Bound Guardian Angel (22 page)

Cordray took Null’s hand. “You come with me.
We’ll get you into a fresh change of clothes.”

She motioned for Trace to follow her as she
headed toward the building behind the main house that looked like a
cross between a dorm and an apartment building. Her gaze flitted to
his soiled T-shirt. “You can change while I take care of Null. Then
I’ll give you the thirty-second tour and have Brenna toss your
shirt in with the laundry before she starts class.”

“Class?”

She took the prefabricated concrete steps up
to the small porch and twisted the door handle. “Yes, class. She’s
one of the teachers I have on staff.” She pushed the door open and
led him inside.

They entered what appeared to be a large
community room. The space was filled with beanbag chairs, a couch,
a couple of desks, a table, two recliners, and bins for toys. On
the far wall hung a large flat-screen TV with a boss gaming console
on the entertainment unit underneath. These kids lived in
style.

He followed her past the room toward a set
of stairs. Null toddled along beside her.

“This is where the kids go to school.” She
waved her arm as if to encompass the entire first floor. “There are
six small classrooms, even though we only use two of them right
now.” She started up the stairs. “The kids’ rooms are up here.
Brenna and Mya sleep up here, too.” She let go of Null’s hand and
patted his rump. “Go up to your room and grab a clean change of
clothes, okay? Hurry up.”

His tiny feet pounded on the stairs as he
darted ahead of them.

“Mya? Who’s Mya?” His gaze was level with
her firm, round ass, and his eyelids slid like silk over his eyes
as he grinned at the thought of giving her a little hello
squeeze.

“Mya’s the other female who helps me out
full time around here. Asylum relies on volunteers for most of the
labor, but Mya and Brenna are always here. They take care of the
kids when I’m gone, and they run the school.”

At the top of the stairs, she directed him
into the bathroom, where she wet a washcloth and grabbed a towel
out of the linen closet. “You can change in here. Meet me back
downstairs when you’re finished.” She briefly eyed his chest then
turned and hurried down the hall. A few seconds later, he heard her
say, “Okay, little man, let’s get you out of those clothes and
clean you up.”

Trace shut the bathroom door and set his
duffel on the counter before peeling his soiled shirt over his
head.

He grabbed a washcloth of his own from the
closet, wet it, and brushed it over the back of his neck and
shoulders as he blindly stared at his reflection in the mirror. But
it wasn’t his adult self he saw. It was the child he’d once
been.

Scared, hungry, and cowering in the dark,
cold forest. His mother was dead. He’d thought his father and
brother were dead, too. Like the kids Cordray looked after, he’d
been alone. An orphan.

Luckily, a tribe of Choctaw Indians had
found him on their way west to Oklahoma. The tribe’s prophet, an
elder named Holahta, said it was a great honor to save him. That he
would grow to be powerful and do good deeds for mankind. For a
short time, Trace had found a place with the tribe and hadn’t felt
like a complete freak, even though many in the tribe kept their
distance.

But his time with the Choctaw, while
comforting and educational, had been short-lived. On his
twenty-sixth birthday, fully transitioned into his adult vampire
body, Holahta passed away, and the tribe’s chief told him it was
time for him to make his own way. That his path didn’t lie with the
Choctaw. And so he was cast from the nest.

That had been nearly one hundred eighty
years ago. He’d headed north, eventually finding his way to Chicago
and AKM. Then he’d found Micah, and Sam by extension.

With Micah and Sam, he was no longer a
lonely freak. For the first time in his life, he fit in. He was
accepted and loved.

And yet, it still wasn’t enough. He wanted
more. He wanted a mate of his own. He didn’t want to have to always
borrow Micah’s during their trysts.

He desperately longed to form the kind of
attachment to his own mate the way Micah had with Sam. The way Sev
had with Ari, Malek had with Gina, and Io—the resident playboy—had
with Princess Miriam. Hell, if Io could find a mate, surely he
could.

But he hadn’t. Not yet. Maybe he never
would.

Everyone around him was taking a mate, and,
once more, he found himself on the outside looking in. Left behind.
With a family of vampires all around him, and yet utterly alone in
the one way that mattered most in his heart.

He shut off the faucet and tossed the
washcloth aside before drying himself and pulling on a clean shirt.
Then he zipped up his duffel, snagged his dirty shirt, and made his
way back downstairs, where Cordray was waiting alone, arms crossed,
ass planted on the arm of the couch.

“Where’s little man?” he said, looking
around for Null.

She pushed to her feet and dropped her arms
to her sides as she opened the door. “He went up to the house for
breakfast.” She stepped outside. “What the hell took you so long up
there? I was beginning to think you were jacking off or
something.”

He scowled and sauntered down the porch steps.
“Maybe I was jacking off.”

She shut the door behind them. “What you do
in your own time is your business, but I won’t have that kind of
shit around my kids.”

He held a palm toward her. “Christ, talk
about chasing the end of a circle.” He huffed. “I was kidding.”

“Good.”

“What have you got against a little
self-gratification, anyway?”

“Nothing, it’s just—”

“It’s not like beating off is a sin or
anything. Unless you’re a bible thumper. Did you suddenly go all
bible-thumper-crazy-Christian lady on me? Because you’re going to
be no fun at all if you did.” He adjusted the strap of his bag over
his shoulder and smirked, enjoying giving her shit. “I mean, I’d
have to stop calling you Satan’s mistress. That would suck.”

“Would you just shut up and let me give you
the rundown?”

“Rundown away, church lady.”

She sighed and shook her head then pointed
to the barn. From here, he could see there was a chicken coop
behind it, surrounded by a fence made of chicken wire. “That’s the
stable. We have two horses right now, but the kids want more,
so . . . we’ll see.” She ushered him toward a pair
of wooden boxes situated along the side of the building. She tipped
the tops open and peered inside. He leaned over her shoulder and
did the same. Both were empty. “Damn,” she said. “These are our cat
houses. I was hoping to find a new mother in one of them.” She
closed the tops.

“New mother?”

“We have a pair of females who are about to
have kittens.”

“Oh.” Another thing his hands weren’t made
for. Holding kittens.

As they made their way to the large deck,
she quickly pointed out the open fire pit behind a wall of shrubs
that needed trimming, the tennis court in the distance that had ivy
growing up the surrounding chain-link fence, and the horse ring
overgrown with grass now that spring was in the air and all the
vegetation was coming back to life.

Then she pointed to the wing on the back of
the house. “That’s the pool room.”

“Pool room?” Asylum had an indoor pool? He
looked closer. Sure enough, through the large windows, he could see
the pool’s decking and tiled walls, as well as a winding water
slide.

“We have two swimming pools. A larger one
for the older kids, and a smaller kiddie pool for the younger ones.
We have pool parties once a month. The kids love them.” She
gestured toward the windows as she continued on toward the house.
“The windows open outward, and the ceiling retracts, too, which the
kids love in the summer.”

Trace’s gaze traveled down her curves as she
took the stairs to the deck. He wouldn’t mind seeing her in a
bikini. A black leather bikini that showed off her tattoos. Nope,
he wouldn’t mind that one bit.

“I guess you in a bathing suit is one way to
scare off would-be suitors,” he said, catching the mouth-watering
scent of butter and bacon as she opened the back door.

She stopped and glared over her shoulder at
him. “Is it even possible for you to behave?”

“Behaving’s not in my genome, sweetheart.”
He winked as he passed in front of her and stepped inside what
appeared to be the mud room.

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t call me
sweetheart.”

He sneered. “Queen Bitch?”

The way blue flames lit inside her eyes made
the jab worth any aggravation she’d put him through later. “Try
again.”

“Coco?”

“Only if you’re a two-year-old.” She gasped
in mock surprise. “Oh, that’s right. You
are
a
two-year-old.”

“What can I say? I’m a kid at heart.” He
inhaled her dark, edgy scent as she let the door slam behind her
and shrugged out of her coat. As much as he didn’t want to admit
it, she smelled sexy. Like feminine perspiration, oranges, and
musk.

“How about you try growing up for a change?”
She hung her coat on a hook.

“And spoil all the fun? Never.” He wanted to
grab her hair and pull her back around to face him, just so he
could get a look at all that blue fire in her eyes.

“I’m not amused.”

“Ah, now you’re just hurting my feelings,
Coco.”

“Don’t call me Coco.”

“But you said—”

“It’s Cordray to you, Cro-Magnon man. Or C.
Those are your choices.” She crossed her arms, pushing her breasts
into tantalizing mounds.

He looked her up and down. “I can think of a
few c-words I’d like to call you right about now.”

“I bet you can.”

“I kind of like Coco myself.” He hung his
jacket on the hook beside Cordray’s. “Makes me think of chocolate
and marshmallows served up in a cozy mug. Something you clearly
aren’t, by the way. Just sayin’.”

She sighed. Was that the hint of a smile he
saw biting at the corners of her mouth? “Are you finished?”

“I don’t know. Are you?” He glanced toward
the sound of children chattering farther inside the house and, for
the first time since arriving, felt a tremor of fear vibrate inside
his heart. How would the kids react to him? Would they shy away
like everyone else in his life did? Would they be scared of
him?

She huffed and turned for the doorway
leading into a short hallway. “You can leave your bag in here for
now. I’ll give you the tour of the house after breakfast.” She
brushed by him and left the room as if she didn’t care whether he
followed her or not. On the way out, she muttered, “I hope you
don’t need a drop cloth when you eat.”

He set his bag beside a bay of lockers, two
of which on the bottom row had Aiden’s and Null’s names on them.
“Naw, I follow the five-second rule,” he called after her.

“Of course you do,” she called back.

He followed her into the kitchen, where
Brenna was scooping four golden pancakes from a griddle. Another
female—presumably Mya—was taking up bacon and sausage from a large
iron skillet. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, and it was
pulled into a ponytail, which swished and bobbed as she glanced
over her shoulder and smiled. Her catlike eyes gave him a swift
once-over. When she turned and set the platter of meat on the
counter, he read the front of her T-shirt.
I’m what Willis was
talkin’ ’bout
was written in bright-orange block letters.

“You must be Trace.” She set down her tongs
and extended her hand.

He took it and nodded. His pulse quickened
as his nerves danced up a notch. Social situations weren’t his
thing. After shaking his hand, Mya went back to helping Brenna
finish breakfast.

He wasn’t used to being around so many
people, and he didn’t have the best track record when meeting this
many new faces. Tightness and panic fluttered through his
chest.

Beside him, Cordray perked up as if she’d
felt his fear.

“Are you okay?” she whispered. Concern edged
her voice. “You’re not . . . you
know . . .” Her gaze flicked quickly to his
hands.

His eyes darted to hers as he took several
small, rapid breaths.

She touched his arm, and in a blink, his
heart rate calmed. His breathing returned to normal.

What the hell? He glanced down at where her
hand delicately curled around his forearm. Never had anyone calmed
him with such a gentle caress. Always in the past, when his beast
pushed forward or fear gripped his throat, it had taken the
heavy-handed pain that he now received from Micah to pull himself
back from the brink. Cordray had barely touched him, but it had
been enough to tame his demon.

“I’m fine.” He reluctantly pulled his arm
from her loose grasp. “Just . . .” Admitting that he
wasn’t good in social situations sat about as well on his stomach
as food poisoning. “I’m not a people person.”

“No shit,” she whispered. Then, more calmly,
“You sure you’re okay?” Her tone and expression were surprisingly
compassionate. Then worry crept over her face as she dropped her
gaze to his right hand again as if she feared it would blast her
into the next decade any second. “I can’t have you losing control
in here, Trace. I need to make sure my kids are safe around
you.”

“They are.” He frowned and took a step away
from her. “I won’t hurt them.”

Maybe he was a Cretan, and maybe he was the
Hand of God who could crush his enemies’ innards into pulp, but he
wouldn’t hurt Cordray’s kids. Of that much he was certain.

Kids were his one and only soft spot.
Especially orphans who reminded him of his own lonely childhood. He
would lay down his life to make sure Cordray’s children remained
safe.

“Everything okay here?” Brenna said.

He glanced up to find her and Mya staring at
him like he had a bomb strapped to his chest.