Page 16 of A Touch of Crimson
He gave her a patient look. “You should have considered that before you killed a dragon in a public place.”
“You’re the one who gave me away. Or your bodyguards did. If I hadn’t been with you, he never would have paid any attention to me. So if I’m a target, it’s your fault.”
“Regardless of who’s to blame,” he said calmly, “Elijah noticed you were being followed. There was a brief span of time while you were in the restroom when Sam’s whereabouts were unaccounted for. It’s possible he notified someone that he saw you with us. If he did, his disappearance would raise suspicions, and we’d be the first place to start looking for him.”
She frowned. “Why would a chick hanging out with you interest him or anyone else? You’re rich and hot as hell. I’m sure you’re seen with women all the time. Are you talking about him calling the paparazzi? Or more dragon dudes?”
Adrian gestured down the hallway with a graceful extension of his arm. “Let me show you to your room. You can freshen up; then we’ll talk.”
“You’ll talk,” Lindsay corrected. “I’ll listen.”
His hand came to rest at the small of her back, and she felt the power thrumming through him—tremendous energy restrained by a cyclonic force of will that awed her. He was something different in this place. The power she’d felt in him from the beginning was sharper, more refined. Or perhaps it was just more apparent. Perhaps he made it so deliberately. Either way, the agitation he’d exuded in the Maybach was tightly leashed now.
Why would he betray that disquiet to her, a stranger, but restrain it in his own home, where he should feel the most comfortable?
She looked around and realized they weren’t alone. There were others with them: more muscular guys, as well as some who were elegantly built like Adrian. A few women, too—all were stunning enough to rouse feelings of jealousy and possessiveness. All together, there were a dozen spectators hanging around the fringes of the room, sizing her up with examining and somewhat hostile glances.
She pushed her hand into her messenger bag and wrapped her fist around the hilt of a second blade. She was outnumbered by a huge margin and, as a human, definitely underpowered. Her pulse raced with foreboding.
“Lindsay—” Adrian’s hand encircled her other wrist, and instantly her heartbeat slowed, calm radiating outward from the place where he touched her. “You don’t need those. This is the safest place on earth for you. No one will harm you here.”
“I would make it as difficult as possible,” she promised, speaking to the room at large. A possibly empty threat, considering she had no idea what the hell she was dealing with.
“Be careful. You’re mortal. Fragile.”
She shot him an arch glance. She could hold her own against any other “mortals,” even men triple her size. For Adrian to call her “fragile” reaffirmed her belief that, whatever he was, he was powerful in a way she hadn’t known existed.“We still haven’t established what you are.”
He exhaled, relenting. “You spoke of vampires. What other creatures do you know of?”
“Dragons. Thanks to you.”
He released her and stepped back. “If there were angels, would they be the good guys or the bad?”
Lindsay’s mind spun. Angels had a biblical connotation, and she’d turned her back on religion long ago. She’d had to. She got too pissed off thinking about anyone having the ability to prevent her mother’s death, yet doing nothing.
She forced her tense shoulders to relax. “Depends on whether or not they were actively killing the vampires and dragons.”
Sleek tendrils of smoke drifted up from behind him. The mist spread outward, taking on the shape and substance of wings—pure, pristinely white wings touched with crimson tips, as if he’d trailed the edges through freshly spilled blood.
Lindsay stumbled backward, barely catching herself with a hand against the wall. The purity of his true form threatened to blind her. Power emanated from him with a warm, tangible radiance; she felt as if she were basking in the noonday sun.
Tears stung her eyes, and her knees weakened. The hallway spun with a terrible sense of déjà vu, millisecond flashes of Adrian with wings. Different clothes…altered hair length…various backdrops…
For a moment, she feared she would pass out. And then it all coalesced into one thought: an angel.
Shit. She was so far removed from piety that the concept existed in a totally different universe. Even now—presented with his wings and glorious golden glow—what she felt was less about reverence and more about primitive, sinful lust. If anything, she’d grown more enamored with Adrian as his wings unfurled, because seeing him without his facade exposed him as openly as she’d exposed herself in the store.
She’d been peculiar all her life. Faster, stronger, capable of sensing minute changes in the wind that told her when something wrong was nearby. As a child, she’d often felt like a mutant, always having to be conscious of how quickly she moved. The past decade had been spent trying to be “normal” while hunting dangerous things to kill. She’d given up hope of having a serious romantic relationship. The need to hide an integral part of herself had left her utterly alone in the most fundamental of ways.
Now she faced someone who knew she was different. Someone who just might accept her being that way because he was different, too. She’d been unable to confide in anyone about the underworld she knew existed. But Adrian knew…
“You were going to let that dragon walk away!” she accused, shielding her sudden vulnerability behind anger. Just by knowing that she hunted, Adrian knew her—in a deeply intimate way that no one else did. He was suddenly precious to her for that reason, this ethereal being of impossible beauty.
“Your safety was my primary concern.”
“I can take care of myself. You should have taken care of him.”
“I only hunt vampires,” he said smoothly. “And as I said, he was a dragon.”
