by Juniper Hart
“That’s how you kept her here? You told her that?” he cried to Gabriel’s retreating haunches.
“She deserved to know the truth,” Gabriel said smugly without turning.
Marcel flew over the railing and pounced on him, pinning him ruthlessly to the floor with two massive front paws. Showing no restraint, he slashed his teeth against Gabriel’s snout, but in seconds, three other wolves were atop him, and the battle began.
Fur flew as howls of pain accompanied the endless scratches and bites. Marcel lost sight of Snaz, but his brain was in primal mode as the attack continued, and he fell to his fate, pinioned between the pack’s relentless battering. He was bleeding, broken, yet his rage had not fizzled, not when he was so close to finding Emily.
“I… will… relish… your… deaths,” he panted, the fight ensuing around him. The words had no effect on the mob mentality. If anything, the assault grew worse, and suddenly, a loud howl emanated through the house.
A sleek white wolf appeared in the doorway, grey eyes flashing furiously.
“The Council!” someone screamed. In seconds, the pack was gone before the white wolf could leap inside.
Through hazy, hurt eyes, Marcel tried to identify the wolf, but he was too badly hurt to understand who it was.
Snaz? he called out silently. Snaz, are you hurt?
“I’m okay,” came the pained response as the white wolf bolted through the house without a word to either one of them.
“Who is that?” Marcel mumbled. “Did you call for backup?”
“It’s me.” The wolf returned, and slowly, her shape gave away to Emily, her chest heaving in raw breaths. Marcel gasped in disbelief.
“You shifted!” he managed to choke, and she dropped to his side, concern etched in her eyes.
“You came for me,” she murmured, tears filling her luminous brown irises. “You didn’t forget about me.” Marcel shook his head laboriously. “Shh,” Emily muttered. “Don’t move. Just stay still.”
“Snaz?” She lifted her head and looked to the left. Through his peripheral vision, Marcel could see Snaz struggling to get up.
“He’s okay,” Emily assured him. “You’ll be okay, too.”
“Where did you go?”
“I was making a break for it,” she confessed. “I was hiding out in the woods when the commotion broke out, and I wanted to keep going, but something drew me back.”
Snaz crawled toward him, his face streaked with blood.
“I’m calling this in,” he mumbled, rising as he spoke. “You two could use a minute.”
Marcel could feel his body slowly beginning to heal from the abuse it had taken, and he managed to sit up and stare into Emily’s face. Snaz left the house to give them some space.
“You’re a fool,” Emily whispered, dropping her nose toward his face, and Marcel realized he had fallen back into his earthly form. He sighed and kissed the top of her head eagerly.
“Whatever Gabriel told you—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Emily interrupted, pressing her index finger to his lips. “I know how you feel about me. I wasn’t sure until I saw you flying off the rotunda onto his back. What were you thinking?” He scoffed lightly and winced at the feeling.
“What was I thinking?” he laughed mirthlessly, his blue irises burning into her face. “I was thinking that I had lost you forever to this monster, and that a mistake I’d made as a kid was going to haunt me forever. I was thinking that I failed you—all the same things I’ve been thinking since the minute you were taken.”
Emily’s lower lip quivered, and Marcel caught it with his own mouth, pulling her head toward him.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled between kisses. “Can you ever forgive me for this?” She shook her head vehemently.
“You came for me,” she insisted, her eyes wide and filled with adoration. Slowly, she slid on top of him, straddling him gently as she lowered her head again to lock their lips together. “I’ve been dreaming about this every day since I came here.”
“I never stopped looking for you,” Marcel whispered, his strength suddenly restored as a rush of heat coursed through his body. “I would never stop looking for you.” His strong arms encircled her waist, and he drove her down, feeling the mesh of their bodies through the material of their clothes. It didn’t matter that he was hurt or that Snaz might come back any minute. Nothing mattered except for the fact that he had his mate back in his arms, exactly where she belonged.
With a mounting desire, their clothes were stripped away, Emily lowering her head to kiss every bruise and gash along his solid form, her hot breath causing shivers of pleasure through him. When she finished a full examination of his frame with her butterfly kisses and gentle tongue, their mouths were once again on each other.
“I love you, Emily,” Marcel murmured. “I think I loved you the minute you broke into my school and stole me from detention.” A soft, dreamy smile touched Emily’s lips.
“Funny,” she breathed, lowering herself over him so that he filled her entirely. “I think I loved you even before that.”
Marcel’s hands braced her ribcage as he guided her up and down against his hardness, and her small cries grew louder to join his, bouncing through the destroyed foyer as they savored the joyous moment of having found one another in a world which seemed hellbent on keeping them apart.
Epilogue
Rain spilled down in droves as Emily scurried for cover under the overhang of the building, cursing her umbrella with a nasty look.
“I’d say you look good wet, Emmy, but I’d be lying,” Sammy chirped in her ear. Emily whirled, gasping.
“You really shouldn’t sneak up on women in New York,” she told him. “You’re liable to get pepper sprayed.”
“Noted,” he chuckled. “You picked a great day for this.”
“I picked the day?” she choked. “The day picked me. I hope this isn’t foreshadowing of what’s to come.”
“Nah,” Sammy replied, pulling her into a quick hug. “You’re going to knock Greg’s socks off with this. Come on.” He paused and looked around. “Where’s your worse half?”
“Marcel’s in Salem,” she answered, smiling at the characterization. “He had some business to take care of.”
Sammy cast her a sly look. “One day, you’ll have to tell me what business he’s in, exactly.”
Emily forced a look of surprise and followed him into Illumination’s headquarters’ building. “He’s a club owner. You know that.”
“Yeah, right,” Sammy scoffed as they dripped on the tile near the elevators. “A club owner who does covert operations.” Emily tensed but maintained her neutral expression.
“Why would you say that?” she asked offhandedly, even though her heart was racing.
“I’ve been in journalism long enough to have a nose for these things, Emmy. He’s hiding something—hopefully not from you.”
“He’s not hiding anything,” Emily said shortly as they boarded the elevators. “He was just worried about me when the kidnappers took me.”
“Well, all’s well that ends well, right?” Sammy said. “You got the story of the year out of that kidnapping. Maybe we didn’t get the full details on what happened with Jasper’s mistress, but hey, at least we got something.” Emily gave him a dubious look.
“A woman died, Sammy, at the hands of the same criminal gang who took me. How can you be so flip?” Embarrassment colored Sammy’s, cheeks and he lowered his head.
“I was worried sick about you,” he confessed. “Marcel fell to pieces when you went missing. You’re right; I shouldn’t have been so crass. Forgive me.”
“If you help me sell this to Greg, you’re forgiven,” she teased, wishing away the stricken look on his face. She hadn’t meant to make him feel bad, after all. She just wanted to put that part of their lives in the past.
The elevator doors opened, and the pair moved out into the inner office of the bustling magazine toward the editor-in-chief’s office.
“Well!” Greg boomed when they entered. “You look radiant, Em. The air in Salem is doing you good.”
“Maybe it’s being away from New York that’s doing her good,” Sammy chimed. Greg glared at him.
“You still look like a clown. Sammy.”
“Perfect,” Sammy replied. “That was just the look I was going for.”
“Sit down, sit down,” Greg told them. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, tea? Something with more of a bite?”
“Not for me,” Emily said quickly. “I really don’t have a lot of time to stay, but I’m really glad you agreed to meet with me, Greg.”
“Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t want to hear about this? Let me see the article.”
“Not so fast,” Emily said, sitting back. “I could have just emailed it to you, after all.”
Greg lost his jovial smile and stared at her. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because I want exclusive reporting privileges to this story,” Emily told him. “It’s mine, and I have firsthand information about this gang.” Greg started to shake his head.
“Emily, this is a great start for you, but if there is a criminal gang who has been terrorizing the western US for a decade, we need a seasoned reporter on this.”
“I was kidnapped by this gang, Greg! I would say that makes me pretty seasoned in the matter.”
“I’m sorry, Emily, but—”
“Okay,” she smiled, rising. “Thanks for your time.” She turned to leave.
“Woah! Wait a second! Where are you going?”
“I’m going to Global Ethics to see if they’re willing to accept my terms. I only came to you first because we have a history.” Emily pulled open the door.
“Emily!”
“Hm?” Greg glowered at her, and she knew she’d won.
“You’ll have to sign an exclusivity contract,” he warned her, “saying that we own the rights to the stories.”
“Sure,” she agreed. “Oh, and there’s one more thing.”
“You’re pushing your luck.”
“It’s in your best interest,” she assured him. “I’m going to be living in Oregon. They are easier to track from there.”
Greg’s mouth gaped.
“So, I’ll expect a salary,” she continued, sliding the file folder over to him. He reached for it, but she didn’t pull her fingers away. “Do we have a deal?”
“Yes. Jesus, Sammy, why did she bring you along? You’re hardly any use.”
“He’s my witness,” Emily replied lightly. “Thank you! I’ll be in touch. Let me know if you need any edits.”
“Editing is my job,” Greg growled.
“Until I come for it,” Emily joked. She ducked as he whipped a crumpled piece of paper at her head.
“Wow, Emily, that was hardcore!” Sammy squealed excitedly. “I need to hire you as my life coach.”
“Sorry, friend, my life is about to become very complicated.” Sammy arched an eyebrow.
“Oh, yeah?” he asked, a slight concern in his eyes. “Good complicated or bad complicated?”
“Oh!” Emily laughed. “Definitely good. The best kind of complicated it could be.”
Marcel was waiting for her at the pick-up when her flight landed in Portland, and he hurried out to help her with her single bag.
“I was panicked the entire time you were gone,” he confessed. “I wish you’d let me come.”
“Marcel, you once told me that I need to learn how to fight. I think I’m getting there, and I’m not going to hide from Gabriel. Although, when I think about how much grief I gave him, I doubt he’ll be coming back for me.”
“When he figures out that you’re literally following him around and casting light on all his heists, he’s going to have a bone to pick with you.”
“The stories will either give us leads to his whereabouts or force him further into hiding. In either case, it works to our advantage.”
“Not if he panics, love.” Emily could hear Marcel struggling to keep his cool, but the anxiety in his voice was obvious.
He loves you, she thought. He doesn’t want to risk losing you again, but you’re not the same girl who was trying to get a story for the school paper back then. I’ve grown, more so in the past three months than at any other point in my life. You can’t fault him for being worried.
“Desperate beings do desperate things, Emily,” Marcel said. “I don’t need to tell you that.”
“No,” she agreed, kissing his mouth. “You don’t, but I don’t want to talk about that right now. Let’s go home.”
He relented and dropped her duffle bag into the back of the car before heading out of the city toward their house on the outskirts of Salem. Marcel was quiet, and Emily reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. He laced her fingers through hers.
“Did I tell you what Gabriel intended to do when I was taken?”
Marcel’s body was as stiff as a corpse, but his voice didn’t waver.
“No,” he said. “But I heard them talking when Snaz and I came to get you.”
“I agreed to stay on as a surrogate for the pack,” she told him softly, and he closed his eyes as if to block out what she was saying. “It would have been done medically, but there were some treatments involved, shots and whatnot.”
Marcel’s jaw locked, but he didn’t respond.
“I guess that’s when it got real for me,” Emily continued, stroking his hand with the tip of her index finger. “I realized I didn’t want to do it, but it became really clear that I had only two choices: do it or die.”
“Emily, I am so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
“You were there for me,” she told him. “But I need you to listen to me.” He nodded, gulping back the lump in his throat. “The day you came, they decided they were going to do the artificial insemination process. That’s why I ran. But before I did, they injected me specific Lycan hormones to help ensure the process worked. I guess the process is slightly different with Lycans than humans.”
A small moan escaped Marcel’s mouth, though he didn’t speak, his eyes shining with tears.
“Marcel,” Emily said, squeezing his hand. “It made me very fertile.” Her words didn’t seem to register with him as he ground his teeth and focused on the road in front of them. “Did you hear me?” she asked when he remained silent.
Marcel exhaled in a whoosh. “I promise you that one day, Em, I will get my hands on Gabriel and make him pay for everything he’s done to you.”
“Marcel,” she giggled. “In this case, Gabriel gave us a gift.”
His head turned slowly, and he studied her face, presumably thinking she was joking. “A gift?”
She nodded slowly, her eyes locking with his. “It looks like a Valentine’s Day gift, actually.”
It still took several seconds before understanding colored his face.
“What?” Marcel gasped. “You’re pregnant?”
Emily nodded and laughed, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek.
“I know it’s really soon, but I’ve got this feeling about us, you know?” she teased. “Like maybe we have a future together.”
Marcel clung to her hands so tightly, her bones almost cracked. Still, Emily felt nothing other than pulsating energy surging through his body as he clung to her hand.
“Em, we’ve got eternity together,” he breathed. “Don’t ever forget that.”
“I won’t,” she replied. “I’m looking forward to every minute.” She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it sweetly, relishing the feel of his skin against hers.
And Emily finally knew what it meant to be unbelievably, truly happy.
The Guardian
Alpha Protectors
1
Alex tilted Audrey’s head back up so that his loving gaze locked on hers.
“I’ve never loved anyone more than you, Stacey. From the first moment I saw you, standing in the sand, the waves crashing at your feet, wind blowing up your hair into a dysenter
y—” He paused and looked nonplussed as her lips twitched.
Don’t laugh, she thought. It will only embarrass him. Don’t laugh…
“Disarray,” he corrected himself, looking around nervously. “I meant disarray.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Alex! Cut!” the director, Mike Atkins, snapped, jumping from his chair. He stalked onto the set as Audrey burst into peals of laughter, her cerulean eyes wet with amusement. It was too much to keep inside.
“I don’t know why I keep doing that!” Alex grumbled, disentangling himself out of his co-star’s arms. Audrey let him go, trying to collect herself before he was further humiliated.
“Because you’re a redneck from Alabama,” Mike snapped. “You can’t tell the difference between a disease and a state of disorganization.”
“In all fairness,” Audrey snickered, “dysentery can be very messy, what with all those bowel movements.”
“Ha, ha, hilarious. Take fifteen and get yourselves together. I can’t waste one more take on this nonsense. Alex, learn your lines.” Mike was incensed, and Audrey’s sense of humor did nothing to alleviate his anger. The tall actor shot the slender redhead standing before him an apologetic look.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, but she waved dismissively and leaned in closer.
“Between you and me,” Audrey breathed, “your lines are far more entertaining than the tripe on the script. I can’t believe some of the lines in this.” She waved the manuscript in hand for effect. Alex gave her a grateful smile and shuffled toward the catering cart for a bottle of water.
“Don’t encourage him,” Mike barked at her when Alex had ambled out of earshot. “It only makes him think you like him and that he’s doing fine.”
“You cast him,” Audrey reminded the director, who scowled at her words.
“The public loves him. It’s not my fault he’s pretty but dumb. That’s what America thrives upon these days. Idiots. Haven’t you noticed?” Audrey frowned slightly.
“He’s not dumb,” she corrected firmly. “He’s just overwhelmed. No one walks into this business knowing what they’re doing. I sure as hell didn’t.”