Edge Of Darkness

50

Unnatural speed, immense strength and heightened senses, combined with the ability to turn into some other, animal form…Elsething.

But God, this Elsething was exquisite. Was that another of his gifts? Symmetry of features so perfect it would stun his prey into submission, like cobra hypnosis? He was so painfully beautiful it was next to impossible to believe this man standing before her had wreaked the kind of havoc she’d seen in the crime scene photos on the internet, the kind of things only a monster would do. The blood—so much blood.

And how could she ever trust he wouldn’t do the same thing to her, even by accident? Maybe his bloodlust was affected by the tide or the weather or even the full moon—

In one swift motion, Christian tore open his shirt, exposing his bare, muscular chest. Buttons popped and went flying, clattering and bouncing against the floor. Suddenly imposing and large and angry, he closed the final space between them and growled, “Do it then! If you really think I would ever lift a finger to hurt you, you might as well go ahead and kill me! I won’t try to stop you.”

The hysteria rose to a peak inside her, burning bright, razor sharp. She sucked in a breath, every nerve and muscle poised to flee—

Then he reached out and gripped her arm. Ember twisted away with a high-pitched shriek that sounded like a mouse when it sees the cat in mid-pounce. But he was too fast and too strong, and she was too human. She was no match for him.

His arms came around her in a crushing tight band. She struggled against him to absolutely no avail, twisting and bucking, trying to gain release, but he only held her as she struggled, silently, patiently, until she wore herself out and sagged to the floor, her legs folding beneath her. Christian slid down behind her and continued to hold her as she gulped in lungfuls of cedar-scented air, her body wracked with tremors, her ragged breaths echoing throughout the quiet room.

“Breathe for me, little firecracker. Just breathe,” he whispered near her ear.

And she did. Shaking and hyperventilating in his arms, she did.

After a few minutes, Christian tentatively loosened his arms. Seeing she wasn’t going to make a move—she couldn’t, her muscles were frozen stiff—he peeled her soggy coat off her back and tossed it to a nearby chair. On his knees, he slid around in front of her and brushed her wet hair off her face.

“Look at me,” he said, when she didn’t lift her gaze to his. Childishly, she squeezed her eyes shut tight. “Look at me or I’m going to kiss you,” he warned.

Her lids flew open and she stared at him, wide-eyed and shivering with shock.

“You told me you wanted all of me,” he murmured, stroking a finger along her cheek. “Tell me that hasn’t changed.”

She groaned, hid her face in her hands. He pried her hands apart and forced her to look at him. “We’ll let that one go for the moment. But tell me this: why didn’t you turn me in to the police? Why didn’t you collect that big reward and end all your money troubles? You know where I live; you could have led them straight to me. But you didn’t. Why?”

His eyes searched hers, searing, haunted. She couldn’t have lied to him even if she’d wanted to. “The money?” she whispered hoarsely, shaking her head. “Christian, how could you think the money would mean anything to me? It’s you. But you didn’t even call me! All this week I had no idea what happened to you—”

“I wanted to call you, I wanted to see you—God you have no idea—but I can’t Shift when I’m injured,” he explained quietly, that finger still making slow tracings across her cheek. “I’ve been stuck in my animal form until today. I can usually heal very quickly, but this gunshot wound was nasty, my entire kneecap—”

“Gunshot!” Ember sat up stiffly, her eyes raking him for signs of injury. “Those bastards shot you?”

Amusement flickered over his face. “In the leg, yes. One of them Shifted and tried to eat me and the other one shot me. Does that make you feel better about it?”

For killing them, he was asking. Perversely, it did, and she nodded to let him know, her teeth sunk into her lower lip.

He seemed relieved at her answer. His eyes closed briefly, and when they opened again, he said, very softly, “What are you in Spain to forget?”

It was a long while before she answered him, and his eyes never wavered from her face. “Everything,” she said truthfully. Then she realized with sudden, swift horror the two of them were more alike than she’d realized.

They were both killers.

The thought made her sick to her stomach.

She staggered to her feet, a hand cupped over her mouth, nausea rising in her throat. This was too much, it was all too much, and she couldn’t think with him so close, with his scent and his dark, molten gaze—she had to get away.

“Ember, wait—stop—”

Now.