Page 24 of Fated Protector

As I fall back down, he replaces my hand with his own, jerking himself furiously. After a moment, he comes with a hoarse growl, shooting across my belly, marking my breasts as his own. He collapses next to me, his arm still holding me tight against him. I press a soft kiss to his forehead, unable to speak, but as I trace his beautiful features with my finger, I realize his bruises and cuts have completely disappeared.

CHAPTER14

Abrisk knock at the door downstairs has me sitting straight up, driving my elbow right into Jack’s bared belly. He grunts out an “oof!” and tugs me back down in his arms, but I swat him away.

“Creature!” I hiss, shaking him awake.

“Ain’t no creature gonna knock,” he mumbles, swatting at my persistent hand. “Get back in bed.”

It’s hardly what you would call ‘coming back to bed.’ Last night, we came back upstairs and showered and then somehow pretzeled ourselves together on the old couch. Despite the cramped quarters and the limbs that kept falling asleep, it was wonderful sleeping next to Jack. More and more, I’m getting the sense that I need him more than I’ve ever needed any other person. It is a frightening concept, and I don’t know what will happen when I return to New York.

“Well, someone is knocking, creature or not,” I say, rolling off the sofa before he can grab me again. “Wake up.” I throw on a bathrobe and run down the stairs. The knocking continues in an obnoxious rhythm until I throw open the door.

“What is–” I stop, staring at the person I’ve caught mid-knock. It’s Jack’s informant, and though I didn’t get a good look at him yesterday, I realize now that he looks just like Jack. He has messy brown hair, broad shoulders and chest, and a stance as if he is about to wrestle someone to the ground. There are a few differences, though.

“Jack,” I yell over my shoulder. “The smiling version of you is here!”

His doppelganger bursts into laughter, pointing finger guns at me as he lets himself into the store. “I like you.” He stops in front of me and leans forward, his nose practically at my throat. Then, he inhales me, a long, loud intake of breath. Stepping back, he flashes a wolfish grin. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

“William,” Jack warns, coming down the steps. “Be good.”

“I am being good!” protests Will. “I’m just greeting your M–”

“Will.” Jack’s voice is thick with authority, and for a moment, Will’s eyes seem to gleam.

“Are you serious?” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You still haven’t talked?”

“What is he talking about?” I ask, completely lost in the discussion.

“I never know what he’s talking about,” says Jack dismissively. “Anna, this is Will, my younger brother.”

“He’sthe informant?”

“Dude, you don’t even call me your brother? I’m ‘The Informant’?” Will clutches his chest and feigns a sobbing gasp.

“It helps me forget how annoying you are,” states Jack. “We’ll go get dressed. Stay here.” He leads me upstairs, closing the door and locking it against his sibling.

“Anna,” he says, raking his hands through his hair. “Look–we need to talk about last night and a lot of other…things.”

“Other things?” I say faintly. Does he regret what happened? Was it just a one-night event, and now we just go platonically hunting monsters as our new normal?

“I don’t want to have this talk with Will around,” he says.

“You don’t trust him?”

“Oh, I trust him with my life,” Jack says with an assuring smile. “But he’s annoying as fuck.”

“I think most brothers are.”

“You have no idea. But there ain’t no way we can have a proper talk with that idiot around.” He slides on his jeans, and I duck out of the room to freshen up and change. When we’re both presentable, we go back downstairs to his brother, who is stretched out on the store sofa as if he owns the place.

“Shoes off the couch,” I instruct sharply. “Customers sit there.” Will obeys, sending a smirk toward Jack.

“What’s the news?” asks Jack. “The short version.” He flashes another warning look at Will, and once again, I feel like I’m missing something important.

Will’s goofy expression fades. “Jean-Pierre was attacked last night. He’s going to be okay, but he was pretty banged up. He just woke up this morning. He has no idea who attacked him.” He sends me a sad smile. “I think it is safe to say they’re after you, or Jack, or both.”

“But why?” I ask. “What more do they need now that Sasha is dead?”

---