Sylvia Day - A Touch of Crimson

Lindsay found Elijah waiting by the couch, standing with his arms crossed. He was a big, formidable presence. His olive green T-shirt and loose-fitting jeans did little to hide the power of his body. There was such a sense of solidness and steadfastness to him; he was the kind of guy you could trust with your life. He reminded her of Adrian in that respect. Adrian, too, was august and stalwart in an extraordinary way. The feeling he gave of anchoring her was the most difficult aspect of him to resist. She desired him, she liked him, she trusted him. And when she was with him, she felt peaceful, which was a state of being the vampires had stolen from her that long-ago nightmarish day.

Adrian had given her equanimity back to her. But to return the favor, she had to let him go. As much as he gave to her, she could take everything away from him in a single selfish moment.

“Hi, El.” She smiled at the handsome lycan. “How are you?”

“Alive.” Elijah’s deep voice rumbled across the room. “In large part, because of you.”

“Whatever. You were kicking ass. I just tried to be more than a helpless human.”

“Helpless.” He snorted. “No, you’re not helpless. You’re fucking crazy.”

Lindsay nodded grimly. “For the most part.”

His brilliant emerald eyes swept over her in a clinically examining glance. “How are you feeling? Is the arm hurting you at all?”

She approached him with her hand extended. The pinkness of the flesh was fading and a light dusting of peach fuzz had sprung up since she’d taken her first shower earlier.

Elijah looked at her arm and whistled. “I thought for sure you’d lose it.”

“It was bad, huh ?”

He shot her a wry glance. “Yeah. It was nearly blown off by a shotgun.”

Lindsay remembered the searing agony and hugged her arm, massaging the phantom pain. “How did he do it?”

“Wish I knew.”

Since he seemed so fascinated by it, she offered, “You can touch it.”

“No way.”

One brow rose. “I don’t bite.”

“I’m not pissing Adrian off. Curiosity killed the wolf, too.”

“Seriously. You’re totally overestimating any possessive tendencies on his part. Besides, how would he know?”

“He’d smell me on you.”

The other brow rose to match the first.

“Seriously,” he parroted drily. “Hate to embarrass you, but I smell him all over you.”

Her stomach knotted. “Did you also smell me on him?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.” She shook out her hair with agitated hands. “If I wanted to pack up and run, would I have to ditch you? Or would you let me go peaceably?”

“Try to ditch me.” He growled softly. “See how far you get.”

“Do you have orders to detain me?”

“No. But I won’t let you out of my sight.”

Because she trusted him, she let him see her turmoil. “I’m playing with fire and I’m going to get burned. I could live with that, but Adrian-he doesn’t need this kind of heat. He’s still recovering from Phineas’s death.”

“He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.” Elijah’s features softened. “Worry about taking care of you.”

Her gaze moved to the table. She remembered vividly what it felt like to have Adrian inside her. The edge to his voice had been as intimate as the physical act, and the foreign words he spoke resonated inside her, striking her in a way that was distantly familiar. She didn’t know their meaning, but she knew they were words spoken from one lover to another. They were as potent as tangible caresses, drifting softly over her skin like a warm breeze. If she was the only one to face consequences, she would take him. Keep him. Make him hers. But it wasn’t that way. He would suffer…

She exhaled in a rush. “My self-preservation warning light appears to be on the fritz.”

“So I noticed the other day.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Let’s go pig out, then ride a roller coaster until we vomit.” An adrenaline high or two was the only thing that might save her from bolting. She was strung too tight. If she didn’t loosen up, she was going to snap.

Elijah sighed. “You saved my ass for this?”

“It’s either that or run away. Your choice.”

“Fine.” He swept his arm toward the double-door entrance to the suite. “But I’ll warn you now-you really don’t want to puke on me.”

She started walking, eager to escape the place that had too many dangerous memories. “Why not?”

“I’ll puke back,” he said, pulling the door open. “I guarantee I eat more than you.”

“Eww.” Lindsay was about to step out to the hallway when a dapper African American man filled the threshold.

She stumbled to a halt, arrested by his megawatt smile. He was instantly recognizable. He was also her boss. “Hello, Mr. Gadara.”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Gibson. You are just the person I wanted to see.”

Adrian entered the Hard Rock Café and asked for Helena Bardon. The hostess offered him a bright smile and tried to engage him with small talk, but he offered only monosyllabic answers, his thoughts firmly on Lindsay. The pretty brunette continued to flirt with him as she led him to Helena’s booth, but her warmth quickly faded when she spotted the blonde sliding from the bench seat to greet him. He knew what the hostess saw-a stunning, statuesque, radiantly beautiful woman with waist-length blond hair and seraph blue eyes.

“Adrian.” Helena pulled him into a warm embrace. “When I heard about Phineas, I was so worried about you.”

“I’m managing.”

Her delicate nostrils flared as she studied him. “Your Shadoe has returned to console you.”

He gestured for her to sit.

“You know I don’t judge you,” she said softly, returning to her seat.

“I know.” After all this time, Helena remained pure of heart and soul. Her piety was so unassailable; she seemed untouched by the world they lived in. He envied her that serenity.

“Does she truly bring you solace?”

“Solace and torment, pleasure and pain. All of it in the extreme. It is sublime and it is hell, and I need it to exist. I need her.” There were few Sentinels he could speak so freely to. Helena’s unwavering faith gave her an impartiality few could lay claim to.

A waiter intruded and they ordered. They would push the food around for appearance’s sake, then box it up for their lycans. When they were alone again, Helena leaned back in her seat and suddenly looked very weary.

“How can I help you?” he asked. He didn’t show how her unrest affected him, but it did. Deeply. She’d always been one of the immutable things in his existence. But then, so had Phineas.

“By commiserating.” Her delicate hand rested on the table. “Have I told you that one of my lycans, Mark, claims to be in love with me?”

Adrian stilled. “No.”

“Yes. Well, that’s what he believes.”

Recovering, he said, “I’m not overly surprised by the possibility. You’re a beautiful woman with a gentle soul.”

“You know where the praise for such things should be directed, but thank you.” Her fingertips drummed lightly into the tabletop, a revealing action she seemed to be unaware of. “I made every attempt to be respectful of his feelings, however inconvenient they are. He’s done his job very well because of them. Mark has risked himself in ways and situations no other lycan would have.”

“Has he become a problem for you?”

“No.” She sighed. “ I have.”

Reaching out, he caught her hand, stilling its fidgeting. “I’m listening.”

“I knew he had… needs. I understand the lycan breed. It’s just… I refused to see how he handled those needs and he made every attempt to hide his activities.” Her fingers tightened on his. “But the other day, when I heard about Phineas, I called Mark in after I’d already given him the afternoon off. When he returned, I smelled-I smelled a woman on him.”