Page 93 of A Touch of Crimson
Vash paced restlessly. “She’s brainwashed,” she hissed. “I don’t know how long Adrian has had her, but he’s trained her well. She tried to kill me!”
Torque met his gaze and shrugged.“I didn’t see her in action, but I patched up Vash’s wounds. Shadoe did a number on her.”
Vash’s long hair swayed around her hips with her agitated movements. “I don’t think you have time to talk it out with her. It’ll take years to deprogram her, and the lycan who was with her is the one who snatched Nikki.”
Torque growled.
Syre ran a hand through his hair. His phone had beeped with a text message an hour before, telling him Adrian had made an appearance in Raceport. By now, the Sentinel leader knew Lindsay Gibson was out of his safekeeping, and a search would have been mounted. They didn’t have long before it would be impossible to leave the state without Adrian finding out. If Syre hadn’t Changed Shadoe by then, nothing would save them.
“You might have to turn her first,” Torque said, “then explain later. Once she’s back to being Shadoe, she won’t have reason to hate us anymore. She’ll remember what we are to her.”
Syre moved to the adjoining door and waved them out. “Go. Both of you. Leave me alone with her.”
“That’s not wise,” Vash said. “She might try to kill you.”
“Without the lycan here to tell her what I am, how will she know?”
“You’re assuming she can’t tell. But I saw her run—watched her leap over a damn eight-foot-high wall. She’s not entirely mortal, whatever the hell she smells like.”
She smelled like Adrian, which turned Syre’s stomach. He was ready for her to know why she’d suffered all these years. He was ready for her to remember just how much Adrian’s desire had cost her.
“Then Shadoe is close to the surface in Lindsay Gibson,” he said. “And I’m safer than you give her credit for. Now go. Help Torque track the lycan. Let’s try to tie up all the loose ends we can while we’re here.”
They shuffled out the door into the connecting room, with Vash sending him a scowl over her shoulder. He turned the lock behind them, smiling. Vash hated to be bested in anything. That she’d been bested by a student of hers was chafing her mightily. If Lindsay Gibson hadn’t been the vessel carrying his daughter, she’d be dead now.
He heard the soft creak of the bedroom mattress and turned to face the door leading into it, his heart thudding violently in his chest. He’d never been this close to having her back. Adrian had always kept her close, waiting for Syre to break down and come for her. The Sentinel had no idea how many attempts Syre had made over the years. Adrian was too precise, too methodical—a machine. It was next to impossible to break his code.
But something was different this time. Something had prompted him to act rashly, to allow her out into the open, to leave her alone… It had to be Lindsay Gibson herself, and how close Shadoe was to the surface in her. Maybe that’s what Adrian had been waiting for all this time.
She appeared in the doorway, her gaze as sharp as a hawk’s. A predator’s gaze. The gaze of a huntress. It lit on him first, then swept around the relatively small space. “What are you?”
“How precise do you want me to be?”
He saw the shadow of confusion sweep across her features. She looked nothing like him, nothing like her mother or brother, whose heritage was evident in their skin tone and almond-shaped eyes. But something in her recognized him, and that perplexed her.
“Very,” she said.
“I’m Syre. A vampire”—his mouth curved gently, with genuine affection—“and your father.”
Lindsay stared at the seriously hot man standing a few feet away from her…
…and broke into peals of crazed laughter that bubbled up from the stew of emotions inside her. She laughed until tears came to her eyes and coursed down her cheeks. She laughed until her chest was racked with harsh, hiccoughing sobs.
Syre, who actually managed to look alarmed, took a tentative step toward her. She lifted up her hand to hold him off.
He stopped. The leader of the vampires, who’d somehow kidnapped her from Angels’ Point, stopped at her uplifted hand.
He deferred to her. And she knew him.
It was a quiet certainty inside her. She knew the fallen angel who stood across the room from her, looking far too young to be her father. He was gorgeous. Tall and elegant, like a Sentinel, but much darker. Definitely dangerous. Not just in his looks, although those were dark and dangerous, too. His black hair and golden skin were paired with eyes the color of toffee, making him stunning in a wholly unique way.
God, the thought of him squaring off against Adrian was insane to her. They were too evenly matched.
“Where are we?” she asked, recognizing the brand of the hotel by its signature layout but unsure of where the property was located.
“Irvine.”
“Why?”
