Rebel's Desire (Iron Portal Paranormal Romance Series) (Iron Portal Series Book 4) (6 page)

When they got to the shop, shards of glass covered the pavement, glittering like raindrops in the moonlight. A black hole gaped in the window, obliterating the name of the shop that was painted on the glass—Sisters something. A broom lay on the sidewalk, as if someone had tried to sweep up the mess, then changed their mind.

Keely gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth.

Toryn drew his blade. The window above the door had been broken as well. The point of entry. The latch on the worn brass door handle pressed easily. The door was unlocked.

“Stay out here,” he ordered. Without waiting for her response, he pushed it open.

The small bell overhead chimed out a misplaced cheery welcome. He stepped over the threshold and into the darkened shop.

Even without lights, he could tell the place had been vandalized. Books and loose papers were strewn over the floor, shelves were tipped over, and tiny bottles that held oils and lotions were scattered everywhere.

“Oh my God,” Keely said from right behind him. “My books.”

Toryn sighed. He hadn’t really expected that she’d wait outside for him, but it was worth a try.

“Stay put. I’ll check the rest of the place.” He did a quick but thorough search of the premises, including the small apartment upstairs. No one else was here, and there didn’t appear to be any other damage.

When he returned to the main floor, Keely was struggling to raise an overturned bookshelf.

“The place is clear,” he said, rushing to help her. “Looks like this is the extent of it.”

She ducked her head away from him, swiping a hand hurriedly over her cheek. “Thank you, Toryn.”

He started to reach out to her again but then thought better of it. He couldn’t let himself get emotionally attached to her any more than he already was, but before he could pull back, she touched his hand lightly. A soft, feathery touch, like a butterfly.

Damn.

“I…I don’t know what I would’ve done without you,” she said, chewing on her lower lip, probably to keep it from trembling. “I can’t imagine coming back to this…alone. The last time it happened, Becca was here.”

His eyes narrowed. “This has happened before?”

She nodded. “A few times. We’re prime fodder for the more militant protesters given who our father is and that we used to be on their side. So in a way, I guess we deserve this.”

She’d mentioned that her father was a minister with a popular online show whose Internet ratings brought in lots of ad revenue. Toryn nodded, even though he didn’t understand much. He came from a world with castles, warriors and horses, not computers, electricity and cars. About the only thing he understood was that her father was a powerful religious man.

“You were a kid when you protested with him,” he said brusquely. “I hardly call that being deserving of this kind of retaliation.”

She didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know, Toryn. I’m not sure that I would’ve changed my mindset about Talents if I hadn’t become one. I had a really hard time accepting the fact that I was a freak. I’d—”

“You’re not a freak, Kitten,” he said softly. Her gaze flashed to his as if she were trying to decide whether to believe him. “You’re not.”

She swallowed, looked down at her hands. “I became the very thing that I grew up despising. Both of us did. I don’t know what I would’ve done without Becca. I’m not sure I could’ve gone on without her.”

He exhaled slowly. The world wouldn’t have been the same without Keely in it.

Despite Keely believing this was the work of protesters, he wasn’t so sure. Not with the timing of what happened to her sister. He’d be willing to bet that Reaux was behind it somehow. In his experience, the power hungry would often do things to demonstrate their might and rattle their sabers.

He didn’t want to think of what would’ve happened had she been alone and come upon the bastards while they were still here, but from now on, he’d do everything in his power to keep her safe.

While she gathered up papers and re-shelved books, he boarded up the windows with some plywood he found in the alley.

“So the name of your shop is Sisters Books and…what?”

“Books and Fortunes. Although the fortunes part is more marketing than anything else.”

He quirked a brow. “How so?”

“Becca and I don’t actually read fortunes. It’s more like making thought suggestions, although to be honest with you, she’s much better at it than I am.”

“When you’re done, maybe you can show me. Give me a demonstration.”

She laughed and said she’d love to.

After he finished hammering the last nail, he stood back to check his handiwork. “That should hold for now.”

“I can’t thank you enough for your help,” she said as she rested her hands on top of the broom. “This would’ve taken me all night by myself.”

The place wasn’t completely put back together, but at least it was better than it had been. He brushed his thumb over a smudge on her cheek. “No thanks necessary, Kitten. I was happy to do it.”

They exchanged another heated glance and he felt himself getting hard.

“Is there somewhere you can stay until the windows are replaced?” The words came out low and raspy. “A friend? A relative, maybe?”

Shaking her head, she stepped away from him and straightened a few items on a nearby counter. “No, there’s just Becca and me. I’ll be fine though.”

He thought about this latest Iron Guild mission and how he’d considered using Keely to get to Reaux. The thought disgusted him now. She was an innocent young woman who didn’t deserve to be thrust into danger like that. He’d figure out another way to take the bastard down.

Up until now, his hatred of Reaux had been strictly professional. The man was a threat to the Cascadian people and it was Toryn’s duty as an Iron Guild warrior to neutralize that threat.

But that was before he met Keely. Now, it felt personal.

“Then I will stay here with you until it is fixed.”

“
C
an
I get you something to drink?” she asked, handing him a pillow and blanket. They didn’t have a spare room, so the couch in the reading nook in the back of the shop would have to suffice. His large, imposing frame seemed to fill the entire space. How would she be able to sleep knowing he was on the floor below her?

Grinning as if he knew what she’d been thinking, he settled down on the sofa and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Got any Irish whiskey? The good stuff?”

“Darn. I’m afraid I’m fresh out. I do have some top-shelf wine, though.”

“Excellent.”

She returned a few minutes later with two mismatched wine glasses and a bottle of strawberry wine.

She unscrewed the top, poured him a glass, and when she handed it to him, her fingers accidentally brushed his. The echo of his touch shot up her arms and gave her goose bumps just like it had before.

She took a seat next to him on the couch, trying as hard as she could not to snicker like a twelve-year-old boy with a whoopee cushion. Surely he knew that this wine was as cheap as they came, didn’t he?

Without a whiff or a swirl, he knocked back the entire thing in one gulp.

“Bloody hell,” he sputtered, putting the empty glass on the library table beside him. “That stuff is awful.”

She laughed at his reaction—just what she’d hoped it would be—and took a sip. It wasn’t
that
bad. “A little sweet maybe,” she admitted. “It’s Becca’s.”

A knot of worry twisted in her stomach again at the thought of her sister. She hoped nothing happened between now and tomorrow to prevent her from coming home. Then, all Keely had to do was convince her not to go back. They could move away. Start up fresh somewhere else, somewhere far away from Davin Reaux. She’d heard that things were better for Talents down in Portland, and she’d always liked it there anyway.

As if sensing her tension, Toryn took her glass, set it next to his, and motioned for her to turn so he could massage her shoulders.

He lifted her hair aside and placed his hands on her skin.

Mmmm
.

They were warm, heavy and strong. She closed her eyes and focused on his deft fingers kneading her tight muscles. Inch by inch, the tension from the past few days began melting away.

It felt good being with him like this. Safe. Relaxing.

“So what do you do, Toryn?” she murmured, her eyes still closed. “Other than rescuing women and doing minor construction projects.”

“For one thing, I didn’t rescue you.” His tone sent delicious shivers down her spine. “You did that all on your own. I was just the lucky fellow who happened to be at the right place at the right time for that kiss.”

Lucky was right, but she was the one who was lucky. Her face heated at the memory of that amazing kiss, and she wondered if a second one would be as electrifying as the first. She had a pretty good idea that it would be.

She coughed awkwardly. “So what were you doing when I…uh…ran into you?”

It took a moment for him to answer, as if he were trying to decide what to tell her. “My associates and I were trying to figure out a way to infiltrate Reaux’s network. He’s a hard bloke to track down. And then there’s the matter of those bloody Psychic-Talents.”

“Your
associates
?” she asked.

Again, he hesitated. She was going to ask if he was in law enforcement, but then she remembered how he’d acted in the alley. It had been very clear to her that he hadn’t wanted to speak with the Night Patrol.

Her shoulders tightened beneath his strong, steady grip. He wasn’t talking about organized crime associates, was he?

“So what’s
your
issue with Mr. Reaux, since we seem to have that in common?”

“All I can tell you is that I’m part of a group trying to prevent him from hurting and taking advantage of innocent people. He and others like him commit all kinds of atrocities. We’re trying to put a stop to it.”

So he wasn’t in some rival faction vying for the same turf, she thought with relief. As far as she was concerned, anyone trying to keep Mr. Reaux from doing any more harm was one of the good guys. But a group that operates outside the scope of the authorities…?

“You mean like mercenaries?”

“Yes.” The finality in his tone told her he was done discussing the subject.

He continued massaging her neck and shoulders, finding the knots and working them out. Jeez, it felt good. Too good, she thought as she imagined his hands on other parts of her body.

“You’re not put off by someone with a Talent,” she said. “Why is that? Does that mean
you
have one?”

His hands stilled on her shoulders. She started to crane her neck around to see his expression, but he pointed to a bookshelf in front of her. A book moved. And then another.

She jumped. “Oh my God, you did that? That is so cool!” She twisted around, looking up into his magnetic gray eyes. “Why didn’t you do that earlier when we were cleaning up?”

A corner of his mouth turned up. “I didn’t want to freak you out. Plus, I try not to use it too much. I’m sure you understand.”

Yes. She knew exactly what he meant.

“Speaking of Talents…” Something glinted in his eye. “Say I'm a customer in your shop. I come back here, sit down and—” He held out his hands. “Do you read my palm? My tea leaves?”

“Not exactly.” She shifted and took his hand, flattening out his long, calloused fingers. “Please keep in mind that I’m not that good.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

“Okay,” she said with a smile. She thought for a moment, then tilted her head and concentrated, feeling the energy sizzling down her arm.

His brows knit together, then he burst into laughter, a deep rumbling sound that had her laughing as well. “Did you just implant the thought that I want a brownie?”

“Yep.”

“I thought so. I can practically smell it.” He let out a low whistle. “Ye could play some mean-ass practical jokes on folks.”

“Well, I can't do anything beyond simple suggestions of things that already appeal to you. Unlike Becca, who can get people to imagine all sorts of things. That's how our parents found out about us, actually.” She paused, thinking back to that horrible time. “We were at a youth retreat up in the San Juans with some high school friends. There was alcohol. Becca and I— Well, it was my stupid idea. We ended up doing some things we shouldn't have, which exposed both of us.”

She let out a controlled breath. What a nightmare it had been. The fights, the yelling. The therapy. As if being a Talent meant you had mental issues.

He slipped his fingers between hers and caressed her knuckles with his thumbs. There he was again. Sensing her stress and doing something to alleviate it. His touch was simple yet extremely intimate, and it sent molten heat straight to her core.

She bit her lip, trying to quell the need rising in her body.

He continued to stroke the delicate skin on the back of her hands. “So the question is, do you have any brownies? For some crazy reason, I’ve got a craving for them.”

She smiled sheepishly. “I’m afraid not.”

“Seriously?” He pulled her onto his lap, and she let out a surprised laugh. With her hands resting on his shoulders, she was sitting eye to eye with him. And straddling his legs.

His broad hands splayed over the curve of her hips, and something devious lit up behind his eyes. It both thrilled and excited her, and she found herself wanting to see just how naughty he could be.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, as if he had read her thoughts. “You have the nerve to implant a brownie craving into my head, but you don’t have any?”

“I might have some chocolate chips.” Lame, yes, but she wanted to come up short, just to get his reaction.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked with mock outrage.

“Why? Are you frustrated now?”

“Very frustrated. And it’s completely your fault.”

She had her hands on his shoulders, breasts not far from his face as she waited in anticipation.

“And now, Kitten, I’m afraid you must pay the price.”

He gripped her hipbones in her most ticklish spot and dug in his thumbs. Shrieking with laughter, she tried to push away from him. She bucked her hips and arched her back, but he was too strong and too determined to keep her right were she was.

Which, if she were being honest with herself, was exactly what she wanted. She was wildly attracted to his man.

When she felt the steel rod of his erection pressing up against her core, he stopped tickling her.

They were both breathing hard. Some of his raven hair had slipped from the knot at his nape, and dark need reflected in his eyes. She imagined she had the same look in her eyes. She wanted him. So damn bad.

He possessively gripped the back of her neck and brazenly ran his other hand over her breast, sending shivers down her spine.

His nostrils flared slightly. “Ye’ve been a very bad girl.”