“You can’t start thinking with your dick, Storm, we need you here with us,” Kingston returned, “Besides, you don’t know if she’s truly yours.”
“Yes, I do. When she was in danger, I was able to use powers I never had. It’s the sign of a true mate.”
“I saw it too, Kingston,” Furio added.
The Stallion Shifter was sporting a black eye and stood as far away from Storm’s bedroom door as the hall would allow. Smart man. While Storm wasn’t proud of himself for punching him in the face, his animal did find some pleasure in knowing he’d hit the man for touching his woman. Never mind what he did to those asshole reptile Shifters.
“How did clean up go?” he asked his leader.
“Fine. Byram said there wasn’t much left of the two men, but he recognized one as a Loyalist sympathizer,” Kingston narrowed his gold eyes at him.
“Two, there were three of them,” Storm interrupted.
“Yeah, well, you must’ve missed at least one of their carotid arteries then. And why were you there to begin with?”
“To talk to his fucking informant,” Storm growled.
He didn’t like the questions. He didn’t want them in his room. He just wanted her to wake up.
“Uh, anyway, Byram found my informant in the back seat of a car not too far from the lot,” Furio interrupted, “he was missing his head though.”
“Shit. So, it was an ambush,” Storm concluded.
As a Vampire, Byram would’ve been able to pick up the blood trail of the Reptilian Shifters and the Goblin informant. The Loyalists had no shame apparently. They would hire anyone. Even a bunch of half-wits who didn’t seem to know they should never bring a human into the war between supernatural factions. The Dragon Shifter’s voice shook him from his reverie, and Storm focused on the golden-eyed man.
“It would seem that way. The woman was working you guessed?”
“Well, I snagged her computer, but she doesn’t seem to be a librarian, “ Furio interjected.
“You stole her things back at the library?” Storm asked.
“Not stole, borrowed, so we could learn why those goons wanted her,” he insisted.
“It doesn’t matter. You have to bring her back,” Kingston said.
“No,” he snarled, “that fucking Gila Shifter scratched her. She could be infected.”
“Well, we won’t know that if you don’t let Byram near her.”
“I could claim her. My bite will remove any toxins,” he started.
“I already told you, no,” the Dragon snapped at him.
Storm snarled, though he averted his eyes out of respect for their leader. He’d vowed to follow Kingston in all things, but this was not part of his duty to the man or the Guardians.
No one had the right to interfere between mates. Not even him. His Wolf bristled. The beast was not happy with Kingston’s declaration. The thought of anyone, especially that bloodsucker Byram going anywhere near his mate, was liable to drive Storm crazy. She was an innocent, and she was his alone to protect.
“Kingston, my Wolf just can’t do that, you know what this is like. She is my mate, I can’t let anyone else near her. I can’t let her go. She is too soft for this cruel world.”
“Storm-”
“No. If the Loyalists know about her, if that bastard who got away told them about my reaction to being near her, then her life is in danger.”
He could not let her go without knowing she was safe. Maybe not even then. His soft mate had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Through no fault of her own she’d become the target of his worst enemy.
“The Loyalists have already killed one mate. They can’t have another,” he gritted his teeth as he spoke.
Kingston might be angry with him, but there was no way in hell he was letting her go. She was far too precious. He wanted this conversation over and the two men gone. He was the only one who could protect her. It was his duty. His privilege even.
Mine, his Wolf pressed him and Storm closed his eyes. He counted to three. He knew that Shifters could be possessive assholes, and something inside of him admitted that he wasn’t above that.
“Storm, you need to bring her back. You cannot mate her until you explain things, and then only if she agrees. That’s an order.”
Chapter 4
Fergie’s head was pounding. What the heck happened? She’d been on her way out of that old library after having a super-not-fun time researching old land surveys. It had been late at night. No biggie there. It wasn’t like she’d had anywhere else to go.
Just home to Jessenia, her snarky as fuck roommate, and to Jeeves her fluffy, but moody rescue cat. Damn feline was going to be the death of her. Shit. She was late feeding him. He hated that. Usually paid her back with a nice surprise on her pillow.
Sigh. What time was it anyway?
“Owie,” she tried to sit up, but it felt like there were a million drums being pounded enthusiastically by a bunch of no talented musicians right inside her head.
Dang. Had she been drinking? She hadn’t felt this bad since that time Jessenia had insisted Margarita Mondays were a thing now. Fergie had jumped all over that.
Besides Margaritas were awesome and had minimal calories, unlike her favorite drink. Who knew Pina Coladas were like the whale of all alcoholic beverages in terms of caloric weight gaining potential?
Alas, she’d vowed Margarita Mondays were never to be heard from again after she’d technically lost her job at Shethler Real Estate because of one such Monday evening. That was like four or five jobs ago, but it still stung.
Crawling into work three hours late hadn’t gone over well with the slimeball Mr. Shethler or his stupid name. Yep, you guessed it. The gross middle aged man had offered her a way to make up for it, but she resigned with a hard pass.
Water under the bridge, as the saying goes. It was all good. Time had healed those wounds and she had a new job at L-Corp.
Okay, so back to the where-exactly-was-she-now part of the program. Wherever she was, this bed was super comfortable.
Mmm, she ran her hands over the silky sheets and thick, warm comforter. Definitely not hers. The ratty old blanket she’d had since college now sported several tears from too many washes. Her fingers and toes always got stuck in the darn thing.
She should replace it, but priorities. A girl had to have those. For Fergie, when it came to shoes or blankets, the former won every single time. Hands down. Speaking of her shoes.
“Owie,” she moaned again as another wave of pain hit her right between the eyes when she’d tried to sit up too fast.
“Here,” a deep voice said from very near, “easy now.”
A strong hand supported her lower back, helping her to sit up as she tried to take in her surroundings. It was dark inside the room. Really dark. But still, there was the odd sensation of being safe.
Hmm. Maybe her scare-o-meter was broken or something. She was quite certain she should be frightened waking up in a strange place with a massive headache, and feeling altogether rundown, but nope.
In fact, the big, warm hand on her back was rather soothing through the fabric of her blouse. Fergie blinked slowly and turned to look at her host. Her mouth went dry as she drank him in with her eyes.