Claiming Trinity (21 page)

She shuddered and collapsed onto his chest with winded breath. “I’m sure I can get used to this.”

Trinity lay on Kane’s chest, cherishing the moment as long as she could. The pounding of his heart against her cheek and the stroke of Arawn’s hand along the length of her back sent tingles of excitement curling around her spine. She turned her head to glance at Arawn lying beside them and inched down and snuggled up between her gargoyle and immortal.

How fortunate she had become in the face of adversity. Her muscles loosened as she caught her breath, but her mind raced with all she had been through in such a short while. She had been brought to the brink of insanity, lost everyone she had ever loved, and was tormented by evil creatures for a family vendetta she had nothing to do with. She had even lost her career because of this catastrophe.

Now, she found herself mated to the two most, handsome, protective, and devoted men she had ever set eyes on and would live on this incredible island with a brand new career helping others heal from tragedy, all in less than a week? By the gods, they did work in mysterious ways.

“Yes, I can most definitely get used to this.”

Trinity kissed Kane’s cheek then twisted to the side and captured Arawn’s lips with a gentle kiss. Arawn snagged the sheets and draped them over the threesome. Trinity nestled in, Arawn peppered her shoulder with tender kisses, and Kane caressed her cheek as she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

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Prologue

Griffith yanked on the broken iron handle of the dingy wooden door and held it open for her. A blast of raunchy guitar riffs and heavy bass reverberated in her delicate ears. Klaya skulked inside to find what she expected from the local watering hole.

The retched gust of sour beer shot up her sensitive nose and brought bile to the back of her throat.

“Really?” She whipped around and glared at her older brother. “We couldn’t find someplace less…disgusting?”

“Come on, it’s Utah. It’s not like you’ll find swanky New York nightclubs here. Where’s your sense of adventure?” He chuckled and strolled ahead of her toward the grubby bar.

“Adventure? I don’t consider bathing in smelly filth an adventure.” She followed him as she grimaced.

A few steps in, she tripped on the uneven wooden floor and slammed into Griffith’s back. He spun around and steadied her with his hands on her shoulders. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” she retorted, eyeing the grimy rolled-copper bar.

Several patrons tittered and she glared at them. Some of the mangled wooden chairs were held together with tattered layers of silver duct tape. Most had spindles missing from the backs. Coasters tucked under the legs of the dozen or so square tables indicated an attempt to stop them from wobbling.

“Charming.” With another slow, cautious inhale, something else settled on her palate. She leaned close to her brother’s ear. “We aren’t the only shifters in here.”

“I know,” he replied. “I smell a wolf, too, but I don’t sense any danger.”

She counted sixteen patrons throughout the bar and one tall, gangly man with greasy blond hair and a tattered yellow T-shirt filling a pitcher with beer from a hose behind the counter. From every corner, the wall-mounted speakers pumped heavy metal music, torturing her tender ears.

“I’ll buy the first round, your favorite.” Griffith plopped down on a wooden stool at the bar and patted the empty seat beside him.

“Fine, but I doubt they’d serve a tequila sunrise here. Shots of booze and beer are all you’ll get.”

“It’s wet, and it’s booze. what’s the problem?” He snickered.

“You’re buying me more than one round.” She eased herself onto the uneven-legged barstool, the sticky grime on the surface snagging at the seat of her jeans. “For the record,” she hissed, “I hate you.”

“Barkeep,” Griffith called out over the noise. “A round of tequila shots and beers.” He gestured between the two of them. “And one for this guy at the end of the bar.”

The solitary drinker hunched over clutching a beer. Dark-haired, with a scowl marring his handsome features, the distinct presence of trouble and bitterness emanated from him. Amid the brash vibrations of the loud music and chatter, her acute hearing honed in on other sounds, including the clanking of beer bottles on table tops and scuffing of shoes across the bar floor. The occasional grunt from the guy at the end suggested he was in a foul mood, and likely, already inebriated.

“Are you sure he needs another?” She spoke close to her brother’s ear.

“Looks like he’s had a run of bad luck.” Griffith accepted the three shot glasses from the bartender and reached for the lime wedges in a bowl on the counter along with a shaker of salt. “Hey, buddy, care for a round?” He held up a glass.

The scowl lightened, and he picked up his beer and limped toward them, favoring his left leg.

“Thanks.” The man took the glass and tossed it back, snagged a lime, and sucked on it. “Mighty kind of you.”

He turned to leave, but her smartass brother couldn’t leave well enough alone. “The name is Griffith, and this is my little sister, Klaya.”

The man faced them and curled his lip. “Hi.”

Desperate to escape, she shifted to the edge of her barstool. “How ya doin’?”

“I’ve been better,” he slurred.

A powerful scent wafted up her nose.
I smell a wolf
. But she detected no danger from him whatsoever.

After a few more rounds of tequila, the slovenly stranger spilled his guts about being shunned from his town, explaining he was now on the run and his limp was a result of a gunshot by one of his father’s cronies. A profound sense of compassion filled Klaya, along with the heated trickle of alcohol down her solar plexus. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through all that, Drew.”

“Thanks.” He nodded. Now on the barstool between her and Griffith, he confided even more. “The worst is I can’t be with my Betty.”

“Hey, will you two be okay if I excuse myself for a second?” Griffith arched his brows. “Nature calls.”

“Sure.” She didn’t mind her new company. Knowing his story, she felt terrible for the guy. Klaya downed another shot of tequila and chased it with a beer. “I’m sure things will work out for you.”

“Cheers to that.” He clinked bottles with her then set his on the counter, and buried his head in his arms.

Klaya chuckled. The guy was going to hurt in the morning.

A massive man with exceptionally dirty, long, black hair and a bulky leather jacket took a seat on the stool on her other side. Based on his bone structure, dark eyes, and tanned complexion, she estimated him to be of Native American descent. His protruding forehead gave off a Cro-Magnon air, complementing his thick, undefined lips.

“Hey, Johnny boy,” he bellowed. “Gimme a beer and one for the lady.”

The bartender rushed over, popped the beer caps off with shaky hands, and slid them in front of the brute. “O-on the house, Jimmy.”

“I thought so.” The man leered at Klaya, slid a bottle in front of her, and then growled, “Hey, gorgeous. This is for you.”

She reeled back. “Uh…thanks, but I’ve got my own.” She held up her drink. “And I’m done for the night.” She inched away, nostrils stinging from his pungent body odor.

“You’ll have another.” He chugged his beer.

“No, I won’t.” She gritted her teeth. “But thank you.”

The Neanderthal slammed his bottle on the counter. “I bought you a drink. You should be grateful.”

“No, you bullied the bartender to get it for free, and you decided to tell me what to do. That’s not gonna happen, so disappear.” She let out a guttural growl of caution. Another unappealing whiff confirmed he was both human and grotesque. The barbarian loomed over her. “I said—”

“The lady told you to get lost.” Her new buddy managed to pull himself out of his drunken stupor and got to his feet. “Now, walk away from my friend here, or I’ll rip you from limb to limb,” Drew roared, teetering, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles whitened.

The gargantuan crowded over Drew and gave a vicious glower. He was no less than an entire foot taller than him with shoulders double his own width. Klaya glanced down. The tyrant’s feet were twice the size of Drew’s.
This will not end well
.

“Boys,” she grumbled and stood. Inserting herself as a barricade between the pending collision of testosterone, she glared up at her unwanted suitor. “There’s no need to cause a scene.”

“Then you’ll have the drink?”

“No.” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

Without warning, the man shot his right fist out over Klaya’s shoulder. A loud crack behind her was followed by a heavy thud on the floor.

A quick glance revealed her newfound friend out cold. “Are you kidding me?” She fired her left knee into the huge guy’s groin, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes, gripping his crotch and wheezing.

“I can’t leave you alone for a minute,” Griffith chuckled behind her.

Klaya swung around to find her brother lifting an unconscious Drew off the floor and slinging the lad’s arm over his shoulder.

“Well, are you gonna stick around for him to retaliate, or are you gonna help me get this guy out of here before he’s used as a mop for this filthy floor?”

“Now you take issue with the cleanliness?” she scoffed.

Still on his knees, Jimmy grabbed her wrist as she turned to follow her brother. She tugged out of his grasp, curled her fingers in and gave a hard pummel to his nose. Cro-Magnon man dropped flat on his back.