Sheltered

by Jen Colly

  “Where are your Gatekeepers?” she asked.

  “Out of sight.” He seemed to waver on whether to remain with her or return to the shelter of the chateau, then finally he asked, “Are you certain you need…air?”

  “I am,” she said, releasing her hold on Steffen and giving him what she hoped was a convincing nod. “I’d like to walk near the trees.”

  Steffen glanced to the trees a good distance away, then down at her bare feet, but only said, “As you wish.”

  He turned back to the chateau, and Bette began the long walk across the grass toward the trees. A gallows walk. There was no other way to describe each slow, sorrowful step.

  She shouldn’t have come to Balinese. Why couldn’t she see what fate intended for her instead of guessing her way through life? If she would have lingered in the countryside, opened her arms and accepted death, she wouldn’t have nearly destroyed a good man’s life.

  Bette stepped past the first tree, surrounded by the shadows of the night, her bare feet gingerly padding over the forest floor. She’d kicked off her slippers to curl up on the couch with Rollin. Hours ago. When she’d thought they had a future.

  Where would she go now? Reaching out, she braced herself on a large tree as she turned back to look over the chateau from a distance. She saw nothing beyond this moment. Fate had guided her here, given her luck and hope, a kind man she would have spent the rest of her life adoring. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

  How could a simple Guardian, even if officially adopted, be heir to this legendary city? Her stomach felt sick and her ears began to buzz. She’d left Balinese with nothing. No mark, no child, and no mate. Oh, what had she done?

  Chapter 25

  Balinese

  Rollin woke slowly from a good, sound sleep. He’d never been one to suffer from wakefulness, but with Bette in his arms he slept much deeper, more restful. Shifting to straighten his neck, he found his movements unhindered. Where was she? He missed waking to her feminine weight pinning some part of him to the bed…or couch. Rollin smiled, the memory of their day spent on the couch flooding back to him. Lifting his head, he cracked his eyelids open and looked around the room.

  With a groan, he pushed himself off the cushions, stretching his arms overhead as he yawned. He went to the kitchen, expecting to find Bette making tea. The dining room and kitchen were empty. Maybe Maeryn or Oriana had needed something. He’d kick himself if he’d slept through the girls asking for help.

  He heard no voices, no movement in the home, but even so, apprehension built. Until Rollin cracked the door to the girls’ bedroom and found them both safely tucked into bed, still sleeping. Maeryn hadn’t moved much, her body still curled up in a protective manner, which wasn’t surprising considering how Oriana tended to flail. Lying flat on her back, Oriana was sprawled nearly sideways across the bed. One arm rested above her head and over her sister’s middle, her other hand half propped up her face, squishing her cheek nearly to her eye.

  Quietly, he closed the door, returning the girls to their sanctuary. Again, Rollin glanced around, befuddled. The lights were off in Navarre’s library. If not with the girls, or in the kitchen, then where was Bette?

  Sleeping upright on occasion had never bothered Rollin, but Bette might have found it uncomfortable. He should have been more considerate. After all, they’d both been rousted from sleep to come to Maeryn’s rescue. She must be exhausted, and a woman like Bette would never intentionally doze on a couch.

  Ducking his head into Navarre and Cat’s room, he flipped the light on, frowning at the empty bed. His adrenaline spiked, that surge of frenzied power before battle, or at the head of a tragedy. Rollin knew this feeling well, and he knew exactly what had him alarmed.

  Bette wasn’t here. He somehow felt it, but that didn’t stop him from retracing his steps, thoroughly checking each room. Bette would never leave, not without him. She didn’t like going into the corridors alone. Hell, she even had trouble remaining calm inside a home if the door wasn’t locked.

  Rollin went straight to the door, staring in stunned disbelief. The bolt was unlocked. She’d left. Just walked out. What was so important that she couldn’t wait for him, that she wouldn’t even tell him she was going somewhere? Rubbing his hand over his short hair, Rollin scanned the living room, at a complete loss. He didn’t even know where to look. The only other place she might have gone was home.

  He picked up the phone and called Soren’s home, though it wasn’t Soren he was after.

  “Hello?” Faith answered, the word on the heels of a yawn.

  “Hey, it’s Rollin. I need a favor.”

  “Sure,” she said, her kindness shining through as usual. “Anything.”

  “I need you over at Navarre and Cat’s. Like now,” Rollin said, unable to pull the urgency from his voice.

  “Calm down. I’m coming,” she said, then the phone clicked into silence on her end.

  Rollin hung up the phone and stuffed his feet into his shoes. He was desperate to dash out the door the second Faith cracked it open. Luckily, she had firsthand experience with how his family worked. This was certainly not the first time she’d come here for what could only be defined as emergency babysitting. True to her word, she must have jogged from a couple corridors over, because Faith charged through the door in less than a minute.

  Faith looked like she’d just woken up, her long black hair twisted up in a messy, half falling down bun, stray strands breaking free left and right. Making a rolling motion with her arm, she spoke the language of a Guardian when she demanded, “Well, report.”

  That Faith was used to this sort of thing was disturbing, but at the same time, a huge relief. Rollin rattled off the necessities quickly as he moved to the doorway. “Cat is having the baby. Maeryn had an episode. She and Oriana are sleeping. Stay with them? Please?”

  Faith sent him a quick salute, and with her confirmation, he was gone. Running down the corridor. The city was beginning to stir, and without having to dodge too many people, he made good time. Bypassing the elevators, he hit the stairs, flying down them as fast as his feet would carry him.

  Rollin sped through the corridor, his sense of urgency growing the closer he got to his home. He hoped his door was locked. Prayed Bette was safely secured inside. At his door, he reached out and turned the doorknob, and… His door was unlocked. Not a good sign.

  “Bette!” he called. No answer.

  It didn’t take him long to search his home. She wasn’t sleeping in his bed, or out of earshot in the shower. It wasn’t as if he could overlook a full-grown woman. She simply wasn’t here, and she had nowhere else to go.

  He wasn’t giving up, but he needed help. Rollin left his home, racing through the corridor and back up to the first level. His heart beat heavily in his chest, partly from exertion, but mostly due to the growing panic flooding his veins.

  Speeding past the dining hall, he dodged the few people there, then headed down the corridor unofficially reserved for the Guardians of the city. Training room. Elin’s little clinic. Meeting room.

  Grabbing the doorframe of the meeting room, Rollin used it as an anchor to redirect his momentum, hurtling himself inside. Ignoring Tarmon where he lounged on the desk, gossiping with Cutler, Rollin went straight for the massive switchboard.

  “You get your answers?” Tarmon asked.

  “She’s gone,” Rollin said as he grabbed his radio from its cradle and punched in his number. The number fifty-two glowed against the bright white of the fat, round button. He would have to wait a few seconds for Briona to register that he’d signed in before she could respond.

  “Ouch.” Tarmon came to stand at his side, and quietly asked, “What the hell did you say to scare her off?”

  “She didn’t leave me. She’s gone. There’s a difference. She wouldn’t…” He took a breath. God, but he was twitchy without her, his thoughts scattered,
his whole body strung tight. “Something happened to her.”

  “All right,” Tarmon said, smacking him heavily on the shoulder. “Say no more. I’m with you.”

  Tarmon pulled his radio and punched his button, ready to take on whatever was coming next.

  “Briona?” Rollin called into the radio, then he turned and asked Tarmon, “Why would you help me?”

  “Look at you. You’re mad for the girl. You’re all jacked up, man,” Tarmon said with an easy half grin. Rollin glared at him, but Tarmon elaborated in a matter of fact tone, “Even you can’t think straight through this one.”

  The radio in Rollin’s hand crackled and Briona’s agitated voice came through loud, clear, and heavily accented. “You’re messin’ me up, Guardian. You’re no’ on shift.”

  “Bette is missing,” Rollin said, the words hitting him in the gut. Saying them out loud to Briona made this infinitely more real.

  “The same woman ya had me to trap inside yer home? Wonder why she’s no’ keen on stayin’,” Briona scoffed.

  “This is serious.” Rollin scowled at the radio, realizing for the first time why it was that no one knew exactly where Briona’s electronic fortress was hidden. He wanted to strangle her. “This isn’t like her. Bette has been through hell. She doesn’t know the layout of the city, Briona, and she’s easily frightened. I’m not asking you to help me. Help her.”

  A long, tense moment of silence passed, then Briona popped back on the radio. “I’ll check in with each pair of Guardians. It’ll take time.”

  “Thank you,” he said, but had no intention of lingering in the meeting room to await her findings. He had a city to search.

  Rollin jogged out the door, and Tarmon followed suit, keeping pace surprisingly well for having a much shorter stride. They’d made it to the end of the corridor when Tarmon spoke in a tone Rollin had never heard come out of his mouth before. Cautionary. “You heard Jovan left, right?”

  “How did you…” Rollin snapped his head to the side, glaring at Tarmon. “I thought he might head above. Sometimes hunting brings him down. Did he take Barro?”

  “He’s not hunting deer, and he didn’t take the oversized house pet. I was standing at the gate when he gave the whole damn city the brush off.” Tarmon glanced behind them at the sound of footsteps in the corridor. Unconcerned, he continued, “Jovan was moving fast. Like on his way to Paris before dawn fast.”

  Rollin came to a dead stop in the center of the main corridor. Torn.

  “Yeah, I figured you didn’t know.” Sweeping his hair back, Tarmon let out a sigh, then said, “Listen, your girl’s new here, right? How many places has she actually been?”

  “She’s only gone from my home to the Boulevard, the dining hall, or the Casteel wing. Nothing more. Why?”

  “Listen, man, I doubt she’s even stepped off a familiar path. I’ll start at the dining hall. You get to tell Mama Cat about her runaway. I’m not touching that one,” Tarmon said, hands up in mock surrender.

  “Do you even remember what Bette looks like?” Rollin asked as Tarmon separated from him.

  “I pay attention,” he said over his shoulder.

  Taking a small amount of comfort in knowing he wouldn’t be the only one searching for Bette, he split ways with Tarmon, heading down a couple levels to Dr. Havelock’s offices. Elin might be overseeing the birth of the Casteel child, but this wasn’t just any birth, and she would have Dr. Havelock standing by for any unforeseen emergencies.

  Finding which room Cat occupied was easy. No other patient room doors were closed. Rollin slipped inside, closing the door behind him, and promptly froze at the sight of genuine pain stretching Cat’s face, her cheeks pink, sweat on her brow. The sounds coming from her were like nothing he’d ever heard before. Navarre held her hand, his face white as a sheet as he watched his mate suffer through something he had no ability to take on for her.

  After what seemed an eternity, Cat’s head fell back to the pillow, her breathing evening out and her body relaxing as the contraction let go. No pain, no tension.

  “Rollin,” Cat said, and he turned his attention to her questioning gaze. “Why are you here? What happened?”

  “Jovan went above. The last Guardian to see him thought he might be headed to Paris,” Rollin said.

  “Then why are you here?” she asked as her breathing began to deepen.

  “I’m not going after him,” Rollin said. “Bette is missing. She comes first.”

  Cat gave what appeared to be the beginning of a nod before another contraction caught up to her, cutting off anything she might have attempted to say. Rollin didn’t know what to do as Cat fought through another contraction, didn’t know where to look. He’d never seen Cat in this much pain, had never once worried she couldn’t survive anything life had to throw at her until this moment.

  “Elin!” Cat called when the pains subsided enough for her to find her voice once again. “If I’m not up and walking by dusk, I’ll have your head!”

  “You’d have to catch me first,” Elin said from the other side of the room in a strangely calm, and somewhat distracted voice. “So relax.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me to relax! My son is out there,” Cat said, a formidable force even while stuck in a bed.

  “No offense, but he’s a big boy.” Elin moved gracefully around the small room, making sure everything was prepared to bring the helpless child into the world. “If Jovan wanted you to babysit him, he would have asked your permission to leave.”

  “Elin.” Cat reached out and grabbed a fistful of Elin’s shirt, drawing her closer, face-to-face. “Get this baby out of me. Now.”

  Elin glanced up at Rollin, sending him a look of pure exasperation, “Do you see what I have to deal with?”

  He hated to ask, needed to keep moving, but… “Do you want help, Elin?”

  “No need,” she said with a quick smile. “She can’t fight me and a contraction at the same time. She’ll let go in a few seconds.”

  Sure enough, Elin had the timing down. Cat let loose a cry, and reached for the more stable support of the bed and Navarre, all her focus turning inward. Elin pulled away with ease, quickly turning to shoo him from the room. “Go on. Get. We’re busy.”

  Outside the room, Rollin scrubbed his hand over his face as he looked back at the closed door. He’d seen a lot of things in his young life, but that in there scared the hell out of him.

  “Rollin,” Briona called.

  Rollin almost dropped his radio as he scrambled to bring it up to his mouth. “I’m here.”

  “Steffen escorted a female beyond the Gatekeepers this evening,” Briona said.

  “Was it Bette?”

  “Doona know for sure,” she said, more reserved. “Steffen only said she’s no’ comin’ back.”

  “No.” The word barely left his lips and he was running toward the gate, any thoughts of furthering the conversation forgotten.

  Bette might not be his fated mate, but this intense need inside him to find her safe and sound, to hold her close once again, to live his life with her by his side, was certainly love.

  He ran though the outer corridor, the cellar, into the chateau and past the Gatekeepers. Rollin did a double take at Steffen standing near the door and slid to a stop. The Gatekeeper looked like hell. His face had thinned out, his eyes hollow. Steffen only seemed to have an urge to fight the pull of the sun when tragedy struck his city. He’d returned to duty tonight after the demon had entered the city, but Rollin wasn’t sure how much more the man could take.

  “Going after the woman?” Steffen asked.

  “You told Briona that this woman was not coming back. How would you know?”

  “I know that bleak look all too well,” Steffen said, his words holding a dark edge. “Something inside of her has died. That little piece of hope, that single thing that keeps her from th
e sun.”

  “Where is she?”

  Steffen pointed to the trees, straight ahead. “In the woods.”

  Rollin took off in the direction Steffen had indicated. There was no truly urgent rush for time if she was still in the forest. Dawn was hours away yet, but that wasn’t the point. He didn’t know what had happened to her, why she’d come above, why she’d left him. Or if she truly waited for the sun.

  The incline of the hill up to the forest slowed him, but he pushed on. He still had to find her in the trees, and he could only hope she hadn’t strayed from the narrow, overgrown path.

  Scanning the trees to his left and right, he hurried through the forest, ducking branches and leaping over anything blocking his path. Halfway through and he didn’t see her, hadn’t heard her. Was she still here? Had she been hurt?

  He stopped, hoping to hear her over his pounding heart, his heavy breathing, and then it happened. He heard a feminine voice in the distance, muffled, but clearly engaged in a conversation. Was this Bette? He couldn’t tell from this far away. Who could she be talking to out here?

  Rollin followed the sound of the voice until it became familiar, undeniably Bette. She sat on a fallen tree, still wearing her pajamas and brushing tears from her cheeks. He couldn’t move, dare not breath. He’d found her.

  He saw no one around her, heard no other sounds around them. Was she talking to herself? Then Bette crossed her ankle over her knee, bent over her foot to pick something from her heel. Suddenly she said, “I haven’t made it very far. I blame you.”

  She was talking to her foot.

  “You need to move,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she began to weep. “I have to go, I have to…”

  Bette was leaving him the same way she’d come to him. Barefoot, crying, and afraid of something he had yet to understand.

  Chapter 26

  Balinese

  “Why can’t I do this?” Bette dropped her foot to the ground, frustrated and angry. Heartbroken. She bent, elbows on knees, and scratched her fingers over her scalp, tangling her hair into a wild mess. Eyes closed tight, she rocked slightly, whispering, “I need to move. Just move. Get up.”