Surrender: Immortal Protectors, Book 2 Page 4

  Fallon’s voice cut into his thoughts.

  “Unlike you, I delved into her mind during dinner.”

  Kieran continued staring at the ceiling without thought. Thoughts and emotions were hard to hide from Fallon. The Brit had a very powerful gift, a gift that came in handy when fighting demons and erasing human’s memories but a pain in the butt for anyone who wanted to hide anything from him.

  All Protectors were given the ability to read minds and erase memories, but on rare occasions, some humans were exceptionally strong-willed, and it proved difficult or downright impossible. It was a learned practice for most of the Protectors, but Fallon was born with the ability. After he became a Protector, his powers increased. Kieran didn’t know of anyone or anything that could conceal their thoughts or feelings from him.

  “Aren’t you the least bit interested in what I got from Gwendolyn?” Fallon asked, giving him an incredulous glare.

  “Does it affect me in any way? If it doesn’t, then I don’t really give a shit.” Kieran propped himself up on his elbows. “Unless you want to see my naked ass, please leave. I’m about to take a shower.”

  Fallon sighed but didn’t make any move indicating he was leaving. “It might affect us. I was not able to read her thoughts clearly, which could be due to her recent upset. I did, however, sense her emotions. They were normal after what she went through—fear, anger, and nervousness. It’s been a long time since I came across a human whose mind I couldn’t read clearly. Another thing I find intriguing about our guest. Tomorrow, both of us will try at the same time.” With that, he stood up and stretched. “I better leave before I’m blinded by your bare bits.” He walked out, closing the door firmly behind him.

  Long copper hair, frightened green eyes, trembling lips—images from the past flashed through Kieran’s mind. The woman had clung to him, and he’d automatically wanted to protect her, to soothe her and ensure her safety. Against protocol, he’d taken her back to her apartment and spent hours soothing her until she’d fallen asleep against his chest. He remembered how her fingers had clutched onto the front of his shirt. Guilt-filled, he’d gently shaken her awake to erase her memory of him and the demon attack. Just before he did so, her fear-filled eyes had met his, and he was sure he was going to kiss her. He didn’t. He’d erased her memory of what transpired that evening and left.

  He’d left the apartment but not her. Wendy was burned into his brain. For months, he’d done everything possible to forget her, and now, here she was, just down the hall.

  Within reach.

  He raised his hand and studied the cut from earlier. The scar was barely visible now and completely healed. He thought about the women in the library the night before. He’d been pleasured, never allowing them to caress his face or kiss him. A long-standing rule of his.

  How long has it been? How long since he’d touched a woman he cared for? Better yet, how long since he’d kissed a woman?

  Over three hundred years.

  No one—no one since Catarina.

  Angry at the direction of his thoughts, he pushed to his feet and headed to the bathroom.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Soft daylight filtered through the curtains to wake Wendy. The bed cradled and soothed her so that even after opening her eyes, she refused to budge and instead burrowed further into the cocoon of down and pillows.

  It’s not like she had anywhere to go. She glanced at the crystal clock on the nightstand. It was still early, not even eight in the morning.

  Nonetheless, half an hour later, she was wide-awake. Coffee would be so good right now. Wendy eyed the intercom and considered calling Hector to bring her some rich brew but then felt bad. What if he didn’t get up early? Or what if he was busy doing the Cinderella thing and scrubbing the kitchen floors? No, she wouldn’t call him. She was more than able to go downstairs and get her own coffee. It was best not to get used to the pampered lifestyle that she would be abandoning as soon as she could manage.

  Wrapped in her thick terry robe that, thankfully, Emma had packed for her, Wendy limped out of her room a few minutes later. She brought her cosmetics bag, figuring she’d apply her makeup while drinking coffee.

  After only a couple of wrong turns, Emma finally found the kitchen. The massive cooking area and dining room combination was dazzling. A wall made up entirely of windows opened to a view of a small pond, complete with a sparkling man-made waterfall surrounded by a dense wooded area. Wendy moved to the coffee pot on the counter after putting her bag down on the table.

  While she waited for the coffee to brew, she sat in a chair facing the windows. She wondered if Fallon appreciated the beautiful surroundings. Although she was not a Georgia native, she’d come to love this area, with its agreeable weather and vast array of foliage. Digging around in her large cosmetics bag, she found mascara and began to apply it, still deep in thought.

  “How did you plan to get your coffee over to where you are sitting, Miss?” Hector’s disapproval was evident in the flat tone of his voice.

  “Oh, hello, Hector.” Wendy smiled sweetly at him. “Actually, I do have a plan. I am going to place my cup of coffee on the tray and then I am going to slide it as far as I can. Then, I am going to hop around the counter and reach over and slide it to me,” she finished, giving him a triumphant smile.

  “I see.” Hector didn’t look convinced. He poured her coffee and placed it in front of her, along with a delicate white porcelain pitcher of cream. “You don’t take sugar, correct?” His voice remained aloof.

  “Correct. Please, don’t be put out with me, Hector. I didn’t want to bother you so early. Plus, I love this kitchen with all this natural light. It’s the perfect place to start the day.” She blinked up at him. “You don’t mind do you?”

  The butler shook his head. “If you used that look on your parents, I imagine they, too, had a hard time remaining cross with you.”

  # # #

  Kieran woke to a new aroma weaving through his room. He sat up and sniffed the air. What was that? It smelled like a bakery. A soft growl vibrated from his throat. What now?

  He grabbed his cell phone to look at the time, surprised to see it was almost one o’clock in the afternoon. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so long, in fact, almost twelve hours.

  That proved it. He was getting too lazy and needed to leave and get back to work.

  A teleconference was scheduled with Julian tomorrow. Hopefully, the quarantine would be lifted, and he could go home. Silently, he pleaded with God that the Roman would not bring up the subject of his marriage. A tantalizing scent interrupted his sour mood and urged him out of bed. Hector was outdoing himself today, of course, like Fallon, probably in an effort to impress Wendy. The thought of coffee and the aroma of baking finally won over, and he climbed out of bed.

  After yanking on a worn pair of sweatpants, he padded barefoot to investigate the origin of the wonderful smell.

  Kieran walked into the kitchen and straight to the cabinet to grab the largest coffee cup in the cabinet.

  Humming?

  It didn’t sound like Hector. Kieran stopped pouring his coffee when he spotted Wendy backing out of the pantry. The woman hopped on one foot, her arms filled with baking pans and some other flat metal objects. With the grace of a ballerina, she pivoted. Her eyes widened at him for a split second, and then, she shrieked, leaping back. One of the pans toppled from the stack to land on the tile floor with a loud crash.

  “Holy shit! You just scared the crap out of me,” Wendy admonished him, as if he’d scared her on purpose. “You could have hollered out ‘hello’ or something to let me know you were here,” she continued scolding while putting the paraphernalia on the counter. “You know, I was just attacked. You’re lucky I didn’t bash you over the head with one of these.” After leveling a glare at him, she hopped over and grabbed the pan off the floor, somehow managing to do it without even a wobble.

  She was dressed in a lime green fitted T-shirt over what looke
d like skin-tight sweat pants. Sweeping a look over her from her feet up, Kieran was thankful that he managed not to drop his cup at the sight. Her legs were slim but perfectly formed, giving way to the soft curve of her hips, which dipped inward to form a small waistline. Her stomach was flat and showcased her full breasts. His gaze moved up, hesitating on toward her pouty mouth, and then he noticed she was staring daggers at him.

  “Er, good afternoon, Gwendolyn,” Kieran grumbled, annoyed that she’d caught him ogling. “I thought the kitchen was empty until you hopped out of the panty.” He scowled at her bare feet before continuing. “Aren’t you supposed to be lying down or something?”

  Kieran’s heated study of her made breathing normally an extreme sport. Wendy fought to pry her gaze away from his bare chest. If there was ever a reason for photographic memory, this was it. Kieran was in the kitchen not only shirtless, but he wore his sweatpants low on his hips. Even his hair, comically tousled all over his head, was sexy as hell. His cool, clear green stare did little to settle her nerves. For years, she had dreamed of this moment.

  Being with him alone.

  Okay, not even in her wildest daydreams did she have him shirtless, certainly not looking her over like he just had. Change that—she’d dreamed of him naked many, many times. But still, this reality was way better than any dream.

  Did he find her attractive? Maybe the attraction wasn’t just one-sided. Okay, Wendy, time to drag your eyes away from his belly button. No! Not lower! Up and over to the counter.

  She turned away and fumbled with the pans. Her batch of scones would be done in three minutes, and she prepared to drop more dough on the cookie sheets she’d found in the pantry.

  After an entire morning of nothing to do, she’d begged Hector to let her cook. Since he’d already prepped for dinner, he didn’t need help. Finally, after some needling, he admitted to hating baking, which happened to be her favorite part of cooking. Baking was a hobby she often indulged in and enjoyed almost as much as making jewelry.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Kieran. He hadn’t moved but remained still and continued to stare at her. With a deep breath, she turned to face him only to find he was focusing on her forehead. Oh, God! He was trying to read her mind. Fallon had tried several times the night before. Each time, the same shuffling sensation tingled in her head. She started to sing in her mind the first thing that came to mind.

  “Jingle Bells.”

  “Do I have something on my forehead?” she snapped, trying to break his concentration.

  He ignored her remark and turned away.

  Not sure whether he had stopped trying to read her thoughts, she finished “Jingle Bells,” which lead to “Frosty the Snowman” and, finally, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” His eyebrows scrunched together when she began “Happy Birthday.” She finished the birthday song and let out a breath of relief when the oven timer dinged.

  Wendy limped to the oven and grabbed some oven mitts she’d left on the counter. When she started to put them on, they disappeared out of her hands.

  Kieran pulled them on. “Are you trying to injure yourself further?” he mumbled. “Why the hell did Hector leave you in here to cook alone?”

  Wendy rolled her eyes and turned to the counter to set up the cooling stands she’d also found in the panty. “I can’t sit around. It’s not in my nature. I need something to do, or I’ll go crazy. So, Hector and I came up with a schedule for me. In the morning, I will work on making my jewelry. The light in this kitchen is perfect for it. In the afternoon, I will bake for a couple hours. Then, I will spend the evenings working on my jewelry website, followed by a long shower or bath and some bedtime reading.”

  Kieran only grunted in response and held the cookie sheet patiently while she picked each scone up with a spatula and placed it on the cooling rack.

  Wendy noticed his gaze following each scone closely. He was probably hungry. “You can have as many as you like. This is my mother’s recipe for golden raisin butter scones. But they’re hot as heck, so you better blow on them or let them cool before trying to eat them.”

  “Well, isn’t this a cozy scene.” Fallon strolled into the kitchen fully dressed in another cashmere sweater, this time grey, and black slacks. He picked up a teakettle and began to fill it with water. “Good day, Gwendolyn, Kieran.”

  “Good afternoon, Fallon. How did you sleep?” Wendy asked the Lord sweetly.

  “Very well, thank you,” Fallon replied. “And you?”

  “You didn’t ask me how I slept,” Kieran mumbled under his breath. Their eyes met momentarily before she realized that Fallon was waiting for her reply.

  Her eyes still on Kieran, she replied to Fallon. “Oh, I slept great. I love all the pillows, and the bed is amazingly comfy.”

  Not sure what to say to Kieran, she hesitated before replying to him. When she opened her mouth to speak, he grabbed a couple of scones, picked up the coffee cup, and headed out of the kitchen.

  Interesting. Was he jealous of Fallon? If so, it was a good thing. Wendy wanted to jump up and down with excitement. She had to talk to Emma. Get her friend’s take on what had just happened.

  The evening meal was difficult. As soon as she sat down, she began to sing in her head. It was problematic because, at the same time, she was trying to make conversation and eat.

  Both men kept staring at her forehead and giving her strange looks. They would then exchange puzzled glances. Wendy felt the now-familiar shuffling. They were trying to read her mind again. She glared at each in turn—the nerve of them, ganging up on her.

  Quickly, she found out that she didn’t know a single song in its entirety other than Christmas carols. When she began “Frosty the Snowman” for the fourth time, Fallon jumped up. He glowered at her and pointed to the doorway. “In the library. Now.”

  She watched Fallon storm out of the room.

  Kieran seemed oblivious to Fallon’s tirade. He cut into his steak and continued eating.

  “Was he talking to me or you?” Wendy asked.

  “I believe both of us,” Kieran replied between chews, not looking at her.

  “Oh.” Wendy was almost finished, so she followed Kieran’s lead and kept eating. Since it was easier for her to keep singing in her head and not speak, they ate in silence.

  When Kieran stood, she got up as well. It shocked her when he came around the table and took her elbow. When he touched her arm as she started to move toward the library, she suppressed the urge to lean into him. The allure of heat radiated from his too-close body.

  His gaze connected with hers, and his shoulders visibly tensed. His lips pressed into a tight line, he motioned for her to go ahead of him.

  Fallon waited behind an antique ornate desk with his arms crossed and a frustrated expression on his handsome face. Wendy dreaded the conversation that was forthcoming. She plopped down on a loveseat and began singing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” silently.

  When Kieran lounged lazily in the chair opposite her, he yawned and stretched his arms over his head.

  Wow.

  She momentarily stopped the song in her head and gaped. In jeans and a white T-shirt, he looked like he was posing for a Calvin Klein billboard.

  She began the song again.

  “Wendy, can you please stop it?” Fallon told her, his voice tight but calmer than she had expected.

  “Stop what?” Then, one foggy Christmas eve…

  “The singing in your head.”

  “I’m not singing.” Santa came to say, Rudolph…

  “Yes. You are. Rudolph the deer or something. Stop it. It’s driving me mad.”

  “Oh.” Wendy stopped singing and waited. This is it. They are going to wipe my mind, and I’ll forget everything. Oh, God, how much will I forget? Will I forget only the demons and Protectors? Will I forget Emma? Oh, God, again, will I forget I love Kieran? Oh, shit, why am I thinking all this right now? She gasped, and her eyes jerked to Fallon, who watched her, fascinated.

&nbs
p; His gaze moved to Kieran, and his lips curved into a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, it seems that Miss O’Sullivan knows exactly what we are.”

  Kieran, who up to now hadn’t said anything, studied her, and his eyebrows lifted. She saw a flicker of curiosity, but he quickly masked it and shrugged. “So wipe her.”

  The jerk.

  “What exactly is ‘wipe’?” Wendy asked. She grabbed a figurine of a mermaid from the table and held it up like a bat. If they came near her, she was going to start swinging. “I am not going to say anything to anyone, I’ve known for years and umm…” I can’t believe I just said that, too. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw, waiting for her brain wiping to begin.

  What could only be described as fast shuffling fluttered inside her head. It would start and then stop. She opened her eyes and looked from one man to the other, not able to tell who was doing it since both were concentrating on her forehead.

  Wendy bit her lip to keep it from trembling and sighed. Tomorrow, she would wake up in her apartment and not remember her best friend, would probably not recognize murdering demons, and worst of all, Kieran would be gone forever.

  “It’s not working.” Fallon stood over her and leaned in, his eyes narrowed. “What are you?”

  “I’m tired, that’s what I am, and I’m going to bed!” Wendy snapped at him, wondering what his problem was. As she went to get up, he took her shoulders and pushed her none-too-gently back into the chair.

  “You will remain here until we decide,” Fallon snarled.

  A primitive growl made the hair on her arms stand on end. With widened eyes, she gaped at Fallon, only to realize it wasn’t him who made the unnatural sound.

  Kieran did.

  Everything seemed to move in slow motion—Fallon turned away from her. At the same time, the Scot flew at him, and they both crashed onto the floor.