And it centered on the Bloodrunner who held her in his hard-muscled arms, the resonating beat of his heart banging out a powerful rhythm against her back.
Oh God, this canât be happening.
âIf you promise to behave,â he whispered in a low, husky rumble, his lips moving against her hair, âIâll take my hand away from your mouth. Do you promise, Doucet?â
She gave a jerky nod, and sensation pierced through her like a physical jolt as her lips rubbed against the masculine roughness of his palm; the musky, outdoors scent of his skin filling her head.
Shocked murmurs continued to work their way through the surrounding pack, marked by low snarls and grumblings of disapproval, but a strange buzzing noise, like static, started to fill her ears as everything sheâd experienced in the last few moments crashed down on her. She shook her head, trying to clear the confusion, but couldnât escape the growing feeling of unreality. Through a hot sheen of tears, she watched as the Elders huddled into a tight circle. Only Dylan Riggs cast a sharp glance in her direction, before lowering his head and joining the other Elders in a heated conversation while the pack clustered together in groups of their own. She could see a few human mouths, as well as Lycan jaws moving, but couldnât hear the words they produced over the frenzied noise thudding against her skull.
When a nearby group of Lycans suddenly stepped toward them, Brody moved with whipcord strength, shoving her behind his back before she even knew what was happening. âMason, get her back to the Alley,â he grated, and she almost sighed with relief as the words sank into her system, the static whir slowly fading away. âThe others can help me deal with things here. Weâll meet back up with you at the cabin when weâre done.â
Vaguely aware of Torrance grabbing on to her wrist and pulling her away, Michaela stumbled, looking back over her shoulder toward the clearing, watching as Eric Drake walked toward the incredible creature her brother had become, his dark fur gleaming like black satin in the moonlight. Eric began talking with Maxâs guards, reaching for the chains that bound him, when his father broke away from the Elders and advanced on them. She struggled to see what was happening, but everyone was moving around and too many bodies blocked her view.
Looking back to the spot where Brody had stood, her muscles clenched with panic when she found him gone, lost somewhere in that swarming chaos of activity. What if something happened to him? It would be her fault, wouldnât it? Male voices, raised in anger, reached her, and she knew instantly that it was Brody arguing with Stefan Drake. They both sounded furious, but she knew the Runner would win. And then heâd come to the Alley, where he expected to find her waiting.
Michaela had never considered herself a coward, but after the crushing experience with her last relationship, sheâd grown wary of putting her trust in the opposite sex. And more importantly, she no longer trusted her judgmentâor her bodyâs physical desires. And God only knew the powerful way she reacted to Brody Carter was enough to make any sane woman cautious. It was too much. Tooâ¦everything.
No, she wasnât a coward, but she sent a sharp look toward the trees, wonderingâ¦
âDonât even think about it,â Mason warned her with a gruff chuckle, the corner of his mouth edging up into a strained grin. âYou wouldnât make it more than ten feet before he had you down.â
Had her down? A hazy image of being trapped beneath Brodyâs long, hard, muscular body flashed through her mind, and she trembled. God, talk about emotional overload. She was shaking so hard she could barely see straight.
âI donât understand,â she whispered, turning a dazed stare toward her best friend. âWhat just happened, Torry?â
Arching one slim red brow, Torrance shot a questioning look toward her husband. âIf I had to guess, Iâd say youâd just been given a personal bodyguard.â
Mason nodded, his handsome face carved into a cautious expression of concern. With a strange bubble of emotion in her throat that felt as if it could end in either laughter or tears, Michaela wondered who that concern was for. Was he worried how well sheâd deal with his brooding friend? Or was that hard expression that looked as if itâd been chiseled from granite for Brody? Did he think sheâd lead a reign of terror over the quiet Runnerâs life?
âAnd I get him?â she groaned, knowing it couldnât be true. There was no way in hell Brody Carter had just volunteered himselfâ¦to what? The job had sounded more like a watchdog than a bodyguard. âWhen he said that Iâm his, he meant his to watch over, right?â
Mason snorted a low, purely male sound under his breath, and led them deeper into the forest.
It took an hour of sitting there in the Dillingersâ cozy kitchen, with Torrance pouring another pot of herbal tea into her system, before Brody finally came to collect her. Michaela heard the commotion at the front door as he and his partner arrived. For a moment, she felt torn between the strangely opposing urges of running into the living room and demanding he comfort her, and sneaking out through the cabinâs back door, disappearing into the darknessâ¦as if she could run away from the ugly reality of the night.
But she couldnât move.
She waited, her breath held tight in her chest, until his broad-shouldered body filled the archway that led into the kitchen. His shadowed, dark green gaze trapped her the second he set eyes on her, refusing to let her look away, holding her with the sheer force of his will. The lines around his mouth were tight with strain, and at his sides, his hands were fisted, his knuckles bruised and a little swollen. His auburn hair was damp at the temples, his shirt torn at the shoulder and the sharp line of his left cheekbone had been scraped raw. Her brows pulled together in a tight frown as she added the details together and came to an unsettling conclusion. âYouâ¦you didnât fight after I left, did you?â
âAre you kidding?â Cian snorted, edging past his partner as he walked into the kitchen. âIt was just a playful scuffle. Hell, there were only ten of them, hardly enough to call it a fight. And none of them were brave enough to battle against Brooding Brody,â he drawled, hitching his hip against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest, a cynical smile twisting the hard curve of his devilâs mouth, but Michaela couldnât tell if he was teasing or not.
âAnd Max was okay?â she asked, her attention focused on Brody while Torrance filled the sink with hot, lemon-scented dishwater and Mason finished off the sandwich heâd made while waiting.
Brody nodded in response to her question, but didnât move away from the archway. Instead, he crossed his own arms and propped his right shoulder against the wall, the recessed kitchen lighting glinting off the burnished stubble on his square chin, softening the stark lines of his scars. âEric took him away before we left. Heâll take good care of him, Doucet. No harm will come to your brother during his training.â
Michaela worked to ignore the devastating effect of his deep voiceâthat husky, intoxicating baritone that slipped into her with a sweet, provocative slide and made her hot beneath the skinâbut it didnât work worth a damn. The tight, black cashmere sweater that had kept her warm outside now sat too heavy over her damp skin, filling her face with heat. Lowering her gaze to the steam rising from her tea, the china cup fragile within the straining hold of her hands, she asked, âAnd after that? After the training?â
âIf he doesnât pass, then weâd all
