Chapter 4

Adrian's POV

The moment I walked into that church, I knew I was fucked five ways from Sunday. My mate was here. After all these years, the fates finally found me another mate and sent her my way. I knew it would happen one day, that they’d send another, but I had some hope that it wouldn’t be this soon.

I followed her delicious scent to the sacristy and stood in awe of her. How beautifully made, how perfect. Her long raven hair tumbled in wet curls down her back, and the soaked clothes clung to her skin accentuating her soft, womanly curves, but it was her aura that really attracted my attention. She radiated magnificence.

“Father Abraham,” I snap when the old priest doesn’t answer me right away. “What can I do to help?”

It’s sheer torture to just stand here and pretend that I barely know Pippa. It’s agony to ask the old priest for permission to help my own mate, but I can’t give myself away. It would be a disaster for both of us.

What I really want to do is wrap my mate in my arms and carry her away. I want to kiss her injured back, and I want to kill the fucker who dared to lay his hands on her.

Pippa looks up at me, her hazel eyes swimming in tears. She’s so afraid, and so terribly confused

Oh, my heart.

Leave! I scream inside my head. Leave so I can take care of my mate.

Screw it. I’m not waiting for Abraham to give me instructions. While he’s trying to explain to the police what has happened, I crouch in front of Pippa, balling my fists on my thighs so I’m not tempted to touch her. “What do you need?” I ask as softly as I can.

“I don’t know,” she answers. “I don’t even know why they came after me. What did I do?”

“Nothing,” I say. “There are…bad men in the world who wants nothing more than to hurt pretty young girls like you.”

“That’s right,” Owen says. “You listen to Father Adrian now, missy, you need to be careful.”

“I am always careful,” Pippa says in a small voice. She sounds like a scolded child, and I want to slap Owen so hard that his head spins around like a possessed doll simply for making her feel that way. “I am at church. Why would people like that come to a church?”

“Easy pickings,” Owen answers as if he knows something about it. “You never think someone will come to a church to hurt a girl.”

“Stop it you old fool,” Sister June says and swats Owen upside the head. “Can’t you see she’s upset? Come now, dearie,” the nun says in a much softer voice and puts a motherly arm around Pippa’s shoulder. “Let’s see to your back.”

I purposefully look at her when they leave. The scratches on her back are too deep and thick to be made by human hands. Definitely caused by wolf claws.

Damn it all to hell and back. For thirteen years, I had managed to stay out of their way. They always knew where I was, but they never came after me while I was in the church. For some reason, the werewolves fear human churches, and they think I have some kind of magical protection because I’m a Lycan. I don’t, but I’ve successfully used their silly superstition to my advantage.

Until now.

Why in the hell would the fates send me another mate? It makes me vulnerable, but what’s infinitely worse is that she’s in danger now. Because of me, because of what I am.

I feel my heart walk away with Pippa, but I have a bigger, more immediate problem that I need to deal with. The police are on their way, and how are we going to explain those injuries on her back to them? “Did you see if one of them had a weapon?” I ask Owen oh, so innocently.

“A weapon, Father?”

“Yes…the scratches on her back are so deep and wide…I don’t think they did it with their bare hands. Do you?”

“You know, now that you mention it, I think I did see one of them fellas carrying something like a small garden fork or the like.”

Smiling inwardly, I nod. “Be sure to tell the police.”

I won’t leave, not while Pippa is here and in danger, but I go into the chapel and pretend to pray. I have an answer ready for the others should I need one.

I stand on my knees in front of the cross, running the rosary through my fingers, but I’m listening intently to what’s going on in the church. I can’t make out the conversation, but I’m tuned into the sound of Pippa's voice. As long as I can hear her, I know she's okay.

An hour or so later, Father Abraham enters the chapel, but he doesn’t say anything. He waits patiently while I finish saying my pretend prayers. Over the years, I’ve learned how to fake it very well, and I don’t rush. I give it a few minutes before I stand up and turn to Abraham. “I apologise for interrupting your prayers,” he says.

“It’s fine,” I say and hang the rosary around my neck. “I was nearly done.”

“Would you mind terribly walking Pippa home? I would do it, but I don’t think I’d be much use in a fight.”

“I thought she’s hurt. Can she walk home? I can fetch my car.”

“There’s no need. The injuries aren’t that severe.”

I nod. “In that case, we can leave as soon as she’s ready.”

“Adrian,” the elderly priest says. “You have to be careful with her, you understand? She’s a little more…fragile than most girls her age.”

Fragile. Pippa? I doubt it. “In what way?” I ask nonetheless.

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you. It’s possible she may have a…little crush on you.”

That’s an understatement if I ever heard one, but I say nothing. Outwardly, I’m a blank sheet of paper.

“These things happen, of course,” he goes on, “but she has no defences. She doesn’t know how to…protect her heart. She has no experience yet.” It’s clear Father Abraham is very fond of Pippa, and that he doesn’t like to think of her as a normal girl with normal emotions and hormones.

I am fuming at the priest. Who does he think he is? What gives him the right to tell me how I should or should not treat my mate?

“I’ll be careful, don’t worry Father. This has happened to me before.”

Abraham smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I am sure it has.”

“I’ve never acted on any of it. I take my vows seriously.” It’s almost true. I’ve never slept with any of my parishioners. I’ve been very careful with where I sowed my proverbial wild oats. “If you’ll excuse me…I’ll see if Pippa is ready to go home.”

Still angry with him, I push past him and leave the chapel.

Intellectually, I know that Abraham doesn’t deserve my anger, he doesn’t know what’s going on, but all rationale goes flying out the window when it comes to our mates.

Pippa is white as a sheet and wearing the ugliest orange shirt I’ve ever seen. “What are you wearing?” I ask.

“It’s from the donation bin,” she answers, her tone of voice is alarmingly lacklustre. “Sister June thinks it’s clean.” She squirms a little. “I don’t. I want to go home and take a shower, but Father Abraham says I need to wait.”

I nod. “Yeah. He asked me to walk you home.”

“You don’t have to.”

Yes, I do. I wasn’t outside to protect her. This should never have happened, wouldn’t have happened, if I were with her like I was supposed to be. I don’t say any of this to her – I’ll tell her what I am and what she is to me, and I’ll tell her soon, but not today. “It’s okay,” I say at last. “Remember what I told you earlier?”

I wait for her to repeat the words back to me, but all she does is nods.

I went into the storage room with every intention to reject her, but that’s not what I did. No, I just had to go and make promises to her. Promises I’m not sure I can keep. “Do you believe that I’ll do it?” I ask when she doesn’t answer me. “Do you believe that I’ll protect you?”

“Yes,” she answers softly.

My heart aches and my body screams out to hold her. “Are you in pain? Do you want to see a doctor?”

“I’m fine,” she answers. “Sister June says it’s not that deep. Can we go?”

“Yes.”

Pippa is quiet on the walk home. She has reverted to some kind of old defence mechanism of, ‘bury it and forget it,’ and she’s working very hard on the burying part. I don’t mind her silence, it gives me time to think about what to do next.

I have no idea what to do or where to go. The church offers a little safety, more than we’d have if we go on the run, but sooner or later they’ll catch her alone and take her.

We walk past the rectory where Father Joseph sits on the porch, smoking his stinking pipe. He sees us go past and gives me a questioning look, but all I can do is shrug in return. I’ve known the man for fourteen years, he’s the one who smuggled me out of my own home all those years ago, and he’s the only person in this world that I trust.

Pippa gasps and freezes. I look up just in time to see a massive, black wolf slink away from her apartment.

Fucking Caspian. What is he doing here, so far away from his kingdom? He doesn’t usually bother to come after me himself; he always sends one of his lackeys.

“Did you see that?” Pippa asks, her voice trembling a little.

I resist the urge to put my arm around her and hold her close. “The dog? Yes.”

“That wasn’t a dog,” Pippa says.

“Uh, yes it was.”

“What? Are you blind? It was too big to be a dog!”

Oh God, I don’t want to do this to her. I don’t want to lie to her and make her doubt herself. I’ve done it before, and I nearly destroyed the poor girl. “I only caught its tail, so maybe I’m wrong.”

“Yes, maybe,” she says sarcastically.

She’s suddenly all fire. A beautiful blaze that will consume me if I’m not careful. “You should probably go inside,” I say. “Before you bite my head off.”

All that fire leaves her at once. “I’m sorry, Father…it’s just…things have been so weird.”

“When did it start?”

“What?”

“The weirdness.”

“Yesterday.”

“Tell me about it.”

She bites into her lip and looks over her shoulder as if trying to reassure herself that we’re alone. “There were these two men in the cemetery, and…” she goes on to tell me about the twins, the dark-haired man, and the strange howling that sent him running. “Now the attack. Things like that don’t happen to me. Most people aren’t even aware that I exist.”

I just want to hold her. I want to kiss her until her fear goes away. “I’m sorry, Pippa. I know it’s hard.”

“I’m scared,” she admits in a small, vulnerable voice. “Can you…” she nervously tucks hair behind her ears and folds her arms protectively around herself. “Do you mind coming inside with me?”