The Rogue Hunter's Mate [Paranormal Protection Unit 10] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 8

  Stuffing his hands into his pockets so he didn’t give in to the urge to keep touching her, he shrugged. “I can’t be anything but who I am,” he said quietly. “But you are welcome all the same,” he told her and shifted his feet. “I should let you get some sleep, and remember, if you need a shirt or whatever to sleep in, raid my closet.”

  “I think that I will have to.” She smiled and then took a breath. “I really do appreciate all that you’ve done, Zaidu. You didn’t have to. Heck, you have every reason in the world to stay as far from me as possible, but thank you for choosing to stay, for choosing to protect me.”

  “Get some sleep, Beth, and we’ll talk in the morning,” he said softly, giving into the urge to lightly touch her cheek with his fingertips. “I’m keeping you safe because it’s the right thing to do, and while your brother is human, the human cops have no clue what to do with someone like that. We will figure it out and get a plan of action. Tonight though, you get some sleep and try to remember it’s not your fault.”

  She smiled a sad smile and nodded. Lifting a hand to cover his, she whispered, “That’s what I’ve been trying to convince myself of for years, that it’s not my fault, that I’m not like him, but he’s my twin. How could we be so different?” Before he could answer, she moved from him and walked toward the bathroom. “Good night, Zaidu, rest well.”

  Moving to the door, Z stopped in the doorway with his hands on the knob. “Twins can look identical, behave identically, but they aren’t completely. Besides, every person has to make their own choices, Beth. Those choices shape us. You chose one path and he chose another. Never think that you two are anything alike.” Stepping out of the room, he shut the door and headed for the basement. He needed to beat the hell out of something and unfortunately, all he had was his heavy punching bag.

  Chapter Nine

  She twisted and turned, caught in the grip of the nightmare. Sobs tore from her throat, her body was slicked with sweat, and she was caught in the middle of the night terror and couldn’t pull herself from it at all. A scream tore from her throat as she clawed at the sheets to try to get away from him in her nightmares.

  Racing up the stairs, Zaidy burst through her door and spun around. No one was there. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered and moved to the bed fast. Sitting, he caught her hands in his to keep her from decking him. “Bethany, wake the hell up!” he said sharply to her as he leaned down toward her. “Come on, Beth, wake up.”

  Bethany sobbed again. Another scream tore from her lips before her eyes finally showed signs that she was awake and not trapped in her nightmare. Another sob escaped her lips before she finally turned her face against one of his arms holding hers trapped and let the tears fall. “God, I hate the fucking nightmares.”

  Loosening his hold, he gently pulled her up to sit and into his lap. Holding her to him he stroked his hand over her hair gently. “Shh,” he said softly as he rocked her. “You’re awake now,” he told her gently. Dragging the quilt up and around her, Zaidu wrapped her up tight to trap the heat of his body in and around hers to help combat the shivers.

  Bethany took the comfort that he offered her. She let her body shake and the pain roll off of her as she rested there on him. Finally when she was feeling slightly more relaxed she sighed. “Thank you, Zaidu.” She stroked her hand down his shoulder and down his chest. She was amazed by him. He was hard all over and it was enough to make her remember that she wanted him, but he didn’t want her so she had to keep those thoughts to herself.

  Nodding slightly so his cheek rubbed against her hair, he gave her a slight squeeze before he leaned back to look at her. Pushing her hair back out of her eyes, Z looked at her. “I can still see the ghosts haunting your eyes,” he said. “Come on, lie back down. I’m going to stay for awhile until I know you’re sleeping soundly.”

  She knew there would be no more sleep for her, but to have the chance to lie at his side at least once was something she refused to give up. Nodding, she moved off of his lap and curled up onto the bed, looking up at him and watching his eyes go over the massive scars that covered her thigh from the reconstructive surgery. Touching the ridge where part of her muscle was missing, she flushed. “I know it’s ugly.” She shrugged. “But I’m alive, so for that I’m thankful.”

  “Scars on the outside are easier than the ones inside,” he told her. Moving, he shook out the quilt again before settling on the bed at her back. Wrapping his arms around her, Zaidu drew her in closer to him. “The ones inside eat at us and constantly burn,” he said.

  Turning so that she could wrap her arms around him and she could lay her head on his chest she sighed. Rubbing her cheek to his chest, she soaked up the heat that was him and sighed. “Thank you for staying with me,” she whispered. “And yes, the scars on the inside are the worst ones out there.”

  Resting his cheek to her hair he rubbed her back lightly. “You’re welcome,” he murmured quietly. “Sleep if you can, Bethany. “You need your sleep.” He didn’t want her getting worn down, not with the long battle ahead of them.

  “I know,” she whispered and sighed then. “I will try to sleep.” She really would try but wasn’t so sure if she would be able to. Honestly, she hoped that she could as long as she had him there in her bed with his arms around her. She was sure that she was going to be able to at least relax, and that would be very nice.

  Growling softly in the subvocal range, he kept rubbing her back lightly. Stroking her hair gently, Zaidu moved a hand up under her hair and rubbed her neck muscles. “When I was little my mother used to sing to me when I had a rough night,” he told her quietly. “I won’t torture you with my less-than-stellar vocals.” He smiled faintly.

  “What you are doing right now is absolutely perfect,” Bethany admitted quietly. “I happen to really enjoy being in your arms.” Honest truth. “In fact I think that I’m relaxing all the more now that you are here,” she whispered. Having him in her arms, she was finding herself relaxing more and more toward sleep. Closing her eyes again she breathed in slightly and, before she knew it, was out.

  Lifting his head, he peeked down at her and then relaxed back when he saw her sound asleep, her entire posture telling him she was out. Closing his eyes, he let out a slow breath and forced his body to relax as well and, moments later, was asleep.

  Chapter Ten

  When she woke to the light shining in the window, Bethany was more than a lot shocked. She moved slightly and then looked up at him. “I—” She stopped before she admitted to him that the sleep she had was the best sleep she had in five years. “Thank you, Zaidu,” she whispered instead.

  Yawning lazily, he stretched slowly and blinked up at her. Scratching his chest he tipped his head to look at her. “For what?” he asked in a low rumble before he cleared his throat. Rubbing at his eyes he checked the time and looked back at her. “You want some coffee and breakfast? Eggs and toast are up on the block of options or we head for the store and get breakfast at a diner before going shopping.”

  “How about we make some egg baskets?” she asked with a sleepy yawn. “And I was thanking you because…” There was hesitation but then she decided to just tell him. “Tonight was the very first night that I’ve slept well in five years. Even with sleeping pills I haven’t slept this well in five years.”

  “Egg baskets?” he asked curiously as he got up and stretched to crack his back. Bending, he put his hands on the floor and relaxed. “I’m just glad you slept well. Everyone needs a true night of sleep to let their body and mind fully relax and reset.”

  “Egg baskets are made when you cut the center part of the bread out of them, get them crispy, and then crack an egg in the center. The egg, as it cooks, blends sorta with the bread. It’s actually really very good. The centers you can toast and have toast for the eggs if you have them runny at all.”

  Straightening up, he nodded. “Interesting,” he told her. “We will make these egg baskets then.” He rolled his head around to crack his neck. “I’m going
to grab a shower after I put coffee on. Meet downstairs in a half hour?”

  “Sounds good, that way I can shower as well.” She hated to shower because she actually really liked having his scent on her because of the comfort it gave her, but it was better for her to clean now so that she didn’t crave what she couldn’t have.

  Nodding he headed for the door before turning to look at her for a second. “Half an hour,” he said and stepped out. It hadn’t been what he wanted to say but he wasn’t sure how she would react to what he’d actually wanted to tell her. Sighing, Zaidu headed for his room and the shower, stripping as he walked through the master bedroom to the en suite.

  * * * *

  When Bethany came down the stairs she had her hair braided and was in her clothes she had on when she came out of work the previous day. “I think that I really am going to have to get some more clothes here. I can’t keep wearing this.” She had folded his shirt that she had worn the previous night and hidden it under her pillow. Bad of her, she knew, but she had done it so that she could keep the scent of him close when she slept.

  Turning, he handed her a cup of coffee. “Sugar’s on the counter and cream or milk is in the fridge,” he told her as he turned back to what he was doing chopping up some vegetables. “I figured I’d do a mock stir-fry of vegetables with your egg baskets. We’ll go shopping as soon as we eat,” Zaidu said, popping a piece of pepper into his mouth to chew. “You need clothing and we’re going to need food you won’t turn green trying to eat because this”—he waved the knife at his chopping board—“is the last of the non-meat products in my fridge.”

  “That’s perfect. Shopping is exactly what we need,” Bethany agreed. “And a veggie stir-fry sounds amazing.” She was a vegetarian and eggs were about the limit to her “meaty” encounters. “Are you sure that you will be all right with having a vegetarian in your home?”

  “I’d prefer you were a carnivore like you were meant to be, but I understand your reasons that you are not,” Z said, moving to start a pan heating. “It will be interesting and we may have to avoid at least one meal together but we’ll figure it out.” He shot her a look. “I need at least twenty ounces of red meat in my diet a day as bare minimum.”

  “Yeah, we will definitely not have that meal together.” She shuddered at just the thought of red meat. “But yeah, I fully believe that we will figure it out, at least for the time that I have to be here and until you can turn me loose to get your own life back.” She didn’t look forward to that day, not at all. She wanted to be there, needed to be there with him.

  “Eggs and bread are there.” He pointed. “You can use that pan.” He tapped the other on the stove. “Because I have no clue what this whole process is,” he said. He had the concept but putting it into practice was something else entirely. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

  “I don’t mind at all. Where are your glasses?” she asked. When he pointed out a cabinet she pulled out one of the wider-rimmed glasses and the cutting board she saw. “Now how many do you think you will want?” Pulling out the butter and a butter knife she got her materials lined up and then began to pull the centers out of the bread by using the glass as a template and cutting around the rim of it. When she had enough she buttered the centers of the bread and put them on a cookie sheet. “Will you pop these into the oven for toast?” She passed that off and then began to butter both sides of the now centerless breads. Popping three on the skillet, she hummed under her breath until she was sure that thirty seconds had passed. Then she cracked an egg into each center. “How do you want your yolks? Really runny or cooked fully?”

  “Four at least,” he said, putting the centers into the oven and turning the heat up a little more. “And runny,” he added, moving back to look into the pan with a frown. “I like them gooey so that I can dip the bread into them. But the whites have to be cooked.” Otherwise it reminded him of snot and grossed him the hell out.

  “No worries. That’s how I like mine as well so I’m very good at this one.” She grinned at him and bumped her hip to his. “Now, I need a spatula so that when it’s time I can give these a little toss and then I will put in three more and that should be plenty for the both of us.” She would only eat two so that would be perfect.

  Pulling the utensil off the rack he passed it to her before he slid the vegetables into the hot pan. “You are a very naturally cheerful and upbeat person, aren’t you?” he asked. He was still trying to figure out just who Bethany was. So far he was having a hell of a time with it. Given all the stress in her life between the kidnapping and Wolf chase along with her brother’s breakout and psychotic killing spree, now he had this upbeat and chipper person—he had no clue just who she was. It was slightly mystifying to him.

  Bethany shrugged. “I am. Before…” She frowned and closed her eyes, forcing the memories away and then once more continuing. “Before everything happened I was always a very happy person. I’m also trying to work on ensuring that I don’t slip back into the sorrow and pain that I was in for so long after.” She turned to face him. “I also take medication to help me when I’m feeling really down. It’s necessary at times, but not always.” Thankfully.

  “Good, drugs are never the answer. They are a helpful tool but once someone begins to rely on them it’s time to look to other means,” he said, carefully stirring the vegetables around the pan. “Can I ask why you slip into ‘the sorrow’ as you called it? Is it some reminder or just a moment where your mind drifts back?”

  “Sometimes the past hits me hard. Sometimes I think of my parents and it makes me very sad,” she admitted as she flipped the egg baskets. “And on the anniversaries I normally have to take the meds because it’s harder to deal with.”

  “Because that day will always be associated with their loss,” he said, stirring the vegetables before moving to the oven. Pulling the pan out, he flipped the circles over and stuffed it back in for another few minutes. “I truly despise people that say ‘time heals all wounds.’ Wounds to the flesh, absolutely, but even then only to a degree in some cases. Wounds to the soul, the heart, your very core, those never heal. They may scab over but all it takes is one miniscule thing, event, word, and that scab is torn off and the pain is as fresh as the day it first happened.”

  She turned to look at him, shock clear on her face. “You really understand,” she whispered in shocked awe. “You truly get it. I think you are truly the very first person to understand that pain. Yes, cuts to the body can and will heal but your soul never will truly heal. Thank you for that. For truly understanding what I’m going through. It is hard when it’s the anniversary of their deaths and on my birthday.” A birthday she shared with her twin. “It’s even worse when I have to go each year to the sanitarium to ensure that Brian is kept locked away.” Not that it did a hell of a lot of good now that he had escaped.

  “I can only imagine,” he said, moving the vegetables off the heat and turning the burner off. Going back to the oven he pulled out the rounds and shut it off. Collecting plates and cutlery, he handed the plates to her. Leaning a hip to the counter, Z watched her as she prepared the second round of egg baskets.

  Taking in a deep breath, Bethany spent the next couple of minutes focusing on making the egg baskets. Finally she was able to plate them all up and passed him a plate. Smiling she said, “All right, let’s have a seat so that we can figure out if you like these or not.”

  Staring at her as he took the plate from her, Z snagged his mug instinctively without looking for it. “You shouldn’t force emotions you don’t feel,” he commented, finally turning to move to the counter and pulling out two stools. “It’s just another form of a lie,” waiting for her to come and join him.

  “I know but if I don’t try to force the smile, force the happiness, then the fear and sadness will swallow me whole. I refuse to let him have that on me as well. I refuse to allow him to take my joy and happiness when he’s already taken so very much from me. I know how that sounds but it’s the truth. I
refuse to allow him to take any more than he already has.”

  Sitting once she had, Z looked at her. “So don’t let him, but don’t force it. Life is full of potholes and hills. We all have to ride them out. If you have to force something then there’s no point to it. You need to find the little things in the world and life that make you smile naturally. A baby’s laugh, an elderly couple making kissy faces, or even the way a flower looks in the sun. You just need to find what will make you smile without effort and let that help to wash some of the ugliness away.”

  She then smiled. It was a true smile. “Thank you.” She found something to smile about, him. “For the advice. Thank you for that. I think I needed it.” She needed a reminder that sometimes all that mattered was simply living life. “Eat. I can’t wait to see what you think of the egg baskets.”

  Grabbing a toasted circle off the pan he tore it in half and stabbed the egg center. Inspecting it he nodded and cut a piece off to eat, a brow twitching slightly as his only real outer show of emotion. “That’s really good,” he told her. Taking another bite, he sopped up some of the egg yolk making a run for it on his plate.

  “And the whites of the egg blend in with the bread so it’s almost like French toast as well,” Bethany told him with a grin. She began to eat her food, stabbing the veggies and sighing happily. “Oh these are so good.”

  “That’s something I haven’t had in forever,” Zaidu commented. “French toast,” he added at her look. “Haven’t really had a good batch since I lived in Europe, though the French toast over there just seems better. Personally I think it’s because they make all their bread fresh instead of by machine like the Americans do.”