by Nina Croft
He straightened, then leaned down and picked her up easily, held her cradled against his chest. “Now, I take you to safety.”
Phoebe fought down the urge to struggle. She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay close to Caden Wolfe. It was crazy, but with each step that took her away from him, the need to call out built up inside her.
She must have banged her head harder than she’d thought. Swallowing the words, she closed her eyes against the fires that burnt all around her.
Chapter Three
Day One
“You are not taking me off this story.” Phoebe slammed the glass door and stomped into the office.
Patrick, her boss, glanced up and winced. “Great to have you back, Phoebe. How are you feeling?”
Phoebe’s hand went automatically to the back of her head, and she rubbed absently at the raised ridge of scar tissue. “Don’t try and change the subject.”
He stood up and came around the desk to stand in front of her, his gaze running over her. Straightening her spine, she scowled at his chest. She hated tall men. And Patrick knew it. Even when she wore three-inch heels, like now, he towered over her.
“Why would you think I’m taking you off the story?”
She pursed her lips. “You mean you’re not? You’re not going to tell me it’s too dangerous?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm.” That was way too easy.
“You’re not going back to Afghanistan, though.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, ran his fingers through the hair at the back of her head, and whistled softly. “Nice scar.”
Phoebe shrugged out of his hold and moved to face him once more. “It’s nothing.”
“I know you think you’re indestructible, but you could have died out there. Ten people were killed in that attack. I still don’t know how you escaped virtually unharmed.”
A shudder ran through her. “Neither do I.” She forced herself to remember that day. She’d been so sure she was going to die. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture what had happened, but all she saw was his face. Dark blue eyes, the narrow blade of a nose, sharp cheekbones, to-die-for mouth.
There was something important she was forgetting.
Something about him.
“What are you thinking?”
Her eyes flashed open, and she took a step back so she could look him in the face. “Why?”
He was studying her, his head tilted to one side, and she barely prevented herself from squirming under the intense look. “Your face went all soft.”
“No it didn’t.” Of course it hadn’t. Had it? Time to change the subject. “So, the story…”
Patrick picked up a paper from his desk and handed it to her. It appeared to be a printout of an email received that morning. As she read the words, the excitement mounted inside her.
“Stormlord Securities is giving me an interview? They never give interviews.”
The email was signed by Torrin Stormlord, the elusive owner of Stormlord Securities, but the interview was with the company CEO, Caden Wolfe, and it was today.
“Nope, I checked. They’ve never given an interview. Not a single one. So why now? And why you?”
“I don’t know.”
“He was there, wasn’t he? Maybe he thought you were cute.”
She narrowed her eyes. She was quite aware Patrick had only made the comment to irritate her, but equally aware that he had succeeded. “I was wearing local gear, scarf over my head and everything—I mean everything—was covered from head to toe. Believe me—I was not cute. But I think he saved my life. Maybe that’s why.”
“What? You never mentioned that before.”
“I don’t really remember much, but he was standing right in front of me when the attack happened. He must have pushed me, or rather, hurled me out of the way. Otherwise I would have been right in the middle of it.”
She hadn’t felt like herself since, though she wasn’t admitting that to anyone. She put it down to the blow to the head and tried to ignore the amount of times Caden Wolfe invaded her mind. Now she was going to see him again.
She still had every intention of exposing him and his company. No company legitimately got that many government contracts. They had to be paying kickbacks. She needed to find out how and who to. While she desperately wanted to write this story, she needed some hard evidence and so far, she hadn’t got it. This would give her the opportunity to get Caden Wolfe off guard, and maybe he’d let something slip.
She had copious notes—she’d better start going through them, work out her questions.
“And Phoebe—”
“Yes?”
“Don’t piss the guy off.”
“I won’t—” She grinned. “Well, I probably will, but not today. I’ll be good, I promise.”
She turned away, eager to get started. Pausing at the door, she glanced back at Patrick. “Would you have taken me off the story if it wasn’t for this?” She waved the paper in the air.
“Yup.”
***
Cade paced the floor of the office. He came to a halt by the tall windows, shoved his hands in his pockets, and stared down at the city of London far below.
Nearly two weeks since he’d found her. He needed to act, but terror battled with the impatience inside him.
Once they met again, he would only have five days.
Right now, there was still a chance, and just to know that she was here in this world filled him with a wild sense of exhilaration.
“You know Lilith will be looking for her?”
The question came from behind, and Cade swung around. Torrin lounged in the huge leather chair, feet resting on the desk in front of him. His black hair fell loose around his shoulders, framing a long face with pale skin. A scar ran down from his right eyebrow across his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth, pulling his lip into a perpetual half-smile rarely reflected in those sleepy golden eyes.
A scar from an angel’s sword—mortal weapons would not mark them.
He appeared relaxed, but Cade knew his friend too well and could sense the tension, the barely suppressed excitement behind the impassive façade.
“Lilith has spies everywhere,” Torr continued. “It won’t take her long to hunt your Eleni down. I know you’ve got people watching her, but you need to move.”
He didn’t need Torr to point that out. He was quite aware that while Lilith had given the impression she was bestowing a favor by letting Phoebe go, in reality she’d had no choice. Within the rules of the Covenant, he had a right to save Phoebe should her life be in peril. He shouldn’t have shown himself, but there had been no other way.
Lilith would not be so lenient should Phoebe come within her grasp a second time. While his queen cared nothing for Caden personally, if Phoebe returned to him, then Lilith would lose his allegiance, and Lilith hated to lose anything she considered hers.
He pressed his eyelids. “Christ, how the hell do I keep her safe from Lilith when I can’t tell her the truth?”
They had vowed allegiance to Lilith when there had been nothing left in the world but vengeance. At the time, it had seemed a good deal; Lilith bestowed on them her dark powers in exchange for their loyalty, and Torr at her side and eventually in her bed.
Those first years had passed in a fog of red hot rage. They’d had their revenge many times over, sated themselves on the blood of their enemies. Torr had become the Destroyer, a wild thing, a force of nature. And they had followed him, the Storm Lords of destruction.
For a thousand years, they had wreaked havoc on the world, so powerful that even the angels came to fear them.
Until one day, when Gabriel had appeared.
He’d revealed that their wives were not dead and lost to them forever, as they had believed, but instead were caught in a perpetual cycle of death and rebirth, tied to the earth by the elixir they had taken.
Cade and his brothers had been offered a chance to make good the harm they had done to mankind, to bec
ome a force for good.
But a vow of allegiance could not be put aside lightly, and Lilith had the power to draw them to her.
She wanted Torr back. But in her way, she loved him, and she didn’t want his hatred. And so the covenant had been drawn up, between the Storm Lords, Gabriel, and Lilith, who had fought for every point.
One thousand years of freedom, they’d been granted—if they found their wives in that time, Lilith would release them from their vow. But their wives must see them, know them, love them without being told anything of the past.
They had five days, and if they failed, their wives would die, and this time they would not be reborn.
And so they had clawed their way out of the darkness, fled the Abyss in search of redemption and the women they loved. But their thousand years was nearly up. One of their brothers had found his wife two years ago. He had failed and she’d died and was lost forever. Now Bryce was a hollow shell who fought the darkness every day. Cade shuddered as he considered the same happening to him.
Would he survive? Would he even want to?
“Well?” Torr prompted, dragging him from his thoughts.
“I plan to go to her.”
“That’s not good enough.”
Anger flared inside him. He straightened, and his fists balled at his side, grinding his teeth as he thought of an answer. The problem was, Torr was right. He had to go see her, somehow make her fall in love with him all over again.
But what if he failed?
“You won’t fail,” Torr said as though he had heard the question, but then he might well have. “She fell in love with you before. She’s been loved by an angel—that will leave a mark on her soul. She will remember.”
Cade let out a short, bitter laugh. “Loved by an angel? But what am I now? No angel, that’s for sure. A drinker of blood, a demon from the Abyss—and our dark deeds are forever written on our souls. Will she look into my eyes and see what I have done? How can she love what I have become?”
“She’ll see beyond that.”
Cade shook his head. “You hope, but do you really believe?”
Torr ran a hand through his hair then closed his eyes briefly. “I have to. At least you’ve found her.” The bitterness was clear in his tone, his normally impassive eyes filled with emotion. Cade turned away, not wanting to see his friend’s pain.
“Anyway,” Torr said, “I’ve taken it out of your hands.”
Cade swung around at the words. “You’ve what?”
“Ms. Phoebe Little has been granted an exclusive interview with the CEO of Stormlord Securities—she’s in the building and on her way up now.”
Like bubbling lava, the rage rose up inside him. A growl vibrated through his body, and a red haze swam before his eyes.
She was here, in the building. In a few minutes, he would see her. He remembered the feel of her in his arms, the softness of her, the taste of her sweet blood. Heat coiled to life low down in his belly, and adrenalin surged through his system.
She was his. She would realize that. She had to realize that.
Torr rose to his feet and came round the desk. Placing his hands on Cade’s shoulders, he stared into his eyes. “Do this, Cade. Prove to us that the last thousand years haven’t been in vain.”
Cade nodded, his mind already turning on ways to protect her. He had an idea. She was a reporter; she wanted a story, so he would offer her a story. With strings attached. Strings that would tie her firmly to him. At least for the next five days. After that…
“And Cade—” As he opened the door, Torr spoke again. “I got her here—you keep her here. Try not to come on too strong or you’ll terrify her.”
“I’m cool.”
He was lying—in fact, he was burning up.
***
It was only an interview.
She’d interviewed hundreds of people in her years as a reporter. She’d interviewed soldiers, dictators, politicians.
One corrupt businessman should be easy. So why were her palms sweating? And why were her knuckles showing white where they clutched the straps of her bag? She unpeeled her fingers and took a deep breath.
Be cool.
Which was a great idea. In theory.
Thinking about it, coming here alone might not have been the best plan. She could have brought a photographer along. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Was it too late? She could go back to the office, pick up a photographer, maybe pop home first and get changed into something more…
At that moment, the elevator came to a standstill, and the doors slid open.
She was being an idiot. Just do the interview and get out of there, then she could write the story and forget all about Caden Wolfe. Except she had an idea that wasn’t going to happen easily. After all, it was hard to forget someone you dreamed about every night. She closed her eyes and saw those sexy, midnight-blue eyes fixed on her as though they were staring into her very soul.
Her cell phone rang, dragging her out of her daydream.
She pulled it from her bag and looked at the caller ID.
Her father. Guilt gnawed at her; she hadn’t seen him since her return from Afghanistan. But she couldn’t cope right now—she’d have to call him after the interview. Switching off the phone, she shoved it back in her bag.
The elevator led into a large reception area with a desk in the center and a pair of oak doors at the far end.
The desk was empty.
Her pulse picked up as she crossed the thickly carpeted floor, until she could hear the rapid thud of her own heart.
She rapped on the wood.
“Come in.”
Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door.
The office was situated at the corner of the building and two outer walls were made entirely of glass. Caden Wolfe stood with his back to her, staring out through the floor-to-ceiling windows; hands shoved in his pants pockets.
He wore a charcoal-gray suit, his usually immaculate hair ruffled.
As the door clicked shut behind her, he swung around and stood silent, his eyes feasting on her. As his gaze met hers, a wave of heat washed over her. His eyes filled with a carnal hunger, inhuman in its ferocity. She swayed toward him and had to put out a hand to steady herself.
Then the hungry look was wiped from his face, leaving his expression blank.
His photos didn’t do him justice; in the flesh, he was magnificent, his long lean figure shown off beautifully in the dark business suit.
She finally reached his face and found him watching her, but still she couldn’t look away. He reminded her of some dissipated angel—perfectly sculpted cheekbones, wicked blue eyes, thick lashes, passionate mouth.
Looking at him, something stirred in her mind.
Something she needed to remember.
“Are you okay?” The deep, cultured tone of his voice was like crushed velvet caressing her ears. A shiver ran through her.
He raised one arched brow, and she shook her head to clear the intruding thoughts running through her mind. “Sorry. What did you say?”
As he strode toward her, she had to fight the urge to give way before him. Then he stopped a foot away, and now her contrary mind screamed to close the distance between them.
He inspected her, his head cocked to one side. “I know you were injured recently. I was just asking if you were okay. You looked…unwell.”
Had he hesitated before that word? Could he see into her mind? She hoped not. “No, I’m fine.”
“Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, tea, champagne…”
“Perhaps we should just get on with the interview.”
“There’s something I’d like to talk to you about first.”
She frowned. “It’s quite simple. I ask you questions. You answer.”
“Actually, I have a…proposition for you.”
“You do?”
At her tone, a slight smile curved his lips. “I do. And we might as well be comfortable while I put it to you.”
; Without waiting for her to answer, he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the seat beside him. As he reached up and loosened the maroon tie, she stared, fascinated at the triangle of pale skin revealed below the strong column of his throat.
The air seemed to be sucked from the room, and she swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Then she bit down on her lip hard, the pain bringing her back to herself.
Did he know what he was doing? With his looks and money, he must be used to women drooling all over him. He could hardly be unaware of it. Though strangely, while she had an extensive file on him, there was very little information about his private life.
She cleared her throat. “So, this proposition…?”
“Why don’t we sit down?” he said, gesturing to the cream leather sofa behind him. She looked at it dubiously but followed him. After sinking onto the leather, he patted the cushion beside him. Phoebe took a seat in the far corner, perched on the edge, and looked at him with what she hoped was an expectant expression.
What proposition could he possibly have? Was he aware she was out to expose him and his company?
“First, let me say, I’ve read your work and I’m quite aware of the stories you usually write. You don’t like big organizations. Hardly surprising considering what happened to your father.”
She started, shocked at his words. Her father had worked for a large multinational corporation. He had been injured in an incident at work when Phoebe was ten. He’d never recovered fully, and he had never received any compensation. It had devastated her family. But how the hell did Caden Wolfe know that? “Have you had me investigated?” she asked.
“Of course.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up one beautifully manicured hand and she closed it again.
“I’m presuming it’s going to do me no good to tell you that Stormlord Securities has never been involved in any illegal or underhand practices.”
Did he think she was a naïve idiot? She didn’t bother to answer. “The proposition?”
He relaxed in his seat, long legs stretched out, arms resting along the back of the sofa, regarding her out of half-closed eyes. “I want you to spend the next five days here, with me.”