“You’re rude,” she retorted, rubbing her palm down her skirt.
“And you’re not a damn tourist making dates with strangers when your life’s in danger.”
“Until that happens”—her eyes took on a feverish glitter—“which is unlikely, trapped in the most remote part of this back of the beyond, I need clothes.”
Dagan went dead still, her hiking energy bashing at his psyche like a furious gale force. Before she drew all the demons in the areas with her dangerous vibe, he grasped her hand and jogged for the thicket edging the foothills.
“What the hell, Dagan?” She tugged at her hand. “Stop hauling me about.”
Then he was running, forcing her to do the same because he couldn’t dematerialize them from the street with the damn human still watching. They finally rounded the last building two streets away and hit the dense copse surrounding the village. Bits of debris rose off the ground and whipped past him.
“You need to reel in that power. Now. Do it, Shae!”
She yanked free. “Go away.” She rubbed her face, panting hard. “I have to go buy clothes.”
He pushed his shades onto his head and grabbed her by her upper arms, but her molecules were already shifting, fading. His hand passed right through her body. Shit. “Shae, look at me!”
Those blank, storm-gray eyes stared right through him, her entire body shimmering between solid and intangible.
No! Fear took hold, his gut twisting. The heavens knew where she’d turn up when she took form again—probably right in the enemy’s lap.
In sheer desperation, he put his mouth on hers. It was like kissing a wisp of cotton then air. Godsdammit, she was his mate, she should feel something—some kind of connection to him, right?
C’mon, Shae, he begged, wanting her to kiss him back so he’d know she was still there.
A second passed, two…she began to take corporeal form and swayed into him. A tiny gasp escaped her, her body solid once more. A tentative touch of her tongue against his, and relief flowed. And then he lost what was left of his rational mind. So damn grateful he had her back, he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth.
Her lips moved against his, a soft moan escaping her and setting his senses alight. It was the most intense physical pleasure he’d ever experienced in his long life as she kissed him back. She tasted of warm female and the strawberry candy she’d eaten. Desire coiled through his body, and his erection kicked up uncomfortably behind his zipper. The rush of her blood in her veins a sweet lure… His fangs lengthened.
Fuuuuck! He leaped away, breathing hard, fighting to get himself under control. If he took her, it wouldn’t be just her body he’d want.
“Dagan?” At her soft, husky voice, he spun around, ready to tell her that this couldn’t ever occur again. She blinked and looked around her, rubbing her temples like she wanted to knead away a headache. “Where are we? We were at the store…”
She didn’t remember? Not even the kiss that had shaken him to the depths of his bloodstained soul? One he realized would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Breathing in deeply through his nose, the taste of her on his tongue, wishing he could will away the aching tightness in his chest, he picked up her fallen package—
A tourist. Another notch for my bedpost, the man’s thoughts seeped into Dagan’s mind. His fingers clenched on the pharmacy packet. He would kill the bastard first.
“Dagan?” Her wary gaze searched his face. “What happened?”
It took him a moment before he could speak. “Your powers made an appearance.”
Fear widened her eyes, chasing away the flush his kiss had brought to her beautiful face, leaving her pale once more.
“Oh, no.” Hurriedly, she glanced around then back at him. “Did I hurt you?”
So many words burned in his soul, demanding release. You’re my mate—my other half. Instead, he said, tone flat, “No. But we need to leave.”
“Wait-wait.”
His control hanging by a thread, he shook his head and drew her close. Trying not to breathe in her tempting scent, he dematerialized them.
Back in the monastery courtyard, he waited until she’d steadied herself before heading indoors.
“Dagan, wait.” Her booted steps echoed off the granite floors as she raced after him into the living room. “What about my clothes?”
“Make a list, I’ll see you get them.”
Shae planted herself in his path, her chest heaving from her short sprint, her gaze searching his. “What is going on with you?”
Sidestepping her, he entered the kitchen and dropped her package and his shades on the table. He retrieved a loose cigar from his pocket, desperate to get his urge under control. Lit the thing and dragged in a lungful of narcotic smoke, hoping it would eliminate her scent, the feel of her luscious mouth on his.
“You’ve been snarlier than a rabid dog since you barged into the kitchen earlier. Is it because I used the darn dagger to peel those potatoes?” Shae stomped across to him.
Aaand that thought got shot to hell. Biting off a curse, he blew a spiral of smoke away from her and dropped onto a chair near the wall.
She glared at him.
He wanted to pull her astride his lap and slide into her feminine warmth so it would take away the eons of emptiness. He breathed in her tantalizing fragrance, instead, and his body wound tighter than a fucking spring. The mating bond was a bitch when ignored. And kissing her had just made everything worse.
“Seriously, what’s going on with you?”
Dagan stretched out his long legs, caging her between them, and eyed her lazily.
She scowled, her expression morphing from irritation to pissed. “What?”
Since he wasn’t going to hide the truth about this, he nodded at the table piled with skins and unpeeled potatoes and the weapon there. “That’s my dagger.”
“So?” She stepped over his ankle and headed back to the half-cleaned vegetables then deliberately started paring another.
“So, it’s intrinsically linked to me…because it’s my mate’s dagger.”
She stiffened. Good, she knew what that meant. Just as fast, a short snort followed. “When you find her, I’ll hand it over, along with my condolences. Until then, you’re not getting it back. I need it for the kitchen. And it’s nice and sharp.”
For some reason, her comment amused him. But the threat tacked on wasn’t lost on him. She could probably stake him, too. He’d seen how swiftly she’d taken out those demons.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, a thin tendril of smoke trailing from the burning tip of his cigar. His gaze pinned hers. “I couldn’t take it from you even if I wanted to. It now belongs to you.”
Chapter 8
Shae froze, knife poised against the potato in her hand.
Damn his mind games. She glowered at Dagan as he killed his half-smoked cigar on his heel. “Lie all you want, you’re still not getting the blade back.”
But his words rattled inside her skull: It now belongs to you. When he continued to simply stare at her, uneasiness took hold. “You’re crazy.”
Mate? As if.
He rose to his feet, pushed his cigar into his pocket, and crossed to her. Removing the dagger from her hand, he tossed it onto the table, grasped her wrist, and hauled her along with him like she’d forgotten how to walk. “Damn it, Dagan,” she snapped, a little unsettled. “You could just ask instead of dragging me all over the place.”
“Would you have come?”
“No.”
“Then my way works.” He stopped in the middle of the lounge and faced her, those yellow eyes searing her like a flame. “Summon the dagger. Use your mind.”
“Why?”
“Because only my mate can do so.”
“You’re crazy. I’m not playing these games with you.” She headed for the kitchen. But recalling how the thing had appeared in her hand earlier, a chill slid through her.
“Scared?”
&
nbsp; At his softly uttered taunt, she spun back and met his challenging stare. “You’re making up this drivel to drive me mad.”
“Then let’s find out. Summon the dagger, Shae.”
Sheesh, he wasn’t going to let this go. Besides, with that soft order, she had no other recourse. Fine, she’d do it, if only to give the lie to his stupid allegations.
In her mind’s eye, she saw the weapon lying on the old, wooden table. Black. Harmless now. She willed it to her. The next instant, something cool took shape in her palm. Shae jumped back, the air vacating her lungs.
No. No way! This isn’t happening.
She inhaled harshly, whispered, “I drew rats to me, it’s the same thing.”
“They probably saw you as one big pile of delectable human cheese.”
Now he found his sense of humor? She cut him an annoyed glare. “Ha, ha—funny. We are not mates. I don’t even like you.”
For a second, his eyes blazed with an intense emotion. Then he shrugged like he didn’t really care what she thought of him, wiping away that illusion.
“Good. Then this should be easy to do. You’ll be fine as long as we don’t mate and soul-join. So, little hellcat, refrain from provoking me, because every time you open your mouth, all I think of is stripping you naked and licking you from lips to toes before fucking you into surrender. But I’m sure you don’t want the ties.”
Her eyes widened. The erotic images so vivid in her mind, she swore she could actually feel his tongue slowly licking a trail down her tummy to between her…she inhaled sharply. Her face on fire, she retorted, “You’re absolutely right, I don’t. But thanks for the heads-up.”
His lips took on a sardonic twist, like he knew something she didn’t, which just irritated her more. She scowled. He smiled, revealing the tips of his…fangs?
What the hell? “What-what are you?”
The smile faded. “You’re a clever girl, figure it out.”
He definitely wasn’t a demon. His irises didn’t have that hint of red like Harvey’s sometimes did…wait! The night outside The Tower, it hadn’t been her imagination; she did see the tinge of red in his eyes.
Her gaze flew to his mouth, but his lengthened incisors were no longer visible. She pressed her hand to her neck. “You’re a-a vamp…”
“…pire?” A dark eyebrow lifted. “If you want a tag, sure.”
“B-but you walk in sunlight?”
“Yeah, I’m remarkable that way.”
Ignoring his cynical retort, Shae glanced around, had no idea what she was looking for. Only knew deep down that she’d been prodding a really dangerous predator, one who could have torn her throat out in a heartbeat. She gulped.
“You’re afraid of me.”
Jesus, yes. But she never liked showing weakness. The thread of wariness dissipated like mist. “I’m not scared of you.”
Amusement lit his eyes as if he could see through her lie. Her gaze lowered back to his sensual mouth. Heck, she wanted to run her tongue along his lips, feel the tips of his fangs—ugh! This was entirely his fault for being so damn sexy that her mind kept sliding into the gutters.
Another image flowed into her mind. Intense yellow eyes locked with hers, a mouth on her neck, impossible desire heating her veins as he kissed…no…sucked her neck. And then she knew.
“You!” she sputtered. “You attacked me in the alley. You bit me and then took away my memories!” Furious, she hurled the dagger at him. His hand shot out and snatched the blade midair.
“I did not attack or bite you. If I had, trust me, you’d know. I had to get you to leave. It was a dangerous time. But you wouldn’t. It seemed the best way.”
That stopped her for a second. She’d been drawn to his pain and only wanted to help. But he hadn’t denied taking her memories. “Don’t ever do that again.”
He ran his thumb carelessly over the sharp edge of the dagger. “I won’t feed from you, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
Then he did consume blood. Jesus. Of course, he did. All her questions vanished. Something inside her shifted and made her belly churn. So who exactly?
“Then who?” the words were out before she could stop them.
His expression closed off. “That’s none of your business.”
Unexplained irritation swept through her at his dismissive answer.
It’s your fault. You told him you didn’t like him.
Yes, she’d said that—a slip of her tongue. Truth was, she did like him—hell, she’d been drawn to him from the moment she saw him in the club. His intensity and raw sexual magnetism wrapped around her like a silken web, tugging her closer and closer every time they were together.
Dagan strolled across to her, stopping only when a mere foot separated them. He smelled so good… sandalwood with a trace of cherry tobacco. His unreadable gaze drifted over her face and down to her collarbone. Frowning, he traced a fingertip gently over the scar running from her cheek to her neck.
“Your laptop accident?” he asked.
She nodded. Usually, the scar didn’t bother her, yet instinctively, she covered it with her hand, her bracelets jangling against each other.
“Don’t hide, Shae—” He grasped her wrist, then angled his head and studied the tattoo she had there. “What’s this?”
She pulled free and stepped back from his disturbing presence. “Decorative ink—a bunch of knots. Got it ‘cause it’s so pretty.”
At her tart response, his eyes narrowed, then he put the obsidian dagger in her palm and headed for the front door.
“Wait, where you are going?”
A hand on the doorjamb, he turned slightly. “To feed, of course. Unless you’re offering? But with that comes fucking. You ready for that, wildcat?”
Her mouth snapped shut.
“Thought not.” He walked out.
Shae stared at the empty doorway, his words ringing in her head, images crowding her mind of his mouth on her neck, his big body sliding over hers as his hardness moved inside her. Desire swept through her in a heat wave. God, she rubbed her face.
Restless, she wandered the length of the cracked corridor and back again. Blowing out a frustrated breath, she stopped at the coffee table and lowered on her knees to the cold floor. She collected the spilled cards and shuffled them, but her lone game of solitaire didn’t take away the churning in her stomach.
He was going to feed, have sex with some nameless, faceless woman.
Dagan rematerialized in the village as dusk crept into the area. If he remained with Shae, chances were high that he’d end up taking her right where she stood.
His crude words had put distaste on her face. Better he showed her what a barbarian he was, then maybe she would stay away from him, because his resistance had all the strength of fraying cotton. If their paths hadn’t crossed, he could have lived his empty existence.
The warriors all lived dangerous lives. Why the hell would Gaia do this to them?
When he’d first taken his oath to become a Guardian, she’d offered him an array of daggers.
Dagan had thought nothing of it, just picked one, and it had glowed. Hell, he’d been too steeped in a blood haze to care why. But a part of her words stayed with him: Your dagger is the embodiment of your one weakness…and something else, he couldn’t recall.
Now he knew. His weakness would be his downfall.
And Shae is.
Damn, he scrubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw in frustration then texted Hedori. Send Shae’s things over.
A response came back instantly. On it.
Dagan made his way into Club Samhain and dropped onto a barstool in the slowly filling bar. The bartender nodded and handed him his usual drink. Humans packed the place. Soon, the sounds of their heartbeats, the tempting rush of their blood flowing through their veins crowded his ears.
He drank deeply of his red wine, barely tasting the rich vintage, trying to shut off the sounds. His mind drifted back to his time in Tartarus.
One minute,
he’d been fighting off vampiric vultures; the next, a whirlwind of impossible power had sucked him up and tossed him out into darkness—into this world, in the forest of the Tatra Mountains in Eastern Europe…and the horror that followed. Michael had finally found him after another bloody rampage, lying amidst the dead bodies and carnage…
“We will find a way out of this.” A dark-haired male—no, an angel—squatted beside him, his shattered irises glowing an eerie silvery blue.
“No,” Dagan rasped, his voice rusty from lack of use. “End this—end me. I cannot live like this.”
With a wave of his hand, the angel incinerated the bodies instead. Then he went motionless, eyes narrowing. “Trouble.”
The coppery scent of sweet nectar drifted to Dagan. The thirst, which never eased, stirred viciously again. His guilt forgotten, his fangs descended. He leaped up and took off like an arrow. The angel thundered after him.
Dagan faltered to a halt near a settlement, and froze at the massacre taking place.
Hysterical screams drenched the night air, along with guttural laughter. Human bodies were strewn on the blood-splattered ground. Except, he wasn’t responsible this time. Demoniis.
The angel dove into the melee. It barely registered that a few males in tattered clothes were already fighting evil. A demonii spun around, his eyes glowing like neon red orbs in the dark. “More food—immortal, too.”
He grabbed Dagan, his blood-soaked mouth snapping open and revealing an orifice of stained teeth and fangs. Dagan punched the evil in the face and clamped his mouth onto the demonii’s neck, his canines tearing through flesh and sinew. He gulped the thick plasma spilling free, and drank and drank. When the demonii stopped fighting and disintegrated into dust, he went after another...
His bloated stomach roiled. Bile rushed up his throat. Dagan stumbled through the forest, collapsing near a running stream. On his knees, he regurgitated all he’d drunk. Black blood.
He lowered his head to the flowing river and gulped water like an animal.
Vaguely, he recalled, demoniis were essentially dead, living off stolen human souls and blood. Then everything stilled, even the very air.
Guardian Unraveled Page 10
