And once more, Rufus started to growl. Softly, almost like he was trying to ask her what in the hell was going on?
“Shit…”
In the shadows, something stirred. When the yellowish gleam first appeared, Angel didn’t notice. But then it—no—they moved. Disappeared for a second, reappeared—blinking. And closer.
Eyes. Shit. Blinking yellow eyes in the front yard, something that looked like a big-ass dog. The very air around her felt heavy and cold, weighing down on her. Swallowing the huge knot in her throat, she slowly eased her mental shields down. Like rolling down a car window, she let them lower bit by bit.
Tensed.
Waiting.
There. She felt it—no. Him. Those thoughts had a decidedly male tone. Her first instinct was to jerk away, close her mental shields up tight and grab the phone. But human nature intervened again and instead of pulling back, Angel lowered her shields a little more, enough to not just sense the thoughts but make sense of them.
There was nothing of evil to them.
And she had the most fucked-up feeling whoever—or whatever—was aware of her psychic probe. It came in images and emotions, not words, but there was no denying what she was picking up.
Just like there was no denying the blackness that suddenly emerged from the night, rushing at her.
Racing toward her.
Rufus’ growls were no longer soft. He backed away from her, just a bit, and stood with his head low to the ground, hackles up and body stiff. The deep, angry growl sounding from him had gone from protective and worried to downright pissed.
Mouth gone dry with fear, Angel retreated, one step at a time, until she stood by the phone. From the corner of her eye, she saw the illuminated keypad of her phone and she started to reach for it.
But then, before she could touch it, she curled her fingers into a fist and let it drop to her side. Without understanding how, she knew that the cops couldn’t do a damn thing.
Fear could be so many things. It could be insidious and creeping—like what she’d sensed that night years before when somebody had broken into her mom’s house and attacked her, killed Kel.
It could be a fast, unending slide into madness—the slide she’d taken after Kel’s death had been riddled with fear, self-doubt and guilt.
It could be a foggy, indistinct cloud like what she’d sensed as she raced towards home only moments ago.
And it could be a storm. The storm coming at her now was hurricane force and there was nothing to shelter her from it. The silence in the air was deafening and that only made everything that much more terrifying. It was quiet, save for the sounds of her ragged panting and Rufus’ snarling growls. He inched forward even as she tried to close her fingers around the thick ruff of his fur. He kept moving, ignoring her silent commands and placed his body between her and the door.
A low…nasty…cruel chuckle.
Far, far off. Moving closer. Closer. Closer until she knew now that if she looked out the window, she’d see him. There was no shadow outside the window, but she didn’t care. He was out there now.
Out there with whatever or whoever else she’d sensed.
The hair on the back of her neck stood up and blood roared in her ears. That laugh.
She’d heard it before. In her dreams, a lingering taunt of the night that had cost her the one person in the world that she loved.
“God, not again,” she whispered, her voice ragged and harsh. “I can’t do this again.”
Something sounded just outside the door. A footstep—deliberately loud, he wanted her to hear him. To know he was near.
With her shields still down, she could feel him and the cloying, cold chill of his thoughts was as terrifying now as it had been that night. Memories once so dim, hidden by her subconscious, rose like a tidal wave, capsizing any and all attempts to think rationally. In a vain attempt to stem that flow of memories, she jerked her shields back up.
“Where are you…”
His voice was loud—too loud. Like he’d spoken through a microphone, echoing through her house, across her land. But he wasn’t speaking to her.
He was aware of her—as aware of her as she was of him, she knew it. But his question wasn’t directed at her.
The other—that presence. Was he looking…?
“You have no lack of protectors, sweet baby,” his voice crooned and this time she knew he was talking to her. She heard his words clear as a bell even though he was still outside.
Protectors—?
She glanced down at Rufus and then toward the window where she’d stood when she saw those eyes out in the darkness.
“Hmmmm… What do we have here?”
Angel jumped when she heard another speak.
Another voice. Deep. Gruff. Completely unfamiliar. “You know you shouldn’t have done this. We’re talking a mistake of epic proportions.”
The thing laughed. He was no man—she could sense nothing of humanity within him. Nothing but a pure, malicious intent. Angel had long believed that sometimes monsters walked in human form—what else could describe serial rapists, child molesters and cold-blooded killers?
Now she knew without a doubt that she was right. The monster on her porch—if he’d ever been human, it was a long, long time ago.
“You don’t really think you can stop me, do you? Nobody has yet.”
“That’s because you were smart enough to stay below the radar. But you’re in it now,” the other one said, his voice a deep, bass rumble.
The thing laughed again—that laugh seemed to be a favored taunt, managing to pack derision, amusement, malice and challenge all into one single sound, no words needed. “Tell me, Hunter, where’s the boy? Why isn’t he here to save his lady love?”
“What makes you think he isn’t?”
Another voice. It came from off to the side, faint but growing louder. Another sound, and then a shadow passed in front of the window closest to Angel. The shadowy shape paused just in front of the window and Angel stopped breathing as his head turned.
She had the weirdest feeling he knew she was there—knew exactly where, and neither the curtains nor the darkness within the house was any kind of barrier.
That voice—she licked her lips. Familiar. Tears burned her eyes. Too familiar. Slowly, she took a step forward. Then another. Another. But before she could get to the window and jerk open the curtain, he moved away.
“Ahhh… There’s the white knight. I see you brought reinforcements this time. What is it, boy? Aren’t you man enough to protect your woman on your own? Aren’t you up to a fair fight?”
Your woman—
That voice—
A whimper escaped her lips and she reached up, pressed her fingers to her lips to stifle the sound.
“Yeah, I saw just how you like to fight fair, bastard. Silver handcuffs, a weaker creature—big on equality, aren’t you?”
The words didn’t make sense to her. But they didn’t have to. She focused on the voice and when he stopped speaking, she wanted to scream. She went to the door, pressed her hands against and rested her cheek against the smooth, painted surface. Say something!
But there were no more words. Just a huge crash. Angel jumped, fell back from the door and ended up on her butt. Scrambling backward, she stared wide-eyed and terrified.
Under the fear, though, there was something inside she hadn’t felt in years. Twelve long empty years. It wasn’t hope—hope was all too often fragile and illusive.
This wasn’t hope. It was belief, strong and certain, and it wouldn’t let her stay where she was any more. Shoving to her feet, she rushed for the door but she never made it.
Hands came up from behind, grabbing her. She screamed—or tried to—but one of those hands came up, covered her mouth. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rufus, but the dog lay on the floor and as she watched, he rolled onto his back in an outright display of submission.
“Calm down, cupcake.” The voice, that deep, grumbling growl, was soft and gent
le but she was too damn terrified to be reassured.
She brought up a foot to smash down on his, but he moved too quick, evading her with ease. She tried striking back with her head, trying to smash his nose but he moved, evaded with that same seamless grace.
“Calm down,” he repeated. “Listen, I’ll take my hand away but do me a favor…don’t scream. I fucking hate screams.”
He lowered his hand. Without batting a lash, Angel opened her mouth and screamed as loud as she could.
“Damn it!” He swore, clamped a hand back over her open mouth—and got bit.
Angel closed her mouth as hard as she could, biting until she tasted blood and she still didn’t let go. He hissed and let her go. Angel stumbled away, crashing into the couch and instinctively, she jumped over it, putting it between them before she turned to face him.
She flinched as he reached out and turned on a lamp, squinting against the brightness. Rufus continued to lay on his back by the front door, his eyes rapt on the face of the man before her. A man she hadn’t ever seen in her life. He probably wasn’t even an inch taller than her and he had hair that would have done a Hollywood starlet proud, long, razor-straight and the palest blond, almost white. His eyes were equally pale, ice-blue, surrounded by a rim of deep navy.
The look on his face was one of exasperation. Scowling, he looked at his hand. “Damn it, you’re a little she-cat, aren’t you?”
Angel didn’t answer. Instead, she backed away.
The man sighed and reached up with his uninjured hand, pushing his hair back from his face. “Look, you can stay as far away from me as you want but if you try to leave the house, I’m going to stop you. You won’t like that. Let’s just avoid it.”
There was another crash outside, strong enough to shake the house down to the foundation. Low, ugly curses, an animalistic snarl. The nasty, slimy voice promising—no. You didn’t hear that. You didn’t hear that.
The words broke off mid-sentence—or they were cut off, probably by a fist. She could hear it, the ugly thwack of flesh on flesh. Her mind shied away from what was happening on the porch—even from who was on the porch, because she couldn’t think about that and the man in front of her, the man she had to get past if she was going to get out of here.
“What do you want?” she asked. The words came out through a throat gone tight with fear and had as much substance as cotton candy, but he heard her well enough.
A small, gentle smile curled his lips and he said, “Just to help. That’s all.”
He cocked his head and when he looked at her, Angel suspected he saw far deeper than most.
Her suspicions were confirmed when he said, “You can tell if I’m lying or not, if you’ll let yourself.”
She swallowed and jerked her gaze away from him. There was no way she was lowering her shields right now, not with…with…whatever that was outside her front door. She couldn’t take having that evil taint inside her thoughts again.
Sidling along, she edged a little farther away from Blond, Strange and Scary. He stood where he was, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his jeans. His chest was bare, revealing sleek, coiled muscles. Save for the slow rhythm of his breathing, he hadn’t moved at all and he looked content to just stand there watching her.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
He glanced toward the window and then back at her face. “That’s a story that would take a very long time.” He frowned and moved forward. “You need to step away from the window.”
Angel slid her gaze to the window and then back to him. With a sneer, she asked, “Why? You actually think I’m going to try to climb through it?”
“No. I think—” The look on his face abruptly changed and although some part of her mind realized he’d moved, her eyes couldn’t track him. Before she could figure that bit out, he had already grabbed her and spun her away from the window.
Just as something crashed into it. Or someone. Whoever it was didn’t come flying in but shards of glass did. Angel felt a few graze her left hand, but the rest of her body was shielded.
Shielded by his very bare upper body.
“That’s why.” He lifted her up with one arm and carried her around the couch, depositing her onto the thick cushions. Eyes narrowed on her face, he crouched down in front of her, “Stay away from the windows, if you please.”
Then he stood and as he turned away, she saw the blood on his back. Long, thin rivulets of red running down his back—the glass. Somehow, he known the window was going to break and he’d kept it from cutting her. Swallowing, she decided she might just stay right where she was. For now.
A soft whimpering sound caught her attention and she turned her head to look at Rufus. He was still on the ground, but he wasn’t laying prostrated any more. He had rolled onto his belly and lay with his head on the floor as he crept forward, eying the blond stranger.
“What did you do to my dog?”
He turned away from the open window to look at Rufus. Shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh and then he moved away to kneel down in front of the dog. “I didn’t do anything to him, ma’am. He just…” A faint smile cracked his somber face, a smile that made him look all too human, all too friendly. “He knows who the bigger dog is, that’s all. Come on, boy.” That deep, bass rumble dropped a bit more and he held a hand out to Rufus. Rufus whimpered, whined and crawled forward until he could lick the man’s hand. “That’s it. I ain’t gonna hurt you, but you already know that, don’t you?”
He slid Angel a look and then added, “Maybe you should tell your mistress that.” He gave Rufus one final stroke and then gestured to Angel. “Go on, boy.”
Rufus, as pleased as a puppy, bounded over to Angel, leaped onto the couch and sat with his big body braced against her side. Hooking an arm around his neck, Angel leaned into him. As the sounds of fighting continued outside, she pressed her face into his fur and tried to tell herself she was dreaming.
Dreaming.
Yeah. She could be.
It was possible, right?
Then the man’s voice, low and furious, jerked her out of that mindset, jerked her straight back into reality. Jolting, she shoved herself to her feet and watched as the blond paced back and forth between the two windows.
When the low, ugly laugh started, dread rolled through her.
“You didn’t really think you could stop me, boy, did you?”
“Fuck…you.” A roar.
Angel caught the flash of movement from the corner of her eye and unable to remain where she was, she headed for the window. Blondie intercepted her.
“Stay back. If you please.” He said the words this time through clenched teeth and there was a look in his eyes that she didn’t like at all.
Worry.
Somebody outside the house screamed. It washed over her like a cold flood and unable to silence it, she cried out. A pain flared in her side and she moaned. Her legs gave out and she stumbled, swayed and hit the floor.
Dimly, she saw the blond man moving. Heard him swear.
Then he was gone, leaping through the empty window frame.
That laugh. Then a howling sound and the laugh ended abruptly, followed by something that made her belly turn just to hear it—wet, gurgling, like something out there was drowning. Drowning in what? Stupid, stupid mind—always trying to puzzle something out, even just little personal thoughts—and now her mind was hard at work to fill in the what.
Blood. Choking on it.
It was the only what that came to mind and she looped her arms around her knees and hid her face against her legs. Common sense dictated she stay just where she was. It was nice and safe there… Nice and dark and if she could just block out the noises coming from outside, maybe, just maybe she could manage to convince herself this was nothing but a bad dream and she’d wake up…
Not if it’s not a dream.
Slowly, she lifted her head and looked at the windows. She could hear Blondie out there talking, his words not making much sense, but at least
she could hear him. She’d take hearing that harsh voice over the other one any day.
But no matter how hard she listened, she couldn’t pick up on that third voice…the one that sounded so heartbreakingly familiar. And it was the need to find out who’d been talking that brought her to her feet. Had her creeping to the window, peering out.
The moonlight shining down wasn’t bright enough to illuminate much—and her floodlight was no longer working. She had no idea why. It came on if a rabbit hopped across the yard and this was definitely more than a floppy-eared bunny. Blondie was easy to see, the moonlight reflecting off that pale hair of his. He stood out in the yard, looking down. She scanned the yard and the porch, searching for something else. Squinting hard, she could just barely make out someone laying on the ground at his feet—he was looking down and talking to whoever it was on the ground.
Instinctively, she tore her gaze from them. They weren’t who she was looking for. Not who she needed to see. Where… Something moved—close. On the porch. She could just barely see it.
A hand.
It twitched. Fingers curled inward. Just the hand…that’s all she could see. But the sight of that hand hit her as hard as hearing that familiar voice had just a few minutes ago. She swayed and ended up locking her knees just to remain upright. Leaning against the wall, letting it support her weight, she moved towards the front door.
Stupid, stupid girl…don’t go out there! Finally, the two voices in her head had merged into one and both of them were screeching at her.
But she couldn’t listen.
Not to save her life.
She had to go outside.
Had to look.
Had to see what was making her heart race like this—race like she’d just taken a freefall and knew without a doubt she’d land safely. Exhilarating. Intoxicating. Addictive.
No reason to feel like that when some freaky blond breaks into her house while a couple of unseen men battle it out like some live-action version of Mortal Kombat. In her front yard, no less. No, no reason to feel more alive now than she had in twelve years. She ought to be too scared to think, not burning with anticipation.
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