Leopard's Kiss (Shadow Guardians) (Shadows Guardians Book 1) (21 page)

"It's not your fault, Anya." He didn't lift his head from the crook of her neck, but his arms tightened around her. "You didn't choose me as your guardian. That choice was made."

"But I made you feel."

"Lots of people have tried to make me feel, and you're the only one who succeeded, but it wasn't because of superficial crap." He looked up then, his eyes bloodshot and weary. "You were simply yourself," he said, his voice rough. "You should never hide who you are." He ran his knuckles along her jaw, his gaze searching hers with raw, open emotion. "You're beautiful, in a thousand different ways. I've never been around someone so genuine and open. You're a rare gem, and you should be treasured, not shamed for who you are."

Tears filled her eyes.
I love you.
She knew he didn't want the words, but she needed to say them to herself, to acknowledge how deeply he'd touched her.

But he went still, utterly and completely still, his face losing all expression. "What?"

She blinked. "I didn't say anything." But even as she said it, she realized she'd forgotten about their psychic connection. Had he heard her thoughts?

E
very muscle
in Slade's body went taut, suspended in frozen animation. He knew what he'd heard. He knew exactly what Anya had thought.
She loved him.
A part of him wanted to fall to his knees and surrender himself to her, to the gift she'd offered him, to pour his own heart into her. And another part of him, the grittier part, wanted to sweep her mind instantly, ridding her of every last memory she had of him. To chase her out of his life before all hell could rain down upon them.

But he did neither. He couldn't do either one of them. Surrendering was too dangerous. Severing his ties to her made the most sense, but the mere thought of being without her made his lungs tighten until it was difficult to breathe.

So, he did nothing. He simply went still, barely holding his shit together, his mind a frenzied mess as he fought to clear it. Somehow, the realization that she loved him made all the pain greater and more intense, because failing her now was the ultimate betrayal to her. She gave him her love, and if he let her die, it was like stabbing her in the heart and shredding the fragile trust she'd given to him.

But at the same time, knowing that she loved him seemed to seal up the holes in his soul. It was a fragile thread weaving it back together, infinitely breakable, but somehow, some way, he felt stronger now, as if her love somehow shielded him from the pain that had nearly destroyed him.

How could her love weaken him and strengthen him at the same time? He didn't know, but he didn't care. It was a gift, an unthinkable, beautiful treasure that he knew he would hold onto with every fiber of his being from this moment until the day he died.

She looked terrified, afraid that he'd heard her. He realized she didn't want him to know. She wanted to hide it, so they could both pretend it wasn't true. He couldn't pretend he hadn't heard it. He'd never forget it. Ever. And he didn't want to. But he sure as hell didn't want to put it on the table. It was too heavy to deal with right now.

So, he forced himself to step back, lowering her carefully to the ground. The sight of her half-naked with flushed cheeks made his cock get hard again instantly, and he scowled, yanking his pants back up. What was wrong with him, wanting to fuck her all the time when there was major shit going down? Because that's all it could be. Fucking. He just... "When this is over," he said. "I'm going to wipe your mind of all of this."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"It's too dangerous—"

"Hey! I am so over that inane idea!" She slammed her palm against his chest, hitting hard enough to make him step back. "You don't have the right to do that! It's my life, not yours, and you don't get to choose what I remember. If you walk away, I still have the same enemies I had before, and all your enemies will already know that we're connected. If you strip my mind, then I won't be ready and I'll be easy prey." Her eyes flashed with anger. "Just because you can't handle the fact you care doesn't mean you get to endanger me." She threw up her hands in frustration. "I am sick and tired of that crap, Slade. You know damn well you don't want me to forget you, so just stop it! I'm going to go steal pants from your closet, and then we're going to figure out a plan that actually makes sense!"

He smiled at her outburst. He couldn't help himself. She was just so damned unimpressed with his power and his decisions. She treated him like a regular guy, and he absolutely loved it.

She didn't appreciate his smile, and she pointed her finger at him. "Don't you
dare
try to mess with my mind. Killian showed you that it doesn't always work, and you do
not
want to piss me off." Still glaring at him, she strode out of the room, yelling at Killian that she was half-naked and he better close his eyes when she walked by.

Slade watched her go, running his hand through his hair. She was right. If he wiped her mind or Killian's, he was putting them in more danger. He'd have to wipe their existence from every person who'd ever heard of them, and that was beyond his scope.

There was no going back.

There was no going back.

Slade sat down hard in his desk chair and pressed his face to his palms as the reality of the situation settled on him. He could never go back to his old life, to his isolated existence, to a life where no one knew him. Anya and Killian would be in danger forever from their association with him, even if he wiped their memories. They
had
to remember, which meant they had to remember him, and he had to remember them. Forever, he and Anya would both remember that she'd said she loved him.

Jesus.
What had he done?

But it didn't matter what he'd done. It was over. Everything he knew was closed to him now. When this was over, what the hell was he supposed to do? Could he shut himself down emotionally like he had before, knowing that out there somewhere were Killian and Anya, remembering him? Knowing him? How could he go back to that isolated life after having had them both in his space, in his life, screwing everything up? "Why the hell did you pick me?" he shouted out loud to the red-haired woman he'd seen in the bar. "Why me?"

Of course, she didn't answer. It was just him, alone in the office he'd assembled so carefully, making it exactly how he liked it. It had been perfection, but now, it was chaotic, messy, and crowded…and so much richer. When he looked at the books scattered on the floor, he could think only of how it felt to be with Anya. When he breathed deep, Killian's scent slid through him, heavy in the air.

Sighing, he rubbed his forehead, trying to think. The only way out of this situation was to discharge his duty with Anya. He was to be her guardian, which meant keeping her safe...until when? It had to be when the threat was over. Which threat? The bastard who killed his family? Until he was dead?

Slade thought about that for a moment, and the longer he thought about it, the more right it felt. He wasn't trained at keeping people alive, but he was the best in existence at killing people. So, that was why he'd been selected. Because he knew this situation, and because he was the only one capable of killing the bastard he'd been hunting since he was nine. He'd failed his whole life, but the playing field had changed. Anya and Killian were a part of the game now...a deadly game that would endanger all of them. Could he really bring them into it?

Killian appeared in the doorway. He was dressed entirely in black, wearing clothing that looked suspiciously like the custom fabrics Slade used for his own clothes. "Are those mine?"

"Yeah." The pants and shirt fit Killian as if they were made for him. He'd slicked his hair back, but left his jaw unshaven. Nothing could hide the dangerous glitter in his eyes. He looked every bit the predator, not a younger brother that needed protecting.

Slade looked at his brother, and knew it was time to stop protecting him. He couldn't go backward. He had to go forward. They both had to go forward. He took a deep breath, and then he began to talk. "The name of the man who murdered our parents and our sister is William Parker. He specializes in kidnapping, breeding, and selling shifters. Dad crossed him many times when he was trying to break the ring. He couldn't get Dad, so he killed Mom and Jessica. You, me, and Dad weren't home."

Killian stilled, watching Slade intently. "William Parker," he repeated, his deep voice rolling through the name as if he were tasting it. "I ran across that name while I was searching for you, but I couldn't find any information on him." He looked at Slade. "You think he killed my family?"

"I don't know about that, but Dad went into hiding to protect us, but Parker found us anyway. He killed Dad while I was out in the woods with you. When we came back, he was still there, and he heard us. He knew we were out there, somewhere. He hunted us for days, but never found us. I left you at the church, and I took off."

Killian walked into the room and sat down in an armchair, never taking his gaze off Slade's face. His eyes were blazing with hunger, with the need to finally find out the truth. At last, Slade understood why Killian had been able to evade Slade's memory wipe. His brother's drive to find out the truth of who he was and where he'd come from had driven him to become stronger and more powerful, until all that was left was a man as determined as Slade was.

"I was going to come get you once Parker was dead," Slade said. "But I never found him. I was always too late. All I ever found were the remnants of his crimes, the shadows of his existence. Never the man." He rubbed his hand over the mark on his palm from the dart. "He was at the warehouse tonight. He walked up behind me while I was watching you, put a gun to my head, and called me by name. Said he'd been waiting."

Killian leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. His right knee was bouncing restlessly, the only indication of his reaction to the information. He said nothing. He simply waited for the rest, showing the patience of a true leopard, willing to lie in wait for as long as it took to guarantee victory.

"That warehouse was one of his, which means he's behind the kidnapping of Anya's friend—" Slade saw Anya appear in the doorway. She was wearing a pair of his running tights, which cupped her ass much too well.

"Keep going," she said as she walked into the room. "William Parker."

He raised his brows. "You were listening?"

"Of course." She sat in the chair beside Killian, also perching on the edge. "Continue."

Slade looked back and forth between his brother and Anya. Their attention was fixed on him, their faces desperate for the truth, a truth he'd held inside for so long. He realized that it felt right to bring them into it, to share it with them, to build a team with the only two people in the world he trusted. He nodded at Anya. "Your mom and Marjorie kept you girls hidden throughout your life. No one could have known that you and Julia were shifters, right? Unless they knew to look for you."

Anya shook her head. "Julia had shifted a few times, but only when we were in the woods, alone, with no one around. But maybe someone—"

"No." Slade had no doubt. His gut was screaming to him about what was right. "If Parker ended up with Julia, that means he knew she existed, which means he knew your mom and Marjorie."

Anya's eyes widened. "So, he's the one they were running from."

Slade leaned forward, and said the words he didn't want to say. "They were pregnant when they ran, right?"

"Yes." Her voice faded, and she gripped the chair. "You don't think he—"

Her question trailed off, and Killian whistled softly as he looked at her.

"When my mom was kidnapped by him, he allowed only his sperm to be used on the white leopards," Slade said. "He wanted the strongest genes for his prize captures, and he believed they were his."

Anya's face paled. "You think
he
impregnated my mom and Marjorie? That he's my biological father?"

"I think so."

"Oh, God." Anya looked like she was going to be sick. "And Julia's, too."

"Which means..." He swore, not wanting to say this. "He may be psychically connected with you. He may be able to track you, like I can track Killian, and he was always aware of me. He may have been tracking you all along, waiting for you to shift before he made his move."

Anya stood up, shaking her head. "You're just guessing. You don't know any of this, right? You're just connecting dots that could fit together another way! Why would he wait? If he knew where I was and what I was, why wouldn't he just grab me from the start?"

Slade glanced at Killian, and he saw confirmation on his brother's face. "I don't know it for sure," he agreed, "but I never trust facts to guide my decisions. Facts can be manipulated, but energy can't. Energy is real, and it carries messages that our conscious minds can't process. I always base my decisions on my gut instincts, and I'm always right."

Anya looked back and forth between them. "You agree with him?" she asked Killian.

He nodded. "It feels right in my gut as well. Everything fits."

"Nothing fits!" She paced away from them, wrapping her arms around her torso. "It doesn't even matter. We just need to find Julia." She whirled toward Slade. "You said you picked up a trace of Julia. Can you follow it? Can't we just do that?"

"I could find her if I were near her." Slade punched a few buttons on the computer screen, and suddenly a gorgeous, classic mansion appeared on the screen. It was gleaming white, with lawns worthy of the White House, and stone pillars that stretched three stories high.

Anya knew that building. Everyone knew it. "The Winchester Mansion?" It had once been home to an old, well-funded New York family, but had been turned into a museum of sorts, and a place where the most wealthy elite held black tie affairs with private guest lists consisting of celebrities and the others of equal social and financial standing. Only certain spaces were open to the public, and the rest were under private control.

Slade braced his hands on the desk, staring at the screen. "William Parker is hosting a charity auction for animal rights tonight. It's his event." He looked up, meeting Killian's gaze.

"He'll be there tonight," Anya said softly, dread welling up. "So, when they attack us here, he has an alibi."

A slow smile spread across Killian's face. "He won't be expecting us to join the party."

Slade grinned. "No. He thinks we're trapped inside here. We're not."

Anya clenched her fists. "We're going
inside
the museum? We're going
to
him?" She swallowed hard, fear making it difficult to breathe. This was the man she'd run from her
entire
life, the one she'd been trained to flee since the day she was born. They were going
to
him?

"No. You're not. You're staying here." But even as he said it, she felt the hesitation in Slade's voice.

She looked at him. "You're no longer positive this place is secure, are you? If they can find the location, maybe they can find their way in."

"They won't." Again, there was the faintest of hesitation, one that she noticed only because she knew him so well.