Read Online Dark and Damaged: Eight Tortured Heroes of Paranormal Romance: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set by Colleen Gleason - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Colleen Gleason
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his deep voice. “I think it’s too late for an investigation, Dylan. They’re coming.”
Ronan didn’t specify who
they
were, but there wasn’t much mistaking the sirens that wailed across the fields and from the end of the drive to the house.
Dylan had pulled on jeans and a button-down shirt. “Inside,” he commanded.
“Now.”
Seamus grabbed Bree’s hand and hustled her across the damp lawn toward the house, sweeping up the pile of his clothes on the way. Bree stumbled up the steps and into the kitchen as the harsh sound of sirens coated the air.
CHAPTER 7
“Seriously—who called the cops?” Nadine demanded as Seamus and Bree, Dylan, Sean, and Tiger entered the kitchen. Dylan closed the door behind them and locked it. The other Shifters had faded from sight outside, blending into the early gray light.
Bree’s heart was pounding. Seamus still had hold of her hand. They were bound together through the clasp, as though Seamus wouldn’t go feral as long as they didn’t part.
Spike had handed Dylan the shotgun. Dylan popped the cartridges out and gave the unloaded gun back to Nadine. She took it, tight-lipped, but locked the gun into the cabinet inside the basement door. She wasn’t foolish enough to go waving it around in front of police—well, not again, anyway. A night in jail in Louisiana had cured her of that.
“Who, is a good question,” Dylan said. He moved to the front room, his words trailing behind him.
Seamus released Bree to resume his clothes, but he didn’t move far from her. He was settling the T-shirt as Sean unstrapped the sword from his back.
The sword was gigantic, with a broad hilt, and looked very old. Letters Bree couldn’t decipher were etched on the hilt and the crosspiece, running down into the sheath.
The Sword of the Guardian, Bree knew, though she’d never seen one. The blade was driven through the heart of a Shifter who’d died or was dying, to turn his or her body to dust and release the soul to the Summerland, the afterlife.
This sword, which looked ancient, must have gone through many Shifters in its time. Bree took a step back as Sean held it across both hands, and she noticed that Seamus did as well.
“Will ye lock this in yon cabinet with your weapons, lass?” Sean asked Nadine. “Can’t be letting the cops get hold of it.”
Nadine heaved a sigh and beckoned him to follow. Sean went with her to the basement door.
Dylan returned to the kitchen. Bree couldn’t see the other Shifters outside, but then, Shifters were good at hiding themselves.
The easiest thing Dylan could do was hand off Seamus to the cops. He could claim that Nadine and Bree had been Seamus’s hostages, and Dylan and his Shifters had come here to rescue them and take Seamus in themselves.
Everyone would be happy, except Seamus, who’d be tranqued and taken away, likely to be put into a cage and then terminated. Bree was well aware what humans did to Shifters who were considered dangerous.
Bree sent Dylan a narrow look. “Don’t you dare. You don’t even know if he’s guilty.”
Dylan ignored her. He’d taken what looked like a chain from his pocket, and now he dangled it in front of Seamus.
The chain was of silver and black metal, woven into thick links. At its end hung a pendant, the Celtic knot, which would rest against Seamus’s throat. Dylan wore an identical chain, as did all the Shifters here. A Collar.
Seamus’s face went gray. “No, I can’t.”
“Suck it up and put it on,” Dylan said sternly. “The police can’t see you without one.”
“It’s fake.” The slow growl of Tiger’s voice filled the room. The big man with eyes as golden as Seamus’s touched the Celtic knot on his own Collar. “Like mine.”
Sean returned to them as Nadine moved behind him and, of all things, started making coffee. “That’s supposed to be a secret, big guy,” Sean said to Tiger.
“They need to know,” Tiger answered.
Fake?
Seamus was studying the Collar in grave
Ronan didn’t specify who
they
were, but there wasn’t much mistaking the sirens that wailed across the fields and from the end of the drive to the house.
Dylan had pulled on jeans and a button-down shirt. “Inside,” he commanded.
“Now.”
Seamus grabbed Bree’s hand and hustled her across the damp lawn toward the house, sweeping up the pile of his clothes on the way. Bree stumbled up the steps and into the kitchen as the harsh sound of sirens coated the air.
CHAPTER 7
“Seriously—who called the cops?” Nadine demanded as Seamus and Bree, Dylan, Sean, and Tiger entered the kitchen. Dylan closed the door behind them and locked it. The other Shifters had faded from sight outside, blending into the early gray light.
Bree’s heart was pounding. Seamus still had hold of her hand. They were bound together through the clasp, as though Seamus wouldn’t go feral as long as they didn’t part.
Spike had handed Dylan the shotgun. Dylan popped the cartridges out and gave the unloaded gun back to Nadine. She took it, tight-lipped, but locked the gun into the cabinet inside the basement door. She wasn’t foolish enough to go waving it around in front of police—well, not again, anyway. A night in jail in Louisiana had cured her of that.
“Who, is a good question,” Dylan said. He moved to the front room, his words trailing behind him.
Seamus released Bree to resume his clothes, but he didn’t move far from her. He was settling the T-shirt as Sean unstrapped the sword from his back.
The sword was gigantic, with a broad hilt, and looked very old. Letters Bree couldn’t decipher were etched on the hilt and the crosspiece, running down into the sheath.
The Sword of the Guardian, Bree knew, though she’d never seen one. The blade was driven through the heart of a Shifter who’d died or was dying, to turn his or her body to dust and release the soul to the Summerland, the afterlife.
This sword, which looked ancient, must have gone through many Shifters in its time. Bree took a step back as Sean held it across both hands, and she noticed that Seamus did as well.
“Will ye lock this in yon cabinet with your weapons, lass?” Sean asked Nadine. “Can’t be letting the cops get hold of it.”
Nadine heaved a sigh and beckoned him to follow. Sean went with her to the basement door.
Dylan returned to the kitchen. Bree couldn’t see the other Shifters outside, but then, Shifters were good at hiding themselves.
The easiest thing Dylan could do was hand off Seamus to the cops. He could claim that Nadine and Bree had been Seamus’s hostages, and Dylan and his Shifters had come here to rescue them and take Seamus in themselves.
Everyone would be happy, except Seamus, who’d be tranqued and taken away, likely to be put into a cage and then terminated. Bree was well aware what humans did to Shifters who were considered dangerous.
Bree sent Dylan a narrow look. “Don’t you dare. You don’t even know if he’s guilty.”
Dylan ignored her. He’d taken what looked like a chain from his pocket, and now he dangled it in front of Seamus.
The chain was of silver and black metal, woven into thick links. At its end hung a pendant, the Celtic knot, which would rest against Seamus’s throat. Dylan wore an identical chain, as did all the Shifters here. A Collar.
Seamus’s face went gray. “No, I can’t.”
“Suck it up and put it on,” Dylan said sternly. “The police can’t see you without one.”
“It’s fake.” The slow growl of Tiger’s voice filled the room. The big man with eyes as golden as Seamus’s touched the Celtic knot on his own Collar. “Like mine.”
Sean returned to them as Nadine moved behind him and, of all things, started making coffee. “That’s supposed to be a secret, big guy,” Sean said to Tiger.
“They need to know,” Tiger answered.
Fake?
Seamus was studying the Collar in grave
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