“Do you intend to kill me, too?”
His menacing purr set her teeth on edge. She straightened. “If I have to.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“More info.” She deliberately flipped her small blade up and down through her fingers, trying to regain her center of balance by engaging in a familiar activity. She wasn’t going to tell him about the wind and the way it spoke to her. For all she knew, it could be a major weakness he’d know how to exploit. “You’re . . . different. Not like the others.”
“What, exactly, constitutes an ‘other’?”
“Vampires.”
“Vampires,” he repeated.
“Yes. Sharp teeth, claws, bloodsuckers. Evil.”
“How long have you been killing vampires?”
“Ten years.”
A long stretch of silence. “Why?”
“Enough questions,” she shot back. “What are you?”
“I can hear your heart racing,” he taunted softly. “You’re smart to be wary. You don’t know what I am or what I can do. And you’ve lost the element of surprise. Now I know what you’re capable of.”
Lindsay smiled without humor, rising to the challenge. He was in a volatile mood, and it whipped against her senses like the lash of tropical rain. “You have no idea what I’m capable of. You haven’t seen anything yet.” Leaning toward him, she repeated, “What. Are. You?”
He turned his attention ahead. “When we get to the house, I’ll show you.”
Lindsay stared at him and played loosely with her knife. He’d gotten the drop on her moments earlier, taking her completely unawares, and even that wasn’t enough to put her on full alert. He disarmed her in every way, despite knowing how dangerous he was.
Whatever else she discovered about Adrian Mitchell, it was irrefutable that he beguiled. And that was more hazardous to her than any claws, fangs, or scales he might reveal. A damned sight scarier, too.
She focused on his magnificent profile. Even after receiving the entirety of his attention for the last few hours, she was still arrested by the strength of his jawline and the aristocratic line of his nose. And she loved the shape of his lips, which were so beautifully etched they were a work of art in their own right . . .
Mental images of that seductive mouth brushing across her skin, whispering heated, erotic words and curving in full smiles seized her heart in a fist. In her mind’s eye there was an entire repertoire of intimate, shadowy images that were so moving they were almost like memories. Arousal swept over her skin, tightening her nipples and spurring a slow, hot trickle between her legs.
Tearing her gaze away, she looked out the window and fought to regulate her erratic breathing. Fuck. What was wrong with her? She was a mess. A quivering, pissed off, turned on, jittery mess.
The distance between the sprawling hillside properties was widening the higher they climbed. Soon the infrequent streetlights disappeared, the evening sky swallowing them whole except for the narrow swathe of the headlights. She reminded herself that Adrian was a known personage and her father knew where she was, but those safeguards didn’t calm the part of her mind screaming, He’s not human.
The car slowed when they reached a wrought-iron gate bisecting the road, cutting off further public access. She surveyed their immediate surroundings, her gaze pausing on a rough-edged granite slab on the shoulder that was sandblasted with the words ANGELS’ POINT. A frisson of unease slid down Lindsay’s spine.
A burly guard stepped out of a gatehouse. He looked at Adrian’s driver—Elijah—and nodded, then retreated back inside to open the gate. The Maybach drove another half mile or so before the house came into view. As dark as the night was this high above the light pollution of the city, Lindsay had no trouble seeing the home. It was drenched in floodlights to the extent that the evening was lit like daylight. It would be impossible for anyone to approach the house from any side or from above without being seen.
The residence scaled the side of the cliff in three tiers, each with its own wide wraparound deck. Distressed wood siding, rock terraces, and exposed wooden beams made the house seem almost as if it was part of the hillside. She knew nothing about architecture, but Angels’ Point screamed affluence—as everything about Adrian did.
The car rolled to a stop, and her door was opened by yet another guard. Lindsay was about to step out when Adrian appeared before her with his hand extended. She couldn’t help but notice his speed, which he apparently felt he no longer needed to hide, but she made no comment. She appreciated him dropping the pretense of being human, but she wasn’t going to praise him for it.
Her feet crunched atop the gravel driveway. She was attempting to absorb the grandeur of the house when movement in the periphery of her vision turned her head. A huge wolf prowled by.
Gasping in surprise and instinctive trepidation, Lindsay flattened herself against the side of the car. Adrian caught her by the elbows, the shield of his body filling her with indefinable comfort and relief. The beast sniffed a tire, then lifted its majestic head and studied her with undeniable intelligence. Her startled senses kicked into overdrive, prepping her body for defending herself.
“You won’t need that,” Adrian murmured, making her realize the readiness with which she held her knife.
Elijah rounded the hood of the car. A low growl rumbled from his chest as he stared at the wolf. The beast stepped back, lowering its gaze.
More wolves appeared. An entire pack, or perhaps two. Lindsay didn’t know how many wolves made up a pack, but there were at least a dozen of the multicolored beasts padding around the driveway. Their size was imposing. Each one looked as if it ate an entire cow every day.
Lightning streaked across the sky, perfectly mimicking the electrical charge around Adrian.
Jesus. She exhaled in a rush.
The otherworldliness of both the place and the man beside her made her shiver. The wind caressed her, ruffling her hair but carrying neither a warning nor reassurance. She was on her own and feeling like she’d fallen down the rabbit hole—confused, fascinated, stoned.
Adrian gestured toward the house. “Come inside.”
She followed his lead. They entered through a double-door entrance, crossing over a slate foyer to reach a massive sunken living room. An enormous fireplace dominated one wall; Lindsay was fairly certain her Prius would easily fit inside it.
“Do you like it?” he asked, releasing her and watching her carefully, as if her opinion mattered.
The interior of Adrian’s home was a thoroughly masculine space, decorated in shades of brown and taupe, with splashes of a burnt red that reminded her of rust. Renewable green materials had been liberally used—carved woods, thick cotton linens, dried grasses. Directly opposite the front door was a wall of windows overlooking the smaller hills and valleys below. In the distance, city lights twinkled with multihued fire, but the metropolis seemed worlds away from this transcendent place. To call the residence amazing would be an understatement. It suited Adrian so well. For all his urbanity, she sensed an earthy connection to nature in him.
She kept her bag close to her side and faced him. “What’s not to like?”
“Good.” He gave a regal nod. “You’ll be staying here indefinitely.”
His imperiousness was stunning. “Excuse me?”
“I need to keep you where I know you’ll be safe.”
I need to keep you . . . As if he had the right. “Maybe I don’t want to be kept.”
“You should have considered that before you killed a dragon in a public place.”
“You’re the one who gave me away. Or your bodyguards did. If I hadn’t been with you, he never would have paid any attention to me. So if I’m a target, it’s your fault.”
“Regardless of who’s to blame,” he said calmly, “Elijah noticed you were being followed. There was a brief span of time while you were in the restroom when Sam’s whereabouts are unaccounted for. It’s possible he notified someone that he saw you with us. If he did, his disappearance will raise suspicions and we’ll be the first place to start looking for him.”
She frowned. “Why would a chick hanging out with you interest him or anyone else? You’re rich and hot as hell. I’m sure you’re seen with women all the time. Are you talking about him calling the paparazzi? Or more dragon dudes?”
Adrian gestured down the hallway with a graceful extension of his arm. “Let me show you to your room. You can freshen up; then we’ll talk.”
“You’ll talk,” Lindsay corrected. “I’ll listen.”
His hand came to rest at the small of her back and she felt the power thrumming through him—tremendous energy restrained by a cyclonic force of will that awed her.
He was something different in this place. The power she’d felt in him from the beginning was sharper, more refined. Or perhaps it was just more apparent. Perhaps he made it so deliberately. Either way, the agitation he’d exuded in the Maybach was tightly leashed now. Why would he betray that disquiet to her, a stranger, but restrain it in his own home, where he should feel the most comfortable?
She looked around and realized they weren’t alone. There were others with them: more muscular guys as well as some who were elegantly built like Adrian. A few women, too—all were stunning enough to rouse feelings of jealousy and possessiveness. All together, there were a dozen spectators hanging around the fringes of the room, sizing her up with examining and somewhat hostile glances.
She pushed her hand into her messenger bag and wrapped her fist around the hilt of a second blade. She was outnumbered by a huge margin and, as a human, definitely underpowered. Her pulse raced with foreboding.
“Lindsay—” Adrian’s hand encircled her other wrist and instantly her heartbeat slowed, calm radiating outward from the place where he touched her. “You don’t need those. This is the safest place on earth for you. No one will harm you here.”
“I would make it as difficult as possible,” she promised, speaking to the room at large. A possibly empty threat, considering she had no idea what the hell she was dealing with.
“Be careful. You’re mortal. Fragile.”
She shot him an arch glance. She could hold her own against any other “mortals,” even men triple her size. For Adrian to call her “fragile” reaffirmed her belief that, whatever he was, he was powerful in a way she hadn’t known existed. “We still haven’t established what you are.”
He exhaled, relenting. “You spoke of vampires. What other creatures do you know of?”
“Dragons. Thanks to you.”
He released her and stepped back. “If there were angels, would they be the good guys or the bad?”
Lindsay’s mind spun. Angels had a biblical connotation, and she’d turned her back on religion long ago. She’d had to. She got too pissed off thinking about anyone having the ability to prevent her mother’s death, yet doing nothing.
She forced her tense shoulders to relax. “Depends on whether or not they were actively killing the vampires and dragons.”
Sleek tendrils of smoke drifted up from behind him. The mist spread outward, taking on the shape and substance of wings—pure, pristinely white wings touched with crimson tips, as if he’d trailed the edges through freshly spilled blood.
Lindsay stumbled backward, barely catching herself with a hand against the wall. The purity of his true form threatened to blind her. Power emanated from him with a warm radiance that was tangible; she felt as if she was basking in the noonday sun.
Tears stung her eyes and her knees weakened. The hallway spun with a terrible sense of déjà vu, millisecond flashes of Adrian with wings. Different clothes . . . altered hair length . . . various backdrops . . .
For a moment, she feared she would pass out. And then it all coalesced into one thought: an angel.
Shit. She was so far removed from piety, the concept existed in a totally different universe. Even now—presented with his wings and glorious golden glow—what she felt was less about reverence and more about primitive, sinful lust. If anything, she’d grown more enamored with Adrian as his wings unfurled, because seeing him without his facade exposed him as openly as she’d exposed herself in the store.
She’d been peculiar all her life. Faster, stronger, capable of sensing minute changes in the wind that told her when something wrong was nearby. As a child, she’d often felt like a mutant, always having to be conscious of how quickly she moved. The last decade had been spent trying to be “normal” while hunting dangerous things to kill. She’d given up hope of having a serious romantic relationship. The need to hide an integral part of herself had left her utterly alone in the most fundamental of ways.
Now she faced someone who knew she was different. Someone who just might accept her being that way because he was different, too. She’d been unable to confide in anyone about the underworld she knew existed. But Adrian knew . . .
“You were going to let that dragon walk away!” she accused, shielding her sudden vulnerability behind anger. Just by knowing that she hunted, Adrian knew her—in a deeply intimate way that no one else did. He was suddenly precious to her for that reason, this ethereal being of impossible beauty.
“Your safety was my primary concern.”
“I can take care of myself. You should have taken care of him.”
“I only hunt vampires,” he said smoothly. “And as I said, he was a dragon.”
The front door opened and her gaze flew to it. Elijah walked in, carrying the groceries. He paused on the threshold, his handsome face impassive as he took in the tense scene before him. A lock of his thick brown hair slashed across his brow, framing eyes like emeralds. Although she hadn’t seen him smile even once, she didn’t get an unfriendly vibe from him. He just seemed watchful and sharply curious. Definitely smart. He was canny, she bet, and hard to catch unawares.
