Deceiving the Protector (21 page)

Lia looked up the long distance from Pale’s chest to his face, those expressive eyes of hers registering growing levels of horror. On the one hand, Pale got that reaction a lot from women, but Tate figured there was more to Lia’s reaction than simple terror of a huge male.

“Your tag is disabled, Lia. It’s okay.”

“How can you know that?” She didn’t seem able to tear her eyes away from Pale, which would bother him if Pale’s scowl wasn’t turning his face into a thundercloud.

“I can explain, just don’t start yelling until you take a look at something for me. Pale?” Tate gestured for the tracker still rolled up in Pale’s grip, which his brother handed over wordlessly.

She only paused a second before taking it from him. Her slim hand slid over the surface of the screen while she opened her mouth again, but either she couldn’t decide which question to ask or she was trying to do what he said. At least for a few seconds. “That’s my frequency number” was all she seemed able to say.

“We figured,” Pale said gruffly. He reached out his hand and she gave him back the tracker as if just the feel of it was revolting. Pale quickly stowed it out of sight, which, given the hint of a relieved smile on Lia’s face, might have earned him some trust.

Her brows drew together again and she finally looked back at Tate, her frown this time without question for him. “What do you mean you’re leaving?”

“That’d be my cue to go.” Pale fixed his gaze on her for a brief moment. “Welcome to the pack, Lia.” Then he was gone.

Lia’s confusion remained. “How is that mark gone? How is…all of it gone?”

“Jade.” Who deserved more than an apology. For bringing Lia back, he owed her grateful servitude, though the stubborn woman probably wouldn’t take it. “She’s a healer, remember? A really powerful one,” he added, his throat so tight he was strangling on it. Before he realized it, she’d reached for his hand, grasping it tight. Her fingers twined with his immediately. He stared down, still not quite able to believe this was the one that had been burned so badly he’d barely been able to tell it was a hand. Now there was only silky-soft skin, warm to his touch. Strong.

She pulled on him, less than gently, leaning forward so that they were practically nose-to-nose. “What do you mean,
you’re leaving?
”

“There’s something I need to do still.”

“What could you possibly have to do?” Suspicion glittered in the darkest shadows of her eyes. “What could be so important that you’re going to leave me here? With strangers.”

“Not strangers. Family.” Family that had done everything in their considerable power to come to their rescue. “They’ll protect you.”

“I don’t need protection—” Whatever else she was going to say, he couldn’t guess and she seemed to bite into submission. She also seemed to be forcing her temper down to some kind of manageable level. “You’re not answering the question.”

He hoped his smile didn’t look as painful as it felt. “Have I mentioned to you that you’d make a good lawyer?”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Too many things. How he felt about her. That if he had his choice, he’d be back under those blankets with her, gorging himself on her scent, her taste and the way only she made him feel. He ran his thumb over her fingers, wishing he had the right to bring them to his lips. But he couldn’t, because he didn’t have the right. Sure as shit didn’t deserve it, either.

But he would.

“I won’t be gone long. Pale and Jade will take you back to Resurrection with them. You’ll have everything you need there, I promise.”

“No, I w—Tate, stop, just stop. You don’t have to go anywhere. Stay here and talk to me.”

Tempting. Too tempting. “It’s been a hell of a few days,” he began, trying to see past his own needs. If he listened to those, he’d already be marking her, but this wasn’t about being a Wolf. It was about being a man. About giving her a chance to be a woman. “You need some time still. Time before you make up your mind. You have options, ones you didn’t before.”

The look on her face was far too knowing. “What kind of options?”

She could go anywhere in the world. Meet other people without fearing for them. Find a mate she could have faith in. Even if she could never have children with anyone else—something else to damn himself for—she should have the freedom to look around and discover if another man was what she wanted.

“I want you to take time before you bind yourself to anyone. Learn about your new life. Find out what you want it to be.”
Without me in the way.
She’d never find another mate if he was there watching. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from removing the competition. Or worse, if he stayed close, he’d take her at the first opportunity and earn her undying hatred. Just the thought of it made him ill.

“And what are you supposed to be doing while I
find myself?
”

He winced at the derision dripping from her tone. “I’m going to be doing some research on your past.”

“My past?” At least this question sounded genuinely surprised.

“Your family was sold out somehow, Lia. I’ve been trying to find out for a very long time how the government decides where to send their death squads. Maybe if I can learn more about how they were betrayed, combine it with some research on that task force you mentioned, I can figure out more about where the largest threat to the Underground is coming from.” Could possibly even use it to try to trace what this task force may have done with her sister. As long shots went, this was a Hail Mary of epic proportions, but he’d never had another lead pan out for tracing the death squads and who controlled them. If he was lucky, the job might actually keep him from taking what he didn’t deserve.

“That sounds a lot like bullshit, Tate.”

Yes, yes it did. “It’s still the truth.”

She opened her mouth to say something more, but he couldn’t let her. Damning himself to a piece of heaven, he moved closer to her, scooping her face into his hands and silencing her with a kiss. She opened to him immediately, meeting him with demands of her own. Strokes of her tongue, nips of her teeth. He took the kiss deeper, breathing her in, pulling her into his chest until he was sure the impression of her there would stay in his mind forever. Her hands slid over his ribs, clutching his sides, pulling him over her.

But he couldn’t. If he did, he’d stay. And he’d never be able to look her in the eye again.

He tore away, ignoring the stings in his sides from her grasp, and left the room without looking back.

Freedom was not what she expected.

He’d been gone over an hour and Lia stood in the bathroom, barefoot and confused. Her hands on the cool white sink, she stared at the mirror above it, looking for an explanation but all she saw were questions.

The face in the reflection didn’t have a mark on it. Not like it had while she’d brushed her teeth back in the hotel. Back then, she’d had to be ginger, because even her gums were badly bruised. Asher’s unforgiving punch had cracked her cheekbone, swelling and blackening the entire side of her face. Not enough to throw her into healing sleep, but definitely something that would take several days to fully heal. What he’d done to her once he’d found her should have been worse, but there wasn’t a trace of his touch on her.

Even older scars were gone. The line on the left side of her forehead, where she’d been hit with a rifle the night her parents died. The grooves in the small of her back where Asher had carved his long lines for every day she’d run from him.

None of those mattered as much as the utter silence of pain. She pulled her shirt collar away, stretching to see where Asher’s mark used to burn. Nothing. To the touch, it was as if the flesh had never been ravaged. As though the last two years of her life had never happened.

She yanked up her shirt, throwing it to the floor in her rush. Along her ribs, the three lines the scientists had used over and over again to carve into her, to test her healing abilities, her organs—gone.

The external map of her body had somehow become completely different, and that wasn’t all. Inside, she felt different. She’d been running on empty so long she’d almost forgotten what a healthy shifter was meant to feel like. No aches. No pains. Every muscle glided, her balance so fine she could sense every tiny shift of movement and balance. As if her entire body revved with energy waiting to be expended. She could run for twenty miles and not even be winded.

But she couldn’t keep her mate.

She clenched her jaw, clamping her teeth until they hurt. Anger, at Tate, at everything and everyone, filled her until she was practically vibrating. This wasn’t freedom. This was being lost. Being abandoned.

Something made a cracking noise, snapping her back from her thoughts. The sink’s porcelain surface had ugly black cracks, running from her hands down to the drain. She pulled them off, rolling her eyes as she closed her lids slowly. Great, now she had to get used to her own strength again, which somehow made her angrier. Counting to ten wouldn’t help. Counting to a thousand wouldn’t.

If she could, she’d rip that sink right out and throw it across the room.

“Hey, you’ve got a pretty good set for a skinny girl.”

In the doorway stood an unexpected sight. A woman, just over five feet, with dark auburn hair, a spattering of freckles and dark, unblinking eyes. Head to toe in black and leather, holding out a white T-shirt.

“Mine are flat as fuck, but that works for me just fine. I mean, no one’s accidentally cutting a nip off me, you know what I mean?”

Was that a shotgun handle strapped to the woman’s back?

“Never could figure out what all the fuss about tits was, but us stick figures usually don’t get much choice about it either way. You’re really lucky. Bet if you put on a few pounds, you’d—”

Lia absolutely did not want to know where that comment was going. “Who are you?” She took the shirt and pulled it on quickly. It wasn’t much, but at least it came down nearly to her knees.

“Oh, I’m Betha. I’m the captain of this area. Tate’s my direct superior, so I thought I’d come in and give him a hard time.” She didn’t bother turning to look for him. “Ran for it, huh? Asshole. Males are so damn whiny, I swear.”

Lia stared, but no amount of looking at this weird little woman would make her understandable. She went with the least baffling option. “Tate’s not whiny.”

“Oh please. He’s a male. They take whining to new heights. Or would that be lows?”

“Wh-who are you again?” The voice was vaguely familiar, but she’d remember if she’d ever seen this face. With her trio of scars, that face wasn’t possible to forget.

Betha frowned hard enough to crease her brows. “You need pants.”

Lia looked down at her own bare legs. “I know. Can we get back to the whining, please?”

Betha shrugged, turning into the room, revealing, yes, a shotgun in a holster on her back, crossed underneath with three knife handles at various angles. The black braces on each of her forearms glinted with small silver blades ready for throwing. Lia didn’t want to guess what might be in the pockets running down the sides of her legs. “Males come one of two ways and I’m not talking just shifters. All of them. Even the damn dogs on leashes. Either they like a woman who’s as strong or stronger than them…or they’re threatened by her.”

Lia followed her out, carefully. She didn’t doubt Betha came across the latter pretty frequently.

“I always figured Tate for the first kind, not that there are a lot of females who can match him that way. He’s a strong bastard.” The other woman circled the bed to grab a pair of jeans from atop a dresser. She tossed them casually across the bed for Lia to pick up. “He can handle a woman fighting her own fights—hell, he taught me to fight for myself.” The sharp-toothed grin dared Lia not to be impressed. “But there’s not a male alive that won’t get six kinds of butt-hurt if he fails to protect what he feels is his.”

“Is that what he told you? That he failed to protect me?”

“No. Hell, no. Are you kidding me? He’s not going to talk about that, least of all with me.” For the briefest of seconds, Betha’s smile faltered, straining too tight across her elfin face. Lia might have missed it entirely if not for the sudden shift of her dark eyes to a golden iris with a wide, feline pupil. That took longer for the other woman to wrestle back under control. “No,” she continued, inhaling carefully. “This is experience talking. He’s probably holding himself responsible for my men too, but that he can deal with. We’ve had losses before. Not being able to keep his mate from harm? Man, I can’t think of a shifter who wouldn’t rather have his balls served to him on a salted spike.”

“Why?” The anger came rushing back. Lia grabbed the jeans and yanked them up her legs roughly. They were loose, but then so were all the other pairs she’d ever bought. They stayed on, that was all that mattered. “Why is it all right for him to fight for me, but I can’t fight for him?”

“You can. And believe me, this is Tate we’re talking about. If you two manage to work things out, there’s
going
to be fighting.” Betha actually laughed a little. “That man’s head is made of solid concrete and the day you forget it, you’re in for a world of trouble. He likes things his way, he keeps to himself, and the second you’re ready to kill him, he acts like you’re no longer worth his five-hundred-dollar-an-hour time.”

Lia leveled her an impatient glare.

“Okay, okay, fine. It’s not that you
can’t
protect him. But for all the humanity we wear, shifters are shifters. We’re territorial, especially about mates. If you’re not
bonded
to him, you can walk away at any time. You’re the female. You’re the one who chooses.”

“Excuse me?”

For the first time, Betha looked a little worried. “Didn’t he tell you any of this?”

“How about you refresh my memory.” Though, honestly, she wasn’t sure if he had or not. He’d said so much about mating, but not much of it made sense.

“Ooookay. Well, the way it was explained to me, when a boy bee-shifter meets a girl bee-shifter—”

“If you say anything about stingers, I swear, I’ll kill you with your own gun.”