Read Online Consumed (Dark Protectors) by Rebecca Zanetti - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rebecca Zanetti
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right. Then the left. Finally, the monster’s head rolled away from the body.
“I’m sorry,” Jordan whispered.
Lance eyed Jordan, nodded at Katie, and ran full bore into the house to help Baye, clearing the porch in a graceful leap.
Standing up, Jordan turned toward her. Savagery slashed into very lines of his chiseled face. Sorrow cut deeper in his eyes. “I should never have allowed you to be part of this.”
Understanding and sympathy slid through her. It wasn’t the killing. The pain lay in the fact that the shifter had probably once been a good man. “This is on the Kurjans, Jordan. Not us.”
“Is it?” He glanced at Baye, who carried out the head of another werewolf—this one a dark brown.
Baye threw the head toward the trees. “Only two werewolves. Neither were Brent.” A long scratch marred his left cheek, and blood covered his torso. “You’re gonna want to see this.” He disappeared back inside.
Katie hurried forward, clutching Jordan’s arm. “You are not responsible for the evil brought by the Kurjans.”
His bicep flexed. “How can I not be?” He stared at the blood now covering his cowboy boots. “I thought I’d be the best choice to lead. I made sure I was the only choice.” He shook his head, fury vibrating from his strong body. “Maybe I was wrong.”
She dug her nails in. “Stop it.” What the heck was going on? “I have a sense of Brent. The guy is pure evil—he would’ve destroyed the feline nation. You did the right thing. And now, you’re doing your job by chasing monsters.”
“When you chase monsters, you’re really chasing yourself.” Jordan grabbed her hand, striding toward the building. “Watch your step on the stairs.”
Wow. They were definitely going to discuss his family tree later. Katie gingerly stepped over a damaged board, crossing the destroyed porch and entering the dark dwelling. The stench of wet dog hit her immediately. Her stomach rolled. She took an involuntary step away. A warm hand settled on her back, providing comfort. Somehow Jordan had always known how to calm her.
She gathered courage and looked around. Dead and half-eaten animals covered the kitchen counters to the left, a ripped sofa perched against the wall to the right. Different colors of fur were embedded in the old cushions. No bathroom appeared visible, but Baye stood next to the one interior doorway, anger on his face.
He kept her gaze.
Icy fingers danced down her spine. “What?”
“Look inside the bedroom.” He tilted his head inside the doorway.
The air thickened. A familiar oiliness covered her skin. Evil. “Brent’s bedroom?” She walked inside and stopped short. The room was devoid of furniture except for a filthy mattress on the floor. The window had been boarded up, but enough light shone through the gaps to highlight the walls. Lance sat on his back haunches, ears twitching.
Jordan swore from behind her, brushing past to go closer to the photographs lining the wall. Pictures of her. In front of her building, at a movie theater with Maggie, at the grocery store. He whirled on her, fury lifting his lip. “Explain this.”
She stepped back. “I ... I ... can’t.” A picture from last week when she’d met a friend in a bar caught her eye. Maggie had arranged her first date with Mitch. The guy had been a football player more interested in talking about shoes than football. She hadn’t noticed anybody taking pictures, or even taking an interest in them. How was this possible?
“Werewolves don’t fucking take pictures.” Jordan swept an arm out. “Somebody got close enough to you, several times, to take your picture.” He pivoted and peered at the neatly arranged collage, walking along the wall. Finally, he turned toward Baye. “You and Lance aren’t in any—these were taken when you two weren’t around.”
“Which means the photographer was probably shifter, demon, or vampire,” Baye growled. “We would’ve sensed them.”
Katie shoved
“I’m sorry,” Jordan whispered.
Lance eyed Jordan, nodded at Katie, and ran full bore into the house to help Baye, clearing the porch in a graceful leap.
Standing up, Jordan turned toward her. Savagery slashed into very lines of his chiseled face. Sorrow cut deeper in his eyes. “I should never have allowed you to be part of this.”
Understanding and sympathy slid through her. It wasn’t the killing. The pain lay in the fact that the shifter had probably once been a good man. “This is on the Kurjans, Jordan. Not us.”
“Is it?” He glanced at Baye, who carried out the head of another werewolf—this one a dark brown.
Baye threw the head toward the trees. “Only two werewolves. Neither were Brent.” A long scratch marred his left cheek, and blood covered his torso. “You’re gonna want to see this.” He disappeared back inside.
Katie hurried forward, clutching Jordan’s arm. “You are not responsible for the evil brought by the Kurjans.”
His bicep flexed. “How can I not be?” He stared at the blood now covering his cowboy boots. “I thought I’d be the best choice to lead. I made sure I was the only choice.” He shook his head, fury vibrating from his strong body. “Maybe I was wrong.”
She dug her nails in. “Stop it.” What the heck was going on? “I have a sense of Brent. The guy is pure evil—he would’ve destroyed the feline nation. You did the right thing. And now, you’re doing your job by chasing monsters.”
“When you chase monsters, you’re really chasing yourself.” Jordan grabbed her hand, striding toward the building. “Watch your step on the stairs.”
Wow. They were definitely going to discuss his family tree later. Katie gingerly stepped over a damaged board, crossing the destroyed porch and entering the dark dwelling. The stench of wet dog hit her immediately. Her stomach rolled. She took an involuntary step away. A warm hand settled on her back, providing comfort. Somehow Jordan had always known how to calm her.
She gathered courage and looked around. Dead and half-eaten animals covered the kitchen counters to the left, a ripped sofa perched against the wall to the right. Different colors of fur were embedded in the old cushions. No bathroom appeared visible, but Baye stood next to the one interior doorway, anger on his face.
He kept her gaze.
Icy fingers danced down her spine. “What?”
“Look inside the bedroom.” He tilted his head inside the doorway.
The air thickened. A familiar oiliness covered her skin. Evil. “Brent’s bedroom?” She walked inside and stopped short. The room was devoid of furniture except for a filthy mattress on the floor. The window had been boarded up, but enough light shone through the gaps to highlight the walls. Lance sat on his back haunches, ears twitching.
Jordan swore from behind her, brushing past to go closer to the photographs lining the wall. Pictures of her. In front of her building, at a movie theater with Maggie, at the grocery store. He whirled on her, fury lifting his lip. “Explain this.”
She stepped back. “I ... I ... can’t.” A picture from last week when she’d met a friend in a bar caught her eye. Maggie had arranged her first date with Mitch. The guy had been a football player more interested in talking about shoes than football. She hadn’t noticed anybody taking pictures, or even taking an interest in them. How was this possible?
“Werewolves don’t fucking take pictures.” Jordan swept an arm out. “Somebody got close enough to you, several times, to take your picture.” He pivoted and peered at the neatly arranged collage, walking along the wall. Finally, he turned toward Baye. “You and Lance aren’t in any—these were taken when you two weren’t around.”
“Which means the photographer was probably shifter, demon, or vampire,” Baye growled. “We would’ve sensed them.”
Katie shoved
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