Sylvia Day - A Touch of Crimson

It was only a shell without the woman he loved inside it.

Adrian cupped Lindsay’s face in his hands, looking into her eyes, the windows to a soul that wasn’t her own. Bending his head, he pressed his lips to hers, softly, chastely, his heart aching for the woman he’d once loved long ago. A woman so beautiful, fierce, and seductive she’d lured an angel to fall. He had loved her with hot, saturating abandon.

But Shadoe’s time had passed, and he had since fallen in love with someone else. A mortal whose love was selflessly given. A woman who accepted him just as he was, including the law and rules that had forged him yet also forbid them to be together.

His thumbs brushed over her cheekbones, and he pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m going to free you, Shadoe. I’m going to let you go.”

“I want you,” she said again, reaching between them for his flagging erection.

Adrian arched his hips away from her touch and sent a rush of languidness through Lindsay’s body. He caught her as she sagged unconscious, lifting her and carrying her to the bed. He could do nothing about the thong he’d destroyed in the extremity of his need, so he covered her with the sheet. Brushing her hair back from her face, he kissed her forehead.

“Lindsay.” He nuzzled his lips across her perspiration-damp skin. “Soon it will all be over.”

He straightened and left the room with a purpose-driven stride. The beating of his heart was quick and heavy, but his mind was clear for the first time in ages.

The weight of the past dissipated along with his wings.

As he undressed again and stepped beneath a cold shower, it all washed away-the guilt and pain, the sorrow and remorse.

Why won’t you let me save you? Lindsay had asked, unaware that she already had saved him in the most fundamental of ways. She’d given him the strength he’d lacked, and a sweet, precious love. There was so much she could teach him about how to love from the inside out. His biggest regret was that he’d never have the chance to follow her lead.

But at least he could free her from his past. All the fear and indecision that had plagued him for centuries was gone. He was no longer debating the wisdom of his decision to strike first, within enemy territory. Lindsay was unhappy and Adrian couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t stand being the cause of her pain. If it was in his power to end her suffering, he had to try.

All these years, he’d wanted to spare himself further self-recriminations. Instead of allowing Shadoe the peace of an honorable death in battle, he’d selfishly tried to bind her to him with immortality. It was not his place to intercede once the Creator decided it was time for someone to die, and his punishment for doing so had been long and agonizing. He’d intended to end the cycle as much for himself as for Shadoe.

Now he would act for Lindsay alone. He would give her back the life that should have been hers. A life of normalcy. A chance to be happy. The opportunity to find a man who would love her without all the chains that bound Adrian to his duty.

It was a gift he could give to her without strings. It wasn’t equal to the gift she’d given him, but it would be given selflessly and out of a deep love, the likes of which he’d never known before.

The moment Lindsay awoke, she knew Adrian was gone. The feeling of emptiness inside her was so pervasive, it was gnawing. She moved to leave the bed and realized she was nude. For a second, she wondered why. Then the memories hit her in a rush.

I’m going to let you go.

Soon it will all be over…

With a gasp, she bent at the waist, her rib cage gripped in a vise of excruciating heartbreak. Her father was dead. Daddy.

And she knew, as only a woman in love could know, that Adrian didn’t intend to ever see her again.

Her eyes closed, but tears leaked free. She’d lost the two most important individuals in her life at the same time. As she rocked with the pain, the echoes of her dreams came back to haunt her. She felt the burning desire coursing through her, so hot and powerful she couldn’t resist it. Instead she had embraced it, amplified it, taken fierce pleasure in making Adrian bend like a reed beneath it. The power she’d felt in garnering his capitulation against his will had been heady and addictive. And sickening. She had felt almost as if she was watching herself from the outside, unable to control her own wild impulses. When Adrian had turned away from her, she’d been so relieved for both of them. So grateful that he possessed the strength she lacked.

But he hadn’t turned away for a moment. He’d turned away from her forever. His voice in her dreams had been devoid of the aching tenderness she had become accustomed to feeling in it.

A half-crazed, half-sobbing laugh escaped her.

Pushing to her feet, Lindsay straightened and knew she had to get her head on straight. She had to return to Raleigh, and she expected to stay there for a while. She needed to get her bearings, figure out where she was going from here. She needed to regroup, then plan for how to hunt down Vash. The desire for vengeance was so pervasive she could barely think beyond it. That was a blessing in a way. Revenge gave her something to focus on beside her debilitating grief.

She showered and dressed. When she made the bed, she found her shredded panties. Whether she’d ripped them off herself in the throes of her erotic dream or Adrian had actually been with her and done it, the end result was the same-it was over between them.

“Be careful what you wish for,” she muttered, wondering why she didn’t just learn to stop wishing for things at all.

She stepped out onto the wraparound deck, noting from the position of the sun in the sky that it was late morning. There were no angels flying; no clouds, either. It was a beautiful day, the kind Southern Californians enjoyed most of the year.

Lost in her misery, Lindsay took a set of stairs leading down the side of the hill to a smaller deck a few hundred yards below. From there, the city view was lost, leaving one with the impression that they were alone in the far reaches of the native SoCal landscape.

She set her elbows on the railing and began searching the contacts list on her cell phone. There were so many calls and arrangements to make. She made herself go through the motions, despite feeling so hollow and cold inside. Dead.

A massive winged shadow swept over her.

An angel’s shadow, followed by the rustling of feathers as the Sentinel landed behind her. Feeling a desperate, futile hope that it might be Adrian and not wanting to let go of it, she hesitated a second before turning to face her companion.

A hand touched her shoulder.

“Good morn-” she began.

She fell into unconsciousness before she finished the greeting.

Adrian rolled into Raceport on a Harley he’d purchased just an hour before. It was early afternoon. Most of the minions were ensconced in the darkness somewhere, sleeping. Unfortunately, Raceport had one of the highest concentrations of Fallen in the country. After all this time, they still hovered around Syre like moths to a flame, even though they’d all already been burned and disfigured.

If he had a contingent of Sentinels with him or a pack of lycans, he’d be in a much better position. But even with the need for success being paramount, Adrian refused to involve anyone in his personal vendetta. This was his battle. The consequences for what he was about to do would fall on his shoulders alone.

He backed his bike into a spot directly in front of the general store. Syre’s office was above it, as Adrian knew from vigilant and constant surveillance of the area-just as Angels’ Point was watched. It was all part of the careful dance between them, the need to maintain a balance even as everything shifted and moved around them.