My Feline Protector (Middlemarch Shifters Book 6) (23 page)

Royce took half a step back while London circled around, ready to offer aid. She picked up a fist-size stone from the edge of the gravel area, feeling better for the weapon.

Royce glanced at her or where she’d been when he last saw her. He swiveled until she was in his sight again. “Where did he come from? You see it?”

Gerard sprang, sending Royce sprawling forward. Royce landed heavily on the gravel and grunted at the impact. He groaned and struggled to his feet.

Gerard watched him with an unblinking stare.

Royce’s gaze fastened on her, and he lumbered toward her, determination etched into his expression. Blood trickled down his cheek, and the knee of his black trousers bore a rip. “Bitch. Ya got me so angry, I’m seeing things.”

Without a second thought, London fired her rock at Royce. It struck his shoulder with a thunk, and he cried out. London seized the opportunity and jumped at him, shoving him hard with all her might. Off balance, he fell to the ground.

In the distance, the screech of sirens carried on the air, coming in their direction. Thank goodness.

Gerard barked out a growl—a clear demand for her to back off. She retreated, and Gerard disappeared into the house. Royce picked himself up, snarling and sounding more like a beast than Gerard. Keeping her eyes on him, she back-pedaled.

He cackled, an edge of madness to the humor. “Can’t escape me. I’m gonna catch you and stick you with a knife, just like your bitch of a sister.”

The sirens came closer and closer, and London turned and fled toward them. Her arms and legs pumped, fear propelling her to speed. She spotted the first car and kept sprinting. Royce hurled curses from behind, getting closer but not near enough to grab her.

The cop car skidded to a halt, almost hitting her. She jumped out of the way, sprawling forward as her ankle rolled. She fell face-forward and Royce was on her, punching her head, raining blows on her jaw, her shoulders.

Terror left her lightheaded, the repeated punches causing starbursts behind her eyes. Then, without warning, the attack stopped, the blows ceased. Her head rang. A coppery taste filled her mouth.

“English, are you okay?” Gerard was there, his breathing harsh as he lifted her to her feet.

“Gerard.” She lifted a heavy hand, fingers probing the gash on his head.

“I’m fine, or I will be. We’re talking about you.”

“Move away from her,” a harsh voice ordered.

She turned too fast and wavered on her feet, suddenly dizzy. “Gerard is my boyfriend. He has done nothing wrong. Royce attacked him too. He hit Gerard over the head.”

Another cop approached from a second car, this one older, his bearing indicating more experience. “Hands where I can see them.”

The real estate agent returned, worry written over his face. “Is the house interior damaged? I’m responsible. The owner wants it sold, and I promised to do that.”

“Sir,” the policeman said in a terse voice. “Please stand back. One of the other officers will speak to you in a moment. I’ll get an officer to call the Wanaka Medical Center. Get someone to treat your injuries.”

“I want to go home,” London said.

“You’re bleeding,” the cop retorted.

“She attacked me,” Royce hollered.

“No, I—”

The policeman halted London’s denial. “Once we get you both checked out, we’ll take your statements at the police station.”

Half an hour later, with their wounds treated and photographed for evidence, the policeman questioned them individually.

London told the policeman about Jenny’s murder, that Royce beat and raped her all those years ago and married her sister. The change of will and the zombie run. She told him how the Middlemarch cops had arrested Henry, about the notes she’d received and finally, the events of today. She made a mental note to contact the real estate agent about retrieving her phone.

“Royce admitted to murdering Jenny,” she told the policeman. “He told me he did it. He did it because he wanted Jenny’s money. He’s been following me, waiting for an opportunity to kill me too.”

“He told you that?” The policeman sounded doubtful.

“Rumor is he has debts and needs Jenny’s money to pay them off. You could contact my sister’s solicitor for confirmation.” She resettled on the uncomfortable wooden chair in the interview room. Why did these rooms have to be so uninspiring? She felt as if she were drowning in beige. “Will he be charged with my sister’s murder?”

“I’m not in charge, but it’s looking that way.”

The policeman asked several more questions, took notes and got London to sign her statement.

Then, she waited in another room. At least this one had several posters on the wall. Gerard joined her ten minutes later, and they waited some more. It was three hours later when a policeman joined them.

“You can leave now,” he said.

London jumped to her feet. “What about Royce?”

“He has been arrested for the murder of Jenny Weaver and on one account of assault with further charges pending.”

“Gerard.” London clutched his arm.

“Come on, English. Let’s go home.”

They walked from the police station. London suppressed her urge to skip and cheer, relief that the police had captured and charged Jenny’s murderer a weight off her shoulders. “I can’t believe it’s over, that they’ve arrested Royce for Jenny’s murder. What will happen to Henry?”

“I think he’ll turn himself in and get his name cleared. We’ll talk to Saber and the Feline council and ask how they want to handle the situation.”

“You might even be able to file an official complaint regarding the local cops because they didn’t have any evidence against Henry and refused to listen to anything I told them. Are you okay to drive?”

Gerard slipped his hand around her waist and guided her to the car. “My head is hard, and the wound has almost knitted together. How do you feel?”

“Relieved. The doctor said I’d have a few aches and pains tomorrow, but I’m so pleased this is over, and soon, I can hold Jenny’s funeral. I want to move on and get back to normal.”

“We’ll do that, English. I’m looking forward to normal.”

“Me too.” The words were emphatic.

“I’m looking forward to the future too. You’ll stay in Middlemarch with me, won’t you?”

She smiled at him, caught the faint anxious lines on his brow. “I’m staying.”

“With me?”

“Yes, if you want me.”

“I want you,” he said. “We will get married at the beach on a tropical island.”

“It’s manners to ask a woman to marry you first.”

“I will,” he said. “I want to surprise you. Give our lives a chance to revert to normal.” He opened the car door for her, waited until she climbed inside and leaned over to kiss her cheek. He pulled back and shut the door before rounding the SUV and climbing into the driver’s seat. “Will that work for you?”

“Yes,” London said. “Sounds perfect.”

Chapter Fourteen

One week later

Life in Middlemarch felt right. London glanced around the faces of people who had become friends. Yesterday, they’d supported her at Jenny’s funeral and now they were celebrating the official opening of Isabella’s Martial Arts and Self-Defense School.

This country town had become home. Her gaze slid to Gerard, who was standing with Henry and Leo Mitchell. Henry had been pardoned by the Middlemarch police and local gossip said PC Hannah had received an official censure from the cops in charge of the Southern region. Rumors flew from person to person regarding a possible replacement. No one knew if the gossip held truth.

Gerard sensed her scrutiny and his slow, charming grin did things to her insides. Happiness turned her gaze misty. She loved him. It was that simple.

She wove through the crowds of excited children and gossiping locals, both shifter and human, to reach his side.

“What?” he asked.

“I love you. Will you marry me?”

Gerard let out a whoop. He seized her and dragged her closer, his lips claiming hers. He kissed her until hunger and passion consumed her. She was vaguely aware of cheers and applause, and when Gerard relaxed his hold, she pulled back to find them the center of attention.

“Yes,” Gerard whispered in her ear. “I love you too, English.”

She reached for his hand and squeezed it while desire and love filled her, body and soul. “Gerard and I are getting married.”

The crowd applauded and cheered anew.

“When? Where?” Agnes Paisley asked in her querulous voice. For once, a smile softened her stern face.

Gerard had told her more of the Feline council and how they ran the community. She knew Agnes was a council member.

“We’re getting married in Fiji,” Gerard said.

There were groans and protests.

“But we will have a celebratory party here once we get home,” Gerard said.

“You should get married here,” Isabella said, appearing in front of them.

“No,” Gerard said. “We have decided on a beach wedding.”

Isabella turned to Leo. “We’re going to Fiji. Can you arrange time off work?”

London exchanged a laughing look with Gerard, a slight nod. “All right. You and Leo and Henry—if he wants—can come to our wedding.”

“I hate flying,” Leo grumbled.

“We’ll drug you,” Isabella said. “Just imagine. We’ll get to have a holiday in the warm. Warm weather and bikinis.”

Leo sighed. “I’ll take the drugs, sweetheart. You’re right.”

“We’re going home,” Gerard said. “To celebrate.”

Isabella opened her mouth and closed it. She nodded. “Thanks for coming to my opening and helping me with the self-defense demo.”

“You’re welcome,” London said.

“We’ll let you know dates,” Gerard said, “but it will be soon.”

London nodded. They might have had a quick courtship, but she was sure in her mind about her future. “Let’s go home.”

A short drive later, they walked into Henry and Gerard’s house. Geoffrey barked at them, then placed his head on his paws to wait for Henry’s arrival.

Gerard took her hand and led her to their bedroom. “I love you, London.” He walked to the wardrobe and pulled something from a pocket in his leather jacket. He turned around to face her. “I bought this for you last week when Henry and I had to go to Dunedin.” He opened the small box to reveal an emerald-and-diamond engagement ring. His smile was wide and bright as he lifted the ring from its protective box and reached for her hand. Joy blazed on his face, in his eyes, dug into his cheeks to produce cute dimples. “I wanted to make everything official.”

“Yes,” she whispered, her throat tight with emotion.

“I love you, London Allbright. Knowing you return my love makes me the happiest shifter alive.” He pushed the ring onto her finger, and they both grinned.

“We should celebrate in the feline way too,” London said. “I love you, Gerard. In the past I would’ve worried I didn’t know you. Not now. I’ve never felt so confident of a decision.”

“Come here,” he whispered, his tone gritty with the same emotion that tightened her throat.

She went willingly, let him peel off her clothes and press her onto the mattress. He released her to strip off his clothes then returned with a grin. Their arms wrapped around each other, and they kissed, celebrating their love. His breath caressed her face, his fingers relearned her body. Soon that wasn’t enough. She parted her thighs, her hips canting upward in invitation. She was wet for him, craving his possession. Gerard notched his cock to her entrance, and they both groaned as he entered her. His hands skimmed with purpose, with skill, teasing and pushing her higher.

Their kisses moved from sweet and slow to demanding and passionate, each sweep of his tongue pushing the pulse at her throat to beat a rapid tattoo. Her breaths came in gasps, passion rising between them until she drowned in the desire.

Her pussy clenched around his cock as he licked her mating site. His tongue laved to and fro, then just as she flew in climax, Gerard sank his teeth deep. She groaned, pain and pleasure warring, the twists of sensation almost too much for her to handle.

Long seconds later, Gerard lifted his head and licked the wound. Each delicate lap of his tongue had heat blossoming, renewed pleasure writhing over her nerve endings.

She kissed Gerard’s neck, instinct guiding her to his marking site. Although he’d told her he didn’t need a bite, that they’d still be mates, she wanted to mark him in passion. Instinct drove her, and she bit Gerard, glorying in his dark groan, the shudder that went through his big body. On tasting blood, she lifted her head.
Eew. She hadn’t meant to draw blood.
She tried to lift her head.

“Lick it clean,” Gerard ordered, and she obeyed.

The coppery taste wasn’t so bad.

He trembled and his hips stilled, leaving him embedded inside her. She felt the contractions of his shaft as he came, and was glad she’d visited Gavin, the feline doctor, for a birth control shot. Sex was better without a condom.

He cupped the back of her head with his hand and lifted it to kiss her. She felt the passion in him, the love in each of his caresses. His kiss inflamed, it consumed as he plundered her mouth.