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Because it had sounded as if heâd quietly snarled the word never.
Chapter 2
Silently cursing his lack of control where this particular woman was concerned, Brody wondered just what he was doing. Heâd sworn to himself that heâd stay home tonightâand yet, when Cian had come knocking at his door, on his way to the ceremony, he couldnât do it. His fear over what might happen to her had been too great, and heâd found himself following his partner up to the clearing where the Silvercrest pack conducted its businessâbusiness that was better suited to the wild than the civilized streets of its town.
He hadnât been able to stay away from herâhe hadnât even lasted a day.
But nothing had changed, because the facts remained the same. It didnât matter what he wanted. The truth of the matter was that women like Michaela Doucet never took interest in guys like himâones who were scarred and used and bitter enough not to care what the world thought about them. Sure, they may have used him for a raunchy one-night stand. One of those âlook at brave little me making it with the big scaryguyâ situations, turned on by his scars because of the violence they represented. But even then, they still feared him because of his sheer physical size and power. And they got off on that fear, using it as a twisted means of sharpening the thrill when they found themselves beneath a man who could too easily break them if he wanted.
Users, each and every one of them, and theyâd used him until Brody had just grown tired of it all and said to hell with itâto hell with womenâno matter how badly his body ached for one.
And youâre being an asshole. Michaela isnât like that, andyou damn well know it.
He ground his jaw down until his teeth ached, soaking in the pain, knowing he deserved it. He was being an idiot, because truth be told, Michaela Doucet scared the ever-loving hell out of him. Despite his determination to stay away from her, heâd known, deep down, that heâd come tonight. Known, instinctively, that it was where he belonged.
He hated itâbut there was no sense denying that he needed to be here to protect her. The entire time heâd hiked through the woods, heâd sworn to himself that heâd watch from the sidelines. Simply ensure she didnât get herself into more trouble than she could handle, and he had no doubt she could cause trouble. The woman lived up to her fiery Cajun heritage like a pro, whipping men into a frenzy of lust wherever she went.
Even now, when she was an emotional wreck, he could sense the unmated malesâ interest as the Lycans watched her with a dark, feral hunger, the edgy scent of their lust thick on the air, making him want to snap at them with his jaws.
She was just too beautiful for her own good. And too damn fearless! He still couldnât believe the depth of her anger toward the pack, or her willingness to confront them over the treatment of her brother. He wondered if the Doucet kid knew how lucky he was to have someone who cared that much about him, who was willing to risk her life because she wanted to keep him safe.
There was obviously a lot more to Michaela Doucet than a pretty face and a body most men would die for the chance to coverâand the uncomfortable knowledge made Brody want to let go of her, turn around and never come within a God-given mile of her again.
But his arms wouldnât cooperate. If anything, his grip tightened, the sensation of her soft curves plastered down the front of his body enough to make his teeth gnash. Heâd known sheâd feel incredible if he ever had the chance to be this close to her, to touch her, burying his face in her hair and letting her rich, seductive scent sink into himâbut he hadnât realized her effect would actually make his knees shakeâ¦or his mouth water for a slow, deep, intimate taste of her.
He wanted her on his tongue. All of her. Everywhere. His face lowered, lips rubbing against the smooth silk of her hair, and he was a breath away from sliding lower, nuzzling behind her ear, when he suddenly realized where they wereâ¦and what he was doing.
Goddamn it! Heâd worked so hard to master control of himselfâthere was no damned way he planned on letting her strip it away so easily. But holding herâ¦it was even more dangerous than heâd imagined. Richer. Sweeter. Every cell of his body ached with the need to claim, to accept the dark truth he refused to even consider.
âBrody?â The sound of his name jerked him out of his internal hell, and he realized Mason was standing just a little to his left, a few feet behind him. He could hear his friendâs confusion, as well as his surprise that Brody had been the one to grab hold of Michaela. Around them, the packâs energy grew sharper with the promise of confrontation between the Elders and the indomitable human he held in his arms, and Brody understood the need to retreat back to the safety of the other Runners.
âItâs okay, Mase,â he grated under his breath, carrying her with him as he backed up a few steps until flanked by their supporters. âWeâre under control here. Iâve got her.â
Sheâd grown quiet, but trembled in his arms even as she lifted her head high, too fragile for such strength, a contradiction that set his teeth on edge at the same time she sent his pulse rate soaring. He gently lowered her body until her feet touched the ground, but didnât release his hold on herâand she didnât try to pull away. She just stood there, pressed against his length, and stared soundlessly at her brother, the rapid panting of her breath making a quiet rasp through her parted lips.
With a knot in his gut, Brody wondered if they had explained to her exactly what the Novitiateâs ceremony entailed. Any moment now, Max Doucet would experience his first shift as a Lycan. Under close watch, his guards would have alerted the Elders when it was time to begin, recognizing the signs. Fever. Sweating. Cramping. The initial change was always the hardest, both mentally and physically, and only the strongest humans survived. Brody hoped the kid had it in him, because if his body failed to completely accept the shape of his wolf, yet he still lived, the rules of the ceremony were that heâd be killedâand then he and the others would have a battle on their hands, with Drake inciting the pack into a vicious frenzy.
With a cruel smile, the Elderâs cold gray stare traveled over their united force, lingering with bitter disapproval on his offspring, Eric and Elise, before cutting to Jillian Murphy. âItâs clear where your loyalties now lie,â he sneered, curling his lip as he addressed the packâs Spirit Walker. Through her maternal bloodline, Jillian held the sacred position of holy woman, or witch, for the Silvercrest pack. She was also the mate and fiancée of Brodyâs fellow Bloodrunner, Jeremy Burns. Beneath Drakeâs scornful stare, Jillian didnât so much as bat a lash, but beside her, Jeremy bristled with outrage.
âRest assured, Jillian, that Iâll be demanding your resignation,â Drake continued with malicious pleasure. âSilvercrest will no doubt be better off without you. We canât have you marring the purity of our young through your association with ones who are so repulsively impure. To be honest, Iâm surprised you have the gall to face us.â
âAnd after last week, Iâm surprised you donât know any better than to watch what you say to my mate,â Jeremy snarled as he took an aggressive step forward, looking more than ready to knock the racist Elder on his ass. Brody knew just how badly Jeremy wanted to take Drake apart, piece by satisfying piece, and he didnât blame him. Under the Elderâs orchestration, an attempt had been made on Jillianâs life the previous week, and it was only by some clever thinking on the part of Eric Drake that Jeremy hadnât killed the bastard in a murderous rage. If he had, the Silvercrest penalty would have been death, and Brody and the Runners would have lost a man who was more like a brother to them than a mere friend.
âAre you threatening me?â the Elder demanded of Jeremy, the sinister gleam of triumph in his chilling gaze revealing his ploy. He wanted Jeremy to make a move on him tonight, so that he could retaliate with the full force of the pack, using his position to strike out against the Runners.
Before Jeremy could react, Mason placed a cautioning hand on his partnerâs shoulder and Jillian stepped into his side, putting her arms around his waist. The group held their collective breath as they waited to see what he would do. Finally, Jeremy shook his fisted hands out at his sides, and draped his arm around his fiancéeâs shoulders. âI donât make threats,â he said in a quiet drawl, flashing the Elder a contemptuous smile. âI make promises. Iâd tell you to speak to my mate with respect, but the truth is that youâre not good enough to speak to her at all.â
Drake looked round at the pack. âAre you going to allow him to address his betters with such lack of respect?â
âStefan,â Dylan Riggs softly muttered, speaking for the first time, while the other Elders remained silent, their expressions tight with concern.
âThe pack knows who deals with its trash so that it can sleep in peace at night,â Cian called out, his words crisp with the lilting notes of his Irish accent. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his black leather jacket, placed one between his lips, and cupped his hand over the tip as he flicked open a silver butane lighter. After the first long drag, he lifted his head and sent the Elder a lazy grin. âIf I were you, Iâd worry about keeping on our good side, Drake.â
âYouâre not a member of this pack,â the Elder spat, glaring at Brodyâs partner. âNone of you are.â
âBy choice,â Mason rasped in a low slide of words, which were true. Nearly all of the Bloodrunners had achieved their required number of kills to rejoin the Silvercrest pack, though they chose not to. âItâd be wise of you to remember that.â
âItâs time now,â Fuller announced, stepping forward, sending an apologetic look in their direction. Graham Fuller may have been the best friend of Masonâs father, Robert, but he still held the position of Lead Elder among the Silvercrest League. As such, he carefully walked the line of neutrality when dealing with the ancient bad blood that existed between the purists, like Drake, and the crossbreeds. Even Dylan, who Brody personally didnât like, but was a close friend of the other Runners, had his hands tied when dealing with his fellow Elders. If he showed too much support for the Bloodrunners, Drake would demand a vote on his removalâand there was too much prejudice among the Silvercrest leaders to think Dylanâs position was secure.
Which meant the Runners were left on their own, same as always.
Wishing like hell that there was something he could do, Brody watched the guards pull Max to the center of the clearing. The boy stood silent and still, his head bent toward the ground, but Brody could see the thick sheen of sweat covering the young manâs skin. The veins in Maxâs arms thickened with the heavy flow of his blood, the tendons at the side of his neck, leading into his shoulders, rigid with strain, while his hands fisted at his sides, his chest rising and falling as he took each breath harderâ¦and harder.
âDo you know whatâs happening?â he asked in a rough whisper, brushing his lips against Michaelaâs ear. The enthralling scent of her skin filled his head, and he clenched his jaw, determined to ignore its devastating effect. âDid Wyatt or Mason explain to you what will happen?â
She nodded mutely, and then quietly whispered, âHeâs terrified.â
Taking his gaze from Max, Brody looked down to see her pulse rushing beneath the fragile column of her throat, so slender and pale and delicate. His tongue felt thick against the roof of his mouth, and in his head, he could hear the beating of her heart in perfect tempo with that wild rush beneath her milky-white skin. Then suddenly, like a blast hitting from out of nowhere, her words sank inâ¦and he remembered a crucial element that had somehow slipped his mind during the chaos of the evening.
Michaela Doucet was not your average, everyday human female. No, she held powers, talents that had yet to be completely explained to him, but which suddenly seemed like a massive tactical error on his part to have forgotten. She could read people she was physically close to, he recalled Torrance telling them one night over dinner. Like peering through a window, she could sense their emotions, their feelings.
He was a goddamn idiot! The last thing in the world he needed was to be here, holding her, giving her the opportunity to nose around inside his head! His fingers released their hold on her hip, the muscles in his arm flexing, ready to pull away from herâwhen in the next instant Max Doucet threw back his head and let out a bloodcurdling scream of horror that echoed through the quiet night like a sound torn straight from the bowels of hell.
âIt hurts,â she gasped, her voice cracking, and with a surge of fury at his inability to help, Brody realized it wasnât his head she was in. No, it was Maxâs. She was sharing her brotherâs terrorâ¦his pain!
âHeâ¦he feels like somethingâs trying to claw its way out of him,â she stammered, the words husky and broken, while her body arched against him, her lean muscles rigid as agony tore through her. âLike itâs going toââ
âStop it,â he growled in her ear, gripping onto her side with his free hand, his other arm still wrapped across her front. âGet out of his head, Doucet! I donât want you in there. Get out of it!â
She jerked, her head shooting back to slam against his collarbone, and Max fell to the ground, his expression ravaged, a broken scream pouring from his throat as his body contorted, seizing, spasm after torturous spasm clenching his strained muscles. The change rolled through him, rippling beneath the dark gleam of his skin, while blood pooled beneath his hands and razor-sharp claws pierced their way through the tips of his fingers. He threw back his head, his back arching as a throaty chuffing sound surged up from his thickening chest, through the muzzled shape of his mouth.
In Brodyâs arms, Michaela trembled, silent tears streaming down her face, and something sharp and agonizing slashed through him like remembered pain, making him grimace.
Son of a bitch. He couldnât stand watching her cry.
The night had turned brutal, the wind angry and vicious as it ripped through the trees with a snarling vengeance, lashing against the flames of the fires. Her long hair whipped across his face, and he couldnât hold itâthe devastating combination of her scent and those tears screwing with his head.
Against his better judgment, knowing it was going to land him in hell, Brody found himself wrapping his other arm across her middle, until he was cradling her against his chest, his body pulled around her as if he could shield her from the world. She turned her head to the side and buried her face in the warm hollow between his shoulder and neck, her damp breaths panting against his throat, and he couldnât stop the heavy surge of blood rushing to his groin, making him feel like a sick bastard, considering the circumstances. She went strangely still the second she felt his rigid erection pressing against her spine, and he bit back the guttural groan that rumbled deep in his chest.
Flicking his gaze away from the dangerous terrain of her body, he looked up and experienced an overwhelming wave of relief when he saw that Max Doucetâs change was complete. âItâs over now,â he whispered.
Despite the softness of his words, she flinched, her body trembling with an excess of emotion. She let out a slow, shaky exhalation of air, then turned her face back toward the clearing, her breath catching on a hoarse cry the instant she saw her brother.
The newly formed wolf rose on his hind legs, his massive chest rising and falling as he panted through parted jaws that revealed long, sinister fangs. Glowing blue eyes that burned like the center of a flame searched the crowd of spectators, until he found the one he was looking for. Brodyâs hold tightened as the wolf made a sluggish move toward Michaela, but the Lycan guards were already yanking on the thick chains that wrapped his throat, keeping him in place.
âThe change has been taken and the human breed has survived,â Fuller announced, his brown hair whipping around his face as the wind surged, playing havoc with the towering flames of the fire as they licked at the darkness of the sky. âWho will take responsibility for the Novitiateâs training?â
âThe honor will be mine,â a deep voice called out from behind them, and Brody turned his head to see Eric Drake step forward to stand beside Cian. A collective rumble of shock reverberated through the pack at this blatant, stunning show of support for the Runners from the Elderâs son.
âEric?â Drakeâs silver brows pulled together in a deep-seated scowl, his sharp cheekbones slashed with a vivid streak of ruddy color.
Crossing his brawny arms across his chest, the youngest son of the most pure-blooded line in the Silvercrest pack repeated his intention. âFor too long this pack has benefited from the courage and sacrifice of the Runners, giving nothing in return except the offer to join a community that treats them as inferiors. Enoughâs enough. Itâs time we make things right and give something back. The boy will pass his Novitiateâs training, and when he does, heâll become a Runner and hold a position that demands our respect. To see that it happens, Iâm taking on the training of Max Doucet as my own.â
âLike hell you are,â his father hissed, baring his teeth as he jabbed one long finger in his sonâs direction. âItâs bad enough that you and your sister have actually befriended them, but I will not allow my son to disgrace our family by aligning with these aberrations and taking responsibility for a human breed, the foulest creature of all!â
âYou canât stop him,â Elise Drake argued, stepping forward to stand by her brotherâs side in a show of support against their father, though her nerves revealed themselves in the tremor of her husky voice and the violent trembling of her hands. Not that Brody blamed her. Elise had been through a hell of her own the week before when her father had used her in the attack on Jillianâs life, and now she had to deal with this.
For a moment, the misogynistic Drake stood rigid with fury in the face of his daughterâs defiance, and then a soft gleam slowly began to burn in the wintry depths of his eyes. âYouâre right,â he murmured, straightening his cuffs in a purposeful act of indolence. âI canât stop Eric should he choose to malign his honor in such a fashion. But I can enjoy his failure.â He all but purred with malicious satisfaction. âFate has a way of righting all wrongs. Itâs been many years since weâve taken the responsibility for a Novitiate in this pack, but the rules remain the same. If the human breed fails to pass judgment at the end of his training, which Iâve no doubt he will, the punishment still stands and Max Doucet will be executed.â
âYou bastard!â Michaela hissed, suddenly jerking forward, but Brody was already tightening his hold on her. She strained against his arms, but couldnât break away as she shouted at the Elder, the horror sheâd just endured pouring out of her in an uncontrollable flash of fury and pain. âIf you hurt my brother, Iâll see that each and every one of you dies. Your town, your way of life. Iâll bring the entire world breathing down your neck. Just see if I donât! And Iâll be damned if heâs staying here! Iâll do whatever it takes to get him away from you! Iâll get the goddamn army up here, and weâll see how powerââ
Cursing foully under his breath, Brody pressed his palm over her mouth, silencing the words he knew were only going to land her in deeper trouble. Muffled sounds of outrage vibrated in her throat, but it was already too late. The damage had been done. Drake hated all humans with a passion that went beyond obsessiveâand because of their close association with the Runners, theyâd known the Doucets would garner special attention from the unstable Elder and his followers. And now that Michaela had openly challenged him, Drake wouldnât stop until he made her pay for the insult.
âThe human is too unstable to be allowed her freedom,â Stefan Drake announced with a gloating smile, spreading his arms in a gesture of entreaty. âSurely the pack realizes what must be done. She cannot be allowed to interfere with our dealings.â
âYour so-called dealings sought out her family,â Mason growled, ânot the other way around. We know youâre the one behind the rogues, Drake, and it wonât be long before weâve caught youâalong with the bastard working with youâand brought the both of you down.â
âDespite the slanderous accusations you and your kind have been tossing around like confetti,â the Elder argued, his hateful stare burning with maniacal triumph while whispered words traveled among the members of the pack, âmy guilt remains unproven. The truth is that you have no evidence to back your claims. Theyâre all based on nothing more than hearsay and conjecture. And regardless of how it happened, her brother is now here and the fact remains that she is a threat to our well-being. I call for anââ
âThereâs no need to call for anything,â Dylan growled, cutting Drake off. âShe can be assigned a guard and the problem is solved.â
âI agree,â Fuller called out before Drake could argue, the Lead Elderâs relief to have ended the disagreement without bloodshed obvious in the softened lines of his expression. âThe only question is who. Who is willing to accept accountability for her actions and watch over the human while her brother completes his training?â
Brody narrowed his eyes, his chest aching as he prepared to say the words he knew were going to change his entire life. It was insanity. Madness. The action of a fool. And yet, he didnât have any other choice. He never had.
âI am.â The two roughly spoken words echoed through the clearing with the force of a cannon blast, and Michaela instantly stilled, stiffening against him as all eyes turned toward them. âUntil this is over,â he growled, âthe human is mine.â
Chapter 3
The human is mineâ¦
The unbelievable words echoed through Michaelaâs head, the evocative warmth of Brodyâs breath against the sensitive shell of her ear enough to make her tremble with something sharper, darker, more visceral than shock or fear. She struggled for the source of her reaction to the possessive wordsâthen realized it was hunger, urgent and sweet, spreading hypnotically through her system. A cravingâa primal, instinctive needâthat moved like warm, thick honey in her veins, settling deep within her like an intimate, pulsing glow of heat that she wanted to curl herself around. 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 stand together to ensure his safety, if it comes to that,â Mason told her. She flicked her gaze up to see his easy grin as he added, âBut if heâs anything like you, thatâs not going to be a concern. If thereâs one thing I know about the Doucets, itâs that theyâre tough as nails.â
âThanks,â she murmured with a wry twist of her mouth. âI think.â
âDonât worry,â Torrance laughed, sending her husband a teasing look. âMaseâs compliments are still a little rough around the edges, but he means well.â
The Runner flashed his wife a wicked, hard-edged smile and playfully wagged his brows. âFace it, Tor. You love my rough side.â
âBehave,â Torrance admonished under her breath, but her green eyes glittered with excitement, her cheeks flushed a warm shade of rose. The love the two shared was so potent, so rich and heady and intense, that it seemed to fill the room, making Michaela painfully aware of howâ¦alone she was. All sheâd had was Max, and now even he had been taken from her.
âMax will pass his training,â Brody rumbled, breaking the awkward silence. âAnd until all of this is over, Iâllâ¦be withyou.â It almost sounded as if that last bit had stuck in his throat, and she wasnât the only one whoâd noticed.
âIf youâre not up to the task,â his partner drawled, reaching behind him to snatch up one of the cookies out of the perpetually stocked cookie jar, âI could always be a pal and step in for you, partner.â
Brody didnât so much as twitch, but she could see the vein that began throbbing in his temple, pulsing beneath the dark sheen of his skin as he tilted his head and glared at the smirking Irishman. Energy, red-hot and raging, surged around him like a fiery glow, so real Michaela almost flinched from the burn. âLike hell you will.â
âWhy not me?â Cian laughed, sending her a teasing wink. The irreverent Runner obviously loved goading his partner and friend, but Michaela could sense something deeper than mere irritation in Brodyâs reaction, and she didnât need any of her so-called powers to see it.
âWhy not you?â he softly snarled. âBecause youâd be too busy bedding her instead of protecting her, thatâs why!â