Soul Chase (Dark Souls)

by Anne Hope

  “I’m not sure what I saw,” he voiced honestly. A soul usually left the body housing it the second the heart stopped. He hadn’t thought it possible for an essence to cling to its remains.

  She laughed through her grief. “It was my mother’s spirit. She was here, and she heard me.”

  Adrian wasn’t about to argue with her.

  Emma placed the boot on a nearby rock and turned into his embrace. His arms instinctively came around her, tightening. She pressed her cheek to his heart and sighed, with pleasure or sorrow he couldn’t say.

  “Do you think I’ll ever see her again?” Her words were muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

  “Anything’s possible.” He’d been around long enough to know that fate was a tricky business. Souls had a way of finding each other again, through time and space and the ever-present threat of a coming apocalypse.

  “Where do we go from here?” she asked him, as her warmth seeped through his clothing to thaw the ice that had clung to him for decades. The northern hemisphere may have been on the brink of winter, but for him, spring had finally come.

  “To Oregon, where we’ll start our new lives as Watchers.” He still had his doubts, but they grew hazier by the minute. A man knew when he’d found his destiny, and his was nestled in his arms.

  “And you’re all right with that?”

  He withdrew far enough to look down at her tear-stained face, bringing his palm to the back of her skull and tilting her head backward. With his other hand, he wiped the moisture from her lashes. “I’m not sure. I’m used to being on my own. It’ll be strange living under the same roof with my father and brother and, apparently, my great-grandfather.”

  He still hadn’t wrapped his brain around the fact that Cal was the fallen angel who’d fathered Athanatos. All these years he’d avoided the guy like the plague, and it turned out they were blood. Then again, in his experience, blood didn’t equate to much.

  “Then why are you doing it?”

  “Because it’s where we need to be.” The sinking sensation he’d experienced in the catacombs nagged at him. For a second, he’d been enveloped by dark energy, and a growing sense of apprehension had engulfed him. He’d attributed the disturbing event to paranoia, but truth be told, he wasn’t entirely convinced the threat had been imagined.

  “You look upset. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  He gazed into those ever-changing eyes and pushed his musings of doom and gloom aside. There was no use worrying her needlessly. She’d been through enough as it was.

  “It’s nothing. Just nerves. I’ll get over it.” He forced a smile. “Ready to head back?”

  “Marcus said we have till sunrise.” Mischief brightened her expression.

  “Is there somewhere else you’d like to go?”

  “Yeah, everywhere.” A leaf fell from one of the trees above and embedded itself in her hair. “I want to see the subway station where we met and Reach and your lair. I want to see my old house and the theater in Times Square. I even want to see the Manhattan Bridge. For just a few hours, I want to be Angie again.”

  He plucked the brittle leaf from her hair and extended his hand to her. When she placed her fingers trustingly in his, he saw his whole life reflected in her eyes. The past, the present and the future all merged into one, and he realized that time was nothing but an endless loop. It moved forward, seemingly in a straight line, while imperceptibly turning onto itself until you found yourself standing at the beginning again.

  As he pulled Emma against him and walked the familiar path to her old building, where a lone lamppost stood across the street patiently waiting for him, he was filled with awe and anticipation and a rare feeling he thought he’d never experience again—hope.

  Marcus’s words echoed through his mind, the words to a prophecy Adrian had yet to completely understand.

  “The third will inspire hope.”

  If that was Emma’s destiny, then she had indeed succeeded.

  They stopped in the exact spot where he used to stand and look longingly up at her window. Another family occupied Angie’s penthouse now, unaware that an angel had once dwelled within those walls.

  Wistfulness glazed her expression as she glanced up at her old home. “It hasn’t changed a bit. I wonder if Henry’s still the doorman.”

  “I doubt it. He’d be close to eighty now.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. Sometimes I forget how much time has passed.”

  He knew the feeling. It seemed like only yesterday he’d stood beneath this lamppost contemplating ways to coax a kiss from her.

  Everything had changed…and nothing.

  Acting on impulse, he swept down and brushed his lips across hers. She returned the kiss, then smiled up at him. “What was that for?”

  He flashed a wicked grin and stroked the corner of her mouth, savoring the taste of her on his tongue. “For old times’ sake.”

  She shook her head reproachfully, but amusement lanced across her face. “Once a Rogue, always a Rogue.”

  Threading her arm with his, she led him to the subway station, where they rode the train, first to Lexington and 59th Street, then to Times Square and finally to Reach. The building that once housed the nonprofit organization was now home to a real-estate firm.

  Emma’s face fell. “I don’t know why I thought it would still be here.”

  “It closed down about a decade ago,” he told her. “But I think the halfway house is still operating.”

  They walked the two blocks to the halfway house, standing across the street and watching as people sought shelter within the weathered building. “The place is grungier than I remember,” she said, “but at least it’s here.” A small, sad smile tugged at her lips. “I’m glad to see people still have a place to go to get out of the cold.”

  Just then, a brisk wind blew, sending her hair rioting around her face. Adrian studied her, his chest swelling with affection. Nostalgia glazed her features, and he could see her struggling to reconcile the past with the present. She needed to make peace with the woman she used to be, to let go of old dreams in order to make room for new ones.

  And he would be there to help her. Always.

  “Are you ready for the next stop?” he asked her.

  She nodded, her lips pressed together, her countenance stiff. “Let’s go.”

  But she couldn’t help but glance back at the aging building as she walked away.

  Adrian took her to the abandoned subway station that had once served as his home, and any regret Emma had felt at leaving Reach evaporated. Excitement shimmied down her spine as she inspected her surroundings.

  This was it; his old lair.

  The space was empty now, nothing but bare walls and water-damaged floors, but in her mind she saw it as it had once been, a European palace buried several stories beneath the city. She pictured the roman columns adorned with intricate designs, the sconces and chandeliers that had once cast a golden aura throughout the cavernous space, the books and paintings and marble statues crammed in every corner.

  “You were trying to recreate the catacombs,” she intuited.

  He shrugged in that self-deprecating way of his. “It was all I knew at the time.”

  It was a big stretch from this to the development he’d later bought in Spokane. “Why townhouses?” she asked.

  “I wanted a place where you could feel at home.”

  And she had, both as Angie and as Emma. She wondered what the Watchers’ complex would be like, then decided it didn’t matter as long as Adrian was with her. “Any place where you are is home.”

  He smiled at that and swooped in for another kiss. Emma happily complied, pulling him hard against her and leaning her back on one of the columns. “For old times’ sake,” she whispered breathlessly when they pulled apart.

  “Once a tease, always a tease.” His lips glided across her cheek to harass the sensitive spot beneath her ear, and she wondered exactly which one of them was the tease.


  “Do you miss it?” She ran her hand over the dusty column. “The thrill of the hunt, the freedom.” She couldn’t help but worry that she’d somehow tamed him, the way he’d attempted to tame the land in Arizona.

  “No.” The absolute certainty in his voice surprised her. “Freedom can get pretty lonely.” His gaze circled the room. “I don’t belong here anymore. I belong with you.”

  If happiness were a color, it would be the exact shade of Adrian’s eyes. Despite the dense shadows that enveloped them, she saw his face clearly in the dark. She ran her thumb over his mouth, traced the curve of his jaw, brought her palm to rest against the hard slant of his cheek.

  He’d always believed his destiny was to save her, but he had it all wrong. She was the one who was meant to save him. She realized that now.

  “Take me to the Manhattan Bridge.” The sudden compulsion to see the place where Kyros had attempted to kill her seized her.

  “Are you sure?”

  She extricated herself from his embrace and made her way to the exit. “I’m sure.”

  By the time they stood on the pedestrian walkway overlooking the East River, the sun was setting over Manhattan. A glittering haze cloaked the city, giving the buildings a surreal glow. Emma stood on the south side of the bridge, gazing at the Statue of Liberty in the distance. The lady was as regal as she remembered, arm stretched toward the sky in an unmistakable gesture of triumph.

  Above them, cars and trains roared past in a frantic rush to get to the other side. For Emma, however, time moved backward. In that suspended heartbeat, she was Angie again, weak and powerless and at the mercy of a creature hell-bent on destroying her. She recalled the bitter despair Kyros’s words had elicited within her, the way he’d gotten inside her head and stolen her hope.

  “I understand now.” As Emma she’d seen what the Kleptopsychs did to people. As Angie she’d experienced it firsthand. “I remember what it felt like to have Kyros invade my soul, how bleak everything had looked when he’d planted negative thoughts in my head.”

  In her past life she’d toiled to save people from themselves, but what she’d done was the equivalent of trying to mend a broken bone with a bandage. Now she had a chance to truly make a difference, to fight the hopelessness and despair before the disease could spread. For the first time in both this existence and the last, she knew her purpose, the reason she was created.

  Her hand rose to the birthmark on her neck. “I’m part of the cure,” she whispered, her tone tinkling with awe. “And so are you.”

  Adrian arched a curious brow. “The cure to what?”

  “The darkness.” A smile spread through her. “Together, we’re going to heal the world.”

  Doubt skipped across his features. “That’s a pretty tall order.”

  “Maybe. But we’ll succeed. I just know it.”

  They stood in reverent silence, as still as the stone statue across the harbor, listening to the wind howl over the water and traffic thunder overhead. Night descended, swift and unforgiving to swallow the day, but it failed to break the spell that held them in its thrall.

  Emma had no idea how long they remained that way. Eventually, the traffic eased, with only the occasional growl of a motor disrupting the stillness. No pedestrians apart from them loitered on the bridge, and the city that never slept seemed to have fallen into a deep slumber.

  Adrian wound his arm around her waist and drew her against the length of his powerful body. “Ready?”

  That one word resonated with a world of meaning. “I’m ready.”

  She was ready to start her new life as a Watcher, her new life with Adrian. Whatever the future held, she would embrace it. Never again would she run from her destiny.

  He gripped her hip and urged her forward in that strong, quiet manner of his. That touch alone fortified her in a way words never could. He was her dark angel, now and always, and she would follow him to the ends of the earth if need be.

  When he smiled that endearing crooked smile of his, her heart turned over in her chest, and she nestled closer, seeking his warmth, needing it. She breathed in his familiar earthy scent and sighed in the deepening night, oddly content. “Let’s go home.”

  About the Author

  Anne Hope is the author of emotionally intense romances with a twist—a twist of humor, a twist of suspense, a twist of magic. All her stories, however, have a common thread. Whether they make you laugh or cry or push you to the edge of your seat, they all feature the redeeming power of love and the heart’s incredible ability to heal.

  Anne’s passion for writing began at the age of eight. After penning countless stories about enchanted houses, alien girls with supernatural powers and children constantly getting lost in the woods, she decided to try her hand at romance. She lives in Montreal, Canada, with her husband, her two inexhaustible kids, a lazy cat and a rambunctious Australian Kelpie.

  To learn more about Anne Hope, please visit www.annehope.com. Send an email to Anne at anne@annehope.com.

  Look for these titles by Anne Hope

  Now Available:

  Where Dreams Are Made

  Broken Angels

  Dark Souls

  Soul Bound

  Soul Deep

  Soul Thief

  Born to hunt and destroy…until the light of one soul reawakens his own.

  Soul Thief

  © 2013 Anne Hope

  Dark Souls, Book 0.5

  Adrian knows he once possessed a soul, but it abandoned him the day he was murdered. The day he was reborn as a Rogue, shunned by humans and hunted by his own kind. By night he feeds the darkness inside him by finding and snuffing out corrupt souls, perfectly content to live as an outcast—until a random act of violence unites him with a woman who makes him feel.

  Angelica Paxton believes everyone deserves a second chance. Even her rescuer, a mysterious stranger with hypnotic powers, an unsettling ability to invade her dreams, and a shocking secret. Much as her body wants to succumb to Adrian’s seductive charms, she can’t. Not without breaking his newly awakened heart.

  Adrian swears to protect Angie from his kind, even if staying by her side means volunteering at the center where she works to reform the very souls he has vowed to crush. Even if it means abandoning the shadows for the light. Even if that light exposes the darkest threat he’s ever faced. One from which he is powerless to save her…

  Warning: This book contains flying subway cars, a woman in jeopardy, a relentless villain who’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants, and a dark, sexy hero who could very well haunt your dreams and steal your heart.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Soul Thief:

  Angie gave the driver her address on the Upper East Side, avoiding Adrian’s curious glance. Some of the most expensive real estate in the country could be found on the Upper East Side. This section of the city boasted the most exclusive private schools and housed some of the wealthiest New Yorkers. Many famous families had resided on the Upper East Side over the years, including the Rockefellers, the Kennedys and the Roosevelts. The area was home to movie stars and fashion designers, trendy restaurants and even trendier shops.

  Angie wasn’t a movie star or a fashion designer. She just happened to come from old money, and she refused to allow her address to define her. She was her own person, with a grassroots approach to life. She wasn’t content to sit in her ivory tower and watch the world unfold around her from her bedroom window. She wanted to be smack in the middle of it, getting her hands dirty, living life to the fullest, even if it hurt. Not only did she want to experience the world, she wanted to change it.

  Angie had inherited her idealism from her father. Frederic Paxton had given up a successful law practice to work as a public defender. For years he’d toiled to give disadvantaged members of the community second chances, only to see them stumble right back into lives of crime. Instead of becoming disheartened, he’d founded Reach, investing a great deal of his personal wealth into the nonprofit organization. His hope
was to reform troubled teens and keep them off the streets by housing them, educating them and counseling them.

  When he died, the torch had passed on to her, and she had every intention of keeping it burning.

  The cabby stopped in front of the prewar mansion Angie indicated. Adrian paid the fare, then helped her out and escorted her toward the building, a French gothic construction with a canopied entrance.

  He studied the building, then turned a pair of befuddled, assessing eyes her way. “Who are you?”

  “I’m just Angie. This house once belonged to my grandfather. Years ago, he converted it to a condo complex, selling most of the units except the penthouse, which he kept for himself. Now it’s ours.”

  “And I thought I’d spent the night with royalty.”

  His words, coupled with his intense gaze, sent a strange quiver traveling through her limbs. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “You couldn’t.”

  “What?”

  “Disappoint me.”

  Why wouldn’t he stop staring at her? And that lopsided grin that caused his cheek to dimple made her feel all warm and tingly inside, similar to the sensation she experienced when the elevator dropped too fast and her heart climbed into her throat.

  “Walk with me for a minute.” His request surprised her. She thought once he got her home, he’d disappear. Instead, he wanted to prolong their interlude.

  A smart woman would’ve refused, rushed into the building and locked herself in. Angie wasn’t particularly smart. At least not when it came to caution.

  Either that or he’d just screwed with her head, because nothing could’ve stopped her from following him.

  Central Park was deserted this early in the morning and offered the privacy he sought for the act he needed to perform. These old buildings often had doormen at the entrances, and Adrian wanted no witnesses.

  Leading her to the vast expanse of green a short distance away, he refused to admit he was making excuses, that maybe he wanted to prolong their time together, that perhaps he wasn’t ready to part with Angelica Paxton just yet. After a hundred and sixty-eight years of numbness and dangerous highs, he felt an odd kind of balance, torn between emotion and thought. Each pulled him in a different direction, clouding his mind and filling him with regret at what he was about to do.