Southern Shifters: Pryde and Precious (Kindle Worlds Novella) (4 page)

No one except those familiar with the concepts. Not mollified by her explanation, he zeroed in on the key part of her statement. “Some companies? More than Rynodyne?”

She bit her lower lip, and her gaze slid away.

“Arianna.” He didn’t bother to disguise the command in his tone. “What other companies did you reach out to?”

“Who are you to ask me that question, John Brandon?” Those deep brown eyes met his, willful and glimmering with mystery. An odd turn considering her earlier panic and shyness—odd? He rather preferred the change. The woman studying him possessed the ability to bite.

“The man who is offering you protection from your foolishness. You should not have reached out to the humans. You have no idea what they can do with that formula.”

“That would require they have the full thing and it worked,” she countered, sounding almost smug. “They do
not.
”

“No.” He shook his head, already considering the possibilities. “They don’t, but you do, and if they know what to look for, you’ve told them you possess at least one piece possibly all the pieces. Do you know what they would do to get their hands on a formula which masks or alters scent?” Not all humans were bad. He was fond of a great many of them, but like the clans, the humans had bad seeds. Terrible people who were a threat to he and his kind, to hers as well. They wouldn’t think twice about using her.

“You’re assuming they would even know how to find me.”

Shaking his head, he stood abruptly and loomed over her. Time for a reality check. “I found in you two hours, and I wasn’t even trying that hard.”

She paled. It wasn’t enough.

“Who did you send the questions to? I need to know.
Now.
”

Her throat convulsed as she swallowed hard. “Gentec.” He knew the company. They wouldn’t be a problem. “And Inferon.”

Fuck.

A
pparently mentioning
Inferon had been a mistake. Her kidnapper—John—didn’t behave like any kidnapper she’d ever met.
And how many have you met, hmm?
Ignoring the niggling voice in the back of her mind, she canted her head. Every book she’d read on interpersonal dynamics said holding a gaze was important in establishing a dominance or at least equality in a conversation.

With John gazing down at her though, she didn’t want to move from her spot on the sofa, much less try to stare him down. If anything, she just wanted to curl deeper into the sofa. “I really don’t do well with people,” she managed to stammer, despite the fact her teeth were clattering together. “I really don’t do well when they glare at me.” She didn’t look up, but he sat once more.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” The gruffness in his tone didn’t match his beautiful looks. A pity, really, because the deep almost melodic voice came out like a rumbling purr.

“I’m not sure this is the best time to admit this, but I don’t really think you believe what you’re saying.” Whatever his gift was, his mind didn’t crowd in on hers. Nor did she detect any stray thoughts. Considering the tattered state of her shields, it was a godsend. Maybe that was why he was so angry—she was projecting everything.

The longer she sat there, the more awake she grew. “Look, Mr. Brandon—”

“It’s Colonel, but call me John.” Another order, and she didn’t question his seriousness.

“Fine.
John
, I think you’re overreacting.”
Please be overreacting.
“I’m just a botanist. I didn’t ask for this project and, while I understand the basics, there were compounds I don’t understand. I don’t have a staff or anything else. The orders were very straightforward. I’m assuming yours were, too.” Because why else would he be there? “Unless your orders are something else.”

Ice slithered through her belly.

“Are you one of those people I’m supposed to be keeping it a secret from?” She’d not mentioned the project name or the end goal. He had. So he knew something.

“Right now, I’m the man asking the questions.” Only he didn’t ask anything further, he pulled a phone from his pocket and sent a series of messages. Daring to ease forward while his distraction afforded her the opportunity, she tried to see what he typed. The phone vanished before she could make out more than a blur of words, and he rose. “You need to eat something. You’ve been hungry since you woke. Can you stand, or should I carry you into the kitchen?”

Heat scalded her face. “I’m capable of walking.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She’d been humiliated enough at this point. “I am also more than capable of returning to my home, and I’d prefer it, actually.”

“Your apartment has been scrubbed. You will not be returning to it.”

Shock rippled through her. Shock followed by disbelief and, the moment she could wrap her mind around the words he’d spoken, she pushed toward the edge of the sofa until only a narrow space separated them. “What did you do with my plants?” Not just her plants. Her babies. Her projects. Not waiting for an answer, she poked his chest with a finger. “Where are they? Who touched them? They require specific temperatures and conditions.”

When he closed his hand over hers, a surge of panic swallowed her next words. His hand was huge by comparison. Larger, stronger, and far warmer than her own, yet his skin seemed like hot satin against her flesh. Almost silky soft…

“You’re a shifter.”
Oh crap.
The realization struck her like a blow. Simon would be furious. She had been kidnapped. Would they execute her for working on the project? On the heels of that gut wrenching thought came another.
I don’t want to die.
She tried to pull her hand free, but John didn’t release her. His grip was like a velvet shackle, trapping her but offering no harm.

The thump of her heart filled her ears and a rushing sound threatened. One moment, she was on the sofa and the next John had her in his arms. He strode through the house, but the darkness encroaching on her vision blocked her view. Water soaked her face, then her shirt and she spluttered as she inhaled some of it. The cough cleared away the shadows, and she stared into his crisp blue eyes.

“No more passing out.” The order reverberated through her. “What is wrong with you, woman? I scent no sickness, yet you keep collapsing on me.”

“You kidnapped me, and I’m terrified you’re going to kill me.” Well, she hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but once the valve on the dam of words opened, she couldn’t stop them. “I never leave my apartment except to go to the greenhouse. I never talk to other people. My shields are in tatters and you’re so…so…”

He set her on the counter, and it was so cold beneath her thighs, but she cherished the icy sensation. The jolt offered exactly what she needed to remain grounded. Even the knowledge he was a shifter didn’t reveal his thoughts to her or add any mental noise. What offered comfort earlier now added a new layer to her terror. Other Psi found her odd shields irritating, yet they could also keep her loose thoughts away. At a young age, she learned how brutally they could shut her down if she didn’t keep her mind in check. John seemed to show no signs of disturbance, but she’d never been around the shifters either.

“I’m so what?” Patience or irritation discolored his words. She could no longer parse the emotions in his tension-laced tone. The deep masculine timbre of his voice stroked over her, a caress for her jangling nerves and too tightly wound soul. Did his eyes actually glow? Despite their relocation, he had yet to stop touching her. The silkiness of the soft hair—pelt—along his hands a delight against her alternately chilled and too-heated skin.

Dear heaven, she was a mess. Relinquishing any hope of gaining control of the ever-spiraling situation, she admitted the truth. “You’re so gorgeous.”

If her declaration startled him, his slow blink revealed nothing. Instead, he stared at her until she wanted to squirm. The weight of his gaze pressed in on her until she couldn’t take a deep breath.

After such a buildup, the last word she expected him to utter was, “Huh.”

T
hough her compliment
stroked his ego, he didn’t have time to appreciate it. Anger flashed in her eyes, then she thumped his chest. The light blow had little effect on him, which apparently annoyed her further. She hit him again. Then a third time. From solemn-eyed mouse to hellion in four blows, she pounded on his chests with her sweet, ineffectual fists. Despite the violence, she remained almost curiously silent until she ceased beating on him and huffed out a breath. Tears dampened her cheeks, ending his brief amusement.

“Hey…” He fought to gentle his tone then cupped her cheek. “You’re upset.” So close to her, he couldn’t miss the deep burn of her distress.

“Of course I’m upset. I told you, I don’t like people. I don’t do well with them, and I don’t know you. Yet you’re holding me…both here in this place and with me.” She stuttered each word. “You’re a shifter. You lied to me.”

The second accusation stung. “I didn’t lie.” When she opened her mouth to protest he placed a finger against her lips. “I didn’t. I told you I was there because of the email you’d sent—the email which told me you had access to the formula from Project Pryde.”

The swift dilation then contraction of her pupils confirmed his suspicion. She had been assigned to Darcy Ashwood’s creation. Though the snow leopard, Bennett, mated Darcy and stole her away, the Psi council still had access to her work.

“I can’t…” She shook her head, and the jerky motion worried him.

Cupping her chin, he nudged her gaze upward to meet his. Studying her deep brown eyes, he let his hand glide over her skin to her throat. One snap and the issue would be resolved.

“Are you going to kill me?” Her panic attacks aside, every creature knew when a predator had them in their sights. Survival instincts kept even the meek alive. Though her reaction to his comment about scrubbing her apartment had demonstrated passion existed beneath the surface, her tears and shudders pulled at him.

“No.” The answer surprised him, and he stroked her throat. The wild, frenetic beat of her pulse pulled at him. Whatever else she was, Arianna Ferrars was not a threat to him. Someone put her in the line of fire.

“No?” The quaver in her tone tethered him, and he gave into the instinct to comfort her. Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her to his chest. She was cold and stiff at first.

“No.” He repeated more firmly. “I’m not going to kill you. I’ll keep you safe.” If she sent part of the formula to Inferon, it meant human hunters had access to a part of the compound. Worse, they had witches on their payroll. If they recognized what she asked them for… “I need to ask you some questions, but I need you to stay conscious for it. So we’re going to eat. Then we’ll talk and figure this out together.”

“Who are you, John Brandon?”

A fair question, he supposed. He was asking for her trust, so he needed to show her some.

“I’m a Colonel in the Army. Soon to be retired.” After his latest choices, he’d have to take retirement. Serving two masters had always been a way to protect the clans and country, but promising security to the Psi in his arms meant he would have to break with one, if not both, of his former allegiances.

“And a shifter.” Though muffled, he could feel the vibration of her voice against his chest.

“Yes, I’m a shifter.”

“So you have to be loyal to your clan.”

“As you are loyal to yours.”

She didn’t respond immediately, so he leaned away to catch her gaze once more. The dampness on her lashes gave her a dew-kissed appearance. Her pale cheeks were ruddy, whether from emotion or contact, he couldn’t be sure.

“Arianna.” He liked the way her name sounded on his tongue. “Clan loyalty is about protecting our people—all of them—from threats outside and within.”

“Within?” Curiosity kindled in her tone, far preferable to the wounded notes underscoring their interaction.

“Yes.” He sighed. “We will discuss all of this. You need to eat.”

A grimace tightened her face. “I’m not really hungry.”

“That’s usually when you need food more than ever.” He braced her hips, then edged her back on the counter until she could lean against the cabinets. “You were exercising when I arrived, and it’s been several hours. You collapsed twice now.” When she seemed steady, he withdrew and crossed over to the fridge. Extracting meat, cheese and mayo, he glanced at her. She’d pulled her knee up to her chest and hugged it. “Do you have any food allergies?” Psi could be delicate—or at least that was the rumor. They relied on their mental abilities to protect them. Though, Arianna exercised. She had toned muscles and a lithe shape to go with her sultry curves.

“No.” Her knuckles whitened where she gripped her leg. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours. I thought you’d had a seizure at first, then I thought perhaps you’d had a mental shock. I know it happens to the Psi sometimes when they try to attack our minds. Some of us have an innate resistance, and I’ve been trained to repel psychic attacks.”

“I didn’t…” Her eyes widened, and he raised his hand.

“I wasn’t accusing you.” Nor would he have blamed her. He did break in the door. “It could have been a lot of things.”

“Where are we?”

“About two hours from Deal’s Gap. Deeper into the Dragon’s Back. This is my place.” He built two sandwiches while he spoke.

“Because you need to question me?”

“Yes.” He didn’t need to lie about his motivations. Having already made the decision to protect her, he didn’t plan to withdraw from it. “I need to know what you asked from the other companies and what part of the formula you shared. I also need to know who asked you to do the work. Do you know Darcy Ashwood?”

“I’m not sure I can answer any of those questions. I was given the assignment…and I don’t even know why. I’m a botanist. I work with plants, not animals. Not that you’re an animal.”

John chuckled at the hurried disclaimer. “I’m definitely an animal, pretty lady.” Setting her sandwich on a paper towel, he carried it over to her and set it in her hands. “That’s one thing you should never forget when dealing with shifters. We’re every bit as much an animal as we are human.”

“Animals are driven by instincts.”

“This is a problem?” He took a bite of his sandwich, then stared at her until she did the same.

She chewed slowly, and he waited until she took a second bite before tearing into his sandwich. His stomach growled. He should probably make another three or four sandwiches. She wasn’t the only one who was hungry. The Psi ate like a little bird, sharp, deliberate bites and she chewed each one with the same kind of intensity. After she’d eaten about half the sandwiched, she glanced around the kitchen.

“Water?”

“Yes,” she said after swallowing hard. “Please.”

He shoved the last bit of his sandwich into his mouth, then retrieved a glass and filled it with water. Handing it to her, he smiled slightly. She drank most of it, then returned to her own meal. “What’s wrong with instincts?”

“Nothing I suppose, but animals hunt because they like to chase and they need to eat. They kill to survive. They don’t rely on logic.”

“That depends.” He grunted, leaning on the counter next to her.

“On what?”

“Have you ever seen a squirrel trying to get into a hummingbird feeder, even when it’s surrounded by traps?”

Her rapid blink served as answer enough.

“Before you judge animals, get to know them.” He folded his arms. “Feeling better?”

“A little, yes. Thank you.”

“Good. Shall we begin our conversation again?”

“Which one?”

“Miss Ferrars, I’m Colonel John Brandon. I’m here about the email you sent to Rynodyne.”

The corners of her mouth tilted upward, and the hint of a smile transformed her gentle face. “That seems kind of silly. We’ve already met…”

“Indulge my instincts.” The tease slid off his tongue with ease, and she rewarded him with a wider smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Colonel Brandon…”

“John.”