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“And I promise, Alessandra, I will not hurt you. Just trust your instincts.”
It was pretty much the same thing Lawrence had said.
He took one step, and then another. With each one, her body tingled as it had in the coffee shop. She had nothing to compare it to from any of her experiences before the last couple of days, but it was a sensation . . . an awareness. And it grew stronger with every step closer he took.
When he was so close she could hear him breathing, smell his clean, musky scent, he reached out.
And she let him.
He took her hand, weaving his fingers through her own. The sensation she’d experienced moments before intensified by a thousandfold. It was as if a thousand pinpricks of light had exploded between their hands, although somehow it felt calming.
Staring at him in wonder, she tried to understand.
“That feeling comes from the blood which runs through your veins.”
“Blood? What blood?”
“I’m guessing it came to you from your father, but I do not yet know.” He squeezed, ever so gently. “Let me help you, Alessandra. I can tell you all I know, protect you from—”
“That is enough.”
She pulled back at the sound of a new voice. Lawrence had appeared out of nowhere, stepping out of the shadows. As he walked casually onto the porch, Kenton’s back stiffened.
“I’d wondered what took you so long.”
Alessandra looked back and forth between the men, their hatred of one another palpable. A sense of danger washed over her, but the danger was not for her. Rather, one of these men, she sensed, was a danger to the other. Perhaps even a mortal danger.
For some reason, the thought didn’t frighten her. Though both of these men were easily muscular enough to best her, she had the sudden intuition that they would not be able to harm her. If they tried, she would tear their hearts from their chests.
Where had that thought come from? She’d never been a particularly violent person. And yet . . .
“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?” she asked.
Both men turned toward her in tandem. For the first time since she’d met these enigmatic, beautiful men, they appeared . . . vulnerable. And maybe even the slightest bit nervous.
Because of her?
Lawrence frowned. “Kenton has pushed you fully toward your destiny with his insistent and maniacal machinations.”
Well, she had no idea what that meant.
“What destiny?”
“That, my dear Alessandra,” Lawrence said, “remains to be seen.”
“The hell it does.”
But before she could demand an explanation, both men were gone.
