Guardian's Mate

by Jennifer Ashley

  Not that she’d ever tell him she watched his broad shoulders and sway of his back as he vanished below. She’d never, ever let him know that. Or that his gaze held hers whenever she looked at him as much as she struggled to pull away. Or that she liked the contrast between the very white hair on his head with his trim dark beard.

  Never tell him. He’d laugh and call her Little Wolf again, dismissing the interest of a messed-up woman who wasn’t much more than a cub.

  Rae sighed and followed him below with her cleaned plate, pretending she didn’t feel a shiver when he turned around and grinned at her.

  * * *

  Zander helped Rae clean up from breakfast, then he shooed her out of the cabin to the stern deck, the only place there’d be room to train. High time she started learning something. The sooner he had her trained up, the sooner Eoin could come back and fetch her, leaving Zander once more in blissful solitude.

  That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? He could wave good-bye to Rae, never again seeing her gray eyes, sweet body, lips he could have kissed when she’d leaned to him and pressed her hand to his chest.

  His heart had sped like a rocket. Her dark hair had fallen over her shoulder, a pucker creasing her forehead as she laid her palm on his breastbone. Rae’s face had been close to his, her eyes focused, lips parted. Only Zander’s hellaciously good self-control had kept him from sliding his hand behind her neck and easing her down to kiss her mouth.

  Yep, training couldn’t start fast enough. Zander preferred living alone but that didn’t mean he was a monk. He had needs and Rae was a beautiful, desirable young woman.

  Zander grabbed a few weapons of his own from a cupboard and followed Rae outside. The sun was high, the sky clear blue, and the boat rocked gently on the waves. A perfect day to sit around and fish, contemplate the universe—basically do nothing.

  He briefly considered going along with Rae’s idea—heading to Anchorage to find some place for her to stay, leaving her there, forgetting about her.

  Then he saw Rae. She’d stripped out of her sweater to reveal a tight, ribbed tank top that smoothed over her breasts and left her arms bare. Her dark braid swung against the white top as she struggled to unsheathe the Sword of the Guardian.

  Goddess, Zander couldn’t leave her alone in the world. She was out of her depth, had no idea what to do with the new magic raging inside her.

  Rae wouldn’t feel it raging, exactly, but she was different now. One couldn’t be Goddess-touched and ever be the same again.

  The tip of the sword snagged on the sheath. Rae lost hold of the big hilt and the sword fell forward and clattered to the deck. As she wrung her hand and muttered swear words, Zander stooped over and retrieved the sword.

  “No!” Rae cried, lunging for him. “It’ll burn you!”

  Zander looked at the sword in his hand. The hilt rested easily in his palm, runes shimmering in the sunlight, but nothing happened.

  He shrugged, handed the sword to the gaping Rae hilt-first, and slid off his boots and socks, then his coat and sweater. He rolled his shoulders, bared by the gray muscle shirt he wore underneath.

  “It doesn’t like anyone touching it but me,” Rae said, her eyes wide as she gingerly clasped the hilt.

  The sword didn’t seem heavy for her. Rae held it as though it had almost no weight but Zander had felt its pull. It was a hefty sword but Rae wasn’t bowed by it. The thing must truly like her.

  “Creepy,” Zander said.

  “That’s what I think. My dad tried to hold it for me after the Choosing and it burned his hand. Everyone’s scared of it. And of me.”

  “Shifters.” Zander waved them away. “Bunch of superstitious sticks-up-their-asses.”

  “Says the man with Goddess powers who lives alone on a boat.” Rae set the tip of the sword on the deck and rested her hands on the hilt.

  Yep, if she came for him when it was his time to go, Zander didn’t think he’d mind. Her ribbed tank top hugged her curves, her hips were soft under her jeans, and sunlight touched her smooth face and the eyes he knew he’d never be able to get out of his mind.

  To think, the Shifters in her Shiftertown had driven her away. What total dumb-asses.

  “You need to learn to hold it,” Zander said, trying to tamp down the thoughts stirring inside him. Long twilit evenings, Rae next to me in the bed below, the boat rocking as the setting sun trickles through the windows.

  Zander cleared his throat and lifted the sheathed sword he’d brought out for himself, one with no magic at all, as far as he could tell.

  Rae watched him. “Explain to me who I’m going to be fighting with a sword?”

  Zander shrugged. “You never know. The Fae still use them. They charge out of their world from time to time, trying to do whatever shit they take it into their heads to do. They have swords that control the Collars—did you know that?” Zander jerked his finger at the Collar around Rae’s neck.

  The black and silver of it gleamed against her skin, enhancing her instead of detracting.

  “I know,” Rae said. “My dad explained it to us.”

  The Fae had, twenty or so years ago, had a hand in making the Collars that the human government put around the neck of every Shifter they could round up. Since that time, the Fae had been crafting magic swords that worked to activate the Collars when they were near a Shifter, thus rendering whatever Shifter they pleased in horrific pain.

  The Fae hadn’t yet burst out of Faerie waving their magic swords, but everyone knew they would someday. Shifters with Collars were now working, in secret, to take off the Collars and replace them with fakes so the humans would be none the wiser. The cubs and Shifters far down the hierarchy already had replacements, but it took time. The secret of removing the Collars painlessly was an influx of Fae gold, which was rare and hard to obtain. Their supply, given to Shifters by a Fae who actually wasn’t a total bastard, was small.

  Zander had never worn a Collar and wasn’t about to start now. The Shifters he’d visited in Austin had tried to get him to wear a fake so he could avoid arrest if someone realized he was Shifter, but Zander couldn’t bring himself to try even that. The touch of the metal did something to him—sucked out his soul maybe. He didn’t know.

  As nice as Rae looked in her Collar, Zander would love to see her out of it. The symbol of her captivity bothered him a lot.

  “So,” he said, balancing himself on his bare feet. “Say a Fae gate opens in the middle of the ocean and I, a crazed Fae, spring through it. What do you do?”

  Zander drew his sword with a whoosh of steel. Sunlight flashed on the blade that he kept polished in honor of the man who’d bequeathed it to him.

  Rae started to lift her sword, holding it all wrong, then her eyes narrowed. “I don’t think the Fae carry samurai swords.”

  Zander moved the sword in front of him, the blade perfectly balanced. “Maybe not.”

  “Where did you get it?” Rae asked with curiosity, but she also had a teasing light in her eyes. “A souvenir shop?”

  “No, from a samurai,” Zander said. “He was a friend. He left his swords to me when he died.”

  “Oh.” Rae flushed. “I’m sorry.”

  “He was a good guy. A Shifter. I saved his life once and then when he was dying of old age, he sent for me and gave me the swords for safekeeping. He didn’t have anyone in his pack left alive and he didn’t want humans getting hold of them.”

  Rae lowered the sword, looking interested in his story. “There are Shifters in Japan?”

  “Not as many as there were. Harder to hide these days—most have come to the States. But yeah, there are Shifters in Japan. Bears in the north and some wolves in the mountains. This guy was Lupine.” Zander raised the sword again, holding it with perfect steadiness. “There are Shifters all over the world. It’s called diaspora.”

  Rae’s brows went up. “Ooh, the bear knows the big words.”

  “Pay attention, smart-ass.”

  Zander tapped the end of her bla
de. Rae raised the sword clumsily, but not as clumsily as he would have thought. She’d either been practicing or it was helping her.

  “Like this,” he said.

  He stepped to her and showed her how his sword rested loosely in his grip, his fingers light, his thumb rotated toward the outer part of his arm.

  “Keep your wrist flexible but not too loose, straight but not stiff,” he said. “It’s not like in the movies where they hold the swords like clubs and go clang, clang, chop, chop. A good swordsman can do anything with his sword. Peel a grape if he wants to.”

  Rae tried to copy his hold, his stance. “I don’t think I could hit a grape with this thing. Or even a cantaloupe.”

  “It takes practice. Get used to the weight of the blade, the momentum when you swing it. Eventually it will become an extension of your arm—you’ll feel what it feels.”

  Zander took a step to his left, reached out with his blade, and hooked Jake the Snake, who’d slithered out from his box in the wheelhouse, over the blunt side.

  Rae took a step back, bringing the sword up in a perfect defensive move.

  Zander’s amusement rose as he set Jake on his other wrist. “You’re a Shifter who grew up in the woods. A snake scares you?”

  “The snakes in the woods are rattlers, all different kinds of them. I keep a respectful distance.”

  “Respect.” Zander turned away. “Is that what you’re calling it these days?” He stepped quickly into the wheelhouse and returned Jake to his box. “Sorry, guy. She’ll come around, don’t worry.”

  Zander made sure Jake was comfy and came out to the deck again, shutting the door behind him.

  “Let’s do some swings,” Zander said. “Controlled,” he growled as Rae whirled the sword at her side.

  Rae scowled in frustration. “I can’t help it. I think it wants to play.”

  “Great. A piece of metal with ADHD.”

  Zander gave a moment of thanks that the samurai had been a Shifter without any Goddess magic, just a regular guy who happened to be a perfectly trained warrior. The Lupine’s entire clan had been samurai over the centuries, the people around them completely unaware they were Shifters. Or at least, if the villagers had guessed, they’d never betrayed them.

  “I’ll put you through some drills,” Zander said. “Maybe that will calm it down.”

  He showed her some easy moves, a block, a lunge, a parry. Rae learned them quickly. She had the litheness of a Feline even though she was wolf—maybe all those years of living with Felines had rubbed off on her.

  “Keep your elbows soft, not stiff,” Zander said as they lunged again. “Locked elbows means the sword can be yanked from your grip, like this.”

  Zander turned around and struck out, the move abrupt. Rae brought her sword up in a clumsy parry, though not an incompetent one. Zander’s sword met hers. Rae twisted to take the blow, but as Zander had said, her arms were too stiff.

  The sword snapped out of Rae’s grip. It flew astonishingly high into the air, flipping end over end, the blade flashing in the strong sunlight.

  As they watched, it came down, down, down, missed the deck, and plunged straight into the ocean off the starboard side. As one, Zander and Rae rushed to the rail, hitting it at the same time.

  A few bubbles boiled on the surface of the water as the sword swiftly sank, and then it was gone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Shit!” Panic burned Rae’s chest. She grabbed the railing, desperately searching the water, then started to climb over, every instinct making her want to heave herself after the sword.

  Zander hauled her back with strong arms. He released her with a suddenness that made her stumble and then launched himself over the boat’s side in a perfect swan dive.

  “Zander—no!” Rae rushed to the railing, clinging to it as she peered over.

  Nothing but blue-black water and streaks of foam met her eyes. Empty ocean under empty sky.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  Zander would die down there—that water was frigid. Even a Shifter couldn’t survive it.

  Rae frantically tugged at the life preserver lashed to the side of the wheelhouse. She’d throw it onto the water, for all the good it would do, then call 911. She wasn’t sure what good that would do either. The boat must have some kind of distress signal mechanism in the pilot house, but how she’d figure out which button did what, she didn’t have a clue.

  The stupid life preserver wouldn’t come free—damn it. Rae knew she hadn’t dropped the sword—it had jerked itself from her grasp. She’d heard a faint, silvery tone, as though the sword had been laughing.

  The water where Zander had gone in began to roil. Rae pushed herself from the life preserver and ran to the side again. Below her, foam churned, bubbles hissing.

  The head of a giant polar bear abruptly broke the waves, his ears flat, eyes open, the Sword of the Guardian clenched firmly between his big teeth.

  The polar bear’s body followed. The great beast, its white fur sodden, catapulted from the water, its torso rising above the side of the boat. The sword clattered to the deck as the bear let it go.

  Great black paws scrabbled on the railing, the small boat listing heavily, then the bear lost his hold and slipped back down under the water.

  Before Rae could run for the life preserver again, Zander in human form broke the surface. He grabbed the railing with hard hands, got one bare foot on the gunwale, and heaved himself over the side, landing on his feet.

  He stood dripping on the deck, his chest rising with his heavy breath. His bare, wet body glistened, sunlight picking out a chain tattoo around his biceps, another around his ankle.

  Zander was a big man, hard all over, everything in proportion. Including . . . Rae couldn’t stop her gaze falling to his cock, which hung thick and long. The rest of him—arms, thighs, shoulders, pecs—were worth looking at too. The water darkened his hair, making his beard black and the hair at his phallus just as black.

  Zander shook himself like a dog, showering Rae with freezing water. Rae thrust up her hands and shrieked and Zander started laughing.

  She liked his laugh, a deep rumble that vibrated the air. Zander put his hands on his hips, naked to the sky and wind, unashamed and unafraid.

  Rae leaned down and retrieved the sword. “Thank you,” she said shakily.

  “It wasn’t going to let you lose it that easy.” Zander swiped his hands down his arms, dislodging water that rained to the deck. “It was floating six feet under the surface, waiting for me. Stupid hunk of metal.”

  The sword flashed, runes dancing, as though it teased them.

  “Enough for today,” Zander said. “Keep practicing holding it and finding your footing. I’m not going in that water after it again. Brr.” He shuddered.

  While he stood there, robust and obviously not dead, his skin was rising in gooseflesh and his lips were going blue.

  Rae laid the sword on the bench and pointed at the cabin. “Inside. You need to dry off. Now.”

  Zander’s dark eyes widened. “Yeah? You boss around your dad, a Shiftertown leader, like that?”

  “Yes.” Rae put her hands on her hips. “Go!”

  “All right, all right. Pushy.”

  Zander took his time sauntering to the stairs to the cabin. This let Rae see his tight backside brushed with water, another chain tattoo on the small of his back.

  By the time Rae unstuck herself and followed him below, Zander had already opened a cupboard and pulled out a towel. Rae pushed around him and grabbed a fleece blanket off the bed. The towel Zander had produced might be large for humans but it was like a washcloth for a bear-man like Zander.

  Rae draped the blanket across his shoulders. Zander caught it and wrapped it around his body and wiped his chest with the towel. “Thanks,” he said.

  Rae stepped back so she’d break the temptation to touch him—help him dry his back, his shoulders, his chest . . . “Why aren’t you dead?” she demanded. “I mean, I’m glad you’re not, but I thoug
ht I’d be calling my dad and having you fished out to be sent to dust. Or maybe never finding you again.”

  Her teeth chattered on the last words and she clenched her mouth shut.

  Zander’s face softened as he lifted one damp hand to touch her cheek. “Don’t worry, Little Wolf. I swim out here all the time. If I shift to polar bear, I can take the cold.”

  “Real bears have layers of fat to keep cold out. You don’t have any fat.” Rae poked a finger at his rib cage under the blanket. There was no give anywhere.

  “I do when I’m a polar bear,” Zander answered in a reasonable tone. “Everything shifts into the best of us in either form. The Goddess knew what she was doing.”

  “The Fae made us, not the Goddess,” Rae pointed out. “The Fae dinked with genetic coding and gave us a hefty dose of magic. Shifters aren’t natural.”

  Any amusement fled Zander’s face. “Who the hell told you that? Is that what you start believing, living Collared in Shiftertowns?” He flicked his fingers across the Collar on her throat.

  His hands should be cold from his dive into Arctic waters but Zander’s touch held heat that tingled across the links of her Collar. Fires ran all the way down inside her, stirring something to life.

  “Isn’t it true?” Rae asked, trying to pretend she wasn’t melting. “The Fae made Shifters to fight battles for them.”

  “Sure, but Goddess magic runs strong in the Fae. If the Goddess decided to let them ‘dink’ with genetics, as you call it, she made sure we were made to be the best of her creatures.”

  Rae backed a step. “Please don’t tell me you’re a Goddess fanatic. Burning offerings every full moon, chanting over talismans, believing that every single thing you think was planted in your head by the Goddess?”

  Zander gave her a look of amazement. “What the hell kind of people do you live with, Little Wolf? First of all, there’s nothing wrong with burning offerings every full moon. It’s respectful. Second, the talismans are to impress the humans, and third, the Goddess gave us free will to think what we want.”