A Touch of Crimson

of what to cook for dinner. What’s your guilty pleasure?”

“You’re cooking?”

“Unless you object.”

Her mouth curved. Adrian was clearly used to getting his way with no questions asked. “I should probably deny you at some point, just to keep you in your place.”

His gaze smoldered. “And where would that be? The place where you’d like to put me.”

“The place where I set the pace.”

“I like it already.”

“Good.” Lindsay gave an approving nod. He was becoming more approachable by the minute. More real. “As for dinner at your place, I’m okay with that. But I want you to decide what’s on the menu. Impress me.”

“No allergies? Nothing off-limits?”

“I’m not a fan of liver, bugs, or meat that’s still bleeding.” Her nose wrinkled. “Aside from that, you’ve got carte blanche.”

Her stipulations elicited his first real smile. “I’m not a fan of blood either.”

The sensual curving of his lips caused heat to spread outward from her tummy, pushing languidness through her limbs even as it gave her a potent headrush. She felt flushed and totally smitten.

It figured that the one guy to set her off like a rocket was also one who obviously had a lot more to him than met the eye.

As if what met the eye wasn’t enough…

“Why do you need bodyguards?”

Adrian lifted his shoulder in an offhand shrug, his gaze trained on Lindsay as it had been since they’d entered his local organic grocery. She was long and lean, athletic. Her body was a credit to the Creator, and she kept it in prime shape. The way she carried her weight on her feet was notable for its predaceous grace. While her outward appearance was relaxed, he sensed the edge to her. His mood was affecting her strongly, yet she rolled with it, maintaining an admirable level of control.

She was in a lot better state than he was.

Shadoe’s return was shredding his equanimity. Shopping for dinner ingredients seemed absurd, considering the violent need tensing every muscle in his body. Here, finally, was the one woman who made him hunger and crave and feel as no other could. The one woman capable of making him acutely aware of every second of his two hundred years of celibacy… and he couldn’t have her. Not yet.

“Notoriety leads to unwanted attention,” he explained with studious evenness.

Which was why he avoided going out in public when Shadoe wasn’t with him. He did so now because it served a variety of purposes-it continued his campaign to appear unfazed by the morning’s attack, it established normalcy and intimacy with Lindsay, and it gave her the opportunity to select the ingredients she preferred.

She glanced at the lycans who stood on either end of the produce section. “Dangerous attention? Your bullet catchers are pretty big guys.”

“Sometimes. Nothing for you to worry about. I’ll keep you safe.”

“If I scared easily”-Lindsay picked up a sweet potato and dropped it into a plastic produce bag-“I wouldn’t have left the airport in a strange city with a guy I don’t know.”

She knew him, even if she didn’t realize why or how. It was obvious she relied on her gut instincts more than black-and-white reasoning, and that intuition was filling in the blanks on his behalf. She’d taken one look at him and set her sights. No hesitation. Just a straight-up, in-your-face I want you look that had volleyed the ball into his court with a rapid-fire salvo.

Lindsay gestured at the nearly overflowing handbasket he was carrying. “I’m looking forward to watching you cook all this and seeing if I can pick up a few tips on how to prepare tempura, which is one of my favorite dishes.”

“Do you cook?”

That made her laugh. “Stovetop stuff. Nothing complicated. With a single-parent dad and a crazy college schedule, I’ve eaten out more than I’ve eaten in.”

“We’ll change that.” He reached for a Mayan sweet onion, then deliberately allowed it to tumble from his grasp.

She snatched it out of the air with nearly the same speed he’d used to catch Jason’s flying sunglasses earlier.

“Here you go.” Lindsay tossed the vegetable to him, then turned away as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

His hand fisted and the onion burst within his palm like a raw eggshell. As the fragrant juice flowed over his fingers, he cursed and willed the mess into a waste bin across the room with a terse thought.

Lindsay pivoted at the sound, turning so fluidly that her canvas messenger bag didn’t sway from her side. She’d withdrawn the large carryall from her checked luggage the moment she tugged it off the baggage carousel. Her haste had roused his curiosity. Why not carry it on the plane if the need for it was that immediate?

Adrian studied her. Her economy of movement was impressive. And worrisome. “You have great reflexes.”

Her gaze shifted downward. “Thank you.”

“You could have played professional sports.”

“I thought about it.” Grabbing a bag of carrots, she placed it in his basket. “But I lack stamina.”

He knew why. Lindsay’s mortal body wasn’t built to sustain Shadoe’s naphil gifts. What he didn’t know was if she had just the speed or if there were other talents.

A sense of urgency swept over him. He had to take out Syre as soon as possible.

Even knowing how drastically, perhaps catastrophically, the world would change when he killed the leader of the vampires, Adrian wasn’t deterred. Shadoe took precedence over everything. He’d made the mistake of putting himself first the night he attempted to circumvent her death; he would not be so selfish a second time.

But the cost would be high.

His mission was to contain and control the Fallen, not execute them. When he ended Syre’s life, he would be pulled from the earth for disobeying his orders, leaving the Sentinels without the captain they’d served under from their inception. The two factions-vampires and angels-would both be leaderless for a time, throwing the world into temporary chaos. But Shadoe’s soul would be freed of its enchainment to her father, and Adrian’s hypocrisy would be at an end. The mistake he’d made so long ago would finally be rectified.

In many ways, his actions would rebalance the scales. He and Syre had both proven unworthy of their leadership. Both the Fallen and the Sentinels deserved captains above reproach, individuals who could lead by example.

His cell phone rang. Pulling it out of his pocket, Adrian saw it was Jason. He apologized for the need to take the call, but Lindsay just shooed him off and continued on without him.

“Mitchell,” he answered.

“Damien’s flight is about to take off. He’ll be home in a couple hours.”

Adrian knew everyone was moving as swiftly as possible, but that did little to temper his impatience. Phineas’s death demanded swift retaliation, but he needed detailed information to begin his hunt. Damien had been the first Sentinel on the scene and he would have the surviving lycan in tow. They would be his starting point. “I have Shadoe.”

A pause. Then a whistle. “The timing is perfect. Gives us some leverage if Syre’s finally decided to go rogue.”

“Yes.” Adrian’s spine rippled with tension. As distasteful as it was to use Lindsay as a lure to gain access to Syre, there was no denying that she was the best means of manipulating her vampire father into a vulnerable position. “We’re in public now.”

“Should I tell Damien to report to your office in the morning?”

“I want to see him the minute he comes in. This is our primary focus until we find the one responsible.”

“Gotcha.”

“And the pilot? Do we know what happened there?”

“He was thrown off the roof just before we cleared the stairs. It’s all over the local news in Phoenix now.”