Leopard's Kiss (Shadow Guardians) (Shadows Guardians Book 1) Read online

  “I’ll go back. Not you.” The engine revved as they hurtled down the highway. “You can’t be near there. They’ll know what you are in an instant. If they realize what you are, they will stop at nothing to acquire you.” He looked over at her. “No one knows about you, do they? That’s why only Julia was taken.”

  “I don’t even know if I am one.” She sat up, alarmed as she suddenly realized the implication of his plan “You’re going to leave me alone while you go back?” Even as she asked it, she felt like a fool. Since when was she afraid to be on her own? Since she’d acquired a demon assassin and experienced the depravity of the world that had been hunting her for so long.

  “There’s one place you’ll be safe.” He didn’t look at her, and didn’t slow down. “It’s not far.”

  Anya leaned back against the seat, and took a deep breath. Her hands were still shaking from being in the warehouse. She looked out the window at the guardrail hurtling past, trying to process what she’d seen, to correlate it with everything she’d learned from her mother over the years.

  Slade said nothing, but his face was intense and focused, and she knew he was doing the same thing she was.

  Finally, she broke the silence. “You’ve been there before?”

  “Not to that one. To others.” He exited the highway, the wheels screeching on the ramp as he sped off it, racing through streets that were almost empty at this late hour. “There’s a black market for shifters, Anya. It’s powerful and ruthless, and involves a lot of high rollers. Money. Lots of it.”

  “And how do you know about it?”

  He sped down a ramp toward a closed garage door. Anya flinched, gripping the door handle as they got closer and closer to the closed door, still moving quickly. “Slade—”

  The door opened at the last second, admitting them just before they crashed into it. He didn’t slow down, hurtling straight toward another closed garage door. She grimaced, tensing as they sped toward it, but that also opened at the last moment, averting a head-on collision that would have killed her.

  “Oh, God.” She took a deep breath, trying to relax. “Is it possible for you to be a little less terrifying when you drive?”

  He glanced over at her, his dark eyebrows going up in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

  It figured. The man was so entwined with speed that he couldn’t even comprehend that hurtling top speed toward a solid wall could be daunting. “Never mind.” She twisted around, watching the door close behind them just as fast. As she turned forward, yet another garage door appeared.

  This time, even though she knew that it was going to open, she still couldn’t keep from grimacing or pulling back as the car hurtled toward the garage door. It opened again just long enough for them to speed through, but this time, as it closed, she felt Slade watching her.

  “It’s timed to precision,” he said. “I can’t slow down or we’ll crash. Just close your eyes.”

  She glanced over at him, surprised that he’d actually taken time to register her fear. “You’re not as insensitive as you want to be, you know.” She decided to watch him instead of the next door they were approaching. How many damned doors were there anyway?

  His jaw tightened. “I’m extremely insensitive. I’m an expert at it.”

  She almost laughed at his tension. “It’s okay to notice the emotions of others, Slade. It’s a good thing.”

  He glanced over at her as his car shot through another garage door. “No, it’s not. It’s the most dangerous thing I could ever do. Don’t try to make it happen. Understand?”

  There was a desperation in his voice that made her heart turn over, making her wonder, once again, how he had gone from a boy who noticed his mom’s flowers to the man who took lives without hesitation. She nodded. “I understand,” she said softly, sighing to herself when she saw his shoulders relax slightly.

  A man who couldn’t afford to feel. She’d never met anyone who didn’t want to feel. She couldn’t imagine how empty his life was…but at the same time, a part of her envied him. Wouldn’t it be great not to live in terror? Not to awaken in the middle of the night having a panic attack that she’d never find Julia? To never have to worry that if she stopped running, that the weight of her grief would crush her so severely she’d never be able to stand up again?

  She sighed, leaning back in her seat as she watched their progress through the tunnel. She counted ten doors that they sped through, each of them taking them deeper and deeper underground. Eerie green lights marked their way, casting them in a sea-green glow as he drove deeper.

  Finally, Slade eased the car to a stop in front of a cement wall. The garage door slid shut behind them, and then the platform the car was on began to rise, moving quickly and silently upward, like an elevator. He unfastened his seat belt and opened his door as the platform continued to rise. “Let’s go.”

  “Where are we?” Anya hurriedly unfastened her seat belt, and stepped out of the car just as the platform stopped beside a set of massive steel double doors.

  Ignoring her question, Slade walked over to them, looking up at a flashing light above the door. She felt that same mental push from him, and then the doors slid open, as if he’d opened the doors with his mind, which he probably had. “Come on in.” He stepped through the doors without looking back, and without waiting for her. His shoulders were tense, and his voice was clipped. “Welcome to my home.”

  Chapter 12

  Slade didn’t want Anya in his home.

  He wanted to toss her back into his car and pretend he’d never made this choice.

  But he didn’t.

  He just stepped back, letting her walk past him into the foyer of his sanctuary, the safe house he most considered home, the one that was so well-hidden that no one could ever find it, unless he showed it to them. It was his private oasis, the place where he could relax completely, where his solitude was unbroken.

  No one had ever touched the inside of the place. He’d built it himself, unwilling to allow a single person to know it existed. It was pure and complete isolation, and yet he’d just let Anya into it.

  What the hell was he thinking?

  His pulse hammering out of control, he folded his arms across his chest and watched her as she walked into the entryway, her eyes wide as she scanned it. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

  Some of the tension eased from him, and he shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not okay. It’s beautiful.” She walked over to the Picasso that he’d hung by the door, leaning forward to study it. “It’s an original, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” He shifted, uncomfortable. “Let’s go in. Come on.” He walked to the French doors that separated the foyer from the rest of the place, and pulled them open. But when he turned to allow her to precede him, he found her standing in front of the Van Gogh that he’d added just last year.

  His heart skipped when he saw her expression. She was completely riveted by the drawing, her lips parted in silent awe as she studied it. Her expression was completely unguarded, enchanted by the drawing that he’d coveted for so long before he’d finally acquired it. He knew instantly that she saw the same beauty in it that he did. It was a long-forgotten sketch, one that only a handful of people even knew existed. It wasn’t famous, it wasn’t prestigious, but it was raw and powerful in its beauty and expression.

  He walked over and stood beside her, studying the sketch again. He hadn’t been here in months, despite the fact it was his favorite place to be. It simply didn’t fit his life to stay in the same place for long, but that meant he didn’t get to see the things he’d acquired that mattered to him.

  Like the sketch. It had taken him years to convince its owner to sell it to him, yet he’d studied it only a few times since he’d acquired it. The isolation of the landscape was bitter, and the silence of the peasant farmer was raw as he fought the arid earth to forge a survival in a world that meant nothing. Slade had felt a connection to it the moment he’d seen it
on one of his missions, recognizing the author of the unsigned work instantly.

  “It’s the same kind of loneliness that surrounds you,” Anya said quietly as she lifted her finger to trace the shape of the man. “It breathes the anguish of a parched earth and shattered soul, trying desperately to find one drop of water or ray of sunshine to sustain life.”

  Slade’s throat tightened as her words raked over him, articulating exactly what he’d felt when he’d first seen it. “It’s just a drawing.”

  “Liar.” Her voice was soft, non-judgmental. “It’s how you feel every day, isn’t it? You’re that peasant farmer, even though you’re surrounded by luxury, money, and have the freedom to do anything you want.”

  “I’m not a peasant farmer.” He stepped back and scowled at her. “Come on. Let’s go in.”

  She turned to face him, her hands on her hips. “This life you live is going to break you,” she said, watching him. “It already is. No one can live completely alone, without any kind of connection to anyone.”

  Emotions warred within, trying to be heard and felt, emotions he wanted no part of. “I’m not alone,” he said.

  Her eyebrows went up. “No?”

  “I have you, don’t I? Irritating me, invading my privacy, and forcing me to save instead of kill.”

  She studied him, and then a small smile curved her mouth, a smile that made his heart skip a beat. She was just so damned enchanting, so dismissive of the darkness of the life he worked so hard to lead.

  “Hell,” he whispered, moving closer to her. “I don’t need this from you.”

  She lifted her chin so she was looking up at him, unafraid, unabashed, and unrepentant even though he was crowding her. “I think you do, Slade. Maybe I’m the one who was sent to be your guardian, and not the other way around.”

  He fisted a lock of her hair, tugging on it. “I don’t need to be saved.”

  “We all need to be saved,” she said, not pulling away. “From different things, yes, but we all need to be saved.” She put her hand on his chest, over his heart. His muscles twitched beneath her palm. “You need to fill that horrible emptiness inside you before it eats away at you completely.”

  He didn’t need this kind of psychotherapy. He really didn’t. He knew that he should just turn his back and cut her off, not even acknowledging her. But he couldn’t. There was just something about her that compelled him, something that made him want to drop to his knees and beg her…for what, he didn’t know, but there was something she had that he needed desperately. Something he wanted. Something he burned for so deeply that it hurt. “And you? What do you need?” He slid his hand around to the back of her neck and drew her closer, so close that he could feel her breath against his mouth.

  “To save Julia,” she whispered.

  “No.” He grasped her jaw, his finger sliding along her skin. “What’s broken inside you so badly that you can’t breathe anymore? What shadow follows you everywhere you go, every second of your life? What’s your secret, my white leopard?”

  Tears swam in her eyes, but she tightened her jaw. “I’m not broken.”

  “Then neither am I. We’re both a couple of winners.” Then, before he could change his mind, and before she could pull away, he kissed her.

  Slade’s mouth was decadent temptation. His kiss was pure power, sliding through her like a predator taking control of his prey. It was his death kiss…only it wasn’t. She could feel the heat pouring from him into her, as if he were offering part of his soul instead of taking hers.

  She knew she shouldn’t kiss him again. But just like before, the feel of his mouth on hers was impossible to resist. Her entire body craved his, her soul ached for connection, and her skin tingled with the need for his touch.

  He was broken, an empty wasteland where his soul had once been, but she knew there was something else inside him, something fighting to stay alive in the arid desert that consumed him.

  Anya. His voice caressed her mind, slipping into her consciousness with silky ease as he slid his fingers through her hair. His touch, his kiss, and his voice were so gentle, touching her heart in a way that his rough, against-the-wall seduction hadn’t been able to.

  She leaned into him, fisting the front of his jacket as she kissed him back, unable to tear herself away from him. His body was sheer muscle, shrouded in darkness and strength. He was a mystery, a shadow, a man who didn’t exist…and yet he was solid and strong beneath her palms. He was real, at least for her, a killer who stole life more easily than he gave it…and yet, his kiss seemed to ignite something inside her. Something fierce. Something brave. Something that fit her more than spending a life running away did.

  He pulled her closer against him, deepening the kiss. With a sigh, she capitulated, allowing herself to melt into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her nipples aching at the feel of his hard chest against her breasts. Heat flushed her body—

  “Shit.” He pulled back suddenly, jerking his hands back from her. “Sorry.”

  She blinked, trying to regain her equilibrium. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.” He ran his hand through his hair, looking unsettled, an emotion she doubted he felt very often. “I almost killed you in my safe house, and I wasn’t even trying. I can’t risk it. I have no control when it comes to you.” He glared at her, as if it were her fault, and then he spun around, jerked open the French doors, and strode into the main part of his home.

  Anya stared after him, startled by his display of emotion. Then, the faintest ray of hope began to blossom inside her. The Black Swan was coming to life, for her. Because of her. She was beginning to matter to him. Her chest tightened, and she had to swallow back the sudden lump in her throat. She couldn’t believe how incredible it felt to matter, to have someone who cared, despite his best efforts not to. She’d lived in fear her whole life, on the run, and now, suddenly, she had someone in her corner who believed in standing strong and fighting back, who was willing to help her do it.

  Strength seemed to pour through her, and she pulled her shoulders back. She might be weakening him by making him more human, but he was giving her self-confidence and courage she’d never had before. The horrible shifter holding center that she’d had nightmares about her entire life had finally become a reality, and yet, for the first time she could recall, she didn’t feel scared.

  She felt strong, and she owed it to Slade.

  Chapter 13

  Slade didn’t turn around when he heard Anya’s soft footsteps enter the kitchen. He never allowed anyone to approach him from behind, but with her, he didn’t need to turn around. He trusted her completely. Already, he knew the sound of her walk intimately, and knew exactly where she was, how fast she was moving, and what her mood was. He could envision the sway of her hips as she walked. He knew the way her hair was curling over her shoulder. He could already see the way her mouth was pressed tight, as if she were trying to hold back what she wanted to say.

  She strode into the kitchen and took a seat at one of the black leather bar stools by the center island. “Why do you have four stools if you’ve never let anyone in here before?”

  He took a dish of chicken stir-fry casserole out of the freezer. He didn’t bother to ask how she knew he’d never let anyone in there before. He just liked that she’d figured it out. He wanted her to know that the fact she was in his house was a statement of exactly how deeply he trusted her. Not that he trusted her, because he never trusted anyone, but yeah, she was here, and that was big. “Because I like it that way.” He flipped on the oven and tossed the pan into it. “You want something to drink?”

  She raised her brows at his answer. “Water would be great.”

  He thought of what she’d ordered in the bar. “No tequila this time?” He glanced over at her, and for a split second, all thoughts fled from his mind. Her elbows were on the counter, her chin propped up in her hands, her eyes at half-mast as she watched him. In his kitchen, on his stool, taking up space he’d never allowe
d anyone to occupy. The scene was so intimate and domestic that he froze, emotions warring between raw terror and a fierce longing.

  Her eyes widened at his expression, and her breath caught. “You’re afraid of me? Why?”

  He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and took a long swig. He braced his hands on the counter, trying to pull himself together. “Chicken okay with you? It’s all I’ve got in the freezer. I haven’t made anything new in a while.”

  Her gaze flicked to the oven. “You bake casseroles and freeze them?”

  “I like to minimize the number of times I leave here when I’m in town. I make a supply so I don’t need to go out and get food.” He turned away and grabbed a glass from his cabinet. All his glasses were pristine and unused, covered with a light coating of dust. He grabbed one and shoved it under the faucet to rinse it off. The finest crystal available, and no one had ever used them before. “No big deal.”

  She said nothing, and the silence stretched for so long that he finally looked over at her. She was watching him, apparently waiting, because the moment they locked gazes, she repeated her question. “Why are you afraid of me?”

  He scowled at her as he set her glass of water in front of her, making sure to add crushed ice and filtered water from the fridge. He never cared about that, but for some reason, he wanted to do it for her. “I’m not afraid.”

  She grabbed his wrist as he started to pull away. “Slade,” she said softly. “We’re facing something huge that we don’t understand. It probably has to do with my background and yours, but we don’t have answers. If we screw up, we’re both dead, and so is Julia. We need to communicate and trust each other if we’re going to survive this.”

  He stared down at her fingers locked around his wrist. He could flick her aside so easily, but he didn’t. He had no interest in making her release him. There was something about her delicate fingers encircling his wrist that made everything inside him settle, as if he could take a deep breath for the first time in his life.