Page 5 of Israel

Chapter 3

“I really do not need a personal bodyguard,” Ashley said, for the fifteenth or sixteenth time. “Cancel it.”

The guys sighed in unison. Her three bandmates were almost identical—black hair and dark eyes, with wiry builds and, normally, mischievous expressions.

At the moment they all just looked long-suffering and annoyed.

Enzo said, “Uh, no. Because remember? You have a lilac-obsessed stalker that sends you creepy notes?”

“And thinks you’re destined to be his Bride of Frankenstein,” added Julio.

“He probably has a dungeon prepared for you right now,” Carlos put in. “And he’s planning on chaining you there and watching you mummify while he worships your rotting remains.”

“Fuck you,” Ashley muttered. “That last image was really not necessary.”

“It is if you won’t listen to us,” Enzo said. “We know best.” He smirked, and then ducked as Ashley threw an empty soda can at him.

Too bad they all had shifter reflexes. Still, he was kind of right, even though she would never feed his overinflated ego by telling him so. Like Harrison, the Malsueño brothers had pledged to the Elders that nothing would happen to Ashley while she was in their care. And even more important, nothing would happen to expose her people—to the human world, or to other shifters.

Between them, it was like having four super-annoying and overprotective older brothers.

Ashley fingered the necklace she wore. It was elegantly crafted lace filigree, with a fire opal set in it just below her collarbones. She never took it off—she couldn’t take it off. It was both a reminder, and a chain that bound her.

She was allowed out on sufferance, and if anything went wrong, back she went. And nobody but her bandmates and Harrison would be sorry to see her fail.

Well, her fans and the tour staff, probably. But there was a financial guarantee behind the tour, if it were cut off due to Ashley being “unable to fulfill her obligations.” Like, for instance, if she were dragged back to her family kicking and screaming.

Her family could well afford the money, and Ashley felt better knowing that no one would lose financially if she messed this up.

Which is not going to happen,she told herself firmly.

“Are you trying to tell me you big, strong, macho guys can’t protect me yourselves?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at them. “And here I always thought you were so manly.”

They just grinned. Like any other brothers, they were completely immune to her charms. Dammit.

“Of course we are, we’re totally badass,” Julio said, as if it were obvious. “Against everyday stuff, we’re your guys: hurricanes, ninjas, handsy roadies, rioting crowds. But a psycho stalker who’s targeting you specifically? Not our area of expertise.”

“Harrison talked to the Enforcers, got one of their ugliest guys,” Enzo added. “I mean, one of their best guys. He’ll stick to you like glue. Breathe down your neck. Drool in your Cheerios.”

“Yeah, he’s probably a knuckle-dragging gorilla,” Carlos added cheerfully. “With a unibrow and a forehead that sticks out like a Neanderthal’s. Good luck getting any action with him hanging over your shoulder, grunting and mouth-breathing and flexing his hamlike fists. Shit like that can shrivel a guy’s dick faster than watching Project Runway.”

“What’s wrong with Project Runway?” Julio asked. “Just because you have no fashion sense—”

“Please,” Ashley said. “Just having you guys hanging around is enough to tank my sex life.”

“Not that we’ve noticed,” Enzo said. “There was that guy in Knoxville—”

“And the one in Montgomery—”

“Okay, Judger McJudgypants,” Ashley cut him off. “That’s enough. There’s nothing wrong with a little healthy recreational sex now and then.”

Or a lot of recreational sex. That’s what happened when sheltered little princesses went out into the world, right? They went a little Shifters Gone Wild. It wasn’t like she was hurting anybody. The guys she hooked up with were all in love with the “Silver Star,” her glittering stage persona, and happy to get a taste of it.

That was the weirdest thing about her growing fame—the part she hadn’t quite expected. How people saw her onstage or listened to her CDs, and thought they knew her. She didn’t even write most of her songs, and listeners thought they all came from her own life.

She was a face to pin their fantasies to. Not a real person.

But hey, the sex was pretty good. So there was that.