A Touch of Crimson

He flipped her the bird. “See this, too?”

Vash stared at the lycan with a clenched jaw, wondering if he could possibly be responsible for the death of her mate. It was a question that haunted her with every lycan she met. She had to believe the responsible party was still alive and out there somewhere, waiting for her to exact retribution for the atrocities committed against her beloved Charron. “How many vampires have you killed, dog?”

“N-not enough.”

“He’s young,” Salem said beside her, momentarily distracting her with his latest blinding hair color of primary blue. It was fortunate for him that he possessed classical bone structure; there was a regal quality to his handsome face that transcended whatever crayon hue adorned his head. He was also a badass motherfucker. If he hadn’t been, the bull’s-eye on his noggin would have seen him killed long ago.

She examined the lycan’s face. Beneath the agony and exhaustion that marred it, she could see youth. Perhaps he was too young. “How old are you?”

“Suck my dick.”

Bending forward, she aligned their gazes. “I’m teetering on the brink of releasing you, stupid. Don’t fuck it up.”

The redhead glared. “Fifty.”

Not him. He would have been a five-year-old pup at the time of Char’s death. She yanked her blade out of the tree and watched the lycan crumple to the forest floor. “Go to the asshole who kidnapped my friend. Tell him Vash is coming for him. Tell him he can meet me like a man, or he can cower like a dog and find himself with my blade in his back.”

The lycan’s skin began to ripple with the shadow of fur, a last-ditch attempt to save himself by shifting into his lupine form. In the process, his altering flesh would knit back together faster than it would without a shift.

“You’re letting him go?” Raze asked, his massive biceps bulging as he cleaned the lycan blood from his blade.

“If he makes it out of the woods alive, he deserves to die another day.”

She turned away and began tracking the path the two lycans had taken as they fled from her. The two Fallen captains fell into line behind her.

A mile away, Raze caught her arm and looked down at her through his sunglasses. Vash was a tall woman, but the captain towered above her. “Syre wanted us to bring the lycans back to Raceport.”

“That one isn’t going to crack, not even for Syre. If we want him to be useful, we need to give him his freedom.”

“The chances of him making it back to civilization are practically nonexistent,” Salem pointed out drily.

Her returning smile was grim. “He’s motivated. He was willing to die to protect whoever it is we’re after. He’s going to want to get back and give a heads-up that we’re coming, and when he does, he’ll lead us right to the one we want. If necessary, we’ll help him along and make sure he survives long enough to give us a trail.”

They located the remnants of the lycan’s clothing two miles farther. In his pants pocket, they found his wallet. Pulling out his Mitchell Aeronautics identification card, Vash smiled and waved it. “I thought so. His home address is Angels’ Point. I knew Adrian was involved. Now maybe we’ll be able to prove it.”

“Mr. Mitchell.”

Adrian paused as he moved past the Mondego’s registration desk. “Yes?”

The front desk clerk reached for the phone. “Mr. Gadara would like to see you when you have a moment.”

He gave a curt nod and continued toward the elevators. His cell phone beeped with a text message just before the doors opened. He pulled it out of his pocket as he stepped inside the waiting car.

The principal’s on the move, via Gadara. Heading to airport to intercept, but may have to follow to CA. Will report ASAP.

Because he was partially distracted by planning the logistics of the hunt for Helena and her lycan, it took Adrian a split second to register who’d texted-Elijah-and who the principal was-Lindsay. “Shit.”

He thrust his hand out just before the doors slid closed, then exited the car in a rush. “I’ll see him now,” he said to the front desk clerk, who directed him to another elevator, which required a key code from the occupant or the front desk to activate it.

The elevator had only two stops-Raguel’s office and the roof. The doors slid open directly into a massive reception area that kept visitors at bay until Raguel was ready to receive them. Adrian set the bag of food on the receptionist’s desk, then walked right through to Raguel’s office.

“Adrian.” Raguel rose gracefully to his feet from behind his desk and waved off his secretary with an insolent flick of his wrist. Behind him, a wall of windows offered a panoramic view of the city, creating an impressive backdrop for the overly ambitious archangel. “I am afraid the test results have yet to come back.”

“You’re fucking with the wrong seraph.”

“Ah, I see.” Raguel’s smile was knowing. “You are here about Ms. Gibson. I had assumed your thoughts were focused on more pressing matters.”

“Right now my thoughts are focused on making your life hell. You don’t want me to do that. Where is she?”

“There is no emotion at all in your voice, yet your words are so fierce. Which is it, Adrian? Does Ms. Gibson’s departure truly upset you, or have you simply failed to acquire suitable social skills?”

“You can’t bait me, Raguel. Where is she?”

The archangel sank back into his seat with an elegant economy of movement. “She took my helicopter to the airport, where I believe she intends to catch a flight to California. She was most eager to begin her work as the Belladonna’s assistant general manager.”

“Your interference in my matters is exceptionally foolhardy. I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I had no right to detain her. Once she stated her desire to leave, I had no choice but to allow her to go. What would you have had me do? Restrain her?”

Adrian’s back rippled with his aggravation. “You didn’t have to assist her.”

“She works for me. How could I not help her when she asked?”

“Did she ask? Or did you offer?”

“What does it matter? She accepted eagerly.” Raguel’s smile was filled with calculation.

Pulling out his phone, Adrian sent a quick text to Elijah. Find the principal. Protect her until further notice.

“I am more than happy to lend you my helicopter as well,” Raguel offered.

“Perhaps. If something pressing comes up.” He was almost decided that he shouldn’t go after Lindsay even when it became possible for him to do so. She would be safer if he stayed away. He no longer needed her to lure Syre-the vampire leader was giving him all the excuse necessary without her help.

And maybe letting Shadoe go was the lesson he’d never learned. Maybe she’d been his test at selflessness and he’d failed to pass it over and over again. Maybe freeing both Shadoe’s soul and the vessel carrying it was the true sacrifice he was expected to make. There was no reason Lindsay Gibson couldn’t live a life separate from him. He’d given her the choice between relative normalcy-a secular job and the cessation of her hunting-or training with him. If she’d chosen the former, there was no good reason for him not to let her go. He knew where she was; he could keep Syre away from her until the time came when he could end this.

That time was coming soon. Very soon.

In the interim, he had Helena to contend with. Finding her wasn’t something he would delegate to anyone else. He respected his Sentinels too much to not see to them personally. And when he did find her and separate her from her lycan, it would be best if he could look her in the eye and tell her that he’d made the same sacrifice to his happiness that he was demanding she make to hers.

“You surprise me,” Raguel murmured. “You have risked so much for something you relinquish so easily.”

“You don’t know me, Raguel.” He pivoted to leave the room. “But I know you. Your ambition will be your downfall. Especially if you make an enemy of me.”

“I believe you will find,” the archangel called after him, “that I am a friend worth having in your corner.”

“Unlike you, I don’t have a corner.” Adrian stepped into the elevator and faced Raguel, baring his teeth in a feral smile. The archangel’s territory extended only across North America; Adrian had no such limits.

The elevator doors closed, shutting out the look of sharp consideration on Raguel’s face.