Page 28 of Royal Protector

“Shh, baby, I’m gonna get you out,” I murmur, my eyes sweeping the perimeter. The smoke is as thick as a morning fog, and it’s nearly impossible to identify anyone. A body falls next to me, and Isabella screams.

Buck Galston lays next to us, hissing in pain and holding his mangled arm. It isn’t enough to kill him, but his face is twisted with agony.

“I have to help him,” pleads Isabella, trying to push me off of her. “He’s wounded!” She wails when I don’t move, pounding on my arm.

“You can’t help him,” I snarl, hoping to frighten her out of her panic. “We’ve got to get you out of here. You can’t be hurt.” She cries out again, wriggling against me, until I feel a body next to me.

“Shush up, princess,” Buck says, blood oozing out of his arm, leaving a trail where he crawled over here. “You gotta get out of here so you can put me back in my place the next time we argue.” He winks at her, and after a moment, her limbs relax, and she stops hitting my chest.

“See?” I say, checking her expression for signs of shock. “We have to go. You can’t mess with Texas.”

“Damn right,” says Buck, hissing with pain through a tight grimace.

I chance a look at his arm, and the sight jolts me with horror. That’s no gunshot wound. That’s a bite mark, with two very prevalent fang impressions torn into the flesh. There’s only one supernatural creature that makes that sort of mark, and it ain’t a werewolf.

My eyes flick up to Buck’s, who gives me a grim nod. “I counted at least five before I went down,” he says in a low voice. “They came through the windows on the east side. All vampires, dressed in black like burglars. I took one down myself.” I raise an eyebrow, and he grins, a dreadful sight with the blood spatter adorning his cheeks. “You haven’t truly lived until you’ve staked a vampire with a wooden soup spoon.”

“I wish I’d seen it,” I say, gazing down at Isabella. She’s calm now, waiting for the next step in our escape. “I gotta get her out. Can you cover me?”

“Sure can,” he says, already pushing himself to his feet with one arm. He stands in front of us as I help Isabella out from under the table and onto her feet.

“The wall is about ten feet to our right,” I tell them. “If we follow it left, it will lead us to the door. If you can distract them, I can get her out of here.”

Buck grins at me, and tips an imaginary hat toward me. “Will do, partner. On the count of three?”

One, two, three counts later, and Isabella and I dash toward the wall that will lead us to freedom. Buck sprints in the opposite direction, whooping like a cowboy on a bucking bronco and screaming something about remembering the Alamo. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see him take down a body dressed in all black.

“Go, go, go,” I order Isabella, almost pushing her along the wall.

Behind us, Buck’s victory yell morphs into a scream of agony, and Isabella’s spine stiffens. She slows and makes as if to turn and go after him, so I scoop her into my arms for the last few feet to the door. I push through the door, and take off like a bat out of hell away from the building.

I run for blocks and blocks, not stopping until the screams and eventual sirens fade into the distance. My legs burn, and I slow to a halt near a darkened alley. My chest heaves as I set down Isabella and try to catch my breath, gulping oxygen into my starved lungs.

“You have to go back,” she says, clutching my arm. “You have to help them. You have to help them all. I’ll hide here, behind that fence, but you—”

“Isabella,” I say softly, and her expression turns from one of determination to one of despair.

She begins to cry, and I pull her close, tucking her into my arm. She sobs for several minutes, working out the shock of what was probably the first act of violence she’d seen live. After a while, those sobs drift off into light sniffles, and I tilt her face toward mine.

“I can’t go back,” I say, and she nods with acceptance. “My mission is to protect you, and only you. Whatever is happening in that building, Jack and Leo can handle it.”

“Who was it?” she asked. “Who attacked us?”

“I think vampires, at least that’s what Buck confirmed. He took one out fairly quickly, so they couldn’t have been trained fighters or assassins. I don’t know who sent them.”

“And what happens now?” she asks, and for the first time, I feel the guilty burden of being someone’s Mate. I should have all the answers for her, and I don’t. I can’t make her worry go away.

“Well, we wait here while the fighting continues. Someone will reach out to us eventually, looking for you. If Jack or one of your guards gets free and still has their phone, they can track us that way. Either way, this dark, mysterious alley is the safest place right now.”

She laughs at that, and I kiss her forehead. We lower ourselves to the ground, and I fold her into my arms. “Try and rest,” I say. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“I know you will,” she murmurs, her voice thick with the heavy fatigue that comes after a great shock. “I know you will.”

* * *

Three hours later,a set of brisk footsteps echo down the alleyway. I untuck my arm from Isabella’s sleeping form and crouch in front of her, ready to pounce on the intruder. But a sliver of moonlight shows the intruder to be a tired and bruised Bastien wearing a Saints tee shirt and baggy gym shorts.

His green eyes are shadowed with purple, but they fill with relief when he spots us. Then, glancing around, he crouches down next to me so we can keep our voices to a whisper.

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