The Awakening

way. Rage she understood. Fear, deliberation, disgust. All the garden-variety emotions.

What she felt now, with him, was something faster, almost raw, definitely urgent and disorderly.

Infused with an inclination she didn't understand. Gaby reacted instinctively, again jerking her knee up with precise aim.

He shifted, and rather than meet her target, she thumped against a muscled thigh. He winced, but didn't release her. 'Calm down,' he told her, as if she hadn't just come close to unmanning him.

Wow. Amazing control.

Amazing reflexes.

And an incredible poker face.

He'd moved so fast, she hadn't had a chance to counter it—something that had never happened to her before. The success of her talent depended on her skill. She had to be better than everyone else, faster and stronger and more intuitive… or innocent people would be consumed by savagery.

Or maybe… he was innocent, so she couldn't hurt him.

That thought left her confounded, and she shied away from it. No one was totally innocent. No one.

Curious, Gaby stared at him. Even with her attack, his gaze didn't falter, his voice didn't change. Other than the slight winging of one dark brow, he showed no reaction at all.

Eyes shining with awareness, he asked, 'Is there some reason you're assaulting me?'

She had to get away.

Now.

The longer she stayed near him, the more disconcerted she got, and she never got disconcerted. She couldn't allow old-fashioned jitters to jeopardize what must be done. Enough time had passed to threaten the probability of the outcome.

Letting evil escape was not an option.

If she didn't get her ass in gear, some poor soul would suffer. She'd fail in her duty, and the awful pain would linger and burn until it almost drove her mad.

His knees bent, bringing his face level with hers. 'Hey, anyone at home in there?'

Gaby narrowed her eyes, annoyed at his teasing. She'd never known a man to act so weird. She didn't like it. She sure as hell didn't understand it.

Forgoing a verbal reply, she stared down at first his left hand, then his right, both firmly latched onto her arms just above her elbows.

He released her and took a step back.

Without wasting another second, Gaby started around him.

This time he only caught her arm to regain her attention. Full of incredulity and dangerous antagonism, her fist cocked back, Gaby whirled to confront him. He dropped his hand. Again.

'I'm a cop.' Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a black wallet and flipped open a badge. 'Detective Cross.' He offered an encouraging smile. 'Luther Cross.'

The air squeezed out of her lungs so fast that dark spots danced in front of her eyes. She detested cops. They never understood. They couldn't.

By virtue of their chosen careers, they were diametrically opposed to her and to what God forced her to do.

After a quick glimpse at the badge, which looked real enough, she met his gaze with insult. 'Good for you.' Again, she turned—and again he caught her arm.

Snarling, Gaby jerked free. 'Back off, shithead, all right?'

In the universal sign of surrender, he raised his hands. 'I just want to make sure you're okay.'

Right. So that must be altruism emanating from him in scorching waves, making her head swim and her belly flinch? Even if her mission hadn't heightened her sense of smell, she would have seen through the lie.

Suspicion filled his dark eyes.

Curiosity.

And something else, something she didn't dare ponder.

'Great. I'm fine.' This time when she stalked away, he kept pace with her. Oh Christ. She could feel him there, big and hot and powerful—and somehow amused, though he showed no expression. She had to shake him off. No way in hell could she take care of business with him tagging along.

Cops weren't keen on seeing people slaughtered.

What to do?

Tom by duty and caution, and the new, alien edginess, Gaby halted with an unmistakable show of exasperation. 'What?'

Those dark eyes grew more intense as he scrutinized her. Somehow, he managed to appear bigger. Taller. And mean.

Being physically ripped apart couldn't hurt this much.

He struck a concerned frown. 'You're still shaken. Look at your hands.'

Gaby glanced down and bit off a lurid curse at her white-knuckled fists. She closed her eyes, carefully opened her hands, stretched out her fingers, loosened them until she appeared relaxed.

'Better?' he whispered.

Fuck off. No, she better not say that. Pain shredded her nerves. His appeal nearly destroyed her. Together, the dual influences could do her in.

She gritted her teeth. 'Just dandy.'

He took a step closer. 'Where're you headed?'

The pain amplified, signaling an urgency to the moment. His presence had at first blunted the pain, but now her time had run out. She all but panted to keep control. 'And that's your business because… ?'

Something within him sharpened; she felt it like tiny pinpricks from a million needles. He kept his expression enigmatic, but the strength of his purpose enveloped her. 'You assaulted a man.'

Resisting the wild urge to run, Gaby rested her weight on one hip and crossed her arms over her chest. 'Self-defense.'

'Yeah?'

'He grabbed me.'

Detective Cross agreed with a slow nod. 'I saw. You acted like Satan himself had you.'

Her chin shot up. For a minute there, she hadn't been sure.

A quirky smile lifted the corners of his mouth. 'Bogeymen aren't real, but unfortunately jerks are.'

Both she and God knew that he couldn't be more wrong. Bogeymen, demons, vile incarnations and perversions of the sickest kind… they walked the earth in greater might than all the jerks combined.

But she had neither the time nor the inclination to school him on reality. She'd amused him enough.

'So Where'd you learn to move like that? Most women would have slapped his face and started crying. You knocked him out.' He snapped his fingers, 'Just like that. You've had special training?'

If you could call God a Trainer.

But Gaby couldn't tell him that. The pain in her belly ruptured, boiling up her throat and into her lungs and heart. She had to go.

Arms curled around her middle, her back teeth sawing together, she sought coherent words. 'Are you arresting me or what?'

His head tilted back and something flickered in his expression, as if he'd just noticed her discomfort. The seconds ticked by, driving her urgency, sharpening the mauling agony.

Very softly, with a tip of his head, he said, 'Not.'

She let out a broken breath. And this time when she strode away on stiff legs that made her gait awkward, he didn't follow.

But damn it, Gaby felt his gaze and couldn't resist the urge to look over her shoulder.

She wished she hadn't.

He stood there, staring after her, somehow dark and bright at the same time. He looked… speculative, and the last thing she needed was some damn nosy cop wondering about her.