Shiloh Walker - The Protected

Alex’s hand froze over the plate.

Any guilt she might have felt died as the pain just continued to grow.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Gus said quietly. “Are you well enough to go home?”

“Sure.” She smiled at them both and pushed the cookies into Alex’s hands. The pounding in her head was getting worse, though, and she felt something wet on her face.

“What . . .” She went to wipe at her nose.

But before she could, she swayed. The world went dark.

GUS swore as he caught her.

He’d seen the trickle of blood, but it went from a trickle to a flood in a matter of seconds.

Under his breath, a litany of curses ripped out of him as he caught her against him.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Alex, his mouth stuffed full of cookie and his gaze big and round. “Don’t eat them, damn it. What if that’s what made her sick?”

Alex looked miserable.

But he shook his head and swallowed. As he followed Gus into the house, he clutched the plate against him. “It was me.”

“What?” Then he shook his head. “No. Not now. Get me a towel.” He laid Vaughnne’s still form on the couch and tried not to think about what a very nice form it was . . . lean muscle, lush curves. He could spend hours learning all the secrets of her body and never get tired, he suspected. But even if he could let himself take that pleasure, now wasn’t the time.

That smooth brown skin had gone ashen on him, and as he shifted to kneel closer to her head, he saw that the bleeding was getting worse.

“Alex, hurry up!”

“Here . . .” The boy’s voice was soft and sad as he pushed a towel into Gus’s hand, but Gus didn’t linger to look at the kid.

Not then. Anger pulsed inside him and he needed to get a grip on it before he spoke. He’d thought they had this under control. But . . . No. No buts. We just start again. And if it happens again , we start over . . . again . He focused on that as he pressed the towel to Vaughnne’s face, pinching her nose lightly just below where the bony area ended to help stem the bleeding.

More than two minutes in silence. He’d give it five before he pulled the towel away, but each second was an eternity and she was so still—

There was no warning.

One second she was lying there, motionless.

Then next, he had a fist flying toward him and his arms full of a woman he very much wanted to hold. He took the punch. It was off center and barely clipped his jaw, but if Alex was responsible, he figured she was more than owed that one hit.

She all but tumbled on top of him, still off balance, and the lush body was a temptation he could barely resist.

But Alex was only a few feet away.

And he had no time in his life for luxuries like this.

“What the hell . . .”

She blinked down at him and then pushed away, moving all too easily considering she’d been flat on her back just seconds ago. That had him concerned. But even as he started to puzzle through that, she stumbled, swaying above him. Rising to his feet, he caught her arms and stared down at her. The bleeding had stopped. That was good.

Her eyes were still cloudy.

That wasn’t good.

“What the hell . . .” she muttered again, shaking her head like she was trying to clear it. She pressed the heel of her hand against her temple like that might help lessen the pain he knew she was feeling—and he knew she was hurting. Knew it from experience.

Nothing would help except time. He’d thought they had this under control.

He couldn’t think about that, though. He’d think about it later. Once he had her out of here and away from Alex.

Focusing on her face, he said quietly, “You passed out.” That is all. Nothing else to it.

She’d believe it. They all did.

Her gaze rested on his face for a second, and then she looked down, studying the towel in his hand.

He just barely managed to resist clenching his hand in a fist. “Your nose started to bleed,” he said, lifting it up. “There’s a bathroom down the hall if you’d like to wash up.”

She lifted a hand and touched her nose, grimacing a little before looking back at him. With a sigh, she nodded, and as he turned around, he glanced at Alex.

The boy was staring at his shoes.

Wonderful. Like that didn’t look guilty as hell.

SOMETHING told her this wasn’t his first time at this particular rodeo.

As he managed to wedge them both into the tiny bathroom, she kept her face blank and tried to act a little dismayed. It wasn’t hard. She was panicked, trying not to panic more. As they’d come down the hall, she’d pressed a hand to her chest, felt the slight bump of the micro cameras she’d decided to tuck inside her bra instead of her pocket. Thank God.

Thank God he hadn’t found those. If he had . . .

Yeah. It wasn’t hard to fake dismay, wasn’t hard to act a little off balance. She was dismayed. She was off balance.

Just not for the reasons he thought, and she had to totally downplay that.

The boy had literally knocked her off her feet.

She’d been helpless at the hands of a man who was capable of God only knew what.

And damn it, her nose was still trickling blood. All from Alex’s careless assault on her mind.

Did she know anybody with that kind of raw power?

Vaughnne honestly didn’t know. She knew plenty of powerful psychics, yeah. But they were all older than Alex, all of them trained. And none of them were going to accidentally knock somebody out like that.

The kid was dangerous. And he was running around without any kind of real supervision, nobody to make sure he was learning how to control it and nobody capable of reeling him in if he did lose it.

Talk about an absolute mess .

She had been bad enough with her banshee-like voice when she lost it back before she had gotten herself under control, but she’d never had the ability to cause physical harm. Mental harm, yeah. She’d done her share of that. But this boy had caused physical damage. And he was all of what . . . thirteen?

“Here we go,” Gus said, turning away from the minuscule closet and facing her.

The bathroom wasn’t much bigger than a postage stamp, it seemed. There was room for the toilet, the sink, and the tub. That was about it. With the two of them in there, it was something of a tight fit.

“Ah . . .” She glanced at the rag and then eased closer, but that had her brushing up against him. She held out her hand, but he acted like he didn’t notice. She didn’t see how that was possible as he turned on the water, reaching past her to do so. It brought him even closer, and she could feel the wicked heat of his body and she just wanted to lean against him, wrap her body around his, and rub herself all over him.

The image was almost enough to make her whimper with want.

“How is the headache now?” he asked.

That voice of his—black velvet in the dead of night. Seductive and sinful. Something else that could make her whimper with want. She could just get lost in it.

Instead, she gave him a wry grimace and turned away from him to study her rather macabre reflection. He’d managed to get most of the blood off her face, but it was drying on her neck and her shirt was trashed. “The headache is getting better, but I look like a vampire’s chew toy,” she said sourly. She held her hand out over her shoulder. “Can I have the rag?”

He pushed it into her hand, but instead of moving out of the way, he lingered there as she leaned in and started to wash the blood away. She had to rinse the rag out twice to get her neck clean. She went over her face again. Finally, though, she’d cleared it all away, and before she turned to face him, she rinsed it out one more time. “I can take it home and wash it if you want.”