Chapter 21
The moment Lindsay awoke, she knew Adrian was gone. The feeling of emptiness inside her was so pervasive that 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 watched 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 that she could barely think beyond it.
That was a blessing in a way. Revenge gave her something to focus on besides 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 of being alone in the far reaches of the native SoCal landscape.
She set her elbows on the railing and began searching the contacts on her 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 somewhere in the darkness, 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.
Dismounting, he withdrew a shotgun from its holster on the bike. He wore a pistol and a dagger strapped to each thigh, and his spine tingled with the need to employ his most powerful weapons. The rage of angels pumped hot and hard through his veins.
Before he reached the bottom step of the exterior staircase leading up to the Fallen leader’s office, Adrian knew something was off.
Raceport was crowded as always, due to its reputation for being a mecca for motorcycle enthusiasts from all over the country, but very few people glanced twice at him.
Even when a group of chaps-wearing women across the street catcalled and whistled to him, it didn’t divert much attention his way.
If Syre had been nearby, security would be as tight as what Adrian employed at Angels’ Point.
Grim-faced and determined, he climbed the stairs without incident and stepped into the hallway at the top.
Two shadowy figures rushed toward him. He took them down with bullets, unable to utilize his wings in such a small space.
Two more came up behind him just before he reached Syre’s office.
He threw open the door and darted in, hearing a scream from one of his pursuers as sunlight flooded the hallway behind him.
Kicking the door shut, Adrian shoved a chair beneath the knob, all without taking his eyes or his pistol barrel off the vampress seated at Syre’s desk.
“Hello, Adrian,” she muttered, her lips curved in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Sunlight fell over her pale, bare arms and chocolate-colored hair. Her amber eyes glittered like tiger’s eye, but he remembered when they’d been blue like his own.
“Raven.”
“He’s not here.”
“I can see that.”
“He’s not even in Virginia.”
He moved to the closet door, opened it, and shot a cursory glance inside.
“It’s just you and me,” she assured. “And I have orders not to kill you.”
“Ah. So we’re playing by the same rules.”
She stood in a singularly graceful movement, revealing an ultrashort denim skirt that she wouldn’t be able to bend over in without exposing herself. Her top was gingham and tied in a knot between her full breasts, giving her a country-girl look.
Rounding the desk, she trailed the fingertips of her right hand down her left arm and looked up at him beneath long, thick lashes. “You look good, Adrian. Real good. Having sex suits you.”
He smiled, used to this game. The Fallen liked to taunt Sentinels with their sexuality. It was as if they wanted to flaunt the reason for their fall, as well as goad beings known for their abstinence. “Where is he?”
“What’s the rush?” She sidled closer, licking her lower lip.
He whipped out his wing, forcing her to spin away to avoid getting sliced. She ended up sprawled facedown atop the desk. He had her hands pinned behind her back before she could retaliate.
Bending over her, he hissed in her ear, “Where is he?”
“You don’t have to manhandle me,” she shot back, struggling. “He wants me to tell you.”
Adrian knew why. His stomach knotted. “He’s on his way to California.”
“Actually,” she purred malevolently, grinning, “he’s already there.”
Syre turned away from the bed upon which his daughter slept and exited into the living room of the two-room hotel suite he’d reserved in Irvine. Torque sat on the couch with his elbows on his knees and his fingers steepled together beneath his chin.
Vash paced restlessly. “She’s brainwashed,” she hissed. “I don’t know how long Adrian has had her, but he’s trained her well. She tried to kill me!”
Torque met his gaze and shrugged.“I didn’t see her in action, but I patched up Vash’s wounds. Shadoe did a number on her.”
Vash’s long hair swayed around her hips with her agitated movements. “I don’t think you have time to talk it out with her. It’ll take years to deprogram her, and the lycan who was with her is the one who snatched Nikki.”
Torque growled.
Syre ran a hand through his hair. His phone had beeped with a text message an hour before, telling him Adrian had made an appearance in Raceport.
By now, the Sentinel leader knew Lindsay Gibson was out of his safekeeping, and a search would have been mounted.
They didn’t have long before it would be impossible to leave the state without Adrian finding out.
If Syre hadn’t Changed Shadoe by then, nothing would save them.
“You might have to turn her first,” Torque said, “then explain later. Once she’s back to being Shadoe, she won’t have reason to hate us anymore. She’ll remember what we are to her.”
Syre moved to the adjoining door and waved them out. “Go. Both of you. Leave me alone with her.”
“That’s not wise,” Vash said. “She might try to kill you.”
“Without the lycan here to tell her what I am, how will she know?”
“You’re assuming she can’t tell. But I saw her run—watched her leap over a damn eight-foot-high wall. She’s not entirely mortal, whatever the hell she smells like.”
She smelled like Adrian, which turned Syre’s stomach. He was ready for her to know why she’d suffered all these years. He was ready for her to remember just how much Adrian’s desire had cost her.