Page 39 of A Touch of Crimson
“So are you looking for your soul mate?” she asked. “Does it work like that? Only one person in the world for you sort of thing?”
“No. No. And no.”
“I hear ya. This is the wrong kind of life to want any sort of long-term relationship. I threw out that possibility a long time ago.” The wind whipped through her hair. “We’re close.”
He looked at her. “Care to explain the crazy gusts of wind that follow you?”
“We’re in a place called Hurricane. What do you expect?” She jerked her chin at a rocky hill across the street; then she darted across the road at full speed.
Elijah stayed directly on her heels. “Lycans sense danger in the air before we catch scent of it,” he pressed.
She still considered her weather radar too personal and too revealing to share. She wasn’t sure what exactly it revealed, but it said something about her she’d rather keep to herself—for now.
Her hand slid under the flap of her messenger bag and gripped the hilt of a throwing knife. They passed some sort of monument, a stone pillar with a brass plaque. There were small homes fanning out in a horseshoe behind it. Old homes from the fifties or earlier.
“Do you scent equally well in both forms?” she asked, raking the area with an examining gaze.
The next minute, she was bumped in the thigh, drawing her attention to a massive chocolate-colored wolf beside her. She supposed that answered her question.
“Wow.” She was seriously impressed. “How did you do that so fast? And where are your clothes?”
He gave her a look that she pegged as exasperated.
“Fine,” she conceded, reaching out to touch his fur to see if it was soft or coarse. It turned out to be somewhere between the two. The lustrous cocoa pelt was relieved by patches of white on his chest and paws, making the overall package both beautiful and regal. “You’re a really good-looking wolf, you know.”
Elijah snorted.
Lindsay moved forward, noting how still the air had suddenly become. Almost stagnant. Protecting her by not blowing the scent of lycan and angel around. Somehow, she knew the angels had taken the high ground. She didn’t look up, but she suspected they were on the hilltop above her.
“I’m thinking basement,” she said, to which Elijah chuffed in agreement.
They moved forward, circling around the horseshoe. An elderly lady sat in a swinging bench on a covered porch. She smiled and waved as they passed, apparently not the least bit concerned by the humongous canine beside Lindsay. Considering the thickness of the woman’s glasses, Lindsay assumed she couldn’t see all that well. It was the only explanation—aside from senility—for dismissing a pony-sized wolf prowling around.
A gravel path marked by two squat brick lampposts appeared before them in the space between two homes. They followed it around the hill. At the end was a surprise—a home marked by Greek revival architecture and a dilapidated bed-and-breakfast sign.
An icy breeze caressed the back of her neck. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she groused aloud.
While it was obvious the building was no longer in use as lodging, it retained a dignity and style that belied its use as a vampire “nest.” A gardener and a fresh coat of paint were all that was needed to spruce up the exterior.
As they neared the small opening in the brick fence surrounding the property, a massive shadow and the flap of wings announced Adrian’s graceful landing in front of her. “That’s far enough, Lindsay.”
Her brows rose. “Think nothing of it. Glad I could help.”
His features softened. “Thank you.”
Jason and Damien landed on the other side of the fence in the front yard. To the right was the hill. Behind them, about a half mile away, were the road and the horseshoe-shaped street of vintage homes. To the left were acres and acres of undeveloped land. The nest was hiding in plain sight. Not that Lindsay was overly surprised. The things she killed were usually normal-looking on the exterior. Freakishly so.
She hung back, staying a good twenty feet away from the fence. Elijah sank onto his haunches beside her. The angels moved forward—Adrian in the middle, Jason to the left, and Damien to the right. Two more wolves appeared, startling her. She wondered where they’d come from, then remembered the two drivers, one for each town car. Or a lycan for every angel. One was a mixture of charcoal gray and white, and the other was a rusty brown and taupe. Both panted softly, as if they were barely containing their eagerness.
Yet the three beasts surrounded her. Leaving the angels to fend for themselves.
She reached down and stroked Elijah’s huge head in silent gratitude. The other two took up positions behind him, giving him the lead. Only his ears and eyes moved. Although his stance appeared casual, she knew he could explode into powerful movement in the blink of an eye. All the hunter traits she’d observed in him as a human were multiplied in his lupine form.
Her attention moved to the angels, who approached the house with their wings flexing at their backs. That surprised her. Why expose such a vulnerability when they weren’t flying? Jason and Damien might be able to retreat by air if they were capable of taking off vertically, but Adrian was on the porch, caged in by two-story-high columns and an overhanging gallery.
Adrian entered the house through the front door, while the other two found alternate ways in that Lindsay couldn’t see from her vantage. Quiet blanketed the area. She shifted from one foot to the other, twirling a throwing blade in one hand. “I have a really bad feeling about this.”
The wind screeched across the vacant plain, making the fine hairs on her arms stand up. Then all hell broke loose.
