Sylvia Day - A Touch of Crimson

No, tzel . I’m going to free you. I’m going to let you go…

He’d been saying good-bye to Shadoe, not her.

Lindsay kicked upward, fighting the voracious sucking of the whirlpool. She was screaming, shouting for help, drowning with the sudden realization of how poorly she’d interpreted her dreams the night before.

Adrian loved her. And god knew she was crazy enough about him to die for his happiness. Which appeared to be what she was to him-the woman who made him happy.

She wouldn’t give him up. She refused. He knew her inside and out. From the beginning, he’d allowed her to choose which direction she wanted to travel, and whichever road she chose-the hotel or the hunt, with or without him-he had made accommodations to allow her that freedom while still keeping her safe. She could be herself with him and he would love her that way. Cherish her.

With all her might, Lindsay fought the relentless pull of the now glowing abyss below her, but the cyclonic recollections around her rose higher and higher, and the reels of images in the sky above her seemed farther and farther away.

“Shadoe!” she yelled. “You’ll never have all of him. Never again.”

An arm shot out and grasped her wrist. Shadoe leaned over the lip of the vortex, her long black hair hanging in a satiny curtain around her lovely face.

“Part of him belongs to me now.” Lindsay whimpered, her shoulder separating from its socket as she was pulled in two directions. “You don’t strike me as the type of woman who’s willing to share.”

“And you are?”

Lindsay’s jaw tightened against the pain. “I’ll take whatever I can have of him,” she bit out. “If he thinks of you sometimes, I can live with that. Can you live with him making love to my body when he’s with you?”

Shadoe’s sloe eyes narrowed. Then her lush red lips curved in a smile. She released Lindsay’s arm, and Lindsay fell toward the radiant light below.

“Shadoe.”

Her rival dived into the vortex, racing past Lindsay with her arms outstretched and her hands clasped together in a narrow blade. She cut through the light and disappeared inside it. Instantly the whirlpool’s direction changed, surging upward. As the moving pictures above Lindsay rushed down to meet her, she held her breath and closed her eyes.

She was spit out of the tempest with a gasping breath of cognizance.

Jackknifing up, Lindsay woke in a strange bed. She blinked at finding Kent Magus sitting in a chair beside her.

“Kent?” she queried, realizing she was drenched with sweat. So much sweat that the comforter and sheets beneath her were soaked with it, too. Something hard rattled around in her mouth. She spit it out, then another one. She winced at the sight of her two human canine teeth in her palm. “What are you doing in my dream?”

Kent stared at her, then frowned. “Lindsay…? Where’s Shadoe?”

“ You have the hots for her, too?” Her gaze narrowed. Kent’s handsome features echoed the woman’s she had just said good-bye to in her mind… or soul-wherever. “She’s gone. Not coming back. Off to a better place and all that.”

“Shit,” he whispered, running his hand through hair that had become spiky from his restless fingers.

“What are you doing here?”

He scrubbed at teary, reddened eyes. “I’m your-I’m Shadoe’s brother, Torque.”

“Oh. I thought you were my night auditor.” She fell back into the wet bedclothes with a groan, certain she was both crazy and dying. No one could feel as bad as she did and live through it. Violent shudders wracked her body as if she were freezing, but she was burning up. Her mouth felt stuffed with cotton that tasted like an ashtray. Her stomach was churning as if ready to heave, and her head was throbbing so viciously she felt like something was trying to slam its way out of her skull from the inside.

But the reality she’d woken up to was worse.

She was still Lindsay, still crazy about Adrian, and she was one of the things they both hated and hunted-a vampire.

Adrian saw the smoke rising from the remnants of the Navajo Lake pack miles before he reached it. When Damien pulled the Suburban through the gates, they entered a literal war zone. Very little remained intact. Fires burned untended. What had once been the cryogenic storage facility was a charred hole in the ground several meters deep. Not one window remained unbroken. Feathers dotted the ground along with dozens of naked corpses.

For the first time in two days, an emotion penetrated the thick haze of grief clouding Adrian’s mind and heart.

Climbing out of the truck, he surveyed the devastation. He rubbed at the dull pain in his chest and asked, “How many Sentinel casualties?”

“Five, including Jason.”

More losses in a matter of hours than they’d been dealt in centuries, plus two lieutenants lost in a single month. “How many lycans were killed?”

“Close to thirty.” Damien looked pale and drawn. “Although it’s likely some fled and died from their wounds elsewhere. There are a few who stayed loyal to us, but I don’t know how useful they’ll be. The other lycans will kill them on sight.”

Adrian wandered through the ruined outpost. This blow was the worst yet, one very likely to cause the destruction of every Sentinel.

And he wasn’t at his best. Everything was murky, as if he were looking at the world through cracked, dirty glass.

Where was Lindsay? How was she? Had she gone through with the Change? Was Syre even now enjoying the return of his daughter after all these centuries apart?

The thought of crossing paths with Shadoe in Lindsay’s body cut through Adrian like razors, yet he knew that day was coming if the Change had gone through as Syre predicted. He had no idea how he would survive such an encounter. He could only beg the Creator to spare him such agony.

He forced his scattered mind to focus on the immediate horror facing them. “Has news of this spread to the other packs?”

“Not all,” Damien replied grimly. “But we haven’t been able to reach the Andover or Forest River packs since early yesterday.”

Adrian returned to the SUV for the tools stored in the back. “As per protocol, we’ll burn the bodies, then level this place. We can’t leave anything behind for the curious to find.”

“Yes, Captain.”

The use of his rank chilled him. “When we get back to the Point, you and Oliver should put your heads together and come up with some suggestions for how to proceed from here. By the day after tomorrow, you should have settled on a replacement for me.”

“Adrian.”

He felt the weight of Damien’s gaze on his profile. The other Sentinels with them, Malachai and Geoffrey, stepped closer.

“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, his throat tight with remorse. It was his duty to support his men and give them encouragement and motivation when their morale was low. But he was lost himself. “I failed you all. I should have withdrawn from the mission the moment I fell. Perhaps this could’ve all been avoided.”

Lindsay. Where are you?

“I’ve always believed your ability to feel human emotion is an asset to us,” Damien said.

Beside him, Malachai nodded.

Geoffrey, a seraph of few words, shrugged. “I’d be lying if I said I’ve never found a mortal woman attractive.”

Wings flexing restlessly, Adrian took several moments to decide what to say. “Perhaps we should recall all the Sentinels to the Point. Together, reflection may give us the answers and strength we seek.”

“I take strength from you, Captain,” Malachai said with quiet conviction.

How was that possible, Adrian wondered, when he didn’t have any strength to give? He didn’t know if there were hidden reserves left within him, he felt so tapped out.