Twice Shy

reliving the past?

She'd been afraid, but obviously it wasn't a problem. Or had they missed the fact it was her screaming her head off in pleasure anytime either one touched her?

Worse, Jonas couldn't go after her father. Couldn't even entertain the idea. He was the most powerful wizard she knew, maybe in his generation. He wasn't afraid to use black magic, and he loved to make her miserable. And killing Jonas would rip her heart out. She had to stop this madness before it took root. But before she could launch into a lecture, before she could collect her thoughts and give them the yelling she wanted a banging came from downstairs on the front door. It opened with a thud.

Chapter Ten

“Harper!”

Holy shit. Just what she needed. Her overprotective baby brother joining forces with two overprotective mates. Then it occurred to her she was naked. And footsteps pounded up the stairs. She pulled on the first thing she reached—Jonas's shirt—and tossed two pairs of jeans on the bed.

She didn't wait to see if they'd dressed before flinging open the door, hoping to meet Dane out in the hall. No such luck. He stood on the other side of the threshold, fist raised to knock, face a furious red. He reached out and grabbed her in a tight hold.

“Thank gods,” he muttered. “Are you all right?”

“Of course.” She pulled back and scowled up at him. “What happened?” He shook his head, looking over her to take in Mick and Jonas, who both, she noticed when she turned to look, waited in only jeans. She felt power rising, recognized it as her loving brother's, and tapped him on the chest to get his attention. He rubbed the spot, looking down at her with a surprised expression.

Okay, maybe she'd hit him harder than she'd realized, but… She poked him in the chest.

“They are off-limits.”

“You sure, Sis?”

She gave him a tight smile. “Mine.”

She surprised herself with her vehemence. She could get used to this werewolf stuff, where possessiveness wasn't considered a character flaw. Looking over her shoulder, she caught Mick's approving grin. That didn't hurt either. She pushed Dane out of the doorway and toward the steps.

“I thought you were going to dinner.”

“I got distracted.”

It was almost a growl, but the rage in his tone was all real. She led him to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out four beers still on the plastic ring. She shouldn't give her underage baby brother a beer, but she recognized that look in his eyes. She knew he'd had a vision that frightened him, and it still held him in its grip. She shook her head at Jonas's disapproving frown when she handed one to Dane. Hell, at eighteen he was older than most of the thirtysomethings she knew.

She dragged him to a chair.

“Tell me.”

He sat, silent, Adam's apple bobbing while he got himself under control. Then he popped the top on the beer and took a long swallow.

“Dane?”

“He's coming.”

“But you already knew that, right?” she said gently. That was why he'd hung around when it was so dangerous for a wizard to impede on werewolf territory.

His eyes were haunted. “This time he's going to kill you,” he whispered.

She repressed her immediate reaction. She'd worry about terror later.

Grabbing her brother's hand, she focused on his face, focused her power into her voice. Convincing. Certain. “No, he isn't. There is no way Mick and Jonas will let that happen.”

“Harper—”

“No,” she said sharply. “You're good, but you're young. You don't have perfect control. You know that.”

For the gazillionth time in her life she wished this were a gift, a burden she could take from her baby brother.

The table was huge and round, probably capable of seating eight men.

Impressive, considering the size of most of the men in Redhawke. She sat next to Dane, Jonas next to him, and Mick took the chair behind her.

“Tell us about your visions,” Mick said softly, but there was no denying it was an order.

Dane's head jerked up to glare at him. A wizard's natural suspicion at war with his need to recruit whatever help was necessary to protect his sister was easy to read on his face. Harper opened her mouth to intervene, but Mick squeezed her hand and shook his head. This had to come from Dane, and Mick wouldn't allow him to hide behind his sister. That would stunt a boy on the cusp of becoming a man.

“They're flashes of images. Like snapshots.”

“And they aren't always accurate?”

Dane sighed. “No. But I'm more accurate than most. Maybe eighty, eighty-five percent of the time.”

“But you're more likely to be wrong about me,” Harper pointed out.

Dane's nod was reluctant. “Emotion can cloud things.” That had better be true, because no one was going to be permitted to harm Harper ever again. Not even death would take her from them.