Nalini Singh - The Magical Christmas Cat

Haley, with her bright red hair, her soft scent of desire, couldn't be gone. He knew he should have never left her protection to any other breed. Something had warned him, some strange foreboding had told him that her life would be in more danger than one silent bodyguard could defend her against.

Damn Jonas. Noble had warned him they couldn't keep her safe like this. She needed to be sequestered, at the very least pulled into Sanctuary until the hearing next month against Brackenmore and Engalls.

The bastards. The drug they had created to attempt to control breeds had resulted in two deaths in the past few weeks, and they had nearly lost Dr. Morrey as well.

And now, they could have lost Haley.

He couldn't imagine a world without Haley in it. He refused to imagine such a thing. It was impossible, it couldn't happen.

He hadn't kissed her yet. He had barely even touched her. He hadn't yet figured out why she drew him as no other woman ever had, though in the past week, he had begun to suspect exactly why.

He hadn't yet had a chance to decide*if he could risk taking her, making her his, or if he should force himself to leave the situation as it stood.

The hunger eating at him was still controllable. The need driv­ing him could still be buried in another woman. The heated lust could still be pumped from his body, and though satiation was never complete, it was satisfying.

He was still his own man.

For the moment.

Once he knew Haley was safe, once he made her life his primary objective, he would no longer be able to claim that singular inde­pendence. And he knew it.

He raced into town, slowing the cycle and easing it around traf­fic, bending over the padded chest rest and gearing down as he glimpsed the flames that blazed around the library.

And he felt the roar that discharged from his chest at the sight of the twisted, ruined, blazing hulk of Haley's truck. A roar of bloodlust and animalistic rage. Someone was going to pay. Dear God, if she was in that truck, if she was gone forever, then blood would flow.

Haley shuddered in the blanket Zane Taggart had wrapped around her. The sheriff was kneeling in front of her as she sat sideways in his cruiser, her feet on the ground, the heat from the vents blasting over her upper body. Still, she shuddered from the cold and the fear.

Zane was one of those men in Buffalo Gap Haley had known almost since the cradle. He was a few years older than she, so he had always been a little protective of her. Zane was protective of all women though. He wasn't in uniform, so he must have been off duty when the explosion happened. He was dressed in jeans, a dark flannel shirt, and a heavy quilted overshirt.

He was staring at her silently as she gripped the cup of hot coffee he had pressed into her hands seconds ago, his expression concerned.

"You should let the paramedics look at you, Haley." He reached out and brushed her hair gently off her forehead.

"I'm fine." A sob hitched her breath, shuddered through her body. "Patricia's not okay, Zane." More tears leaked from her eyes.

She couldn't seem to hold them back. Patricia was gone, and it was all her fault. Because she had let Patricia borrow her truck, had given her the keys because it was going to snow.

Lazy fluffy flakes were already drifting through the air, but they no longer held the magical appeal they had only a few hours ago.

Flames still burned inside the library. The fire blazing around the building and the vehicles that had caught fire were more im­portant than the books inside a building that would contain its own flames.

"No, Patricia's not okay, Haley." Zane sighed and stared through the windshield before turning back to her. "You have to tell me what happened, honey."

"I don't know." She stared back at Zane in shock. "It was going to snow. You know how pitiful Patricia's car is in the snow." An­other sob tore free. How pitiful it had been. The explosion had de­stroyed several other vehicles as well, Patricia's being one of them.

She lowered her head, fighting the sobs that shook her shoulders as Zane patted her knee.

"Come on, Haley." He lifted her chin until he was staring back at her. "You gave Patricia your keys, right?"

She nodded unsteadily. "So she could get to town after the snow. She hates being snowed in."

"Yes, she hates that." Zane nodded. "Go on."

"That's all," she whispered. "She went out to leave. I turned the television back on. I wanted to see the snow." Her lips trembled. "They were showing the snow in other states, and I wanted to see it. And then . . ." She blinked and shook her head.

She had to stop crying. She had to remember what Jonas Wyatt and Noble had told her. She couldn't tell anyone what had hap­pened at Sanctuary until the hearing. But she knew, oh God, she knew Patricia had died because of it. Somehow, some way, the Breeds' enemies knew what she had seen and overheard. She knew it. She could feel it crawling over her skin, digging its way inside her brain.

"Haley." Zane stared up at her, his blue eyes sharp, concerned, but knowing. "You have to tell me what's going on here, honey. Someone blew up your truck. That wasn't an accident. You and I both know it wasn't an accident. Now, you have to tell me why."

She shook her head. She couldn't lie to Zane. She was a horrible liar, and she knew it. And she couldn't look him in the eye when he was staring at her like that. Determined and worried, compassion and pain glittering in his eyes.

She looked at her truck, and her stomach ached with the sobs and the fear she was holding in. Her chest felt constricted, tight, and filled with pain.

There was nothing left of Patricia. She was gone, while the snow drifted through the air, and the flames billowed around them.

Firefighters were working to put out the blazes, several twisted hunks of vehicles were nothing but charred skeletal remains of what they had been.

"We found a breed, Haley," Zane told her then.

Her head jerked around in terror. Haley could feel the rest of the blood leeching from her body, agony tearing through her.

"No." Sometimes Noble came in late. Returned books, helped her lock up.

"He was shot behind the library. Someone killed him. Now tell me what the hell is going on, or I'm taking you in for your own protection."

"Who?" The word wheezed out of her as her stomach churned sickeningly. She was rocking, slowly, back and forth, and didn't notice as the coffee cup slipped from her grip and crashed to the ground.

She was going to throw up.

"Who was the breed?" She nearly pushed Zane back as she forced herself to her feet. The quilt dropped behind her. "Where is he?"

She was shaking so hard she had to grip the open door as Zane grabbed her shoulder.

"Haley, dammit, tell me what the hell is going on."

"Was it Noble?" she screamed back at him. "Tell me, damn you. Who was the breed?"

She tried to tear away from him, the sickening fear of Noble, gone, dead. No, it couldn't be Noble.

But it had been time for Noble. It had been. She had been wait­ing for him.

She stared around and jerked away from Zane.

"Where is he?" She sobbed again, stumbling around the door and gripping the side of the car as she tried to force her legs to move.

He had said behind the library. Dead behind the library. She wasn't crying now. The fear and the pain was going too deep for tears. If Noble was gone, she couldn't bear it. Not Patricia and Noble. It couldn't happen. Not like this. Not because of her.

As she forced herself around the front of the vehicle, she heard a sound so wild, so animalistic, her head jerked up. It was Noble. She knew it was. She couldn't accept anything else.

"Noble!" She screamed his name and heard the sound again.