Soul Chase (Dark Souls)

by Anne Hope

  “Do you think he was telling the truth?” Eddie asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  The door behind them swung open, and Emma joined them on the porch, her wary gaze trained on Eddie. She halted, her posture stiffening.

  Adrian took in the welcome sight of her. He still couldn’t believe she was here, healthy and alive, a part of his world again. “Eddie, I’d like you to meet Emma.”

  Emma backed away from the massive guy standing on the porch beside Adrian. He looked like he could snap her neck with nothing more than a flick of his pinky. But that wasn’t what set off all her alarm bells. What unsettled her most was that, like Adrian, he had no soul.

  The newcomer smiled when he saw her, taking a step forward and extending his arm, but Emma raised her hand in warning. “Stay back.” She silently chastised herself for leaving the switchblade in her bag upstairs. A weapon would’ve come in handy right now.

  The man looked surprised and a touch disappointed, as though he expected her to greet him with a friendly hug.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “It’s me. Eddie.”

  Adrian elbowed the giant in the ribs in unspoken warning.

  Emma frowned. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

  The guy grew flustered. “’Course not. That’s just how I like to introduce myself.” He chuckled nervously. “It’s me. Eddie,” he repeated, and she nearly smiled at his self-deprecating manner. “Chief of police by day and Rogue by night. Actually, it’s the other way around ’cause I usually work the night shift.” He cleared his throat nervously. “Nice to meet you, Emma.” He didn’t attempt to shake her hand this time.

  Emma scanned the assembly of townhouses flanking Adrian’s, and the truth dawned on her. She knew exactly what kind of creatures inhabited these seemingly innocuous homes.

  “How many of you are there?” Her fingers clenched around an invisible blade, an instinct bred into her since childhood.

  Eddie directed a questioning look Adrian’s way.

  “She sees what we are,” Adrian explained.

  Eddie looked impressed as his chocolate-brown gaze cut to hers again. “In this community, thirteen,” he told her. “In the world, I couldn’t tell you.”

  Emma snickered. “Lucky number thirteen. Figures.” She walked past the two men and descended the steps, stopping only when she reached the gravel walkway. “And are they all as civilized as you two?”

  “You bet they are.” Eddie’s voice drifted over her shoulder, resonating with pride. “Thanks to a very special lady. She convinced this hardheaded oaf to take us in and reform us.”

  Something inside Emma squeezed at the mention of a woman. Of course, Adrian would have someone in his life. A man couldn’t look the way he did and be single, even among the soulless. “Is she a Hybrid, too?”

  Eddie turned to Adrian for guidance, and the atmosphere grew ripe with tension. She raised her gaze to Adrian, whose features had hardened to stone. “No,” he said, his voice tight and gruff. “She was human.”

  Was. She parted her lips to ask what had become of the woman, but the shuttered expression on Adrian’s face silenced her. So she continued to examine her surroundings instead, canvassing the area in case the inhabitants of this development weren’t as reformed as Eddie claimed.

  If life had taught her anything, it was to always have an escape plan.

  Not that she intended to stay long enough to meet the neighbors. Now that the imminent threat of attack had passed, she had to get back to the city, where her mother most likely waited for her. “Could either one of you give me a ride to the nearest bus station? I need to get back to Phoenix.”

  Adrian and Eddie exchanged worrisome glances. Something told her they had no intention of letting her go.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Adrian said, confirming her fears.

  Dread rolled down her spine, and any illusion of safety she may have entertained evaporated like the predawn mist. “You can’t keep me here against my will.” But even as she said the words, she knew she was lying to herself. He could do whatever the hell he wanted. He was bigger and stronger and had a dozen accomplices at his disposal.

  Adrian descended the steps, but she backed away from him. The flash of pain she caught in his eyes made guilt pool in her gut, and she cursed her reaction to him.

  She was the injured party, damn it, not him.

  “It’s not safe for you in Phoenix,” he said, “or anywhere else for that matter. The Kleptopsychs are looking for you, and they won’t quit till they find you. This ranch is your best bet.”

  It was tempting to take him up on his offer. If he was telling her the truth and these Hybrids really were the good guys, she could use a couple of them in her corner. “My mother is looking for me. I need to find her.”

  The two men swapped conspiratorial looks again, and Emma bristled. “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

  Adrian met her gaze, held it. Sympathy formed deep grooves around his mouth, and the dread building within her reached a fevered peak. “You won’t find your mother in Phoenix.” He raised his hand as if to comfort her, then thought better of it, letting it drop to his side. “She was abducted last night. By the Kleptopsychs.”

  Chapter Six

  Emma paced across the living room, her shoulders stiff, her hands curled into fists. Since she’d learned of her mother’s abduction, she hadn’t stood still for more than a second at a time.

  Adrian walked up behind her, a steaming mug of coffee clasped between his fingers. The need to comfort her lurched within him, but he ignored it, handing her the mug instead. “Would you like something to eat?”

  She shook her head, sending a riot of dark curls fluttering around her face. “I can’t.” She placed her fist on her abdomen, hinting at the tension coiling there. “Not when I know those creatures have my mom.” She gazed into the mug but didn’t bother to take a sip. “I keep asking myself if it would’ve been better if they’d killed her.”

  It probably would have. He’d seen what the Kleptopsychs did to humans, the way they broke them, murdered their spirits, and left nothing but an empty shell behind. But he couldn’t tell her that.

  “What do they want with her?” Her gaze briefly connected with his.

  “To find you,” he answered honestly. “That’s why you can’t go to any of the locations your mother would expect you to go.”

  “She’d never give me up.” Her tone was coated with steel. “Never.”

  “She won’t have a choice. The Kleptopsychs can get inside people’s heads. They see their thoughts, can will a soul to do anything they damn well please.”

  Doubt flickered across her features. She knew he spoke the truth, had probably witnessed it herself. “My mother is strong.”

  “Everyone breaks eventually. It’s just a matter of time.” He didn’t mean to be insensitive, but he needed her to realize how dangerous the situation was. The last thing he wanted was for her to go nosediving into trouble the way he knew she could.

  Fire flashed in her multi-flecked eyes. Like Angie’s, Emma’s irises were a blend of gray, green and gold, a color that was as arresting as it was unusual. “Then I have to find her. Before it’s too late.”

  “That’s not possible.” How could he put it in terms she could understand? “It would be the equivalent of breaking into a secret military base and fighting an army of genetically altered soldiers with nothing more than that little switchblade of yours.”

  She refused to listen to reason. “I can’t just sit around and do nothing.”

  “If you go after your mother, you’ll be playing right into their hands.” There was no doubt in Adrian’s mind that the Kleptopsychs wanted Emma to find them. They were probably counting on it.

  He had to make sure she didn’t take the bait, because he couldn’t bear to lose her again. He had a responsibility to keep her safe, and he wouldn’t fail this time. He couldn’t.

  She closed her eyes
miserably. “I can’t let them kill her.”

  He lost the battle and reached for her. His hand glided up her back and closed around her shoulder. It felt so damn good to touch her, like being enveloped by a pocket of heat in the dead of winter. Warmth traveled through him, energizing him, healing what was broken.

  “I’ll see what I can find out.” Maybe if he figured out what the Kleptopsychs were up to, he could figure out how to stop them. There was no way to guarantee her mother’s safe return, but he could eliminate the threat the Kleptopsychs posed to Emma. That had to be his top priority right now.

  She reluctantly turned to face him. “Thank you. For everything.”

  He leaned forward, invading her personal space until she grew uncomfortable. He could tell by the way her body tensed and her pulse sprinted out of control. Her heartbeat pounded inside his head with a rhythmic cadence that was more seductive than the gasp she didn’t seem aware she released.

  Her gaze drifted to his mouth, and he almost lost it. It would’ve been so easy to swoop down and claim her lips, so easy to stretch her out on the couch and make her forget her fears and worries. Something in her eyes told him she might welcome his touch, the way she had all those years ago.

  But he held back. Attraction didn’t equal trust, and he wanted her to trust him.

  “Why don’t you start by telling me how you came to be hunted by the Kleptopsychs?”

  He told himself he just wanted to get the facts straight, but the truth was he wanted to learn all there was to know about Emma, to understand what hopes and dreams and fears had shaped her. But more importantly, he needed to know if Angie—his Angie—was still in there somewhere and if some hidden part of her remembered him.

  She severed the physical contact between them, walking up to the hearth and turning her back to him again. “There isn’t much to tell. They’ve been after me my whole life.” She gripped the stone mantelpiece for support. “The first attack came a few days after I was born. One of those things broke into our home and tried to smother me in my crib.”

  A prickle of unease formed at the base of Adrian’s spine. The story was eerily similar to his own.

  “My father saved me. After that, my mother took me and ran.” Her voice dropped to a strained whisper. “We’ve been running ever since.” She pivoted on her heels, giving him a clear view of her profile. A profile so similar to Angie’s—from the delicate arch of her nose, to her stubborn chin and full bottom lip—he had a hard time distinguishing between the woman she’d been and the woman she’d become.

  “What happened to your father?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” Wistfulness made her voice sweet and sad at the same time. “My mother rarely speaks of him. I assume he was killed. Otherwise, he would’ve gone with us, wouldn’t he?”

  He got the feeling there was a lot Emma’s mother hadn’t told her. Had the woman been trying to protect her or had the truth been too difficult to share?

  She finally took a sip from her mug, and her expression grew languid and smoky. She slanted a glance his way. “The coffee’s perfect. How did you know how I like it?”

  His gaze drifted to her lips, which now glistened with a thin film of moisture. “Lucky guess.”

  She took another gulp from the mug, and he watched her throat muscles work as she swallowed. “It’s nice and hot.” She bracketed the cup with her palms. “I haven’t been able to get warm since the attack last night.”

  Adrian bridged the distance that divided them in two swift strides. Before he could stop himself, he drew her into the circle of his arms, hoping to chase the chill from her bones. She tensed at the initial contact. Her back straightened, her fingers tightened around the mug she held, and she grew as still as a rabbit cornered by a wolf.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassured her in that silky tone that had always put Angie at ease.

  She relaxed, her body softening, molding to his in the most appealing manner. In that one moment, time ceased to be, and it made no difference what she chose to call herself. She was still the girl he’d rescued in that subway station all those years ago. The girl he’d kissed beneath a mantle of shivering trees and sheltered in his embrace when the world had come crashing down around them. The girl who’d pulled him from the ever-thickening shadows and brought him into the light.

  She was his light. When he was with her, the darkness within him retreated, and he felt whole and human again.

  “Are you warm now?” Her hair brushed his cheek, smelling faintly of flowers. But it was the fragrance of her skin that unhinged him—that familiar blend of jasmine and mint with just a hint of clove.

  It was hard enough resisting Emma, knowing who she was, seeing the striking resemblance she bore to Angie. But that scent swamped his senses and numbed his brain like a drug.

  The air left his lungs. He angled his head sideways and buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. His lips feathered across her cheekbone, a slow, deliberate caress. He could feel her succumbing to him, growing boneless in his arms.

  His hand slid up her back, stroking, massaging the tension from his spine. Maybe her mind didn’t remember him, but her soul did. He could tell by the way she leaned into him, by the soft sigh she released, by the erratic beat of her heart.

  He’d waited so long to hear the sound of that heart beating again. He’d dreamed of it, ached for it, even as he’d mourned its loss with a grief so violent it had the power to maim. There were times when he’d yearned for the numbness that plagued his kind, but there had been no salvation for him. His connection to his lost soul had been cemented the moment he met Angie, and he couldn’t break or weaken it, no matter how much he may have wanted to at times.

  She raised her chin, bringing her lips dangerously close to his. All he had to do was move a few inches to the right…

  A loud clang shattered the moment and jolted them apart. Emma had dropped the mug. Coffee puddled at their feet, spreading to saturate the floor and drench their shoes.

  “I’m sorry.” She fell to a crouch and proceeded to clean up the mess.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” Adrian joined her on the ground, happy to take over the task, but she refused to relinquish it to him.

  She gathered the porcelain wedges in her palm with manic eagerness. Maybe the chore served as a distraction, diverting her attention from the kiss they’d nearly shared. He took the shards from her, his fingers grazing hers.

  Emma tensed, jerking her hand away. She reached for another sharp fragment. This one punctured her skin, drawing blood. She dropped it, gathered her palm close and studied the wound.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “It’s just a scratch.”

  It didn’t look like a scratch to him. Blood oozed from the gash to drench her palm. He vaulted to his feet. “I’ll get a towel.”

  He left her in the living room and hastened to the kitchen. He wished he had a first-aid kit on hand, but his kind rarely bled. He returned with a washcloth to find Emma standing by the window, a faraway look on her face.

  He handed her the towel, and she took it halfheartedly, wrapping it around her injured hand.

  “Let me see how bad it is.” He reached for her hand, but she yanked it away, hiding it behind her back.

  “It’s fine.”

  “Let me see it,” he insisted.

  Defiance flared in her eyes, but she finally relented and pulled the towel from her wound. She stretched out her hand, palm up, and showed it to him. The gash had completely healed. Nothing marred her skin, not even the hint of a scar.

  She hastily lowered her hand, but Adrian grabbed it and examined it.

  “Don’t—” she warned.

  Her flesh pulsed with an odd energy, one that made his skin sizzle. When he pulled his fingers away, their tips were red and blistered, and painful sores erupted across his palm.

  He backed away from her, his mind racing, weakness spreading to invade his limbs again. The same wea
kness he experienced whenever he was exposed to angel’s blood.

  This made absolutely no sense. Emma was human. Her blood shouldn’t have had the power to damage him.

  And yet it did.

  He swept his gaze over her, for the first time in his life understanding how humans felt when they looked at him. This situation pushed the boundaries of his reality, and he wasn’t sure how to react.

  Wariness crept in to harden every muscle in his body. “What are you?” he rasped.

  Chapter Seven

  Emma had spent her entire life asking herself that very question. “I don’t really know.” It hurt to admit it, but she couldn’t lie to him. Not after he’d witnessed her miraculous recovery.

  “Are you an angel?”

  Her stomach lurched. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because only angel’s blood can do this to me.” He showed her the blisters on his hand. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he swayed a little on his feet. There was no question she’d done a number on him today.

  She walked past him, dropping onto the couch, her legs suddenly too weak to support her. Guilt and shame ate away at her. She hated that she’d hurt him, hated that she didn’t know exactly what she was or what role she was destined to play.

  Bending forward, she propped her elbows on her knees and gripped her head. “I wasn’t aware of that.” She exhaled, only now realizing she’d been holding her breath. “As far as I know, I’m human. But for some reason my blood is poison to them.” She met his gaze. “To you.”

  He came to sit beside her, looking as weary as she felt. “That’s how you came to have angel’s blood.” He shook his head in awe. “No wonder they’re after you. You’re a living, breathing weapon.”

  “I’m more than that. I’m virtually indestructible.” It felt good to share her secret with someone who understood. “I don’t get sick. Cuts and bruises and broken bones heal within seconds. I’m not even sure I can die.”