ROMANCE: Mason (Bad Boy Alpha Male Stepbrother Romance Boxset) (New Adult Contemporary Stepbrother Romance Collection) (154 page)

“Well, I was hoping she’d be around to see the show. I like it when wolves come out to play.” He was trying to draw me out, but as long as he kept talking I would be okay. As long as he stayed off the topic of Gemma. He realized he was shooting in the dark, misfiring, and he changed his angle.

“Ever wonder why she appeared on the radar out of nowhere?” he asked me. I didn’t grace him with an answer. To me she hadn’t appeared out of nowhere. She’d been on my radar since the beginning. “I guess superstars all come from somewhere. Pity they don’t always amount to something, even when they’re rich and famous. Some people will always be nothing.”

Shape shifters were insulters. They weren’t much to look at as human, but they had venom on their tongues. They liked to themselves into trouble as humans, and fight their way out as animals or objects. Shape shifters could take any form like liked, and they could animate any object they turned into, making a room full of shifters look a little bit like a haunted house.

“Pity she doesn’t have a boyfriend. All that booty going to waste,” he said again. We were still facing off, and I hadn’t been affected by his words. But the comment about her body again got me riled up. My skin rippled from my head to my toes, goose bumps breaking out of me skin. My lip twitched. I fought a snarl, but the shifter had noticed. He’d found his topic.

“Maybe that’s because she has all she needs right in front of her,” he said, smiling now. “A man like you must have more than enough to offer for someone like her. You’re twice her size and I bet she can really get going in the bedroom.”

I took a deep breath and held it from three counts before exhaling, and then doing it again. The shifter’s face split into a full smile now.

“Yes, I think that’s what it’s about. The bodyguard is getting more than his share. Aren’t you big boy? You’re protecting her from everything out there, and giving it all to her when the doors are closed. Why I—“

He couldn’t finish his sentence because the wolf had ripped free. The change had been so sudden I was still trying to find which way was up, but in cases like this, where I was fuelled by fury, the wolf took over and I was just along for the ride.

My wolf launched at the shifter. He laughed a cackling kind of laughed that danced all around me like it was everywhere at once. On my skin. Inside my head. The next moment he was a wolf too. He matched my wolf in size, but he didn’t have the raw muscle power I did. As a wolf I trained hard to be like this. As a human I trained even harder. This shifter hadn’t trained at all. His tongue was his weapon.

He launched at me with fangs bared and I answered with a snarl, snapped my jaws. He was faster that he looked and his mouth found my leg, breaking skin. I could feel the blood run down my leg, but I shook it off. I attacked him again, wrestling him down to the ground before he could get up and attack again. He had speed on his side, I had bulk. If I wasn’t careful he could get to me. I was on him, my mouth going for his throat. If I were in control I didn’t know if I would have done it, if I would have had what it took to bite right through the spine. But I wasn’t in control. The wolf had decided for me.

It was going to kill the shifter.

A flash of light and the singeing feeling searing heat on my skin changed him under me. Suddenly the shifter was a bear, large and bulky with a muzzle that scared me. He rolled over and I tumbled off him like a bag of bones. I shook myself and jumped at him again, but he aimed carefully and with one blow he smacked me across the tarmac. I hit a wall and my vision blurred, black spots dancing all over.

Between the spots in front of my eyes I saw the bear come closer. The beady black eyes promised death. I tried to push myself up but I couldn’t handle my weight, they quick change had taken too much out of me to recover immediately. I braced myself for the bite or blow that would kill me, when a car honked. The shifter whipped his head around, then changed into an eagle and flew away.

Claude got out of the car and rushed to me.

“Colt,” he breathed. He knew. Thank got there was someone. I closed my eyes and forced a change, even though that would hurt me more, set me back for a day or two. But I couldn’t let Gemma see me like this. When I was in human form again every bone in my body ached, both from the quick shifts and the fight. My one shoulder was drenched in blood and I was sure I had a concussion.

“Where’s Miss LaGrange?” he asked.

“Inside,” I croaked and sagged against the wall. I hoped she was still alive. If there had been anything in there it would be too late, I would have failed her. But the door suddenly swung open and Gemma rushed out, noticing the car, Claude, and then me.

“Colt, oh my god,” she said and collapsed next to me. “You’re hurt.”

I shook my head. I wanted to say ‘it was nothing’ but that was a lie. I was very hurt and it wasn’t nothing at all.

“Help me get him in the car,” Claude said to her, and for once Gemma didn’t have a fit about how he spoke to her. Together they managed to move me, even though it hurt like hell, and they got me in the car.

Gemma

Colt was in his bed, the covers tucked under his chin so only his face was visible. Even under the covers it was easy to see how big his body was by tracing the outline. His feet hung off the bed. I made a mental note to order an extra-long base and mattress when he was better – I couldn’t believe I’d never been in his room before. I always relied on servants to do what needed to be done, and preparing his room had been no different.

Colt’s face was a mess, he had bruises all down the one side of his face and a black eye that made him look rough. I sat next to the bed with a bowl of broth I’d brought up for him myself, but he was asleep. His eyes looked sunken into his head, with dark circles around both.

I knew a bodyguard was for protection, and that meant that sometimes they would get hurt. But I didn’t want it to be like that. I felt personally responsible. I sat there for a while.

“Hey,” his hoarse voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked at him. His good eyes was half-open. The black eye was still swollen shut.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Better. I’ll be right as rain in no time,” he said and tried to smile. It looked like it hurt.

“I’m sorry about this,” I said. He closed his eye and shook his head slightly, wincing when he did.

“Don’t be sorry. This is part of the job,” he said. It sounded like it was sore just to speak. He swallowed hard and made a chewing motion with his mouth. I knew it was part of the job, but I felt guilty. Who was I? And I was asking people to risk their lives for me. It was all good and well when it came down to the theory of it. But when it really happened, when my bodyguard was bruised and hurt, and had narrowly escaped death, it wasn’t so much fun anymore.

“Will you tell me what happened?” I asked. Claude hadn’t been there until the very end. He’d told me he’d found Colt alone. “Claude didn’t have much he could say.”

Colt took a deep breath like he was bracing himself for something. I wondered how much he would downplay so he wouldn’t scare me.

“It was just a crazy fan. He wanted to get in to see you, and when I stopped him he pulled out a baton. You know… some people. Claude was the one that chased him away, actually.”

I nodded. “He said that he’d arrived just as the guy had left. I’ll file a report—“ I started but Colt cut me off.

“Don’t,” he said. “It’s not necessary.”

“But someone attacked you. Someone wanted to attack me. He beat you to a pulp… we can’t just let that slide.”

“Just let it go, okay? It’s nothing. What can the police do, anyway? They’re not going to find him. He’s probably in China by now. We’ve waited too long.”

I nodded and looked at my hands. I’d been too busy trying to make Colt comfortable to think about contacting the police straight away. Maybe Colt was right. It could be too late.

I frowned. Colt was a big guy. And the man that had come had looked so skinny. How was it possible that he had beaten Colt up?

“Are you telling me everything?” I asked. “You can’t lie to me about this.”

Colt hesitated before he nodded. I wasn’t sure about it. He’d refused a doctor, too. I kept feeling like there was something I was missing, something important.

“Do you want some broth?” I asked. “Francois prepared it especially. He’s very fond of you.”

“And I’m fond of his cooking,” Colt said. I helped him have a few mouthfuls, but then he dropped his head again.

“I’ll let you rest,” I said and left the room. Outside his room I leaned against the closed door and buried my face in my hands. I hated seeing him like this. He was always my pillar of strength, the person I relied on to do the worrying for me so didn’t have to. Seeing him like that, bruised and weak in bed, made me feel like I wanted to cry. I wished I could replace him with another body guard so that I could just be friends with him. Or something.

But I couldn’t. I needed him to keep me safe, and if I got another bodyguard I would never see Colt again. I had to hold on to him for both our sake.

A week later Colt was on his feet again and back on duty. It was the quickest recovery I’d ever seen. His bruises were still there faintly, but he moved around like nothing was wrong. I had a charity performance and he made sure to organize a group of guards that would be around the stage all the time. I’d been petrified something like that would happen again, and he’d contacted the agency that had found him for me.

The performance was a hit. The crowd was alive with its own pulse, and most of them knew my lyrics off by heart. I loved live performances. I loved connecting with people. It made me feel complete.

During the intermission three fans were brought backstage to meet me. They’d won the right on a radio station. All three were teenage girls. Two of them looked like they were going to faint on the spot. The third was composed with black hair and black eyes.

She reminded me of myself. When I looked into her eyes a pang shot through my body, like someone had physically punched me. She didn’t want an autograph, and when I asked her name she just shook her head. The other two buried me in questions and yelps and I signed every piece of paper they pushed at me.

When Colt ushered them out again, I looked up at him. He frowned. He could see I was trying to communicate to him with my eyes, but he didn’t know what I was saying. I didn’t even know what I was saying. I drank water and it was time for me to go out onto the stage again.

An applause greeted me, but I felt like I was inside a bubble. Everything was removed. I felt far away, detached and emotionless. Like something had been sucked right out of me. It went downhill from there. The crowd, in tune and connected before, was irritated and out of control now. A fight broke out in the corner that threw me off. In the front row a whole bunch of girls stood with their hands up at me, screaming my name, but it suddenly sounded like cursing, like they were accusing me of something. I shook my head and tried to focus on the lyrics, but I struggled to keep track.

By some miracle I managed to finish the show. When I went backstage my skin was burning, I felt flush like I had a fever, and I hoped I would pass out. If there was something wrong with me at least it would be an excuse for being such a mess.

“That was great, Miss LaGrange,” a stylist congratulated me.

“Well done,” a lighting engineer beamed.

“They love you,” Colt said behind me. His voice was the only anchor I had to draw me back. I shivered and turned around. “You were great.”

“It was terrible,” I admitted to him. “From where I was standing it looked like no one liked it at all. Since after the intermission.”

“You’re wrong. You did great. Look at them out there.” He held the curtain aside for me and I peeked through. I imagined he saw a bustling crowd chanting my name for an encore. I saw a mob that called for my beheading. I knew what was happening.

This was all in my head. Someone was playing with my mind, and I knew people who could do that. Hell, I’d done that.

My mind jumped to the girl backstage straight away. Her haunted eyes, no name. I wondered why I hadn’t recognized it straight away.

“I’m going to freshen up before we leave,” I told Colt. He nodded and followed me to my dressing room where he stopped outside the door. I let myself in. I fought the urge to lock the door. I didn’t want anyone to get to me, but if something happened Colt had to be able to jump in. In the bathroom adjacent to my changing room I splashed cold water on my face. The make-up the stylist had applied so thickly for the lights and the cameras ran down my cheeks in thick black strikes. I looked like something that had escaped from horror movie.

Well, that was ironic, I thought.

Something was knocked over in the changing room that sounded like someone was in there.

“Who’s there?” I asked. Maybe a stylist had let herself in, but there was no answer. I wiped away the stripes on my cheeks with toilet paper, trying to mop it up as best I could, and dried my face with a towel. When I stepped back into the room I froze.

The girl was there, with her black hair and dead eyes, staring at me.

“How did you get in here?” I asked. There was no way Colt would have let her in. She didn’t answer me. She stared at me like she wasn’t registering anything. I wondered if she was alive.