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  He heaved a harsh sigh. “I was never going to let you be hurt.”

  Was he kidding?

  She shook her head in disgust. “Well you did.”

  He hissed, his hands skimming down to her wrists so he could tug her arms up as his gaze inspected her slender body.

  “I’ve seen the scratches on your face. Are you wounded anywhere else?”

  She jerked her wrist free and, balling her hand into a fist, she slugged him in the center of his chest.

  “You hurt me, you bastard,” she hissed.

  He tensed at her accusation. “That wasn’t my intention.”

  “No?” Ignoring all sanity, she hit him again. “Then why did you pretend to be my friend?”

  His beautiful face became wary. “I needed to be close to you.”

  “Bullshit. You’re some magical Sentinel, aren’t you?” she demanded. “You could have watched without me ever knowing you were around. Instead you—”

  “What?”

  She shuddered at the aching sense of betrayal. She was used to being teased, or more often, ignored by the opposite sex. But she’d never been so callously humiliated.

  “You let me think you liked me.”

  “Angela.”

  “God, I’m such an idiot.”

  She wrapped her arms around her waist. Hitting him only hurt her hand.

  “Don’t,” he commanded, studying her with a brooding intensity. “You’re the most brilliant person I’ve ever met.”

  “Am I?” She gave a humorless laugh. “Then why did I spend my nights fantasizing about a man who was willing to offer me up as a sacrifice to a psychopath?”

  Something dark and dangerous flared to life in his eyes. Something he’d never allowed her to see before.

  But, even as Angela took an instinctive step backward, Niko was reaching to yank her against his unyielding chest.

  Danger. Heat. Desire.

  She squawked in surprise, her mouth opening to protest his manhandling.

  And he kissed her.

  Just like that.

  His lips were hard, hungry, just as she’d always fantasized, but the brush of his tongue was a gentle caress. He pressed her closer and the feel of his thickening arousal sent a stab of excitement to the pit of her stomach.

  She moaned, her hands lifting to his shoulders as fiery heat flowed like lava through her, searing away the world where she was being hunted by a mass murderer and this man was her enemy.

  Somewhere in his lust-hazed mind, Niko knew he was behaving badly.

  Even for a man who rarely bothered himself with tedious things like good manners or proper behavior, he understood you didn’t grab a woman who was furious with you and kiss her like a Neanderthal.

  But he’d spent six long weeks denying his rampant desire for this female, pretending that she was just a pawn in his game while he used every excuse to spend time in her company.

  Now shockwaves of pleasure jolted through him, making it all blindingly clear.

  This woman wasn’t a pawn.

  She wasn’t bait.

  She was . . . his.

  His hands trailed up the delicate line of her back, his cock already hard and aching for release. He groaned, his tongue dipping between her lips to taste the warm, sweet woman who’d plagued his dreams.

  She shivered, but his hunter instincts were easily able to sense it wasn’t with fear.

  He could hear the rapid beat of her heart, feel the rush of blood beneath her satin skin and catch the scent of her stirring arousal.

  She was angry with him, but that didn’t halt her response to his touch.

  His hand swept beneath the thick curtain of her hair, cupping her nape as he deepened the kiss.

  He wanted to toss her on the bed just inches away and devour every satin inch of her. Over and over.

  Unfortunately that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

  Not only was Dylan still on the loose, but he suspected that Angela was far more innocent than most females her age.

  When he finally had her in his bed he wanted all night to demonstrate why she should remain there.

  Reluctantly lifting his head, he gazed down at her upturned face. Over the past weeks he’d memorized every line and curve of her delicate features. Not because of his Sentinel training, but because he’d been fascinated by her quiet beauty. The velvet darkness of her eyes and the lush curve of her mouth.

  He’d even learned to recognize the play of emotion over her expressive features.

  He knew when she furrowed her brow she was lost in her clever thoughts. And when she chewed her bottom lip she was feeling awkward in a conversation. And when her eyes grew dreamy she was thinking of him.

  He stroked a finger over the soft color staining her cheeks.

  “You are so beautiful.”

  She sucked in a shaky breath, her wide eyes dazed. “What are you doing?”

  His finger moved to outline her lips. How long had he’d wondered what they would taste like? It seemed an eternity.

  Now he knew.

  Cherries.

  Fresh cherries still warm from the sunshine.

  “What I wanted to do from the minute I caught sight of you.”

  She briefly allowed herself to become lost in his gaze, revealing far more of her vulnerable need than she realized. Then, obviously remembering why he was in her bedroom, oh, and the fact she currently hated him, she gave a sharp shake of her head.

  “Liar. This is some new trick to try and—”

  He kissed her again.

  Okay, maybe he was a Neanderthal. At least where Angela Locke was concerned.

  He wanted to brand her. With his touch, his kiss, his passion . . .

  He swallowed her choked groan, his hands shifting to tenderly cup her face. Slowly he savored the taste of cherries and delectable woman, his thumbs stroking over the fluttering pulse just below her jaw.

  It wasn’t until she was arching toward him in silent need that he lifted his head to meet her unfocused gaze.

  “You were right,” he murmured.

  She blinked. “I was?”

  “I could have watched you from the shadows.”

  Another blink. “Then why didn’t you?”

  He peered deep into her wide eyes. “You know why.”

  “Niko—”

  “We need to leave,” he interrupted, forcing himself to drop his hands.

  He’d been a Sentinel for a very, very long time. And never had he lost sight of his goal.

  But with this woman . . . dammit.

  He was in real danger of allowing himself to be distracted.

  Which was a perfect way to get them both killed.

  She frowned, struggling to follow his words. “Leave?”

  “Dylan hasn’t given up her obsession of becoming normal.”

  “Oh.” She pushed back her hair with an unsteady hand. “I don’t understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “Why is she so anxious to become normal? There’s a lot of people like you, isn’t there?”

  “Like us,” he corrected, knowing at some point she was going to have to accept that she was special. “And yes, there are high-bloods all over the world. But most are able to pass as common norms with a little effort.”

  She ignored his reminder she wasn’t one of the norms. Typical. In the past six weeks he’d realized that Angela was capable of ignoring any number of things. Including her less than “normal” ability to manipulate cells.

  “Is her physical appearance all that’s different about her?”

  “No.” He held her gaze. “She’s a Sentinel. Like me.”

  Her expression hardened at the reminder of his position. She might melt at his touch, but she wasn’t going to forgive anytime soon.

  “A better Sentinel than you?” she taunted.

  “No, not better than me.”

  “Then why didn’t you catch her?”

  A hell of a question.

  When he’d f
ollowed Dylan through the window he’d fully intended to hunt her down and put an end to her bloody rampage. A fine plan, but Dylan wasn’t without her own skills and she managed to disguise her trail only a few blocks away.

  Given time, Niko could have unraveled the various ruses that she’d used to hide her presence. He hadn’t been boasting when he assured Angela that he was the better Sentinel.

  But even as his duty demanded he carry on his hunt no matter how long it took, the man in him was urging him back to Angela’s apartment.

  He’d told himself that it only made sense. Dylan wasn’t going to leave without Angela. She was convinced the young scientist was her one hope of living a normal life. But in the depths of his heart he knew that wasn’t the reason he’d rushed back to the apartment.

  “I couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t circle back,” he admitted with a reluctant honesty.

  “And you were concerned for my safety?” She rolled her eyes, not able to hide her lingering sense of betrayal. “I’m touched.”

  “Dammit.”

  He’d royally screwed up. Fine, he got it. But now wasn’t the time to soothe ruffled feathers. He could defeat Dylan in a fair battle, but the Sentinel was no longer playing by the rules. Who knew what nasty surprises she might have up her sleeve? Hell, he didn’t even know for sure that she was working alone. He needed to get Angela somewhere safe.

  With a grimace at the knowledge he was about to give this woman yet another reason to be pissed off, he grabbed her around the waist and with one smooth motion had her tossed over his shoulder.

  “Hey,” she cried out, swinging her legs in an effort to hit the part of him that was as vulnerable as any man’s. “Put me down, you . . . you bully.”

  Wrapping an arm around her knees, he locked her into place before reaching down to grab her bag from the floor.

  Who knew that rescuing a damsel in distress could be such a pain in the ass?

  Chapter Five

  Angela stewed in silence as Niko headed his battered Jeep north, swiftly taking them away from the outskirts of Columbia to the farmlands that surrounded the town.

  It was always a beautiful drive. The manicured fields dissected by meandering streams. The sturdy farmhouses that were dwarfed by red-painted barns, along with sheds and paddocks.

  Today it was even more charming with the fading April sunlight offering a hint of spring and the tiny buds beginning to appear on the trees and bushes.

  Unfortunately, she was too busy glaring at the stark male profile of Nikolo Bartrev to pay attention to the passing scenery.

  He really was indecently handsome, she was forced to acknowledge, even as she considered the pleasure of punching hard enough to break his perfect nose.

  He’d lied to her, used her, and now kidnapped her.

  Okay, to be completely fair, he’d rescued her from the whacked-out freak. And she wasn’t entirely averse to having him near in case Dylan made a repeat appearance. At least until she could find someplace to hide.

  But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still mad as hell.

  Or that she wasn’t going to try to escape the very second she suspected he was about to serve her up to the wolves. Or in this case—the freaks.

  She didn’t trust him any farther than she could throw him.

  Which wasn’t very damned far.

  Her dark thoughts were interrupted as the Jeep slowed and Niko halted in front of a heavy gate that blocked the narrow gravel road. Slipping out of the vehicle, he moved to punch a series of numbers onto a computer screen that was set in a small gatehouse before returning to steer the Jeep through the open gates and down the road that was lined with massive oak trees.

  She frowned, abruptly conscious of just how isolated they were as he turned yet again and stopped in front of a picturesque log cabin that was nestled among the trees.

  The front of the A-frame house was made entirely of glass, giving a hint of the large living room with a silver sectional couch loaded with bright pillows and a spiral staircase in the middle of the planked floor leading to the open loft above.

  “What is this place?”

  He put the Jeep in park and pocketed the keys. She grimaced, belatedly wishing she’d learned how to hot-wire a car.

  Who knew it would come in handy?

  “I’ve been staying here since traveling to Missouri.”

  She blinked in surprise, her gaze returning to the house that managed to be elegant despite its rustic style.

  It looked so . . . normal.

  “Here?”

  He shoved open the door to the vehicle and stepped out. “Did you think I crawled beneath a rock every night?”

  With a shrug, she climbed out to join him on the pathway leading to the wide, wooden terrace.

  “It’s where most slimy invertebrates slither.”

  “Slimy?” His lips tugged into a lopsided grin. “Is that a scientific term?”

  Her heart skipped a treacherous beat. It was no wonder he so rarely smiled. It was lethal.

  “Personal opinion,” she managed to mutter.

  Grasping her elbow, he led her onto the terrace. Then, reaching the glass door, he paused to flip open a small, metal box and placed his hand against it to be scanned. There was a small beep before the door slid open.

  Good grief.

  This place had the sort of security she’d only seen in movies.

  Perhaps sensing her confusion, he sent her a wry smile as he urged her over the threshold and into the house.

  “I borrowed the cabin from a friend,” he said, closing the door and pressing a button that reset the lock.

  He pressed another button that did something to darken the windows. She assumed it was so they could see out, but no one could see in.

  “A Sentinel?” she guessed.

  “No, Serra is a psychic.”

  In spite of the combustible combination of fear and anger that continued to seethe through her rigid body, Angela felt an undeniable stab of curiosity.

  Hardly a big shocker.

  She was a scientist who’d been obsessed with genetics for as long as she could remember.

  “I thought most high-bloods lived together?”

  He turned to meet her searching gaze. “Most prefer the comfort, not to mention the safety, of official compounds, but psychics have a need to seek solitude on occasion.”

  “Oh.” She glanced toward the windows that offered a view of the thick woods that encircled the house. The nearest neighbor was no doubt miles away. “I never thought how annoying it must be to hear other people’s thoughts.”

  “This house belonged to Serra’s parents before they retired to Florida.” His features softened as he spoke of the psychic. “She was fortunate to have parents who remained an important part of her life. They chose this spot to give her a place of peace.”

  “Is she your lover?”

  The words left Angela’s lips before she could call them back and her face flushed with heat as he stepped toward her with a wicked smile.

  “There’s only one female I want in my bed.”

  A dangerous excitement spiraled through her at his low, husky voice, stealing her breath and making her knees weak.

  If only that were true.

  If only this intelligent, powerful, drop-dead-gorgeous man had truly been a visiting professor who’d been intrigued by me, the shy young scientist.

  Yeah, and if only pigs could fly.

  She tilted her chin, trying to pretend as if she couldn’t feel the heat of his hard, muscular, perfectly chiseled body searing through her clothes.

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  His jaw clenched, as if he was frustrated by her refusal to accept that his desire could be genuine.

  “The house has a sophisticated alarm system including hidden surveillance. It’s also less than an hour from a monastery.”

  She’d known that the monasteries had a close connection to Valhalla. Not only training the mysterious Sentinels who served as gu
ardians to the high-bloods when they traveled among the regular population, but also offering asylum for any high-blood who felt in danger.

  No one was allowed in the monastery without invitation from the monks.

  Not the cops, or military, or even the leaders of the country where the monastery was located.

  They had the mystical powers to remain impervious to politics.

  “You have business with the monks?”

  “Using teleportation will be the fastest way to reach Valhalla.”

  She took a hasty step backward. “No.”

  “There’s no need to be scared.”

  He studied her as if surprised she would be afraid of being magically transported from one place to another. As he should be. Under normal circumstances she would have been thrilled out of her mind at the opportunity to not only see inside a mysterious monastery, but to travel from portal to portal. It would be . . . amazing. But these weren’t normal circumstances and she wasn’t going to allow herself to be trapped in a place that she couldn’t be sure she could escape from.

  “I’m not scared,” she said.

  “Good.” His lips twisted. “Despite all the entertaining tales of people disappearing into outer space or arriving at the destination half-man/half-fish I can promise you that it’s perfectly safe.”

  “I meant that I’m not going to Valhalla.”

  His brows drew together at her stubborn tone. “Angela, it’s the one place Dylan can’t reach you.”

  “Oh yeah? It didn’t sound that way to me.”

  “What didn’t?”

  “You accused Dylan of killing two Sentinels before managing to escape from this supposedly ‘safe haven’,” she reminded him, shivering at the memory of the strange female. It wasn’t remotely difficult to accept she’d murdered her friends. Dylan was clearly unstable. “Now you want to plant me there like a sitting duck?” Her eyes narrowed. “Or is that the point? Am I still the bait?”

  His breath hissed between his teeth, his hand lifting to rake impatient fingers through his hair.

  “If you were the bait, I would have left you at the apartment and waited for Dylan to return,” he rasped. “Because I can assure you that she would have come for you.”

  Okay, that was true.