Alexandra Ivy: Predatory

Easily sensing Niko’s distraction, Arel leaned against the railing.

“Is she the real deal?”

“Yeah, she’s the real deal.” Niko forced himself to shift his attention back to his companion. Until Dylan was dead he couldn’t afford to be distracted. Especially not by this particular female. “Calder intended to bring her to the compound after she graduated.”

“Why wait?”

“He wanted the female to enjoy being normal for as long as possible.”

Arel gave a grunt of laughter. “He’s always been too softhearted for his own good.”

“You won’t get an argument from me.”

“While you’re a coldhearted Sentinel who’s willing to use an innocent female as bait for a psycho killer.”

Arel’s words rasped a raw nerve that Niko didn’t even know he possessed until he’d crossed paths with the pretty young scientist who’d slayed him with one shy smile.

Dammit.

Angela Locke was a pawn.

And like any pawn she was supposed to be expendable.

So why had he spent the past six weeks imagining her stretched beneath him as he taught her the true meaning of biology?

He swallowed a low growl. “I get results.”

“True enough . . .” Arel’s words ended with a low whistle as the frantic music ended and Angela turned to reveal her slender curves so shockingly revealed by those too-tight jeans and the shirt that should be illegal. Damn, Megan. It had to be her influence. “Hellooo. You didn’t say anything about her being a beauty.”

“Because it has nothing to do with the job,” he snapped.

Arel smiled with a slow anticipation. “Hey, if you don’t want to bed her, I will.”

Niko hissed at his unexpected surge of fury. He was never possessive of women. Not even when they were his lovers.

It had to be this job.

He was . . . on edge. Anxious to find Dylan and make her pay for what she’d done to Fiona.

That had to be it.

Feeling the weight of Arel’s all-too-knowing gaze, he sent his fellow Sentinel a scowl.

“Don’t you have someplace you have to be?”

A mysterious smile played around the younger man’s lips. “Yes, but I don’t mind changing assignments.”

“Go away, Arel.”

Arel chuckled before he placed a hand on Niko’s shoulder. “Take care. I’ve already lost two friends. I won’t lose another.”

Usually the small apartment three blocks away from the campus was a place of peace for Angela.

Not that anyone else would share her opinion.

Most people would shudder at the worn furniture that she’d picked up at second-hand stores and garage sales. Not to mention the bedroom that was overflowing with unpacked boxes from her mother’s house. Boxes that were filled with painful memories she wasn’t prepared to open.

And oh yeah, a kitchen that had become a mini-lab with microscopes, petri dishes, test tubes, and three small fridges that contained her current experiments.

Hardly the palace most women dreamed of.

But for Angela it was far better than a palace.

It was her safe haven.

The moment she closed the door she could forget the day, along with the frustrating challenge of trying to fit in a world that always seemed slightly out of focus.

Today, however, there was no peace as she shut and locked the door.

Pacing across the living room, she peeked through the curtains at the empty street below.

It had started this morning.

She’d spent the entire day with the sensation she was being watched by some unseen lurker.

And she laid full blame on the shoulders of Dr. Nikolo Bartrev.

Not because of his abrupt arrival and equally abrupt departure from the club last night, although the aggravating man had taken away any hope of enjoying the night. Oh, she’d gone through the routine for Megan’s sake. She’d danced, she’d sipped her gin fizz, and laughed on cue, but the evening had gone flat.

No, she was used to wishing for things she could never have.

It was his warning of a mysterious stalker that had her jumping at shadows.

Seeing nothing but the usual joggers and occasional car drive past, she gave a shake of her head.

What had she expected?

A stranger wearing a hockey mask and lurking on the sidewalk?

Or maybe a car in the parking lot with a sign that said STALKERS “R” US?

“This is stupid,” she muttered, stepping away from the window and heading into the kitchen.

Spring break had officially started. Classes were out, the majority of the students were even now fleeing town for warmer climes, and she would have a blessed, uninterrupted week to work on her private research.

No doubt Megan would toss her hands up in defeat, but as far as Angela was concerned she’d rather be concentrating on her work than wasting her days on an overcrowded beach.

Okay, maybe if the beach included Professor Hottie she might consider—

Entering the kitchen, Angela came to a halt, a strange sense of alarm tingling down her spine.

Someone had been in here.

She didn’t know exactly how she could be so certain. Perhaps the microscope had been shifted ever so slightly. Or maybe there was a lingering scent she didn’t quite recognize.

Whatever the cause, her vague unease became full on, adrenaline-charging alarm as she whirled around, intent on fleeing the apartment.

A wise decision that came too late.

She barely managed a step before the door was blocked by a slender figure.

Angela’s heart slammed to a halt as she took a swift inventory of the intruder.

The stranger wasn’t much taller than her, and was dressed from head to toe in black. Black leather pants. Black turtleneck sweater. Black ski mask.

Good grief. Did stalkers have a uniform code?

She swallowed a hysterical urge to laugh, sternly reminding herself that she was in danger.

Despite the fact the intruder was more or less the same size as herself and clearly female, she wasn’t fooled. Beneath the tight clothes she could make out hard, lean muscles that warned the intruder could tie Angela into a painful pretzel.

Or worse.

“Who are you?” she managed to croak, her mind sluggishly trying to shift through her limited options.

No. Not limited.

Nonexistent.

Her cell phone was in her purse that she’d left in the living room. There was no doubt a knife was tucked in her silverware drawer, but it was across the room. And there was nothing close enough at hand to use as a weapon.

For now her options were talking her way out of danger or hoping for a miracle.

Neither seemed likely.

Casually leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb the intruder revealed she was in far better control of her nerves than Angela.

“Would you believe a friend?”

“No.”

A nonchalant shrug. “Then let’s say I’m a potential customer.”

“Customer?” Angela frowned before she gave a small gasp of understanding. “Oh. I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. But I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake.”

The woman adjusted her black glove. Preparing for violence?

“I rarely make mistakes,” she drawled. Her voice was oddly beautiful. Almost hypnotic.

Angela licked her lips, flicking a brief glance toward the expensive equipment that was piled on the kitchen table.

“I know it must look like I manufacture drugs, but I’m just a scientist,” she said, her palms damp. Had the temperature gone up? Or was it sheer terror that was making her feel as if her sweatshirt and jeans were smothering her? “There’s nothing here that will get you high.”

“Just a scientist?” The stranger gave a chiding shake of her head. “Now, now, Angela. There’s no need for such modesty. You’re already considered the brilliant star in the world of genetics.”