Page 9 of A Touch of Crimson
“Your death will take care of that.”
Adrian would forever curse the weakness that had driven him to Syre when Shadoe was fatally wounded. He’d mistakenly believed the Fallen leader’s love for his child would ensure he would act in her best interests, but Syre’s thirst for vengeance was as all-consuming as his thirst for blood. He would do anything to prevent his daughter from bringing happiness to the Sentinel who’d punished him.
He’d attempted to turn her into a vampire like himself—a soulless, bloodsucking creature who would have to live in darkness for eternity—rather than allow her to love Adrian with her mortal soul.
Once Adrian had realized Syre’s intent, he’d stopped the Change, with unforeseen consequences—her body had died, but her naphil soul had been immortalized. The partial Change had caused Shadoe to return again and again in an endless cycle of reincarnation because, unlike a mortal, her soul was half-angelic yet independent of wings. Mortal souls died with the Change, and angel souls died with the loss of their wings, but the nephalim had neither vulnerability.
When Shadoe’s body had been prevented from completing the transformation, her naphil soul survived to remain tied to the individual who’d sired her into vampirism. Killing her father should free her by severing Syre’s hold on her soul; only the vampire who initiated a Change could complete it.
But time was Adrian’s enemy. He had only Lindsay’s uncertain life span in which to work. It was a terribly small window for an immortal.
“Selfish bastard,” the vampire hissed. “You would rather Shadoe die than live forever.”
“And you would rather she suffer your punishment, even though she doesn’t deserve it. You broke the law, not her.”
“Didn’t she, though, Adrian? She lured you to fall as well.”
“The decision was mine. Therefore, the fault is mine.”
“Yet you don’t suffer as we do.”
“I don’t?” Adrian challenged softly. “How would you know what I suffer, Syre?”
He looked at Lindsay again. She watched him from her seat with those dark eyes that seemed to catch everything. They were far too worldly for a person of her age.
Her brows arched in silent inquiry.
He affected a reassuring smile. She was as attuned to him as he was to her, but she couldn’t recall the history between them that had created the affinity. He would have to take care not to cause her concern or distress. His mercurial emotions were a sign of how far he’d fallen. They were a testament to how human his love for her had made him.
The heavens lamented his mortal weakness through the weather—raining when he mourned, thundering when he raged, the temperature fluctuating with the heat or chill of his moods.
“You covet her soul,” Syre purred, “because it’s the one thing that binds her to you.”
“And to you.”
“Yet you won’t let me bring her into full awareness. Why is that, Adrian? What are you afraid of? That she’ll weaken you all over again?”
Nearby, the defiant young boy kicked his mother in the shin. She cried out. The startled baby in her arms flailed backward. Off balance and clearly beyond frustrated, the frazzled young woman lost her grip on the child.
Adrian rushed forward, forcing himself to move at a natural human pace?—
—but Lindsay caught the infant first. Too swiftly. So damn swiftly it seemed as if the baby had never been in danger of hitting the floor at all. The mother blinked, her open mouth betraying her confusion at finding Lindsay directly in front of her instead of seated a few feet away.
“Don’t forget,” Syre continued, “that soul you prize is clawing to the surface with every incarnation, whether I help it along or not. Can you get to me before my daughter regains sentience? What will Shadoe think of you when it all comes back to her and she remembers the pain of the many lives you’ve cost her? Will she still love you then?”
“I don’t forget anything. I certainly won’t forget what you owe me for the losses I’ve been dealt today.”
Adrian killed the call, his focus narrowing on the woman who’d just revealed a colossal complication with her preternatural speed. Shadoe’s naphil gifts were strong in Lindsay, suggesting a deeper entwining of the two women than had been manifested in previous incarnations.
He was running out of time. Souls grew in power with age and experience. It was an inescapable fact that Shadoe would one day have the strength to overpower the soul of the vessel she occupied.
None of them was prepared for that.
Shoving the phone in his pocket, Adrian closed the distance between them.
Adrian Mitchell had immaculate feet.
From her ridiculously comfortable seat in first class, Lindsay stared at the end of Adrian’s long, stretched-out legs and realized she’d never paid much attention to a man’s feet before. Usually, she thought they were ugly: callused skin, crooked toes, absently trimmed and yellowed nails. Not Adrian’s. His feet were flawless in every way. In fact, everything about him was precisely symmetrical and expertly crafted. It was arresting how perfect he was.
