“I would say it’s good to see you again,” she started, keeping her mental door firmly shut on her past. She was the new Sylva, not the female this guy had once known. Standing across the table from him gave her the perfect opportunity to look down on him. “But I made it clear the other night how I felt about your visit.”
His mouth curled up in a sneer. “I was just stopping by to say hi. Is that how you greet an old friend?”
“You know I have no friends. You guys always made sure of it.”
“A strong female would’ve surrounded herself with plenty of supporters.”
There it was. Just like old times. She pulled a chair out and sank into it as gracefully as possible. With her back ramrod straight, she folded her hands on the tabletop. “It was my supporters who dragged you off my porch and dumped you here.”
The bastard laughed. His smile died just as abruptly. “I would say that I’ve missed your fire, but you and I both know that it only came after your act of cowardice.” His eyes burned as bright as the hottest part of the flame.
She willed her heartbeat to remain steady before it beat out of her chest like a terrified jackrabbit. “What made you come here to dredge up the past? Roman is dead.” Using his same tone, she said, “A stronger male would’ve moved on.”
Fury rippled through his features, extinguishing that fire, making his gaze as cold as a Canadian winter. “Our justice system didn’t have a chance to deal with you. I’ve taken it on myself to right that wrong.”
“From where I stand, the justice system in Four Claws is nothing but cowardice. How else would you explain the need for ultimate rule if your family believed it could maintain power in the first place?” She tilted her head to the side, looking at him as if she were studying a bug. That would get under his skin more than any words she could say.
A red flush crept up his neck and into his cheeks. If he got any hotter under the collar, his head was going to pop off. Maybe his body would whistle like a teakettle. And his sweaty musk would choke her.
She was right and he knew it. In this little room, she was the one with the power. It was refreshing. Too bad she couldn’t forget the sheer panic racing through her veins when he’d been on her porch.
He narrowed his eyes. “You think you got me, don’t you? Did you forget, little female, that you only killed one of us?”
The corner of her mouth kicked up in a snarl. Roman used to call her “little female,” and it hadn’t been a term of endearment. “The thing is, I don’t have to remember. You and your brothers mean nothing to me. Nothing.”
He growled and slammed his fist on the table. It took all her restraint not to flinch.
The door cracked open. As soon as she heard the click, she commanded, “Stop.” She had to rescue the situation or John Todd would still think he was right about her. He was, but it was important she put on a good show. “It’s just a temper tantrum.”
It was Malcolm who chuckled as the door shut. But a glow of appreciation sparked in her belly. She doubted he found anything funny, which meant he’d done it only to get under John Todd’s skin. Malcolm was quickly becoming the best friend she’d ever had. What was Harrison thinking?
John Todd had gotten over his bout of anger. He was reclining in his chair, returning the scrutinizing look she’d once given him. “Still the weakest one in the room. Can’t protect yourself, can’t do anything for yourself, have to rely on some big strong shifter to take care of you.”
It was a struggle, but she kept shame from reaching her expression. That tiny voice in her head wanted to scream how true his words were. She hadn’t risen to the top because of her own deeds. She’d been placed there because she’d been a victim. Who better to represent other victims in their society? And while she might’ve taken down John Todd the other night, she’d failed to carry through with any real action. The first moment she’d had a chance, she’d called for help.
But whatever her path to power, she had it now and she wasn’t going to shirk her responsibilities. “Still the big strong male who thinks with his fangs instead of that tiny brain rattling around in his head.”
Anger vibrated through John Todd but he refrained from lashing out. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, he said in a low, deceptively calm tone, “I can’t wait for Rafe and Clayton to teach you how to properly show respect.” He moved even closer and she pressed back into her own chair. “When they’re done, they’ll enjoy telling me all about your little squeals. Especially when they make you beg for mercy you haven’t earned.”
She would swallow hard, but her throat was as dry as if she’d gargled with sand. This interview couldn’t be an abject failure. Demke and Harrison and Malcolm were waiting outside. They’d arranged their entire day around this interview, and the twins were giving up all of their time to guard her. She couldn’t crumble under this sorry excuse of a shifter.
She kicked her chin up and borrowed the haughty expression Demetrius often wore. It was like his version of a resting bitch face, and it used to drive her crazy until she’d gotten to know him. Now, she’d mimic him. “And I’ll enjoy being the one to tell you that they did not survive our encounter.” This time she was the one to lean forward, her voice low. “Maybe I’ll even bring their heads in so you can see firsthand what a weak female I am.”
She stood and pushed her chair in with deliberate precision. But as she was walking out the door, he said, “I don’t believe for one second that you could kill either one of them.”
She sensed the twins hovering on the other side of the open door. Those couldn’t be the final words. This couldn’t be how she left the interview in front of those she respected.
She paused and looked over her shoulder, the lie leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. “What I did to Roman is proof enough.”
Chapter 6
Harrison awoke to the most delicious smell. He blinked his eyes, then scrubbed his face as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The aroma wrapped around him like a warm blanket.
Was that…pie?
Sylva had said she was fine after her talk with John Todd, but she hadn’t been the same. When they’d returned the previous night, she’d gone straight to her room. He and Malcolm had given each other a look and brushed it off. Anyone would need space after a conversation like that. But she’d been more stoic than any female in the comfort of her own home should be.
He was interested to see what Malcolm’s report about the day would be. Shrugging into his T-shirt and jeans, his uniform of choice, he stuffed his feet into his boots. Malcolm went all over the place barefoot supposedly in case he had to shift on short notice, but it was more likely that he was just way too comfortable in this little cottage.
Every time he thought of Malcolm and how comfortable he was in Sylva’s home, and how much those two seemed to get along the more they were together, he got all…achy. If it had been anyone other than his brother, his twin, he might have let it show. But this was Malcolm, and seeing him happy was too important to Harrison.
Besides, it was ridiculous to think that he was good for anything more than a screw.
His gaze stayed on the doorknob. Just open it and go out. But he couldn’t.
Malcolm’s voice vibrated through the wood. Chatter. Malcolm and Sylva were chatting. Sylva didn’t say more than three words to Harrison during the night shift, but she and Malcolm were suddenly buds?
He shook his head. This juvenile jealousy was going too far. Malcolm was putting her at ease, which was his job, to protect her while not scaring her worse in the first place.
If he delayed any longer, he’d be late for duty—and he wouldn’t know if that delectable smell was really pie.
In the kitchen, Malcolm was leaning against the small square island. The look on his face was one Harrison hadn’t seen since they were little boys, and sweet Mother Earth, that smell. It unplugged all his unwanted childhood memories. Good ones.
Memories he should want to remember, b
ut had refused to. No one would think a guy with his personality had had an idyllic childhood, but parts of it had been. Sprinting through the forest, darting around trees, and racing Malcolm home for a slice of Maw’s pie right out of the oven… Longing came next. Always the longing. Wanting those days back. The excitement. The thrill for life, for living.
“Just in time for a slice.” Malcolm’s smile was as broad as Harrison’s own answering frown. His brother remained unfazed. “It’ll cheer you up.”
Unlike him, Malcolm didn’t shun recollection of the good times. They didn’t haunt him. Or maybe they did, but the suffering was worth a piece of strawberry rhubarb pie. Harrison’s gaze strayed to the counter. With fresh fucking whipped cream.
It wasn’t just pie that Sylva had spent the day preparing. Five loaves of bread lined the counter, and muffins or cupcakes were set in rows behind them. His nose twitched. Hints of zucchini. She’d done some harvesting and gone straight to baking.
Sylva was a stress baker.
He lifted his gaze and found hers boring into him. She’d been through a tough time and the proof was in the baked goods.
“Smells good.” The dark circles under her eyes were enough for him to make an effort. She might’ve gone straight to bed last night, but he doubted she’d gotten any sleep.
The tension in her expression eased until she looked almost sheepish. “I figured a pie was the least I could do, and I added chocolate chips to the zucchini loaves at your brother’s request.”
Malcolm gets whatever he wants. Harrison shook the thought out of his head. Hadn’t he just been thinking how nice it was to see Malcolm damn near giddy? Malcolm had probably asked nicely and given her that trademark smile. Harrison wouldn’t have had the chance because she hid in her room most of the time he was on duty.
What was it about Sylva that twisted him in knots?
Three plates were on the counter, a slice centered on each of them. Rich pink liquid swirled around the base of each piece. Both he and Malcolm were mesmerized as she dolloped whipped cream on top one by one by one. A fork was placed in front of him and in front of Malcolm and a plate slid their way.
Harrison stared at his like it was a viper about to strike. Malcolm had zero hesitation. Sylva lifted her plate and cut the corner of the wedge off with her fork. She scooped her fork under the piece but didn’t lift it to her mouth. She was waiting for him.
Just like their mother used to.
“Remember how Maw liked to watch each one of us eat our pie first?” Harrison winced. What had made him ask that?
Malcolm’s chewing slowed and his brow crinkled. He answered with a gruff, “Yeah. Camille was always the first to finish.”
He worried his brother was going to set his piece down unfinished, but he held on to it. That didn’t mean the man wasn’t continuing on without great effort.
“Camille?” Sylva lifted the top crust off the piece she had cut and took a bite from it. The move might’ve riveted Harrison only a minute ago, but the trip down memory lane had snagged his attention.
“Our sister.”
Her eyes widened, but she finished chewing. “Oh. I didn’t realize you guys have a sister.”
“Had,” he said quietly. “We had a sister.” Then as if the decades-old floodgates had been lifted, he let it all spill out. “She was older than us, and a pain in the ass. But she was the center of our world.”
“And she’d love this pie.” Malcolm always knew what to say to lighten the mood.
Why had he brought up their sister?
“I’m sorry.” The sympathy in her eyes didn’t send him running. He clung to it.
“It’s okay.” And that was something he never said. But it was okay. He and Malcolm should talk about Camille more, not pretend that she’d never existed. “She was blond like Maw but had Father’s charm. She was the only one who could make Maw laugh.”
He shoved a bite of pie into his mouth. It barely fit. But then he hadn’t been paying attention to what his fork was cutting into. Sweetness blasted over his tongue, only to be cut through with the unique, bitter flavor of rhubarb. Just as good as Maw used to make. Rhubarb and wild strawberries and an unhealthy amount of sugar combined with an obscene amount of butter in the crust, and he was transported back to the best times of his life.
Malcolm’s face was ashen, but he was trying to hide it. For once, Harrison took over to give Malcolm space. “She liked animals. Especially horses, and they never seem bothered by her. Harrison and I can’t even look at a horse before it bolts across the pasture, but they’d always come running for her.”
“She was special,” Sylva said softly.
“She left and never came back.”
Harrison jerked at Malcolm’s words.
It had been so long since they’d spoken about her, and tonight was like yanking duct tape off a gaping, festering wound.
The story poured out of Malcolm. “She loved riding, just riding forever. So we didn’t think anything when she didn’t come back for an entire day. But then night fell and even the well-worn trails where we grew up wouldn’t be good for the horse. But even still, we were worried about her because of her horse. If anything happened to Barrel Racer, it’d break her heart. And if she felt responsible, it would destroy her.”
“But she never came back.” Harrison finished off his dessert just to have something else to do besides thinking about the day his sister had vanished.
Sylva folded her hands on the countertop, her plate next to them, the rest of her food untouched. “I’m so sorry. You must’ve searched forever.”
Malcolm snorted. “Our parents worried we’d get lost, too. We didn’t quit searching for—”
“Years.” Regret clouded his vision until all he could see was Maw explaining what had happened to Gloria. She was the reason they’d finally come out of the woods. He was the reason she was dead.
“No idea what happened?” The gentleness of her voice cleared his mind, but he didn’t deserve it.
Sylva made him want things that he hadn’t wanted in a long time. He wanted her to curl up with him as he told her about those long nights in the forest, how he and his brother had refused to give up, and how despair had set in as each day went by and they didn’t find her. He wanted to describe how her scent had faded to nothing until he and Malcolm had been left hunting and hoping aimlessly.
“She was happy,” Malcolm said. “She wouldn’t have run away. Hell, she was an adult. She could’ve moved away whenever she wanted. But she kept saying that she’d move when she found her mate. All we can think is that she got abducted.”
Harrison sensed the question before she could ask it. “We don’t believe she was murdered. We were never able to get a strong bearing on her scent. It was faint along the trail she’d left on and only grew fainter.”
“And your mother and father had plenty of enemies.” Sylva might not have known their parents, but she knew of their parents. Everyone did. Father had been on the Lycan Council. And their mother… Well, she was Maw.
“Father scoured his list of enemies, but nothing.” Malcolm pushed away from the counter. “Thank you for the pie. Seriously. There’d better be a slice for breakfast.” He turned to go downstairs. “It was a pretty quiet day. No new scents.”
By the time Harrison tore his gaze off his brother, Sylva had busied herself at the sink. She never let them help with dishes, and it was all they could do to clean up after meals without getting shooed away. You two are already working. You don’t need to do extra cleanup.
Sylva glanced over her shoulder. She was silhouetted by the fading daylight streaming through the window across from her. With her refined features and the slight twist to her body accentuating her curves, he could stare at her all night. “I’d like to go for a walk tonight. As myself, not my wolf.”
The last part was a relief. After the recent discussion about his sister and the reminder of those years in the woods, a relaxing stroll would help file the memories back in place. Th
ey were currently surging in his brain. The way he and Malcolm had smelled after weeks of searching before they stopped to take a dip in the river. The metallic tang of their rabbit kills. And the smell of the rainstorm when they’d turned around and raced for home. All that needed to go away.
But that left him taking a stroll in the forest with Sylva at sunset. He’d only done that with one other person. His pulse sped up and he swiped a hand over his chest. She was going to sense the turmoil inside of him if he didn’t control himself.
“I’ll wait outside.” All he needed was just a few minutes to gather himself and then he’d be fine.
She needed this. With the trees, the temperature dropped quicker at night during the summer. It was cool enough to keep from breaking a sweat as she followed the deer trail.
Her thoughts returned to the twins and their sister. She should’ve known there was more to these guys than she’d first assumed. She should’ve known that a shifter’s past carved out their present.
Still, she couldn’t help but think that it was just one part of their story. Losing their sister was tragic enough. Add in the nightmare of not knowing why, and that was all that was needed to change a person. It explained their protective nature, and why they were constantly drawn back to the place where they’d been raised.
But it didn’t explain their particular sex life. It wasn’t hard to see that they had a routine. They had sex frequently, with several different partners, and they rarely revisited the same one. The twins stayed away from anything that would make their partner think there might be more than sex on the table.
Sex on the table. She smirked, glad that Harrison was behind her. A hot flash crept up her body. Please don’t let him sense my arousal.
She should thank Harrison. For a long time she’d wondered if she would ever be turned on again. She’d worried that Roman had broken that part of her. And if she wanted to analyze the way she’d judged the twins, it probably had to do with her terrible sexual insecurity.
A Shifter's Bodyguard (Pale Moonlight Book 5) Page 7