Chapter 3
Dagan sweptthe difficult female he’d willed to sleep against him and scanned the alley again. There was no one else in the area except them. But the burning sensation in his back told him differently and had him gritting his teeth inannoyance.
His wound would heal as soon as he got the bullet out. But he needed the evidence and couldn’t do so now. Whoever had taken a shot at the girl had vanished. Yeah, it had been meant for her, because no one would dare shoot at him, not if they wanted tolive.
Using his psychic senses, he tracked mentally…and picked up a fast-disappearing trail. He studied it, absorbing the acrid odor of sulfur and fear. Demon. Asshole probably hadn’t expectedhimto show up. He was going to enjoy the scourge’sdeath.
Dagan shifted Shae’s slight weight in his arm and picked up her fallen cell phone with his freehand.
Thudding footsteps broke the quiet. “What the hell are you doing?” a male barked. “Let hergo!”
He straightened, recognizing the human as the one from last night, the one whom she’d been hugging, and cut him an impassive stare. The urge to wring the man’s neck for leaving her alone with a damn sniper after her took hold. If he hadn’t been hanging around this place, waiting for her, she’d bedead.
“I’m taking her withme.”
“You aren’t taking heranywhere!”
He didn’t have time for this pesky human’s interference. Dagan simply held the man’s gaze and took over his mind. “Go fuck up your life like you usually would” was his preferred directive, but Gaia would kick his ass for that.You’ve already seen her home. Nowleave.
The guy’s belligerent expression vanishing, he ambled back to the club entrance. Women rushed him. He put his arm around a brunette’s waist and they disappearedinside.
Date? Right. Dagan glanced at the female in his arms and shook his head. Pushing her cell into his back pocket, he stepped deeper into the shadows, and with the castle in mind, he dematerialized them boththere.
A few minutes later, he reformed on the portico, willed the massive front door open, and entered the foyer. About to head upstairs, Dagan paused. With her conflicting psychic vibrations, he changed direction and headed down the marble-tiled corridor to the stairs that led to the basement. The floors there gave way to plain, dark tiles and an unadorned passage leading to the training arena. The once painted walls were bare, gray stones again. Hedori had probably given up on maintaining the surfaces here. At times, their powers escaped, and it did some real damage despite the arcane magic protecting theplace.
With a thought, Dagan retrieved a black exercise mat, dropped it against the wall, and laid her on it. This place was safest fornow.
“If you’re the one I’m searching for,” he told her sleeping form, “I’m not surprised you have a hit on you.” He moved a swathe of silky hair away from her face, his fingertips brushing her cheek, and frowned at the rough, uneven, Y-shaped scar there. Slightly pink, it stood out on her pale skin. Had to berecent.
Hard to imagine a person this fragile could be a ruthless killer when she appeared to have more damages to herself. But then in his long life, and with all he’d seen, nothing much surprised himanymore.
He glanced at the colorful, wavy strands he’d been caressing between his fingertips, a blend of deep reds, light browns, and hints of gold. She stirred awake. He dropped hishand.
Feline-tipped eyes the color of brewing storm clouds with specks of sunlight blinked at him. She sat up and scrambled back. That stubborn chin rose, accusation flashing in her eyes. “What the hell did you do tome?”
Sent you to sleep and dematerialized with you.No, he didn’t think that would go over too well. He said instead, “You’resafe.”
“Safe—safe?” she snapped, her face a delectable shade of red. Then she glanced around the place, and her color drained. “Youkidnappedme? Brought me here because I wouldn’ttalktoyou?”
“If you want to give it a label, thensure.”
She looked like she wanted to punch him again. Her soft mouth tightened. A deep inhale followed as if she were struggling forcontrol.
No way could he leave a psionic, if she were one, on the loose. Shit would not just rain down on them but explode everywhere, and he definitely could do without that. He scanned her again and, despite her temper moments ago, he picked up nothing, just a slight hum of her psychic abilities that resonated though hispsyche.
Hell, he’d rather she was psionic, then he could hand the wildcat over to Michael and be done with this deadly temptation. But he needed answersfirst.
“Those dead men in the alley last night. Tell me aboutthem.”
* * *
Shae inhaled deeply,counted to ten, and prayed a madman hadn’t abductedher.
He remained hunkered down in front of her, eyes cool, his powerful forearms braced on his muscular, leather-clad thighs. Small scars marred his tanned fingers he kept loosely clasped in front of him. He wore a wide, corded leather band on one thick wrist and several narrow ones on his other. His black t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders like a second skin, the short sleeves revealing bulging biceps. On his left one, he sported a sword-like tattoo made up of a myriad of intricate designs. It was unusual, like nothing she’d everseen.
With those clothes and his long, ropey hair, he dressed like an extra from a movie shoot orsomething.
“You can’t keep me here,” she tried to reason with him. “You have to let me go. My uncle will be frantic and calling the cops bynow.”
