by Sylvia Day
“O-kay . . . To be clear,Vash—an important vampire—is involved because the gal who was abducted was important, because she’s related by marriage to the leader of the vampires. Am I following so far?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t they just call you and ask what the ransom terms are? It’s not like they can’t find you.”
“They did.”
“And they didn’t believe you’re innocent?”
“I killed her. I told Syre that.” Adrian met her gaze unflinchingly, knowing she would understand such a brutal admission of murder.
Lindsay blinked in surprise. “When?”
He descended into the living room. “When did I tell him? In Phoenix. In the airport, right after I met you.”
“So Vash knows this isn’t a rescue mission. She’s out for blood in retaliation for a death. She managed to corner Aaron and his two lycans. But instead of holding Aaron for ransom or targeting him because he’s higher up the food chain than the lycans, she lets him go. I’m confused as to why a vamp who usually only hunts big fish would toss the biggest fish back.” She looked at Elijah. “No offense to your friend.”
The lycan met her gaze. “None taken.”
Jason crossed his arms. “Killing a Sentinel would escalate the situation beyond what Syre would condone.”
“His son’s wife is dead, thanks to Adrian, but he balks at taking out one of the Sentinels?”
Damien looked at Adrian. “Go on, Lindsay. This is getting interesting.”
Lindsay twisted on the sofa, bringing him more fully into the conversation. “I’m just trying to understand what’s going on here. The vampire head honcho’s daughter-in-law gets nabbed by Elijah. Allegedly,” she qualified when Elijah opened his mouth. “Vamp dude calls Adrian to ask for her return and Adrian says he killed her. Yet Vash remains focused on the lycan involved and not the Sentinels. How come?”
Adrian’s wings unfurled. “I accused Syre of sending Nikki to attack me. He didn’t respond to the accusation as I would’ve expected, nor to my mention of Phineas, which led to me wondering whether he was losing control of his vamps.”
“Is it possible that he thinks you’re losing control of the lycans? I mean, the reverse is true. You probably didn’t respond the way he expected. He called you because he was worried about his daughter-in-law, and you didn’t even know who she was. You didn’t recognize her. But the lycans who took her knew her identity—assuming she wasn’t sick then. He’s got to be thinking that the lycans made a pretty bold move taking someone so valuable to him without you knowing about it.”
“Told you,” Jason said, looking at Adrian.
“Where are you all going with this?” Aaron asked.
Jason’s brow arched. “It’s possible the lycans are working on their own.”
“But,” Lindsay interjected, shooting a glance at Elijah, who gave nothing away on his face, “why implicate one of their own by leaving Elijah’s blood at the scene?”
Aaron exhaled harshly. “Which resulted in the death of Luke—my other lycan—on sight. There was no attempt made to capture or speak to him. And Micah is as good as dead.”
“They captured him, then let him go.”
“They left him for dead,” Aaron said. “There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” she challenged. “The whole leaving-someone-for-dead business is beyond me. Either something is dead or it’s not, and if it isn’t and you want it dead, you don’t leave it to chance. Why would Vash—?”
A silence fell over the room as Lindsay abruptly stopped speaking. All eyes rested on her until she shrugged blithely and said, “Never mind. Too complicated for me. My brain hurts.”
She stood and walked toward the windows, stepping through when one large pane of glass slid automatically to the side.
Resisting the urge to flex his wings, Adrian dismissed Jason and Aaron with an accompanying order to report to his office in the morning. He feigned nonchalance, but inside he was weighing the myriad possible reasons for why Elijah—the first Alpha to make an appearance in many years—had been set up to take the fall for Nikki’s abduction. He knew Lindsay’s mind had followed the same train of thought and she’d ceased her speculations the moment she realized how dangerous they were to Elijah.
Adrian studied the lycan as the living room cleared, noting how Elijah followed Lindsay as far as the window, guarding her still, yet making a pointed effort to stay within boundaries that wouldn’t incite Adrian’s fierce possessiveness. The lycan and Lindsay clearly had a friendship of sorts, which was why Adrian entrusted him with her protection, but that didn’t mitigate the danger Elijah presented as an Alpha. Whether he had any culpability in the abduction or not, it appeared someone had gone to great lengths to bring the Alpha lycan to the attention of the vampires, and the vamps were taking the steps necessary to formalize that introduction.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Collusion between the lycans and vampires would lead to the annihilation of the Sentinels. The numbers against them would be far too great to withstand.
Gauging Elijah’s loyalty was more important than ever. Adrian expected that fidelity would be strongest with other lycans, but it just might be strong enough with Lindsay to make defection difficult.
Elijah met his gaze as he moved to follow Lindsay outside.
Adrian paused on the threshold. “What do you think, Elijah?”
“Vash was empty-handed after speaking to Micah. She was left with the choice of interrogating another lycan before my blood sample deteriorated or following Micah back to me. I think that’s why she let him live.”
“And what will you do should she come here?”
“Eviscerate the bitch.” He growled, his eyes glowing with green fire. “Micah is my friend. He’s like a brother to me, as Phineas was to you. And she killed him. I could’ve lived with that if she’d fought him for it. But to die like this, sick and broken in a bed—no lycan should have to die like that.”
Adrian set his hand on Elijah’s shoulder and swiftly searched the lycan’s mind. A red haze of fury and grief washed over every sifting thought, none of which dealt with mutiny or treachery. Momentarily reassured, Adrian murmured, “May we all go down fighting.”
He released the lycan and stepped outside, finding Lindsay standing a safe distance away from the railing while staring at the cityscape in the distance. He embraced her from behind, wrapping her within his arms and wings.
“Your participation helped immensely,” he said with his lips to her ear. “Thank you.”
“I hate that you’re dealing with so much crap at once.” She leaned into him, placing her arms over his. “You haven’t had any time to grieve. And my being here is just making things worse.”
Adrian’s arms tightened around her. “Your being here makes things bearable.”
“You’re a glutton for punishment,” she muttered. “He’s loyal to you, you know. Elijah. And he’s a good guy.”
“That doesn’t necessarily make him less dangerous.”
“What does being an Alpha mean? What makes him different?”
“The beast within the lycans is powerful. They were created with demon blood—the blood of werewolves— and it’s very much like being possessed. They have two natures warring inside them.”
“God,” she breathed. “I can guess how that must be for them. I feel like I’m warring with myself sometimes. Especially with you. I know what I need to do, but it’s hard to shut out the voice in my head that says, To hell with the consequences.”
Shutting his eyes against her inadvertently accurate confession, he went on, “At times, the beast takes over. The lycan can’t control the need to shift or the violence that comes with it. The Alphas are different. They have the power to decide which half of their nature is most dominant, regardless of triggers or provocation, and that power seems to extend outside of themselves. They can calm and subdue the beasts in the lycans around them. The others are drawn to th
at force of will, and their beasts subjugate willingly to the Alpha, but their allegiance must be with the Sentinels first and foremost.”
Her head fell back into the crook of his shoulder, her silky golden curls brushing across his jaw. “What do you do with the Alphas?”
“We segregate them from the others and use them for assignments in which a lone hunter is required. The other lycans must work in teams.”
“Who oversees that for you? Or do you do it?”
“The dispatching of the Alphas is delegated to Reese. I can introduce you, if you like. He can answer your questions more thoroughly.”
Sighing, she tilted her head to the side. Her soft lips whispered against his chin. “I don’t know how you carry the weight of everything you’re responsible for, but I respect you for doing what has to be the most difficult job ever.”
He’d noticed in Utah that Lindsay refrained from contradicting him in front of an audience, showing him respect and displaying a restraint that was unique to her. Although she was as strong willed and passionate as Shadoe, she was far less impetuous when it came to weighing the ramifications of her words and actions. She maneuvered well through group interactions, but in a way that minimized her presence and participation. While Shadoe had always been the most vibrant individual in any gathering, Lindsay could recede from notice when she chose to. It was a defensive tactic she must have cultivated to deal with her feelings of abnormality. Who would notice she was strange if they didn’t notice her at all?
Adrian admired her ability to be circumspect, which made him ever more determined to protect her from further experiences that might erode her confidence. Lindsay Gibson was an extraordinary woman in so many ways. He never wanted her to question her worth for a moment.
Yet he’d put her in a position of being surrounded by those who distrusted and resented her. When he took himself out of the equation and thought only of her, he knew what had to be done. The sooner he killed Syre, the sooner she would be free of Shadoe’s soul and this life of war that wasn’t meant for her. But with every hour that passed, he fell a little farther and the thought of losing her gnawed a little deeper.
He knew he must have dreaded losing her with such ferocity before, but he was damned if he could remember when.
Lindsay sank into the chaise in Adrian’s bedroom and stretched out. His personal space was surprisingly spartan compared to the bedroom that had been given to her. No art adorned the walls, and the furniture was Shaker in style.
This, she thought, was more like him. Although he appeared at home surrounded by the trappings of massive wealth, it was in this room that he fit best. As she surveyed the space, the affinity she felt for him deepened. She knew how it felt to wear a guise all the time. It was exhausting and wore away at a person after a while.
Adrian was busy unpacking his bags. It didn’t escape her notice that he did it the old-fashioned way—with his two hands. Busywork hinted at agitation. Or avoidance.
Tucking her hands behind her head, she stared up at the ceiling. It was something she and her father had often done over the years—had lain on their backs and looked up at the sky, feeling the wind move over them as it whispered softly. Eddie Gibson never doubted that Lindsay heard voices in the air, even though he couldn’t hear them himself. She was so grateful to him for that unconditional love. It enabled her to love others who were extraordinary, like Adrian.
“Thank you, by the way,” she said, “for looking out for my dad. I know you need every hand right now, but I won’t talk you out of watching his back. He’s my rock. I couldn’t get by without him.”
“You’re welcome.”
She rubbed absently at the ache of homesickness in her chest. “You’re being quiet. A penny for your thoughts.”
“I’m thinking about the questions you brought up earlier.” He glanced at her. “You’re quiet, too. What are you thinking about?”
“My dad, which led to me thinking about the lycans guarding him. I’m trying to wrap my mind around you enforcing this you-work-for-me-or-die rule. I can’t see it in you. Commander of military forces, yes. An employer, yes. Even an angel—no problem. But someone who forces people to do things against their will under threat of death? No.”
He exhaled audibly. Although his facial expression didn’t change, she sensed disquiet in him.
“Are they slaves?” She looked at him again. “Adrian?”
He’d paused with his hands in his duffel bag, frowning. “I’ve always used the word ‘indentured.’ ”
“That’s a form of servitude.”
“I don’t abuse them. I make every attempt to see to their comfort. I try, in all ways, to be fair to them.”
“But they can’t quit? Or leave?”
His chest lifted and fell on a deep breath. “No.”
“Yeah . . . I see a problem there.”
“But neither can the Sentinels. Or the vampires. We’re all trapped in our roles, which were established eons ago. This push and pull between us—it’s bigger than all of us. The brutal fact of the matter is, if the lycans don’t help me keep things together, there won’t be a world to be free in.”
Lindsay pushed her hair back from her forehead. “I understand what you’re saying. But I still don’t like it.”
“You think I do?”
“No, I don’t think you do. I don’t think you have it in you to like it, which is why I wonder how you’ve done it for so long.”
“I’m a soldier, Linds. I’m given orders and I follow them. It’s all I can do.”
There was something in the softness of his tone that made him seem so alone. As alone as she’d often felt over the years. She held her hand out to him. “I’d like for you to tell me what happened over the last week.”
He crossed the room to her. Not here, he mouthed, catching her fingers with his own. He pulled her up, then tugged her out onto the wraparound deck.
Stepping into his arms, she said, “Wait a minute before you take off.”
“Are you still scared?”
“Not right now, but I will be in a minute.” She smiled, knowing there was nowhere else she’d rather be than with Adrian. All the restlessness that had been vibrating within her for the last week—and most of her life before that—was gone, replaced by a languidness that came from more than great sex. It came from him alone. He centered her. “I just love the way your body feels against mine when you’re exerting yourself. And since this is pretty much the only guilt-free way to have you doing that, I want to make sure I enjoy every minute.”
His hands slid to her hips and urged her against him. “Anytime you want me to exert myself against you, just ask.”
Lindsay wrapped herself around him from shoulder to ankle. “You know I can’t do that.”
He looked down at her with eyes that were hot with desire and soft with affection. “Yes. I know, neshama. Ready?”
She nodded.
His wings snapped open and he leaped over the low railing. They caught air and soared over the darkened hills with the wind singing softly. In the near distance, the lights of the city twinkled like a blanket of multicolored stars.
The flight was over too quickly. Adrian landed a few miles away, directly in front of a metal-sided building that sat unlit on a barren plateau.
“Where are we?” she asked breathlessly, her heartbeat still wild from exhilaration.
“One of the training camps. If you like, you’ll be enduring it tomorrow.”
He opened the door and the fluorescent lights flickered on automatically, revealing a large warehouse-type room with a half dozen bunk beds, two sofas, and walls covered in every weapon she knew of as well as several she’d never seen. It was like a giant man-cave great room, homicidal-style.
“Why,” she queried, “do lycans and Sentinels, who have such awesome natural defense mechanisms, need any of these things?”
“Because the vamps use them. We need to know how to fend off attacks made with these weapons and to improvise, if
any of them should fall into our hands.”
Admiring a blade that looked somewhat like a scythe, Lindsay looked over her shoulder at him. “I’m worried about how the other Sentinels will deal with me training with them.”
Adrian stood nearby, watching her with heated pride. “Let me worry about them.”
“I don’t want to cause problems for you, Adrian. And that’s all I’m doing. I hate that.”
“I woke this morning praying for the end to come quickly. Now I have you, and the end is the last thing I want.”
Lindsay couldn’t stop the tear that ran down her cheek. She could be strong about a lot of things, but Adrian’s tenderness had been devastating her from the beginning. He made her feel as if she was precious to him. It killed her that he would try to give her all of himself, but she would still have only a portion. There was nothing she could do about that except offer him what comfort she could, and refrain from asking for anything in return. “Talk to me. Tell me why you were ready to give up.”
His wings flexed restlessly. The pearlescent backdrop showcased his dark beauty to breathtaking effect.
After her mother had died, she’d been so angry. She had railed at the entity other people believed in, the God others claimed was so generous and loving. She’d found little in life to redeem her lost faith in a benevolent higher power, but Adrian’s existence softened that skepticism. If the same being who’d allowed her mother to be brutally murdered was also responsible for creating Adrian, then there was something magical and praiseworthy in the world, even if none of it was ever shared willingly with her.
“The Sentinel I lost was a friend,” he said softly, inadvertently wounding her with his pain. “But more than that, she was a pristine example of what a seraph should be. She was pure of spirit and purpose, focused solely on our mission.”
She moved toward him, reaching for his hand and clasping it in her own. So much death. He’d dealt with too much of it. “Another vamp attack?”