Bound Guardian Angel (20 page)

“I can multitask.” And so the game
continued.

“So can I, but my relationship to Bain is
none of your business.”

“So, you have a relationship with him,
huh?”

“It’s a figure of speech, Trace. You know
what a figure of speech is, right?”

“I’m familiar with the term, but since
you’re always so damn literal, I—”

“Jesus, you two,” Micah said. “Give it a
rest. You’re giving me a headache, for Chrissakes.”

The constant jabs had given Trace something
much better than a headache. His balls actually tingled. He might
even be able to get off just arguing with Cordray. How was that for
foreplay?

“Okay, so,” he said, meeting Cordray stride
for stride as she picked up the pace. “You’re going to do research,
Micah’s going to investigate security footage . . .
what am I going to do?”

Cordray shot him an amused glance as one
eyebrow whipped into a humored arch. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got a
whole list of things you’ll be doing. You won’t have time to think
about our friend Skeletor or what his intentions for your bufu
buddy are.”

“Bufu?”

“Butt fuck,” Micah said flatly. “Butt fuck
buddy.”

“If only she knew.” Trace smirked and met
Micah’s gaze out of the corner of his eye.

After last night’s scene, it was clear from
Micah’s limits he would never do that to Trace, nor would he allow
Trace to do it to him. Fine by him, especially if Micah continued
taking him on head trips like he had last night. But Cordray didn’t
need to know the truth. If she wanted to think he and Micah fucked
each other ten ways to Sunday, let her.

“I don’t want to know.” Cordray’s pace
picked up steam.

Trace and Micah laughed.

Once they made it back to where they’d
parked, Trace grabbed his duffel from the trunk of Micah’s Audi and
tossed it in the back of Cordray’s Range Rover.

“Tell Sam I’m looking forward to a bowl of
her famous chili,” Trace said, clasping hands with Micah in a
one-armed hug.

“Sure thing.” Micah released him. “And don’t
forget, Brak’s waiting to see you.”

Trace glanced toward Cordray, who hovered
near the driver’s side of the Rover, watching him. “Yeah, tell
him . . .” What? He had no idea what to say to Brak.
Hell, he wasn’t even sure seeing him was a good idea right now,
given how he’d melted down at Micah’s house. “Just tell him I’ll
see him as soon as Satan’s mistress gives me a reprieve from
purgatory.”

Cordray crossed her arms irritably and
huffed, but she kept whatever retort she wanted to sling at him to
herself.

That didn’t last long, though. Once he was
in the passenger seat and they were heading off to her lair, she
wasted no time starting in on him.

“You know, after how I kept my mouth shut
about what went through your mind when you blacked out or seized—or
whatever happened to you—the least you could do is show a little
gratitude.”

“I’m grateful.” He turned toward her. “But
that doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“You can say that again.” She cut the turn
at a stoplight short, and the rear tires jumped the curb.

Trace bounced and grabbed the oh-shit bar
above the door. “Where the fuck did you get your driver’s license?
A Cracker Jack box?”

She shot him an icy glare then frowned as
her gaze dropped to his mouth. “Why do you chew on those damn
matchsticks?” she snapped, ignoring his Cracker Jack jab as she
returned her gaze to the road.

He pulled the wooden stick from his mouth
and looked at it. Chewing on matchsticks had been a habit for so
long, he couldn’t remember when he’d started. But he definitely
remembered why. Matchsticks were a reminder of his past. For a long
time after his mother’s death, he hadn’t been able to start a fire.
He’d been too afraid. Even striking a match caused his heart rate
to hitch. So rather than light them, he chewed them to remind
himself of how dangerous fire could be. That it should never be
taken for granted, or bad things would happen.

He slipped the match back into his mouth.
“None of your business.”

“Well, keep your nasty habit away from my
kids.”

His head whipped toward her. “Your
kids?”

That’s when he noticed the car seat behind
her. He leaned around, looked behind him, and found another one.
Car seats. Two of them. As in, for toddlers.

Toddlers?

Cordray had kids?

When had that happened?

He leaned back in his seat and stared at her
profile. He’d never even considered Cordray could be mated. He
wasn’t sure how he felt about that possibility. Who could the
father be?

Maybe King Bain—

“Jesus Christ,” she said. “I’m not doing it
with Bain.” She shuddered as if she’d just taken a sip of
two-dollar wine. “Just the thought of that . . .
just . . .
ew
.”

He slammed his mental door on her, kicking
her out of his head. “Then whose kids are they?”

Her blue eyes darted toward him then back at
the road. “They’re mine, dumbass.”

“You’re . . .
you’ve . . .” He swallowed, not liking the ache
setting up shop inside his chest. “Who in their right mind would
fuck you?”

Honestly, the job of being her baby daddy
sounded more appealing than he wanted it to.

She briefly appeared wounded before
hardening her expression. “Considering you were just thinking the
king and I were making babies together, I’m not sure if you’re
insulting me or the king.”

“Just tell me who the father is.” For some
reason, this really bothered him.

“They’re not
biologically
mine,
idiot. They’re kids in my shelter. I take care of them. But for all
intents and purposes, they’re mine. I think of them as my own.”

Unexpected relief swept through him.

“You? A mother?” Who would have thought
Cordray had a single maternal bone in her body? Her entire sexy,
perfect, desirable body.

“Can you at least try to talk in complete
sentences?” she quipped, turning onto the ramp for the
interstate.

He bit back a grin. “Gee, I don’t know.
Could you at least try to talk to me like I have a brain?”

“Do you?”

And here came his tingling balls again.

“I can add two and two.”

“And get what? Ten?”

He almost chuckled. Almost.

“No, eight.”

He felt her look at him from across the
console. He met her gaze out of the corners of his eyes. The air
went deathly still.

Then Cordray laughed.

She actually laughed.

And the sound did something to the inside of
his chest. Something warm and wonderful. Light and airy. Something
that made him feel alive. More alive than he’d ever felt outside
the playroom. Alive enough that he couldn’t stop his own laughter
when it bubbled up inside his throat and made a break for
freedom.

This was the sound of tension breaking. Of
enemies meeting each other in the middle and realizing how much fun
they were having giving each other hell, even if neither was
willing to admit it.

“You’re a world-class asshole, Trace,” she
said, her laughter subsiding. But she still wore an effervescent
smile.

“And you’re a world-class bitch, Cordray.”
He cleared his throat as another chuckle bounced around inside his
chest.

“I’ve been called worse.”

“By better people, too, right?”

She dipped her head thoughtfully to one
side. “Given my present company, that would be a yes.”

“Thought so.” He turned his gaze out the
window as downtown grew farther behind them by the
ninety-mile-per-hour second. Cordray had one hell of a lead
foot.

After a couple of minutes of silence, he
shifted in his roomy, leather seat and got more comfortable. “So
where is this shelter with all these Cordray-influenced rugrats
running around? I assume that’s where we’re going?”

She drummed her long fingers on the steering
wheel. “It’s in McHenry.”

McHenry was a bit of a hike from Chicago,
but the way Cordray was driving, they’d be there in no time.

“You’ll be working off your community
service there,” she said.

“Doing what? Teaching them the way of the
Force?” He lifted his right hand.

She shot him a semi-amused glance. “I don’t
think they’re ready for that just yet, but don’t worry. I’ve got
plenty to keep you busy.” She smirked like she was enjoying having
him under her thumb a little too much. “I own twenty acres of land.
Lots of trees, lots of grass, a massive garden, and horses. You’re
going to be very busy.”

“Got any pigs?”

“No, why?”

He shrugged and propped the heel of his boot
on the dash. “Just wondering where you keep your relatives.”

“Ha ha,” she said flatly. “You should be a
comedian.”

“Maybe in my next life.”

“Do you mind?” She reached across the
console and knocked his foot off the dash.

He lowered it to the floor. “My boots are
clean.”

“That’s not the point.” She huffed.
“Just . . . sit there like an adult.”

He rolled his eyes and looked out the side
window, muttering, “Gee, are you sure I can?”

She ignored him, and nothing was said for a
while as they flew at Mach 1 along the interstate. The eastbound
lanes heading toward the city were getting busier, but nothing like
how congested they would be during rush hour.

“So,” Cordray said a couple minutes later,
“do I need to worry about having you around my kids?”

“Why? Do you think I might taint them with
my
disease
?”

She sighed irritably. “What I meant was,
after what happened to you last night—your seizure or whatever that
was. Are you sure it’s safe for you to be around children?”

And there it was.

Fear.

Of him.

The story of his life.

Trace frowned and averted his gaze back out
the passenger window. He’d been an outcast all his life. Teased by
the other kids when he was younger, made fun of and bullied by
Mason and his cronies, and then avoided as if he’d carried leprosy
when the strangeness within him began to show itself. Back when he
couldn’t control it. Back when it scared the living shit out of him
as much as it did everyone else.

Everywhere he went, he left destruction in
his wake. It was inevitable. Sooner or later, his power got away
from him, just as it had when he thought he’d killed Apostle, as
well as when he found his father in Bishop’s lab. In both
instances, his power had risen like it wasn’t even a part of him,
as if it were a separate entity merely using his body as a vessel.
And he’d unleashed it. He’d let it do as it pleased, killing Deacon
and his dreck friends and turning that traitorous vampire working
for Bishop into splattered protein residue.

But such occurrences were rare. For the most
part, he’d learned how to control the beast.

“I’m not a danger to your kids,” he
said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” The word left his lips on an
irritated hiss as his frustration over being such a freak of nature
simmered just under his skin.

“I’m just being careful, Trace. These kids
are everything to me. They’re why I get up every day and do what I
do to make this world a better place. When you’ve got nothing else
to live for, you—” She sucked in her breath and snapped her mouth
shut as if she’d said too much. Then she sniffed proudly and lifted
her chin. “But then you probably wouldn’t know anything about
needing something to live for, would you?” Contempt dripped from
every syllable.

Was she jealous? Of him?

“You’d be surprised.” For over a century,
the only thing that had kept him going was the smallest shard of
hope that one day his life would hold meaning. That he would meet
his mate and find his place in the world.

Then he’d met Micah. But even though Micah
and Sam had filled a gaping vacancy in his soul, there was still a
void neither could permeate. An emptiness only a mate could
fill.

He glanced sideways at Cordray. She was more
than enough female for twenty normal males, but just enough for
him. Strong and fearless. Bold. Rough. Not too soft, not too hard,
but just right in a way that made his dick stand up and take notice
every time she was near. And now that he’d seen her without all
that makeup she normally wore, he realized she was strikingly
beautiful. Everything he’d always wanted in a female. The longer he
was around her, the more he wanted to let his fingers do the
walking all over her ample curves.

The only problem was, if he touched her that
way, she’d probably cut off his hand. Or castrate him. Since he
would rather not part with his dick over a novelty, it was better
to pretend he hated her than actually admit he found her
attractive.

Too bad, because he wouldn’t mind seeing
what sex without submission felt like. He never got hard outside
the playroom, but around Cordray, he was hard all the time. Maybe
not fully erect, but it wouldn’t take much to get him there.

“Yeah, well,” Cordray said, “just make sure
you don’t lose your juice around my kids.” Resolve tightened her
jaw. “My ranch is a haven for young vampires who get caught up in
the human system. It’s for our orphans. Those who have no one else
and have lost their parents and everyone they’ve come to know as
family. They need stability. They need to know the world is safe. I
give them that. I become their family, and I won’t let anyone hurt
them. Not even you, Power Ranger.”

“How maternal of you.” He tried to sound
unimpressed, but the fact that she looked out for the abandoned
children among their kind touched his heart.

At one time, he’d been young and alone.
Terrified and unsure. Abandoned. If not for those who’d taken him
in, looked after him, and helped him understand and control his
power, he might not have survived beyond his transition.

The work Cordray did was a noble endeavor.
One he wanted to support.