Read Her Wild Protector (Paranormal Romance) Online
Authors: Naomi Bellina
Her Wild Protector (Paranormal Romance)
Since waking up on the floor of her apartment after an electrical shock, Tara has felt…different. Colors a little off. Shadows where they shouldn’t be. But hot guys glowing blue light and a cheetah drinking a cup of coffee? That’s not something you see every day. And why doesn’t anyone else seem to notice?
The pillar of blue light is Marshall, a Metamorph—a human who can change at will into an animal or energy form. His human form is damn fine-looking, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t crazy, with his stories about belonging to a secret government agency and rogue Metamorphs trying to kill her. Plus he wears sunglasses indoors—who still does that? But when there’s a panther scratching at her door, she has no choice but to trust Marshall, even if it means her life will never be the same.
Her Wild Protector
Naomi Bellina
This book is dedicated to all the STARs who offered their words of wisdom. I love you guys!
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Tara tore off her pantyhose and wadded them in a ball, throwing the sweaty garment on the floor.
Who the hell wears pantyhose in Florida?
Women with a demonic supervisor, that’s who.
Tara’s daily attire usually consisted of comfortable, casual pants and a business-friendly top, but when visiting dignitaries invaded the Canaveral Port Authority office, her manager strongly suggested she don a dress and nylons.
As if the dignitary was going to make it all the way back to her little corner of the workplace. Most of the time, the officials were ushered into the conference room, where they spent an hour or two, and then were whisked away to the next destination. Tara often didn’t even know visitors were in the building and they certainly weren’t aware of her.
She dug in her refrigerator, wondering what else she could throw in a bowl of spaghetti to disguise the fact that it was leftover leftovers, and almost fell inside as a loud crash came from the apartment above. There was the sound of a woman’s laughter, and then rhythmic thumping began.
Tara moaned. Not again. The couple that lived upstairs frequently engaged in loud, raucous sex that went on and on, sometimes for over an hour. Though part of her was happy that someone was enjoying boisterous sex, the sounds were not only annoying, but they also served as a reminder of her own nonexistent love life. Normally she waited out the intercourse interlude, but today she was not up to dealing with it. There was no reason for all that noise. People who lived in apartments should have respect for their neighbors.
She grabbed a broom and jabbed the handle several times into her ceiling. The sounds from overhead ceased for a moment, then after another peel of laughter from the woman, they resumed. Tara debated continuing her assault with the broom, but decided against it. She didn’t know the couple and didn’t want to antagonize her neighbors. At least they were quiet most of the time.
Instead, she turned on the television to drown out the noise and flipped through the channels. She stopped when she came to a channel where a symphony played a haunting, melancholy tune. The classical song stirred a memory buried deep inside. Though she couldn’t place where and when she’d last heard the melody, she remembered holding the hand of her companion and smiling, content, as they listened. Tears pricked her eyelids and she forced them down. She’d cried quite enough in the past years.
The sounds of love from above grew louder and she jabbed the volume button on the remote control. Nothing happened. It probably needed new batteries—one more thing that hadn’t made it to the shopping list this week. Hauling herself off the couch, she pushed the control on the television set. Still nothing. This appliance was on its last leg, she knew, but she intended to nurse it along as long as she could. Surely, with a little tweaking, the volume could be made to work. Grabbing a screwdriver from the kitchen, she unfastened the back panel. The voice of reason told her to unplug the unit first, but if she did, she wouldn’t be able to hear to adjust the sound, she argued. Truthfully, she was impatient and wanted to drown out the racket from the lovebirds immediately.
There, that looked like a loose wire. If she could just wiggle it a little…
The second she touched it a jolt ran through her body. She yelped and backed away, and as she did, tripped over the wadded pantyhose, turned to try to catch her balance and fell facedown on the floor. The thin carpet offered no protection and she felt a brief moment of pain and then nothing.
* * *
Opening her eyes, Tara’s first thought was that she was in bed and her mattress was mighty hard. She slowly sat up and a stabbing pain in her forehead reminded her what had happened. Looking at the clock, she saw it was time to get up for work. She stood. No bones were broken, and when she looked in the mirror her pupils appeared normal, though her forehead was swollen.
She rushed through her morning routine because she had to be at work early today. The visiting dignitary was in again and her supervisor requested she arrive before her normal starting time to make coffee. Though she was certain coffee making was not in her employment description as an accountant, Tara didn’t argue.
The cursed nylons she’d worn the day before were torn, and after rooting through her dresser drawers, all she could find was a pair of stockings and a garter belt, remnants from better times. Wearing the racy articles of clothing gave her a little tingle as her bare thighs touched each other. Though not overweight, she wasn’t a beanpole, and her legs had a bit of meat on them. Skin on skin felt different than having the barrier of material between her legs, and for some reason, this extra bit of stimulation felt particularly good today.
Tingling wasn’t the only odd sensation she felt. Everything looked different. Colors were brighter, more vivid, and she saw flashes of light and movement in the corners of her vision. Concerned that these apparitions were a result of smacking her head on the floor, she decided to visit the doctor later in the day if the situation didn’t improve. Her forehead was noticeably swollen and bruised, and she was thankful she wore her hair in bangs.
The workday progressed with its normal dull routine up to lunchtime. Tara pulled her purse from her drawer and turned down her computer. Her coworker looked up from a document she was perusing.
“Where are you going so early?” Brenda asked. “It’s not your lunchtime yet.”
Tara started to argue, then looked at her clock.
“It’s only eleven,” Brenda said, and Tara saw she was right.
“My morning work is done. Usually when that happens it’s time for lunch. How did I get finished so quickly?” Tara looked around her desk, expecting to see something she’d missed, but it was true, all her reports were finished, emails were sent and phone calls returned.
“I’m going to lunch, anyway. I’m starving,” Tara said. It would make for a long afternoon, but she didn’t care. She grabbed her sandwich and apple and went outside to sit at the employee picnic table, which was thankfully empty.
Looking around, she marveled at the vibrant colors. She closed her eyes and listened, tuning in to every sound. How had she not noticed how many birds sang each day? The scent of the water and the sea breeze filled her nostrils, stronger than she ever remembered. She smiled, letting the sun caress her face. A small spark of joy lit her soul and she savored the moment, remembering when she used to take pleasure from times like this every day. Since the Divorce from Hell, nothing was able to stir her heart. She moved through her days like a marionette, doing what was expected of her and little more.
This beauty was why she’d moved down here with Karl three years ago when he got that wonderful job. They both thought the area would make a great home. She’d done a bit of research and found many top-rated schools and the size and value of home they could afford was excellent. Sure, the summers were hot, but winter in Florida was paradise. It seemed like a dream come true.
Unfortunately, after one year of heaven, the economy took a downturn and Karl was laid off shortly thereafter. He turned out to have little motivation and was perfectly content to collect unemployment and stay home and drink beer and watch television while they lived off her salary and drained their savings account.
His unemployment benefits ran out soon and they were forced to sell their perfect little home and move into a small rental. Though Tara begged Karl to take some type of job, he insisted nothing was good enough for him. He was waiting for the perfect position that would open up any day. When her high-paying temp job ended, Tara took a long, hard look at her life. Though the prudent thing to do would have been to move back to the Midwest where they had friends and family, she was starting to love the area and wanted to stay.
Anyway, the idea of returning home with her tail between her legs was unacceptable. Tara was a fighter and she would not admit defeat, so when Karl approached her with a business investment he swore would be a sure thing, she’d reluctantly agreed and allowed him to use every cent they had left.
Just thinking about what happened next made her stomach knot up. Things had gone downhill fast after that. She left Karl, moved into a tiny apartment and gratefully took the first job she could get. Thinking of her past usually made Tara want to smack herself for being a first-class fool. Today, however, something had shifted. That small spark of spirit that had been in hiding burned stronger. She hummed a tune, one she and her mother used to sing, and went back to work feeling energized. She flew through the second half of the day’s work and when the phone rang she picked it up with a cheerful greeting.
“This is Tara in accounting, how can I help you?”
“I’m pretty much beyond help, girlfriend,” a lively voice announced. “But you can help yourself and come on out for Thirsty Thursday. Don’t you dare say
no.
I’ve heard that
way
too many times.”
Tara’s usual refusal sprang to her lips. She was still licking her wounds from the nasty battle with her ex-husband and was not ready to sashay into the meat market of after-hours bar drinking. She paused, recalling the sublime feeling of fresh air and sunshine on her skin. The bar her coworkers patronized had an outdoor seating area on the water and today the weather was perfect.
“Okay, I’ll be there,” Tara was slightly surprised to hear herself say.
“You will?” Lola asked. “All right! I’ll save you a seat next to me. We’ll have fun, you’ll see.” Her friend’s excitement was almost contagious. Almost.
“I just want to get out for a little while. I’m not going to stay late and I don’t want you trying to hook me up with any guys.”
“Now, would I do that?” Lola asked. Tara pictured her friend with the wicked grin she knew was on her face.
“Yes, you would and you have. I don’t need a man in my life right now, so no matchmaking.”
“There’s this new guy in my office that might come. You two would be perfect together.”
Tara sighed, loud enough so Lola could hear. “What did I just say? No men! I’m doing fine by myself.”
“Okay, if you call living in a shoe box and eating cereal and frozen pizza for dinner every night fine, then I’ll leave you alone and let you enjoy your life. I hear there are some great movies on PBS on Saturday. That’s where you’ve been hanging out on the weekends, right?”
Tara winced. Her friend was right. However, although Lola’s description did sum up her existence at the moment, it was how she chose to live. No dates, a miserable social life and a simple, undemanding job. She didn’t trust men, and she didn’t trust herself anymore, either. The low-level administrative position she held was all she felt capable of performing right now, even though she disliked it immensely and was often bored. When she thought of taking on a more challenging position, her mind flashed to those hours sitting in the lawyer’s office as Karl had listed her shortcomings, and she shuddered. “Hey, sorry, that was kind of harsh,” Lola said, a note of sympathy in her tone. “I just don’t want to see you dry up and turn into some kind of crazy old lady because of one asshole. There are still a few good men out there and you’ll find one, but you’ve got to get your behind out of your apartment.”
“I know, I know—I said I’d come. I’ll talk. I’ll mingle. I’ll drink. No romance just yet, okay? Promise?”
“All right, I promise. See you soon!”
* * *
“So then I said…hey, are you listening to me?” Lola asked, waving her hand in front of Tara’s face.
“Yes, I’m listening. You said Alice ate someone’s month-old sandwich she stole from the lunchroom refrigerator and got sick.”
“You don’t seem especially interested in my fascinating story. Your eyes are meandering around like your brain is somewhere far away. Are you thinking about anything particular? Something you want to share?”
Tara didn’t. She was thinking about nothing and enjoying it immensely. She listened to Lola with only half her concentration.