The hawk’s shadow swept across them as it took off after whatever prey had caught its attention.
Cliff surveyed the countryside around them. “It’s weird. The things you take for granted. The things you wouldn’t expect to miss much if they were taken away.”
Most Immortal Guardians could tolerate at least a few minutes of direct sunlight and several more of indirect sunlight. The older the immortal, the more powerful they were and the more sun exposure they could tolerate.
Aidan was quite old.
But vampires began to blister as soon as the sun’s rays touched their skin. They couldn’t tolerate any exposure at all.
“I’ve always been a night owl,” Cliff mused. “So when I realized I couldn’t go out in daylight anymore, I didn’t think I’d miss it.” He continued to drink in the bright light. “But I do. I really do.”
“Not anymore,” Aidan vowed.
Minutes passed.
“Listen,” Cliff began, “there’s something I need you to do.”
“Name it.”
“I wouldn’t ask,” he added, his reluctance evident. “I had hoped I wouldn’t have to.” His face turned pensive. “But Bastien can’t teleport and—”
“What would you have me do?” Aidan interrupted.
Cliff drew a folded piece of paper from his jeans pocket and held it out. “I need you to go to this address.”
Aidan took the paper with his free hand. Flipping it open, he read the address.
Understanding dawned.
He nodded. “Consider it done.”
“You know what I’m asking?” Cliff pressed.
“Yes.”
“I’d ask Richart, but I don’t really know him well. And Seth…”
“You’d rather Seth not know, if he doesn’t already.”
“Yes.”
“I understand.” Aidan tucked the paper into his back pocket. “Shall I go tonight?”
“No. It doesn’t have to be tonight. I don’t want you to cut your date short. Just… soon.”
Aidan smiled but knew it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll take care of it.”
“You don’t have to bring me out in the sun again.”
“I didn’t have to bring you out into the sun today. I did it because I wanted to,” Aidan told him. “And I’ll do it again tomorrow for the same reason. And every day after that as long as you continue to fight.”
“You’re a good man, Aidan.”
“So are you, Cliff. Nothing that happens in the future will ever negate that.”
“You don’t know how much I want that to be true,” Cliff said, his face somber.
Chapter Three
Dana gave the mirror one last glance. “You look nervous,” she told herself.
She felt it, too. When was the last time she had gone on a date?
A moment’s thought made her grimace. Graham Walsh. Four months ago.
Ugh. What a jerk. All hands. No brain. Smarmy little bastard.
Why couldn’t her gift tell her ahead of time which men would suck as companions and which ones wouldn’t?
She paused. Well, it had, sort of, this time. Hadn’t it?
Heat coursed through her as she recalled the vision of Aidan touching her bare body.
Was she crazy to let that vision guide her instead of the other two, which had been so frightening? The man had a violent past.
What soldier hasn’t? her inner voice countered. Especially if they did tours in the Middle East?
True. But Aidan had freely admitted that he had a violent present as well.
Not really, the voice denied. He said he has a dangerous job. Dangerous, not violent.
She bit her lip. He liked to hack at other men with swords in his free time. That was violent, wasn’t it?
Isn’t that better than parking his ass on the couch and playing video games all day or drinking with his buddies all night?
She supposed so. It certainly kept Aidan fit. All those lovely muscles…
But what about the tarot cards? They had confirmed that something bad was on Aidan’s horizon. Did she really want to start something with him when she knew something awful was coming?
When is something bad not on the horizon? That’s life.
Also true. How many times had bad things happened in her life?
Too many to count. And her damned gift hadn’t prevented any of it.
Her damned gift that hadn’t bothered Aidan in the least. Usually when she told guys she was psychic, they assumed she was a flake, or mentally off, or—in a few cases—thought her a tool they could use to win the lotto. And they tended to really hate that she saw things about them that they preferred to keep hidden.
Aidan, on the other hand, had been refreshingly unfazed by it all.
And he had made her laugh. She loved that about him. He had a very appealing sense of humor.
“You still look nervous,” she told her reflection.
She supposed that was better than looking desperate.
Aidan hadn’t mentioned where they would be dining, so she had had worn her trusty black dress that could pass for either casual or dressy, depending on the shoes and accents she wore with it.
She’d add those after she saw what he was wearing.
A bell dinged downstairs.
Her heart leapt.
Switching off the light, she left her bedroom, hurried down the hallway, and skipped down the stairs that led to the shop.
When she spotted Aidan, she damn near tripped over her own feet.
He stood just inside the door, his hands in the pockets of his slacks as he calmly waited for her to appear.
She even liked that about him. People seemed to have less and less patience every day, wanting to have whatever they wanted the minute they wanted it and getting pissed at even a minute’s delay.
Aidan seemed perfectly content to wait, as though he had all the time in the world.
A faint smile tilted his lips as he studied the comfortable waiting area in front of the bay window.
Tonight he wore a dress shirt, tie, and jacket—all black—and looked even more handsome than he had last week. No five-o’clock shadow darkened his strong jaw. His wavy hair had been carefully tamed. Mostly.
She grinned when she saw a few curls already starting to rebel.
When he glanced over at her, his smile widened. “There you are.”
“Hi.”
His gaze went to her own carefully tamed brown locks and swept a slow path to her toes. His eyes twinkled when he saw her shoes: black Converse Chuck Taylor high-top sneakers.
“Don’t worry,” she said as she approached him. “I’ll change them before we leave. These are just more comfortable for work.”
When she stopped in front of him, he took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. “You look lovely.” He kissed her hand again. “And I’ve seen the shoes women torture themselves with today. I’d rather you be comfortable. The Chucks are fine.”
She stared up at him, her heart trip-hammering in her breast. “Seriously?”
“Of course.”
That was a first.
The image of a pretty, petite redhead flashed through her mind.
Fighting a frown, Dana withdrew her hand. “You don’t, by any chance, have a redheaded girlfriend who wears Chucks, do you?”
His eyebrows flew up. “You saw her when we touched?”
She nodded, disappointment striking.
“Do you remember the toddler I told you about?” he asked.