Page 70 of A Touch of Crimson
“He was ambushed and left for dead. It took him a couple of days to make it to the highway, where he was found.”
“Jesus,” she breathed. “Was it vamps?”
Elijah gave a curt nod and gestured for her to turn left up ahead.
“Fuckers. I want to kill them all.” Even as Lindsay said the words, the depth of hatred in them surprised her.
Her life had changed so much in the past couple of weeks. Vampires were now hurting her friends, and they were responsible for making it impossible for her to have Adrian. She couldn’t think of one good reason for them to exist. They were like fleas or mosquitoes—disgusting, worthless, bloodsucking parasites that were better off extinct.
She pulled up to the wrought-iron gate and gatehouse that protected the Point. The guard took one look at Elijah and let them in.
It was midafternoon. The sun was still high in the sky, affording her the opportunity to check out all she’d missed the first time she’d driven through the elegant gate. The wolves stayed on the other side of a rise in the road, keeping themselves hidden from public view. When she crested the top, she saw them dotting the native landscape. So many of them. So majestic and imminently dangerous.
Pulling around the circular driveway, she parked. She tried to expel some of her tension with a swift, audible exhalation.
Elijah was out of the car in a controlled yet powerful rush of movement, opening her door before she had released her seatbelt. He waited until she climbed out, then pointed to a large hangar-like building set atop a hill about half a mile away. “I’ll be there. You can come up when you’re done grabbing your things, or wait for me here. If I’m more than an hour, I’ll send word.”
Lindsay caught his arm before he turned away.
He stared down at her hand, which she pulled back quickly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to put my scent on you. I just— I’m sorry about your friend, Elijah.”
His gaze lifted to hers, and his features softened. “I know you are. Thank you.”
“If you need anything, I’m here for you.” She offered a commiserating smile, then headed toward the double-door entrance. She’d just lifted her hand to knock when the door opened.
“Ms. Gibson.”
A tall, sinewy male filled the doorway. His hair was long, hanging past his shoulders. He brought to mind a Viking warrior of old, grim-faced and resolute.
Lindsay hesitated. “Hi. I just need to grab my stuff; then I’ll get out of here.”
He stared at her for a moment, assessing her in a way that suggested he found her lacking. Then he gestured her in.
She knew he was an angel. All the Sentinels had the same flame blue eyes, although only Adrian’s ever gave off heat. The Sentinels were works of art, really. It was rather intimidating being surrounded by dozens of perfect, gorgeous beings.
Since the redhead declined to say anything further, Lindsay headed straight for the bedroom she’d used when she’d spent the night. Everything looked the way she had left it—the bed was made, and her toiletries were neatly arranged on the bathroom counter. When she’d last walked out of the room, almost two weeks earlier, she had expected to be back that night. The loss of what she might have had if she could’ve joined Adrian’s world tightened her throat and made it hard to swallow.
In hindsight, the plans she’d made to live in this sumptuous space, with its balcony that led to a deck where she could watch angels take flight with the sunrise, and its owner, who was the most magnificent creature on earth, seemed preposterous. But she’d held the dream for a moment, and she missed it terribly.
Lindsay looked at the bed as she moved past it, remembering how she’d fantasized about seducing Adrian there. Her imagination in that regard had been especially vivid, yet nowhere near as raw and searing as the real deal had turned out to be.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” she muttered, fighting the fierce desire to stay—forever. Fighting the aching longing to embrace the angel, his life, and the possible friends—like Elijah—who would understand what drove her.
Packing in record time, Lindsay grabbed the handle of her suitcase and wheeled it out of the house. She had to pass a large number of Sentinels who’d crawled out of the woodwork to get a look at her. She now understood why they eyed her the way they did. She was the interloping human who was fucking with their leader’s head. Despite their palpable animosity, she paused on the threshold of the open front door and faced them.
“I’m rooting for you guys,” she said. She wanted to ask them to take care of Adrian for her, but she didn’t have the right to do so. He belonged to them, not her.
The front door shut behind her with a soft click of finality. She didn’t cry; she refused. She would not feel sorry for herself for doing the right thing for Adrian. For the world, actually, which was dependent on him but didn’t know it.
Popping open her trunk, she collapsed the telescoping handle of her suitcase and lifted the carry-on from the ground. The wind kicked up, swirling in a funnel that encompassed only her. She was held motionless in the churning embrace.
Stay, stay, stay, it crooned.
“I’ve caused enough trouble,” she shot back.
Don’t go, Lindsay. Lindsay… Lindsay… The wind ceased abruptly, leaving a vacuum in which her name cracked like a whip.
“Lindsay.”
