Guardian's Mate Read online

She looked up at him again, the sun’s fading light brushing her dark hair. “Where’s that?”

  Zander waved an arm in the vague direction of northwest, where the land was a smudge on the horizon. “Alaska.”

  She made an impatient noise. “I know Anchorage is in Alaska. I just don’t know where. I’ve never been out of Montana.”

  “South coast. I have a slip in Homer, down the peninsula from there.”

  Rae’s gaze went over him again—critically, he thought. “Do the people in Homer know you’re Shifter?”

  “No.” Zander clenched one fist. “I keep it to myself.”

  “How do they not know?” Rae’s eyes roved him again then rested on his bare neck. “Everything about you screams Shifter.”

  Zander huffed a laugh. “Have you been to Alaska? It’s cold most of the time. Everyone’s so bundled up, who knows what anyone looks like?”

  “You’re obvious.” Her eyes held his then she bent her head again. “Seriously obvious.”

  “Don’t you like bears, sweetheart?” Zander’s voice dropped to a growl. “We’re cuddly.”

  Her scoffing noise let him know where he stood. “I’m Lupine. I like Lupines.” Again she raised her head. “Only Lupines.”

  “Oh, I can see we’re going to get along great, Little Wolf.” He leaned forward, meeting her stare for stare, which was strangely difficult. “Trust me, sweetie, I’m not interested. I get that you had this Guardian thing forced on you—no one is Goddess-touched on purpose. I’m going to teach you fighting and maybe how to deal with Goddess magic, and that’s it. Nothing else between us. Nothing. And not only because Eoin and Kendrick would kick my ass.”

  Rae gave him the once-over again, scorn evident. “Fine by me.”

  “Good.” Zander stuck out his hand. “Truce?”

  Rae set aside the line—which was mostly untangled; she was good at it—and took his hand.

  “Truce.”

  Her hand held warmth despite the cold wind that had sprung up across the water. The pressure of her handshake told Zander she was no pushover but the softness of her skin reminded him that she was young and vulnerable.

  Deep inside him, a protectiveness stirred to life. He tried to tamp it down but the spark wouldn’t die.

  Hmm, Zander thought as he climbed to his feet and started for the aft cabin. That might be a problem.

  * * *

  The truce lasted until Zander led Rae into the cabin under the deck—or as he put it, below.

  Rae looked around in dismay. “You live here?”

  “Yeah,” Zander said. “What’s wrong with it?”

  It was a huge mess, that’s what was wrong with it. Junk lay everywhere, on the tiny table built into the wall, on the counters and benches, on the floor. Every horizontal surface was piled with fishing tackle, maps, books, a laptop, a tablet, clothes, blankets, pots and pans, plates, silverware, coiled wire, tools . . . Rae gave up trying to identify it all.

  “Doesn’t everything fly around when you hit rough water?” she asked in amazement.

  “Sure.” Zander picked up a hammer from the table and tossed it to a bench. “But I’m up top trying to keep the boat afloat. There’s no one down here for it to hit.”

  “There will be if I have to stay here.” Rae lifted a bench seat, figuring she’d find storage space in there. It was likewise stuffed with junk. “Seriously?”

  Zander shrugged. “I don’t stay out here forever. It’s never been a problem.”

  Rae growled in frustration and started pulling things out of the compartment. “You’re a slob. Like most bears.”

  “Excuse me?” Zander was down in a crouch beside her, the largeness of him unnerving. “All bears are not slobs. Most of them are painfully neat. Obnoxiously neat. Don’t stereotype.”

  “All right, then you’re a mess.”

  His warmth touched her. In spite of the clutter in here, Zander was clean, smelling of wind and the outdoors, his clothes spotless. Unlike the pilot of the speedboat, Zander obviously liked to bathe.

  “You don’t have to do this,” he growled as Rae started organizing junk into piles.

  “Yes, I do. Didn’t you say something about sandwiches?”

  “I might not have enough for both of us. I had no idea I’d have company.”

  “That’s not my fault,” Rae said, trying to keep the pain out of her voice. “My dad pretty much grabbed me and hustled me away. First I was on a plane, then on that tiny boat. I’d never flown before. Great first time, strapped to a seat so I wouldn’t run like hell.”

  Rae heard her words breaking but she would not cry. Not in front of Zander the weird-ass, slobby bear.

  “Peace, Little Wolf.” Zander’s very large hand landed on her back with gentleness she wouldn’t have guessed. “I know this isn’t your doing. The Goddess chooses whom she pleases, and Shifters like you and me pay for it.”

  His touch was soothing, nice. Eoin and Rae’s brothers calmed her with hugs or caresses when she was upset but this felt different. Zander’s hand was as warm and strong as her brothers’ or father’s but the tingle in her blood was new.

  But then, Zander was a healer. Probably some healing magic or whatever seeped into her when he touched her. It wasn’t a bad feeling—not that she’d ever admit it out loud.

  Zander lifted his hand and unfolded to his feet, the sudden absence of his warmth making Rae cold. He discarded his duster, tossing it on top of another pile, and moved to the small refrigerator tucked under the table.

  “There’s no reason to clean the place up,” he said. “I know where everything is.”

  Rae kept on sorting things into categories—tools, fishing gear, books, and . . . miscellaneous. Into the last pile went stuff she had no idea what to do with—old coins, a bunch of sage wrapped with wire, a compass and an astrolabe, unused spiral notebooks, sticks of incense, empty water bottles.

  “What is all this for?” she asked, curious.

  Zander was clattering around in the refrigerator. Rae didn’t want to think about what kind of mess could be in there.

  “I’m always looking for ways to enhance the healing,” he said. “I never know what might help.”

  Rae drew out a book on the magical properties of crystals and stones. “This stuff is for humans. Has nothing to do with Shifters.”

  “Some humans are magical,” Zander said, his voice muffled as he went through the small refrigerator. “Not the same way as Shifters or Fae—thank the Goddess. But some can do spells and shit. I know a lady from New Orleans who has all kinds of abilities. She even mated with a Shifter. Go figure.”

  Eoin had told Rae that Zander was an amazing healer, that he’d pulled more than one Shifter back from the brink of death, even healed a Shifter who’d gone completely feral. He did it by closing his eyes, touching them, and saying prayers to the Goddess. No incense or crystals, magic circles, or any other accoutrements.

  So why was he hoarding human magic charms, many of which, Rae had heard, didn’t work at all?

  When he didn’t answer, Rae glanced across the cabin to see Zander’s jeans cupping a very trim ass as he bent double at the small refrigerator.

  He straightened up, arms full of foil-wrapped packets, his two thin braids swinging on either side of his face. Made her wonder why he’d done his hair that way. Because he thought it looked cool? Or believed it another way to enhance his magic? Or to keep up the idea Shifters had that Zander was crazy?

  “I’ve got ham and cheese, roast beef, and salami, I think,” Zander was saying. “Or maybe it’s pastrami. Which do you want?”

  Rae gaped at the shining foil pile, counting a dozen packets. “Why did you say you didn’t have enough sandwiches?”

  “For two Shifters? For who knows how long?” He shook his head. “We’re going to have to stock up.”

  “I’ll have the ham and cheese,” Rae said.

  Zander plucked a foil lump off the top and tossed it to her. “I think that’s it.”

 
It was roast beef. Rae shrugged and bit down after she’d inspected the sandwich. It looked fine, no mold on the bread, nothing that smelled like it shouldn’t. At least he kept his food clean.

  Zander had bought these sandwiches; he hadn’t made them. A deli somewhere had put together the chewy bread, whole-grain mustard, pile of meat. Rae found a label inside one of the folds that read Marny’s Fine Sandwiches.

  The sun finally disappeared as they ate, but the light lingered, the June sky through the small windows showing a dusky twilight. Not a sound came from outside except the creaking of the boat and the soft slap of water against the hull.

  “Is it always this quiet out here?” Rae asked, unnerved by the immensity of the stillness.

  “Yep,” Zander answered. “Isn’t it great?” He chewed his third sandwich, clearing off a space on the bench on the opposite wall to sit down.

  “It’s noisy in Shiftertown.” Rae heard the wistfulness in her voice. “My brothers are always banging around, yelling at each other, then my dad yelling at them. Shifters are out in the neighborhood every night, prowling or playing with their cubs or just talking. Even in the deep cold, we’re out in Shifter form, enjoying the snow.”

  She broke off. Zander had stopped eating and was staring at her as though she were the crazy one. He grunted. “Sounds peachy.”

  “Why do you want to be alone?” Rae asked. “With no one? If Eoin and Daragh—our Guardian—hadn’t found me when I was a cub, I’d have died. Being alone isn’t a good thing.”

  Zander’s dark eyes fixed on her, a spark in them she couldn’t decipher. “It’s different for us. The Guardians, the healers, the empaths. Being with Shifters is more than just noisy; it’s noisy in here.” He tapped the side of his head. “I can’t shut out the pain, the fear, the grief when all my fucking Goddess powers can’t save someone. I need the solitude to recover.”

  He spoke in a hard voice but matter-of-fact. Rae heard the frustration in him, anguish he tried to keep under control.

  “Is that why you’re out here right now?” Rae asked.

  “Yeah. And I don’t want to talk about it, don’t want to open up and discuss my feelings. I just want to fish and drink and get on with my life.”

  “That’s all I want—to get on with my life,” Rae said, swallowing her last bite of roast beef. The sandwich had been tasty. “Instead, the stupid sword picked me up off my feet and waved me around. Now everyone either thinks I’m a Guardian or a fraud and I’m stuck out here eating sandwiches in a sty of a boat with a crazy man.”

  Zander frowned at her a few seconds longer, then a grin split his face and deep laughter filled the cabin. The laughter rattled the windows and wrapped around Rae, warming her in spite of herself.

  “Yeah, you are screwed, Little Wolf.” Zander’s eyes crinkled, his whole body shaking. He didn’t look as scary when he laughed.

  “Not if you call my dad and tell him to come back here and get me.”

  “Love to.” Zander got to his feet, wadding up his sandwich wrapper. He popped open the lid of a plastic garbage can and tossed it inside.

  He actually had a garbage can. Rae had to admit that while the cabin was cluttered and in disarray, it wasn’t dirty. She saw no dust, grease, or grime. Her Shifter nose would have detected any foul scents but nothing here made her hackles rise. There was just a lot of . . . stuff.

  “I go to bed when I feel like it,” Zander was saying. “Get up when I want to. I don’t pay attention to what time it is.”

  No clocks were around, that was for sure. Rae had her cell phone but for some reason she didn’t want to fish it out and check the time.

  “Where do I sleep?” she asked, looking around. There wasn’t a spare surface except the bed in the bow, the door in front of it half closed.

  Zander stepped across to what Rae had assumed were cabinets set above the bench on one wall. He slid a door open to reveal a futon stretched inside of it, about Rae’s length. “I have sheets around here somewhere. Maybe.”

  Rae stared at the narrow cabinet, then at him. “You want me to sleep in there? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I’d give you my bed but I’m way too big for the bunk. And if we sleep together, your dad will come back and cut off my balls.” Zander waved his hand at the cabinet. “You’re a wolf. Pretend it’s your den.”

  Rae growled. “Seriously, you are . . . Never mind. I’ll sleep outside.”

  She grabbed at the futon, intending to pull it out of the cabinet and drag it up on deck, but it got stuck in the narrow opening. Rae wrestled with it, more and more frustrated, until she was screaming through her teeth.

  “Let it go, Little Wolf.”

  Zander’s growl flowed around her and his strong hands stilled hers. His bulk was at her back, the warmth of it seeping into her and calming what roiled inside her.

  “You take the bed.” His words vibrated through her as he tucked the futon back into the cabinet. “I’ll sleep up top.” He opened a cabinet next to the bunk and extracted a blanket. “If you want clean sheets . . . hunt around. They’re here somewhere.”

  “It’s cold outside,” Rae said quickly. “I’m sure we can fix something up. I could put the futon on the floor . . .”

  He was giving her the you’re-insane-and-don’t-know-it look again. “I’m a polar bear.” Zander tapped his chest. “I like the cold.”

  He snatched up his coat, flung the blanket around his shoulders, and ducked out into the twilit night.

  Rae heard his heavy tread as he climbed up to the pilot house, where he’d no doubt hunker in one of the chairs. She imagined him, wrapped in coat and blanket, staring out across the ocean with his enigmatic eyes.

  Rae did find sheets in the cupboard under the bed, which was a cushioned platform in the narrowing front of the boat that could be closed off by a sliding door. She shook the sheets out over the mattress that was mercifully free of junk, neatly tucking them in. She added a blanket then pulled off her boots and climbed onto the bed.

  A hum filled the cabin behind her. Rae swung back on her knees to see the Sword of the Guardian lying across the bench where she’d left it. The hilt sparkled in the dim lamplight, the runes etched on it shining with their own light. The music of it filled Rae’s ears, its pitch rising as the hum increased.

  The sound would never shatter glass, she knew, because it wasn’t really making noise. No one could hear it but her.

  Thump. Thump. Zander pounded from above. “Can you shut that thing up?” he yelled down. “I’m trying to sleep.”

  Rae’s eyes widened. No one could hear the sword, not her father, brothers, or any Shifter she knew. Another Guardian might, but she’d never met any Guardians but Daragh, so she wasn’t even certain of that.

  Rae scrambled out of the bed and closed her hand around the sword’s hilt. It made a happy, jingling sound, then settled down and went quiet.

  “Thank you,” came the growl from above.

  Rae climbed back onto the bed, the sword firmly in her grasp. She laid it beside her and crawled beneath the sheets, which smelled of lemon.

  A switch on the wall beside Rae shut off all the lights in the cabin. The cabin went dark, the windows too small to let in the fading twilight.

  Rae huddled down in the bed, the silence of the night filling the boat. It pressed at her, that silence, heavy in the darkness. Water lapped at the hull, endless, unceasing, the boat in a constant, rocking motion.

  She had never been away from home before. She’d camped out in the woods, of course, but always with Eoin or her brothers or both. This was the first night of her life, since Eoin had rescued her, that she’d been without her family.

  Rae knew she was going to feel sorry for herself now. She fought as long as she could, but the grief overwhelmed her in a sudden wave, and the sobs came.

  * * *

  Zander heard her. From his perch on the captain’s chair, swiveled away from the controls, he heard Rae’s broken crying.

  The poor thing
was terrified. He’d seen it and sensed it. Stupid-ass Shifters had dumped a scared young woman on Zander because they couldn’t handle that the Goddess was capricious.

  Why were all these Shifters so surprised that the Goddess had chosen a female to represent her? The Goddess was female, after all. The biggest surprise was that she’d waited so long.

  The Shifters, even Eoin, alpha that he was, had sent Rae to Zander because they were afraid of Rae. Afraid of what she represented, afraid of what she’d become.

  Rae with her dark hair and rain-gray eyes had been forced to leave everything she’d ever known in order to eat sandwiches with half-insane Zander on his cluttered boat in the middle of nowhere. He wasn’t amazed to hear Rae cry; he was amazed she hadn’t become a raving lunatic the moment Eoin had left her.

  “Poor Little Wolf,” he whispered to the dusk.

  Zander gazed across the water, tracing the path of moonlight, which had finally appeared. The roof of the wheelhouse cut off the stars directly above him but he picked the bright ones out on the horizon. No other lights for miles meant the heavens were spangled with stars, the beauty of it tugging his heart.

  The northwestern horizon was darkening a little though, clouds filling the space. They’d have rain and more wind by morning.

  Below him, Rae’s sobs died away. Good, she’d sleep, worn-out, and be fresh and ready to yell at him in the morning.

  Zander chuckled. He kind of liked her shouting at him. Her eyes got sparkly and her cheeks flushed, and she forgot her fear.

  He closed his eyes, picturing her in the sunshine, scowling at him, and let himself relax. The chair wasn’t so uncomfortable, though he’d probably end up stretching full length on the deck . . .

  He was just drifting off when Rae’s terrified scream cut through the night.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Zander was on his feet and plunging down the ladder to the cabin before his sleep-filled brain truly cleared. Rae’s screams changed to a wolf’s snarls as Zander burst inside to find the lights blazing. Rae’s half-human, half-wolf paw came down to strike at what looked like a rope on the floor.