Her Lycan Lover (12 page)

A loud pop sounded outside. Sherry walked toward the window. Without a thought to guide him, he moved in front of her.

“Hold on,” he said harshly. The need to protect her shredded his spiraling thoughts. His spine jerked straight. His wolf instincts sharpened. This only happened when danger lurked near.

Sherry pulled back. “It’s a truck backfiring. Not an invasion from Mars.”

He gazed down at her, unsure how to handle this instinct. The hairs on his body bristled. “I’ll check.”

One part of his mind agreed. It sure as shit sounded like something ordinary. His primal instincts did not care, overrode his intellect in the strong urge to draw Sherry to him. Protect her. But from what? He moved to the window and peered outward. Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the front of the club. Two guards posted at the gate stood inside the guardhouse. A maintenance crew was washing down the parking lot. A delivery truck drove by, heading toward the front gate. She stood in back of him, so close her scent distracted him. Worse when she touched his arm and peered around his bicep.

“Are we safe from attack? It’s our bread order. I don’t think Franco would ever beat us with his baguettes.”

“Funny.” He turned around, facing her, and unable to articulate this overriding compulsion to take her with him. “You’ll be here today?”

“Yes. Why?” She arched a brow.

“We need to talk so don’t try to escape me. Do you want me to line up the replacement stud for Karpunia’s affair?” he asked, wondering how he could possibly broach the subject of his dream or these somersaulting feelings.

“I’ll take care of it. Any issues with the menu revisions? I’m meeting with Marcel and his assistant today.”

“No oysters. I know Marcel is keen on doing the half shell but the sports bar is running a special. We can’t out compete with our own restaurant. Tell him next season. Stick to something less testosterone inducing.”

“I agree, but I think he’ll get his chef’s hat in a knot,” Sherry murmured, picking up a computer tablet and flipping between documents. “Tristen is doing a sweep today of the north businesses. Anything he needs to be aware of since last night? Nothing came up on the reports this morning.”

He followed her to her desk, cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Sherry,” he breathed out, then gave in to the impulse and ran his thumb along her jaw and ended up tracing her bottom lip. “I don’t want to do something to risk our relationship. Right now, I’m sane enough to know there are rules and a girl like you adheres to a strict moral code. I’m not privy— not many are—to the structure of casters. I only know you’ve come from a line of women that don’t take lightly one of their own stepping out of bounds. There are consequences, are there not?”

“There are. And you’re right.” Her chest heaved. “I need to get my head on straight.”

“Just tell me if I’m out of line. Don’t fly off the handle and leave. Promise me. I won’t push you. I don’t want you to go out before I get back. Stay here.”

“Don’t go all soft on me.” Her wide topaz eyes gazed back at him, so defiant and stormy any second he expected hail and brimstone to spew forth. “Are you sorry we kissed? Is that why you have this pressing need to talk?”

“Strike that from your pretty head. But you and I both know the roles we play aren’t easily forgotten or put aside. Are you acquainted with the life of a Lycan?”

“Beyond the myths. Not much.”

“Another thing we can discuss besides the obvious.” He wanted to do much more and hell, court hearings or not, spellcaster and Lycan issues aside, he’d risk getting disbarred or worse to taste her sweet lips all over again. Did he need to go on and on, telling her from the top of her head to her tiny toe, he had to have her? Soon. In his bed and available for him to explore. Discover. Protect.

“I’ll be around, but I’ve got to slip out for a while. This is pure insanity today.”

He tightened his grip on her. “I’m only sorry we aren’t on our way to my house. Away from here.”

“Well, I do have my own responsibilities. I have an appointment at the bank. Counselor, if I were you, I’d get my game on. Don’t blame me if you’re stomped in Court.”

“I don’t think that will happen. And you’ll cancel that appointment and wait for me. If you need to go, I’ll take you.”

“Are you just saying this to have yet another woman under your thumb?” She turned serious. “Are you always so domineering?”

“We both know what happened between us isn’t simple lust. I’m not trying to score with you to prove a point or because it’s convenient. If anything, this union isn’t exactly easy peasy, doll. Far from it.”

It was inconceivable she was oblivious to the point of their sudden attraction. But until he knew without a doubt this wasn’t a one-sided delusion, he’d get a grip on his instinct to sequester her away from the possibility of danger lurking near. All he had to go on was instinct that seemed ready to explode into the unfurling of a razor-sharp desire designed for one purpose: as his mate, a member of the Sisterhood of spellcasters, she required his protection for some unknown reason. A protection he’d provide once they mated, releasing a chemical combustion, forever changing them both. Uniting them. Until the end. Their union meant something was coming. For her.

He noted the slight “O” her perfect mouth formed before she shook her head. “Are you always this melodramatic?” she laughed. “You almost had me.”

Sher’s cavalier attitude pushed his buttons into overdrive. “What type of caster are you? Don’t you have some ability at self-preservation? This isn’t fun and games.”

“Nor is it the second century. I’ve been alone for years and done nicely. One kiss doesn’t mean I’ve completely lost my head, Quinn.”

“No, but I need to sort out some things first.” He raked his finger through his hair. Jesus, when he thought about how he’d find the one, he always imagined she’d be a little nicer and more accepting of his generous offer to throw aside his life to follow her around night and day. This woman acted as though his concern were a hardship. “Look, just stay put. We’re going to answer some questions first. Afterwards, I think you’ll understand my position. All I want to do is get a handle on a few things.”

“I always heard that Lycans were temperamental and overbearing. You’re proving the urban myth true.”

“Hell, doll. Look around where you’re working. This is the anti-establishment for the straight and narrow. A stud club doesn’t get any more volatile. What did they teach you at spellcaster school? Didn’t they go over when a Lycan wanted to… had to—”

He didn’t know exactly what to say. Words failed him in trying to explain the act of domination he’d assert over her body. There was no way around it. It was the way a Lycan bonded with his
mate.
He gritted his teeth. If it were true and Sherry was his mate, his craving to make love to her would override all other needs until they were fully bonded. The union of Lycan to spellcaster lasted days in which they would forge unbreakable bonds one to the other. Just thinking about the possibility with surety rocked the axis of his world.

“Not exactly. I doubt you’re my Lycan. You don’t seriously believe you’re
my guardian
? I’m hardly in need. Wouldn’t you say? Lycans are paired with powerful casters. Not one neck deep in financial reports.”

Quinn wanted to growl in frustration. “Jesus, I don’t know for certain. This is part of the shifter’s primal nature to perceive. No way to subdue. Sure, maybe I’m offtrack. But until we know, you will stay here.”

“You’re short on the whole story and pending proof, can you withhold your sentence? You might have the flu or some crazy hangover.”

“This morning I wasn’t drunk in my office. If I was, the effects would still be evident. I’m not delusional either. But every night, I swear, Sher. We just need to talk. I’m probably way off base, but I doubt it. I need some answers and you will help.”

Her head snapped up and her brows knitted together. “Answers. To what? Caster issues?”

“Things,” he said. “Look, I won’t press having dinner, but this afternoon we’ll talk and figure this thing out. We can go to that coffee shop you like around the corner. I know they serve Pablo’s.”

She laughed. “That’s where I picked up my Danger Monkey mugs. Okay. Fine, I’m not above caffeine bribery.”

“I’ll pick you up. Otherwise, I can only begin imagining what type of powers you possess, with your ability to travel. Wormholes? Christ, Sherry. Should I alert the conjurer authorities?” he mocked.

“That isn’t necessary. I’m well-versed in the dynamics of transmutation. Don’t even insinuate such a thing.” She crossed herself in some unusual hand signals and he remembered seeing a slender chain and pentagram tease a path above her magnificent breasts.

The moment after Quinn left and the door to her office closed, Sherry sunk down into her cushy leather chair. Her trembling legs refused to hold her up any longer. “Shite,” she exhaled. “Shite. Shite. Bloody shite.”

She had tried to play it off, acting as though everything Quinn had said meant nothing. For once, he’d stumbled swathed in his debonair masculine persona, and she didn’t help matters by feigning ignorance to the threat of imminent danger.

Of course she was acquainted with the ginormous reason behind a Lycan guardian showing up out of the blue. Far from anything the typical spellcaster welcomed. Ludicrous in how the scales of justice were balanced. On one side, menacing danger lurked oh, somewhere near. Countered by a hawt—hot Lycan ready to sexually slay her. Golly, what a freaking situation.

Without her damn permission, her world had changed. Remarkable. In all her dreams, not once did she imagine her guardian to be a sports car driving Broncos fanatic. A regular player. A Lycan who wore designer suits and spoke in such a way that would make the devil blush with shame. She’d need a guardian to protect from her own guardian. Quinnlan Rothschild had no business in the role of protector to a single woman.

Her heartbeat thudded rapidly. The sensations he’d stirred up were still swirling around. Deep in contemplation, when her phone rang she jumped. Picking it up, she hurried to catch the call and answered, “The Den. This is Sherry.”

“Miss Delacroix, hold for the High Priestess.”

“Excuse me.” Sherry took the phone away from her ear and peered at the phone. A photograph of the high Priestess’s pink and gold rose icon blazed on the smartphone’s screen.

“Sherry,” a high pitched voice rang out. “How are you, darling?”

Quickly, she put the phone up to her ear. “Your grace, I’m fine. Busy.”

“Yes. That’s why I’ve rung. Now dear, I want you to think and be absolutely sure when you answer. By chance were you teleporting without clearance? This morning I do mean.”

Sherry stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t against any ordinances.

“Yes,” she simply said.

“And how’d that go?” The Priestess never at a loss for stringing out the inevitable went on. “Did you perceive any gaps in the boundaries? We can have a crew arrange to patch any ripples.”

“No, nothing out of the ordinary. I found one and made some repairs.”

“Any other occurrences? I mean anything you’d like to report.”

“Well, I helped a small child.”

“Say again. Small child?”

Sherry raised her voice. “I said, I helped a small child… find his parents.”

“Mmm. And how’d you do that?”

She recounted the incident to the High Priestess while sitting on the edge of her seat. “It happened once. I didn’t think it would be a huge matter.”

“Sherry, the fates don’t take kindly to our interference. But you are well-informed in them aren’t you?”

“I...” There was no point in arguing. “Right.”

“We’ve a kettle of fish brewing. Seems that being you helped wasn’t a child. It was a
skirmeter
.”

“I don’t know what that is?”

“A skirmeter’s sole purpose is to seek a foothold for Dark Fae to gain crossing. They work with the Fae but have no real power other than assuming shapes of other beings. And then only briefly. We had several skirmeters approach the sisters yesterday at the same time. You’re not the only one, dear. But with so many breaches all at the same point, a ripple has indeed taken place. We are working to regain the strength of the boundaries. For now, you must report any change you detect. And I do mean any and all. No matter how slight. ”

She swallowed. Did that mean Quinn? The kiss they’d shared. Was he a skirmeter or had he spoken in truth? Lycan. A protector. Yet still he was part Sidhe. Bred to be an elite hunter. A fighter that refused to back down. She’d shown him her mark yet he’d not given her anything of proof other than his ability to seduce her at will. “I think there’s more going on here in LoDo.”

“How so?” The High Priestess inquired.

“My protector has made himself known.”

“What? To you? How?”

“We work together. For two years and nothing. This morning, it was all different.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I kissed him. Quinn Rothschild, IV.”

A gasp and silence. For several moments. “And you’re certain he’s the one?” the Priestess’s voice shook.

“I can’t say. I’ve no comparison.”

“Oh, please. You work at a sex club.” A shrill laugh echoed on the phone. “You of all people should know they are not trustworthy. But believe me, he’s the least of your problems. If a half-breed Sidhe can’t ignore his duty to guard you, it means you’re in danger. I’d focus on what’s important. Eternity or lust. And I don’t have to remind you that because of your family history, you’re on probation.”