Sylvia Day - A Touch of Crimson

Lindsay stepped into her room, but hesitated just beyond the threshold. She spoke over her shoulder. “It probably wouldn’t.”

Adrian arched a brow in silent query.

“Deter me,” she clarified.

He was smiling when she closed the door.

“You’re going to teach her how to hunt her own family? Her friends?” Jason asked, following Adrian into his office.

“She’s already doing that.” Adrian rounded the desk. “And she’d continue with or without us. This way, I’m giving her a chance to survive.”

Jason whistled. “After all these years, you’re still an angel.”

“Did you doubt it?”

“No. But there are some who wonder if Syre’s daughter makes you… human.”

Not Shadoe herself, but his love for her. Mortal love was not for angels, whose objectivity must be absolute. “Those who have doubts should take them to the Creator. I need the trust of everyone in this unit. If I’ve lost it, I’ve lost my usefulness.”

“You’re well loved, Captain. I can’t think of one Sentinel who wouldn’t consider it an honor to die for you.”

Adrian settled into his chair. “As I consider it an honor to lead you all. It’s a responsibility I don’t take lightly.”

“It’s just hard not to feel restless.” Jason scrubbed a careless hand through his blond hair. “Our job is to babysit the Fallen forever. ‘They shall never obtain peace and remission of sin. They shall petition forever, but shall not obtain mercy.’ Sometimes the punishment seems as much ours as theirs.”

“So be it. We have our orders.”

“And that’s everything to you.”

“As it should be for you. What are we, if not Sentinels?”

Jason hesitated a moment, then smiled sheepishly.

“Right.” Adrian returned the conversation to his immediate concern. “I want Lindsay put into the training rotation as soon as possible.”

“How? She’s as fragile as an eggshell. She may hold her own with other mortals-maybe even a vampire or lycan with the element of surprise-but hand-to-hand with a Sentinel? Very few beings can survive that.”

“We all know our own strength. It’ll be good for us to pay more attention to how we use it.”

“At what cost?”

“She’ll be an asset.” Adrian swiveled his chair around, absently noting the lightening of the sky that signaled the coming dawn. “No one sees her coming. That stealth can be useful to us in a variety of ways.”

“Use her as bait?”

“As a distraction.”

“She’ll definitely be that.”

Adrian addressed the slightly mocking note he heard in his lieutenant’s tone. “Do you have a problem with your orders?”

The smile left Jason’s face. “No, Captain.”

“In the last forty-eight hours, the two highest-ranking Sentinels were attacked. You saw the minion on the helicopter-she was diseased-and Damien mentioned possible illness in his report on Phineas’s attack. I’ve ordered updates from all the Sentinels in the field. I want you to sift through them as they come in and see if there are similar mentions there.”

“What are you thinking?”

“One or more of the Fallen is giving their blood to enable these minions to come after us in daylight. Syre called me about the pilot, so he was aware of her location, but he sounded genuinely surprised by my assertion that I was attacked unprovoked. He suggested that it wasn’t in her nature to make such a move.”

“You know you can’t trust him. He jacked her up with some kind of drug, then called to see how you fared in your run-in with her. How else would he know she was with you?”

“Right. That was my thought from the beginning-that he was playing innocent to dodge the blame. We both know he wouldn’t call me about just any vamp, so his interest alone speaks to his guilt. But when I mentioned the attack on Phineas, he didn’t say a word. I didn’t expect him to take responsibility for it, but the lack of any acknowledgment whatsoever…? No denial, no questions to fake ignorance, nothing? I find that really fucking strange. He can’t trust me any more than I can trust him, so he’d never admit that his control over the Fallen is slipping. Maybe he’s feigning cluelessness about the attacks, but if he’s not and he really has no idea what’s going on, there could be a cabal or even a coven of vampires out there who are setting us up to war with one another. They can’t take Syre down, but they know I can and that I will if he’s gone rogue, which would leave the field wide-open for a coup.”

Jason’s brows rose. “Hoping you’ll do the heavy lifting? Fuckin’ A. It would be poetic justice if we completed our mission because of a vampire revolt.”

Adrian had ceased to think in terms of justice and injustice long ago. “I need to know if Syre is behind these attacks or not. Regardless of his culpability or innocence, we can use the information to weaken his hold on the Fallen. Either he’s deliberately jeopardizing their dreams of redemption or he’s jeopardizing them through neglect. Neither is helping their cause.”

“Their hopeless cause. You want to turn the Fallen against Syre?”

“Why not? As you said, a revolt would benefit us. Especially if he’s making it easy to incite one.”

“I’m on it.” Jason left.

Adrian decided a workout was what he needed to shed his lingering restlessness. Lindsay would wake soon. He needed to have a clear mind to solidify his plans for her before then.

Lindsay stirred from her dreams before she was ready. Part of her mind still clung to sleep, longing for another touch of wickedly knowledgeable hands, another whisper of firm lips across her throat, another brush of silky white and crimson wings…

Her eyes opened on a soundless gasp, her heart racing and her skin hot. She was painfully aroused, her thoughts filled with flame blue eyes and raw, sexual words spoken in a purring voice of sin.

Scrubbing a hand over her face, she kicked the covers off and stared at the exposed wood beams above her head. Her future had taken a monumental detour when she’d caught Adrian Mitchell’s eye. Her life had been so black and white before-get up, go to work, come home, and in between kill anything that set off alarm bells. Now everything was so complicated.

Lindsay rolled out of bed and crossed the massive bedroom to a private bath that was the size of her old apartment back home. There was a fireplace by the bathtub and a stunning mosaic in a shower that had six showerheads. She’d never even stayed in a hotel as luxurious, yet she felt comfortable and at ease. Despite the opulence, the overall effect was soothing. The soft yellow and blue palette kept the space light and airy, a look she gravitated to because her life could be so dark.

After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she returned to the bedroom and found her gaze drawn to the unadorned wall of windows facing the west. The view was of rocky hills covered in dry native brush. The vista inspired feelings of remoteness and isolation, but she knew the city wasn’t far away.

She dressed, pulling on a pair of yoga pants and a ribbed tank top.

“Don’t get used to this,” she warned herself, even as she walked toward the windows. As she neared, the huge center pane slid leisurely to one side, opening the way for her to step out onto the wide deck. The morning air was cool and crisp, luring her outside. Clutching the wood railing in a white-knuckled grip, she took a deep breath and absorbed the enormity of her change in circumstance. The sun rose at her back and a soft breeze buffeted her from the front. Below, two more tiers of the house jutted over a steep craggy drop, but she couldn’t look for more than a moment, her fear of heights kicking in with a vengeance.