Bulletproof Damsel

by Amelia Hutchins

  “Indeed. Remington is her daughter.”

  “The coloring is wrong. Is it dyed?” a man asked. I remained on the floor, staring at Rhys’s feet as they talked about me like I was some rare creature he’d found in the pet store.

  “Natural. A rare occurrence maybe, or designed to hide in plain sight. I don’t know yet. Remington took down Laura like she was child’s play, and you and I both know she isn’t. She is powerful and very deadly. And she’s mine now,” Rhys stated, and I lifted my eyes, glaring at him.

  I was so not sleeping with him tonight.

  “Can we eat now? It’s been a very long time since we’ve had everyone here,” Nyota whined, and Rhys bent down as if to help me up.

  I forwent his offered hand, getting to my feet as pain moved up my spine. I reached behind my arm, feeling stickiness as I dropped my hand, kneeling to remove the broken heels while everyone watched.

  “Remi,” Rhys groaned, touching my shoulder.

  “Get the fuck off of me,” I snapped, glaring at him. “I can manage to get my shoes off, believe it or not, Van Helsing. I did manage to live without you for twenty-one years, and I could have made it to my ascending without you too.” I removed the heels, stepping through the crowd of Van Helsings to walk down the stairs, feeling his angry glare on my spine as I ignored him.

  And to think, I’d almost had sex with him! I was nothing more than leverage to wield against his enemies and sit his ass upon some legendary throne of immortals. I was an idiot to come here. In hindsight, I’d had good intentions, but my execution left a lot to be desired. I had just turned twenty-one the week before coming home, and with how things were going, I would be lucky if it weren’t my last.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I pushed the food around my plate as the Van Helsings studied me like I was some freak they couldn’t stop gawking over. I kept glancing toward Nyx to make sure I hadn’t grown another head, but she was the only one not looking at me. Rhys snorted, and I slid my stare toward him for a moment before dismissing him.

  “Do you know what burning human flesh smells like?” one of the brothers asked, and I lifted my eyes, finding the question directed at me.

  “Intimately, yes,” I replied, setting down my fork to reach for the whiskey, downing it as a server raced to refill the glass. “Why? Would you like to set me on fire? It might not end as you’d hope. I’m willing to allow you to try if you’d like. It matters little to me which option you choose.”

  “You think I wouldn’t set you on fire?” he countered, studying my face.

  “That isn’t what I said,” I stated dismissively. Picking up my fork, I continued pushing around the food that was now little more than mush.

  They’d served plates of steaming hot food that, at any other time, I’d have devoured. I didn’t enjoy being the focus of the table, or that they were all exuding vibes that stated how badly they wanted me dead. It was causing my stomach to turn, and an uneasy feeling was rolling through me. I’d also been drinking on an empty stomach, which made me tired and bitchy.

  “Let’s go outside and try it, shall we?” he offered, and I stood, only for Rhys to grab my arm, pulling me back into my chair.

  “Let’s not set her on fire, okay?” he grunted, never pulling his eyes from me.

  “She’s passingly pretty. However, she lacks the silver coloring of the Silversmiths that made them beautiful,” another brother stated, but which one I didn’t know because I’d given up caring or paying attention to names. “Remington. What a boyish name. Maybe they named her such because of her rust coloring?” he continued.

  “I don’t know. I find it fitting for a mythical gunsmith to name her daughters after those with less ability than she has,” Nyota said, and almost complimented my mother.

  “You haven’t touched your food,” Rhys pointed out, and I turned to look at him blankly.

  “Between being thrown against a wall and having your family try to murder me repeatedly, I seem to have lost my appetite. One of your brothers wants to set me on fire. Another thinks I’m passingly pretty and have a horrid name. The others are wondering how to fuck me before you get to me and breed my womb because you all think it holds some kind of mythical tether to my silver talent. You’re parading me around like I’m some fucking trophy, and you think I’d still have an appetite. Why?” I asked pointedly, glaring at him. “Oh, let’s not forget that I almost let you into my vagina tonight, too. Not that it will be happening now. I’d rather fuck the sword I made you than let you touch me again tonight. So, there’s that.”

  Cole choked on his liquor as the others watched Rhys to see what he would do. My fingers tapped the table, something I knew bothered him. I waited for Rhys to do something, anything other than stare at me with his pretty stupid eyes.

  “Eat,” he demanded coldly.

  I reached for my whiskey, downing it as the server moved closer. Rhys shook his head at the server who veered away from the glass he’d been about to refill. He pushed my plate closer, and I shoved it away. He continued until I lifted it, tossing it over my head to smirk as it shattered against the wall.

  “You’re acting childish, Remington,” he pointed out.

  “And you’re a dick who enjoys treating me like some fucking pet he trapped,” I muttered.

  “Go to the bedroom, Remington,” he growled, and I stood without warning, pushing the chair out before he could. For all his faults, he was well-mannered.

  I felt his eyes following me as I silently made my way up the stairs. I didn’t understand why they forced me to endure their company when it was clear they wanted me owned or dead. I entered the room I’d first been in, staring at the new bed, replacing the one I’d broken. Glaring, I peered up at the ceiling and walls they’d repaired in the last few hours.

  Climbing onto the bed, I shed the dress, wincing at the wound on my shoulder, and sat up. I walked into Rhys’s bedroom, grabbing the curling iron out of my bag. Slipping into the bathroom in my room to plug it in, I tapped my fingers on the counter, leaning against it while I waited for it to heat up. After a few minutes, I turned to look at the wound on my shoulder in the mirror, holding the curling iron against the cut flesh until it sizzled.

  I turned, staring at Rhys, who watched me silently through narrowing eyes. Ignoring him, I pulled the iron away from my shoulder, peering into the mirror at the healed flesh. Reaching over the sink, I unplugged the iron and placed it where it wouldn’t melt or burn anything.

  Grabbing my toothbrush, I applied the paste and set to scrubbing his taste out of my mouth while he watched. His stare slid over my naked frame, slowly lifting back up to my shoulder with curiosity.

  “Heat heals you,” he pointed out, and I rolled my eyes at his brilliant deduction. “You’re fireproof, aren’t you?” he asked, and when I didn’t answer him, he slipped in behind me, watching me in the mirror. “That’s what you meant when you said he could try, but it wouldn’t end up as he wanted. Isn’t it?”

  “Mmm,” I said around my toothbrush. Bending over, I spit out the toothpaste before grabbing the mouthwash. My eyes caught his in the mirror, reminding me of earlier when he’d done devilish things to me. He moved quickly, planting his hands to box me in against the counter. I continued staring at him as those memories flashed in my mind. “Stop it.”

  “Stop what, Remi? Stop touching you? Stop learning you?” He studied me; his smile curving his mouth while his eyes sparkled with dark amusement burning within them. “You’re going to need to elaborate on what you want me to stop doing.”

  “Stop using your magic on me, Rhys Van Helsing.”

  “I can’t make you want me. If that is what you think I am doing, you’re mistaken. I can only enhance your pleasure. I can’t make you want those dirty thoughts playing out in that pretty head of yours. That’s all you,” he uttered huskily.

  “Do you have bleach?” I asked softly, turning to run my hands up his chest slowly, watching the smile deepening on his lips, wrapping his arms arou
nd my waist. He pressed his erection against my stomach, proving I wasn’t the only one remembering earlier.

  “Now, why would you need bleach?” he asked, lowering his mouth against mine.

  “To erase every image of you from my head,” I smirked against his mouth, patting his chest. “Good night, Rhys,” I snorted, ducking out from beneath his arms. I walked toward the bed, only to be picked up and carried into his room. “I am not sleeping with you!”

  “You’re sleeping in my bed, woman. It isn’t up for negotiation at this time. When my bastard brothers leave, you can ask again. I have no intention of sleeping in this room just to keep you safe from them, not when you can sleep in my bed.”

  “You’ve done a smashing job of keeping me safe so far, asshole,” I grumbled, and then cried out as he dumped me onto the bed.

  “My job is to protect your life, Remington. You’re alive, aren’t you?” he muttered, pulling off the suit coat, and then slowly unbuttoning his shirt. I watched him silently, hating that his body made my eyes need to take inventory of each contoured line in detail. “How did you figure out that you were fireproof?”

  “How long have you run E.V.I.E.?”

  “I don’t run it. I only run a portion of the Seattle division. I hand out assignments that won’t need my assistance. It prevents me from spreading my knights out too thin, leaving them available for more pressing issues. How much does it piss you off knowing that you can’t go home, Remington?” he smirked wolfishly, victory shining in his azure stare.

  “It wasn’t my home. It was just somewhere to pass the time,” I lied, rolling my eyes at his snort. “Of course, a Van Helsing would run the hunting guild. It actually makes perfect sense as to why we weren’t allowed to slaughter the blood bags. You had a Silversmith right beneath your nose and didn’t notice me, which must burn your alpha ass.”

  “Admittedly, a little, but then I was coming to investigate the little spitfire that had climbed the ranks so rapidly. You see, I was aware of you, just not of what you were. I would have found you, Remington, even if you hadn’t returned home. There are not many who could do what you did, and certainly not in the time you did it. Most weapon masters take decades to learn their craft and adapt to what their role demands.”

  I bristled under the compliment. I felt uncomfortable with the praise and was uncertain how to take it, so I ignored it. Rhys slid his thumbs through the waist of his slacks, pushing them down before standing back up to step out of them. My attention lowered to his thick cock before I turned away from him. I moved up the bed, slipping beneath the covers to lie down, facing the opposite direction.

  “You’re upset that I am showing you off?” he asked into the room’s silence.

  “I am. I feel like a pet that’s made you proud. I am not a pet, Rhys. I am young, and everything it entails. I have emotions, and while they may seem stupid to you, they’re not to me. You think it is fun to show me off to immortals that want to use me, abuse me, and murder me. Before you, the only immortals I was around were my family, and then at the center at E.V.I.E., where I knew I was safe. Here, I don’t feel safe. I feel like at any moment, everything is going to go crazy, and my life will become forfeited. Either by accident or because my family slighted another’s before I was even born or created. You expect me to sit and be a good pet, but I will run, and I will keep running until I am free. I don’t want to be caged.

  “I agreed to work with you, and the first chance you got, you made it permanent because I am naïve, and you used that against me. Cole held me open for you to look at and play with because I’m easy to manipulate, and because every time you get close to me, all my inhibitions leave me. When your mouth touches mine, my worries slip away, and the world feels right. That alone terrifies me because, at the end of the day, you don’t actually want me. You want the magic I wield.”

  The sound of clothing rustled in the room, and I silently fought the tears that threatened to fall. My throat tightened while I waited for his reply.

  The door opened and closed, and I sat up, staring at the empty room. I frowned, pulling my legs up against my chest to drop my head to my knees. I’d just poured my heart out to Rhys, and he got bored and left. I was marking this one up as one of the biggest mistakes of my life, right next to running in to save him, and waking up on my knees with him between my lips.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Days went by where Nyx and I spent hours in the armory, charged to rearrange it, much to the horror of one knight. He would sigh, frown dramatically, or snort when I moved something. My babysitter, Acyn, would watch every single move I made. Either Cole or Acyn supervised me since the night I’d bared my soul to Rhys, only to have him slip out of the room like it hadn’t mattered to him. For the last three days, other than sleeping beside him, I hadn’t seen much of Rhys.

  “You cannot possibly think this is right. There’s a system in place. How will we find anything in a hurry?” the knight groaned. Acyn’s lips twitched, and his stare landed on Nyx, who purposely bent over, showing him that she’d forgone to wear panties today. “I want to speak to the alpha about this before she destroys everything!”

  “You have copper bullets mixed in with silver ones. If you were to shoot a wolf with copper, you’d end up with a dead knight assuming he’d made a kill shot, when in reality, all he’d manage to do is piss off that werewolf. You have bronze arrow tips in with the brass, and there are shavings everywhere, clinging to those tips. One single shaving on an arrow can mean the difference between life and death if it affects the arrow’s trajectory when released. A sharpshooter expects his ammo to be in firing shape. Yet your bullets are scuffed, tossed into freaking drawers, unboxed and unprotected. In short, you’re a shit weapons master who hasn’t mastered how to catalog, let alone store his ammunition properly to assist those in the field.

  “You literally had one responsibility here. And in case you are unaware of what it is, it is to ensure everything is in top firing order and prepared for the men counting on you to ensure it is so. You have an assistant who orders for you when supplies are short, yet you’ve failed to utilize him since half the supplies are low or gone. There’s another knight who ensures weapons are stored properly, and he catalogs them in every night. They’re cleaned, reloaded, and restocked into the safe, stored in zero moisture because he goes above and beyond to ensure the rice and vapor barriers within the room are changed out every three days. You, on the other hand, are a mess. If they’re doing their jobs, and you’re doing a shit job, their jobs don’t matter. Weapons need ammo, and you are the one responsible for storing that ammo correctly. So either sit your pompous ass down and shut your whining mouth, or get in here and help me to fix your mess, sir!” I snapped crossly.

  Acyn lifted a brow to the knight glaring at me, and yet the others didn’t stand behind him. Neither did they argue over what I had said.

  “You are what? Twelve? You don’t know shit about what it takes to do my job!” he stammered with a red face.

  “I’ve been the weapons master at E.V.I.E. since before my tits reached their full potential. I have used guns and bows since the time I could stand up. I am a Silversmith, and my entire life has revolved around manufacturing weapons, unlike anything this world has ever used or fired before. I could pour silver into bullets and perfected the process before I was old enough to discover my love button or that it had an actual function. I am a marksmanship champion against an entire line of hunters. While I may look young and inexperienced, I assure you that I am not. If you or your alpha intends to add my silver to this shit-hole of a mess, you have inside this armory, then I expect you to do your fucking job, or find another one you can handle.”

  “And you thought she might need your help?” Cole’s voice filled the room, forcing my eyes to his before they slid to Rhys, who stood beside him with his arms crossed over his broad chest, staring at me.

  “Indeed,” Rhys said, shaking his head as his eyes slid to the knight beside me. “You’re being re
assigned to a new post. Acyn, find someone who knows their cock from their hand and send them to Remington to see if they fit her expectations. When I learned that we had a new weapons master in Seattle who was a spitfire, I should have known it was a fucking Silversmith,” he admitted, rubbing his hand down his face. “Acyn, see to the completion of the other preparations as well, and report to me when you’re done,” Rhys announced, his eyes never leaving mine.

  Rhys wore a white button-down shirt that molded his muscular frame. The collar was left unbuttoned, and the sleeves rolled up, exposing the colorful tattoos that moved as he unfolded his arms over his chest, watching me as the knight opened his mouth to argue.

  “I am being generous, Carson, and considering your laziness has been mentioned repeatedly over the last few months, you’re lucky I didn’t reassign you to Antarctica. Leave now. If I have to ask you again, you won’t like me.” Rhys’s eyes never left my face, studying me through heated blue depths. “I’ll be in my office. When you’re finished here, I’d like a few words with you.”

  I stared at him, narrowing my eyes before I went back to arranging his arsenal as his knights helped me. It took more than four hours before I’d finished and stepped back, scanning over every box of ammo and every arrow that now was precisely where it belonged. Turning on my heel, I asked one of the knights where I could find Rhys’s office, and then was escorted there, which had become a new normal.

  I knocked on the door, stepping inside when he called out for me to enter. His eyes slipped over my shoulder, and the guard exited, closing the door behind him. Rhys’s office was huge and masculine. He had large filing drawers, with weird writing on the front next to a large wooden hutch that had dragons and the Van Helsing insignia carved into the front. On the other wall was an extensive display of books. Placed in the middle of the largest, widest shelf was the sword I’d crafted for him, prominently on display.