Sylvia Day: Heat of the Night

"Don't take it personally. They're all kind of… abrupt where Aidan comes from," Lyssa said.

"Which is where exactly?" Stacey had been trying to pin down a location for months.

"Somewhere by Scotland, I think."

"You still haven't asked him?"

"It's not important," Lyssa dismissed. "Aidan ran up to the liquor store for a six-pack, but when he gets back, he'll call and talk to Connor. I'll ask him to speak to him about proper politeness, okay?"

"Yeah, I can see that working." Stacey shook her head. "Connor's taking a nap now. Said he felt like shit or something. He showed up in some getup with a sword, looks like he came from a Star Wars convention or something."

"Oh. Crap." There was a long pause. "He's going to be sick for a bit, Stacey. Not long, several hours or overnight. He'll run a fever, get the chills."

"Huh? How do you know?" Lyssa was good, but come on. No doctor could diagnose a patient she hadn't seen or talked to.

"It's some freaky acclimation thing when they get off the plane. You know… new world and all that."

"New world?"

Lyssa cursed under her breath. "As in the-pilgrims-and-conquistador-type New World, not new world as in distant planets."

"Sure, Doc." Stacey tapped the pen against the tile countertop. "Whatever you say. Drink bottled water in Mexico, okay? I think they have nasty stuff in the taps down there."

Laughing, Lyssa said, "No worries. I'm not stoned."

"Uh huh. So, do you have a suggestion for the flu-like thing?"

"Tylenol, if he needs it. Otherwise, just let him sleep until he gets up on his own."

"That's easy enough."

"Great. Thank you for being so understanding about this. You're the best."

Stacey said good-bye with a promise to keep the handset nearby in anticipation of Aidan's phone call. Then she sat there for long moments, thinking back over her day, lingering over the moment she'd opened the front door and found Connor standing there. At least she wasn't concentrating so heavily on Justin and Tommy, but she shouldn't be thinking so hard about Connor either. She was hard up, that's all. She was not reverting to her tried-and-true pattern of being sexually attracted to a bad boy who would totally screw up her life.

Pushing off the stool, Stacey moved to the nearby dining table where her textbooks were spread out. She had finally gone back to college. The first time, she'd planned to be a writer and had been taking English and creative writing courses. Now, thirteen years later, she was fulfilling the requirements to become a veterinary technician.

She was content with that decision and proud of herself for going back to school. Dreams had to grow up just like people did. Raising a child alone had changed the nexus of her life.

That's where her focus should be. Not on the hunk in bed upstairs.

Easier said than done, of course.

The lushly curved redhead crossing the street wasn't human.

If Aidan Cross hadn't spent centuries killing Nightmares he might not have been observant enough to notice, and if he hadn't been deeply in love, he might have been more interested in the woman's body than her boots. But he was observant and firmly on the shelf, so while it was her crimson hair that caught his eye-and the eye of every other man walking the street-it was her combat boots that held his attention. They were black, self-sealing, and made of a material that didn't exist on Earth.

Aidan slowed his pace and adjusted his sunglasses to better shield his appearance. She was traversing the busy street at an angle, moving from the opposite sidewalk to the one he was walking on. He fell back, allowing more pedestrians to fill the space between them.

It was a gorgeous day in Rosarito Beach, Mexico. The sky was a pristine blue and dotted with pure white cottony clouds. Just beyond the shops to his left, the ocean kissed the shore in steady, rhythmic waves. The air was crisp and salty, the temperature warm, the breeze cool. The six-pack of Coronas he held in his hand were sweaty with condensation, and in the hotel room around the corner, his lover awaited him. Naked. Beautiful.

In danger.

He watched the Guardian-possibly an Elder-as she joined the light flow of foot traffic just a few feet ahead of him. Dressed in a short summer dress with thin straps and a flowered pattern on white, she might have looked innocent if not for the multiple tribal tattoos on her arms and the spiked leather bracelets.

Aidan rolled his shoulders back, limbering his body in preparation for battle. If the woman turned the upcoming corner and headed toward his hotel, he was ready to throw down.

Luckily for both of them, she didn't.

His relief was minimal. Every bit of his training told him to follow her and see what she was after. His heart, however, urged him to head down the small side street to his room and keep Lyssa safe. The struggle within him was worse than the one he'd been gearing up for. He hated sparring with women, detested it, but that would be easier to deal with than risking Lyssa's life.

Aidan began to cross the street that led to his hotel. He glanced to the side swiftly, scoping out the exterior of the building. Seeing nothing amiss, he clenched his jaw and kept going. He followed his quarry, ignoring the cramp in his gut that protested his decision. He couldn't go to Lyssa straightaway, regardless. It took him an average of thirty minutes to make the five-minute trip to the liquor store because of the precautions he took to make certain he wasn't followed.

Because of his anxiety, he was grateful that it wasn't long before the redhead deviated from the main street and made her way to a small dive motel that had definitely seen better days.

He fell farther behind.

When she tossed a furtive glance over her shoulder, Aidan linked arms with a nearby petite brunette and offered her a beer. His unsuspecting accomplice's surprise turned into sensual appreciation when she noted his appearance. He smiled down at her but kept his eye on the Guardian, who apparently found him innocuous enough to disregard.

"Thank you," he murmured to his companion when the redhead slipped into a room on the ground floor. Aidan noted the number on the door, then extricated himself carefully from the brunette. "Enjoy the beer."

She called after him, but he was already heading back the way he'd come. Back to Lyssa. He took a long, roundabout, and thoroughly unplanned route on the return trip to his hotel, pausing to examine various ponchos, hats, jewelry, and shot glasses displayed on tables near the street. He was acutely conscious of those who moved around and behind him. Only when he was absolutely certain he wasn't being followed, did he walk through the small open iron gate that decoratively bisected the manicured lawn of the hotel from the dusty public road.

As he stepped into their third floor room and engaged all the many locks on the door, Lyssa complained, "That took forever."

Aidan tossed his shades on the dresser by the television, set the remaining six-pack on the nightstand, and crawled over her sheet-draped body. Straddling her, he lowered his head and took her mouth, his eyes squeezing closed as relief flooded him, The vibrating anxiousness he'd felt over her safety faded when her slender arms wrapped around his neck and held him close. Her soft moan of welcome was music to his ears.

Tilting his head to better fit his mouth to hers, Aidan licked deep, his tongue sliding along hers, his senses inundated with the feel, smell, and taste of her. He growled deep in his throat as she arched upward, pressing her breasts into his chest.

"Umm…" she purred.

"Umm…" he agreed, lifting his head to nuzzle his nose against hers. Lowering to her side, he tucked her against him.

"You're not going believe what I have to tell you," she murmured.