Lover At Last(166)

His dark, beautiful voice held an ominous threat in it.

Sola looked over her shoulder. “You asked me not to trespass or spy—I’m not going to.”

“And I say to you once again, do you honestly think it ends like this.”

“I’m giving you what you want.”

“Not even close,” he growled.

For a moment, that connection that had been forged in the cold, when their lips had locked in her car and their bodies had strained, sprang back to life.

“It’s too late to retreat.” He took another puff. “Your chance to get away has come…and gone.”

She turned to face him. “Not to put too fine a point on it—but bullshit. I’m not afraid of you, or anyone else—so come at me. But know that I will hurt you to defend myself—”

An abrupt sound vibrated through the air between them.

Purring? Was the man actually purr—

He took a step forward. Then another. And as a gentleman might, he held his cigar to the side, like he didn’t want to burn her or get smoke in her face.

“Tell me your name,” he said. Or commanded, more like it.

“I find it hard to believe you don’t already know it.”

“I do not.” This was said with an arch of the brow, as if information seeking was beneath him. “Tell me your name, and I will let you leave here now.”

God…his eyes…they were moonlight and shadow intertwined, an impossible color somewhere between silver and violet and pale blue.

“As our paths will not be crossing, it’s not relevant—”

“Just so you know…you will give yourself to me—”

“Excuse me—”

“But you will beg me for it first.”

Sola jutted forward, her temper blowing all her let’s-be-reasonable right out of the water. “Over my dead body.”

“Sorry, not to my taste.” He dropped his chin and stared at her from beneath lowered lids. “I prefer you hot…and wet.”

“Not going to happen.” She pivoted away and headed for the door. “And we’re done.”

Just as she entered the anteroom, her eye caught something on the bench that ran down the squat space’s far wall.

Her head whipped around, and her feet faltered. It was a knife, a very long knife, so long it was nearly a sword.

There was bright red blood on the blade.

“Rethinking your departure?” he said in that dark voice from directly behind her.

“No.” She shot over to the door and yanked it open. “I’m right on target with it.”

Slamming the thing behind her, she wanted to run to her car, but refused to give in to panic even as she expected him to come after her.

And yet the man stayed put, looming in the window of the door she had put to good use, watching her while she got in, started her engine and put the Audi into gear.

As she backed out of the drive, her heart was pounding—

Especially as a truly terrifying thought occurred to her.

Shoving her hand into her purse, she felt around for her phone, and when she found it, she went into her contact lists, selected one, and hit send. Frazzled by fear, she put the cell up to her ear even though she was Bluetooth enabled—and it was against the law in New York not to be hands-free.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring—

“Hi! I was hoping to hear from you.”

Sola sagged in the driver’s seat, her head falling back against the rest. “Hi, Mark.”

God, the sound of the man’s voice was a relief.

“Are you okay?” her trainer asked.

She thought of that bloody blade. “I am. Yes. Are you just getting off work?”

As they embarked on a pleasant enough conversation, she drove off, her foot heavy on the gas pedal, the landscape streaking by: White snow. Grungy, salted road. Skeletal trees. Little old-fashioned cabin with a light on inside. Flat, bald space over the river to the left.

Every time she blinked, she saw the shape in the windows of that door. Watching. Planning. Wanting…

Her.

And goddamn it, her body was desperate to be caught by him.





SIXTY


As Qhuinn rematerialized, his flashlight illuminated the final cabin. He didn’t wait for the others this time, just marched forward, gunning for the door, which was intact and shut tight—

His first clue that something was off came when he grabbed the rough-hewn handle: a low-level electrical charge licked into his hand and traveled up his arm.

Retracting his palm, he shook things out, his instincts going on high alert.

“What is it?” Rhage asked as the Brother stalked up onto the shallow porch.

Qhuinn glanced around, noting that Blay and John were on the periphery. “I don’t know.”

Rhage went for the door—and had the same reaction, recoiling sharply. “What the fuck.”