by Anne Hope
Marcus exhaled with a brisk nod. “While we were there, we discovered this device, a large sphere they called the soul extractor.”
That sounded downright sinister.
Marcus stopped pacing and skewered Adrian with another pointed stare. “Kyros somehow found a way to extract souls from human hosts and store them for later consumption.”
A dozen questions tumbled through Adrian’s mind, but none made its way to his mouth. He was too busy processing what Marcus had just told him.
“I thought we destroyed it,” Marcus tagged on. “But what if I was wrong? What if it’s still out there? All it would take is one of the Sacred Four, and the Kleptopsychs would have an inexhaustible energy source.”
“How?”
“The Sacred Four cannot be extinguished. Ever. These souls constantly replenish themselves, which means the Kleptopsychs could gorge themselves to their hearts’ content and never deplete this resource.” A dark shadow passed behind his eyes. “If they succeed in extracting and trapping one of these souls, humans would become obsolete.”
If Marcus’s suspicions were correct and the Kleptopsychs no longer had any use for humans, there was no telling the damage they’d wreak on the world. They barely tolerated mankind as it was. “They’re planning to exterminate humans.”
The realization struck him like a punch to the solar plexus. It knocked the wind out of him. For the first time, Adrian sympathized with the Watchers and their mission.
He considered telling his father about Emma, but something Marcus had said earlier held him back—something about the Sacred Four wiping out the dark energy that sustained his kind. If the darkness was eradicated, all descendants of the Nephilim would cease to be, including the Hybrids.
“How can the Kleptopsychs identify these souls?” he asked instead.
“The carrier will bear the mark of the chosen, the letter H in Enochian script. It looks like a heart and stands for heaven’s soldiers.”
Adrian was happy Marcus had never gotten a chance to see him as an infant, because the man had no idea Adrian bore one of these marks. “Who else has one?”
“I do, along with Regan and our son. You were right. We all share the same soul, and it’s one of the Sacred Four. There are two others at the complex with the mark as well, Jace and Lia. They share one of these souls as well.”
Adrian turned his back to his father, walking up to the broken window and gazing outside. Discarded cans and wrappers littered the back alley, and every so often a cacophony of voices rose from the street below. “And these soldiers, what exactly are they supposed to do?”
“Stop the Apocalypse.” Marcus’s voice grew hoarse, as grim as the scene below. “At all costs.”
Adrian slanted his head sideways, affording his father a glimpse of his profile. “And you’re all right with that? You’re willing to sacrifice every Hybrid you know for the cause?” He hesitated, studying Marcus from the corner of his eye. “Regan. Your infant son.” Me.
Marcus’s taciturn expression faltered. Pain slashed across his face, underscored by a steely resolve. “I can’t think about that right now. If I do, I won’t be able to see this through.”
“And you will see this through, won’t you?” If he knew anything about his father, it was the depth of his dedication to his leader, Cal. Then again, a year and a half ago Marcus and Cal had had a falling out, which was what had landed the Watcher on Adrian’s doorstep.
“If I absolutely have to. Yes.” From the looks of it, the two had worked out their differences, and Marcus was back to doing Cal’s bidding.
Adrian made his decision. The Watchers could never know about Emma. If he told them about her, they’d use her as a weapon against their own kind. There had to be another way to save humanity. He thought of Eddie and what he’d told him, how he’d accused the Watchers of using the greater good to justify murder. What gave them the right to decide who lived and who died? How did one measure the value of someone’s life?
Eddie was a cop. He saved people every day. His life mattered, and so did the lives of all the Hybrids living in Adrian’s community. He wouldn’t sacrifice them. He couldn’t. He needed more time. Time to figure this thing out. Time to find another solution. Adrian headed to the door. “It looks like I’ve hit a brick wall. I’ll get out of your hair now.”
Marcus rushed to a nearby table and penned his number on a notepad. “You’ll let me know if you learn anything.” He tore off the piece of paper and handed it to Adrian.
Adrian pocketed the number, even though he didn’t intend to use it. “And if you happen to find the woman the Kleptopsychs abducted, make sure nothing happens to her.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Adrian stepped into the gloomy hallway, angling a final glance his father’s way. “Glad to see you’re still breathing.” And with those parting words, he hastened down the stairs and sped out of the building and into the narrow street.
Chapter Ten
It was late morning by the time Adrian glided the Tahoe onto the gravel road in front of his townhouse and killed the engine. He’d spent the whole night on a wild-goose chase. After his run-in with Marcus, he’d headed to the open-air apartment complex in Maryvale where Eddie had said the Kleptopsychs were holed up. By the time Adrian got there, they’d already vacated the premises.
He’d found an enclosed drug operation instead, populated with scores of corrupt souls. Souls he would’ve happily extinguished in the past with an eagerness that bordered on obsession. But as much as he would’ve liked to rid the world of the vermin contaminating it, he’d walked away without harming anyone.
Obsession was a dangerous thing. There was a time when it had owned him and driven him to murder. For over a quarter of a century, he’d held it in check. Since he’d met Emma, however, the old compulsion to guard the weak and punish the evil kept rearing within him. If he wasn’t careful, it could take him over again.
The sound of a gunshot rent the day, and Adrian sprang free of the SUV. Without bothering to close the door, he sprinted to Eddie’s place, where the shot had originated. His blood ran cold as a dozen frightful scenarios zipped through his head, and he couldn’t concentrate long enough to tunnel his vision and see what the hell was going on.
So he ran.
When he tore into Eddie’s backyard, he found the cop standing behind Emma, guiding her arm as she aimed at an assembly of soda cans.
A feeling he didn’t recognize bit into him, filled him with sharp, violent fury. “Get your hands off her,” he growled.
Eddie and Emma jerked apart, turning to face him.
Emma smiled, and the act briefly chased the shadows from her eyes. She rushed to his side, stopping short of flinging herself in his arms. “Thank God. I was afraid they got you, too.”
Adrian couldn’t calm the riot of sensations inside him. The image of the Rogue touching Emma was permanently seared in his mind. But his right brain kicked in, and he realized he had nothing to fear from Eddie. Eddie was involved with Sheila. He held on to that thought as the cop approached him.
“I wasn’t sure when you’d get back,” Eddie said, his voice stiff and guarded. “Thought I’d kill some time with a little target practice. Emma wants to learn how to defend herself.”
That was probably a good idea, given what was after her. If the Kleptopsychs ever got their hands on her…
“Did you find my mother?” Emma’s question jarred him back to reality.
He shook his head, noting the disappointment in her gaze, hating that he’d put it there. “I tried, but I can’t seem to pick up her trail. The bastards are really good at covering their tracks.”
Eddie walked up to them, taking the gun from Emma and holstering it at his waist. “Did you check out the building in Maryvale?”
Adrian gave a short nod. “The Kleptopsychs had hightailed it out of there by the time I arrived. Their black energy was all over the place. I drove for hours, following it. Then I lost it a little past the Redl
ands.”
Eddie frowned. “Think they went back to their base?”
“Possibly. But if they did, they headed in different directions because their energy split into so many directions I couldn’t follow it.”
Emma hugged herself, looking weary. “How are we ever going to find her?”
“We’re not going to find anyone,” Adrian reminded her. “I am.”
Stubbornness hardened her jaw and made her eyes flash with gold fire, but thankfully she didn’t argue with him.
Eddie rubbed the nape of his neck. “Well, now that you’re back, I think I’ll head over to the precinct, see what else I can dig up.”
He left them alone, standing on a patch of rough earth, swathed in tension and sunlight. Silence stretched between them, interrupted only by the occasional chirp of a sparrow or the buzz of a hummingbird.
Emma’s gaze flitted to his face, then settled at some distant point over his left shoulder. “So what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Hide out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“Yes.” His tone left no room for negotiation.
“For how long? A week, a month, a year?” She ran her hands through her hair, exasperated.
“For as long as it takes.”
Sunlight glanced off her face, making her skin gleam. The tortured look she gave him grabbed him by the neck and squeezed. But that wasn’t what filled him with the urge to pull her to him, to run the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, to plunge down and taste her slightly pouting mouth.
He couldn’t explain his reaction, the overwhelming desire to stake his claim on her. Maybe it had something to do with seeing her wrapped in Eddie’s arms earlier.
A brisk breeze blew, making her hair flutter around her face and exposed throat. It parted her jean jacket, revealing what lay beneath. Creamy skin stretched over a delicate collarbone, disappearing beneath the frilly neckline of her shirt.
A shirt he’d recognize anywhere. He hadn’t noticed it before because her jacket had concealed it, but now old wounds ripped open and threatened to awaken the beast he fought so hard to keep caged.
It was Angie’s shirt, the pink one with the roses. Emma must have found it in the guestroom, where he kept some of Angie’s old things. Before he left for Phoenix, he’d given her the keys to his townhouse, in case she needed anything. Apparently, she’d needed clothing, and out of all the items he’d stashed in that dresser, this was the one she’d picked.
Emotion spiraled through him, choking off the air supply to his lungs until he nearly growled in pain and pent-up rage.
“What is it?” She touched his arm, and the rage melted away, replaced by a longing so fierce it made every inch of him burn.
Angie had been wearing that silk top on the day they’d first made love, when he’d brought her to his secret lair beneath the city and finally claimed her as his. He remembered the anticipation that had coursed through him as he’d undone the pink buttons, peeling off the delicate fabric and slowly exposing her white cotton bra.
Tamping down the impulse to howl like an injured animal, he hooked his hand around Emma’s neck and yanked her to him so violently she gasped. “Why do you keep doing this to me?” His voice was strained, taut with grief.
“Doing what?” She inhaled in choppy breaths. Her hands rose to his chest, but she didn’t push him away as he’d expected.
“Reminding me.”
Her lips parted, but he didn’t allow her to question him further. Surrendering to the hot, aching need that had been building inside him since the moment he’d found her, he swept down and claimed her mouth.
Emma made a mewling sound, her body stiffening, her fists trapped between their bodies, the tension in her limbs acting as a barrier between them. Then her muscles loosened, her arms rose to encircle his neck, and she kissed him back.
Chapter Eleven
If passion were a flavor, it would taste like Adrian’s kiss—sweet and intoxicating, with a hint of fire and spice. Emma savored it, even as a warning sprouted deep in her mind.
Stop. Stop now, before you lose your soul to him.
But she didn’t heed that warning. His kiss was too powerful, too addictive to resist. Something inside her had come alive at the touch of his mouth, and she couldn’t ignore or escape it.
Every sensation in her body intensified. She could feel the sun baking her face, the stroke of the wind in her hair, the energy emanating from the ground beneath her feet. That energy spread through her, made her every nerve ending hum and her pores tingle. Molten heat rolled over her, incinerating her resistance.
She tightened her hold on him as his mouth ravaged hers. His tongue swept across her lips, slowly pried them open. Then his tongue invaded her mouth. Each silky thrust swamped her senses, until she was drunk with need, thirsty for the sweet, familiar taste of him.
She couldn’t draw enough air into her lungs, couldn’t calm the wild rush of her pulse or the desire that shot through her. Unfamiliar need pooled deep in her belly, and she whimpered.
He swallowed the sound she made and pressed her harder against him, flattening her breasts between them. She felt every sinewy muscle on his body, every hard curve and flat plane. They fit together so perfectly, as though they’d been made for each other, carved from a single block of clay, molded by the same sculptor’s hand.
His hands glided up her back, his fingers stroking the length of her spine. It felt so good to be held this way—like she finally belonged, like she mattered, not because of what she was but because of who she was.
Then the kiss changed, grew hotter, more insistent. Adrian released a muffled curse and wedged his thigh between her legs.
Emma forgot where they were, that Eddie might still be around watching them from his kitchen window, that an army of soul-thirsty Kleptopsychs might come crashing in on them at any moment, that the man she kissed was not only a creature of darkness but a virtual stranger.
She trailed her fingers up his neck, dug her nails into his scalp and arched into him, guided by a power beyond her control. Her other hand boldly slid beneath his shirt, her fingers exploring his body, her palm sliding over the graceful arc of his back. The raw, savage sound he made in response was the last thing she heard.
A vision skirted the perimeter of her mind, flirted with an old memory. Before she could figure out what was happening, her world dissolved and another reality swept in to take its place.
She was pressed against a column in a room with flickering chandeliers and ancient artifacts. In the distance she could hear the rumble of a subway station, feel the steady vibrations of trains taking off. A man’s heat surrounded her, swamped all her senses. His hand traveled down the length of her neck, swept across her ribs to close over her breast…
Excitement shimmied through her, wrapped in a thread of insecurity. This was the first time anyone had touched her so intimately, and equal parts anticipation and anxiety zipped through her bloodstream.
Making up in eagerness what she lacked in experience, she wrapped herself around him. “Teach me,” she whispered against his mouth. “Make love to me, Adrian.”
As quickly as it had come, the vision faded, and reality slid into focus again. Emma squeezed her arms between their bodies and shoved Adrian off her, stumbling back. Panic gushed in, quickly dousing the passion that had taken her over.
She couldn’t bear to look at his face, to see the guilt and confusion clouding his features, the feral need still simmering in his eyes. If she allowed herself to gaze into those hypnotic blue eyes, she’d be lost.
“I—” Words failed her. Her throat felt scraped raw, her thoughts too scattered.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was just as hoarse as hers. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
She slid her tongue over her lower lip, which still tasted of him. She wanted to kiss him again, to run and hide where he could never find her.
He took a step toward her, but she raised her hand to ward him off. “Don’t.” It wasn’t him she w
as afraid of but herself. When she was around him, she lost her freaking mind.
“I need some time.” And distance. “To clear my thoughts. Please don’t come after me.”
Then she marched away from him, finding shelter in the neighboring woods.
He was a goddamn idiot. One would think after existing for two centuries he would’ve developed a scrap of sense, not to mention some self-control. Instead, he’d jumped Emma like some wild animal and sent her running for the hills.
Not exactly the ideal scenario, given the danger she was in.
The only thing that kept Adrian from stalking into the woods after her was the fact that he could still feel her presence, which meant she hadn’t gone far. Instead, he paced back and forth across his back porch, soothed by the soft rasp of his soles scraping the wooden boards beneath his feet.
The sun rode high in the sky, and the midafternoon heat hung heavy in the air. The smell of juniper filled his nostrils, and the fragrant breeze carried traces of the wildflowers dotting the valley behind his home.
On any other day, the sounds and smells of nature would’ve calmed his mind and chased the tension from his limbs. On this particular afternoon, however, they only served to aggravate him.
Emma had been gone for hours. What was she doing out in the woods all alone? He remembered how she’d tensed at the sound of the coyote the previous night. Like Angie, she was a city girl through and through. But, apparently, braving the wilderness seemed less daunting than facing him at the moment.
He raked rough fingers through his hair, blew out a string of air. His blood still resonated with the passion they’d shared, desire conspiring with worry to set his teeth on edge. As much as he cursed himself for his rash behavior, he couldn’t deny the pleasure her response had elicited within him.
She’d kissed him back, arched into him, slid her hands beneath his shirt to stroke his back.
Her touch had felt so damn good, his skin still burned from it. Need dueled with his desire to take things slow. He’d never been very good at keeping his hands off Angie. He’d hoped things would be different with Emma. He’d made an effort to develop some restraint over the last quarter of a century.
