Sylvia Day - A Touch of Crimson

The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

Collusion between the lycans and vampires would lead to the annihilation of the Sentinels. The numbers against them would be far too great to withstand.

Gauging Elijah’s loyalty was more important than ever. Adrian expected that fidelity would be strongest with other lycans, but it just might be strong enough with Lindsay to make defection difficult.

Elijah met his gaze as he moved to follow Lindsay outside.

Adrian paused on the threshold. “What do you think, Elijah?”

“Vash was empty-handed after speaking to Micah. She was left with the choice of interrogating another lycan before my blood sample deteriorated or following Micah back to me. I think that’s why she let him live.”

“And what will you do should she come here?”

“Eviscerate the bitch.” He growled, his eyes glowing with green fire. “Micah is my friend. He’s like a brother to me, as Phineas was to you. And she killed him. I could’ve lived with that if she’d fought him for it. But to die like this, sick and broken in a bed-no lycan should have to die like that.”

Adrian set his hand on Elijah’s shoulder and swiftly searched the lycan’s mind. A red haze of fury and grief washed over every sifting thought, none of which dealt with mutiny or treachery. Momentarily reassured, Adrian murmured, “May we all go down fighting.”

He released the lycan and stepped outside, finding Lindsay standing a safe distance away from the railing while staring at the cityscape in the distance. He embraced her from behind, wrapping her within his arms and wings.

“Your participation helped immensely,” he said with his lips to her ear. “Thank you.”

“I hate that you’re dealing with so much crap at once.” She leaned into him, placing her arms over his. “You haven’t had any time to grieve. And my being here is just making things worse.”

Adrian’s arms tightened around her. “Your being here makes things bearable.”

“You’re a glutton for punishment,” she muttered. “He’s loyal to you, you know. Elijah. And he’s a good guy.”

“That doesn’t necessarily make him less dangerous.”

“What does being an Alpha mean? What makes him different?”

“The beast within the lycans is powerful. They were created with demon blood-the blood of werewolves- and it’s very much like being possessed. They have two natures warring inside them.”

“God,” she breathed. “I can guess how that must be for them. I feel like I’m warring with myself sometimes. Especially with you. I know what I need to do, but it’s hard to shut out the voice in my head that says, To hell with the consequences .”

Shutting his eyes against her inadvertently accurate confession, he went on, “At times, the beast takes over. The lycan can’t control the need to shift or the violence that comes with it. The Alphas are different. They have the power to decide which half of their nature is most dominant, regardless of triggers or provocation, and that power seems to extend outside of themselves. They can calm and subdue the beasts in the lycans around them. The others are drawn to that force of will, and their beasts subjugate willingly to the Alpha, but their allegiance must be with the Sentinels first and foremost.”

Her head fell back into the crook of his shoulder, her silky golden curls brushing across his jaw. “What do you do with the Alphas?”

“We segregate them from the others and use them for assignments in which a lone hunter is required. The other lycans must work in teams.”

“Who oversees that for you? Or do you do it?”

“The dispatching of the Alphas is delegated to Reese. I can introduce you, if you like. He can answer your questions more thoroughly.”

Sighing, she tilted her head to the side. Her soft lips whispered against his chin. “I don’t know how you carry the weight of everything you’re responsible for, but I respect you for doing what has to be the most difficult job ever.”

He’d noticed in Utah that Lindsay refrained from contradicting him in front of an audience, showing him respect and displaying a restraint that was unique to her. Although she was as strong willed and passionate as Shadoe, she was far less impetuous when it came to weighing the ramifications of her words and actions. She maneuvered well through group interactions, but in a way that minimized her presence and participation. While Shadoe had always been the most vibrant individual in any gathering, Lindsay could recede from notice when she chose to. It was a defensive tactic she must have cultivated to deal with her feelings of abnormality. Who would notice she was strange if they didn’t notice her at all?

Adrian admired her ability to be circumspect, which made him ever more determined to protect her from further experiences that might erode her confidence. Lindsay Gibson was an extraordinary woman in so many ways. He never wanted her to question her worth for a moment.

Yet he’d put her in a position of being surrounded by those who distrusted and resented her. When he took himself out of the equation and thought only of her, he knew what had to be done. The sooner he killed Syre, the sooner she would be free of Shadoe’s soul and this life of war that wasn’t meant for her. But with every hour that passed, he fell a little farther and the thought of losing her gnawed a little deeper.

He knew he must have dreaded losing her with such ferocity before, but he was damned if he could remember when.

Lindsay sank into the chaise in Adrian’s bedroom and stretched out. His personal space was surprisingly spartan compared to the bedroom that had been given to her. No art adorned the walls, and the furniture was Shaker in style.

This, she thought, was more like him. Although he appeared at home surrounded by the trappings of massive wealth, it was in this room that he fit best. As she surveyed the space, the affinity she felt for him deepened. She knew how it felt to wear a guise all the time. It was exhausting and wore away at a person after a while.

Adrian was busy unpacking his bags. It didn’t escape her notice that he did it the old-fashioned way-with his two hands. Busywork hinted at agitation. Or avoidance.

Tucking her hands behind her head, she stared up at the ceiling. It was something she and her father had often done over the years-had lain on their backs and looked up at the sky, feeling the wind move over them as it whispered softly. Eddie Gibson never doubted that Lindsay heard voices in the air, even though he couldn’t hear them himself. She was so grateful to him for that unconditional love. It enabled her to love others who were extraordinary, like Adrian.

“Thank you, by the way,” she said, “for looking out for my dad. I know you need every hand right now, but I won’t talk you out of watching his back. He’s my rock. I couldn’t get by without him.”

“You’re welcome.”

She rubbed absently at the ache of homesickness in her chest. “You’re being quiet. A penny for your thoughts.”

“I’m thinking about the questions you brought up earlier.” He glanced at her. “You’re quiet, too. What are you thinking about?”

“My dad, which led to me thinking about the lycans guarding him. I’m trying to wrap my mind around you enforcing this you-work-for-me-or-die rule. I can’t see it in you. Commander of military forces, yes. An employer, yes. Even an angel-no problem. But someone who forces people to do things against their will under threat of death? No.”

He exhaled audibly. Although his facial expression didn’t change, she sensed disquiet in him.