Page 9

Chapter Nine

Amelia continued to back up, praying Taggert would lose interest in her and go away. She doubted that would happen. The best she could hope for was that Andie was far enough away to avoid being harmed by the man or seeing anything she shouldn’t.

Taggert grinned. “Amelia, we both know who will need to sweep up the mess this supposed Bringer leaves behind when he goes. You’re beautiful, but let’s be honest, you’re weak. For being the daughter of a great man, you have no gifts. Neither does your sister. Do you think this man Cal is so stuck on is going to want a woman who is basically human?”

Her gaze flickered. She hoped the guy didn’t want her. That he took one look at her and did a hard pass. Let them all think she was defenseless. That she was nothing more than human. Underestimating her was the best thing. If her father or the others learned the true extent of her gifts, they’d find a way to exploit them. To twist them and use them for evil. And there was no way Amelia was permitting Andie’s gifts to be exploited.

“I see the way you watch me,” he said. “You couldn’t take your eyes off me the other day when Susan was showing you how to give a massage—and other things.”

The only thing she ever watched him with was disdain. She hated him and everything about him. His cruelty knew no limits and she’d long since given up hope the man had any redeeming qualities.

He didn’t.

Taggert eyed the river and then her. “Planning to try to swim away from me? You should know, that won’t work. You can’t outrun me. You know it; so do I. In fact, your days of running from me are nearly over. Cal’s protection will end the second he realizes you can’t give him what he wants—the Bringer. I saw the look in your eyes during your training sessions. You don’t have it in you to lure a man into the fold.”

She stepped into the water, trying to back away from him more.

He followed, his hand coming to her cheek.

She recoiled at the feel of his fingertips on her skin. Straightaway, she was hit with what felt like snakes slithering along her skin. She hated snakes. They were often used in Cal’s ritual ceremonies and they had always scared her. Taggert’s touch always made her feel as if creepy-crawlies were on her.

She glared at him.

His gaze narrowed. In the next breath, he snatched hold of her hair with his other hand, wrenching her closer. He inhaled deeply, his eyes filling with flecks of amber. That meant the wolf he carried in him was nearing the surface.

Taggert was deadly enough all on his own. Adding in the fact he was a shifter who could also wield magik made him the ultimate threat. One that, if she dared attempt to stand against it, could cause everything she’d worked so hard for to unravel.

But letting him do what he intended wasn’t an option, either.

Amelia pushed on his chest, knowing if she dared to use her gifts on him, her plan wouldn’t work.

“Let go of me,” she breathed out, wanting to strike back but resisting.

Taggert grinned and licked her cheek. “Make me.”

She shoved at him, to no avail.

All she managed to do was amuse him.

He yanked harder on her hair, forcing her head back more. He then shoved his face into the crook of her neck, licking the vulnerable area. If he so chose, he could bite her throat out with ease. Her only saving grace was that she knew he wanted her in a carnal way. If she was dead, that couldn’t happen. And if he dared to kill her, Cal would unleash hell upon him.

She pushed at his face, trying to get his mouth away from her neck, before raking her nails down his cheek.

Hissing, he released her hair so fast that she fell to the ground. Taggert stepped over her, eclipsing the sun behind him, fury lighting his eyes as they swirled with amber. He ran his fingers over his cheek, coming away with blood. In the blink of an eye, the wounds on his face healed over. Proof of how powerful he was.

“Cal is not here to save you from me this time, Amelia,” he said, his voice so cold that it actually made her shiver. It didn’t matter that the day was warmer than normal for the time of year.

She held up an arm in an attempt to protect herself.

He batted it away and pain shot through it.

Recoiling, Amelia held her arm to her chest, blinking back tears. She didn’t want to give the sick bastard the satisfaction of knowing just how much he’d hurt her. He got off on pain. It would only turn him on more.

“What’s the matter, Amelia? Run out of places to hide from me? Missing a hero to save you?” he asked, reaching down for her.

Growls that didn’t come from Taggert filled the area.

Suddenly, someone grabbed Taggert’s wrist and jerked him back from her.

At first, she assumed that someone was Cal or one of the other men who worked on the staff. When she saw it was a stranger, anxiety for the newcomer ran over her.

Even more than that, she was instantly reminded of the strange dream she’d had. The one where she’d been running with a man who was holding her hand. A man she’d been positive she’d been intimate with and felt something for. This man, from behind, looked just like the one in her dream—that was, if he had scars on his back without his shirt on.

It took Amelia a moment to remember she’d put up a wall of power around the area, to keep her sister out and protected. Something Taggert wouldn’t have been able to sense on his own, but something the newcomer would have had to pass through to get to her.

That didn’t mean he could hold his own against the likes of Taggert.

While she didn’t know the man, she felt the strongest urge to keep him safe. More than her inborn need to keep all innocents from harm. This ran deeper. Much, much deeper.

It was primal.

Raw.

And real.

The man pushed Taggert back from Amelia and then stood tall in front of her, forming a wall of muscle. An imposing sight indeed. His presence blocked Taggert from being able to get to her with any sort of ease, but it also left the new arrival vulnerable. Taggert wasn’t the type of man to back down from a perceived challenge. It was in his alpha-male nature to take on anything and anyone he saw as threatening him. The only other male she’d ever seen him back down from was her father. Taggert was wise to fear Cal. He could kill with the blink of an eye if he truly wanted to.

The good Samaritan was going to get himself killed trying to be chivalrous. As much as Amelia didn’t want to be alone with Taggert, she didn’t want anyone hurt on her account.

“Move,” snarled Taggert to the man.

“I do nae think I will,” said the man before Amelia, his Scottish brogue evident and thick.

The sound of his deep voice eased over Amelia, seeming to caress her in places no other had touched before.

The glaring sun made it difficult for Amelia to make out much about the man beyond the fact he was tall and lean, but not too skinny—perfectly proportioned, actually. He was well-muscled, but not too bulky, either.

Just right.

And he smelled amazing. Like mint and rosemary. Both things she very much liked.

“This is none of your business,” said Taggert. “And you really don’t want to piss me off, buddy.”

The man before her snorted. “I’m nae yer buddy, and I’m fine with pissin’ you off.”

Amelia’s lips pulled upward, wanting to form a full-on smile at the man’s gumption. He was either very brave or incredibly stupid. She wasn’t sure which and didn’t want to find out. Already the situation had escalated. She didn’t want it to go further.

Growling, Taggert stepped back, but not to retreat. From what Amelia could see, it was to do something that shocked her—partially shift forms in front of a non-Flock member.

Revealing yourself to anyone outside of the Flock was one of Cal’s cardinal rules. You simply did not do it. Not if you wanted to live to tell the tale to others.

Taggert in regular human form was an imposing sight, with his height and build. But the man before her rivaled him in more ways than one. He held his ground, crouching slightly and growling as well, though his was deeper and more threatening than Taggert’s had been.

There was no mistaking the sound. He too was a shifter. That did level the playing field somewhat, but not enough for Amelia to feel right letting the stranger help.

No one else would be caught in the crossfire if she could help it.

Amelia came just shy of touching the man’s back. The urge to make contact with him was nearly all-consuming. That in itself was alarming.

Never before had she felt such longing.

Such a demanding desire.

Somehow, she managed to avoid touching him. Instead, her gaze moved down to his backside, and she swallowed hard. His butt was amazing, and the jeans he was in cupped it just right. She spent her life around hot men. Supernaturals didn’t really come in any other form, but this one shamed the rest of them, making them seem like ugly ducklings, and she’d not even seen his face yet. From behind he seemed to have broken the mold.

It was hard to focus on the fact there was a serious threat at hand.

Threat.

Yes.

Concentrate.

She stared harder at the man’s backside.

Not on that!

Taggert growled once more, and Amelia pulled herself together. She rushed around in front of the Scottish do-gooder and put her hands out, blocking Taggert from getting to the man.

“No,” she said, her shoulders going back, her stance rigid. “Don’t.”

With nostrils flaring, Taggert glared past her. His gaze was nothing short of murderous. He had the juice to back his unspoken threat. That scared her. She didn’t want anyone hurt on her account.

“Move, Amelia,” said Taggert.

She shook her head. “No. I won’t.”

“Who are you and what are you doing out here?” demanded Taggert of the man.

“I’d worry less about me and more about you,” said the other man, as if he didn’t have a care in the world and wasn’t facing down a dangerous alpha-male shifter. “If I ever see you raising yer hand to the lass again, I’ll rip it off and feed it to you. Am I clear?”

Amelia reached behind her with the intent of pushing the man farther back from Taggert’s reach. Her hand found the man’s steely thigh, and she nearly moaned as heat flared up her arm. The heat centered in her chest to start before sliding lower, making her acutely aware of her female anatomy.

If the man’s voice didn’t make her melt into a puddle of want, touching him would.

The man put his hand over hers, his fingers caressing hers ever so gently, keeping her hand to his leg. The heat continued to build, and she wondered what was causing it because it wasn’t natural.

Still, she wanted more.

Much, much more.

She found herself stepping back, pressing her entire body to the man’s. She wanted to rub herself all over him.

Sliding his arms around her waist, he moved her behind him in one quick, swift movement, ignoring her gasp of protest and shock.

He put his arms out then, his hands at his sides, claws showing from his fingertips. “Leave here now. Last warning,” he ground out in Taggert’s direction.

Taggert took a deep breath, additional flecks of amber filling his gaze. “Mating energy?”

Amelia watched in stunned horror as Taggert drew upon his powers. She’d seen him do so enough times in the past to recognize the signs. The change in temperature around him, the oppressive feeling of static in the air, and the way he moved his fingers in a sweeping gesture, despite his hands being partially shifted. It was as if he was playing an invisible piano, the keys the elements, the song deadly.

The air around them thickened and the sky above them darkened. Lightning crackled and thunder rolled. It went from being broad daylight to night in seconds.

“She is mine,” growled out Taggert.

“Taggert, no!” she pleaded, trying but failing to get around the Scottish guy. Not only was he making her body react in ways it never had before, he was apparently made of concrete, because she couldn’t budge him.

He kept his arms out wide and laughed as he glanced upward. “I’ll turn that dark magik back on you so fast, you won’t know what hit you. Yer nae the only shifter here who can do such things. Want to see which of us is stronger? I know I do. And I do nae believe the lass is yers. She does nae seem to care much for you. I cannae blame her. I’ve known you five minutes and I do nae like you one bit.”

Taggert stiffened and locked gazes with Amelia before standing down—something she wasn’t accustomed to seeing him do. The sky cleared, and the pending storm vanished without a trace. Once again, the sun shone bright and birds even began to chirp.

Crisis averted.

For now.

Deep down she knew it was far from over.

Taggert never backed down from a fight.

Ever.

Exhaling, Amelia touched Hot Guy’s back and rubbed it absently, thankful he hadn’t been hurt in any way in the altercation.

The man’s claws receded, and he eased her away from Taggert’s reach. Once he had her a decent distance from the other male, he turned to her, boldly putting his back to Taggert. It was a major slap in the face to the other shifter. It said Hot Guy wasn’t afraid of him.

While she wasn’t a shifter herself, she was a combination of many things, but nothing anyone could exactly label. She did know enough about shifter politics to know Hot Guy’s move was a massive insult to Taggert. And she knew Taggert well enough to know he’d retaliate at some point. He wouldn’t let the challenge go unanswered. It was against his alpha nature.

“Lass, are you all right?” asked Hot Guy, searching her for signs of injury.

She stood perfectly still, unable to answer him as she soaked in the sight of him up close and personal. She’d thought the man was hot before. Up close, he was downright spectacular.

The man’s long black hair hung past his broad shoulders. His white shirt was undone partially in front, showing off a light dusting of black chest hair that she instantly wanted to run her hands through. His strong jawline was covered in dark stubble. The kind that looked like it was always there. And it was amazing on him. It gave him a sexy yet rugged vibe.

A man’s man.

A moan wanted to come from her. She fought hard to internalize it.

Dear goddess, the man is amazing.

It took Amelia a second to realize she was staring at him rather awkwardly. She cleared her throat and gathered her wits about her before nodding. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

He stared at her for what felt like forever before putting his hand close to her face. He came just shy of touching her. Deep down she knew he wanted to make contact with her, but was refraining out of respect for her and her personal space.

To hell with personal space. She wanted to get very personal in his space as soon as possible. She took his hand and held it in hers, causing the heat to return.

He curled his fingers around hers and the heat intensified. For a moment, she thought for sure she’d go up in flames.

“If he hurt you in any way, I will kill him,” the man warned.

She’d all but forgotten about Taggert, who was still near them. Hot Guy didn’t seem to care and kept his back to the threat.

She eased closer to the hot guy, wanting to be held by him notwithstanding the fact he was a stranger.

He felt safe.

He felt right.

“Amelia,” said Taggert, causing her to look at him.

He was still by the edge of the river. His gaze slid to the newcomer, and she knew Taggert’s tells well enough to know the good Samaritan would end up hurt if she wasn’t careful and didn’t tread lightly.

She weighed her options. If she sided with the new guy, there was a high chance Taggert would go in search of his buddies and seek out the man to kill him at a later date. It’s what he and his friends did.

If she went to Taggert and gave him what he wanted—herself—she could possibly distract him and keep his attention from the man. But could she really do that? Could she let the sick bastard touch her?

She wasn’t sure. What she did know was that if she kept hanging on Hot Guy, matters would only go from bad to worse.

She jerked back from Hot Guy and pushed her hair behind her ears, glancing away. “Thank you for your help, but you should go now. Everything here is good.”

“Guid?” he asked with a huff. “Hardly. That douchebag was manhandling you. He’s lucky I do nae rip his fucking hands off and cram them down his throat. To harm a woman is the sign of a coward. Nae a man.”

She gulped as testosterone rode the air around them.

He moved closer once more and his scent washed over her. “Do nae fear me, lass. I’d never harm you.”

“I know,” she said without thought. And she did know without a shadow of a doubt that he’d never harm her. She didn’t understand why or how she knew as much, but it didn’t take from the fact she did.

Taggert’s nostrils flared, and he opened his mouth to speak but didn’t. Instead, he glanced off to the right, in the direction of one of the many paths that led to the river. The path he was focused on just happened to lead past the greenhouses as well. It didn’t take a genius to know he heard someone approaching—and there was only one person Amelia knew of who would cause Taggert to mind his words.

Her father.