by Anne Hope
Or so he’d thought.
With a colorful curse, Adrian tore down the wooden stairs. To hell with it. He’d been patient long enough. It was time to bring her home, even if he had to toss her over his shoulder. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before.
Following her silent call, he let loose the predator inside him and stormed into the woods after her.
Emma sat on a flat boulder, next to one of the numerous rain-fed creeks crisscrossing the valley behind Adrian’s property. Arizona hadn’t had much rain lately, and the arroyo was dry and muddy, nothing but a jagged crevice in the ground.
Empty and isolated.
Like her.
She hadn’t felt empty or lonely when Adrian had kissed her, though. The emotions swelling inside her had filled her chest to capacity. Deprived of room, her heart had hurtled into her throat, where it had remained lodged for the better part of the afternoon.
So she sat here on this cold, hard rock, trying to squeeze it back into place. An hour passed, followed by a second and a third, and she still couldn’t calm the wild rush of her pulse, nor could she will herself to move.
Her stomach growled in protest. She’d missed lunch and her body was starting to complain. She should probably head back to the house. Adrian’s house.
Where the air would be thick and ripe with tension.
Where the memory of their kiss would loom like an elephant between them.
Where possibly more visions waited to assault her.
She raised her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them as though the act could somehow protect her, but she knew it was pointless. The threat lived inside her. Inside her mind. In her very soul. There was no hiding from it or escaping it.
When the visions had first started, she’d feared she was going insane. This intense sense of déjà vu would come upon her, and she’d be instantly propelled to places she’d never been—a subway station in New York City, the bustling sidewalks of Times Square, a darkened theater.
The visions would be so vivid, she’d smell the sweet scent of roasting nuts, hear the drip of water or the rumble of a train, feel the jostle of a pedestrian or the velvet softness of a royal-blue couch.
More often than not, the images would assail her at night, in her dreams. She’d awaken in a cold sweat, confused and disoriented, unable to recall her own name. Only one name would dominate her thoughts in the wake of a vision. A name that hadn’t meant anything to her.
Until now.
“How long are you planning on staying out here?”
Adrian.
Emma vaulted to her feet, her pulse beating frantically. She swallowed to push her heart back where it belonged, but it was no use. The traitorous thing refused to cooperate. “I thought I told you not to follow me.”
“And I thought I made it clear how dangerous it is for you to go wandering off on your own.”
He stood, tall and lean, between two towering maples, wearing low-slung jeans and a black T-shirt that matched his dark, brooding expression. Shadows danced across his face, accentuating his sharp cheekbones and the powerful slant of his jaw. Wherever the sun kissed his skin, it glinted like polished bronze.
Her fingers itched to touch him, to trace the curve of his jawbone, to feel his warmth again.
Emma balled her hands into fists, securing them behind her back, where she hoped they’d behave. “You can’t keep me prisoner here.”
He took a menacing step forward. “Watch me.”
Why wasn’t she afraid of him? Why wasn’t she running from this place, the way common sense dictated, the way she’d been trained to do?
She scanned her surroundings. The forest appeared to go on forever, but the road couldn’t be more than a mile or two away. She could signal a passing car, hitchhike her way out of here.
Adrian watched her intently, studying her face, trying to read her reaction. If she decided to bolt, he’d undoubtedly give chase. She was tempted to test her theory, but she fought the urge. If he chased her, the most likely scenario was that she’d end up in his arms, and—as appealing as the thought was—she didn’t trust herself not to succumb to his kisses again.
“Do you always get what you want?” He seemed like the kind of guy who never took no for an answer.
A sharp gleam entered his navy-blue eyes, a flicker of pain underscored by regret. “Not always.”
Subduing her natural instinct to flee, she narrowed the distance between them. “Who was she?” She couldn’t help it. She had to ask.
“Who?” He was playing dumb, sidestepping the question.
Emma refused to let him off the hook. “The woman who broke your heart.”
His only reaction was a twitch at the corner of his mouth. His was a perfect mouth, beautifully shaped and even more beautiful to kiss. “We should head back to the house. You must be hungry.”
“Why did she leave you?” He was so reserved, his expression unreadable, his emotions carefully veiled. Maybe she was playing with fire, but she wanted to see a flash of the man who’d kissed her earlier. The man who’d stripped away her inhibitions with a single stroke of his lips. “Did it have something to do with this whole caveman act?”
He turned his back to her, preparing to trek back to the house, and Emma didn’t think he was going to answer her question. But he did. “She didn’t leave me.” A breath of hesitation followed, laden with grief. “She died.”
Chapter Twelve
“She didn’t leave me. She died.”
Emma stared into her empty soup bowl, mortified. She shouldn’t have pushed him so hard, shouldn’t have taunted him so shamelessly. Adrian had a right to his secrets, just like she had a right to hers. He’d been nothing but kind to her since she’d met him, and all she’d done was lash out at him, time and time again.
Why? Because he wasn’t what she’d expected? Because he challenged every belief she’d ever had about his kind? Because he made her feel?
His wide palm closed over her hand, and only then did she realize she’d been clinking her spoon against her bowl. “We don’t want to shatter any more of the china.”
Understanding unfurled within her. “What you really mean to say is that you don’t want me to bleed all over you again.”
He smiled, and the simple act transformed his face entirely. The shadows faded from his eyes, and that devastating dimple dug into his left cheek. “If it can be avoided.”
She deposited the spoon on the table in a gesture of surrender. “I just don’t know what to do with myself,” she confessed. “I feel trapped and totally helpless.” Frustration knotted her insides. “My mother is out there somewhere, maybe hurt, and I have no clue how to find her.”
“She wouldn’t want you to find her.”
She stood and began to pace nervously.
He was right. Her mother wouldn’t want Emma to find her. Christina had sacrificed herself so her daughter could get away. But regardless of the risk involved, regardless of what was at stake, she couldn’t leave her mom at the mercy of those monsters. She just couldn’t.
“I don’t care.” Defiance stiffened her muscles. “I’m tired of running and hiding. For once in my life, I want to fight back.”
He came to stand beside her. “Is that why you asked Eddie to teach you how to shoot?”
“Yes.” His compelling presence sucked the air from the room and made her flesh hum. “You said it yourself, I’m a living, breathing weapon. It’s about time I started acting like one.”
He sighed, rubbing the strain from his neck. “There’s a lot more to this than you know.” He reflected, as though trying to decide how much to tell her. “While I was in Phoenix, I came across some new information.”
“Is it about my mother?”
“No.” He met her gaze, held it. “It’s about you. Remember that group I told you about, the Watchers?”
She nodded.
“My father happens to be one of them, and I ran into him when I was searching your old place.”
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br /> Several questions darted through her mind, but she forced herself to remain silent, eager for him to elaborate.
Adrian watched her with that sharp, analytical expression again. “I think you have a right to hear what he told me, but it can’t leave this room.”
The intensity with which he spoke piqued her curiosity. “I won’t breathe a word of it. I promise.”
She took his blink as an affirmation of trust. “The Watchers deal in prophecies, and one of them alludes to four sacred souls. These souls apparently have the power to end the curse, to wipe out my kind.” He released a short, irritated sigh. “The Watchers are looking to reunite them, and the Kleptopsychs are determined to see that doesn’t happen.”
She had a feeling she knew where this was headed. “If the Kleptopsychs eliminate these four souls,” she said, “they eliminate the threat.”
“Exactly.”
“How do they know how to identify them?”
He touched his thumb to her neck, and a swarm of butterflies took flight in her ribcage. “The heart-shaped birthmark.”
She raised her hand to her throat, and her fingers brushed his. The butterflies went wild. “That makes no sense. You’ve got the same mark, and you’re soulless.”
The glittering intensity of his gaze as he drank in the sight of her turned her knees to Jell-O. “We’re…connected.”
“Connected how?”
He withdrew his hand and turned his back to her. He did that often, she realized, shielded his face from her view when he was hiding something from her. She’d only known him a day, and she was already starting to get what he was about. It was as if something deep and visceral within her recognized him, knew how to read his quirks and moods and facial expressions.
“Connected how?” she repeated.
The phone rang, interrupting them. Adrian went to answer it, and her question was either forgotten or ignored.
“That was Eddie,” he told her a few minutes later. “They got a license plate number, put out an APB on it. The minute the police locate the car, Eddie will hear about it.”
Emma tried to rein in her excitement, failed. “If we track down the Kleptopsychs, we’ll know where they took my mom.” Adrenaline shot through her veins. “I can get her back.”
“If and when we find their base, you’re not going anywhere near it. I am.”
Great. Here comes the caveman act again.
“I just finished telling you I’m through hiding.”
“And I didn’t finish telling you what I learned.” That uncompromising, tough-as-nails look claimed his features again. “If the Watchers get their hands on your soul, all descendants of the Nephilim are at risk. If, however, the Kleptopsychs get it, humanity could face the very real threat of extinction.”
She watched him, dumbstruck. “Are you saying my soul could destroy the world?”
His sensual mouth became a thin, flat line, as unyielding as stone—nothing like the velvet heat she’d experienced earlier. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Adrian wasn’t sure if he’d made a mistake sharing the information Marcus had given him with Emma. He wanted her to understand what was at stake, to grasp the gravity of the situation so she wouldn’t be tempted to run off again.
Still, the last thing he’d wanted to do was burden her with a responsibility even greater than the one she already carried. It couldn’t be easy, knowing you were instrumental in the survival of mankind. That one wrong move could cost the lives of billions. That you were a weapon, coveted by those who sought to preserve humanity and those who wanted only to see it eradicated.
Shortly after their conversation, Emma had withdrawn to the guestroom, claiming she needed to rest. But Adrian knew what she’d really needed was some time alone to absorb everything she’d learned.
He should’ve been in there with her, holding her, reassuring her that they’d get through this together. Frustration ate away at him. It was so goddamn hard, having all these memories, all these feelings, and not be able to act on them.
The black curtain of night fell, signaling the end of another day. Adrian hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past forty-eight hours, and exhaustion was creeping in, fatigue clouding his thoughts, weakening his resolve.
He mounted the stairs, intending to walk straight to his room. Instead, he stopped and stood outside Emma’s door. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to breach the thin oak barrier and go to her. He could feel her on the other side, her essence calling out to him.
His fingers itched to reach for that silver knob. Just one small turn and there would be nothing separating them. Nothing but a chasm of time, forgotten memories and broken promises. He’d told her he’d protect her, and he’d failed. Did she trust him to protect her now? Would he manage to keep his promise this time?
He retreated to his room across the hall, proud of the level of self-control he’d demonstrated. Closing the door behind him, he exhaled in disappointment and relief, then walked over to the dresser, upon which he kept a small jewelry box. He opened the lid and retrieved the necklace lying on the black velvet liner. Angie’s necklace.
The angel wings glinted like fire in the moonlight as he cradled the pendant in his palm. Echoes of Angie’s energy still resonated from the gold, sharpening the ache inside him. It heightened his desire to seek Emma out, her proximity making the impulse all that much harder to resist.
His fist closed around the necklace so violently, the tips of the wings dug into his flesh. He shut his eyes and gulped down a mouthful of air. This was going to be tougher than he’d thought.
Still clutching the pendant, he stretched out on the king-sized bed, begging for sleep to claim him and numb his senses. But all he felt was the emptiness of his room, the loneliness of his bed, the wide gulf that divided him from the woman who now owned his soul.
Frustration morphed to anger, which morphed to determination. He would win Emma’s affection even if he had to play dirty to do it. He couldn’t mold her will the way he could others, but there was one power he did have over her. The power to stimulate her emotions and shape her dreams.
He focused all of his energy, the passion he’d suppressed for nearly twenty-six years, on the task of connecting with Emma’s soul. His ability was rusty from lack of use, but it came back to him quickly, like riding a bike.
“Dream of me tonight,” he whispered, the words a soundless plea in his mind. “Remember me.”
Chapter Thirteen
The dreams came in clusters, small bursts of color and light, emotions and sensations. Emma wasn’t sure where one ended and the next began, couldn’t quite piece them together.
A cold knife pressed to her throat. The sound of a train departing. A gunshot, followed closely by another. The smell of blood and fear. A leather-clad figure urging her to flee.
Then the scene morphed to something entirely surreal. A subway car went catapulting across the air, and a creature with pale blue eyes whispered eerily to her. “She will not save you. Nothing can.”
The words sounded so prophetic, she nearly jolted awake. Intense sadness gripped her, and a feeling of such tremendous loss came upon her, her heart broke from it.
Flashing colors and lights again. A mad dash through Times Square, where sweaty bodies boxed her in and clouds thundered overhead. A darkened theater with red velvet drapes and the blue couch she kept picturing in her dreams.
Only this time she wasn’t alone. Adrian was with her, studying her with that electric gaze of his, stroking the gold winged pendant she wore around her neck. Then he was kissing her, and suddenly they were outside, beneath a dense canopy of trees. She was drifting, floating, carried by an unrelenting fog that filled her with an odd blend of peace and longing.
The fog dissipated, and she now stood on a bridge, staring down at a large expanse of water. Traffic roared, drowned only by the blustering wind. A slow, burning pressure invaded her mind, followed by despair. She was going to jump, had to jump. It was the
only way to stop the endless cycle of pain.
She will not save you. Nothing can.
Adrian called out to her, begged her to take his hand. His familiar voice was like a lifeline, pulling her back from the edge, chasing the darkness from her soul and filling her with hope.
She needed to get to him, to grab hold of the salvation he offered. She extended her arm. Her fingers brushed his. She was almost there, just one more inch…
A loud crash split the night, the distinctive sound of metal striking metal. Before she could cry out, she was falling, floating weightlessly again, first through air, then through water.
A crippling coldness invaded her limbs. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The water was everywhere—in her eyes, her hair, her lungs. Something held her down. Something hard and heavy and unyielding. Blackness fought to close in on her. Her lungs contracted painfully.
She was going to die.
Adrian gripped her hand, his face pinched by grief. The canvas shifted, and she was no longer at the bottom of the river, but lying on a hospital bed.
“Please, don’t let me go,” she whispered. She tried to squeeze his hand, but her strength failed her.
Then she was watching the scene from above, looking down at her lifeless body. Adrian’s head rested over her heart, a dark patch against the white. The whiteness expanded. Light spread to surround her. The scene faded, like a washed-out picture, and she was floating once more…
Emma jackknifed in bed, gasping for air. Her fingers gripped the sheets, and a cold sweat drenched her body. Violent sobs issued from her throat, and she was powerless to stop them.
The dreams had always been frightfully real, but never had they assaulted her with such vivid clarity. Adrenaline saturated her bloodstream, clawing at her heart.
“Holy hell.” She ran her palms over her face so hard the act threatened to peel off her skin.
