Gift wrapped protector, p.3
Gift Wrapped Protector, page 3
“I am not a guy, I am Medjed, mighty warrior of Osiris, half-God, Demon soldier—”
“And that all sounds great. But I have to say no. Uhhh—It’s not you, it’s me!” Caro called out.
She felt behind her for the opening to the stairwell, hoping like fuck he was still too weak to chase her.
“I will turn your former lovers to dust, my princess. You will be rewarded for setting me free. You will enjoy being my bride, my fair-skinned dove.”
“No, but thank you. Um, I have to go.”
“I will build my strength, and I will come for you, fear not,” he growled.
“Oh, shit,” Carolina squeaked, and reached the stairs.
She turned around and ran without looking back.
Once outside, she sucked in a breath and hauled ass across the lot. Carolina Moore was a lot of things, but she never thought of herself as a coward.
Seriously though, what else could she do? A Demon with a massive dick said he wanted her as his bride. Running seemed pretty fucking logical.
She’d never believed in the myths she so loved to study. Maybe she was crazy? Only time would tell.
Carolina hardly paid attention to the beautiful Egyptian skied or the spicy scented air as she ran into the hotel and headed straight to her room. Forget mailing her work. She would pay extra to bring it on board.
How long would it take an Ancient Demon to get his strength back, anyway? She had no idea. All Caro knew was she needed to get the fuck out of Egypt—but not before making one last call.
“Jennifer? This is Carolina. I need your help!”
Chapter Three
Arthur Wessex, former four-star general of the United States Army, and adoptive father of four Wyvern Shifters, frowned as he looked at his watch. The boys were late, and he had things to discuss.
“Hello, General Wessex.” Jennifer Dylluan, his trusted friend, and the boys’ handler, smiled gently as she entered the room.
Her hair was in a professional bun, glasses perched on the end of her nose, and her slate grey suit hugged her curves. She was a pretty woman. Downplay it as she might try, it was still obvious to anyone with eyes.
“Ms. Dylluan,” he returned and nodded once.
"You know, I insist you call me Jennifer,” she replied, her grin widening.
“Well, then, Jennifer, shall we?”
He was a man of few words, for he always believed actions spoke loudest of all. He held out Jennifer’s chair and sat down at the long table in the formal dining room.
A military man seldom made the kind of money Arthur Wessex had in the bank, but he had his late wife to thank for that. Money did not matter, he’d found out once the diagnosis had been made.
You really can’t take it with you, he mused with a snort of self-derision.
He was not ready to leave yet. Though he missed his wife, his sons were still finding their feet, er, wings. He had to stay strong as long as he could.
“Where are the guys?” Jennifer asked.
“They will be here,” he said. “But I am glad we will have the chance to talk first. You’re a Shifter Jennifer, you know the drill.”
“Is there something specific you wish to discuss, Arthur?” she asked with that quietly authoritative air that was so like her.
No wonder his youngest could not help but admire the woman. Though God knew, Conny had some growing up to do if he wanted to impress her. But back to the task at hand.
“As their Wyverns continue to grow in strength and dominance, my boys show signs of restlessness. I believe they need to find their mates, Jennifer. I won’t be here forever, and they will need a source of love, support, and a reason for staying the course.”
“I see,” she said, and he noted the small change in her posture with some interest.
“They are anxious, Jennifer. Finding mates will give them better control of their powers and their beasts.”
“That has been theorized,” she agreed.
“Hmph,” he grunted. “I know your kind are secretive, but I raised them, Jennifer. I have none of the prejudices that other humans in the know have against Shifters.”
“I know,” she replied, and smiled sadly. “I just wonder if it is as dire as you seem to think?”
“Did you know Jasper’s fire can be channeled into a single, slender beam stronger than any laser the government has produced, and with more accuracy than any sharpshooter I have ever heard of?” he began, expecting her argument, and having prepared for it.
“Did you know Heliodore can channel frost, as well as fire, freezing his enemies with a mere snort? Larimar has communicated with wild animals, and maybe even the dead—and I have seen Zircon call lightning to his aid. I tell you these four are more powerful than I’d ever hoped they would be when I worked for the DPCA.”
“Yes. Little is known about Wyverns as a species; and before we found their eggs, they were thought extinct, General,” Jennifer replied. “But they are working for the right people. I have no fears they will go rogue—”
“No, no, they are loyal, I would never question that. As a general, it would be enough, but as their father, well, I want them to be happy too.”
She smiled at him then. A real, genuine smile stretching her lips from ear to ear. He knew he would have to tell her then. A truth he’d wanted to avoid, but he knew he could not any longer.
“I want you to promise me something,” he began.
“If I can,” she returned.
“Promise me you will give up this foolish idea of retirement. My boys will need you, Jennifer. You are the only one they relate to,” he said and took her hand.
“General? You are scaring me,” she said.
“I’m sorry, dear. I hate to burden you, but you see, I am dying.” After a moment, he continued, “I suppose I should be the one who’s afraid.”
Arthur stopped speaking as his four sons entered the room, making enough noise so they could not have heard his private conversation with Jennifer. His heart constricted with pride, swelled with love, and ached with sorrow as he looked at each of them.
They had given him so much, had made him a father, and his beloved wife a mother, when science and nature could not. Sadness enveloped him, but he pushed it away, the soldier in him unwilling to give in to anguish.
“Dad?” Jasper asked, head cocked to the side.
It had been days since they’d all been together and, seeing as how they had just returned from a workout, their senses would be particularly acute. He inhaled, stricken eyes flashing to Arthur’s.
“No,” he said, shaking his head.
“Please, boys, sit,” he ordered his sons, taking a moment to look at the four powerful and handsome males.
They were older than they looked, but so young in terms of their kind. Supernaturals could live several lifetimes for any normal. The General had worked with enough paranormals to never underestimate their age, strength, speed, or intelligence.
“The best way to give bad news is a lot like ripping off a band aid. You have to do it quickly,” he told them. “Well, here it goes. Boys, I’ve been diagnosed with cancer. It’s terminal and inoperable. I have a little time left—”
“No!”
“There must be something we can do!” Zircon interrupted, but one look quieted his youngest.
He’d raised the four brothers as his own sons from the time they were hatchlings at almost fifty years ago now. He had no regrets about that. His darling Anne could not bear their children, and she’d welcomed the four rambunctious Shifters into their house with open arms. She passed away almost ten years ago now, and it had been very hard on all of them.
“Listen to me because I know you all know I am neither careless, nor do I appreciate having to repeat myself.”
All four of his sons nodded, and each squirmed a little in his own seat. It amused Arthur to still have that effect on them, but he showed no sign of that emotion when he continued.
“I have been seen by the best doctors. I have anywhere from six weeks to six months left. Maybe more, maybe less,” he repeated his diagnosis, noting the pain and confusion in their eyes with an echoing sadness in his heart.
“Now, I expect you to listen, to learn, and to give Ms. Dylluan your complete attention while I submit to the meddlesome care of my doctors. She will stay on as your handler even after I am gone,” he announced, meeting her eyes where she stared back at him, her silent agreement shining in them.
The Owl Shifter was the consummate professional. He knew he could count on her. He also knew that he could always depend on his boys. They were good boys at heart, even if a little wild.
“I know you’ve expressed interest in exploring other avenues of interest, and I applaud your aptitude, but the world still needs you. Please do not give Ms. Dylluan a difficult time. Now, I have contacted my lawyers, and have handed over the estate to each of you now in equal shares before my death. That way, there will be no period of probate or waiting. After we eat, we will sign the papers,” he stated.
“Dad, I don’t care about the money—” Heliodore interrupted, but the General raised his hand to silence him.
“Money is not important until you need it. You are my sons, what is mine is yours. Now, let’s eat lunch.”
Arthur Wessex pressed the button on the intercom and called for their lunch to be brought in. His wife’s family’s mansion was old and large, nestled in the woods in northern New Jersey, on the edge of Morris County.
He had always loved the old place and the grounds, especially. The large, untouched woods were part of the deed he would gift to his sons, making himself happy because he knew they would take care of the land.
He’d been blessed with this wonderful place to raise his boys, and he did not regret a moment of it. No, he supposed lunch would not be a happy affair today, but they would behave with decorum and respect. They would use the manners he and his late wife had taught them from birth.
He hated leaving. Arthur would worry about each of them—he supposed that would never stop—and he would miss them. But the General would not dwell on that.
Not today.
After they’d eaten, Jasper excused himself and went outside to the gardens. Arthur recognized the expression on his eldest’s face. The boy, no, the man was angry with him.
He followed him outside, lighting an old Cuban that he’d been given as a gift back when he’d retired his position with the army.
“You waited a long time to smoke that,” Jasper remarked. He’d always been thoughtful and deceptively attentive.
“Yes. Seems fitting somehow, doesn’t it?”
“So, you won’t get actual treatment. Just care from the doctors.” It was a statement, not a question, and pride filled Arthur as he looked at his handsome son.
“No, I won’t get treatment. I am dying, Jasper, and I would like to do it with dignity. Hell, I should’ve died ten times alone on the battlefield.”
“I’ve heard the stories, father, but this time it’s real, isn’t it?”
Arthur saw the pain in Jasper’s golden eyes, and he wondered, as he’d done a thousand times before, at the inherent magic inside of him, inside of all four of his sons.
Would they ever learn their truths?
Arthur sure hoped so. He hoped with everything inside of him, they would find whatever it was they needed to live their lives, and that they would be happy.
“It has been my honor and my privilege to be your father, Jasper. You and your brothers are the light of my lives. I could not possibly love you any more than I do, but I am worried about you all, my son.”
Arthur puffed out a cloud of smoke and watched it rise into the cold wintry night. Snow dotted the landscape, blanketing parts of it in virgin white. The pines stood tall and proud, wearing their coats year round, while their deciduous kin appeared dead, all naked and bare. They would bloom again. They’d have their time.
Everything did.
“Worried about us, Dad? I’m worried about you. Look, we will take time off, and we will take care of you—”
“No. I won’t hear of it. Besides, you have an assignment. Ms. Dylluan has a file for you. You need to leave tonight,” Arthur said, checking his watch. “You need to leave now, in fact.”
“No, I won’t go. I want to stay with you—”
“Do not dishonor yourself, or me, Jasper. After everything I’ve taught you, you must do your duty,” Arthur whispered, knowing full well Jasper heard him.
He knew his son would not disobey. He was a good boy. They all were. With brave hearts and bright minds. Intelligent, witty, courageous, noble, and handsome as sin.
His sons were Wyverns, the only four of their kind, and if the rumors about Shifters and fated mates were true, they would be even more powerful when they found theirs. Arthur only mourned not being around to see them once they found them.
“I want you to promise me you will do the right thing,” Arthur said, and waited for his son’s response.
“Yes, father,” Jasper replied, though the anger coming off him was tangible.
“I’ll see you when you get back, son.”
Arthur prayed silently that he would.
If you are listening, God, watch over my boys.
Chapter Four
Jasper growled deep in his chest as he packed his bag and loaded it into his SUV. He couldn’t fucking believe this. It was Christmas. His father was dying. But could he stay home and celebrate with the old codger?
Grrr.
No, of course fucking not. Jasper had an assignment. He was being sent to act as a bodyguard for some stupid socialite, or celebrity, or whatever the fuck this client was.
Artist, his brain supplied the word Jennifer had told him during their very brief briefing.
Whatever.
Probably some ex-housewife who got TikTok famous for making picture frames or lawn statues out of recycled grocery bags or some shit like that. The things that passed for art these days were a fucking mystery to a guy like him.
Besides, who went to Egypt on a whim after getting divorced? Someone with too much money and time on their hands. Just the kind of person who would get into trouble and ruin other people’s plans without giving two shits.
Fuck. That wasn’t fair of him. He hadn’t even bothered looking at all the details. He sure as shit did not listen when Jennifer tried giving him the details. His handler had given up trying to get him to stand still and slapped him on the head with the dossier. She instructed him to read it, and warned him with that crisp, curt tone of hers that this one mattered.
“This is a friend of mine, Jasper. Don’t fuck up.”
The folder sat on the passenger seat beside him, Jasper had only skimmed over the first page. And quickly at that.
He just could not think straight. Obligation and duty warred within him, and a profound sense of impending doom. He slapped his hands on the steering wheel, glad it was reinforced titanium, but wincing when even that seemed to bend under his grip.
Shit shit shit.
Jasper knew better than to behave this way. He had been taught the importance of duty, honor, and obligation. The desire to shirk his responsibilities had always been his toughest battle.
A fun-loving guy by nature, he wished he could go back to the time before their luncheon. When he thought the only thing pressing on his calendar was to meet up with a hot little bartender and celebrate the season.
This was not how he expected this Christmas to go. Losing Mom had been hard as fuck on him and his brothers, but losing the General might just break them.
Focus on the job. Deal with the rest later, a familiar voice whispered inside his head. His father’s words came back to him, and Jasper exhaled harshly.
Double fuck.
He growled again, the rumbling sound starting deep in his chest before reaching his throat. He thought about his parting words to his brothers before he’d left.
The sounds of his brothers’ footsteps grew louder as they neared his room. The mansion’s marble floors were definitely good for announcing unwanted visitors, though he’d always hated the cold stone on his feet in winter.
He snorted at the memory of the time he’d tried to heat them with his fire when he was just a lad. His poor mother! The shenanigans he and his brothers had gotten into were enough to drive anyone nuts, but not her. Anne Wessex was one in a million.
She’d simply laughed at the scorched marble and dried his worried tears. Then she’d instructed him to wear socks the next time his feet felt chilled. Father had not been impressed with his attempt at warming the marble. In fact, that little catastrophe earned him dish duty for a month.
“You know, you don’t have to be such a dick about it,” Conny said as he leaned against the doorjamb.
“Seriously though,” Dor added. “What are we gonna do, bro?”
“Look, Jennifer has given us all assignments, and you know our father,” Larimar growled, and flung his cell phone down on the bed.
“Duty first,” Dor said automatically, and the others echoed the sentiment.
“Yes.” Jasper met the glowing stare of each of his brothers. “We are going to do our duty as our father expects us to, then we will come back and get him to seek treatment.”
Heliodore growled. His brother’s Wyvern had glittery yellow eyes as he pushed against his skin, making his upset known. Jasper’s gaze found his, and he revealed a little of his own beast, causing Dor to avert his stare and end his growl.
It wasn’t personal. Jasper knew this. Growling and posturing were just part and parcel of being a Shifter. As the oldest, largest, and strongest, he was the unofficial Alpha of their small band of brothers. Unofficial in the sense that he’d never been keen on enforcing it.
Little was known about his kind. The Wessex Wyverns were recognized throughout the paranormal world, especially among those in the Department of Paranormal Creatures and Activity, as a force to be reckoned with, but that was pretty much it. Each with their own unique talents, the brothers spent a lot of time training to be the best they could be. It was part of who they were.
