Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

WILLOW

W illow walked along the beach, the sand warm beneath her feet, but her mind was far from the tranquility of the ocean waves. Cage walked a step behind her and to the side, his presence a constant reminder of the tension that had been simmering between them for weeks. Since that day on the beach, he had been around but always official, formal, and aloof. It frustrated her no end. The swats he'd given her had been confusing. Instead of anger, they had ignited something within her, something she wasn't entirely comfortable acknowledging—not in real life, anyway.

She should have slapped his face, should have told him off. But instead, her whole erotic system had lit up like the holiday tree in Rockefeller Center. She replayed the scene in her mind over and over, wondering what it meant and why it affected her so much.

Distracted by her thoughts, she stepped on a patch of sand far softer than she had anticipated and started to fall as its stability gave way beneath her feet. Cage's strong arms were there in an instant, catching her and holding her close for far longer than he should have. Their eyes locked, and Willow's heart pounded in her chest. She could feel his breath on her lips, the closeness of his body making hers come alive.

For a moment, she thought he might kiss her. He leaned in, his eyes dark with an emotion she couldn't quite read. But then he straightened, his expression once again becoming a mask of control as he let her go.

"Thank you," she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. She watched him, searching his face for any sign that he felt the same pull she did. But if he did, he gave nothing away.

She couldn't stand it any longer. The man's stoic reserve was driving her insane. She knew she was attracted to him. She wasn't bad looking and would be single after she got divorced or had her marriage annulled or whatever. Her life was in danger, and sex would be a great way to pass the time on this quiet island. Why was he refusing to even notice her that way?

Did the way her body had responded to the abbreviated spanking he'd given her disgust him? She shivered at the memory. Her e-reader was filled with all kinds of novels about alpha males who subdued the women in their lives with dominant sex and spanking. God, she hoped he didn't know that. But those three harsh smacks had kicked her fantasies starring Cage into overdrive.

She stole a glance at him and saw his jaw set in that same impenetrable line. "Cage," she began, her voice uncertain. "Do you...do you ever think about what happened on the beach?"

He turned to look at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What do you mean?"

Her frustration bubbled over. "I mean, do you ever think about me? As more than just someone you have to look after?"

His expression didn't change, but she saw a flicker of something in his eyes. "Willow, my job is to keep you safe. Nothing more."

Her heart sank at his words, but she refused to give up. "Is that really all I am to you? Because it feels like there's more."

He looked away, his hands clenching at his sides. "It doesn't matter what I feel. What matters is keeping you safe."

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It matters to me."

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, finally, he turned back to her, his eyes intense. "Willow, I..."

But whatever he was going to say was lost as he abruptly turned away, his control once again asserting itself. Willow watched him, her frustration and desire mingling into a heady mix of emotions. She didn't know how much longer she could take his steely reserve. But one thing was clear: she wasn't going to give up. Not yet. Not when she felt she was so close to breaking through the walls he had built around himself.

Of course, for all she knew, Cage was an assassin sent by Frank or his buddies at the Shadow League. That thought should have quelled any desire she had for him, but it didn't. If anything, the idea that he might be an assassin, completely forbidden, was even more intoxicating.

Willow knew she was being an absolute idiot and that the stories in her novels were just that—fiction. But she didn't care. She wanted him more with each passing day. And not just because it might keep him from killing her. It was something darker that made her want the man who might take her life. She couldn't deny that she wanted to feel his hands around her throat, but only to heighten her pleasure. God, she'd lived too long with Frank and read way too many erotic novels. Not everybody got a happy ending.

Willow felt a burning shame for her thoughts and fantasies. The way he looked at her made her wonder if he could read her thoughts. The idea that he could made her want to throw up, and she turned to run to her room, wanting to lock herself away from him before she made a complete fool of herself.

It was all in her head. Any attraction she thought he might have for her was all in her head. Guys like Cage Weston didn't fall for women who looked like her. They fell for supermodels, right? What was wrong with her? Was she losing her mind? And if she was, would she be able to maintain her sanity until the danger was over?

She stopped just outside her room, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts. Maybe she should find a way to get a message to Mercy. Surely someone had a number to call if Willow needed emergency help. But who could she ask? The people she saw moving in and around the island seemed to have nothing to do with the castle, and everyone here at the keep seemed to answer to Cage in some weird way. How do you ask for help when you want to sleep with a man who might be there to kill you? God, this was so fucked up, and so was she.

Leaning against the door frame, she closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. She was letting her imagination run wild, allowing her fears and desires to mix in a dangerous cocktail of confusion. Cage had given her no reason to distrust him, but the uncertainty gnawed at her. The way he had avoided her since that day on the beach, the formal distance he maintained—it all fed into her paranoia.

She shook her head, pushing away the doubts. She needed to be strong, to keep herself together until this was all over. But the ache inside her, the longing for Cage, was making it difficult. She wanted to trust him, to believe that he was there to protect her, not harm her. But the shadows of her past and the betrayal she had endured with Frank made it hard to trust anyone.

Taking a deep breath, Willow stepped into her room and closed the door behind her. She needed to clear her head, to focus on something other than her tangled emotions. Maybe she should take a break from the romance novels she usually read and pick up something different. Agatha Christie and Jane Austen sounded like a good start.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she picked up her e-reader and started browsing for a new book. But her mind kept drifting back to Cage, to the way he had looked at her, the way his touch had set her on fire. She couldn't escape the pull he had on her, no matter how hard she tried.

She sighed, dropping the e-reader onto the bed. Maybe she was losing her mind. Or maybe, just maybe, she was falling for the one man who could keep her safe in more ways than one. Only time would tell if her instincts were right. Until then, she would have to find a way to navigate the dangerous waters of her desire and fear and hope that in the end, she wouldn't drown.

CAGE

As he watched Willow rush away, Cage knew he had messed up. Again. He couldn't seem to help it. He wondered if claiming her and being able to have endless nights of sex with her would help. He snorted. That was just his bear's way of trying to justify what he wanted to do. The problem for Cage was, he wanted to do it, too. He was trying so hard to keep her at arm's length to protect her. If he let that distance slip, he feared he'd lose his objectivity and focus. And if that happened, it would be Willow who suffered the consequences.

Cage watched her disappear around a corner, his chest tightening with a mix of frustration and longing. For a moment, he considered going after her and apologizing, trying to explain. But he knew it would only make things worse. She deserved better than his conflicted emotions. She, too, needed to focus on staying alive and providing the testimony that might be needed to put her slimy arms-dealing husband away for life. The Shadow League would answer to the Resistance, and she had provided them with invaluable information.

He followed her back to her room. Outside in the hallway, he placed his hand on her doorknob and thought about opening it, but then thought better of it. His bear roared in frustration and anger. Cage ignored him and went to meet with his security team. He needed a distraction, something to ground him in the present and keep his mind off the turmoil inside. The team was already gathered in the control room, their expressions serious as they monitored the screens.

"Report," Cage barked, his voice sharp and authoritative.

One of the guards, a burly man named Harris, stepped forward. "Sir, no unusual activity to report. All incoming and outgoing planes and boats have been accounted for. No unidentified signals or unauthorized personnel. Delta Team departed this morning at zero three-thirty and Omega Team arrived just after dawn. Everything's quiet."

Cage nodded, his eyes scanning the array of monitors. It was routine, but it was necessary. He needed to know that every possible threat was being monitored, every potential danger anticipated. His gaze lingered on one of the screens, where he could see Willow closeted in her room. Her shoulders shook, and it didn't take a genius to realize she was crying.

The sight twisted something deep inside him. He had done that to her. His attempts to protect her were hurting her in ways he hadn't anticipated. He turned to the technician manning the cameras.

"Turn off the interior cameras in her room," he ordered, his voice softer but no less commanding. "Monitor the entrance and exit points only. Let's give her a little privacy. It's the least we can do for her."

"We followed your orders and had been turning them off when she went to bed, but we can go to just watching ingress and egress positions at all times."

"Do it."

The technician hesitated, glancing at Cage before nodding and complying. The screen showing Willow's room went dark, leaving only the exterior views. Cage took a deep breath, trying to shake off the guilt gnawing at him. He needed to stay focused, to keep her safe. But the image of her crying, of the pain he had caused, was seared into his mind.

He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. He really was going to kill Colby, and god help anyone who laid so much as a finger on Willow. She was his fated mate, and he would do whatever was necessary to keep her safe and alive. He couldn't afford to let his emotions get in the way. He had to remain objective, detached. But the more time he spent around Willow, the harder that became. Her presence was like a magnet, pulling him in despite his best efforts to resist.

As the meeting continued, Cage's thoughts kept drifting back to her. He remembered the way she had looked at him on the beach, the defiance and desire in her eyes. He had wanted to kiss her then, to close the distance between them and give in to the pull he felt. But he couldn't. Not while the danger still loomed.

He listened to his team's updates with half an ear, his mind spinning with plans and contingencies. But always, in the back of his mind, was the thought of Willow. How could he keep her safe when he was losing control? How could he protect her when every instinct screamed at him to claim her and make her his?

Cage lingered for a moment, staring at the now-blank screen that had shown Willow's room. He needed to find a way to balance his duty with his growing feelings for her. He couldn't let his emotions compromise her safety. But he also couldn't stand to see her in pain because of him.

He had to find a way to fix this. To protect her without pushing her away. To keep her safe without breaking her heart. It was a delicate balance; one he wasn't sure he could maintain. But for Willow, he would try. He had to.

Cage was drawn out onto the balcony of the command center; Jones—his second-in-command, a man he trusted with his life; one he would trust with Willow's—stepped out to join him.

Cage sniffed the air, his eyes never leaving the horizon. "Do you feel it?"

Jones nodded, his expression grave. "Something's coming."

They stepped back inside. The security team's daily meeting was just wrapping up when something caught Cage's eye on one of the monitors. He pointed to a blip on the radar.

"What's that?"

Everyone's attention was immediately riveted to the screen. It only took the space of the heartbeat for the team to start to scramble and the techs to go to work

Cage and Jones ran back to the window, pulling out their binoculars, focusing on the barely discernible shapes moving swiftly across the water. Boats. Several of them, heading straight for the island.

"Sound the alarm," Cage ordered, his voice steady. "Get everyone to their positions. This is not a drill."

Within moments, the fortress was alive with activity. Men and women, all highly-trained operatives, moved with purpose as they took up defensive positions. Cage made his way to the command center, where the surveillance screens displayed live feeds from various points around the island.

"Multiple boats approaching," one of the techs reported. "Estimated arrival in ten minutes."

Cage's mind raced. He knew who was most likely behind this. Her damned husband, Frank Carlyle. The attack didn't have the smooth operational quality or sheer numbers an attack from the League would have had. Cage had underestimated Carlyle's reach, his determination to get Willow back, or perhaps to eliminate her altogether. But why now? And how had he located her? Now, that was something the League might have been able to supply Carlyle and then sit back and let Carlyle and his men test the island's defensive capabilities.

"Davis, take Team Alpha and secure the east side," Cage commanded. "Team Bravo, with me. We'll hold the front."

Davis nodded and moved out with his team. Cage grabbed his earpiece, ensuring it was secure. "Jones, do you read me?"

There was a brief pause before Jones answered. "I've got her with me. We're almost in the safe room in the basement."

"Weston? Weston? What's happening?" Willow's voice held concern, but not panic. "What's happening?"

"We've got an attack unit incoming. But we can handle them. I need you to stay with Jones and do whatever he tells you."

"I can help," she protested. "I'm not some damsel in distress."

"I know that," Cage said, his tone softening despite the urgency. "But I need to know you're safe. Jones can ensure that. Please, Willow, I don't have time to argue. Can you do that for me?"

There was a pause before she responded. "Okay. But be careful."

"Good girl. You'll be fine, I promise," he replied, disconnecting. He turned to Bravo Team. "I hand selected each and every one of you. We've got this. Move! Move!"