Following him, she stopped to lean against the sink. Her eyes watched him with humor as he began pulling steaks out the freezer. “You know I have some evil female ideas of my own too.” She teased.
Looking over at her beneath a crooked brow, he grinned. “I don’t doubt that.”
She offered to help him as he went through the motions of cooking the meat he had seasoned, only to be pushed, forcibly out of the kitchen. “I have to show off that I can cook, if I’m going to get you to hang around.” His teasing words were thrown over his shoulder as he walked back to the kitchen.
With nothing else to do, she sat down on the couch, gazing out the window she watched more snow beginning to fall again. Never had she seen so much white in one place in all her life. Digging for any memories that she may not even possess, she was startled as bright images began flashing behind her eyes. She suddenly felt a memory surface of sun and soft sand. A soft, salty breeze lifted her bound hair off her shoulders. She saw herself standing in the surf, cool water lapping at her.
Don’t get swept away, mermaid, a teasing voice called from behind. The voice was so comforting, bringing warmth deep down in her consciousness. But she didn't have the means to name who it was and where she was in that instance.
The more she struggled to pull more of the memory into the light, the heavier her head felt with unbearable pressure once more. A wave of dizziness swept over her, making her stomach clench in painful spasms. The warm flowing of blood from her nose, trailed down her suddenly cold face. She quickly began losing strength enough to hold her head up.
Black dots danced in tantalizing circles before her eyes. Her episodes had never been this bad at the labs, but then; she had never gone a day without Malca’s injections either. Her vision spun out of control as her head fell weakly against the back of the couch. Her lungs felt starved for air, as if she were being held under water and denied the sweet taste of oxygen.
* ~ * ~*
Blood…
The overpowering scent made Doyle’s head snap up from his task of pulling the meat out of the skillet. Jerking around to face the living room, his eyes widened in shock as he watched Aria slum against the back of the couch. A thin trail of blood ran down her pale face, staining the front of the blue sweater.
Rushing into to the couch, his urgent hands gripped the sides of her face as her eyes rolled back in her head. His bear felt full of dread. What was wrong with his mate? There was no scent of sickness clinging to her skin, but her scent…her scent had changed. Humans usually smelled of vanilla to shifters. But there was no such scent on Aria anymore.
“Wake up. Aria!” He demanded, firmly patting at the side of her face. Drunkenly, her eyelids slowly lifted. Her eyes glowed like a bright sapphire flame and then like a dying flame, the shimmering glow behind her eyes dissolved.
“Doyle…?” Her voice was weak, as if she wasn’t fully awake. Brushing his protective hands away, she began shaking off the lethargic force that seemed to leech onto her mind. Aria pushed up from her slouched position. She pressed the heel of her hand against the ache that began to grow in her skull.
Leaning forward, Doyle gazed at her with concern. “Aria, are you alright?” When she weakly nodded, she turned her focus to stare out the frosted up window. Reaching down the side of his pants, his rough hands ripped at the bottom of his pants leg. Bringing the cloth to her chilled face, he gently wiped away the trail of blood from her nose. Something wasn’t right, but something told him that she wouldn’t have any answers for him or for herself.
Taking the blood soaked cloth from his limp hand, Aria smiled up at him. Her flaxen hair flowed over one shoulder in a shimmering wave as she attempted to brush it back behind her ear.
“Is lunch ready?”
Nodding silently, Doyle’s lips curled up into a tight smile. Aria’s face may have lit up with false bravo, but her eyes didn't lie. She knew a war was waging within her body. But it cost him nothing to let her wage it on her own, for the time being.
“Let’s go eat.”
7
His face softened as he sat down on the edge of the bed next to his sleeping house guest. Aria laid on her side with the heavy quilt pulled up to her chin. Her sleek golden locks lay in a disarray of soft waves across the pillow like rays of golden sunlight sweeping over the earth, bathing it in a shimmering radiance. Moaning in her sleep, her face snuggled even deeper into the soft pillow as her lips parted slightly. At the sight of her plumb rosy lips he knew they were just begging to be kissed. Bending forward, Doyle was seconds away from tasting her lips when the annoying voice of his bear echoed in the corridors of his mind.
Remember the last time you tried to kiss her?
Snapping back into an upright position, his hand reached up to touch his eye. It no longer hurt. Shifters naturally healed faster and easier than the typical human did, but the memory of her punching him when he’d first tried to kiss her caused him to cautiously cover the area. Would she have the same reaction if he tried to kiss her again? Looking back down at her soft parted lips, the temptation almost was enough for him to ignore the possible outcome—almost.
Instead he found his hand reaching out to trail softly down the side of her supple cheek. He smirked as she frowned before she brushed his hand away in her sleep. Softly chuckling, he rose carefully from the mattress. Moving without making a sound, he closed the door behind him with a soft click.
His intention was to wake her for breakfast before heading into town, but letting her sleep a while longer seemed to be the best option. Deciding a breakfast out in town was more reasonable, he moved to the kitchen to put away the food he’d set out. After placing the bounty of eggs and honey ham back into the fridge, he was just closing the door as his bear sat up from his reclined position with alertness. The sound of a soft crunching of snow reached his ears as it swiftly turned to the sound of boots on the porch. Someone was here.
Striding into the living room, his hand was nearly grasping the door handle when a sharp knock echoed from the other side. Gripping the door knob, he took a deep inhale as he took in all scents from the other side of the door. Ignoring the scents of fresh snow and earth, he zeroed in on the person knocking more forceful the second time. It was a male, at first he would have guessed the scent was human, but it smelled off. Instead of the vanilla scent of a human it smelled rotten and mixed with a sweet scent.
Jerking the door open, he glared at the man before him. The man was of average height, no more than six feet if he had to guess. He wore a dark navy suit with dark sunglasses shielding his eyes. His black hair was short in a typical military style. Everything from first glance told Doyle that this man was accustomed to getting what he wanted.
“Can I help you?” he asked as the other man seemed to be sizing him up as well. Nodding his head silently, the man reached into his jacket pocket, withdrawing a badge.
“I’m with the U.S. Marshal’s office; I needed to ask you a few questions about an escapee that you may have seen about.” Slowly he held out his badge for Doyle’s eyes, though it looked authentic he still wasn’t buying it.
“I don’t see why you’d be looking here. With all the snow storms we’ve had up this way, it would be rather difficult for someone to run through it.”
“Can I come in? It may be more comfortable if we discuss this inside.” He asked, doing his best to pear through the gap behind Doyle as he held the door open. His eyes calculating took in everything that they touched.
“No.” He bit out, the muscles in his jaw tightened.
Something was wrong with the man before him. He seemed too…everything. He was too edgy and too eager to get inside his home. He was searching for something and it wasn’t an escaped convict. If this was the person after his mate, he wasn’t about to let him within an inch of her.
Nodding his head understanding, the man put his badge away only to pull out a photo from his pocket. Thrusting it at Doyle he asked, “Have you seen this woman?”
Keepi
ng his face a blank, Doyle gripped the photo in his hand. Looking at it, to his observer—he had no recollection of the person in the photo; inside he was startled at what he saw. The black and white photo was an image of Aria. The focus of the image was from a high angle, more than likely the photo came from a security camera. It showed her in the thin clothes he’d found her in, crouching next to a body. The look in her eyes haunted him. They were filled with so much fear, as though she were longing for someone to help her even though deep down that she was on her own.
Masking his astonishment, Doyle frowned while shaking his head in denial. “No. Should I?” He inquired, handing the photo back to the calculating character before him.
Tucking the photo back, the man glared back at Doyle. “She escaped from a high level containment facility a few days ago. And despite how she may seem she is very dangerous. She is a murder whom is very crafty when it comes to spinning tales to good Samaritans.”
He shook his head in mock sympathy. “I can't help you,”
Just as Doyle was stepping back to close the door the suspicious man thrust his hand in the doorway, preventing him from closing the door. His movement caused his coat to part revealing a holstered handgun strapped against the left side of his ribs.
“I understand what you think you’re doing is noble, Mr. Mackenzie. But understand this; this woman is the furthest thing from a damsel in distress. This is a dangerous predator that has killed many times and will continue to kill until she is stopped. Now you can help me or I can make your life very difficult. But I will not tolerate anyone standing in my way.”
A dark growl rumbled through his chest at this man’s audacity. Forget about how he’d threatened him, but how dare he threaten his mate. Doyle may not know everything about Aria’s past; in fact she was adamant about not talking about it. However; he did know one thing and that was that his mate was no killer. Was she being framed for a crime she didn't commit? That would explain her constant instinct to run. But it didn't explain her injuries and the metal cuffs on her wrists. Things just were not adding up here.
Rage and an overpowering urge to protect his mate exploded from him like gas to a flame. Shoving forward, he closed the door behind him as he gripped the unnamed man by his pasty white shirt. Lifting the thin man off his feet, Doyle shoved him against the wooden banister of his porch. Even with how Doyle held him, the man seemed unafraid. Which only served to piss Doyle off all the more.
Jerking the marshal close to his face, Doyle glared straight at him. “Threatening me will only get you six feet under the ground. I don’t care about what you believe but if you ever come back here again, I will show you what a real dangerous predator looks like.” Shoving the scum of a man away, he felt satisfaction as he stumbled against the icy patch on the end of the porch. Straightening his jacket, the man shoved his shoulders back in aggression, his scowl on his face told Doyle that this man wouldn’t be easy to get rid of.
“Think carefully about what you are doing. You’re on a slippery slope right now, it would be in your best interest to help me or I may just let you fall on your face.”
“Get. Off. My. Land. Now.” He gritted out between his clenched teeth as he felt his clenching fingers grow deadly claws. Nodding his head in compliance, but still glaring daggers at Doyle; the man stepped off the porch. He kept walking until he disappeared into the trees.
Doyle’s land was in no way easy to get to by walking. And he seriously doubted this man simply walked through the snow in a suit to ask him some questions. He had no doubts that he and Aria were being watched. His bear growled and snarled at the idea of Aria in danger. He had to bring the issue before not only his family, but the council as well. His pack could protect her, while he focused on ridding these pursuers off their backs.
Walking back into the cabin he shut the door quietly behind him. looking at the closed door to his bedroom, every instinct in his entire being yelled at him to take her away, someplace that he could defend better and annihilate any threat to his mate. Shaking his head at the idea, he grimaced. Aria would never agree to it, that much he knew about her. Though she had tried to hide it, she was concerned about bringing trouble to him or anyone. She would run if she felt they were closer to her than she realized.
Every muscle in his body tightened as he silently vowed that he wouldn’t allow her to run from him a second time. Striding to the bedroom a plan formed in his mind as he entered the quiet room. He made no effort to conceal the sounds of his presence. Walking to the bed, smiling down at her with dishonorable intentions, he gripped the bottom of the quilt at the end of the bed and threw it behind him. Effectively ripping away her only warmth, Aria startled awake as she jerked into a sitting position.
With wide eyes filled the remaining drowsiness, she gasped at him. “What are you doing?”
Smiling down at her, his eyes slid down her body as he took in her unique choice of nightwear. She wore one of his long sleeve t-shirts, the bottom of the shirt barely fell over her mouthwatering buttocks. Her legs tucked under her causing the red color of the shirt to glow against her pale skin. Shoving her hair behind her dainty ears, she glared at him as he continued to stare at her.
“If you woke me up to stare at me, you can do so while I go back to sleep.” She grumbled. Making sure the shirt covered her shapely rump she curled up in a ball facing away from him.
Walking to the dresser he selected a few items of clothes for her before then selecting them for himself. Just needing a shirt along with his jeans that he was already wearing, he pulled a sweater over his head with quick jerking movements. Advancing toward the bed, he tossed a turtle neck shirt and a pair of draw-string pants on top of Aria.
“Rise and shine, my kitten. Get dressed. We have a lot to do this morning; we’ll grab brunch in town.”
Grabbing the clothes he’d tossed over her, Aria threw them in the floor before snuggling back into her deliciously warm pillow. It was too early to be this cheerful. If he expected her to be reasonable he could come back at a more reasonable time, such as noon. Praying he had forgotten about her, Aria allowed her body to relax into the mattress.
The feel of a warm hand sliding up the outside of her thigh and toward her hip had her jerking in surprise. Twisting onto her back in response she found herself looking up at Doyle as he moved over her. Bracing his hands on either side of her shoulders, he settled his clothed hips down onto her scarcely covered ones.
“If you require assistance getting out of this shirt, I am willing to help you.” His deep voice purred.
The feel of his hard body pressing into hers sent waves of heated awareness through her loins. Her womanhood tightened with searing desire at the feel of his rigid length concealed by just the fabric of his jeans. Biting her lip, she found herself unsure of what she was supposed to do. She never remembered wanting someone like this before. This sudden hunger confused her as she suddenly had the urge to wrap around him like a snake and rub against his powerful frame.
“You didn't answer me.” His voice broke through like a bucket of ice water to her lust clouded brain.
The feel of his warm skin against her was confusing her and robbing her of the ability of speech. Pushing at his hard chest, she forced space between them as she shoved him off her. Sitting up, she watched as he climbed off the bed. His eyes never leaving hers as a heated wave of blush stole up her neck and into her face.
“I’m giving you two minutes to get dressed and be out of this room.” He threw over his shoulder as he headed towards the door.
Climbing off the bed as well, she walked around to the door. Crossing her arms over her chest she found herself unable to fight against rebelling just a little bit. “And if I don’t?” she retorted at his back.
Stopping just outside the door, Doyle rested his hands on the door frame as he leaned into the room. A challenging brow rose as his lips smirked with anticipation. “Then there will no need for you to wear any clothes because I will…”
Not waiting t
o hear the rest of what he was planning on saying, she slammed the door in his face, effectively cutting off his words. Her hands reached up to cover her burning face as her back leaned against the door. That man was deadly and like a moth to a flame she was tempted to risk the burn.
* ~ * ~ *
No matter how much she’d argued once she had emerged out of the bedroom, Doyle had all but thrown her into his bright red pickup truck without a second thought. With a glum expression, she pressed her face against the cool glass of her window. Truck bounced and shook as they drove down the narrow unpaved road that led down Doyle’s mountain.
The memory of last night slowly filtered into her mind as a soft smile curved along her lips. The rest of the night went on without any more heavy pressure playing havoc on her vulnerable brain, much to her relief. After eating another excessively portioned meal with Doyle, they’d sat together on the couch.
As the night grew later, Doyle had built a fire, casting the room in a warm glow. He filled the awkward void by regaling her with tales of his rebellious childhood. He told her about the time he’d convinced Robert that he couldn’t get poison ivy if he was in his bear form. According to Doyle, to this day Robert still was squeamish about treading through the woods in his bear form. He told her of his job as Alpha of not only his pack but over all of the shifters in Darkwood Springs. She discovered; much to her surprise that Doyle and his brother worked as game wardens when not consumed with pack affairs.
She couldn’t remember laughing so hard in her life. It had felt so good to laugh for once. She felt completely carefree, with no thoughts of apprehension leading straight to Malca. At the end of the evening she’d felt too worn out to even wait up for supper. She’d half expected to fight Doyle for the claim on the bed. However she hadn’t seen him again until he barged in at the crack of dawn throwing clothes at her with a happy disposition, declaring that she should get ready to go to town or else. That or else option had nearly tempted her to see how far he was willing to take his threat. The thought made her whole body shiver with wanting. Suddenly the confines of the truck felt too hot for her to withstand.
Bearing It All (Grizzly Affairs Book 1) Page 8