Leopard's Kiss (Shadow Guardians) (Shadows Guardians Book 1) (20 page)

Just saying the words brought back images of death, of the moment when he'd lost those who mattered to him, the
only
people who mattered to him. His parents. His sister. His little brother. Himself.

He stared at his brother, into the dark eyes that were so familiar, and yet belonged to a complete stranger at the same time.

Silently, Killian reached into his back pocket. He pulled out his wallet, and removed a newspaper clipping from it. He held it out. "Read it."

Slade glanced at Anya, but he took it. She leaned over his shoulder as he unfolded it. It was an article from two months ago. Frowning, he scanned the headline.
Family home burned to the ground. No survivors.
His gut went cold when he saw the photograph. He knew that house. He'd stood outside it many, many times, wishing he could walk up to the front door and knock. He looked at his brother. "This is your home."

"My parents'." A muscle ticked in Killian's cheek, the only sign of emotion in his stoic face. "It's where I grew up. My brother brought his fiancée home that night to meet the family. I had an emergency at the hospital, so I was late. Because some bastard had a heart attack, I wasn't there to save them." His jaw tightened, his voice grew hard. "They died. Four bodies, but only my parents were even identifiable. Complete carnage."

Slade swore, remembering all too well coming home to death. "I'm so sorry, Killian—"

"They were murdered."

Anya sucked in her breath.

Slade sat back on his heels, staring at his brother. "What?" Not again. Not again.
Not again.
He'd placed Killian with that family so he
wouldn't
have to face something like that, to protect him from having his heart eviscerated. Cold rushed over him, the kind of icy cold that made it difficult to breathe. "You're sure?"

Killian nodded. "In the front yard, someone had carved the words, 'Blame Killian.' They knew my real name."

"Blame you?" Fury rolled through Slade. "Why?"

Killian shrugged. "When I was searching for you, I uncovered a lot of shit I didn't like. Shit I decided to change. Things involving shifters being kidnapped and sold, just like Mom was. Someone didn't like what I was doing." He looked at Slade. "Do you understand what happened, Slade? They were all innocent, and they died because of me. My brother was getting
married.
She died because she fell in love with a man who had the crappy luck to have me for a brother."

"He was lucky as hell to have you for a brother," Slade snapped. "Never forget that."

"Was he?" Killian's eyes were haunted, and Slade saw the same guilt and grief that had haunted him for so long. "Was she so lucky? Were my parents so lucky? They're
dead.
My brother's fiancée was named Charlotte Hunter. She was twenty-five. I never even met her, and she's still dead because of me. Her family didn't even get to identify her. They were just handed her burned-out remains and told 'here's your kid. Have a nice day.'" He bowed his head, running his hands through his hair, his fingers digging into his scalp as he fought back emotion he'd never let anyone see.

Slade leaned forward. "Listen to me, Killian. You didn't kill them. Some piece of shit did. You were trying to stop him, and that was the right thing to do. Dad fought for justice, and Mom was killed by his enemies, but even as she died, she told him to keep fighting. She never blamed him, so Dad never did either. He just kept fighting, and he took down as many as he could before they got him. I'm damned proud to be his son, and damned proud to be your brother."

Killian raised his head to look at Slade. His eyes were dark and haunted, carrying guilt that Slade knew would eat away at him until he died. "Thanks."

It was one word, but it created a bond, the bond that had never been able to form because Slade had left him in that church. Slade nodded, and both brothers sat back. The moment was over. The past had to be buried once again, or survival wasn't possible.

Slade cleared his throat as he tried to shut down his own emotions and analyze what Killian had told him. A sinking feeling seemed to be sucking him down, but he fought it off, trying to breathe, trying to stay above the swell of emotions. He glanced at Anya, and he saw tears glistening in her eyes. Too much death between the three of them. Too much fucking death.

He held out his hand to her, and she slipped over to him, sliding her hand in his. He tucked their hands against his chest, trying to infuse warmth into her cold fingers while he focused on his brother. Someone had known Killian's real name. Who had he pissed off with his questions? "Is that why you were at the warehouse tonight? Is that who you were after?"

Killian hesitated, and his gaze flicked away for a split second. "Tonight had nothing to do with that. I was there because I'd sensed you were there, but once I was there, I realized what it was." He looked at Slade. "As always, you'd left by the time I got there, but this time, you came back." Killian sat down on the couch and leaned forward. "It's too late to hide me, Slade. I'm in it. People know who I am. I want to get the bastards who killed both of my families, and if you wipe my mind, you'll steal from me the justice I deserve. I'm not afraid."

Slade ran his hands through his hair. More people murdered. He'd tried to protect his brother, and he'd gotten it wrong. Not only had he failed to protect Killian, but his choice had resulted in four other people dying. Good people. People who mattered to Killian, and who mattered to him, because they'd taken care of his brother. "I'm sorry." Those two words were so inadequate, but there weren't any better ones. "Hell, Killian. I'm so sorry."

Killian inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I loved them. They were my family. I'm not going to stop until I make it right. Do you understand?"

Slade nodded. Of anything, he understood that. "How can I help?"

"Tell me what you know about the shifter black market. Leopards specifically."

Anya tensed, and Slade leaned forward. "Leopards?" he asked. "Why leopards?"

Killian raised his brows in surprise. "My parents were leopards. Like us."

"They were? Like
us
?" Slade was too shocked to respond coherently.

Killian frowned "Isn't that why you placed me with them? They were my rock when I started shifting—"

Slade leapt to his feet. "You
shift?
Into a leopard? A white leopard?"

"Black."

"Black." Slade sat down heavily. White leopards gave birth to only one white leopard. He knew that. But a black leopard? Was that a loophole he didn't know about? "You're a
shifter
."

"Yeah." Killian grinned, the first genuine smile Slade had seen on his face. "It's the best thing in my life. We have a place in the mountains where we go. It's incredible to run free like that." His face was softer, calmer, and his body seemed to relax visibly. "You going to run with me, bro? When this is over?"

"Run with you?" He hadn't run free in his entire life. Since before his first shift, he knew how dangerous it was to reveal himself. He shifted when he had to, but he kept it close and careful. He never just
ran.
"I don't do that."

Killian's smile faded, and he studied Slade. "Sorry to hear that."

Slade ran his hands through his hair, trying to clear his mind. Everything was raining down on him so quickly he couldn't think.

Anya leaned past him. "Killian, my best friend was kidnapped. We traced her to that warehouse, but she's not there anymore. Slade went back to get more information. Do you know anything about those men? Or that warehouse?"

Killian's gaze flicked to hers. "She's a shifter?"

Anya hesitated, then nodded. "White leopard."

Killian's face darkened. "Bastards." He stood up and paced across the room, running his hand through his hair the same way Slade always did. "I got their license plates. Both Escalades had contained shifters recently. I was going to run the plates and see if I could get an address. You got a computer here?"

Slade hesitated, watching as Killian stopped and looked at him, waiting. Was he really going to bring his brother into this situation? He worked alone. He existed alone. He thrived alone. And now, there were two people in his space, two people who mattered to him, two people who were so important to him that he'd be absolutely broken if something happened to them.

"Slade." Anya slipped her hand over his shoulders. "It's okay to let us in. We already have baggage. We already live with danger every day. You don't make it worse. You make it better."

He looked over at her, into her deep blue eyes. He felt so lost, like he was floundering in quicksand. She was beautiful, so achingly beautiful. He slid his hands through her hair, tunneling them through the silken tresses. "I want to hide you and protect you from all this," he whispered. "I can't lose both of you. I can't do it."

He'd worked so hard to be cold. He was used to it. It made life livable. But his walls were falling, and it was getting more difficult to breathe, to think, to focus. He looked at Killian. "Disappear," he urged. "I'll find out what happened to your parents. I'll take care of it."

Killian's eyes darkened. "Could
you
do that? Walk away?"

"No, but I'm already fucked up. You're not."

"Are you so sure?" Killian's voice was cool, icy, and suddenly, Slade saw another side to him, a side that was just as ruthless and cold as he was. He realized suddenly that Killian was a warrior. He'd lived in the trenches, he'd battled enemies that had left him bleeding and raw, and he'd lost people who mattered. For Killian to break Slade's memory wipe meant he was powerful, almost legendary. Only the demon had been able to withstand Slade's attack. Granted, he hadn't hit Killian as hard, but it had been clean. He should not have remembered...and yet...he had.

"You need me," Killian said simply. "You can't do it alone. You know it."

Slade glanced at Anya, and then back at Killian. He'd been trying to take down these bastards his whole life, and they were smarter, faster, and better than he was. And now, they were after Anya, his brother, and Anya's best friend.

Could he really afford to work alone? He knew he couldn't. There was too much at stake. It was no longer just about him, as much as he wanted it to be. He gripped Anya's hand and met his brother's gaze. "Okay. I'm in."

A
nya paused
in the doorway of Slade's office, watching the two brothers bent over his desk, talking quietly as they watched the computer screen. They were so much alike, with their dark hair and intense eyes, the angle of their jaws, and even the lilt of their voices. Like Slade, Killian's accent had a hint of British royalty that made him fit in perfectly with the lush office with its antiques, gilded picture frames, and the ornate French doors that opened to a beautiful deck high above the city.

A wave of sadness washed over her, and she pressed her lips together, trying to fend off the sudden onslaught of emotion. Seeing Slade and Killian together made the loss of her own family even more acute. When it had just been Slade and her, she'd been able to focus on him, and keep their mission at an emotional distance. But the sight of the brothers working side by side made her miss her mom and Marjorie deeply, and it tightened the constant grip of fear in her stomach about what was happening to Julia.

She took a deep breath. Losing control wasn't going to help her find Julia. She had to stay focused, and these brothers were her only chance. Instead of letting the grief consume her, she made herself concentrate on the men. They exuded confidence and competence. Their voices were low and deep, settling inside her like a solid weight, anchoring her. They were in deep conversation, but their stances were relaxed, like wild cats patiently waiting for their prey to step too close.

Slade had put on a soft tee shirt and jeans, but he was barefoot, as was Killian. Both men were so at ease in their skin, it was easy to see them as the leopards they were. A whisper of jealousy flickered through her, and she wondered what it would be like to embrace who she truly was instead of hiding it. When she'd seen Slade as a leopard, she'd been too scared about his immobility to register the fact he was a leopard. But now, as she watched him talk and move, she could almost see the leopard beneath his skin. He was pure muscle and power, moving with effortless efficiency.

Slade glanced up, and he smiled when he saw her, a quick, private smile that made her stomach turn over. "You okay?"

She nodded, and walked in. She'd showered and grabbed a bite to eat, taking advantage of Killian's need to run a computer search on the license plates. Slade's bathroom was imported marble, with etched glass doors that were truly beautiful. Every inch of his home was pure elegance and luxury, and yet there he stood, in bare feet and a tee shirt, his muscles rippling like the wild animal that lived inside him, a predator that would thrive in the wild, not behind closed doors and windows. "What did you guys find?"

Slade held out his hand to her. Surprised, she took it, and let him pull her around the desk. He tucked her in front of him, and leaned over her shoulder, his breath warm and tantalizing against her cheek, as he pointed to the screen. "All the cars are registered to dummy corporations," he said. "They're not traceable."

Her heart sank. "Really?" She'd been so sure that between Killian and Slade, they would find answers. "So, we don't know anything more? Nothing about Julia?" She bit her lip, blinking back tears as the reality of their situation returned with brutality.

"No. But look." Slade punched a few buttons on the computer, and the screen shifted to six distinct video feeds. She stiffened when she saw the demon that had attacked her standing still, staring directly up into the camera. "Where is that?"

"Outside my building."

She went cold. "He found us?"

"So did they." Killian indicated the bottom right corner, and Anya saw two black SUVs parked. The doors opened and armed men got out, carrying what looked like machine guns and dart guns.

She sank back against Slade, fear gripping her. "Is that outside this building as well?"

"Yeah." Slade's voice was grim. "They can't see the building unless I'm in their head showing it to them, but they clearly know it's here. They're too close. No one has ever gotten this close." He switched to another camera angle, showing two more sets of armed men standing in the street. "They're on all sides. They know it's here, but they can't find it."

Anya and Killian exchanged glances, and all three of them knew the truth. Anya and Killian's presence was not as easy to hide as Slade's was. Their visibility in his life had compromised the safety of his home, stealing from him the one oasis he had. "So, what now?"

"We hunt." Slade's voice was cold, ice cold, that of a killer. A chill gripped Anya's spine, and she knew she was seeing the Black Swan come to life. She'd gotten used to thinking of Slade as her guardian and protector, but now, she could see him as the assassin who had silently, and mercilessly, killed so many.

"Hunt?" Killian's eyes gleamed with a feral hunger that made even more chills race down Anya's back. Two brothers of the same kind. How different
was
Killian from Slade? Had he lived a life of killing, too? Or was killing something that had been born into their makeup, something that didn't depend on the childhood they'd been blessed or cursed with.

"I'm in," he said. "I have supplies in the car. I'll be back in a minute." He saluted Slade then strode out of the room, moving with the same lethal grace that Slade always moved with.

The moment he was gone, Slade turned his back on her and walked to the window. He gripped the frame, staring out at the city. His muscles were taut, and his jaw was tight.

"Everything okay?" Even as she asked it, she knew it was a stupid question. Nothing was okay. But she'd asked the question, because she'd wanted Slade to reassure her that everything was fine, that this was a piece of cake for him.

"No." He turned to face her, his eyes dark. "I was pulled from death's door for this. I know that I'm the right one for the job, because of my background with the shifter market. But what is so important about
you
that made someone wield a tremendous amount of power to bring me back from the dead to do it? What am I not seeing that I should?"

He walked over to her and ran his hands down her arms, providing both warmth and a shot of hot energy. She knew her leopard was responding to his, wanting to rise up to meet him. "Who
are
you, Anya?"

She shook her head. "I'm just me—"

"No, you're not." He nudged her foot with his toe. "I think it's time to take that rune off and see who you really are."

"What? No!" She backed up, fear rippling through her. Her mother had given her life to hide her. It was one thing to disregard her mother's commands to run if someone found them so that she could find Julia. It was another to shift. If she shifted, she would be exposed. Not even Julia knew whether she could shift, or that she was a white leopard. "Never."

Slade watched her, but made no move to stop her. Why would he bother to stop her ineffective retreat across his office? He was so much faster than she was, she had no hope of escaping him. Instead of coming after her, he simply studied her. "I need to understand what is so important about you."

She pulled her shoulders back. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is Julia."

"No, that's not all that matters." He leaned on the desk. "My entire life is completely screwed up right now because of you. If it hadn't been for you, my brother wouldn't be here. He wouldn't have gotten sucked into my life. The man who killed my family wouldn't have shot me with a dart. My enemies wouldn't be standing outside my house, waiting for me to step outside."

She glared at him. "Do you want to go back to being alone? Is that what you want? To forget about your brother? About me? Isn't there anything good about what has happened to you?"

"Yes!" He slammed his hands down on the desk, making her jump. "Don't you understand, Anya? Everything is good. I loved having you in my bed. It's the best gift of my damned life to be having a conversation with my brother. My house feels different with you both in it, and I like it." He shoved the heavy desk aside, sending it crashing against the wall with frightening ease. He strode across the room and caught her wrist, yanking her against him before she could step away. "And you know what that means?" he asked. "Do you understand?" He gripped the back of her hair, his fingers holding tightly, almost painfully, but she wasn't afraid of him.

She knew he'd never hurt her. Ever. "Do I understand what? That you're not alone anymore? I'm sorry, Slade, but I think that's a good thing."

"No, it's not." He softened his grip on her hair. "It means that it's just a matter of time until the day I walk in and find out you're dead." His voice became low, twisted with emotion so awful that she couldn't breathe. "Everyone I've ever loved has been brutally murdered.
Everyone.
Same with my brother. It's happening again, Anya. It's happening all over again. You. Killian. The men outside my place. It's all going to happen again." He dropped to his knees, grabbed her hips, and pulled her against him, staring up at her. "I can't go through this again. It will break me if you die."

She swallowed, stunned by the raw anguish raking across his features. She slid her fingers through his hair. "Oh, Slade," she whispered, her heart breaking for the depth of his pain. This was the man who'd been so cold the day they'd met? She could almost hear the fragments of his soul shattering. She had no words to ease his pain, because his anguish pierced her own heart, releasing her grief over her mother's murder, and her own shock at the idea of anything happening to Slade.

"
Anya.
" He rose to his feet and slammed his mouth down upon hers, a brutal, angry kiss that tore at her heart. It wasn't the kiss of a man trying to seduce. It was the kiss of a man trying to run from a ghost so overpowering that there was no escape. His anguish tore into her, shattering the shields she'd built so carefully around her own heart. Grief rocked her, the grief of her mother's murder, of Marjorie's, of losing Julia. Her terror at what was happening to her best friend right at that moment. The loss of a home, of love, of everything that mattered.

Desperate, she clung to him, his strong frame the only solid thing in her life. With a low growl, he tore off her pants, extending a long, clawed nail just long enough to rip her pants in two. He dropped his own pants and then lifted her up against the bookcase filled with antique, gold-inlay hardcovers.

He dragged her legs around his hips and then drove into her, a fierce, merciless penetration that flayed her heart open with each thrust. His pain was so raw and ragged, almost suffocating her, mingling with her own pain until she couldn't tell where his ended and hers began. Again and again he thrust. Books fell off the shelves, thudding to the floor as she clung to him, tears streaming down her cheeks as she surrendered the pain that she'd fought off for so long, losing herself in the man whose arms were holding her so tightly. His torment was immense, almost inconceivable, tangled with the death of his family, and all the other ones he'd caused. His life, spinning through her, memories of all the people he'd killed, of being so hard that he felt nothing when he left his victims behind…pain that he now felt. Every death he'd caused was slicing through him, dragging him into the anguish he'd shielded himself against for so long. All of that, pouring through him, alive and gripping him, crushing him beneath the onslaught of the horror.

He bellowed her name, an anguished cry of a soul shattering beneath a weight too great to endure, then his body convulsed. His orgasm triggered hers, and she bucked against him, her own body barely holding together under the sheer force of it. On and on it went, as if it were trying to keep them from landing amidst the black puddles of their grief and fear.

But eventually, cruelly, finally, the orgasm released them. Slade sagged against her, his hands gripping the shelf by her head. She leaned against his chest, trying to catch her breath. Sweat trickled down her back, and both of them were slick with perspiration.

She could barely breathe through the weight of his anguish. This ice-cold assassin who'd been so reserved and contained when she'd met him was bleeding from his soul now, an anguished torrent of pain, guilt, and fear. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tightened her legs around his hips.

He made a low groan, almost like the whimper of a dying animal, and buried his face in the crook of her neck, snaking one arm behind her back to hold her against him.

She wrapped her arms around his head, cradling him to her, as if that could somehow chase away his pain. She understood now why he'd worked so hard to maintain his isolated, reserved life. The trauma of losing his family was too great, of walking away from his brother, and of having killed so many people in his life. Every death had left an indelible mark on his soul, marks that he'd crushed mercilessly for so long, until they'd finally broken free.

"It's my fault," she whispered, unable to stop her tears from falling. "I did everything I could to make you feel again. I thought it would be better that way. I'm so sorry." How could any man survive the weight of so much loss and grief? It was beyond overwhelming. She understood now how he could have been both an assassin and still the good man she'd fallen in love with. The goodness she'd sensed was there, but he'd buried it to survive—

She realized suddenly what she'd just thought. The man she'd
fallen in love with
? Shock flooded her system. Love? Had she really fallen in love with him? A man who fought against everything she believed in? A man so beautiful that he couldn't withstand his true emotions? A brother so loyal he'd deprive himself of all that mattered to protect the one he loved?

Her chest tightened, and she knew the answer. Yes, she had fallen in love with him. Maybe it had been when she'd first seen him in the bar, and his voice had rolled through her, arrogant, demanding, and beautiful. Maybe it had been when she'd seen the stricken look on his face when she'd collapsed after their kisses in the first safe house? Maybe it had been the moment he'd told her about his brother. Maybe it was all of them combined, but it didn't really matter.

He'd won her heart, her fragile, broken heart that ached so much it hurt to love. She didn't have the strength to survive more pain, but at the same time, she didn't have the strength to reject how he made her feel, to resist what he gave her.