Angela laughed, unable to deny that it was quite enjoyable to move around the floor with him. “I might be. Although this is making me realize how little I get out. I haven’t done anything like this in ages. Well—nothing ever just like this. Our dances in Bristol are a bit different. Less …vibrant.”
“Well, we get pretty vibrant down here in Baton Rouge,” Ryan said, his twang tickling her ear. “You look good when you’re having fun, Angela Winston. You should have fun more often.”
“Are you implying that I don’t look good otherwise?” she asked, surprising herself with her easily feigned indignation. She smiled up at him, and he grinned back at her.
“In my professional capacity, I can’t answer that question,” Ryan said. “You’re my boss, after all. The customer is always right—isn’t that the phrase?”
“Something like that,” she said, “which actually means that you’re obligated to tell me things I want to hear.”
He considered that, pursing his lips. “True. That’s a good point. In that case, Ms. Winston, I do believe that you may be the most beautiful woman in this room.”
Angela felt her cheeks flush with pleasure, which was absolutely ridiculous, because they were just teasing good-naturedly, and she had just implied that he should compliment her regardless of whether or not it was true. He wasn’t really flirting with her, and even if he had been, she could hardly consider encouraging such things.
But the logical part of her brain was exhausting, and if she was here to have fun, then she was going to try to forget all the rational reasons for keeping her head on straight and just believe that he did, in fact, find her attractive. “Why, thank you,” she said, trying not to let her smile take over her whole face. “You are also a very good dancer, by the way. It’s like Louisiana runs in your veins.”
“It does,” Ryan said, speaking sincerely. “This place is my home. It’s the only place I’ll ever need, and I love it. This kind of thing—it’s definitely in my blood. I don’t think I mentioned that I actually live out in the bayou. It’s an isolated little place, right in the heart of the bayou. I have a dock, and a boat, and everything.”
Angela was surprised. “Really? People actually do that?”
“I don’t know about people,” Ryan said. “But I do that, yes. It’s simple living, but it’s all I’ll ever want.”
“Don’t you want to see other things, too? I’m sure that living in the bayou is incredible, but there is so much more out there in the world,” Angela said. “How do you know for sure that this is the only place for you?”
“I just know,” Ryan said, simply. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t ever visit anywhere else if the need came up or if something sounded particularly interesting. But to live somewhere else? Definitely not. This place is mine, and I belong to it.”
Angela was curious about the total commitment to one city. She had grown up in Bristol, and it was certainly her home, but she felt none of the aversion to leaving it that Ryan seemed to feel about leaving Baton Rouge. She assumed that she would return to Bristol when her nine months in the States was through, but what she would do when she finished her graduate degree was anyone’s guess. She was open to anything.
But she knew instinctively that it wasn’t fear keeping Ryan in Baton Rouge. It wasn’t a negative emotion. It was a passion for the place he called home, and she could admire that even if she hadn’t ever felt it herself.
“That’s nice,” Angela said, and she meant it. “It’s nice to feel that way about something.”
“Angela?” Ryan’s voice sounded concerned, and he’d stopped swaying them to the music. “Angela!”
She tilted her head, looking up at him curiously. “Do you understand what must be done? There must be consequences for bad behavior. He has to die, you know. He was always supposed to die.”
Chapter 7
Ryan
The change had come over her in an instant. Her body had changed in his arms, the difference visually imperceptible, but he could feel it travel along his arms as he held her. The light went out of her eyes, and her head tilted to the left. Her lips were rigid when they moved, and it was her voice that came out of her mouth, but it wasn’t really her voice. Her accent had gone, replaced with a Southern twang that didn’t fit the woman that he had interacted with throughout the day. And there was a cruelty in her tone that didn’t belong to Angela Winston, and he would bet his life on that, despite barely knowing the woman.
“Angela,” Ryan said, taking her by the shoulders and looking down into her eyes. “Angela, do you know who I am?”
She pushed him off her, her eyes glaring. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever—ever—touch me.”
The venom in her voice drew the attention of the people closest to them, despite the loud music. Ryan put his hands up in the air, showing her and them that he had no intention of touching her against her will. But every single muscle in his body was poised for action, because he had no idea what she might do next, and if she decided to do something that would hurt or embarrass Angela Winston, Ryan wasn’t going to allow it.
He might only have six months of experience actually working cases at the Rockwell Agency, but he had been involved in the supernatural world his entire life. And he knew how to recognize the signs that someone had taken over Angela’s body. He didn’t know why or how yet, but he knew that it wasn’t her speaking right now. The person standing in front of him wasn’t his client, and he had no duty to protect it. He did have a duty to Angela Winston, wherever she was.
“Let’s go,” he said, his voice low. “Turn around and walk toward the gate. I will follow you. We will get into the car, and we will leave. Whatever it is you have to tell me, you can tell me then.”
Angela’s face twisted and a sharp laugh came from her lips. “You’re a fool if you think I’m going anywhere with you. I know what you are. I know exactly what you are. You think I can’t see, but I can, and I do, and I will make sure that the world knows what you are.”
Ryan tensed further. It was possible that the thing inside of Angela was just spouting off or talking about something else altogether, but if it was talking about Ryan’s identity as a dragon shifter, then he had bigger problems than anticipated. It wasn’t as though it was a total secret that dragon shifters lived in the area. There were plenty of people in the supernatural circles who knew exactly who and what Ryan was. But the general public did not, mostly because they didn’t want to know. And it was important that they keep not knowing and not wanting to know. If the thing inside of Angela intended to threaten him with exposure to control him, then he was between a rock and a hard place.
But he couldn’t assume that the thing knew about how he spent his nights, winging his way over the bayou.
“That’s nonsense,” Ryan said, taking a hard line with the thing. “You don’t know anything about me. My job is to help Angela, and you’re controlling Angela right now. There must be a reason. Let’s go talk about it.”
Angela scoffed at him, taking a step back and shaking her finger. “Not a chance. You’re one of them—one of the enemy. Men, with their lies and their selfish ways and their disregard. Always coming and going as they please, telling you to trust them and then trampling you underfoot when you open your heart to them. All the same—every single one of you. I’m going nowhere with you. I’m in charge tonight, and I’m going to have fun.” Angela’s eyes gleamed, and she shook her hips, her head falling back so that her hair tumbled down. “Turn the music up!”
No one responded to her command, but that didn’t stop the thing controlling Angela’s body from turning around and climbing up onto the main picnic table, her shoes picking their way through the largely empty dishes now as she shook her head and her hips to the beat of the song. Immediately, partygoers gave her their full attention, clapping along and encouraging her to continue.
Even Ryan found himself gaping with interest as Angela’s body—though not Angela herself—began to really shimmy on top of the
picnic table. Her long legs looked even taller atop the picnic table, and her full breasts swung back and forth beneath her tank top as she shook her shoulders. When she turned in a slow, sensual circle, moving her hips back and forth, Ryan felt his mouth go dry.
That wasn’t Angela up there, but goddamn that was Angela’s beautiful body, and it was on full display.
Angela would absolutely hate that.
The thought was enough to bring him back from his place of temporary insanity, and Ryan rushed forward, pushing through the growing crowd and stepping onto the bench of the picnic table. He grabbed Angela around the waist and pulled her towards him, lifting her down from the table as she continued to swing her hair.
“Sorry, boys,” Ryan called out for effect. “That’s my signal to take my girl home for the night. Better to put that energy to use in private!”
There was loud applause and some catcalling, and to Ryan’s surprise, he was able to maneuver Angela’s body down from the table with relative ease. She didn’t fight him as he lifted her up into his arms and started to carry her towards the gate that would let them out of the backyard so he could take her all the way to the car.
For a moment, he thought that they might actually escape, but then Angela bent her head and whispered into his ear, “If you don’t put me down right now, I will scream at the top of my lungs and accuse you of abusing me. I’ll say that you hit me and control me. I’ll say that you threaten me to keep me quiet, but that I just can’t take it anymore, and I need help.”
Ryan paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes at the person in his arms who he did not know at all. “Bullshit. That’s not going to work.”
“I can play the victim very well.”
He considered giving into her demands. The last thing he needed was for a woman who he was fully carrying out of a party to start screaming accusations that were false but that would start terrible rumors about him. There were plenty of people who would gladly and swiftly rise to the occasion of protecting a battered woman.
But if Ryan gave in the first time to whoever this person inside of Angela was, he was going to have to give in every time. He would lose his power, and this thing would know how to control him. He couldn’t have that.
So he kept walking. “Go ahead then,” Ryan said, kicking open the gate with one foot and walking straight through it. “Scream your damn head off. Makes no difference to me.”
Angela looked shocked, then uncertain. “I’ll ruin your reputation.”
“Okay,” Ryan said, carrying her swiftly toward the car. “You’d better hurry then. It’s loud in there, and we’re already in the front yard. It’s going to be hard for them to hear you. Make sure you scream loudly.”
“Who do you think you are?” Angela demanded in her Southern twang. “Do you even know what a woman armed with accusations can do to a man?”
Ryan shifted her in his arms enough to allow him to grab his keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the car and deposited Angela unceremoniously in the back seat. “Who am I?” he repeated, smiling slightly. “I’m the person who’s going to end you. What do you think about that?”
Angela’s beautiful eyes narrowed with hate. “Game on,” she said, almost spitting the words. “Angela should never have gone to you for help.”
“So you know who she is,” Ryan said before shutting the door in the thing’s face. “Interesting. Very interesting.” He got into the driver’s seat and turned on the car. “Don’t try anything while I’m driving. I’m taking you back to my place, and you’re going to tell me everything it is that you want to tell me. Try anything on the drive, you could get us both killed, and I won’t risk my life to save yours—just so you know.”
“Yes, you will.”
“Oh no, I won’t,” Ryan said, starting to back out of his spot on the side of the street.
“Yes, you will. Because you care about Angela. And whatever I do—she does. Whatever happens to me—happens to her.”
Ryan gripped the steering wheel a bit harder and clenched his jaw shut. It was frustrating that she was right. He did care about Angela, and his job was to protect her. He had won, calling this thing’s bluff. That had been the right decision, and he had maintained his power. But the fact of the matter was, if this thing did something that risked Angela’s life or safety, it was going to be a very different story. He’d call her bluff if she was only going to threaten to harm him, but she did have power over what happened to Angela and that meant she had power over him as well.
“So,” Ryan said, choosing to ignore her smug statement. “Why don’t you introduce yourself to me? Here we are, about to spend the night together, and we haven’t even met properly.”
“Ha,” she said, stretching out across the backseat and making herself comfortable. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Knowing your name?” Ryan asked. “It’s a pretty standard first step in a conversation.”
“No—spending the night with me. You want to, don’t you?”
Ryan had instant, conflicting reactions. He was repulsed by the thing that was controlling Angela, but still very attracted to Angela’s appearance, which the thing currently had taken on. It made for a complicated instinctive reaction to the question, but he quickly settled on repulsion. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said. “We’re not friends. Angela is my friend. You are not Angela. You are hurting Angela. Therefore, you and I are not friends. I’m not interested in playing games with you, and I’m not scared of you. All I want to know is who you are and what you want. So I’ll repeat—why don’t you introduce yourself to me?”
“No.”
Ryan rolled his eyes, his hands tightening on the wheel of the car. “You’re clearly here because you want something.” He came to a stop at a red light and looked into the rearview mirror to watch the thing’s reaction. “You have to tell me what it is before I can help you accomplish it and leave Angela alone.”
“You think you know everything,” the thing said, glaring at him as she sat up. “You think you have all the power. Time to learn a lesson, I think.”
And then, before he could stop her, the thing had thrown open the door, leaped from the car, and taken off at an alarming speed down a relatively empty sidewalk that led to the right.
Ryan gaped after her for a moment, then glanced around, assessing his options. He had no good ones, and she was getting further away by the moment. The light was still red, but Ryan turned left anyway, dodging between two passing cars, the latter of which honked wildly at him. He raised his hand in a brief apology, then whipped into the parking lot he was aiming for. Snagging the closest parking spot, he killed the engine on his car, jumped out, and took off running after the thing controlling Angela’s body. He weaved his way between cars and jumped a low fence to take a shortcut, putting on as much speed as he possessed—which was plenty, given that he was a dragon shifter. He longed to shift and fly towards her, swooping down to pick her up in one talon, but that wasn’t an option.
When he found her, he was going to have to deal with her one-on-one, human versus whatever she was.
Chapter 8
Angela
Waking up was like coming back from the dead. One moment there was nothing, and the next there was pain in every part of her body and her eyelids were attempting to open, her lashes stuck together by some force stronger than her will. Angela coughed and spluttered as something rose in her throat, and the instincts in her body kicked in, causing her to sit up before she rid herself of the bile.
When she did sit up, nothing actually came up from her stomach, but she was finally able to open her eyes and blearily take in the room around her. It was a room that looked like it had come out of a magazine for living simply. The walls were wood and the floor was wood and the decorations, limited as they were, consisted of scenes of the bayou and the animals that lived within the bayou. There was a woven rug on the floor and a desk by the small window. And covering her legs, there was a soft, heavy quilt. She coul
d feel the texture of the stitching as she moved her legs beneath it gingerly.
And then she saw Ryan. His handsome face sent the whole night crashing back down on her, and she groaned, putting her face in her hands as the inescapable reality that she had lost time again settled over her like a heavy blanket. “Oh God,” she whispered, rocking herself back and forth. “Oh God. What is wrong with me? What is wrong with me?”
Ryan was beside her in an instant, taking her hands in his and trying to calm her down. “Shh,” he said, holding her to him, as she began to cry. Her face buried against his chest, and he stroked her back softly, his cheek resting against her hair. “Shh. You’re all right. You’re back. You’re Angela Winston, and you’re back, and everything is going to be all right.”
They were just nice words, meant to calm her, but she clung to them nonetheless. She had gone to Ryan because the girl who had shown her the video of the night she lost twelve hours had said that Ryan was the kind of person who could figure anything out—no matter how strange or impossible. Now she had lost even more time—who knew how much time—and he was there, holding her, and comforting her, and promising her that she was going to make it through this.
She had no other choice but to believe him, because if she didn’t believe him, then she thought she would probably give in to despair.
“What happened?” she managed to ask, after several minutes of allowing him to comfort her. She eased back from his hold, not wanting to look him in the eye as she lay back against the pillows. “What did I do?”
“We can talk about that when you’re ready,” Ryan said. From her peripheral vision, she could see that he was carefully studying her, and she dreaded to know the things that he might have witnessed while she was not present in her own body.
Rockwell Agency: Boxset Page 5