of secrecy.
Not only did he have to hunt the rogue who threatened it,
but now he had to protect his people from a human female who’d seen too much.
Chapter Three
Tamar closed the front door behind Detectives Scott and
Roland with a weary sigh. True to their word, they’d called on her a couple of
hours after she’d been released from the hospital. She’d recounted her
statement of the attack the previous evening, prudently omitting the part about
her and Resa’s assailant shifting to a horrifying monster. Even jacked up on pain
killers last night, she’d noticed their disbelief. She’d been granted a pass
because of her ordeal but damn, if Tamar had been the cop listening to an
accounting of a vicious eagle-horse beast, she’d have outfitted the person for
a new white jacket and the eighth floor of Grace Crossings Memorial would have
had a new resident…after administering a test for hallucinogens. Maybe she’d
cracked her head on the sidewalk before the attack…
Another reason why she hadn’t mentioned the troubling
sensation of being followed these past weeks. She could imagine how that
conversation would have gone.
Ms. Ridgeway, did you see anybody?
No, sir. I just had this feeling.
Has anything happened to make you believe you were being
followed?
Um, no. Like I said, I just had this feeling.
Well, Ms. Ridgeway, maybe it was the Easter Bunny as well
as that half-eagle, half-horse monster you told us about. Get a bag of fairy
dust and you’ll be okay.
Tamar snorted. In the hospital when they’d asked her about
anyone who would want to hurt her, she hadn’t confessed to her suspicions
regarding being watched or how the identity of the maybe-stalker could be Kyle.
Her wariness sounded a bit outlandish without proof. As for the other reason
she remained silent… If Tamar named Kyle as the person who might possibly be
following her, then she’d have to admit why . She’d harbored her shameful
and embarrassing secret of abuse for years and she wasn’t about to reveal it.
Especially since she doubted the attack had anything to do with her ex.
Rubbing a hand across her forehead, she headed back into the
living room and eased onto the couch, afraid to make any sudden movements.
Gingerly, she touched the wound at the back of her head. The doctor had assured
her that though she had suffered a concussion, her skull was intact and in a
few days she would be fine, even free of headaches. In other words, the claim
her mother had thrown at Tamar since childhood was true—she had a hard-ass
head.
Melancholy swooped in like a scavenger just waiting for the
opportunity to feast on the carrion of her self-pity. God, what she wouldn’t
give to have her mother here with her. Ever since her father had abandoned them
when Tamar was a toddler, it had been her and Jessie Ridgeway. Then her mother
had died from a fast and aggressive bout of pneumonia. Within a week, Tamar had
been alone and scared at twenty years old. At twenty-four she’d been
vulnerable, easy pickins for Kyle.
She closed her eyes and in cautious increments hoisted her
feet to the couch cushions and reclined against the soft pile of pillows
propped behind her. Okay, so this spell of depression could—for the most
part—be attributed to the drugs. They lowered the solid walls of optimistic
determination she’d erected out of necessity through the years. But damn it,
she’d just witnessed her friend get torn to pieces by a monster she’d probably
fabricated from too many viewings of Harry Potter . She had been attacked
and suffered a hard knock on the head.
If anyone deserved to indulge in an interlude of
why-the-fuck-does-Fate-hate-me, it was her.
With a sigh she drifted on a nice, hazy medicinal wave and
wondered if she would dream of Nicolai as she’d done in the hospital. The
vision had seemed so real. She snuggled deeper into the soft cushions and let
the dark undertow of sleep seduce her…
He’d seemed so real.
When she opened
Not only did he have to hunt the rogue who threatened it,
but now he had to protect his people from a human female who’d seen too much.
Chapter Three
Tamar closed the front door behind Detectives Scott and
Roland with a weary sigh. True to their word, they’d called on her a couple of
hours after she’d been released from the hospital. She’d recounted her
statement of the attack the previous evening, prudently omitting the part about
her and Resa’s assailant shifting to a horrifying monster. Even jacked up on pain
killers last night, she’d noticed their disbelief. She’d been granted a pass
because of her ordeal but damn, if Tamar had been the cop listening to an
accounting of a vicious eagle-horse beast, she’d have outfitted the person for
a new white jacket and the eighth floor of Grace Crossings Memorial would have
had a new resident…after administering a test for hallucinogens. Maybe she’d
cracked her head on the sidewalk before the attack…
Another reason why she hadn’t mentioned the troubling
sensation of being followed these past weeks. She could imagine how that
conversation would have gone.
Ms. Ridgeway, did you see anybody?
No, sir. I just had this feeling.
Has anything happened to make you believe you were being
followed?
Um, no. Like I said, I just had this feeling.
Well, Ms. Ridgeway, maybe it was the Easter Bunny as well
as that half-eagle, half-horse monster you told us about. Get a bag of fairy
dust and you’ll be okay.
Tamar snorted. In the hospital when they’d asked her about
anyone who would want to hurt her, she hadn’t confessed to her suspicions
regarding being watched or how the identity of the maybe-stalker could be Kyle.
Her wariness sounded a bit outlandish without proof. As for the other reason
she remained silent… If Tamar named Kyle as the person who might possibly be
following her, then she’d have to admit why . She’d harbored her shameful
and embarrassing secret of abuse for years and she wasn’t about to reveal it.
Especially since she doubted the attack had anything to do with her ex.
Rubbing a hand across her forehead, she headed back into the
living room and eased onto the couch, afraid to make any sudden movements.
Gingerly, she touched the wound at the back of her head. The doctor had assured
her that though she had suffered a concussion, her skull was intact and in a
few days she would be fine, even free of headaches. In other words, the claim
her mother had thrown at Tamar since childhood was true—she had a hard-ass
head.
Melancholy swooped in like a scavenger just waiting for the
opportunity to feast on the carrion of her self-pity. God, what she wouldn’t
give to have her mother here with her. Ever since her father had abandoned them
when Tamar was a toddler, it had been her and Jessie Ridgeway. Then her mother
had died from a fast and aggressive bout of pneumonia. Within a week, Tamar had
been alone and scared at twenty years old. At twenty-four she’d been
vulnerable, easy pickins for Kyle.
She closed her eyes and in cautious increments hoisted her
feet to the couch cushions and reclined against the soft pile of pillows
propped behind her. Okay, so this spell of depression could—for the most
part—be attributed to the drugs. They lowered the solid walls of optimistic
determination she’d erected out of necessity through the years. But damn it,
she’d just witnessed her friend get torn to pieces by a monster she’d probably
fabricated from too many viewings of Harry Potter . She had been attacked
and suffered a hard knock on the head.
If anyone deserved to indulge in an interlude of
why-the-fuck-does-Fate-hate-me, it was her.
With a sigh she drifted on a nice, hazy medicinal wave and
wondered if she would dream of Nicolai as she’d done in the hospital. The
vision had seemed so real. She snuggled deeper into the soft cushions and let
the dark undertow of sleep seduce her…
He’d seemed so real.
When she opened
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