Her Wild Protector (Paranormal Romance)

by Naomi Bellina

  Slowly, slowly she drove. Tara saw Marshall’s jaw tense and could almost hear his teeth grind. He finally had enough room to get out, and just as he backed up, the would-be assassin’s car drove past. He flipped them the bird as he flew down the road.

  Marshall cursed.

  “Aren’t you going to go after him?” Tara asked.

  “He’s gone. There’s no way I can catch him now. Besides, he’s not the real problem.”

  “Oh? Someone shooting at me isn’t a problem? I kind of think it is. What is the real problem?”

  “The fact that you can see us is a huge fucking problem.”

  “See who? You need to fill me in and there’s no need to curse at me.” Tara crossed her arms, partly in anger and partly to keep Marshall from seeing how hard her hands were shaking.

  “Yes, we do need to talk.” Marshall put the vehicle in drive and moved forward.

  “What are you doing? I need to go back to my car.”

  “You’re not going anywhere until I figure out what’s going on. I have to check in with headquarters.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “My house. It’s not far from here.” He settled back with a grim expression on his face.

  “I don’t want to go to your house. Let me out of here right now.” Tara tugged the door handle. In retrospect, hopping into this stranger’s car had not been the best idea, but she’d been so pissed and anxious to catch her assailant she hadn’t thought of the consequences.

  “This is for your own safety. Stop pulling that, you’re going to break it. The door is locked. Now be quiet so I can concentrate.”

  Tara opened her mouth to protest further, but a look at Marshall stilled her. He frowned with cold fury and though he still had his sunglasses on, she was sure his eyes were as dark as a moonless night. She leaned back in the seat and focused on getting her breathing back to normal. Her heart raced, and to her annoyance she felt tears prick her eyes as the reality of the situation hit her. She could have been killed! She bit them back, determined not to show weakness in front of this man.

  After several minutes of slow inhalations, a degree of calm settled in.

  “Can you at least tell me who you are?” she asked as they sat at a stoplight.

  To her surprise, he took off his shades, turned in her direction and looked at her with those remarkable green eyes. Though his mouth was still tight, his expression softened a bit.

  “I will, I promise. Right now I want to get you to my house where you’ll be safe. What exactly did you see at the coffee shop?”

  “A gigantic cat, sort of. It looked like a cheetah, but still like a man.”

  Marshall sighed and put his glasses back on. “Not good.”

  The rest of the short trip was spent in silence.

  Chapter Three

  Tara’s state of calm evaporated as they turned off the main road to a side street, then onto a dirt driveway where the Jeep bumped along slowly. Large trees lined the path providing shade, and she heard an array of birds chirping. It was all very bucolic yet surreal after the events at the restaurant. As she often did when in a strange and potentially dangerous situation, Tara pictured herself talking to the police to explain her actions, after something horrific had happened. She feared hopping into a car with a stranger and letting him take her to his house in the woods would not be considered a prudent move.

  Too late now; they were at his garage. He pulled the Jeep inside, and she was relieved to see the area was clean and organized. Shelves were stacked neatly with garage items, and his recycle bin was half-full. Surely, if he was a demented killer there would be signs of his madness. Maniacs didn’t recycle.

  He got out, then came around to her side and opened her door, a gesture Tara hadn’t had performed for her in ages. That settled it—he couldn’t be crazy, he was far too polite.

  Walking into his house was like stepping into the pages of a magazine. Care had obviously gone into choosing the furnishings and everything was tidy and in its proper place, quite the opposite of her cluttered home.

  “You don’t spend much time here, do you?” she asked.

  Marshall tossed his keys on the kitchen counter. “No, I don’t.”

  There were no pictures on the walls, no books or magazines cluttering the tables. Tara glanced around for anything that would give her a clue to Marshall’s personality, but there was nothing.

  “I have to make a few calls. Help yourself to water. Glasses are over the sink.”

  Tara opened a cupboard to reveal a set of sparkling glasses and mugs, neatly arranged on the shelves. She thought of her own chipped, mismatched thrift store purchases and sighed. Even wild men lived better than she did.

  Marshall paced the floor in the living room as he talked on the phone with someone, and Tara observed him while she sipped her water. He did not sound happy with the conversation.

  “It’s Denzel. He’s in the area and he saw me and the woman. Yes, she’s here with me now. She’s safe. No sir.” A pause. “But sir, I think I would be better suited to…” Another pause. “Yes sir.”

  He finally hung up and turned toward her. Though his expression was grim, Tara was again struck by the beauty of his piercing eyes, now focused on her.

  “You’ll stay here with me tonight. Tomorrow we’ll head to our safe house.”

  “What? No, I’m not staying anywhere tonight. And I’m not going anywhere with you tomorrow, either. Safe house?” Tara slammed her glass on the counter. “I don’t know who you are or what kind of game you’re playing, but if you don’t take me home right now I’m calling the police.”

  Marshall opened the refrigerator, got out a beer and popped the top.

  “Come here, sit down,” he said, gesturing to a chair at the spotless dining room table.

  Tara hesitated.

  “Please.”

  She sat, arms crossed over her chest.

  “You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked him.

  “I was born in Illinois…” he began.

  “No, from Earth.”

  His gaze remained intent but the corners of his mouth quirked just the tiniest bit.

  “Yes, I am from Earth. Despite what you’ve seen, I am human.”

  “Okay, Human. Then can you please explain what’s going on here?” she asked.

  “Fair enough.” He took a long pull on his beer. “How about I start by explaining what’s going on with me?”

  Tara nodded.

  “Years ago, I got into trouble with the law. I started as a rowdy teenager and progressed to a delinquent young man. First it was minor incidences, but then it became more serious. Eventually I ended up in prison on a felony charge.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I had the bad fortune to be the driver of a car during a drug deal that went bad.” He lifted his chin, almost defiantly.

  “You just happened to be in the car? You had no idea what was going on?” Tara asked.

  “No, I had an idea. I knew the guys I was with were into dangerous shit and I chose to go along with them, anyway. In the place I lived, you were either a predator or prey. I picked the former. I broke the law and I got caught.”

  Tara said nothing. She knew too many people who came from this situation. Some made it out okay; others didn’t. At least Marshall wasn’t attempting to defend his actions.

  “Anyway, I was facing a lot of prison time, possibly a death sentence, and would have done anything to get out of it. When a man came to visit me in prison and offered me a deal, I grabbed it. He said he was with a secret division of the government, the Department of Supernatural Affairs, or DOSA. If I would go along with an experiment and agree to work for them, I would be released. I was young and dumb and didn’t read the fine print on the contract. Before I knew what had happened, I was lying on a table in a laboratory with wires and tubes running into and out of my body and a man with a scalpel standing over me.”

  He took another drink of his beer and Tara ob
served the white-knuckle grip he kept on the bottle. She suspected this was not an easy tale for him to tell.

  “When I woke up from surgery, the really fun part began. I learned exactly what they’d done to me, what they’d turned me into. I’m now a Metamorph—a creature who’s human but can change at will to an animal form or an energy form. When you saw the blue light, you somehow saw me in my energy form. I spent the next year after the surgery at their training facility learning to use and control my new body.”

  Marshall was silent for a moment. He’d focused on the far wall during most of this recitation, and now he looked directly at her.

  “Wow. That’s quite a story.”

  “You don’t believe me?” he asked. Tara met his gaze and in those stunning green eyes she saw pain. Whatever was going on in his life, he was suffering.

  “I don’t know what to believe, but I don’t know why you would lie to me. I know I saw you and another person become something I can’t explain. Are there others like you?”

  “Yes, there are several hundred of us around the world.”

  “Assuming your story is true, why don’t other people see you when you change into your other forms? Why can I?”

  “I don’t know. It’s especially odd that you could see one of us in partial animal form. That’s what we need to find out, and that’s why you need to be protected. The other man you saw, Denzel, is a member of a rogue group of Metamorphs, ones who have decided they no longer want to serve with DOSA. They’re dangerous and they’ll be coming after you again.”

  “Why? I didn’t do anything.” Tara twirled her water glass, then stopped when she caught Marshall watching her.

  “Not all the Metamorphs turned out exactly as planned. Denzel is a case in point. We were all given psychological exams before we were converted but somehow he slipped past the screening process. He was a good soldier for about a year, enough time for him to learn the ropes and perfect his skills.”

  Marshall tapped a finger on the table and shifted in his chair. He wasn’t a man who sat still often, Tara surmised, especially when he was agitated.

  “He then rounded up other Metamorphs and formed a group of mercenaries who use their enhanced abilities to make money. They hire themselves out and will do anything to earn a paycheck. Apparently, he was working with Annette to…” Marshall stopped. “You don’t need to know any more.”

  “Oh, I think I do. This DOSA doesn’t really sound like a very good organization. They threaten you with death to get you to work for them and have crazy men on their payroll.”

  “They didn’t threaten me. I told you, I made my own decision. If anything, they saved me. I owe them my life.”

  “It sounds to me like you’ve already paid it. You don’t have much of a life.”

  Tara regretted the words the minute they were out of her mouth. Marshall’s jaw tensed so tight she heard teeth grind.

  “So now this Denzel knows I can see him,” Tara said quickly, ready to move past that subject. “So what? No one would believe this bizarre story if I told them. People would think I am crazy—I don’t see how I could be seen as a threat. There’s no reason to kill me.”

  “As far and Denzel is concerned, there are plenty of reasons to view you as a threat. He’s paranoid, greedy and slightly psychotic. He has little regard for human life and would have no problem ending yours if he saw even a possibility of you being a danger to him. He saw you talking to me so he could even believe that you’re an informant. You know who and what he is now, so you have officially become his enemy.”

  “Well, I don’t care about his agenda—so let’s find him and tell him I have nothing to do with you or your organization and I’ll keep my mouth shut. I just want my life back.”

  “We will attempt to do that. In the meantime, you need to stay close to me until we can figure out how this happened and what to do to reverse what happened to you so that you can get back to your life again.”

  How close will we be exactly? she wondered, and a shiver of delight ran up her spine at the thought of increasing her proximity to this attractive man, but then her brain overrode her libido. She was not going to let some stranger, no matter how hot he was, tell her what to do. She knew she was in danger, but would rather place her safety in the hands of someone she knew and trusted. Which was no one, she realized.

  Then she would just have to go to the police and hope for the best, though that option brought a shudder of distaste. She didn’t dislike cops, but wasn’t keen on the idea of involving law enforcement officials in her life. More people telling her what to do.

  Tara stood and went to the kitchen to refill her glass. Her first instinct was to argue with Marshall, but she knew he would not budge. For the time being, she decided to act as though she was willing to go along with his plan.

  “I want to know more about you and this DOSA organization,” she said.

  Marshall had pulled out a chair and was sitting at his desk, staring intently at the computer screen.

  “I can’t tell you anything else about DOSA.”

  “Then tell me more about you. For instance, why you were in that car selling drugs?”

  He looked up at her. “Why does anyone sell drugs? I needed the money. That’s the end of that conversation. I’m going to order us dinner. What do you like on your pizza?”

  Two hours later, as she licked the last bit of sauce from her fingers, Tara yawned, then stood.

  “Where are you going?” Marshall asked.

  “To the bathroom. Chill out.”

  Knowing she didn’t have time to waste, Tara quickly stepped into the bathtub, disconnected the alarm sensor, opened the window slightly and unfastened the screen. She pulled the shower curtain shut behind her so that he would not see what she had done. She then tinkled quickly and was just washing her hands when Marshall opened the door.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  “I’m peeing. Sheesh, what do you think?” Her speech sounded slurred and she yawned again. A horrible realization hit her.

  “You drugged my soda, didn’t you?”

  “I had no choice. I wasn’t sure you would stay here willingly. Come on, I’ll take you to your bed.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and his scent hit her nostrils, a mix of slightly sweaty male, pizza, beer and a hint of something spicy. Woozy though she was, her body reacted instinctively and heat rose between her legs. She pulled away, not wanting to let this man affect her, and more than a little pissed off.

  “What the hell? I don’t like being manip-lu-tated,” she said. Whoops, that wasn’t the right word, but her mouth and brain weren’t working well together.

  “You need to stay here with me. I’m sorry, but I didn’t have a choice. It’s a mild sedative—you shouldn’t feel any aftereffects.”

  “If you hurt me you’re going to be very sorry. I have friends. Big, scary, important friends.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, gripping her more tightly, “and I’m not going to do anything else with you, either. I just need to keep you protected. You’ll be alone in bed, and we’ll leave tomorrow morning. Look, I’m locking the door behind me, from your side. You’re perfectly safe here.”

  Her fog-filled mind registered his words, barely. She stumbled with him to a bedroom, where he lowered her gently to the bed, took off her shoes and put a blanket across her.

  “Sleep well.”

  Hours later, Tara awoke. Her mouth felt like a family of mice had built a home in it, and her eyes itched. She looked around the room and sat up quickly, her stomach lurching. It slowly came to her where she was. She slid off the bed and inched her way to the window. It was dark outside, but cracking the blinds let in a little more light, enough so she could find her shoes.

  She unlocked the bedroom door, pushed it open slowly, then peered into the hallway. All she saw was a low light coming from the kitchen. Holding her shoes, she stepped out into the hall and crept to the living room. A clock ticked some
where, the refrigerator hummed, but otherwise it was silent. Much to her relief, her purse was still on the couch. She grabbed it and tiptoed to the bathroom.

  The window slid open soundlessly and she crawled through, thankful the drop to the ground was short. She still felt unsteady from the drug. Her heart pounded frantically, but the thought of staying in this house and going along with Marshall’s plan was more terrifying than being caught. She quickly put on her shoes, then ran as quietly as she could down the long driveway and out onto the road, not stopping until she came to the gas station she’d seen on her way in.

  The neon lights beckoned like heaven. Overcoming the urge to continue her sprint, she slowed her pace and walked into the store and then the bathroom. A glance in the mirror confirmed she looked as horrible as she felt. Her eyes were puffy, the day’s makeup was smeared and her hair looked like a haystack. Lacking beauty products in her purse, the best she could do to improve her appearance was a quick face wash and tidying of her mane with her fingers. She bought a soda, got the phone number of a cab company from the clerk and went outside, ignoring the look of pity in the older woman’s eyes. Working the graveyard shift, she’d more than likely seen her share of dates gone bad.

  While she waited and watched the sun rise, Tara pondered her next move. Marshall hadn’t molested or hurt her in any way. Her clothes were intact when she awoke and her body unscathed. He sincerely seemed to believe she was in danger and even though she didn’t approve of his methods, he certainly was putting out an effort to guarantee her safety.

  Going to the police seemed like the obvious next step, but as she pictured telling her bizarre story to them, she saw the look of disbelief and suspicion in their eyes. Though they might believe she was kidnapped and drugged, once she started to talk about men who changed to animals and blue lights, a psychiatric evaluation would probably be recommended.

  Though someone at the coffee shop might have witnessed part of the strange events in the parking lot, Tara knew she couldn’t rely on the kindness of strangers to help her, nor did she want to drag outsiders into her life. She did not want the cops or anyone digging into her private affairs and questioning her sanity. More than likely, they would determine she was under stress and suggest she move back to her family. As she’d sworn after leaving Karl, no man was going to make decisions for her ever again. Ever.