Sylvia Day - A Touch of Crimson

Holding to her chosen course of action by more willpower than she should have needed, she sent Elijah a text message: c u @ the Belladonna .

She was glad he was going to be with her. He was a straight shooter. He’d help her keep her head out of the clouds, where angels flew and mortals had no business treading.

“This is for the best,” she told herself, earning another wary glance from the driver.

The verbal reinforcement didn’t help as much as she wished it would.

“Whatever the most disastrous thing you can imagine is, the reality is worse.” Torque shoved a pillow behind his back and leaned into the headboard attached to the wall. He was careful to keep his leg away from the slender shaft of sunlight sneaking through a tiny parting in the blackout curtains of his motel room. “Word on the street says Phineas is dead-from an unprovoked vamp attack.”

There was a long pause, filled only by his father’s deep and steady breathing. “Dead? Are you certain?”

“As certain as I can be without hearing it from Adrian himself. He’s been out of town since I arrived. My guess is that he’s hunting down those responsible.”

“Without a doubt.”

Torque allocated unlimited resources to the cabal he’d managed to infiltrate into the area, which gave him-and his father-access to fairly accurate reports of Adrian’s and the other Sentinels’ activities. Of course, Adrian kept a high profile on purpose, and Torque had long suspected that the cabal members had gone unmolested only because the Sentinel leader willingly looked the other way. You can see me coming and I’ll still get the jump on you seemed to be his message.

“I was hoping to meet with him,” Torque said, toying with a throwing star, “to let him know we had nothing to do with this.”

“ No. He might see you as a fair trade for Phineas-someone he loved and relied upon for someone equally valuable to me.”

“A small sacrifice to keep a war from erupting.”

“That isn’t your decision to make.”

“Isn’t it?” Torque threw the hira-shuriken at the wall, absently noting the star’s position in relation to the wallpaper pattern. His father was too protective, to the point that Vash served as his second-in-command to keep Torque out of the direct line of fire. While Torque understood the motives-and the paranoia that fueled them-it didn’t make the bitter pill any easier to swallow. He wanted to serve the vampire community to the fullest extent he could. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do or sacrifice to see them thrive and flourish.

“I’ve already lost one child. I won’t lose both of you.” Torque could imagine his father’s head leaning heavily into the headrest of his office chair. “Come home, son. We have the information we need. Now we need to figure out what to do with it.”

“We should send Vash on cleanup duty. If we police ourselves first, maybe that will reinforce our innocence.”

“Yes, you’re right. You can take over the hunt for Nikki’s abductors.”

“I’d like nothing more, but there’s something else.” Torque threw another star, embedding it in the wall directly beside the first. “Adrian’s been spotted with a woman recently.”

Again, a lengthy stretch of silence. “You think it’s Shadoe?”

“I haven’t known him to show interest in any other women. Have you?”

“Phineas is gone. Adrian will be deeply aggrieved, maybe enough to break a cardinal rule. We need to be certain of the woman’s identity before we take her.”

Torque’s hand relaxed. “I’ll keep digging until I know for sure.”

“If it’s your sister, we need to bring her home.”

“Of course. I’ll keep you posted.” Pulling the phone away from his ear, Torque turned it off and tossed it on the bed beside him. The hunt for intel distracted him from the grief he couldn’t bear to deal with now. When he’d Changed Nikki, he had done so because he wanted her immortally by his side. Nikki’s life was a sacrifice he hadn’t expected he would have to make. Living without her was killing him. He now understood the venom that coursed through Vash’s veins over the loss of her mate. His agony fueled him, keeping his focus sharp and his need for retribution simmering in his blood.

A couple more hours until dusk, and then he could hit the streets again. And god help any Sentinel unfortunate enough to cross his path.

Adrian had just reached Mesquite when his phone rang. “Mitchell,” he answered.

“Do you have an idea of how long the vampire was infected before you captured him?”

The somberness of Raguel’s voice snared Adrian’s complete attention. “No. Why?”

“The vamp is dead, and the blood sample degraded during testing. It was, I am told, as if his blood turned into a ‘motor oil-type sludge’ in an instant.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” Furious was more apt, but he made certain that wasn’t evident in his tone.

“Whatever you are dealing with,” the archangel went on, “is apparently lethal and perhaps fast-acting, depending on when the subject was infected.”

“Thank you. Your help is appreciated.”

Ending the call, Adrian looked at Jason and Damien. They were waiting nearby, looking bleak and disheartened beneath a flashing neon keno sign. Adrian wished he could have spared them this hunt for one of their own, but he couldn’t risk losing Helena or her lycan if they decided to split up. Already Helena’s second guard was traveling separately from the couple, stopping less frequently and swiftly pulling ahead.

“We need to capture more minions,” he told them. “Infected and not.”

Jason’s golden good looks were made stark by concern. “What’s going on?”

“Perhaps the end of the vampires is finally nigh.” Adrian returned his cell phone to his pocket. Jehovah does love his plagues, Raguel had said. Perhaps the archangel had been onto something.

“What a blessing that would be,” Damien said grimly, following Adrian around the corner of the casino parking lot in preparation for takeoff.

Adrian didn’t voice the rest of his thoughts.

Or we are about to be tested in ways that may yet see the end of us all.

Lindsay fingered the keypad on her cell phone and debated the wisdom of calling Adrian. She’d been strong the first few days and refrained from contacting him, but the night before had been hard. She had roused from sleep at three in the morning, her thoughts filled with memories from a dream so vivid she still recalled it eight hours later.

She’d been standing with Adrian in a lush valley. A massive river had flowed beside them, providing the water necessary to support the miles of grasses spreading outward from its banks. The sun was bright and fierce, the air humid and almost too hot. Adrian wore only coarse linen pants and leather sandals, his hair long enough to hang to the tops of his broad, powerful shoulders. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed, his sensual mouth thinned with frustration or displeasure. There was a blade in his hand-a thick, sturdy weapon that reminded her of a medieval sword or glaive, like King Arthur’s Excalibur. He spun it deftly, absently, his skill apparent in his easy familiarity with its weight and length. He was both regal and fierce. Heartrendingly beautiful.

As the wind slid lovingly through his hair, he looked at her with such torment. She felt pierced by his gaze, as if he’d stabbed her with the weapon he wielded with such obvious agitation.

Ani ohev otach, tzel, he’d said to her dream self. I love you, shadow. But I cannot have you. You know this. Why do you tempt me? Why do you flaunt what I crave, yet am forbidden to possess?