Sheltered

by Jen Colly

  Rollin opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He quickly turned around, clenched his jaw shut to keep the inappropriate words locked inside him, and left her to sort out the problem on her own.

  He was attracted to this sensuous woman, there was no denying it, but he still couldn’t pinpoint what it was about her that he craved. Bette cried. She laughed. Her fears lay open and exposed. Her teasing was bold and alluring. How could one woman be everything?

  He knew what Jovan thought had happened between them. His brother had seen her standing before him in a sheet with smudged makeup and tousled hair. Bette looked like she’d had a good tumble in bed. What he wouldn’t give to wake up to a woman like her every night.

  His shoulders sagged. She looked amazing in the gown he’d bought her. Allix had been right. Bette knew her way around high-dollar clothing. After seeing his meager home, she’d hesitated to use him for his money, but she would likely have no qualms about taking from the lord of the city. Tonight, Navarre would offer her a home and a small allowance, and she would accept. She should accept.

  Chapter 16

  Balinese

  Rollin did his best to keep an eye on Bette without openly staring, but the mental task proved more difficult than he could have imagined. The woman drew him in even at a distance. She laughed, and he perked up. Should she move with anything other than a small, subtle gesture, his gaze immediately returned to her.

  She sat at the lord’s table beside Cat, and while Bette had walked into the room with all the confidence of a visiting diplomat, she’d nearly panicked when he left her at the table alone to take his post by the door.

  There was truly no need for Rollin to work tonight, but he needed Bette to make the decision on her own, without looking to him for advice. Otherwise he’d never discover what it was she was after.

  What Rollin needed was a conversation with Soren. Or at the very least, a distraction. In this tame setting, it wasn’t likely he would find one. Standing guard in a dining hall brimming with aristocracy was a cakewalk. Nothing catastrophic, other than spilled wine, ever happened.

  Jovan strode past him, finally deigning to make an appearance. Maeryn walked close by his side, clearly under his protection. As the two joined their typical circle of friends off to the edge of the room, two young men attempted to make polite conversation with Maeryn, but she just shook her head. Jovan did what he always did, using himself as a barrier between Maeryn and the rest of the world. He carried on the conversation alone while Maeryn clung to his arm, her grip tight.

  Rollin hadn’t expected to see Maeryn at all after the incident with the demon, and she was still jittery, her eyes darting around the room, but she was here, and that was a good thing. Those two had a bizarre relationship Rollin had never understood. Maeryn calmed Jovan’s anger, and he calmed her fears. Glancing back to the head table, Rollin suddenly realized he couldn’t quite wrap his head around Navarre and Cat either.

  Cat and Jovan were much alike. Moody, volatile, and deadly. That’s what he couldn’t quite grasp. How could Maeryn and Navarre tolerate them for any extended period of time? Especially now. Rollin could sense Jovan and Cat were both on the edge, itching for a fight, and there was none to be had. The demon was already dead.

  Rollin had been surrounded by conflict and sorrow for a lifetime. For him, there was no burning desire to battle, not when everything he did was to prevent discord and secure the city. He craved consistency, in his duties and in his personal life.

  Suddenly realizing he was once again staring openly at Bette, he turned his gaze away quickly. He’d liked having her in his home, hadn’t realized how much he needed someone to care for, but she wasn’t his, and he needed to make a clean break. Their attraction, connection, whatever it was, was over. Any moment Navarre would provide her with the security of her own home. Rollin would no longer be her safe haven.

  Dario split from Jovan’s circle, walked up and stood to his right. Together, backs to the wall, they surveyed the gathering. Though his long hair and regal posture lent him the look befitting his aristocrat state, Dario was always in Guardian mode.

  “Why so unfocused?” Dario asked.

  “That’s not the problem,” he grumbled. “I’m completely focused.”

  “Ah, the wild rose at Lord Navarre’s table. You’re not the only one, my friend. The city is buzzing about her, and for once, the reality lives up to the rumor. She’s beautiful.”

  Beautiful was not the word to describe her. Beautiful was almost an insult. Bette was exquisite. Rollin had lost count of how many times he’d turned from her only to find his gaze riveted on her once again. Even when Dario called him out, he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

  Bette glanced up then, her nervous gaze scanning the room, but when her eyes met his, she smiled, and even from across the room the bottom dropped from his stomach. A genuine happiness lit through her, not because of where she sat or her dinner company, but because she’d found him in the crowd.

  “I’ve lost you again,” Dario said. “A word of advice, my friend. Snare the beauty, before some depraved beast gets a hold of her.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?

  “Make a move,” Dario said, each word precisely spoken, and meant. “Or I will.”

  Rollin glowered at his friend. Dario was interested in Bette? It shouldn’t surprise him at all. Dario liked women. Any woman. Rollin hadn’t expected the spike of jealousy that had shot through him. The thought of Dario stepping in and striking up a relationship with Bette didn’t set well with him.

  Dario clapped a hand on Rollin’s shoulder. “I’ll now leave you to your brooding.”

  As Dario walked away, Rollin marked his progress, half expecting him to go straight for Bette. Instead, Dario went and sat with his parents, and when he looked back at Rollin, an innocent smile crossed his face. In a small, discreet gesture, Dario pointed to Rollin, then to the head table.

  Damn him. He’d been trying to make him jealous? Stirring thoughts that hadn’t been there before? Emotions he hadn’t known existed? He’d always heard Dario being referred to as the great manipulator, but he’d never seen him in action, never been the target.

  Dario ducked his head to speak in confidence with his mother, and a moment later Amelia Pomeroy waved at him, smiling brightly. Rollin returned the gesture. Her husband, Charis, looked up from his plate and waved as well.

  Guardians in the dining hall were ignored, treated as silent, invisible statues. Except for Rollin. This was the downfall of being a Guardian who was also a member of the royal family.

  The Pomeroys were seated next to Soren and Faith Rayner, and the couple couldn’t help but notice the exchange. Faith only smiled as Soren leaned over to whisper something in her ear before kissing her cheek and leaving the table.

  Soren was headed his way, which wasn’t a surprise. It was hard to separate their personal connection from work, and more often than not, Soren didn’t even try. Taking a similar position, back to the wall, Soren asked, “Well?”

  “She says she’s from Valenna,” Rollin said.

  “I see. Do you believe her?”

  He’d considered this question already. “More than I disbelieve her.”

  Soren watched the head table openly. “I’m surprised they let her go. Last I knew Valenna was a closed city.”

  Rollin turned his head sharply to Soren. “A closed city? How often does that happen?”

  “To my understanding, never. Balinese shut down temporarily after the attack, and occasionally I’ve caught wind of Talvane closing its doors for a short amount of time, but they’re in the heart of Paris, and caution keeps them well hidden. Valenna is different. It’s been closed for at least a decade, for no better reason than to carry on its corrupt ways unimpeded by the outside world,” Soren said, a touch of displeasure in his voice. Then his captain nodded toward Bette. “If she ac
tually fled from Valenna, I’d happily take her in and keep her from that wretched city.”

  “Should I be concerned?”

  “Are you?”

  She belonged at the side of a lord and lady, among the elite. Whoever she was, wherever she came from, Bette was no common woman. She could be highly ambitious, but did that mean she would bring trouble to Balinese?

  “I haven’t decided,” Rollin mumbled, his gaze still fixed on Bette.

  Suddenly Navarre and Cat were in their own conversation, leaving Bette on her own. As she turned her attention back to her food, the mirth faded from her features, and she seemed saddened. Which was the act? Or were they both real?

  Soren scanned the room. “Have you seen Steffen?”

  “Not lately,” Rollin answered, then suddenly it occurred to him that he’d covered several of Steffen’s shifts. “Why?”

  “He’s backsliding,” Soren said, his voice hushed. “His determination to live seems revived only by an encounter with a demon. He’s a good man, and I don’t want to lose him.”

  “And yet the sun does not care,” Rollin said.

  Suddenly Bette gave a cry of alarm and bolted from her chair.

  “Well, that was unexpected. Are you sure she’s sane?” Soren asked.

  He wasn’t, not exactly, but this was different. Eyes wide, Bette stepped away from the table until the wall at her back gave her no more room to retreat. Everyone looked at her, pointing and whispering. What in the world was she doing?

  Two fuzzy black ears and a thick head emerged from beneath the table, the tablecloth sliding over his long, lean body. Barro must have been lazing at Cat’s feet again and had decided to investigate the newest thing in his domain.

  “Pardon me,” Rollin said quickly, leaving Soren alone, and likely with a thousand questions.

  Barro’s eyes were focused, his whiskers curled forward and mouth hanging open as he smelled Bette. She’d pulled her arms in tight to her chest to protect herself, and to keep her fingers from the feline’s teeth.

  Rollin inserted himself between her and the inquisitive panther just as Barro stood on his back legs and reached out with one large paw. Rollin offered his arm to the panther, who happily wrapped both paws around it, licking and gnawing in his hand. The panther reached for Bette again and Rollin smoothly distracted him with more ear rubs and roughhousing.

  “Did you have to bring him?” he asked Cat.

  Cat shrugged. “If she hadn’t acted like a frightened mouse, Barro would have nothing to chase.”

  Cat stuffed a piece of meat inside a roll and lobbed it at the panther. Distracted, Barro chased down the wobbly bread, flopped onto the floor, his long tail flicking back and forth. Holding the roll between his large paws, he went to work, digging out the savory treat.

  Bette’s hand gripped Rollin’s arm, the other pressed against his back, like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to hold him back, or push him forward. “Can we go?”

  Rollin put his arm around her shoulders and maneuvered her away from Barro, leading her toward the door. She walked so close to him that her skirts wrapped around his leg. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think Barro would be here tonight.”

  “You know it?”

  “We get on well enough. Barro tends to stay at the lady’s side. He’s not much for wandering. You’ll be fine once we get home,” Rollin said the words, then instantly regretted them. She wasn’t coming home.

  Bette slowed her pace. “Rollin, your lord offered me a small home. Paid for and furnished. The gift also included a small allowance.”

  His tone devoid of emotion, he said, “I can take you now if you like. Where is it?”

  “I declined.” She peered up at him, blinking those dark eyelashes and looking utterly bewildered by his question.

  Her answer to Navarre’s offer was supposed to clear things up, to verify in some sense that she was after the lord’s wealth, but he’d never considered what her refusal would mean because he truly didn’t think it would happen.

  Rollin opened his mouth to speak, but the quick and heavy footfalls of boots approaching spurred him into action. Pulling Bette aside, Rollin shielded her with his body, attempting to minimize her fright from the speedy passing of a Guardian on a mission.

  Cutler ran toward them, his long strides eating up the length of the corridor easily. His round face turned reddish from the exertion. Wherever he was going, he needed to get there fast.

  As he rushed by, Cutler turned his head to him and said, “It’s Gian.”

  Never one to be indecisive, to take an extra breath to reconsider what he knew to be right, Rollin hesitated now. His friend was in trouble, and he needed to help, but Bette was terrified of being alone.

  “I’m okay,” Bette said in a rush, releasing his arm and pushing him toward Cutler. “Go!”

  Once again, she’d understood him. He didn’t have to say a word, and she didn’t demand an explanation. With a quick nod to her, Rollin ran headlong after Cutler. Cutler kept crap personal company, but he was a top-notch Guardian with a sharp mind and just enough knowledge about medical emergencies to be sent out on trauma calls. Adrenaline pumped through Rollin’s body, along with fear, because he knew exactly what it meant to see Cutler on the move. Someone was hurt badly. If not Gian, then Gian had done some serious damage to someone else.

  Distantly he heard Bette’s heels clicking on the marble floor as she followed him. She’d wanted him to help his friend, had pushed him on though she was clearly not ready to be on her own.

  Rollin rounded the corner, bursting into the wide corridor of the aristocrats. Up ahead, the Ashford’s door was wide open. As he neared, Cutler’s steady voice resonated into the corridor. “Keep your eyes open, man!”

  Rollin crossed the threshold of the Ashford home, and it took him a moment to comprehend the bloody scene before him. Gian’s father lay still, his shirt saturated in blood. Probably dead. Gian had hit the alarm, blood streaking from the button, then down the wall to where he sat propped up. Cutler was at his side, doing what little he could to keep Gian from choking on his own blood. His fellow Guardian, his friend…

  Rollin surfaced from whatever mire was pulling him under and snapped into action. He went to Mr. Ashford and checked for a heartbeat. Nothing. But then, he didn’t have to tools to verify he hadn’t simply slipped into a sleep. Either way, he could do nothing more for him at this point.

  He came to Gian’s side as Bette stepped into the room. She gasped, then stepped aside, out of the way and silent, allowing them to work.

  “How bad is it?” Rollin asked.

  “Can’t tell. Something isn’t…right. This is out of my wheelhouse,” he said, the words sounding more ominous on account of the man’s scratchy voice.

  “Is Elin…” he whispered.

  “On the way.” Cutler had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when Elin slipped through the doorway, her messy braid swaying against her back. With a lithe grace, she dropped to her knees beside Gian.

  “Move,” Elin ordered Cutler in a wispy voice that somehow held absolute authority.

  She reached out, grabbed two fistfuls of Gian’s shirt, pulled him away from the wall and down to the floor with incredible strength, and leaned over him. No hesitation. Elin got her hands dirty.

  Bette stood back, eyes wide and her hands clasped together before her lips. She’d come farther inside the Ashford’s home than he’d first thought, and was now caught between a dead man and Rollin’s dying friend. This might be too much for her.

  Rollin felt helpless. Nothing in his arsenal of training and experience could fix Gian, but right this second, he needed a purpose. He could help Bette. He needed to get her away from here, to shield her from this tragedy.

  “Rollin!” Elin called. He whipped around to find her and Cutler struggling to hold down Gian. “He’s fighting me. Hold
his arms.”

  He hurried to press Gian’s shoulders to the floor, and when Cutler pinned down Gian’s thrashing legs, Elin was able to finally get a better look at him. Her slim, steady fingers pushed against his abdomen, making certain no organs had been damaged.

  “Anything?” Cutler asked, but Elin never responded as she examined Gian’s ribs next, searching for a break that might have punctured his insides. Clearly, she had no answers.

  Other than the blood at his mouth and the fact that Gian could barely take a breath without choking on his own blood, there were no other signs of injury. They couldn’t see what needed to be fixed.

  Elin moved past his ribs, her nimble fingers searching, prodding his body as she moved ever higher. She pressed against his collarbone, and continued upward over his throat. Her fingers stilled. “Cutler, get Dr. Havelock prepped.”

  Cutler jumped up and raced from the room, giving Gian more freedom to fight their hold again. Gian pushed her hand away, even as he continued to choke. He didn’t want help.

  Dyre rushed through the open door, his long hair and billowing white shirt giving him a look befitting this rich home where he’d been raised. With one glance at his brother lying on the floor, struggling for life, something inside him broke. The look on his face was angry, aggressive. Murderous.

  Drawing his sword, Dyre set his sights on his father. Dead or not, Dyre meant to skewer his father where he lay motionless on the floor.

  “Stop!” Rollin yelled, but when Bette raced to stand between the livid Guardian and his father, Rollin had no time to do anything other than call out to her. “Bette, no!”

  Too late, Bette already blocked Dyre’s path. As tall and regal as any queen, she stood her ground, palm flat and facing the charging Guardian as if the gesture alone would stall his progression.

  “There is no fight to be won here, Guardian,” Bette said, her words strong, final. Sword still raised, Dyre’s hand twitched, the blade catching the light as it flicked slightly, but Bette refused to back down. If anything, she became more commanding. “Kill a man already dead, or save the dying man behind you. Your brother? You can’t have both. Choose.”