He shrugged helplessly, wishing he could
convey the urgency he felt. “We’re bound, Bridget, and I’ll do my utmost to
keep you safe, not only because you’re Goddess-born, but also because—”
He
stopped himself before he said too much. She’d never believe he’d fallen in
love with her without having actually met her.
“Because
I’m a gentleman, and I can’t stand back when I know I can help,” he finished
lamely, aching to tell her the truth.
“Thank
you for your help.” Her face belied her words.
“Bridget.”
“I’ll be
okay. I just need to think.” She strode past him and found her shoes, tugging
them on in the growing silence. Looking back up at him, she said, “I’m trying
to understand it all. I just need a little time.”
“Of
course, take all the time you need. Just stay close.”
“I
will.” Then she was gone.
Fredrick
stifled the urge to go after her and hold her against his chest, inhaling her
scent. She’d told him she needed to think and walk, and she’d promised she
wouldn’t run away again. He had to believe in her word. He had to believe she’d
call if she needed him, and he’d hear it no matter where she was on the estate.
He told himself to calm down. She should be safe here, but the feeling of
danger persisted and made his back crawl.
He heard
the front door close, and the sound unlocked his feet from the floor of her
room. He had to find something else to do other than brood on what haunted her
thoughts. She’d come to understand what he told her. She had to. The flare of
the marks on their bodies confirmed the truth. Now it made sense why she’d been
in his visions, but the danger floated like a hazy phantom on the horizon, just
out of sight.
Fredrick
gritted his teeth as he left the room and strode downstairs to find Cynthia or
Matt. He didn’t want the werewolves to tackle Bridget to the ground if they saw
her outside. It wouldn’t win him any points, and she’d never trust him to keep
his word.
His guts
tightened as doubt assailed his mind. Would she really keep her word? His steps
veered for the front door, and he’d gripped the brass door-pull before he could
give himself a mental shake.
She’s not running. She promised. I have to trust her.
Fredrick
rested his head against the glossy wooden surface, inhaling the scent of
mahogany and wood stain until his fears retreated back to a manageable level.
Do I trust her? Can I?
He
searched deep down in his gut and realized Bridget had never once done anything
contrary to what she said she would. In all his visions, she’d struck him as a
woman who stayed true to her word and commitments. She may have turned his
world upside down, but she’d never been dishonest in his experience. He
believed Bridget and trusted her to do as she promised.
Taking a
deep breath and rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension, Fredrick released
the door and headed for the kitchen. The stainless steel appliances, golden
Italian marble countertops, and oak cabinets soothed his irritation, and he
found Cynthia leaning over the large island in the middle of the black marble
tiled floor. She’d ignored the four tall chairs pushed up to the bar on the
backside of the island as she read a thick book with cup of coffee in her hand.
“Bridget
went out to go for a walk,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “She promised to
stay on the grounds, but I don’t want any of the werewolves to tackle her
tonight.”
“You
trust her not to run?” Cynthia asked, raising her eyebrows.
He
nodded. “I do. It’s a lot to take in. Werewolves, vampires, the Goddess. And … everything
else.”
“You
mean that you’re in love with her?”
He
looked at Cynthia sharply, but said nothing.
She
chuckled and shook her head. “Fredrick, you’ve known me for years. When have
werewolves not known what’s going on?
I can smell your emotions, though I’ll admit, yours are more subtle than
humans’.”
“I
didn’t know that,” he said
convey the urgency he felt. “We’re bound, Bridget, and I’ll do my utmost to
keep you safe, not only because you’re Goddess-born, but also because—”
He
stopped himself before he said too much. She’d never believe he’d fallen in
love with her without having actually met her.
“Because
I’m a gentleman, and I can’t stand back when I know I can help,” he finished
lamely, aching to tell her the truth.
“Thank
you for your help.” Her face belied her words.
“Bridget.”
“I’ll be
okay. I just need to think.” She strode past him and found her shoes, tugging
them on in the growing silence. Looking back up at him, she said, “I’m trying
to understand it all. I just need a little time.”
“Of
course, take all the time you need. Just stay close.”
“I
will.” Then she was gone.
Fredrick
stifled the urge to go after her and hold her against his chest, inhaling her
scent. She’d told him she needed to think and walk, and she’d promised she
wouldn’t run away again. He had to believe in her word. He had to believe she’d
call if she needed him, and he’d hear it no matter where she was on the estate.
He told himself to calm down. She should be safe here, but the feeling of
danger persisted and made his back crawl.
He heard
the front door close, and the sound unlocked his feet from the floor of her
room. He had to find something else to do other than brood on what haunted her
thoughts. She’d come to understand what he told her. She had to. The flare of
the marks on their bodies confirmed the truth. Now it made sense why she’d been
in his visions, but the danger floated like a hazy phantom on the horizon, just
out of sight.
Fredrick
gritted his teeth as he left the room and strode downstairs to find Cynthia or
Matt. He didn’t want the werewolves to tackle Bridget to the ground if they saw
her outside. It wouldn’t win him any points, and she’d never trust him to keep
his word.
His guts
tightened as doubt assailed his mind. Would she really keep her word? His steps
veered for the front door, and he’d gripped the brass door-pull before he could
give himself a mental shake.
She’s not running. She promised. I have to trust her.
Fredrick
rested his head against the glossy wooden surface, inhaling the scent of
mahogany and wood stain until his fears retreated back to a manageable level.
Do I trust her? Can I?
He
searched deep down in his gut and realized Bridget had never once done anything
contrary to what she said she would. In all his visions, she’d struck him as a
woman who stayed true to her word and commitments. She may have turned his
world upside down, but she’d never been dishonest in his experience. He
believed Bridget and trusted her to do as she promised.
Taking a
deep breath and rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension, Fredrick released
the door and headed for the kitchen. The stainless steel appliances, golden
Italian marble countertops, and oak cabinets soothed his irritation, and he
found Cynthia leaning over the large island in the middle of the black marble
tiled floor. She’d ignored the four tall chairs pushed up to the bar on the
backside of the island as she read a thick book with cup of coffee in her hand.
“Bridget
went out to go for a walk,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “She promised to
stay on the grounds, but I don’t want any of the werewolves to tackle her
tonight.”
“You
trust her not to run?” Cynthia asked, raising her eyebrows.
He
nodded. “I do. It’s a lot to take in. Werewolves, vampires, the Goddess. And … everything
else.”
“You
mean that you’re in love with her?”
He
looked at Cynthia sharply, but said nothing.
She
chuckled and shook her head. “Fredrick, you’ve known me for years. When have
werewolves not known what’s going on?
I can smell your emotions, though I’ll admit, yours are more subtle than
humans’.”
“I
didn’t know that,” he said
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