Guardian’s Bond Page 7

  Alive.

  Unlike her parents.

  The unwelcome reminder pierced through her. No matter how many times the rational part of herself fought back with arguments of due process and justice, the guilt and shame that came with doing nothing always seemed to find a way back through. A mental ninja that always knew just when to strike.

  In the gorge below, something moved.

  Katy froze with her coffee halfway to her lips and tried to make out the shape against the morning shadows. Whatever it was was huge. Stealthy and quiet.

  A panther.

  The same one that had pinned her brother to the gorge’s floor the day before.

  It prowled closer, every step weighted with intention and its gray eyes focused solely on her. If the darkest night had a form and movement to it, the beast below would be it. Beautiful. Sensual. Deadly.

  Leaping with a strength that made her gasp, it landed on a low tree branch and deftly navigated up and across other branches until it slowed on one parallel to her on the high porch. It stretched its mighty length out and settled the same as a cat in a window sill, waiting, its tail swishing in what she sensed was irritation.

  “Guess that means sneaking past the couch was a wasted effort,” she murmured into the quiet. Feeling ten kinds of stupid for having spoken aloud and gawking, she added a little more volume. “Can you understand me when you’re like that?”

  The swishing tail stopped, and she’d swear the insects singing their last song for the night went silent along with it.

  The beast stared at her, motionless. Only after many seconds, did it lift its chin and let out a soft chuff.

  She trembled in response, the very palpable memory of how that sound had rumbled against her when they first met blasting white-hot in a second. “I take it you were the one following me on my run?”

  Rather than give a verbal response, the cat settled into its pose a little deeper, one huge paw dangling off the branch in a negligent way that said, “Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it?”

  Maybe that’s what prodded her to nudge him a little more. Either that or she had a death wish. “Are you staying where you are because it’s not safe to come closer, or because you think you’ll scare me away?”

  For the longest time, he just stared at her, his heavy-lidded gaze not offering the slightest hint as to his thoughts.

  Or did he have thoughts in his cat’s form? Maybe she’d misinterpreted his chuff as a valid response and he didn’t know come here from sic ’em.

  She sidled toward a lone Adirondack chair positioned just beside the platform’s high rail with a bird’s-eye view of the gorge. Just as she was about to sit, the cat rose lazily.

  Katy froze, her lungs barely doing their job as he silently stalked forward. Every step was cautious. Careful and calculated. And in that second, she wasn’t sure if the smarter move was to run like hell, or throw caution to the wind and enjoy the show.

  Surprisingly, she opted for the latter. Which just proved how off her game she was. Logic was always placed above passion. Reason above instinct. That was the smart play her father had always taught her.

  But logic didn’t seem to have much place with Priest. Or with any Volán, for that matter.

  Priest paused on the branch directly overhead. Waiting.

  For what? Permission? Some sign of fear? For all she knew, he was gauging which part of her to eat for breakfast first.

  Well, to heck with that. She’d had enough earth-shattering revelations to prove her mettle the last few weeks. She’d be damned if she let him undermine her confidence this far into Mad Hatterville. She slid into the chair and forced her shoulders to relax.

  One exhale was as far as she got.

  The next thing she knew, he leapt down to the balcony’s protective handrail and paced in front of her.

  Amazing.

  Where he’d been impressive at a distance, up close, his panther was a wonder. Especially with the way he’d handled the acrobatic feat, the same nimble grace and poise she’d have expected from a much smaller feline. Definitely not from a cat that would easily reach her hip when standing. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

  You couldn’t call the sound that eked from his slightly parted mouth a growl. More like a grumble paired with a depth that made the wood platform beneath her feet vibrate. As if to prove her point, he lightly jumped from the rail and landed at her feet.

  Logic screamed for her to get up and add distance between them.

  Again, she ignored it, sheer fascination overriding every other command and drawing her to the edge of her seat. Unlike the green eyes she’d expect with such an animal, this one’s matched Priest’s exactly. A mystic gray that seemed to swirl and shift like soft morning fog. She lifted her hand, but hesitated just inches from the top of the cat’s head. “Can I touch you?”

  Tame as a house cat, the panther dipped its massive head and nudged her palm, guiding it down the back of its neck.

  Holy cow, he was soft. A swath of glossy black silk. And he was hot. Not warm like a man when cuddling on a cold winter night, but no-heater-needed hot.

  A purr started slow and easy, then grew with each stroke of her hand. His warm breath huffed against her forearm and knees, the open appreciation of each touch echoed in the languid way he lifted and rotated his head.

  “You like that?”

  Another chuff, only this one had attitude. A very you have no idea feel to it that sent a shiver sliding through her.

  He shifted closer, his wide chest pushing between her slightly parted knees until he rubbed his temple against hers.

  “Oh!” Startled, she started to pull away, but he quickly adjusted, backing off just enough to let her relax before he repeated the gesture on the other side.

  Marking you.

  Where the thought came from, she had no clue. A stupid idea, really, but one that fired an achy need in her belly. She palmed the space just behind his ears with both hands, softly running the pads of her fingers through his short, thick fur as she whispered, “You’re beautiful.”

  One second she was staring into the cat’s beautiful eyes and the next Priest crouched in front of her, only a brilliant silver flash separating the two visions. Unlike yesterday, now he wore only loose gray track pants, his feet and torso bare.

  And Lord, what a sight he was.

  Like Tate, tattoos marked his collarbone and shoulders, but Priest’s were different. Significantly more of them for starters, but more functional in their design. As if the person who’d done them had been focused only on the magic rather than the art. And his muscles...if given the chance and enough daring, she’d spend considerable time giving tactile appreciation for each dip and groove that defined his shoulders and chest.

  It wasn’t until she flexed and released her fingers that she realized her hands were still cupped around the back of his head. She dropped them to her lap, ruing the lost heat and the slick thickness of his long hair against her knuckles, but thankful the sun peeking from the horizon couldn’t spotlight the burning heat in her cheeks. “Sorry.”

  His voice was dark as midnight. Rough as gravel and yet soothing. “Your touch is nothing to apologize for.”

  One heartbeat. Then another. His eyes not leaving hers for even a blink.

  She broke the stare out of sheer necessity. As hard as her heart was pounding it was either look away, or suffer cardiac arrest. Though, if a woman had to go, being stared down by a nearly naked, insanely alpha male wasn’t a bad way to do it.

  He splayed one hand atop her thigh, the running shorts she’d picked for her pre-dawn escape leaving her open for skin-to-skin contact. “You weren’t afraid of my cat.”

  Um, yeah, she had been. And still was. It just seemed self-preservation didn’t factor where he was concerned. Not that she was going to clue him in on either count. “He’s pretty.”


  His lips quirked, but stopped just shy of a smile. “Pretty.” Not a question. Just that universal deadpan quip reserved for men stymied by women everywhere. His gaze slid to the coffee she’d abandoned on the small side table beside her chair, and he stood, snagging the half-empty mug as he straightened to his impressive height. “Come inside. Your skin’s chilled and your coffee’s colder.”

  Maybe on the outside her skin was cold. From the inside out she was roasty-toasty. Still, a little distance seemed like a smart idea, even if it did mean giving up the rest of her sunrise.

  Letting him pull her to her feet, she followed him inside. And oh, what a prime opportunity that presented. She’d never really considered herself the type to ogle men, but with Priest it was hard not to. His long black hair hung loose to his shoulder blades covering most of the tattoos that spanned his back, but there were obviously twice what Jade and Tate had. Rougher. Edgier. But what really got her tongue-tied was his ass and the way the soft fabric of his track pants draped over the rounded muscle, practically daring her to touch.

  She cleared her throat like that might somehow dislodge the temptation. “Do you drink coffee?”

  Rounding into the kitchen, he swirled her mug, studied the contents, then lifted it for a considering sniff. “Live on the stuff.”

  Interesting. Somehow, she’d expected him to be an herbal tea and organic food type. She slid onto a barstool behind the breakfast counter. “So, was it you?”

  “Was what me?”

  “Following me. Outside on my run.”

  Done with pouring her a fresh cup, he scooped out a surprisingly accurate amount of sugar then followed it up with a splash of half-and-half. Only when he’d foraged a spoon from a drawer and started stirring did he turn and answer. “It’s not safe for you outside my wards. I heard you leave, so yes. I followed you.” He handed over the mug, holding it in such a way the handle was free for her to grab onto, but had to be scalding the heck out of his fingers.

  She took it, blew for a second over the top and took a careful sip.

  Perfect.

  No different than if she’d made it herself. “You’re very observant.”

  “Where you’re concerned, absolutely.” He pulled out the barstool beside her and positioned it so when he sat his knees bracketed hers. At least four or five other charms rested between his pecs, each on its own black leather cord. Paired with the long hair, tattoos and dark skin, he looked more like a rock star than a magical clan’s high priest.

  Careful, as though he were afraid to spook her, he traced the space directly beneath one eye. “You didn’t sleep.”

  Oh, yes. Very observant. Unnervingly so. “I have a lot on my mind.”

  “Tell me.” They were blunt words. Clearly a command, but somehow they were comforting. An encouragement to surrender the weight she’d hefted for too long.

  “My parents. A heritage I didn’t know existed. A race that includes magic and shapeshifting. Kind of messes with a person’s subconscious and doesn’t play nice at dream time.”

  “You don’t believe in the magic.”

  She hadn’t. Not at first. But it was hard to keep ignoring it after slamming into it like a pinball stuck between two electronic bumpers. “I believe it, I just...” She sipped her coffee then cradled the thick mug between her palms, searching and failing for the right explanation. “I don’t know how to process it. I see it. I accept it.”

  “But you’re afraid of it.”

  Bingo.

  The truth rattled her as sure as Priest had grabbed hold of both shoulders and given her a serious rag doll shake. Fear wasn’t an attribute she appreciated in anyone. Denial was even worse. Apparently, she was guilty of both. “I don’t understand it.”

  “That’s the thing about magic. It’s not meant to be understood. It’s meant to be accepted. You appreciate and own it. It’s about heart, not logic.”

  “I like logic. I like it when two plus two equals four. Not a butterfly or a pretty bird.”

  “Hmm.” He leaned one elbow on the counter and studied her. “The scientist in you. But nature doesn’t always play by the rules either. Surely, you’ve figured that out with your major.”

  She fidgeted on her stool, a weird mix of curiosity and self-defense making her squirm under his assessing gaze. “How do you know what I’m studying?”

  He grinned. “Because your grandmother is a font of information where you’re concerned and I took full advantage.”

  Figured. While Nanna loved nature as much as Katy did, she never missed an opportunity to point out that Katy’s life was far too structured. Too lacking in spontaneity. She took another drink of her coffee and realized he hadn’t poured any for himself. She set her mug aside and slid off the barstool. Turnabout was only fitting. Especially if it had been her inability to sleep that had pulled him from his sleep to guard her.

  He kept his silence until she slid the carafe back on the burner. “What else kept you up last night?”

  Goose bumps lifted up and down her arms and the muscles in her belly tightened. “Dead parents and magic isn’t enough?”

  “It’s enough, but it isn’t all, is it?”

  No. Not even close. True the nightmares had invaded what little sleep she’d managed, but it was the vivid dreams that had come later that had left her hot, needy and unable to go back to sleep. She pulled the sugar dispenser closer. “Cream or sugar?”

  “Neither.”

  Bummer. No extras meant she’d have to face him sooner.

  “Tell me, Kateri. What kept you awake?”

  “Only Nanna calls me Kateri. Everyone else calls me Katy.”

  “Kateri tastes better on my tongue.”

  Whoa boy.

  Her stomach pitched and swirled at just the idea of anything to do with his tongue and, considering how hard her legs were shaking, the do-or-die sprint she’d finished up her run with had been a serious tactical error. She gripped the countertop ledge with both hands.

  His voice registered behind her a second before his hands framed hers on the countertop, caging her in. “I’ll tell you what kept me awake.” His heat coiled around her and mingled with his manly scent. He inhaled deep beside one ear, the subtle yet sensual sound making her feel as though the beast was right there with him. “I remembered your scent. How soft you felt against me.”

  She’d thought about that, too. Added onto the memory actually, throwing in a few bonus scenes that involved zero spectators and a lot less clothes.

  He nuzzled the back of her neck, his voice a velvet rumble that caressed every nerve ending. “I imagined you touching me the way you petted my cat this morning. Exploring me. Fearless.” His lips whispered against the skin at her nape, there and gone like a ghost. “What kept you awake, Kateri?”

  “You.” How she actually managed to verbalize the admission, she wasn’t quite clear on, but the second it slipped past her lips, something in her shifted. A crack slowly edging through the thick ice of her emotions.

  He must have sensed the change, because he stilled behind her, keeping her caged, yet not pushing her further. “And that frightens you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because things are different around you. I’ve never felt anything like it. It’s irrational. Not normal.”

  “Ah, but you’re not normal. You’re Volán. A sensual creature born with the promise of magic.” He paused and pressed as close as he could without making full contact. “Do you want my touch?”

  A shiver wiggled through her, ripping yet another unexpected confession past her lips. “Yes.” As soon as she said it, she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “No. I mean...” She huffed out an irritated breath and hung her head. “I don’t know what I want. I can’t trust anything anymore.”

  “There is one thing you can trust.” Before she
could open her mouth to ask what he meant, he slid his hands around her waist and pulled her against him, one palm sliding up to rest above her heart and the other splayed low on her abdomen.

  And it felt fantastic.

  A possessive grasp that urged everything inside her to release the fragile hold she’d fought so hard to maintain and simply surrender. A soft and pleasant vibration radiated against her back, a more subtle version of the purr his cat had offered as she’d stroked its fur.

  “Close your eyes, kitten. Breathe and forget everything except what you feel right now.”

  So tempting. So very tempting. “I’m not a kitten.”

  “Yes, you are.” Spoken right beside her ear, low and daring her to argue otherwise. “Fearless and so ready to grow into your claws you can’t hardly stand it, but curious enough to get into trouble.”

  Okay, the curious part she’d give him. Actually, she’d give him just about anything right now, the heat and energy coming off him as he pulled her deeper and deeper into whatever spell he wove clouding what was left of her judgment. Never in her life had she felt this safe. This anchored and at home in her emotions.

  “Are you afraid now?” No superiority. No command. Just a simple question rooted in genuine concern.

  “No.” Insane or not, there was something about this man her instincts and body trusted. Completely. Which only made her mind want to rebel twice as hard.

  Drawing in a slow, deep breath, he slowly rubbed his temple against hers, the action unsurprisingly similar to how his cat had marked her outside. “You’ll never be safer than when you’re with me, mihara. What you feel right now will never fail between us. Will be there even when you’re infuriated with me. When you’re ready to accept it, I’ll give you everything you need.” His lips brushed her cheek for the barest second and he stepped away.

  The room’s chill closed in instantly, marking the loss of his warmth in an almost accusing slap. She turned and opened her mouth, only to realize she hadn’t decided if she wanted to demand he come back, or tell him good riddance.

  Apparently, she wasn’t getting much choice in the matter because he was almost out of the kitchen, his long feline strides taking him God only knew where. “Priest,” she said, still not knowing what she’d say if he stopped.