Protective: Legatum - Book 1

by Sylvian, LuLu M

  “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” Morgan soothed her, stroking her back as sobs claimed her again.

  Honey’s breathing evened out. She sat up slightly to look Morgan in the eyes. “Why are you naked?”

  “Yeah, about that…” Morgan began.

  “I’m upset and delusional right now, aren’t I? I really hit my head hard.”

  “You’re upset. I don’t know about delusional. We do need to take you up to the hospital to get that gash stitched up and make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

  “You were over there then there was a big dog-wolf thing over here. Then it was gone, and you’re here, and your clothes—” She glanced over his shoulder. “—are back there.” She pointed to where Morgan’s clothes lay scattered in the street.

  “I don’t think you’re delusional, but you might not want to mention what you’re about to see. Can you get up okay?”

  Honey nodded then stood, using Morgan and the car door to help pull herself up. When she turned to face Morgan again, she was confronted by the large brown wolf that had bit her attacker.

  “Oh, my God!” She recoiled against the car.

  The wolf whined and wagged its tail. Honey slowly lowered herself to sit on the back seat. The wolf nuzzled her in the face, licking at her tears.

  “Huh?”

  The wolf turned and trotted back towards Morgan’s clothes. The animal stood over Morgan’s clothes. Honey blinked. The animal was gone. Morgan stood pulling his jeans on.

  “Morgan?” Honey leaned back in the car, resting her head against the seat back. She could not be seeing what she was seeing. She took deep breaths, trying to regulate her pounding heart and calm her frayed nerves. The attacker had hit her head really hard against the car. She reached up to feel the cut and blood on her forehead. “Well, if this is some unconscious delusion at least I have to head wound to justify it.”

  Fully dressed, Morgan approached the car and leaned in to check on Honey “Are you okay?”

  “I think you might need to check me into a mental ward.”

  “You’re fine.” He picked up her bag and placed it on the seat next to her. “Why don’t you rest. We’ll call the police from the hospital.”

  Honey stared at him.

  “Keys?”

  She dug in her bag, then handed him a handful of keys on an oversized silver hoop.

  “May I suggest you not tell anyone what you just saw when we are at the hospital.”

  Honey nodded. “I don’t think they would believe me anyway.”

  *

  Honey relaxed as best as she could on the emergency room gurney. Morgan sat behind her out of her field of vision. He had held her hand until the nurse came in and shooed him off to the corner so she could “get at her patient.” The police were allowed in and asked questions while the numbing agent in Honey’s forehead took effect.

  Honey gave her report, although she couldn’t say much. She had only seen the attacker’s forearm and that stupid yellow jacket. Her necklace was missing, but nothing else seemed to have been stolen. She couldn’t tell the police the attack triggered a flashback to a time when her ex had beat her. She couldn’t tell them about Morgan.

  Morgan gave a better statement. He had actually witnessed the attack. He had seen the mugger who looked like a strung-out kid. He appeared to be in his early twenties, of medium height and fair complexion, wearing jeans, a dark knit cap and a weatherproof, safety-yellow jacket with reflector tape. Morgan saw the man grab Honey and push her into the car. That’s when a large dog came out of nowhere, jumped the attacker, then ran off again. It all happened in the blink of an eye. Concerned for her safety, he really hadn’t paid attention to getting a description of the dog. Just that it had been big and brown, and Morgan considered it to be a hero since it had scared off Honey’s attacker. When he reached her immediately after it all happened, she was badly shaken up, and bleeding, so he brought her to the hospital.

  Morgan took the card of the investigator then took Honey home.

  He had to go out of the way to pick up fast food for dinner.

  “I’m not delivering very well on this promise of a better date, am I?” he asked as he handed her the paper bag full of fried food.

  She sniffled and groaned. “I’m beginning to equate fast food with bad dates. You’ll have to make up for it better next time. At least, they got my grilled chicken right.”

  “Next time, I’ll do better. Promise. How’s your head?”

  “What head? They gave me some good drugs.” Honey laughed. “I’m not going to be happy when they wear off.”

  She pointed at a spot for him to park in front of her building.

  Morgan unlocked the outer door and held it open for Honey.

  “It’s an old house they converted,” Honey said. “I’m in the back.” Morgan followed Honey down the short hallway. She took the keys and fumbled with the lock on her door. “My cat Calliope will probably hide once she sees you. She doesn’t like people much. That includes me.” The door swung inward. Honey stepped in and glanced down. “Hi, baby.” She cooed at a cat.

  The cat hissed at Morgan as he stepped into the apartment. He closed the door behind him. The cat shot back down the hallway and into the living room before disappearing.

  “That’s normal,” Honey said, a small hitch in her voice betrayed her inner nervousness. She was obviously still shaken and upset from the attack.

  Morgan followed her into the apartment, past the kitchen and into a small living room that comfortably fit a sofa and television. Next to a wall of windows, Honey’s books shelves were covered with books and DVDs. Morgan suspected the closed door opposite the kitchen led to either a bedroom or a bathroom. Most likely both, since her home did not look like a studio apartment and nothing indicated that Honey slept in this room.

  Honey kicked off her shoes and curled onto the couch. “Can you stay for a bit? Talk to me,” she asked. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

  “Of course. I’ll stay as long as you need me to. Can I use your bathroom?”

  “Sure.” Honey pointed to the closed door. “It’s through the bedroom there. Don’t mind the mess.”

  Morgan stepped through the door. The mess of Honey’s bedroom made Morgan grin. The room was tidy. Dirty clothes were actually in a woven laundry basket in the bathroom. The only mess Morgan saw was the unmade double bed. The bed looked comfortable though barely big enough to fit him curled up against her. He shook his head. Not tonight. Not in the state Honey’s nerves were in. Not with her injured head.

  The bathroom was exactly where Honey said it would be. Morgan finished his need of the room, washed his hands, and stepped back into the living room.

  Honey sat in the corner of the couch, knees pulled into her chest, hugging herself. She shook like a cornered rabbit. Morgan sat in the opposite corner, afraid to touch her, not certain how she would respond to his touch. She was so beautiful. But the bandage across her forehead reminded him he had failed her, had let her get hurt.

  “Honey, I can go. Clearly, I’m making you nervous.” She shook like a cornered rabbit. While Morgan tended to not think he had wolf tendencies, her clear display of fright aroused the fierce need to protect her.

  “No,” she whimpered, shaking her head.

  “You sure? If you need me to leave to feel safe, I’ll understand.”

  Tears ran down Honey’s cheeks. There had been a slow, but steady trickle from her eyes since Morgan had held her in the street. She swiped at them impatiently. “Stupid, I know. I just can’t seem to make them stop.” She heaved a deep breath. I actually feel safe with you. I have for a long time. Just… Okay, I’m weirded out. Let me process this. But stay, please.”

  Morgan nodded.

  “You want a drink? Do you have any wine? Will a drink help?”

  Honey nodded.

  Morgan left the couch and headed to the kitchen. He found a few bottles of wine on the counter. He recognized one of the labels. He smiled at the prot
ective mother wolf looking out from the label at him. Lupercalia Vineyards. This was one of his sister Caro’s specialties. He located a wine corker, tugged the cork from the bottle, and filled two wine glasses with dark red liquid. He picked up the two glasses and returned to the living room.

  Honey held up a small gold object. “Look. I found my charm. It was caught in my bra.”

  “I don’t think you ever lost your charm. Ohhh… You mean your pendant, right? That’s good.” Morgan handed her a wine glass. “Here. You have excellent taste in wine. This is one of my favorites.”

  “The chain is gone, but this is what matters.” She showed Morgan the small gold piece, before taking the glass from him. Honey wrapped her hands carefully around the bowl of the glass and began sipping.

  She sighed as the tangy liquid slid down the back of her tongue and she swallowed.

  “I saw what I saw right?” She asked, glancing up at him, still pulled into herself.

  Morgan nodded.

  “How?” The question, almost a whisper, her voice small and quiet.

  Gently, Morgan eased in behind her, and she curled again his chest. He wrapped an arm protectively around her. Honey didn’t protest or flinch from his touch.

  “We don’t really know. It’s genetic. We actually got confirmation about that recently. It’s in the DNA, so it is passed from parents to children.”

  “You can’t bite me and turn me into one?”

  “No,” Morgan chuckled low in his chest. “I’m not infectious.”

  He felt Honey relax more, apparently comfortable against his chest. “Do you have to turn with the full moon?” Her questions all related back to what she knew from science fiction.

  “The moon has no bearing on my abilities. We used to think it was some curse or a gift from the gods. My family claims to be descendants of the Roman gods,” Morgan explained between sips of wine.

  “Rome, huh? I never really think of wolves when I think of Roman history. But then again, I know less about mythology than I really should. I mean, I know art history, but my focus is really more on contemporary collections. Twentieth century.”

  “Twentieth century, huh? What’s your favorite? I’m going to hazard a guess and say it’s not abstract expressionism.”

  Honey laughed a bit. “No, not abstract expressionism. It’s mid-century realism. Actually, Frida Kahlo got me interested. Her self-portraits of pain. It was hip to like her in some of the modeling circles I traveled in. When it came time to find something else to do, I let Frida be my gateway drug into the art world.” As Honey spoke, she uncurled her legs and squirmed deeper into Morgan’s embrace.

  “I’m a crap artist, but I love art. Although I can’t draw it myself, I can understand what an artist is trying to say. I can look at a painting and feel what the artist wanted me to feel. I feel their pain, their happiness, their fear, whatever. Some of the greatest paintings ever were done out of desperation and anger. I thought working in a gallery, or a museum would let me connect people to art while I got to maintain my glamorous style, something I thought I couldn’t live without. I think I was addicted to fashion.” She scoffed. “Look at me now. Dressing up is wearing jeans without holes in them, a clean shirt with buttons, and shoes that aren’t sneakers. I no longer have style. And now, I have facial scars.”

  “The doctor said it will barely leave a mark after it heals. You have a very comfortable style, Honey. One that says you are okay with who you are, and you don’t need designer clothes to convince people to like you.”

  “I’m comfortable? I’m not sure I want to be thought of as comfortable.”

  “Comfortable is good. It shows you have the confidence to be yourself. It makes people at ease around you. Comfortable means not complicated.”

  She huffed. “I am very complicated.”

  “Not complicated does not mean not complex. I would say you are complex. There is a lot about you, Honey, that is very interesting. But you aren’t complicated. You don’t play games, and you don’t bring unnecessary drama.”

  “I don’t know. Tonight seemed pretty dramatic.”

  “Ah, yes, but that wasn’t your drama, was it? That was foisted upon you.” He peered at her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She patted the arm wrapped around her. “Sore. Scared. Shaken up.” She sighed. “I’m safe with you. Right?”

  “Yes, Honey, you are very safe with me.”

  “Even though you can do this werewolf thing? That is what I saw, right?”

  “Uh huh. We just say wolf. Werewolves have all those other requirements—bites, silver bullets, full moons. I can shift as necessary.”

  “Do werewolves exist? You know the ones that do have those—” Honey paused. “—requirements.”

  “Not that we know of. There are other things out there though. They tend to keep themselves pretty well hidden. And I’m sure there are things that I don’t know about. Legends and myths come from somewhere. Who’s to say that some creatures like that don’t exist.”

  “So you can change whenever you want? And instantly?”

  Morgan reached his hand out in front of hers. She watched as his hand shimmered, then began to change shape. Bones shortened and thickened, nails elongated, brown fur appeared. Just as quickly, the process reversed, and Honey was staring again at his long tapering fingers.She placed her hand on his and began petting his fingers. “Does it hurt?”

  “It feels like electricity. Currents and tingles. It’s not pain, but it’s a sharp feeling.” He looked at her. “You are being remarkably calm about all of this.”

  “I am remarkably drugged up. I’m uncharacteristically calm about everything right now. I think the wine is over-helping. Do it again,” she demanded. This time his hand rested on hers. When his hand shifted back, Morgan wrapped his fingers around Honey’s and held her.

  “Do all of you change like that?”

  Morgan hummed, contemplating his answer. “Some faster than others.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m asking a lot of nosy questions.”

  “It’s okay, Honey. You want to know what that was all about. I like that you want to know more about me and that I can share this part of me with you. It means I don’t have to hide anything. No secrets.”

  “What if I have secrets, Morgan?”

  “I suspect that, in time, you will be willing to share them with me. Do you have secrets, Honey?”

  “I don’t think I have secrets. I don’t know, I might. I try not to lie since that’s asking for trouble. I don’t have to remember who I told what that way. Maybe secrets are like that. I don’t have them so I don’t have to remember what I’m hiding from whom.”

  “How about if you find a secret and you think I should know it, you can tell me.”

  “I can tell you my secrets?”

  “You can tell me anything.” Morgan’s voice lowered with emotion as he spoke into her hair, his lips brushing the back of her head. He released his hold of her hand, and she began tracing around his fingers again.

  They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Honey exploring Morgan’s hand with her own, Morgan content to hold her.

  “Where did you go, Morgan?” Honey asked, breaking the silence.

  “I had a meeting in Santa Maria yesterday.”

  “No, before that. Why were you gone so long?”

  Morgan shook his head. “I’m sorry. I had no way of contacting you. My phone was destroyed. I was called out of town for a meeting then something went wrong. I ended up someplace I couldn’t get out of.”

  “Meetings? That almost sounds like keeping secrets. I thought you said no secrets?”

  “That’s withholding information until I know exactly what’s going on. How about when I know what’s going on and what happened, I will tell you. Until then, it’s speculation and making up answers simply to have answers. Wouldn’t you rather have the facts instead?”

  “Yeah, facts are good. I thought you decided you didn’t like me after that date.”
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br />   “I like you very much and wanted to ask for a second chance since I botched that evening up royally.”

  “I thought I had messed things up,” Honey confessed. She leaned over and scooped up Calliope. The cat settled into her lap. She picked up the small pendant from the table in front of her and clipped it to the cat’s collar. “Keep this for me until I get a new chain.”

  “That was on me, and I was late this evening. I’ll take you out for a real date tomorrow. I’ll take you to your favorite restaurant. I’ll go get a tie, if I have to.”

  “No need for a tie. Do you like Indian food? I’d like to go out for Indian, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Indian sounds great. You aren’t closing?”

  “No. Lana switched hours, I open in the mornings now.”

  “I’ll pick you up at work. And this time, don’t leave until I’m there.”

  Honey sighed, “I’ll wait for you. I get off early now. So you need to be there before five. You want to watch a movie? I’m still all nerves.” Calliope jumped from Honey’s lap as she leaned forward and clicked the TV on with the remote. She pressed play on the DVD player. The same science fiction movie she had been watching the night before began playing. Blue aliens fought for the preservation of their home world against hostile invading forces.

  “Are these the blue aliens you told me were so hot?”

  “Totally hot. You remembered?”

  “And shapeshifters are sexy and scary.”

  “Yeah,” Honey sighed. “And strong and protective and safe.”

  Honey fell asleep leaning against Morgan, halfway through the movie. Morgan let her sleep until the epic ended. She felt warm and soft as she rested against him. She fit perfectly in his arms. Morgan could hold her like this forever, but she needed proper rest. As much as he wanted to hold her all night, she really should be in her own bed.

  He shifted his weight and picked her up as he stood. He toed open the door to her bedroom and began gently laying her on top of the spread.

  Honey’s eyes blinked open. She rested a hand on Morgan’s strong forearm. “Would you mind crashing on my couch tonight? I would feel better knowing you’re out there.” She reached behind her, pulled a pillow to her chest and handed it to Morgan. “There are blankets in the trunk I use for a coffee table.”