chapter Five
Angela stewed in silence as Niko headed his battered Jeep north, swiftly taking them away from the outskirts of Columbia to the farmlands that surrounded the town.
It was always a beautiful drive. The manicured fields dissected by meandering streams. The sturdy farmhouses that were dwarfed by red-painted barns, along with sheds and paddocks.
Today it was even more charming with the fading April sunlight offering a hint of spring and the tiny buds beginning to appear on the trees and bushes.
Unfortunately, she was too busy glaring at the stark male profile of Nikolo Bartrev to pay attention to the passing scenery.
He really was indecently handsome, she was forced to acknowledge, even as she considered the pleasure of punching hard enough to break his perfect nose.
He’d lied to her, used her, and now kidnapped her.
Okay, to be completely fair, he’d rescued her from the whacked-out freak. And she wasn’t entirely averse to having him near in case Dylan made a repeat appearance. At least until she could find someplace to hide.
But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still mad as hell.
Or that she wasn’t going to try to escape the very second she suspected he was about to serve her up to the wolves. Or in this case—the freaks.
She didn’t trust him any farther than she could throw him.
Which wasn’t very damned far.
Her dark thoughts were interrupted as the Jeep slowed and Niko halted in front of a heavy gate that blocked the narrow gravel road. Slipping out of the vehicle, he moved to punch a series of numbers onto a computer screen that was set in a small gatehouse before returning to steer the Jeep through the open gates and down the road that was lined with massive oak trees.
She frowned, abruptly conscious of just how isolated they were as he turned yet again and stopped in front of a picturesque log cabin that was nestled among the trees.
The front of the A-frame house was made entirely of glass, giving a hint of the large living room with a silver sectional couch loaded with bright pillows and a spiral staircase in the middle of the planked floor leading to the open loft above.
“What is this place?”
He put the Jeep in park and pocketed the keys. She grimaced, belatedly wishing she’d learned how to hot-wire a car.
Who knew it would come in handy?
“I’ve been staying here since traveling to Missouri.”
She blinked in surprise, her gaze returning to the house that managed to be elegant despite its rustic style.
It looked so . . . normal.
“Here?”
He shoved open the door to the vehicle and stepped out. “Did you think I crawled beneath a rock every night?”
With a shrug, she climbed out to join him on the pathway leading to the wide, wooden terrace.
“It’s where most slimy invertebrates slither.”
“Slimy?” His lips tugged into a lopsided grin. “Is that a scientific term?”
Her heart skipped a treacherous beat. It was no wonder he so rarely smiled. It was lethal.
“Personal opinion,” she managed to mutter.
Grasping her elbow, he led her onto the terrace. Then, reaching the glass door, he paused to flip open a small, metal box and placed his hand against it to be scanned. There was a small beep before the door slid open.
Good grief.
This place had the sort of security she’d only seen in movies.
Perhaps sensing her confusion, he sent her a wry smile as he urged her over the threshold and into the house.
“I borrowed the cabin from a friend,” he said, closing the door and pressing a button that reset the lock.
He pressed another button that did something to darken the windows. She assumed it was so they could see out, but no one could see in.
“A Sentinel?” she guessed.
“No, Serra is a psychic.”
In spite of the combustible combination of fear and anger that continued to seethe through her rigid body, Angela felt an undeniable stab of curiosity.
Hardly a big shocker.
She was a scientist who’d been obsessed with genetics for as long as she could remember.
“I thought most high-bloods lived together?”
He turned to meet her searching gaze. “Most prefer the comfort, not to mention the safety, of official compounds, but psychics have a need to seek solitude on occasion.”
“Oh.” She glanced toward the windows that offered a view of the thick woods that encircled the house. The nearest neighbor was no doubt miles away. “I never thought how annoying it must be to hear other people’s thoughts.”
“This house belonged to Serra’s parents before they retired to Florida.” His features softened as he spoke of the psychic. “She was fortunate to have parents who remained an important part of her life. They chose this spot to give her a place of peace.”
“Is she your lover?”
The words left Angela’s lips before she could call them back and her face flushed with heat as he stepped toward her with a wicked smile.
“There’s only one female I want in my bed.”
A dangerous excitement spiraled through her at his low, husky voice, stealing her breath and making her knees weak.
If only that were true.
If only this intelligent, powerful, drop-dead-gorgeous man had truly been a visiting professor who’d been intrigued by me, the shy young scientist.
Yeah, and if only pigs could fly.
She tilted her chin, trying to pretend as if she couldn’t feel the heat of his hard, muscular, perfectly chiseled body searing through her clothes.
“Why did you bring me here?”
His jaw clenched, as if he was frustrated by her refusal to accept that his desire could be genuine.
“The house has a sophisticated alarm system including hidden surveillance. It’s also less than an hour from a monastery.”
She’d known that the monasteries had a close connection to Valhalla. Not only training the mysterious Sentinels who served as guardians to the high-bloods when they traveled among the regular population, but also offering asylum for any high-blood who felt in danger.
No one was allowed in the monastery without invitation from the monks.
Not the cops, or military, or even the leaders of the country where the monastery was located.
They had the mystical powers to remain impervious to politics.
“You have business with the monks?”
“Using teleportation will be the fastest way to reach Valhalla.”
She took a hasty step backward. “No.”
“There’s no need to be scared.”
He studied her as if surprised she would be afraid of being magically transported from one place to another. As he should be. Under normal circumstances she would have been thrilled out of her mind at the opportunity to not only see inside a mysterious monastery, but to travel from portal to portal. It would be . . . amazing. But these weren’t normal circumstances and she wasn’t going to allow herself to be trapped in a place that she couldn’t be sure she could escape from.
“I’m not scared,” she said.
“Good.” His lips twisted. “Despite all the entertaining tales of people disappearing into outer space or arriving at the destination half-man/half-fish I can promise you that it’s perfectly safe.”
“I meant that I’m not going to Valhalla.”
His brows drew together at her stubborn tone. “Angela, it’s the one place Dylan can’t reach you.”
“Oh yeah? It didn’t sound that way to me.”
“What didn’t?”
“You accused Dylan of killing two Sentinels before managing to escape from this supposedly ‘safe haven’,” she reminded him, shivering at the memory of the strange female. It wasn’t remotely difficult to accept she’d murdered her friends. Dylan was clearly unstable. “Now you want to plant me there like a sitting duck?” Her eyes narrowed. “Or is that the point? Am I still the bait?”
His breath hissed between his teeth, his hand lifting to rake impatient fingers through his hair.
“If you were the bait, I would have left you at the apartment and waited for Dylan to return,” he rasped. “Because I can assure you that she would have come for you.”
Okay, that was true.
Even if she wasn’t in the mood to admit it.
Instead her chin tilted another inch. “You can’t force me to go to Valhalla.”
The blue eyes darkened with a hint of the predator that waited just below the surface.
Sentinel.
She’d glimpsed the danger that lurked beneath his pretense of civilization. A damned shame she hadn’t paid attention to her instincts.
“I think I’ve already proven I can make you go wherever I want,” he reminded her in deceptively soft tones.
“Bastard.”
He cupped her chin, his touch unexpectedly gentle. “But, I would rather you go willingly.”
“Not. Gonna. Happen,” she snapped, hoping he didn’t feel her shiver as the heat of his fingers warmed her to the tip of her toes.
And lots of interesting places in between.
His eyes darkened, but this time it was with a stark hunger that made her heart pound.
“What if I say pretty please?” he asked in a low, compelling voice, his thumb brushing over her lower lip.
“Stop that.”
His hooded gaze studied her upturned face, something perilously close to possession in his dark expression.
“Ah, if only it was so simple.”
Her mouth went dry as her body instinctively arched toward his solid strength. Dang it. She’d lusted after him for so long. Weaving impossible fantasies in her head.
Now her body didn’t seem to understand that she wasn’t supposed to be melting beneath his touch.
Traitorous hormones.
“Niko.” His name came as a breathy whisper instead of the protest she intended.
He muttered a low curse as his head lowered so he could brush his mouth along the sensitive curve of her neck.
“I like hearing my name on your lips.”
Her hands lifted to clutch at the cashmere softness of his sweater as he nuzzled a path upward. Oh . . . crap. It felt soooo good.
The sort of good that made smart women do stupid things.
“I’m mad at you,” she managed to mutter.
He found the pulse that thundered just below her jaw, stroking it with the rough rasp of his tongue before giving it a tiny nip.
“I know.”
Angela gasped at the primitive stab of pleasure that arrowed through her.
Her limited experience with the opposite sex included a few fumbled kisses, even more fumbled squeezes of her breasts followed by a quickie in her long forgotten boyfriend’s dorm room.
Nothing that made her anxious to find a new lover in the past three years.
Not until Niko had prowled into her lab.
Clearly even a female as embarrassingly naïve as she was could sense a man with the ability to please a woman.
She moaned as he outlined her mouth with the tip of his tongue.
“I don’t trust you.”
“You will,” he promised, stealing a deep, drugging kiss.
She briefly savored the taste of warm male desire, her stomach clenching with anticipation as she felt the hard thrust of his arousal.
This was what she’d sensed the minute he’d walked into the lab.
This smoldering attraction that could burn her to cinders.
Reluctantly she pulled back, her rasping breath the only sound to disturb the silence.
“Just because you can get me into bed?”
“Because I’m going to devote myself to proving I’ll never hurt you again,” he promised, his gaze locked on her lips that still tingled from his touch. “No matter how long it takes.”
She struggled to think.
Who knew it could be such a difficult task?
“Why?”
His finger brushed her heated cheek. “Hmmm?”
“Why are you concerned that I would be hurt now?” she persisted. “It’s not like you gave a rat’s ass for the past six weeks.”
He met her accusing gaze, his expression somber. “The Sentinels—the ones who Dylan murdered—were two of my closest friends.” He grimaced. “The pain of their loss blinded me.”
She refused to be swayed by the edge of pain in his voice.
“So not all Sentinels are so cold-blooded?”
He gave a short laugh. “Oh, we’re cold-blooded, especially when we’re tracking prey.” His hand gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “But a part of our mission is always to protect the innocent.”
A tiny part of Niko knew that he was behaving badly.
Again.
The poor female had nearly been kidnapped by a homicidal freak who looked like the definition of a monster. She’d discovered the man she’d come to trust had used her as a pawn. And then forced her against her will to travel to this remote cabin.
And that didn’t even include the revelation she was also one of the freaks. Something she’d obviously refused to process.
She was shaken, scared, and mad as hell.
But was he offering her comfort? Giving her the space she needed to come to terms with the upheavals in her life?
No.
He’d barely got her through the door before he had her in his arms, kissing her as if he’d already claimed her as his own.
But while the small shred of decency that had survived his years as a Sentinel urged him to release her, he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening.
He needed to touch her. It was a physical ache that he couldn’t deny.
“And now?” she asked, her defiant expression doing nothing to hide the vulnerability in her wide, velvet-brown eyes.
His fingers skimmed down the curve of her neck. “Now my first priority is to make certain you’re out of harm’s way.”
A fine tremor shook her body as his fingers continued down to trace the prominent line of her collarbone exposed by the drooping neckline of her sweatshirt.
Not that she was about to admit her ready response to his touch.
Once—before she’d discovered the truth—she would have eagerly shared her desire. It had been obvious in every shy smile and charming blush when he walked into a room.
The fact that he’d driven her to hide her desire was a raw regret that was going to torture him for the rest of his life.
“And then you’ll return to the hunt for Dylan?” she pressed.
He shrugged. Just six weeks ago he would have been infuriated by the mere question. Nothing was more important than tracking down the bitch who’d killed his friends.
But his priorities had changed. While he would never be satisfied until Dylan was brought to justice, his focus was now on ensuring that Angela was protected.
“That will be the decision of the Tagos,” he said.
She frowned. “What’s a Tagos?”
“The commander of the Sentinels.”
“And what will happen to me?”
“One problem at a time, angel,” he murmured, forcing himself to step back so he could pull his cell phone from his pocket.
“Wait,” she said, grasping his arm, her expression troubled.
“What is it?”
“I haven’t agreed to go with you.”
He squashed his impulse to inform her that he didn’t need her consent. After years of giving commands and having them obeyed, he was going to have to learn the art of negotiation.
A wry smile twisted his lips. He suspected it wouldn’t be the first, or the last change he would have to make for this female.
“Fine, but I have to check in and let them know Dylan is still out there,” he said.
She regarded him with open suspicion. “No tricks?”
“No tricks.” He leaned down to brush his lips over her furrowed brow. “The kitchen is fully stocked. See if there’s anything that you’d like for dinner.”
She took a hasty step backward, a revealing blush staining her cheeks.
“What about you?”
He swallowed a groan, the sweet taste of her skin clinging to his lips and the scent of her frustrated desire teasing his nose.
Sometimes superior senses weren’t always a bonus.
“Me?”
“You eat, don’t you?”
His gaze drifted down the length of her slender body before returning to meet her wide gaze.
“What I’m hungry for isn’t in the kitchen.”
Her lips parted, but perhaps aware he was looking for any excuse to yank her back into his arms and consume her on the spot, she turned to scurry toward the wide doors that led to the back of the cabin.
He breathed deeply of her lingering scent before pressing the number to Valhalla on his cell phone.
Within seconds he was patched through to Wolfe, the current Talos, and all-around badass.
“You have her?” the powerful leader of the Sentinels demanded, not bothering with pleasantries.
“Not Dylan, but I have the scientist.”
“You let your prey escape?”
“Yes.”
There was a startled silence before Wolfe sucked in an audible breath.
“Talk to me, Niko.”
“I’ve been . . .” It took an effort to say the word he’d never thought he’d utter. “Compromised.”
Wolfe muttered a low curse. “Explain.”
“I’m no longer impartial,” he said, proving the point as he crossed the room so he could keep Angela in sight as she entered the kitchen. “I’m afraid my judgment can’t be trusted.”
“None of us are impartial,” Wolfe said in rough tones, the words thick with self-disgust. As Tagos, Wolfe held himself personally responsible for the death of Adam and Fiona. Not that he wouldn’t have even if he wasn’t the leader. Calling Wolfe a control freak was like calling a nuclear bomb a small explosive. “Dylan’s betrayal has affected us all.”
“This is more than my thirst for revenge,” Niko confessed without apology. Odd. He should be horrified by the thought that he was about to let a female come between him and his duty. Instead all he wanted was to be done with the conversation so he could head into the kitchen. “I’ve allowed myself to become personally invested in Angela.”
“The scientist?”
“Yes.”
“Well, well.”
Niko ignored the mocking drawl in his friend’s voice. Wolfe was notorious for his belief that Sentinels shouldn’t allow distractions in their lives. Lovers were fine as long as they understood they came in a distant second place to the job.
“I need to get her to Valhalla,” he said. “But there might be a problem.”
He could sense that Wolfe was on instant alert. “Why? It’s not that long a drive.”
Niko grimaced. “No, but I can’t be sure Dylan is working alone. I’d be vulnerable to attack on the road.”
“There’s something else.”
Niko rolled his eyes. All Sentinels were hyperperceptive. It was part of their special ability.
But Wolfe was very close to being a psychic.
Annoying bastard.
“Angela is not entirely pleased by the thought of going to the freak-house,” he muttered. “I can’t be sure that once we’re away from a controlled environment she won’t try to escape.”
Wolfe’s bark of laughter echoed through the phone. “She hasn’t become a slave to your charm? There was a time when you only had to smile to get a woman to devote herself to your pleasure. You must be losing your touch, old man.”
Niko ignored the insult. He couldn’t tease about his feelings for Angela. Or the fact that he’d hurt her so badly he couldn’t be sure she would ever forgive him.
“Give me a few hours to convince her that I’m not entirely evil.”
“Hmmm. Do you intend to do this convincing in the bedroom?”
“Not your business.”
Wolfe gave a short laugh that ended on a weary sigh. “Maybe it’s for the best. Things are . . . tense right now.”
“Because of Dylan?”
“No. The Mave is convinced we’ll be able to clean up that nasty business.”
“Then what?”
“I’m not entirely certain, but it has something to do with the necros. Which means their Sentinels refuse to leave their sides. You know how overprotective they are.”
Necromancers (or diviners as they preferred to be called) were bonded to a guardian Sentinel while they were still young, never leaving the protection of Valhalla or outlying compounds without one at their side.
“A threat?”
Wolfe made a sound of disgust. “Why would they tell me? I am, after all, only the leader of the Sentinels. It’s not like I need to be kept in the damned loop.”
Niko grimaced. Politics sucked. Especially for a man who had the tact of a raging bull.
“Arel shouldn’t be too far away,” he said, eager to change the conversation. “Could you have him join me at the cabin? The sooner he can get on Dylan’s trail the better.”
Instantly Wolfe was back in commander mode.
“Will he need backup?”
The memory of the hatred blazing in Dylan’s crimson eyes made the question easy to answer.
“Yes, but don’t tell him I said so.”
“You got it, although it will be a few hours before any backup can get there since they have to drive.” A pause. “Niko.”
“Yeah?”
“Take care of yourself.”
“Always.”
“Oh, and give that scientist a kiss for me.”
Not a chance in hell.
“You should know by now, Wolfe, I don’t share,” he growled.