Page 13 of A Touch of Crimson
Power rippled down Adrian’s spine and spread outward, disabling the security cameras in the store with an electrical surge. Elijah bared his canines in a savage snarl.
“Call off your dog and bitch, seraph,” the demon hissed behind him. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“Bullshit,” Lindsay snapped. “I can feel the evil in you.”
Adrian made a quarter turn, affording him a simultaneous view of both Lindsay and the creature she was bristling at—a dragon whose hands flexed beside his thighs, preparing to expel the considerable firepower Adrian sensed in him. As far as demons went, he was merely a nuisance to a being of Adrian’s age and power, but the rapaciousness with which he regarded Lindsay and the disrespect he showed her was intolerable.
“If you apologize to the lady for your rudeness,” Adrian said softly, “I might refrain from eviscerating you.”
“Fuck.” The dragon held up both hands, his eyes darting. “I’m sorry, lady. Just tell her to stand down, seraph, and I’ll walk out of here.”
The demon’s mortal guise was that of a sandy-haired, ponytailed teenager in baggy clothing with a name badge that read Sam, but a reptilian coldness in his gaze betrayed a far darker interior. Dragons were a nasty class of demon, prone to terrorizing mortals for sport before making a snack of them. But this guy was Raguel’s problem; Adrian had bigger game to hunt.
Adrian flicked his wrist dismissively, already bored with the delay. “Go.”
“I think not,” Lindsay growled.
A streak of silver raced past Adrian’s eyes. His gaze followed with equal speed.
For an instant, the dragon swayed with a throwing dagger protruding from his forehead and his mouth agape in a frozen look of disbelief. Then his body disintegrated into embers, falling into a pile of ash half the height of the man. The suddenly anchorless blade cut through the debris and clattered to the floor amid a stunned silence.
Adrian crouched and picked up the small knife, which shouldn’t have been able to wipe out a dragon; the breed had an impenetrable hide. If Sam had suspected for even an instant that he was under attack, he would have shifted to protect himself. But Lindsay had blindsided him as well as Adrian.
A hot surge of desire rocked Adrian back on his heels, followed swiftly by the fury of a man who’d just watched his reason for breathing put herself in incalculable danger. He stood and looked at her.
She returned his gaze with a tight smile. “Looks like we both have some explaining to do.”
5
“Are you planning on using that?”
Lindsay fingered one of the throwing knives she carried in her messenger bag and made no apologies. When they’d deplaned at John Wayne Airport, she’d met Adrian’s guards and had realized they weren’t human. They also weren’t inhuman or evil, because she would have felt it if they were—just as the clerk at the grocery store had caught her eye like a neon sign. To be safe, she’d grabbed her arsenal sack the moment her suitcase appeared on the luggage carousel.
She shrugged, deliberately affecting a nonchalance that mirrored his. “It calms me to have it in hand.”
She’d been slaying malevolent nonhuman…beings since she was sixteen and had long since stopped losing sleep over it. What was eating at her now was Adrian. That heinous thing in the grocery store had known him—had deferred to him—had shown fear when Adrian threatened him. While she, batshit crazy as she was, found herself feeling safer around Adrian than she had at any time since she was five years old.
God… She knew how to look away, how to wait for prime opportunities. She knew where Sam worked; she could have gone back at a better time and taken him down in privacy. Instead, she had exposed herself as completely as if she’d ripped off her clothes.
She had done it because she couldn’t not do it. She’d been too young to save her mother, but in the years since, she had sworn she would never stand by and watch another innocent die. The look in Sam’s eyes as he backed up was one she knew: he was spoiling for trouble. No way in hell could she let him leave in that frame of mind. She’d never stop wondering who ended up bearing the brunt of his humiliation and frustration, and whether she could have prevented the consequences.
“It calms you to carry a weapon,” Adrian repeated, studying her from his seat beside her. His sleek black Maybach purred up the side of a hill, following a winding road that left the city behind.
“What are you?” Her heart was beating too fast, forcing her to acknowledge how wound up she was. With rigid focus, she made her brain stop spinning around what she didn’t understand.
She couldn’t slide back toward that dark precipice in her mind, that place where insanity whispered along her subconscious like a lover. Her childhood therapist considered her one of his greatest successes. He thought she was remarkably well adjusted for a woman who’d witnessed the brutal murder of her mother at the tender age of five.
He didn’t know that when the foundation of her reality had been torn from her, she’d forged a new one. An existence where creatures with inexplicable powers worked in grocery stores and ripped open the throats of parents in front of their children. She’d become a warrior in that world of black and white, that world of humans and vicious inhumans.
Yet Adrian and his bullet catchers made a lie of what she’d come to accept as the truth. What was he? What was she? Where did she fit in a construct where beings who weren’t inhuman also weren’t evil?
Lindsay swallowed past the lump of uncertainty and confusion clogging her throat.
Adrian’s lips pursed so slightly that the action was almost imperceptible. The hot, pulsing energy charging the air around him was totally at odds with his insolently apathetic demeanor. He sprawled elegantly in the bucket seat, sleekly graceful and inherently lethal.
When Adrian had issued that softly voiced threat to Sam, she hadn’t blamed the whatever-the-fuck-he-was for looking like he was going to piss himself. While there hadn’t been even the tiniest fissure in Adrian’s composure, he had felt like a tornado to her, a violent and sweeping, unstoppable force of destruction.
If death had a face, it was Adrian’s when he was pissed: a terror made more horrifying by its impossible beauty.
