Chapter 2
Chapter Two
MAX
Tilda Schwan is perfect.
I’ve gone from police officer to stalker. Well, not really. Tilda knows I’m keeping watch. What she doesn’t know is that every moment with her feels like a gift.
The chief may have given me this assignment to keep one of our citizens safe, but if he’d assigned this to someone else, I’d have found a way to change assignments.
She’s too good for me. In fact, I haven’t the slightest hope that anything could come from my desires. No creature as pure and lovely as her would ever give a hulking Sasquatch a second look.
It’s irrelevant, though. I’m drawn to her in a way I’ve never experienced before. As I sit in the police truck, modified to fit my size, I watch her house and make sure the street is safe.
The engine of a cruiser rumbles and parks behind me. Shoes on the pavement alert me to an officer’s approach. In my side view mirror, Chief Martinez is striding my way.
I roll down my window. “Chief.”
“Good morning, Max. How was the night?” He leans on the truck, scanning the area.
“Quiet.”
“Good.” He pauses and studies the house. “You should go home and sleep.”
Before I can argue, he holds up a hand for silence. “I spoke to Mr. Radu this morning. Pierre Brochet committed suicide last night.”
A wash of relief flows over me, and at the same time, I have no further reason to keep watch on my swan. “You came to tell Miss Schwan?”
Studying me for a long moment, he nods. “If you want to accompany me, I’m sure Miss Schwan would appreciate your presence. After all, you’ve been her protector for all these months.” He wipes his brow, as even the early mornings in late summer are hot.
Opening the door, I step out. “I appreciate that, Chief.” I’m relieved she’s out of danger, but I’m not sure how she’ll react. She and I rarely discussed her time with Brochet. My impression is that she’d rather not talk about those years of her life, though in hindsight, maybe she needed to.
With a brisk nod, Martinez heads for the front door, and I follow.
We’re several feet away when the door swings open, and in a long white nightgown and matching white robe, Tilda stands staring. “Something’s happened? Is it Pierre? Did he get away? Is he here?” She grips the edges of her satin robe and wraps it around herself.
Jorge Martinez is great with people. His voice is deep and gentle, putting everyone around him at ease. “Miss Schwan, everything is alright. Let’s go inside, and I’ll tell you why we’re here.”
She swallows nervously and backs up to allow us to step inside.
I close the door behind me.
“Tell me quickly, Chief. I don’t think I can stand it if you hem and haw,” she demands, though her voice is so soft, it’s hard to hear the strength of her conviction.
In the years I’ve been in Harmony Glen, I’ve noticed that the chief always pauses when he’s trying to decide what’s best for someone, even when they don’t know it. “You might want to sit down, Tilda.”
“Oh god, did he harm someone else?” Her blue eyes fill with tears, and she grips the wall behind her. Vampires are strong, and despite her size, she digs her fingers through the drywall.
“No. Pierre Brochet is dead.”
“Dead…” Her eyes roll back in her head, and her skin goes pale even for a vampire.
I reach out and lift her off her feet before she hits the floor. “Easy. I’ve got you.”
“Nice catch, Max.” He sighs and pulls out his phone. “Maybe put her on the couch. I’ll call Mari. She was my next stop this morning.” He shakes his head. “I should have done this better.”
“It would have been a shock no matter how you told her.” Crossing to the couch, I ease her carefully down and pull a soft blanket from the back over her since the nightgown hides little of what lies beneath.
With vampire speed, Mari is at the door in less than two minutes. She rushes through the house and kneels beside her sister. “Did she hit the floor? Do we need blood from the hospital?”
I’ve never seen Mari so worried. Even when her vicious sire, Brochet, came to claim her, she was in control.
“She didn’t hit the floor.”
The chief brings a wet towel from the kitchen. He presses it to Tilda’s forehead. “Max didn’t let her fall. I should have called you first.” An apology rings in his words.
She stares at the chief, then looks at me as Sam ducks through the front doorway and squeezes his shoulders through sideways. “What happened?”
Realization dawns behind Mari’s eyes. “Pierre is dead?”
With a nod, the chief says, “He killed himself. Mr. Radu called me this morning. I’m sure he’ll be in contact with you soon. He said he had some arrangement to make, but he wanted to relieve any anxiety over a possible escape for you and Miss Schwan.”
Tilda’s soft moan brings our attention back to the couch. She opens her eyes, and as soon as she sees Mari, she grips her sister. “He’s dead.”
Mari wraps her arms around Tilda and rubs her back. “I just heard. He won’t be hurting anyone else.”
Sitting on the chair made to accommodate his giant-sized body, Sam says, “I’m sure you have other things to do, Chief. I think we’re okay here.”
“If you need anything, just call. Despite the circumstances, I’m relieved you ladies are out of danger and that Brochet will not be returning to Harmony Glen.”
I follow my boss to the front door. Exhaustion creeps into my body after so many months of pulling double duty to make sure my swan was safe. I finally feel the draw of my bed calling, even as the idea of leaving her sends an ache to my gut.
Tilda’s sweet voice draws me back. “Officer Gant?”
I stop at the door and look at her pushing herself to a sitting position. “Miss Schwan?”
“Thank you.” Eyes filled with tears, she meets my gaze.
With no idea what all the emotions rushing through her mean, I don’t know how to help her. Not trusting my voice as I fill with the fear of never seeing her again. She’s safe now. She might return to her homeland, or anywhere she wishes. Unable to form a word, I only nod and step outside.
Once I found my bed, I didn’t wake for almost twenty-four hours. I have barely slept since the threat to my town and Tilda arrived in the spring. The chief gave me a week off to recover and told me to get some well-earned rest.
The crisp scent of a mountain lake reaches me before the sound of a knock on my door. My heart pounds so hard, I almost drop the laundry basket I was about to fold. Putting it aside, I gather my wits and go to the door.
The late-morning sun shines from behind Tilda, bathing her in a halo of light.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Officer Gant.” Covered from head to toe in white leggings and a white hoodie, even her hands are gloved, and the bill of a cap pokes out from the hood, protecting her from the sun. She’s holding a dish, and she lifts it as if she needs an excuse to come to my home.
“You’re not, and I thought we’d agreed to use each other’s first names.” It’s not entirely true. I’m bothered by her, but that doesn’t mean I don’t welcome her company. I step aside. “Please, come in.”
She pulls her hood off and looks around my cabin in the woods.
I live at the northeast corner of what can be called Harmony Glen.
I like the trees and getting away from the noise when I’m at home.
The house is on the rustic side, and she seems too delicate to fit in here, yet she smiles. “Max.” She sighs. “This is cozy.”
“Thank you. Are you alright?” The only reason I can think of for her seeking me out is that she needs protection.
Her smile is a beacon of light. “I’m well.
I stopped by the police station, and they told me you had some time off.
” She blushes, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“I wheedled your address out of Chief Martinez.” She hands me the plate.
“I made you some German cookies. I wanted to thank you for looking out for me. I don’t think I could have made it through without knowing you were there to protect me. ”
The scent of ginger and cinnamon is a warm reminder that it’s nearly lunchtime. “It’s my job to protect the people of Harmony Glen.”
“Of course.” Eyes wide, she draws a breath and doesn’t let it out for a long moment. “I just wanted to thank you.”
As she’s backing toward the door, I realize she’s going to leave because I’m an idiot who hasn’t given her a reason to stay. “I was going to heat some soup for lunch. Would you care to join me, Tilda?” What am I even thinking? This angel does not want to have soup with a behemoth.
She nods, but says, “I don’t really eat soup, but thank you for the offer.”
I really am an idiot. “Of course. I didn’t want you to rush away, but if you have somewhere to be, I’ll see you home.”
The blue of her eyes is like the sky at dawn—deep, pure blue. “I don’t need an escort anymore. I’d like to stay for lunch, if you don’t mind that I won’t be having soup.”
Vampire hearing is legendary, and I’m sure she can tell my pulse just spiked. “Yes. Stay.” My grip on the back of the chair at my kitchen island is dangerously tight as I pull it out for her.
She hesitates, her eyes shifting from the chair to my eyes and back again.
Taking a step back, she says, “This is a bad idea. I’m sorry.
I don’t know what I was thinking.” She rushes to the door.
Hand on the knob, she looks back at me like a deer caught in the headlights. “Thank you for watching over me, Max.”
I cross from the kitchen to the living room in three steps. “Are you afraid of me, Tilda? Did I do something that…” I don’t know what to call what happened. One moment, she wanted to spend time with me, and the next, she was running away.
Shaking her head, she opens the door. “No. This is not you. I…” She clamps her lips shut and runs out and away at vampire speed, so fast that she’s only a blur.
What could I have done wrong? Does she not like someone to pull out a chair for her? Was it the way my heart pounded with the thrill of her wanting to sit and talk? Maybe she thought I’d ask questions she doesn’t want to answer.
I sit on the couch, my head in my hands.
Maybe I should be happy she has enough feelings for me to bake me cookies and bring them over.
If I were a selfless man, that might be enough.
The problem is, I’m a Sasquatch. I want more time with my swan, and I don’t want her to be afraid of me.
Though I can’t imagine she thinks I’d harm her.
One way or another, I’m going to make sure she knows that her safety and happiness are the most important things in my life. Somehow, I have to get that across without seeming like a creep.