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Guess you didn’t see two really large dogs dash from the alley?” There was something odd about Victoria that he just couldn’t put his finger on, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure why his older brother Max seemed to be drawn to the woman.

  Victoria was gorgeous but too damn skinny. She had the clearest skin that looked like it had been dusted with nutmeg. Wade didn’t trust her. He shrugged his thoughts away. He didn’t have to live with her, or sleep with her, for that matter. His preference was for curvier women. Squaring his shoulders so he stood inches above her tall frame, he attempted intimidation. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I’m surprised Shepherd’s Watch has any clients if you deal with them.” The glint of humor in her amber eyes pricked the hairs on the back of his neck. “Follow me. You can clean up at my place around the corner. The Seared Soul is just a few blocks that way.” She waved toward where the dogs had vanished into the night. “I cut through the alley because it’s quicker.” She continued in the direction she’d been heading.

  Wade had acquiesced to Max’s order that no one but him watch Ms. Germaine. Had he known she lived in this neighborhood, he would have disobeyed his brother’s wishes. Especially since the two young shepherds he’d chased for the last week lived around here too, and somehow they always managed to disappear in the same place.

  The lady was an enigma, and since he scented better than either of his brothers, Wade couldn’t understand why he smelled nothing around her other than the cloying odor of cinnamon. Strange.

  Keeping his distance, he followed her sucking in shallow breaths. The stench was vile. Sometimes it didn’t pay to have the nose of a dog. Not any dog, but that of a keen-smelling German shepherd. Wade and his brothers were… well, shifters. They were genetically created by an Austrian monk who experimented with dominant and recessive traits in peas. Fucking peas.

  No one suspected exactly how far the man had gone. His splicing genes and implanting embryos in female shepherds were the reason his kind existed. Thank God for the monk who smuggled their dam along with him and his brothers to safety, or they would have been put to death.

  They’d reached the street when a scuffling sound at the opposite end of the alleyway caught his attention. He spun on his heels just in time to see a man carrying someone. The growls alerted him -- the dogs were back -- and instantly, they attacked the stranger. He dropped the body against the dumpster when the animals pounced on him. Bloodcurdling screams echoed through the quiet night. Victoria was beside him in a flash, and with her fingers in her mouth, she sounded a sharp whistle.

  The dogs released their catch and swung in their direction, growling. Baring their canines, a course of howls followed before they retreated back into the street. The man scrambled to his feet and limped off behind them.

  Wade broke into a run, pursuing the injured stranger. He passed the body sprawled in the filth. A woman.

  “Oh, my God! Jetta. Damn it, I told you this was going to happen.” Stopping at the mouth of the alley, he glanced back and watched Victoria flop down beside the unconscious body. “Let him go, Wade, help me.”

  He was unable to change into his shepherd in front of Victoria, and it was unlikely at this hour in the morning that anyone else would stop the felon. He wouldn’t forget the man’s odor.

  Wade’s attention became riveted to the body slumped against the wall. His nostrils flared at the familiar scent dancing around his head but he couldn’t place it.

  Victoria ripped a piece of the lady’s shirt and attempted to clean her face. His nostrils flared wider when the smell wafted up his nose. Elegant Escorts.

  This woman was the proprietor of the business he used to procure the women who met his needs. Wade had never seen the owner, but her scent surrounded her office and it had always enticed him. What was she doing beat-up in an alley, and how the hell
did Victoria Germaine know her? Shit, this could turn out to be a real mess. “I got her.” Wade bent down and lifted her gingerly. “Lead the way to your place.”

  Partway down the alley, she winced and her body bowed out of his arms. Her shirt was now torn, but there wasn’t much blood and there were no visible injuries. Her fists, balled in tight knots, pressed against her stomach. Trying hard not to jostle her, he lengthened his steps, hoping they didn’t have far to go.

  Her hair was dark and hung past her shoulders. Pale skin revealed she didn’t spend much time in the sun. Her nose turned up at the tip, giving her a young, soft look. Tears stained her rounded cheeks, and he noticed a slight swelling on the left side of her jaw.

  Wade couldn’t help staring at her breasts since they were only partially covered by the ripped shirt. Where was the blood coming from?

  The hiss of air drew his attention. Her eyes were open. Hazel green flecked with gold. Beautiful. They stretched wide with fear. A scream full of terror barreled past her lips and into the night air. He cringed at the high pitch, his gut tightening at the sound.

  “You’re safe.” He tilted her so she could see Victoria. The scream withered away but she struggled in his arms. Wade was at a loss on how to deal with her.

  “Hurry,” Victoria yelled back as she rounded the corner a few feet in front of him.

  Slowing his step, he whispered in the woman’s ear, “Shh, no one will ever hurt you again.” He stroked his tongue over her brow and down her cheek. He swept it over her lips, and his heart bumped against his rib cage. That was his shepherd. Dogs enjoyed tasting and lapping their bodies, and anyone else’s.

  God only knows why, but it quieted Jetta. Dark eyelashes fluttered to her cheeks and her breathing slowed. She’d passed out again.

  “I’ll find that bastard and tear his hands off for daring to touch you.” Energy zinged through his limbs, making him move faster. Wade didn’t understand what was happening, but he knew one thing. He meant every word.

  * * *

  Jetta Volker lay curled in a fetal ball, the unmistakable scent of cinnamon lingering in the air. Comforting, because she knew she was in Vic’s apartment. Her memory was fuzzy. She’d walked from her office to her car and Jordan, her ex, was there. Everything else remained hazy. Elegant Escorts wasn’t far from her friend’s place, but how had Jetta ended up here?

  Listening to the quiet voices in the hallway, she began to shake. His voice was low, hard. Made her nervous as hell, but at the same time, something about it soothed her, made her want to hear more.

  A brief glimpse of his face in the alley, and she’d never forget it. Brown eyes glazed with anger and… something sinister. His dark hair had looked thick and unkempt, while his lips were drawn in a savage line.

  He’d licked her face! She moved the hand resting on her hip to her face and traced over her brow and down her cheek. The path his tongue took, tingled. Her eyes watered when she touched her jaw. Damn, it hurt. What the hell had happened? Her head pounded as she tried hard to concentrate on their conversation without alerting them she was awake.

  “I have to go back and set up for tomorrow,” Vic said. “You can handle a couple hours.”

  “I got things to do. I’m not a damn babysitter.”

  “Wade, I’ll be back before you know it.” The front door shut with a bang.

  “Shit.”

  One word bitten out. Oh God, she didn’t want to be left alone with the stranger any more than it sounded like he wanted to be saddled with her. What was Vic thinking?

  The hand knotted against her stomach, burned. Rolling onto her back, she raised her arm and opened her fingers. It stung like hell. Dried blood was crusted in the palm. While she watched, a thin line opened and blood seeped out, dripping down her wrist.

  The sound snaked its way from the pit of her belly and erupted in a wail that bounced from the walls.

  “What the fuck…” The man whirled into the room, crouched in a fighter’s stance, his eyes scouring every corner. In two long strides, he reached the side of the bed. “Are you okay?”

  “My hand.” It still hung in the air and blood continued to dribble down her arm.

  He gripped her fingers and curled them tight against the wound. “Your fist was clenched so tight around your car keys, you cut yourself.” He stared at her. “Keep it closed, I’ll be right back.”

  Hurried steps receded down the hall, and Jetta heard the water come on in the bathroom. Back in a split second, he sat on the bed and opened her hand in his lap and pushed a cold, wet cloth against the ragged cut.

  Her stomach roiling, she stared mesmerized at the blood soaking through the cloth, and knew she was going to faint. “I --”

  Jetta passed out.

  * * *

  She came to and heard the shower running. Her hand throbbed and she lifted it to see a clean, well-wrapped bandage. Thank God, no blood. Jetta wasn’t proud of the fact that she fainted at the sight of blood. She considered herself pretty hardboiled but a single drop of the red fluid could shut her down like an electrical blackout.

  It hadn’t always been that way. Eight years earlier she dated a guy -- a man Jetta thought she’d marry -- until she walked in on him with another woman. That wasn’t the worst of it. He owned a very high-strung Doberman that went nuts in the ensuing storm and attacked her. The dog lunged at Jetta, and she spun to avoid damage to her face before the dog knocked her down and mauled her back.

  In an effort to escape, she turned and crab-crawled backward to reach the kitchen door. The dog pounced again and sharp teeth sank into her stomach. She vaguely remembered hearing the girl scream and the dog being yanked from her. Looking down and seeing her blood-soaked shirt, she slipped into unconsciousness. From that day forward she’d been afraid of dogs -- and she passed out at the sight of blood.

  Jetta’s scars reminded her every day of losing her dream of modeling. As for being Jordan’s wife, she considered herself lucky it hadn’t happened.

  On each visit to the hospital he’d apologize, said he was sorry a hundred times. Even said he wanted her back and it would be different. Jetta didn’t believe him. Her ex had become more and more agitated each time she rejected him. He was demanding and rude to everyone who tried to help her. Now that she thought about it, Jordan was just as high-strung as the dog.

  She’d scraped together all her money and opened an escort service, and for a few years lived a wild life bolstered by lots of alcohol. Bitter, she’d vowed never to let another man hurt her. Living like that couldn’t last long. After the pain in her heart eased, she settled down to a quiet, uneventful life. She’d moved, hired all new girls, and had one steadfast rule -- don’t do anything you don’t want to. She had a one-night stand occasionally, but there hadn’t been another relationship or a man in her life.

  Tonight was the first time she’d seen Jordan since leaving the hospital. He’d come to her office to see how she was doing. Opening a bottle of wine he’d brought with him, he rambled on saying he was sorry and had to see her. She took the glass he offered, took an obligatory swallow, and then asked him to leave. Jetta hadn’t felt anything for him at all. Not even anger.

  Stretching to ease the sore muscles in her body, she heard the floorboards squeak, drawing her attention to the doorway. A brooding devil stood there. A damn good-looking one. His belly was ripped with muscle, and a damp towel circling narrow hips looked ready to fall to the floor. Brown eyes gazed at her from a tanned face with one brow quirked up.

  She could have sworn a smile shadowed his lips. It vanished quickly. Sternness settled on his features and he appeared more like a golden statue. All hard, sculpted muscle and sinew glistening with drops of water.

  The only really bad ache was in the palm of her hand. That wasn’t enough pain to mask the flood of heat that washed from her vagina. Damn, he’s hot. For a brief moment, she wished for the old days. Jetta shook her head side-to-side in an attempt to clear her mind of thoughts she hadn’t had for a long ti
me. The palm of her hand tingled, sending a shiver up her arm. Weird.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “I’m Wade.”

  “Jetta Volker.”

  “I know. We need to get you showered.”

  “I can do it.” Last thing she needed was to have this man’s hands on her body. Sweat trickled between her shoulder blades. “I need to put something on.”

  “Won’t be the first woman I’ve seen naked.” Not budging, he continued to gaze at her and the smile had returned to his mouth. It never reached his eyes. “Sure you don’t want some help? I promise not to like it too much.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Come on, you smell bad.” He strode to the bed, grasped the edge of the sheet and peeled it back. His eyes went wide. “Jesus!”

  Gathering every ounce of strength and courage, she rose from the bed, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and holding her head high she walked naked toward the door.

  Her heart sank to her knees when she heard him hiss. Jetta’s back wasn’t as bad as her stomach, but she’d grown used to the shock it gave when others saw the crisscross of lines embedded there. The ugly scars came in handy for chasing any man right out the door who thought of staying the night in her bed.

  When the attack happened, there wasn’t enough money for plastic surgery. After she could afford it, Jetta didn’t care anymore. Why in the hell did it matter now? She wished she had covered up. Jetta didn’t want Wade’s pity. Her voice shook when she turned to glare at him. “I don’t want your pity.” She walked stiffly through the door.

  For the first time in years, tears slipped down her face because of the scars.

  Chapter Two

  Victoria returned while Jetta was still in the shower, and Max sat beside on the sofa. “Who the hell did that to her?”

  “I’m not sure she’d want me to talk about it.” Her voice was sad. “I don’t know who would want to hurt her now. Maybe a disgruntled customer? She’s not in the most… favorable line of business.” She looked at Max. “Promise me you’ll watch her. I don’t want her alone at her place, it’s too far outside of town.”