The Protectors Series Bundle (A superhero romance anthology)

by Nana Malone

“Then why did two of my ducklings leave the nest.”

  “That has nothing to do with you.”

  “I wish I could believe that.”

  “Baby, I have total faith in you even when you don’t have faith in yourself. Soldier, mother, wife, you can do anything. And I am always by your side.”

  “Then do your wife a favor, make love to her and make her forget she has a homicidal brother for an hour.”

  “Only an hour? I can do better than that.” He glanced at her belly. “But you don’t think the little guy can hear us do you?”

  Cassie barked out a laugh. “Let’s not get over ambitious here. And besides, Lisa says the little guy or gal is about the size of a blueberry right now. He or she doesn’t even have ears yet.”

  “Good point. Then let me detain you for a couple of hours then.” Seth returned to his previous position and kissed his way up her belly, lingering at each rib and tracing them with his lips. Cassie whispered his name as he hovered over her breasts. Gently, he blew on one of her nipples, and she shivered as she wove her hands into his hair.

  She pulled him down to her, but he resisted.

  “Pushy, pushy. I’ll get to them.”

  As his breath tickled her nipples, her hips rose to meet his—meeting his hard flesh with her moist core, already ready for him.

  On every lift of her hips, he set his jaw. Without speaking, she probed his mind, gently pushing the thought. Don’t hold back from me. Give me everything.

  On a growl, he positioned his cock at her entrance and slid home in one stroke. Tingling bliss erupted over each of her nerve endings like they were being stroked from inside.

  “Seth,” she whispered on a moan.

  Their movements were frenzied and quick as he slid into her and retreated. Each time on the outstroke, the tip of his cock stroked her g-spot, and her whole body shivered. Ducking his head, he suckled her breast and whispered homage to her beauty.

  She dug her nails into his back as he rode her, and she met each of his thrusts with fierce passion. She felt the tingling at the base of her spine, and she tugged on his hair. “Baby.”

  She could feel his smile against her neck and knew what was coming. He flipped them over and shifted their position so she straddled him. “Ride me home, sweetheart.”

  Cassie knew he preferred to watch her. And especially now, he was so paranoid about being too heavy for her. Seth gripped her hips on each powerful stroke, and Cassie rode him planting her hands on his ripped stomach for support. His fingers dug into her hips, and she moaned, throwing her head back.

  He slid a hand to where their bodies met and stroked his thumb over her clit. The teasing sensation on the bundle of nerves sent her crashing over the edge. The moment her pussy walls started to convulse around his stiff cock, his fingers dug into her flesh, and he cursed, his whole body quaking as he came.

  Cassie collapsed on top of him, panting and whispered against his chest. “I love you. You know that?”

  “I love to please a la—”

  His voice cut off, and Cassie popped her head up to study him. “Seth, what’s wrong? Is it Peter?”

  His voice was distant as if he were speaking through a tunnel. “No. We’re getting company.”

  Chapter Seven

  “We’ve got a problem. And by we, I mean I.” Symone paced up and down her darkened hallway. She knew she had to call in the attack by the warehouses. But it pained her. She didn’t need everyone on the compound worrying about her, or worse, insisting she come back. They all knew she couldn’t.

  “Define problem.” Jansen’s voice was droll, but concern braided its way through. He was still pissed she’d hung up on him yesterday.

  “I was jumped by a Tracker.”

  “What the fuck?” Jansen’s bellow had her holding her phone away from here ear.

  “About an hour ago. He snatched me behind a dumpster by the Milk Street strip mall. Said he was taking me back to Peter. Except he called him Reaper.”

  A string of inventive curses filled the airwaves. “Shit, I’ll come get you. Did you handle it?”

  “Yeah, he went down like a sack of potatoes. But—”

  “Now isn’t the time to mince words, kid. Spit it out.”

  Symone ground her teeth. She hated it when he called her kid. He still saw her as the scrawny nineteen-year-old that he’d pulled out of that building in Riddenwell. And he treated her like it too. “He didn’t respond like he should have.”

  “I thought you said he went down.”

  She hesitated, unsure how to explain. “When I grabbed him, I could feel some of what he was feeling, and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. At first he felt more shock than agony. And it took longer than usual to send him down. I know he’s been enhanced, but even if I accidentally touch Seth, it’s like he’s been hit with a Taser. This guy was different.”

  “Wait, back up. What the fuck do you mean enhanced?”

  “I smelled the compound on him. And he was quick. Practically snatched me out of thin air. There’s no way he should have been able to do that. And when we fought…” She sighed. “I dunno. I can’t pinpoint it, but the guy could fight. Like he could anticipate my every move.”

  Jansen was silent for several beats. “How are you feeling? What did you get from him?”

  Symone didn’t like the round of questioning—as if she’d need to be fitted for the latest in straight jacket chic any moment. Yeah, she sometimes picked up personality traits and thoughts from people when she touched them, but it wasn’t like they possessed her. “That’s the other thing. I only got memories from the last day or so. They’re mostly of some guy named Rex and me.” She left out the part about the rush of heat in her body every time she accessed the guy’s memories of her. Jansen didn’t need to know all that.

  “That’s bad news. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

  Her breath caught. He might be a certified killing machine—he’d already proved more than once he could hold his own against Trackers—but Jansen wasn’t like the rest of them. He didn’t have powers. All she’d been told about him when she first met him was that he was a former special ops Marine. Real bad ass kind of shit. But he never talked about his past. If he was coming, that meant he would bring heavy artillery. But he’d be risking his neck for her—again. And she didn’t want that.

  “Jansen, thanks. But I’m faster on my own. I’m going to throw my shit in a bag and head for the Lair.” She knew he was going to argue, so she followed immediately with, “Look, I know you’ll come guns blazing, but honestly it’s quicker if I come on my own. If he’s looking for me, he probably has reinforcements. I don’t want to be a sitting duck while I wait for you. Unless Alex is available to teleport me back home.” She left out the part about it being safer for Jansen if he stayed at the Lair. She prayed the safety angle would work, because she didn’t want to have to point out to him that a suped-up Tracker could kill him.

  “Negative. Alex is getting a little R&R with his family.”

  Symone could tell he didn’t like it, but there was nothing he could say. Without the ability to teleport, it was more dangerous to wait for him than to head home on her own. “That settles it. On my way in an hour. I’ll see you before dawn.”

  Another string of curses filled the airwaves. But she knew she’d at least won the battle.

  “Get your ass in gear. You’re not here by morning, and I’m coming after you.”

  “Roger that,” she mumbled before disconnecting the line. She’d have to hurry and pack light. There would be no coming back here. This location was burned.

  No sooner had she hung up with Jansen, than her light flickered. A grip of fear welded her to the hardwood in her darkened hallway. Someone had breached her security perimeter. She smelled leather in the air.

  ***

  Garrett didn’t bother with the fire escape or the front door. He didn’t want to get picked up by the cameras. And he figured Symone had the place booby trapped to the hilt. She seeme
d like the resourceful type. Considering it had taken two hours to find her, she was careful about where she lived. He’d been wrong about her being careless with her life. Any time he’d been able to follow her was because she’d allowed it. When she wanted to be hidden, finding her had been a challenge he didn’t want to repeat.

  Just because he’d been able to follow her from where she volunteered, didn’t mean squat. Her unique scent of cinnamon and saffron led him on a merry chase round half the town. She’d doubled back more than once. Eventually he’d given up and followed the other scent mingled with hers. The Bubble gum one. That one hadn’t moved around as much.

  By now the other Trackers must have realized he wasn’t going to show. He prayed that the same cloaking that masked Symone would keep them at bay for a little longer while he tried to get her out.

  If he came through the front door, he’d only get more of the “Hi, how are ya?” electrocution she gave him by that dumpster, and he needed to be conscious if they were going to have a conversation.

  He rubbed his hand where she’d grabbed him. It still tingled from her residual touch. The sensation was dangerously close to arousal. Not a complication he needed right now.

  Tying his climbing rope around the base of the antenna on the roof, he strode to the edge and peered down. Five stories. The scent was strongest from the north side corner unit on the fourth floor. Lucky that unit had a fire escape, but the damn thing was locked up tight. The window facing the west side, however, was open. Garrett smirked. There was always more than one way in.

  Wrapping the rope around his waist, then his elbow and shoulder for bracing, he eased himself over the edge face-first and rappelled step-by-step down the side of the building. He took his time. Rushing would only get him a date with the pavement below.

  Sweat popped on his brow as he passed the fifth floor. He paused when he was level with her neighbor’s window. Taking a deep breath, he mumbled, “Letting go is always the hardest part.” Saying a prayer to a god he wasn’t sure he believed in, he gripped the rope with both hands and let his feet fall from the wall surface. He cursed as he dangled, his biceps screaming in agony as they fought to hold up his weight. Kicking his feet, he swung gently from side to side until he had enough momentum to swing to her window.

  On his final pass past the neighbor’s window, a frightened cat screeched and scurried back inside. With a quick inhalation of breath, his body swung to Symone’s window, and he dove in feet first, letting the rope slide out of his fingers as he landed.

  She was waiting for him—baseball bat at the ready.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” She swung at his crouched form.

  Garrett barely managed to roll out of the way before the bat made contact with his head. Instead, the back of his skull got cozy with one of the dining room table legs. He sprung up to his feet into an automatic defensive stance with his hands up to guard his face and head

  “Is that any way to treat a guest?” Keeping his center of gravity low, he lunged after her.

  She deftly spun away, swinging her Louisville Slugger. This time, making contact with his arm. He grimaced as the pain radiated to his shoulder. Ever the trained soldier though, he kept his mind focused enough to sidestep her follow up swing.

  “I’m not here to hurt you. I was serious. I only want to talk.”

  She sneered. “Said the wolf to Red Riding Hood.”

  He could almost smile past the pain roaring up his arm. “We don’t have much time, Symone. Reaper’s already sent others. By now, they know I’m not at the rendezvous point. We need to go before they track you here.”

  Her dark eyes leveled him with a steely glare. “How did you find me?”

  “The more I followed your scent, the more I got confused. So I followed the other scent with you. The bubble gum one.”

  Her eyes widened and darted to a discarded hoody on the coffee table. “So I’m just supposed to trust you and go with you?”

  He shrugged and grinned. “Yeah, it would save me from knocking you out.”

  She gave him a broad grin, and for a moment he was struck dumb by her stunning smile.

  “I think you’ve already forgotten how our last encounter ended. Maybe I should give you a refresher.”

  ***

  Symone glared at her intruder as her hands clenched and unclenched around the base of her baseball bat. She desperately wished she had powers she could wield without actually having to touch him.

  But wishes were useless to her now; she had to deal with him. Just like always, no one would be running to her rescue. Good thing she knew how to take care of herself.

  She and Garrett circled each other. His movements were as fluid and controlled as a jungle cat’s. His eyes scanned her body as if looking for a vulnerable angle. Good luck to him. The moment he put his hands on her, he’d be lights out. But she didn’t want him getting close enough to touch. The reverb she got the last time was enough to rattle her teeth and make her unsteady on her feet.

  Her fingers flexed around the bat. “I’d like to know who’s brains I’m about to bash in.”

  He smirked. “Confident aren’t you? My name’s Garrett Hunter and I’m not here to hurt you.”

  She ignored his attempt to placate her. “You know, when you enter someone’s house uninvited, someone’s likely to shoot you.” She smirked. “And you’re so rude—you didn’t even bring a gift. Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to go to someone’s house empty handed?”

  His full lips tipped up at the corners. “I’m a little surprised you opted for a bat. You clearly knew I was coming. Why not a gun? Shoot, why bother with the external weapons?”

  His smile gave her butterflies. Everything about him gave her butterflies. The way he moved, all sinew and grace and lethal quickness. Thick, dark lashes framed his deep-set, navy eyes. His strong jaw tipped as he cocked his head. Under the dim light of her living room, she couldn’t tell what color his hair was. He sported a close buzz cut, but judging from his dark brows, he wasn’t blond.

  “Lucky for you I don’t like guns.” She wiggled her fingers. “I don’t usually need them either. Why don’t you take your beefy ass out of here, and I’ll let you live. Unless you really would like more of what I gave you earlier. I’m more than happy to oblige.”

  He straightened, but she didn’t relax her stance. She kept her knees soft, her weight on the balls of her feet and her bat angled like she was a starting hitter for the Yankees. He smiled again, and her insides went molten hot. Of course the one man to make her lament her inability to touch anyone would have to be a Tracker. Yet another cruel joke of her life.

  He put his hands up as if showing her he had no ulterior motives, but he kept his weight forward on the balls of his feet. “Now while that sounds like fun—and I gotta tell you it was a thrill— I think I’ll pass. I’m here to talk. But I will say the residuals were like the best sex I’ve ever had.”

  “You have a funny way of showing you’re here to talk. Most people who want to talk to me ring my doorbell. And you’re far worse than any door-to-door salesman I’ve ever seen.”

  He shifted his weight, and Symone didn’t wait for a response. She went in swinging, bat held high. His reflexes were outstanding. He dodged her wild swing and tucked in around her waist. He held her with her back against him, squeezing her so hard she couldn’t breathe. She struggled in his grasp. Dropping the bat, she desperately fought to get her hands on a patch of skin, but his jacket covered his arms. She tried to drop her weight and shove her hips back hard, but all that did was bring her into closer proximity to his hips. No matter what she tried, he didn’t let go. As her head began to swim, her mind frantically searched for a way out. Wiggling her arms around, she bent them behind her back. Reaching for his belt, she forced his T-shirt up and placed her fingertips on rock hard abs.

  He jerked upright, abruptly letting her go. She spun on her heel to face him. She was tall, but even on tip toes, her 5’9” frame didn’t meet him
eye to eye. Symone went for the kill while he stood there temporarily stunned, and clamped her hands on either side of his face, waiting for him to drop. Jansen could arrange cleanup for the body later.

  But he didn’t go down.

  Teeth set, he grimaced. His eyes squeezed shut, but after ten full seconds, his features relaxed, and his whole body shivered. That was when she scented his arousal in the air. Like leather and smoke, it wove around her, threatening to overwhelm her. She could also feel it from him. As if she were the one experiencing the orgasmic bliss floating through his body. He wanted her.

  Unsure of what was wrong with her powers, she channeled more energy through her hands, willing him to fall. He finally let out a groan and wobbled, but the look on his face—parted lips and eyes ablaze with lust—looked like he was mid-orgasm.

  His body finally gave up and fell against her, toppling them both to the couch. All it took was the breath of a moment to break her concentration, and he turned the tables, somehow taking control of her power. One arm wrapped around her and cupped her ass while the other planted beside her head and braced him above her body.

  She didn’t let go of his face, but she could feel the struggle between them as she tried to suck out his life force. Sweat popped on her brow, and her body shook with the effort. Or maybe it was the way his hand lifted her ass to fit her hips more snugly against the rigid length of him. Or maybe it was the way her body melted and molded to his lean hard body. Every muscle, every organ—she could feel all of him pressing into her.

  Through clenched teeth, he grunted, “What are you doing to me?”

  She blinked up at him, fighting the onslaught of emotion running through her. Lust, fear, and relief braided through her more rational emotions. “Why are you still alive?”

  He shuddered on top of her, rolled his hips into hers, and she felt the length of his cock push insistently at her inner thigh. Her traitorous body met his roll with one of her own.

  “If it feels this good to die, I’d die a million times over.” He groaned, and his hips bucked.