Dragon Protectors: Shifter Romance Collection

by Lola Gabriel

  “Your Worship!” the other lawyer grunted, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “I am willing to account for my counterpart’s lack of experience in a South African court, but this is hardly the place to be trying the facts of the case. May we stick to the matter of bail, please? It’s stifling, and I have another dozen cases to get through today!”

  Titus swallowed a smile, knowing the long-winded questioning was his brother’s way of bringing the prosecutor to break.

  “My apologies again,” Anders replied. “Ms. Pinot, you are a citizen of what country?”

  “The United States.”

  “And why are you in South Africa?”

  “It was a dream to come see this country,” Arabella answered, “to go backpacking, but I ran out of money, and I…” She inhaled shakily.

  “And now you’re in jail?” Anders finished. “You’re broke, alone, and rotting alone in a jail cell?”

  “Yeah,” Arabella sighed. “I suppose that’s about it.”

  “Your Worship, I would say the matter of bail is settled. She has no ties to the community, no family, no job, and absolutely no reason to stay. Please don’t grant bail in this matter!” the prosecuting attorney scoffed, rolling her eyes as if Anders was the worst lawyer she’d ever seen.

  “On the contrary, Your Worship!” Anders cried. “My brother is here as her guarantor, ready to post any amount of bail you deem appropriate while assuring her court appearances.”

  “Your brother?” the opposing counsel snorted. “Another American with no ties?”

  “You will address me, Ms. Botha,” the judge snapped before turning his attention back to Anders. “As entertaining as I may find you, Mr. Williams, I have to say I agree with the prosecutor in this matter. What could your brother possibly offer us in the way of peace of mind?”

  “I’m glad you asked, sir. May I present my brother?” Anders turned and waved for Titus to stand.

  This is going to be really bad for publicity when it gets out, Titus thought wryly as he rose.

  “Your Worship,” Anders continued, “this is my brother and fixture of the community, Titus Williams. You may be familiar with his world-renowned company, Williams Technology?”

  There was a murmur of shock through the room as all eyes fell on Titus.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been stared at so blatantly more than I have in the past three days, he thought, suddenly feeling self-conscious. First Trina and Kamil, now the rest of Port Elizabeth. Just wait until the press hears about this. Then the board is really going to be pissed.

  “Of course,” the judge choked. “Welcome, Mr. Williams. I didn’t immediately make the connection.” Titus offered him a tight smile. “Titus Williams, is this true? Do you intend to ensure Ms. Pinot appears for her court dates and post her bail?”

  “Yes, Your Worship. She will stay at my compound in St. Francis Bay, and she will remain supervised,” Titus replied. “It is a very secure location.”

  The chief of justice glanced at the prosecutor, who stared at Titus with awe.

  “Ms. Botha,” he said, “have you any further concerns?” She seemed unable to catch her breath and shook her dark head, biting on her lower lip. “I am setting bail at one million rand. Cash. Next case.”

  Titus remained standing as Arabella’s eyes widened in shock. Anders waved her down, and she rose slowly, as if she didn’t know where she was. Titus moved to join them, his steely gray eyes locking on hers.

  “What just happened?” she gasped. “I’m getting out?”

  Anders nodded, snapping his briefcase shut. “You’re going to stay with Titus until they set your court date,” he explained, glancing warily at his brother. “Is that all right with you?”

  Arabella didn’t seem to know what to say, her gaze still fixed on Titus.

  She does feel the connection, Titus thought. She does!

  “Well put it this way,” Anders continued as the bailiff came to collect her. “You better be okay with it, or you’re going back to prison. It could be months before a trial—”

  “I’m okay! I’m okay!” Arabella cried as she was being led away, but her stare never wavered away from Titus. “How long will it be?”

  “We’re taking care of it right now,” Anders assured her, grabbing Titus by the arm and leading him out of the stifling courtroom. When they were finally forced to break their eyes away from each other, Titus felt a deep stabbing loss in his gut.

  “Will she be out today?” he asked. “She’s not staying in there another night, is she?”

  Anders snickered. “She’ll be out of there in the next ten minutes. They don’t want to piss you off, Tito. You’re half the economy of the city.”

  Titus had never considered what kind of influence he might have on the legal system. In seven decades, he had evaded all problems with the law somehow, keeping his books on the up and up, paying his taxes and treating his employees well. He was one of the only honest businessmen he knew.

  And now I’m harboring a kidnapper and embezzler, he thought.

  As he followed Anders toward the purser’s office, he felt a pang of shame. After all, he didn’t know Arabella’s story, and she reminded him so much of Isabella. It was difficult to reconcile that the woman he had once loved so deeply, the woman he had planned to marry and start a family with, could be capable of such crimes.

  “What did I tell you?” Anders chuckled, pointing straight ahead, where Arabella stood a few feet away from them. “There she is, all ready to go! I think they bypassed the cells altogether and brought her right out here.”

  “Go take care of the paperwork,” Titus instructed. “Here’s a check for one million rand.”

  His brother did as he was told, but Titus barely noticed, his irises locking on Arabella’s iridescent eyes. He didn’t feel his feet touching the floor as they moved closer, the spark of electricity between them intensifying.

  “Hi,” she breathed shakily once he was standing in front of her. “I—I don’t know how to thank you for what you guys did. I don’t have any money, but if I ever get home, I can send you some monthly until it’s all paid back.”

  Titus smiled, his heart swelling.

  That’s something my Bella would say, he thought wistfully, searching her smooth cheeks for any noticeable differences, but from where he stood, she was his lover in modern clothes, scared and in need of his help.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” Titus said gruffly. “Anders will meet us outside.”

  “Wait!” Her palm reached for his arm, and he turned. “How do I know you?” she asked softly. “Why are you doing this?”

  Titus swallowed the rise of emotion in his throat, and he wanted to seize her, to crush his mouth to hers, to envelope her body to his. He longed to tell her how. once upon a time, they had loved one another with such unadulterated passion that being in the same room and being unable to touch was physically painful. He wanted her to know that he dreamt about her every night for the hundreds of years they were apart, often waking in cold sweats when he remembered it was his fault she was no longer at his side.

  “Titus, I don’t understand,” Arabella whispered, and Titus shook his head.

  “There is nothing to understand,” he told her softly. “It is just meant to be. Don’t you feel it?”

  Her rosebud mouth parted, and he was instantly back in the turret, watching her as she comforted the scared children before the fiery battle that had claimed her.

  Arabella nodded slowly, a small smile forming on her lips.

  “Yeah,” she answered quietly. “I… I do feel something. What do you think it is?”

  Titus smiled through his conflicting grief and elation.

  “It’s fate.”

  7

  Ara wasn’t sure how she should be feeling, but she was certain that instantly at ease was not the appropriate reaction for being swept away by a stranger to live in a remote compound on the southern cape.

  Still, it didn’t matter was she was suppos
ed to be experiencing. All she knew was that her feelings were something far beyond gratitude, deeper than appreciation for Titus and Anders for rescuing her from certain hell in prison.

  Ara could not shake the quickly mounting sensation that she had known Titus for a long, long while, and despite being sure she had never been in the gated estate where she was free to roam and explore, she could not stop herself from wondering about her benefactor.

  Everyone has heard of Williams Technology, she reasoned. That’s probably where I’ve seen him before. And Anders Williams is one of the hottest criminal defense attorneys in the world. No one has a license to practice law in more countries than that man.

  But she still couldn’t help thinking there was more to the story than that.

  It didn’t explain why, when she looked into Titus’ eyes, she was overcome with a sense of déjà vu so strong that it almost knocked her to the ground. It didn’t account for the flood of memories that threatened to drown her but never took shape as they teased the recesses of her mind.

  Of course, Titus was nowhere around to question him further on their almost subliminal connection. He had disappeared just after they returned to the compound, leaving Ara to wander through the twenty-thousand-square-foot estate.

  “Are you hungry, Ms. Pinot?”

  Ara jumped at the unexpected voice behind her, and she spun to see a pleasant-faced woman smiling at her.

  “You startled me!” she gasped, realizing that the woman must be a member of the house staff.

  “I’m Marta,” she offered.

  “Ara.” They stared awkwardly at one another for a moment, and Marta cleared her throat.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked again, and Ara blushed. She nodded in response, and Marta appeared relieved. “Come with me to the kitchen.” She turned to leave, and Ara followed, calling out after her.

  “Where is Titus?”

  The housekeeper seemed to pause mid-step and then continue.

  “He’s working in his garage,” she said slowly. “He’s asked me to attend to you if there’s anything you need.”

  I need to talk to him, Ara thought, but she decided to keep her request to herself. “Thank you.”

  The women wove through the maze of halls through a section of the house that Ara hadn’t yet seen.

  “This place is enormous,” she muttered, more to herself than to Marta, but her companion chuckled dryly.

  “You’ll get used to it,” she replied. “There’s a method to its madness. Tito built it himself.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, he designed it himself. He’s got quite an eye for that kind of thing.”

  Ara nodded, even though she knew Marta could not see her. What does one man do with so much space? Does he have a family? Children?

  Eventually, Marta led her into a commercial grade kitchen at the back of the house, and Ara blinked at the blinding stainless steel and massive equipment. She didn’t know what half the appliances on the metal island were for, but the aroma of food wafting into her nose deterred her from thinking about anything else.

  The last thing she had eaten was something supposed to resemble oats slapped onto a plastic tray through her jail cell that morning. Whatever it was that sat beneath the covered pans on the restaurant-sized stove smelled at least a billion times better, and Ara inadvertently began to salivate.

  “I hope you like boerewors,” Marta said. “I just pulled them off the grill.”

  Ara licked her lips as Marta lifted the lids, and the scent of the spiced sausage almost overwhelmed her.

  “Yes,” she muttered, even though she wasn’t sure she did. Nothing that smells that good can taste bad, she decided.

  The sharp yap of a dog broke her attention, and a blond border collie hurried into the room, his tail wagging.

  “Oh!” Ara cried. “Who is this?”

  “Janus,” Marta growled, eyeing the sneaky canine as he licked Ara’s hand.

  She leaned down to pat the dog, who shook with happiness at the attention.

  “Hi, Janus,” she murmured. Any man who owns dogs can’t be bad, she thought, and she wondered where she had come to that conclusion. Her father had two Rottweilers and they were as miserable as he was. “There’s nothing miserable about you, is there, Janus?” she whispered.

  “Did you say something?” Marta called, and Ara straightened herself, embarrassed.

  “Can I help?” she asked timidly.

  Marta glanced up at her in surprise. “No, nunu. Just sit and relax. After you eat, I can take you to your room to rest, or you can continue to find your way around. There is lots to do here. We have a basketball court, a library, bowling lanes, and even a movie theater. It looks like you might have a companion in Janus also.”

  Ara’s eyes widened. She had come across the impossibly big library with the baby grand piano and the rows upon rows of books in the strangely circular room in her exploration. In fact, she had stood in the doorway, gaping at the two stone fireplaces, marveling at the hand-carved banisters leading up toward the dome skylight.

  Ara had been afraid to go inside, lest she ruin the ethereal beauty of it. The room was bigger than any library she had ever been inside, even back home. It was mindboggling that it belonged in a house.

  This is not a house, she reminded herself. This is a castle. A palace with a bowling alley and movie theater, apparently. A castle that Titus Williams built.

  Slowly, she sat at a glass and wrought iron table away from the center of the kitchen, her eyes skipping over the pristine surroundings.

  “How many people live here?” she asked, hoping her question did not sound too nosy. I can’t help it! I don’t understand any of it! I have a right to know what I got myself into!

  Even from the distance between them, Ara read the smile on Marta’s face.

  “There are only three of us,” she answered. “Tito, Solomon, and me. Solomon is the driver and landscaper. And handyman. And pool boy.” Marta paused for a second, a faraway look in her dark eyes, as if she suddenly realized just how much Solomon did around the estate. She shrugged and turned back to the food preparations. “And I have extra help come in once a week to do a massive clean of the baseboards and cupboards, things like that.”

  Marta laid an overflowing plate before Ara, and she was almost dizzy by the scent. For a terrifying moment, she thought she might pass out.

  “Are you okay?” Marta asked, alarm in her voice. “You just turned gray!”

  Ara nodded quickly. “I haven’t eaten properly in a few days,” she confessed, eyeing the food warily. She wanted to inhale the bun whole, but she feared her stomach would reject it.

  As if sensing her reluctance, Marta hurried to get her a glass of water. “Small bites,” she encouraged, giving Ara the cup. “With sips of water in between. If I had known how poorly they treated you in the jail, I would have made something lighter.”

  There was anger in Marta’s voice, and Ara understood that the housekeeper knew exactly who she was: a parolee whom her boss had rescued like a stray cat.

  Maybe that’s his thing. Maybe Janus was a stray dog once, too, she mused silently. She chided herself for thinking so fatalistically, but she desperately wanted to understand how she had come to be there and why.

  “Oh, no!” Ara protested, feeling ashamed that she was being read as ungrateful. “This is wonderful.”

  Marta watched her as she tentatively picked up the roll and took a bite, chewing delicately. The pork and coriander melted on her tongue, and Ara released a groan of pleasure.

  “Oh, my God,” she muttered. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.”

  A smile of amusement exploded over Marta’s face, and she turned away, satisfied. “Good! Eat only as much as you can handle. If you are hungry later, there is plenty of food.”

  As the nourishment filled her belly, a sense of comfort enveloped Ara’s exhausted body.

  It’s okay to relax, she told herself. You’re safe here. No o
ne is coming after you in Titus Williams’ house.

  Ara raised her head to ask Marta another question, but the housekeeper had disappeared, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She was already full, half the sandwich remaining, and she felt guilty about leaving it.

  Her father’s voice somehow echoed through her mind.

  “You think we’re made of money, Arabella? Eat your goddamn pork and beans!”

  Inevitably, Ara’s eyes would travel to his half-empty mickey of whiskey before darting back to her mushy dinner, and she would slowly force the canned horror into her queasy gut. Later, she would throw it all up, but not until after her father passed out.

  There was always money for whiskey and oxy, she recalled. Never money for pancakes and bananas.

  Ara shoved the memories away and rose from the table. There was no one there to give her grief about leaving the table with the food half-eaten. In fact, she had been encouraged to wander around.

  It was foreign—all of it.

  Like a curious yet scared cat, she ventured toward the back doors, peering into the bright afternoon sunlight. Janus remained on her heels, happily bouncing along as if he wanted to play tour guide. Ara was happy for his furry companionship.

  Where she stood, the air conditioning made her momentarily forget about the smoldering heat outside. Still, Ara was suddenly curious about what else the grounds held, and she pushed her way out into the almost suffocating humidity.

  This isn’t much different than the smoggiest days in San Francisco, she thought, except I don’t feel pollution filling my lungs with each step I take.

  She slipped over the back deck, around the side of the kitchen and again, then stopped in her tracks as her vivid eyes tried to take in the opulence of what she was seeing: a two-tiered swimming pool sat above a slight hill, the smaller one pouring endlessly into the larger one like a waterfall.

  It seemed to go on as far as her eyes could see, but when she raised her head, Ara could just make out the shape of a hot tub over the curve of the slope, and without realizing it, her legs had carried her further toward the sight.

  As she ventured along the edge, she noticed a small pond off to the side, and when she approached it, a cabin appeared abruptly from behind the line of trees.