Battered Not Broken (2 page)

The growls from Conner and Max grew louder,
drawing his attention away from his task. Max, being the bigger of
the two, pinned Conner to the ground and held him with his
razor-sharp teeth, clutching his throat. Conner continued to
struggle and swipe at Max, but Max didn’t look as if he would
release him anytime soon.

Dropping to all fours, Ronan loped toward the
two bears. Several feet from them, he growled low, but steady,
showing his displeasure. Max’s eye met his for a moment before he
released Conner with a snort. Sometimes, just sometimes, the bear
took too much control and animal instinct overrode their human
emotions.

Most confrontations between bears were
one-on-one. With a third left out of the fight, there would always
be someone around to break it up. That’s what made their brotherly
triad work.

Ronan shook his head at the two of them then
turned and started for home. Darkness would be upon them soon and
the fire he’d started before leaving the cabin beckoned him. The
sounds of Conner and Max following in his footsteps met his ears
and he was pleased they’d decided to follow. While he couldn’t
force them to head home with him, he always enjoyed their
company.

As they trudged through the forest’s
undergrowth, Ronan used his body to push bushes and branches out of
his way, his fur-encased feet sloshing in the wet snow. The falling
snow turned to sleet and coated his fur and he was thankful for the
insulation his bear form provided from the elements. His breath
turned white as it met the frigid air and he didn’t look forward to
changing back to his naked human form on the back porch of their
cabin.
No bears in the house.
That was their rule. It had
actually been their mother’s rule, but they had kept it in place
even if she did live on the other side of the country.

The scent of his fire and the plume of smoke
rising above the trees guided him home. As he approached the back
porch he shook off the excess snow and moisture before making his
way up the steel reinforced steps and then waited for his brothers
to join him.

They formed their sacred triangle and recited
the ancient words calling upon the Maker to assist in their change
from beast to man. As one, the mists rose and enveloped their
bestial bodies and flowed into their noses and mouths to touch
their souls. Bones cracked while muscles retracted and shifted,
changing them from bear to mirror images of each other. In seconds,
with no hint of pain, men stood where bears once did. The moment
the transformation was complete, the mystical ancient mist returned
to its place within the earth, leaving them naked and cold.

Without waiting for his brothers, Ronan
dashed for the back door and darted toward the living room.
Snatching his sweatpants from the couch, he yanked them on and then
wrapped a blanket around his shoulder before flopping onto the worn
sofa. The worst part of shifting from beast to man in the dead of
winter? The cold. It was enough to make his balls hibernate in his
chest for the season. Goose-bumps lined his skin as he shook,
slumped on the couch letting the warmth from the fire seep into his
body.
Heaven.

Conner and Max were quick to follow, both of
them going through the same motions he just had. When they had all
settled on the couch before the roaring hearth, Ronan relaxed into
the cushions.

The scents of home teased his nostrils—a mix
of burning wood, his brothers' musk, and cinnamon permeated the
entire cabin. But he sensed something else, something different,
new…feminine?
No.
No woman lived on the mountain. The
closest woman was the forest ranger, and she lived at least twenty
miles away, in town. He must be just catching her leftover scent
from her last visit. But it didn’t smell like her. It smelled like
vanilla and lavender, with just a hint of mint. So sweet.
Intoxicating. Raising his head off the couch, Ronan looked at
Conner and Max. They both held the same expression of confusion he
was sure he wore. Did they smell the fragrance too?

Rising from the couch, Ronan tightened the
blanket around his shoulders, hesitant to lose the warmth he’d
acquired. He paused near the living room entrance as something on
the floor caught his eye. Muddy footprints marred his perfectly
polished wood floors. Mud! The perpetrator was a dead man walking.
When he glanced over his shoulder he saw Conner and Max had risen
to follow him. Ronan pressed his finger to his lips, motioning for
them to remain silent.

Ronan followed the prints through their home,
cringing with each step as he saw more and more mud and melted snow
defacing his beautiful floors. The hint of scent he’d caught in the
living room grew stronger as he traveled down the hall.

They seemed to travel from room to room,
stopping first at the bathroom, and then traveling to Max’s
bedroom, before moving to Conner’s and finally entering his. His
room. The owner of the addictive scent and muddy feet quite
possibly resided on the other side of
his
closed bedroom
door.

The muddy footprints disappeared beneath his
door. Not only did the owner of the lovely scent teasing his
nostrils reside on the other side of the inch of wood, so did the
owner of the muddy marks.

The two halves of his being warred within;
the human side, holding steadfast to his fastidious nature, raged
at the dirt, snow and mud traipsed through his home. Meanwhile, his
beast roared in triumph over finding its mate.

Its mate?
No. His beast was just
hungry. After all, they’d been out into the snow-laden forest and
hadn’t hunted while they were out. His mate couldn’t be on the
other side of the door, could she?

“Ronan?”

Max growled at him. Growled! His gaze shifted
to his brother and he found a look which surely mirrored his own.
Lust, hunger, and need flashed across Max’s face. One look at
Conner, and he saw the same.

His voice just a whisper, he addressed his
brothers.

“We don’t touch her. We’ll talk about it
after we figure out who she is, and why she’s here. For now, we
keep our distance until we know more, agreed?”

They replied in unison through gritted,
grinding teeth.

“Agreed.”

Ronan turned the knob and pushed open the
door on its silent hinges and stared at the beauty…and she was
filthy…and, goddamn it, in his bed!

Gillian wasn’t sure what woke her. One moment
she lazed in a blissful, dreamless sleep and the next her body
jerked, muscles tensing as her eyes shot open. Sleep blurred her
vision, but her ears picked up deep, baritone voices while her eyes
discerned three large shapes near the bed.

He’d found her. Her heart sank, and her fear
rose.
So quick, how did he always seem to be so quick?
They
hadn’t seemed to have noticed she had awoken, they continued their
argument. With small, snakelike movements, she inched her way to
the opposite side of the bed, their voices still low and angry.

She blinked to clear the sleepy haze of her
vision, and focused on three identical men standing in a circle
mere feet from where she lay.

Ohshitohfuckohshitohfuck!

They stood, albeit preoccupied, between her
and freedom. Her muscles ached and stung, making their protest
known as she covertly shifted and squirmed to the opposite side of
the bed, placing as much space as she could between her and them.
She kept her attention focused on the men as she moved. She reached
the edge of the bed, but just as she was about to tip over the edge
and drop to the floor, one of the men noticed her.

“Hey! She’s awake!” The man on the left
elbowed the man in the middle.

Three sets of crystal blue eyes swung to meet
hers. Without thought she dropped to the ground beside the bed,
grunting when her feet screamed in protest. She couldn’t think
about pain now. Kyle had sent them to take her back. He was
probably nearby and the moment he got his hands on her, she’d be
dead. But she’d die fighting them before she gave Kyle the
satisfaction of killing her.

Gillian’s eyes darted around the room,
searching for a weapon, but none lay within reach. Staying in a low
crouch, her back struck the wall as she tried to put more distance
between her and the men. Her heart hammered her chest while her
breath came in great bellows. A panic attack loomed on the horizon,
but she couldn’t let her panic overtake her, she needed to remain
calm; hyperventilating wouldn’t get her out of this mess.

Staying low, she eased to the foot of the
bed, but the men kept their distance. It was now or never. Gillian
gathered her remaining strength then darted for the open door. She
made it to the doorway before muscled arms wrapped around her
waist, halting her escape.

Tears poured down her face as she hammered at
her captor, struggling to free herself, but it was no use, his grip
was like iron. The men’s voices raised, but she couldn’t understand
what they were saying over the roar of her own heartbeat echoing in
her ears.

I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I
don’t want to die.

Another set of arms scooped her away from her
captor and the room fell silent. A few whispered words made it
through, halting her struggles.

“You’re not going to die, poppet. We’ll
protect you. No one here will hurt you, ever.”

The man who cradled her in his arms sat on
the bed, placing her in his lap with care. Her heart raced and her
breath came in frightened pants as two sets of blue eyes bore into
her. One of the men reached toward her and she flinched on
instinct.

Gillian swallowed hard, wincing with the pain
that remained. “I’m sorry I broke into your house. I’ll just get my
shoes…” She tried to wiggle free of the man’s grasp.

“You’re not going anywhere,” the man in front
of her growled.

The man holding her tightened his arms around
her and growled back at the one before her. “Ronan. If you can’t
stay calm, leave. Better yet, why don’t you both leave? Max, take
Ronan out of here.”

The man she now knew as Max tugged on Ronan’s
sleeve and they both backed out of the room, leaving her alone with
the man whose name she still didn’t know.

He slid her off his lap and onto the bed,
before dropping to his knees on the floor in front of her. His hand
approached her face and she flinched again. She snapped her eyes
shut and waited for the hit to come, but it didn’t.
Why hadn’t
he just hit her already?

Opening her eyes, she found him staring at
her, mouth hanging agape, eyes wide. He eased back, putting more
space between them before he spoke. His hands rested on the bed,
one on each side of her hips.

“My name’s Conner. We’re not mad you broke
in. Why don’t you tell me your name?” Conner’s voice was deep,
soft, soothing her nerves and calming her heart as he spoke.
Was
he lulling her into submission before he pounced?

“Gillian.” Her throat, still raw from Kyle’s
most recent attack, ached.

“Gillian.” His eyes flicked down her legs and
she was reminded of the throbbing pain in her feet. “You’re hurt,
Gillian.”

Adrenaline had kept the aches at bay, but
they were slowly returning with full force. Her ankles, feet and
toes were covered in blisters and raw spots. Some of them oozed
blood, staining the carpet and smearing on the floor.

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… I’ll
just clean up this mess and get out of your way. I’m so sorry.” She
was babbling, she knew it, but couldn’t stop.

Gillian reached for her snow-soaked shoes and
socks and saw what she’d missed when she kicked them off before
climbing into bed. Amidst the mud stains were dark splotches of
red—blood red. The cold had deadened her nerves, making her poor
feet numb and they’d paid the price. Her feet throbbed at the
thought of putting the shoes back on. Conner’s warm hands wrapped
around hers, and before she could snatch them away, he placed her
hands on her thighs and released her.

“We’d like you to stay. You’re obviously
hurt. There wasn’t a car parked out front when we came home and
it’s obvious you walked and we can’t, in good conscience, let you
go back out in that weather. You’re welcome to stay here,
Gillian.”

Gillian twined her fingers as she thought
about her options. Honestly? There weren’t any options. It wasn’t
like she was in any condition to walk and her car had died along
the road. If these three weren’t after her she now had to worry
about them, too. If she stayed like Connor asked, what would Kyle
do to them when he found her? It was no longer a question of if,
but when.

“But I’m a stranger to you. Your brother,
Ronan, didn’t seem too thrilled with me…”

His warm hands enveloped hers and Gillian’s
gaze traveled up his toned honey-tinted arms across his broad
shoulders and came to rest on Conner’s face. Kind eyes bored into
hers and she felt as if she could get lost in them forever.

“Believe me, Ronan doesn’t want you back out
there any more than I do. Besides, we’re three men living in the
middle of nowhere with only each other for company. It’ll be a
pleasure to have someone to talk to.” Conner gave her a small
smile, a simple tilting of his lips, barely revealing his bright
white teeth.

“You’re sure?” Gillian hated taking advantage
of the brothers’ hospitality, but she couldn’t afford to turn it
down, not with her feet shredded the way they were and her car not
operating. She wouldn’t stay long, but she couldn’t run without
getting some rest. She’d stay a day, two tops. Just spend some time
recovering.

“I’m more than sure.” Conner unfolded his
body from the floor in one fluid movement. Gillian followed his
progress with her eyes and was amazed at how tall he was. Sitting
on the bed as she was, Conner towered above her. “Now, how about a
bath? Or a shower?”