Chapter 8
Harrison finished the tale of when he’d pretended to be Malcolm in elementary school and gotten yelled at by his sister’s friends for changing the height on their bike seats. They were on another walk and were almost to the same clearing as the first night they’d opened up to each other.
Sylva’s laughter rang around him like Christmas bells. He grinned and her laughter stopped.
A soft gasp came from her.
He spun around. “Is something wrong?” He didn’t sense any danger.
A flush crept up her cheeks. “No, sorry. You smiled.”
“And?”
“You don’t ever do it,” she said and he shot her a questioning look. “Never once since I’ve known you. I mean, when I’ve seen you. You know, when you’re at the Synod and stuff.”
“Were you watching me?”
“No. Not at all.” But he could smell her embarrassment. “You’re hard not to notice.”
“And what did you notice?” He was teasing her and it felt natural.
The look in her eyes turned calculating. “That you’re hotter than your brother.”
His eyes went wide and he choked out a laugh. No one thought he was the better-looking twin. “We look the same.”
“You’re taller and your face is more angular.”
She was right. But nobody could tell with his beard. “I’m barely a centimeter taller and it depends on who’s measuring. We’re even when it’s Malcolm doing the measuring.”
She chuckled. His sense of humor had blossomed in the last few days, but making her laugh had become addictive. She hadn’t done nearly enough of it in her life and he aimed to correct that.
“Don’t tell him.” She was still smiling.
“Definitely not about being hotter. He’d never recover.” Harrison would be the one who couldn’t get over it. His mind chewed over her confession.
Fuck friendship, he wanted so much more with her.
They passed through the clearing to head back to the cabin. More practice was on the agenda. He’d been so impressed with her progress, he couldn’t wait to find out how she fought as her wolf.
She took the lead on the way home, pointing out interesting areas along the way. The spot where she’d found a den of skunks. A mama and three babies, long gone by now. The place where she harvested some mushrooms every year. And the—
He caught a different scent. It smelled like the big cat, Nala. Yet, not exactly. Something was off.
He snaked his hand around her elbow. She stiffened and looked at him like she was wondering if this was part of her training—a surprise attack. He’d never lose her trust that way. She must’ve read that from his face and she dropped into a defensive crouch.
“I think it’s Nala.” But from her tone, like him, she detected a difference.
“Something’s wrong with your cat. Are there any other mountain lions around?” She would’ve mentioned it, but he had to ask.
“Not any that smell like her.”
Untucking his shirt from his pants, he debated what to do. There was no wind within the trees and it was difficult to detect which direction Nala was coming from. All he knew was that the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. She was coming for them.
“Do we shift?” Sylva asked. “I can communicate with her better as a wolf.”
“Yes.” He shed his clothing in seconds and shifted, sweeping around to scent the air.
He sensed Sylva finish her shift. She might be able to communicate with animals using body language, but he couldn’t. He would know what Sylva learned if he could mind-speak with her, but he didn’t do that with anyone. Get out of my head, Gloria. Quit interfering with my search.
No, he couldn’t do that again. He’d have to figure out another way.
Nala’s scent was growing stronger, and the sour taint on it didn’t bode well.
Sylva whined. He glanced at her, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her keen gaze was riveted to the trees. The cat. As a human, even with heightened shifter hearing, he wouldn’t have heard her approach. She was death on four paws. And she was charging straight for them.
He didn’t have time to contemplate what was wrong with her. His one job was to protect Sylva.
Shifters were larger than regular wolves. He was still bigger than Nala, but she was 130 pounds of agile muscle and her fighting instinct was just as deadly as his.
They met in a clash of claws and fangs. There was no circling to gain the best advantage, no sizing up the opposition. It was how he’d imagine fighting a rabid animal would be like; the higher-thinking part of their brain was shut off and they were just sick and acting on instincts.
Sharp teeth snapped at his neck as she twisted to get a part of him between her powerful jaws. He flipped and rolled, dislodging her, but when he whipped around, she wasn’t where he’d expected.
Shit. Nala charged Sylva. The black wolf shimmied to the side, her fangs bared, a warning growl clear in the night. But Nala didn’t slow. He sprinted after her, using his powerful haunches to gain speed. The cat was fast, but Sylva evaded her grip long enough for him to pounce.
He caught the cat between his powerful claws and sank his teeth into her thick neck. She snarled and twisted, but he only clamped harder. This shouldn’t be so easy. It was like the cat was already fatigued. How long had she been hunting Sylva?
Warm blood filled his mouth. No part of him enjoyed the taste. The coppery tint did nothing to satisfy the hunter in him. Whatever had happened to this cat, it was tragic.
Nala staggered and sank to the ground. He didn’t let up. She was too much of a threat to release. The risk was too high. Letting her go wasn’t an option.
He sensed a change in the air.
“Harrison, stop.” Sylva had shifted back.
The risk was too great. The cat was still fighting against him.
“Harrison. Stop.”
Hands pushed at him, but he kept his pressure on the cat. The weakening of her heartbeat told him he wasn’t done with this job yet. Somehow she’d been weaponized against them.
“Stop. You’ll kill her!”
The distress in Sylva’s voice was enough to get through to him. He loosened his hold, but as soon as he did, Nala bucked and squirmed for Sylva.
He could tell Sylva what was going on if he could mind-speak with her. The idea made him want to vomit. If he invited her in, would he have to kick her out one day?
An arm snaked around his neck and breasts pressed into his back. She tightened her grip until it forced his jaws to loosen. What the hell was she doing? The cat was going to keep attacking her until its dying breath.
His air was getting cut off. He jerked his teeth from Nala’s neck, not realizing how close Sylva still was. He head-butted her. She cried out and released him. When he swung around to see if she was all right, the sight broke his heart.
Sylva scrambled backward until her back hit the trunk of a tree. She was dirty, her knees were skinned, and her torso was covered in blood. He was certain it wasn’t hers, and probably not his. The blood was her cat friend’s. The one she’d been begging him not to kill.
It was the look in Sylva’s eyes that shattered him. When his head had connected with hers, he’d set back all the progress they’d made. And he’d been so careful working with her. Ignoring the cat, he shifted back to his human form. Holding his hands up, he tried to comfort her. “Sylva, it’s just me.”
She refused to look at him, her watery gaze clued to the prone cat. “D-don’t kill her.”
“She’s rabid. She needs to be put down.”
“She’s being controlled. That sour smell? I’ve smelled it before. It’s one of Roman’s brothers.”
He sensed his twin before Sylva did. “Malcolm’s coming.”
Malcolm came into view, barefoot and wearing jeans. Sylva relaxed. She pressed her fingers against her temples and dragged in a deep breath, then let it out slower.
Malcolm gave him the typical what di
d you do? look. “I got up for some water and smelled blood.”
“The cat was trying to kill us,” he said as if that was all the explanation he needed. It didn’t feel like nearly enough.
“He was going to kill her.” Sylva was glaring at him, her arms hugged across her chest and her legs folded to cover herself. He could beat himself for scaring her.
Malcolm went over to the mountain lion. She was still alive, but she’d lost a lot of blood. “She smells weird.”
“One of the brothers.” He hated seeing what he’d done to the cat, and to Sylva. “Some form of animal mind control.”
Malcolm looked at both him and Sylva like the tension between them was visible. “Why don’t you two get dressed? I’ll walk back with Sylva, and you can carry the cat.”
“Her name is Nala.” Sylva’s voice sounded stronger. Malcolm’s presence soothed her. “We’re not killing her.”
Malcolm shook his head as if that was the worst idea in the world. “Absolutely not. We need to get her out from under shifter control.
He should’ve sensed it. Instead, he’d overreacted for Sylva’s sake and turned into her worst nightmare.
Nala was still unconscious on the floor of the garage. When they’d returned before dawn, it was the only place the three of them had thought could contain the big cat—if she healed from her injuries. The twins had discussed building a cage but she’d vetoed their idea. The cat wouldn’t have much energy for a while and when she did, she was free to go.
Sylva just hoped she’d be able to communicate to Nala that she was safe here.
But was she?
A shifter had gotten close enough to Nala. He’d known she and Nala hung out. The control had been unshakeable until the cat had almost died.
Sylva’s heart twisted. She’d brought danger to the creatures of this forest, to the one animal she had some sort of bond with.
She’d dutifully sat on an overturned five-gallon pail through the morning. There was probably an imprint on her ass. Her car was parked outside, looking like a toy next to Malcolm’s old pickup. The garage door was open now that the afternoon sun was heating the space to uncomfortable levels. Malcolm patrolled the property.
Harrison had cleaned up and gone to bed. She doubted he was sleeping, but so far, she’d been mostly successful in not thinking about him. When her mind returned to how he’d pinned Nala down, then how sorry he’d looked after he’d shifted, she was conflicted.
What would she have done in his place?
Not killed her friend. But would she have had a choice? She hadn’t missed how Nala had continued lunging for her each chance she got. The poor creature.
A water dish was full next to her big head. There was even a pound of hamburger on the floor next to it for when she woke up. The meat should be easy to chew and digest, and about all they could offer since they didn’t have access to a veterinarian. Explaining the situation to a nonshifter was out of the question.
Sylva wanted to be here when she woke up. She was the only one who could communicate with her.
Malcolm entered the garage. He put his hands on his hips and studied the mountain lion. “She smells better.”
Once they’d removed the cat from the forest and she’d been unconscious long enough, the taint of shifter control had faded. Nala would wake up in pain and terrified. It was still a dangerous situation, but it was the least Sylva could do. Short of getting her head gnawed off, which was what Nala probably had been driven to do, Sylva would survive. Any other injuries Nala could inflict, Sylva could heal from.
“She hasn’t moved.” Her voice cracked.
Malcolm turned over another bucket and sat next to her, resting his elbows on his knees. “She’ll wake up. I’m sure it’s the mind control and not the injuries that taxed her.”
The injuries. Her own goose egg on her forehead had faded hours ago. The head butt had been an accident, but her mind hadn’t understood that at the time.
All that training and she still jumped when a situation brought back memories. What had happened out there in the woods was nothing like her past, but she wasn’t going to fool herself. Being around a strong male who acted violently, necessary or not, was a hard obstacle for her to get over.
She should explain that to Harrison, but she couldn’t leave her friend’s side.
The image of Nala charging at her played through her mind. The cat hadn’t stalked her, she hadn’t toyed with her, and she hadn’t hesitated. She’d been unstoppable.
She copied the way Malcolm was sitting. Her stomach rumbled.
“Harrison made lunch,” Malcolm said quietly.
She didn’t respond.
“You should eat.” Malcolm looked at her from the corner of his eye.
He wasn’t pushy but she sensed he wasn’t going to let up about her getting fuel—or talking to his brother. “I’m not ready.”
“I won’t pretend to understand. But my job is to keep you safe and that’s a lot harder when you don’t trust us.”
“I trust you.” A slow exhale seeped out of her. She wanted to leave it at that, but she couldn’t. Malcolm was worried about her. He cared for his brother more. When she’d been hovering over Nala, Malcolm had tended to Harrison’s wounds. “Until Nala wakes up, I just can’t think about anything else.”
“She means a lot to you.”
“He was going to kill her.” Dammit, she hated sounding weak.
“She wasn’t going to stop,” he said softly.
She dropped her hands and rose. Pacing back and forth the short width of her garage, she tried to explain. “I don’t make friends, okay? No friends, no family, and my coworkers don’t really enjoy my company. It’s not like pets are naturally attracted to shifters. It gets lonely out here.”
He rubbed his hands over his face. “Will she let us protect her, too?”
“I doubt it. She’s a wild animal.” And after Harrison, she’d never trust the twins. She might never trust Sylva again. Sorrow hung over her like a dark cloud.
He sighed like he could read her mind. “I’ll keep patrolling. We suspected they were out there and now we know.”
She’d gotten too complacent, too smug about how the Raymores’ scare tactics were just giving her time to learn how to fight them. “I wish I’d known what their abilities were. They were all so secretive.” Another control tactic. Her mate had also been discreet.
“It’s a hell of an ability.” His eyes darkened when he looked at the prone cat. Sylva caught herself before she bared a fang. She might be a little overprotective. “Either one strong brother, or two that can work together to amplify an ability.”
What a terrible thought. They could attack her from farther away.
Malcolm left her alone. She crossed to Nala and squatted. Would she heal? Was this endeavor to save her hopeless? When Sylva had first stitched and bandaged her wounds, Nala had soaked through two sets of bandages. This round was still clean. A good sign?
The mountain lion’s heartbeat was faint but steadier than it had been earlier.
A shadow blocked the sun. Sylva twisted around.
Harrison.
He was in the garage, but hanging close to the doors. In one hand was a clean set of rags, and a bowl of something steamed from the other. She sniffed. Bone marrow broth.
“I found a bone in the freezer and boiled it up for her.” He sounded as concerned as she was.
Bone marrow broth. The soup would be even better than hamburger meat for Nala if they could get it in her.
He stooped and set his stuff down.
“I’m not afraid of you.” She bit the inside of her cheek. She sounded scared and defensive. “I’m not afraid.”
“It’s okay if you are.”
She chuffed. “You and Malcolm can quit treating me like I’m fragile at any time.”
“Sylva…”
She jumped up and stomped toward him. “I understand, too. I’m lonely and pathetic. You two feel sorry for me. You’re always worri
ed about scaring me. You saved my life and now you have to tiptoe around me because you’re worried about my fragile state. I hate it. And if you keep treating me like this, I’ll hate you, too.”
She gasped and pressed two fingers to her lips. What had come out of her mouth? None of it made sense. Or it made perfect sense. Her mind was a mess.
And judging by his perplexed expression, he thought so, too.
She released a frustrated growl, grabbed his shirt, and planted her lips on his.
He stiffened under her grip but made no move to push her away. His hands stayed by his side and his lips didn’t yield under hers. But this wasn’t a romantic kiss. It shocked her mind into screaming What are you doing? and she had to answer.
What was she doing?
As she pulled away, she puzzled over the kiss. She and Harrison had surmounted a big obstacle in the days before the attack, and they’d been growing even closer.
Now, her traumatized mind wanted to be terrified of him. It wanted to blame him for the dying cat on her garage floor. And that broke her heart.
What was worse? Never having anything to lose, or gaining it and then losing it?
She licked her lips and forced herself to look into his dark eyes. “I’m sorry for such a drastic move. I don’t hate you, of course.”
“You didn’t claim to.” His shoulders loosened but he was far from relaxed. “I didn’t take it that way.” She cocked her head. “Okay, maybe a little. But logically I knew—”
“It’s the logical part we need to hang on to.” She tapped her forehead. “This isn’t making the most sense right now. I’m trying to be the new me.”
“You can’t be the new you without the old you. That female survived a lot. She was a survivor. A fighter.”
“I didn’t… Without my mother…”
He cocked his head. “What did your mother actually do?”
“It was her idea,” Sylva whispered. “The gun. We were convinced it was the only way to free myself. But I couldn’t do it.”
Harrison’s incredulous face was frozen while he processed what she’d said. “Your mother shot your mate?”
A Shifter's Bodyguard (Pale Moonlight Book 5) Page 9