Greyson - Part 4: An Alpha Billionaire Shifter Romance (The Silver Moon Pack) (10 page)

Chapter
5

Hawke

“I want to paint her, Archer.
I need to
.” Hawke knew most people wouldn’t understand that sort of thing, but it wasn’t something he could deny himself and still stay sane. When he got an idea, found a subject—
found his muse
—he had to paint, the need overwhelming, all-consuming, constantly invading his thoughts until he could focus on nothing else.

“I know you do.” And it was true…Archer certainly knew what it was like, and he respected Hawke’s process. “But…this won’t be easy if we’re going to keep her from knowing there’s two of us.”

“We could tell her.” It was a simple enough solution.

“Maybe we’ll be able to in the future, if she decides to stick around for any length of time. But we don’t know her, Hawke. I really do like her, and I want to trust her—but I don’t know that we can tell her the truth just yet, especially when we don’t know what sort of trouble she has following her.” Archer played with his glass of whiskey, swirling the amber liquid in the light of the fire. “For now I think it’s best if we just stick to being Jackson.”
Their shared middle name
.

They’d played this game before. Hawke didn’t pretend to be Archer, and Archer didn’t pretend to be him. They just became one—
Jackson
—with one brother picking up where the other had left off. It was a game they’d certainly played when it came to women. And yet things felt different when it came to Phoebe, though he wasn’t quite sure why.

Maybe it was because she’d been in such a fragile position when he’d found her. He didn’t like the idea of deceiving her, and yet he knew that for now, his brother was right. As popular as his paintings were, that sort of news would spread like wildfire, and it could potentially ruin his career and send the media to his front door. People didn’t like being deceived, even if it was his prerogative not to use his real name. Authors got to use pen names, performers picked personas, and yet it wasn’t the norm for fine art.

“If you want to paint her, I think it’s great—though she might not agree to it, skittish as she is. And she is definitely skittish.” Archer finished his whiskey and set his glass aside. “We’ll need to be careful, though. If need be, use the corridors to keep her from figuring out that there are two of us.”

The house on the island had been in their family since the late 1800s, and bespoke of the wealth that came with the Townsend name. But Seth Townsend, the founder of the estate, had been a little odd and a good bit paranoid. As a result, the house he’d built as a summer escape had more than a few hidden corridors and rooms, and since the place was large enough, it was easy enough for one not to notice that the dimensions didn’t always measure up.

Needing to see Phoebe again, Hawke wandered into the kitchen, and put together a tray of food for her. It’d been several days since she washed up on shore, and was finally starting to get some of her strength back, though he worried that as she started feeling better, she’d also start looking to leave—and the thought of her taking off and leaving them was fucking doing his head in. He had to find a way to get her to stay, and frankly, he’d do whatever it took to make that happen.

He knocked on her door, letting himself in once she’d given him admittance. “How are you feeling?”

She set aside the book she’d been reading as she lounged on the bed atop the covers, dressed in thermal leggings, rag wool socks, a tank top, and an unbuttoned flannel shirt. It was nearly enough to do him in, and it took all he had not to pull her into his arms and ravage her. “A lot better. Thanks for asking. I should be able to get out of your hair soon.”

“You know there’s no rush. Besides, I’m not sure how wise that would be anyway. Not if someone’s still out there trying to kill you.” Hawke set the tray down on the bedside table, trying to rein in his anger at the thought of some asshole harming her.
Abusive fucker
. They were all the same—sadists on power trips.

She’d yet to say anything about the circumstances that had landed her in her current predicament, and yet it didn’t take a fucking genius to figure out the basics. And though he didn’t want to push her for answers, knowing all too well that some secrets were better left alone, he was desperate to keep her safe, and he could only do that if he had all the facts.

“It’s been nearly a week, Jackson. And don’t think I didn’t notice that I’ve kicked you out of your own bedroom.” Phoebe bit her bottom lip and sat forward, crossing her legs. “I can’t just stay here forever. At some point you’re going to have to kick me out.”

He sat down on the bed next to her, and cupped her cheek, unable to resist touching her and knowing that Archer felt the same irresistible draw to her. “Stay, Phoebe. I like having you here, and unless your other problems have resolved themselves, then you’re safer staying here where it’s unlikely anyone will find you. As for my bedroom…” A mischievous smile kicked up on his lips, though he couldn’t remember the last time it’d been there. “There are a few ways to resolve that issue.”

Fuck…he wanted her. Hell…she’d been his only thought since she washed up on the shore. And he’d be damned if he was going to let her get away. Pulling her close, he took in the feel of her in his arms, the way her curves pressed against his body, the way her breath caught as her head tilted toward his, expectantly waiting, caught in a moment of tension and possibilities.

He knew that he could easily scare her away, given her circumstances, and yet, in that moment, he could do nothing but kiss her, as if caught in her spell, his lips lingering until their kiss deepened just long enough to let her know how badly he wanted her. He could sense her pulse racing as he reluctantly ended their kiss, though he was unable to let her go, especially when she wasn’t putting any distance between them.

“Jackson…I
really
like you. But you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” She let out a shuddered breath as if trying to be strong, as if trying to beat back her demons. “Trust me when I tell you, I’m not worth the aggravation.”

“Then you don’t know your true value. And believe me when I tell you, I know exactly what I’m getting myself into.” His mind flashed to images of his stepfather before he had a chance to lock them away. “Tell me what happened to you, and we’ll deal with it together. Someone may have hurt you, but they won’t get to fucking do it again. I’m going to keep you safe, Phoebe. You have my word.”

He’d kill the bastard who hurt her—and there was no fucking way he was letting anyone lay a goddamned finger on her.

“It’s just a nightmare…”

She sounded so…exhausted. And he knew how hopeless an abusive situation could feel.

“Is the mafia after you?” He kept his tone matter-of-fact, even though he was joking, hoping to push some of her darkness away. And when her lips kicked up in a smile, his heart felt lighter than it’d ever had.

“No. Luckily I’ve managed to stay clear of them.”

Hawke tilted his head in question. “Some gold-toothed drug lord? Your pimp?”

She swatted at his arm playfully with a laugh. “Are you saying you think I’m some sort of prostitute?”

His brows perked as he gave her a sultry smile, though it was clear he was still teasing her. “Sweetheart, if you are, this could get a whole lot more fun in a hurry.”

“You’re awful, Jackson.” But she was laughing despite all her problems, and he hadn’t ever heard a sweeter sound.

His mood then turned toward the serious, knowing he needed information if he had any hope of keeping her away from this ass. “Then tell me, little one…who tried to hurt you?”

When she looked down at her hands, avoiding his gaze, he twined his fingers with hers. “It was my ex. I left him over two years ago—and I’ve been hiding and running ever since.”

Hawke tried to control his anger, and was doing a fucking lousy job of it. “Have you gotten a restraining order against him?”

“He’s on the police force—and to make matters worse, he comes from a family that’s well-connected and wealthy. I got a restraining order, for all the good it did. Instead, I just had his buddies on the force constantly harassing me, pulling me over, threatening me. In the end, it was easier to just leave…disappear…except that he keeps managing to find me. Wants me to know that I belong to him and if he can’t have me, no one will.” Though she held back any tears that may have been threatening, her entire body started to shake uncontrollably. “Shit…I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Hawke pulled her into his arms, and held her tightly to him, doing his best to soothe her as he fought through the fury that was raging inside him. And there was more there…because he knew firsthand about bullies like her ex who liked to scare and control other people, like to hurt them for their kicks, and he refused to let her come to harm again. “I fucking swear, I’ll do all in my power to keep you safe and make sure he pays for what he’s done to you.”

She pulled out of his arms, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “He’ll hurt you, Jackson. And I won’t be able to live with myself if you come to harm because of me.”

“Sweetheart, if he tries hurting you, he’ll be the one who’ll have to worry.” He brushed the hair from her eyes, his breath catching at the sight of her with her luminous skin and thick, dark hair.

Unable to resist, he nuzzled her before catching her mouth in another kiss, his tongue dancing with hers as his cock went hard, desperate to have her. Her hands knotted in his shirt as he deepened their kiss, and he swore, he could think of little else but claiming her, ravishing her, right there in his bed, her soft curves and willing body cradled in his arms as he took her with an intensity that refused to be denied.

And it was why he should push her away, even if it seemed like an impossibility. He was still dealing with his own demons, and already, he cared about her far too much. “Fuck, Phoebe…I know the last thing you need is me wanting you, but I do…so fucking bad.”

He was like some goddamned fucking horny teenager, unable to control his damned hormones. But he’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted Phoebe, and it was making him crazy and impatient.

With a shy smile, she slipped her hand in his. “I’m flattered…I really am. But things are complicated and the last thing I want to do is drag you into my mess of a life. I’m sorry…especially after all you’ve done for me, but…my head’s really messed up right about now.”

“Of course it is. And I get that…I really do. I don’t mean to scare you off, and I also don’t want you thinking that you’re in any way obligated because you’re staying here. Which is why I’m hoping you’ll say yes to my offer.” He took a deep breath, hoping she’d agree to the proposition he was about to make her. Because if she didn’t, he didn’t think he could deal with the darkness that would come if she left. “I want you to stay here—as my muse.”

Humor and confusion vied for attention as her brow creased, and her lips kicked up in a small smile. “Your muse? I don’t get it, Jackson. Are you some sort of writer?”

“I paint—except that I haven’t painted anything in over six months—or rather I hadn’t, until you washed up on the shore. Seems like having you around is just what I needed.” He took a deep breath to slow the hammering of his heart and rein in the darkness. “I want to paint you, Phoebe—and I’m willing to pay you handsomely for the privilege.”

“Wait…Jackson…
Jackson Townsend
?” She shook her head as if trying to clear it. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m not. I’d require six months of your time. Maybe longer. You’d stay here, and you’d work around my schedule, which can sometimes be erratic. But it’d give you the opportunity to keep a low profile so your ex doesn’t find you, and you’ll have whatever you need to start a new life. Just name your price, Phoebe.”

“That’s insane.” When he gave her a stern look that told her he wasn’t kidding, she rolled her eyes. “Fine—one hundred thousand dollars for six months.”

“Try again—and this time aim higher.” Money was of little consequence to him. He and his brother were heirs to an immeasurable fortune, and his paintings were highly sought after.

Her eyes went wide as she gave him a sarcastic glare. “Fine. Two hundred thousand.”

All he could do is shake his head with a laugh. “I’ll give you a million—but
you’re mine
for six months.”

Her eyes went wide as she shifted back away from him in shock. “You’re insane.”

“No, sweetheart…I’m rich. There’s a difference.”

Chapter
6

Archer

“Did she agree to model for you?” Archer hated to admit it, but he wanted nothing more than for Phoebe to stay with them.

Hawke had told him about her ex, and it fucking pissed him off to know some asshole had put her through that sort of thing. There was no fucking way he could let her go back to the mainland just to have her psycho ex try to murder her again.

“She wants to think about it.” Hawke paced the floor, burning off excess energy—which was making Archer crazy, and putting him on edge.

“It’s not as though she knows us, Hawke. She has no reason to trust us, and after all she’s been through, of course she’s going to be wary. But we’ll get her to come around. Okay?” They had to, because if they didn’t get her to stay, Archer knew Hawke’s darkness would be even worse than it had been before he found Phoebe on the beach. Losing her would send Hawke into a tailspin he might not recover from. “I’ll speak to her. See if I can convince her to stay.”

Hawke nodded, and finally stopped pacing. “And in the meantime, I want this ex of hers found and monitored.”

“No fucking way, Hawke. And don’t glare at me. I get it. You want him to pay for hurting Phoebe—and I feel the same way. But there’s a good chance that putting a tail on him will only make him suspicious that Phoebe’s not dead. You said he’s a cop, right? Do you really think he won’t pick up on someone tailing him?” They couldn’t take the risk, though he knew it might be an even greater risk not to know what that asshole was up to. “Let’s just get her to agree to stay, and then we can figure out the rest.”

Hawke nodded, though he still looked like a knotted bundle of nerves and rage. “I’m going to head to the gym. Burn off some of this energy before I head to the studio. If you want to try to get her up and out of her room—maybe head out, since it’s a decent day—then that’ll probably do her some good. She’s been cooped up, and the last thing we need is for her to start wandering around the place on her own.”

“I’ll do that.” Archer put a hand on his brother’s shoulder before heading to see Phoebe, who was looking a lot healthier these days. He found her standing by the window, looking out at the blue sky and ocean. “I was thinking you’re probably getting a bit claustrophobic since you’ve barely left this room. How are you feeling?”

“A lot better. It only really hurts if I try to lift my arm, and even that feels pretty damn good, considering I was shot. But…you’re right.” She gave him a crooked smile and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, making her look even more pixie-like. “I wouldn’t mind getting out for a bit.”

“Of course—and you don’t need to stay in your room. Feel free to move around the house.” Hopefully they’d be able to keep track of her—or they’d need to come clean about there being two of them. Maybe once they knew if she was staying. He closed the distance between them, drawn to her as if under some spell, and tangled his fingers with hers, needing to touch her. “Have you given my offer any more thought?”

“I’ve done nothing but think of it.” When she turned to face him, her body brushed against him, so she was all but a heartbeat away. “What would it entail?”

“You’d sit for me, while I painted you.” Or rather, while Hawke painted her. It wasn’t that he couldn’t paint, but Hawke was the one who truly had the gift—that magical quality that brought his art to life, that element that made his work feel ethereal.

“Nude?” Her brows perked up in question as she pinned him with a stern stare.

“Yes. But it would just be so that I could see the lines of your body…to capture the way the light falls over your skin. Unless, of course, you want more.” Because there was no denying just how badly he wanted her. And he knew it was the same for Hawke.

It might be odd for other siblings to share a woman, but he and Hawke were different, even for most twins, probably to a great extent because of the abuse they’d endured, physical and mental, even if Hawke had taken the brunt of the physical. It had linked them, so that they were now, in so many ways, one person…separate, but still one.

“So if I want more, that ball’s in my court, huh?” She shook her head with a laugh. “I’ll admit, it’s been a pretty long time since I was last with anyone, given my circumstances—but if I’m going to do this, I can’t mix work with pleasure.”

“Sweetheart, you can do whatever you like. This isn’t corporate America, where someone’s going to criticize your actions. That said, I want you to know that you don’t need to sleep with me to take this job—though given some time, you may very well find that you want to.” He might be bold and full of himself, but he knew his way around a woman’s body—as did Hawke. His brother might not like to leave the island, but there were always plenty of women willing to take a trip when there was a wealthy and good-looking man involved.

Phoebe gave him a shrug, her eyes locked on his. “Maybe I will.”

“Does that mean you’ll sit for me so that I can paint you?” He cupped the back of her neck and brushed his thumb across her plump red lips, desperate to kiss her and wondering if Hawke already had. He saw her breath catch as he pulled her closer. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“You realize it’s hard for a normal person to turn down that sort of offer. A million is
a lot
of money—and way too much for what you’re asking me to do.” Her gaze shifted and she bit her bottom lip, making his cock ache and strain against his jeans as he went so hard, it hurt.

He nuzzled her, breathing in her scent, which smelled of the honey and French lavender soap he’d left for her in her bath. “Just say yes, Phoebe.”

She hesitated a moment more, and then nodded, her words riding a breathy exhale that made him lose all control. “Yes.”

He captured her mouth in a bruising kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair as he hauled her to him, his tongue dancing over hers as she softened in his arms and showed him just how willing she could be. Fucking hell…he’d never wanted or been so taken with anyone more than he was with her.

It’d be so easy to just pin her to the wall and strip her naked. To nestle his face between her legs and have her screaming out his name. Except that he shouldn’t—not yet anyway. He couldn’t risk scaring her off and having her second-guess her decision to model for Hawke. And so he’d do his best to wait…though when it came to Phoebe, he didn’t know how patient he’d manage to be.

Somehow he found the strength to end their kiss, though he still held her close, loving the feel of her in his arms. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s a gorgeous day out, and I think you could do with some fresh air.”

Once he’d gotten her bundled up, they headed out with Guinness, who was thrilled to join them, dashing around the place and taking off like a shot the moment Archer opened the door. Though the sun was shining in a bright blue sky, there was still a cold wind lashing in off the ocean as the waves crashed on the shore.

“Is this where you found me?”

He could sense the tension in her body, and knew that after all she’d been through, she must still be dealing with a wealth of emotions.

“Guinness found you washed up on the beach.” Truth was, he didn’t know exactly where Hawke and Guinness had found her, but this was the stretch of beach that Hawke normally walked. “What exactly happened that night, Phoebe? You’ve yet to say—and I still worry about you and what you went through.”

When she shuddered, he pulled her into his arms and held her tight, needing her to know that she was now safe. Maybe it was because he’d worried about her when she wasn’t well, and kept watch over her, but he’d grown attached to her—and it was the same for Hawke. They might not have known her that long, but it didn’t seem to matter one bit. From the moment they’d laid eyes on her, they’d been left spellbound. They couldn’t help but want her—and it went well beyond the physical.

“I swear, I was careful. I did all I could to cover my tracks.” Her body trembled in his arms, even as he held her close and tried to soothe her. “I had moved again just recently—first to Rockport, and then to Portland, hoping that if I got out of the New York area and kept moving, he wouldn’t bother coming to find me. But somehow…I don’t know. Disappearing like that made things worse, I think. He must have tracked me down…when I got out of work, he was waiting for me in my car, and forced me to drive to the marina. I don’t know what he was thinking, short of killing me and dumping my body into the ocean. But the storm was already raging, throwing us around. He was trying to strangle me, when the boat caught a wave and pitched us. It broke his hold around my neck, and I knew I had to get off the boat. So I jumped.”

“And that was when he shot you.” Archer forced the words past gritted teeth, his body shaking with his fury.

“I figured I’d rather let the ocean take me than let him have me.” She nestled deeper into his embrace, as he kissed the top of her head. And he swore, he’d do all he could to make sure she never went through anything like that again. She looked up at him, her eyes dark with her fears and worries. “I think I must have seen the lights of your house…must have swam toward them. But the sea was so rough. I honestly don’t remember making it to shore.”

“Well, you’re safe now. And you have my word, I won’t let him lay a fucking finger on you.”

“Jackson…I honestly can’t thank you enough for saving me. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you—and you’ve been so good to me. Better than anyone’s ever been.” She took in a ragged breath, and it nearly killed him to know she’d been through so much. “I swear, I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”

“Sweetheart, seeing you get better—seeing you happy—will be payment enough.”