“And he could very well be just as dangerous as he was created to be,” Caleb argued for Gray as he
swiped his fingers through his short brown hair. “Dammit, Merinus, you have no business even wanting to
be anywhere near this bastard.”
Merinus took a deep breath. She lowered her eyes, staring down at the bleak loneliness reflected
through glossy paper. His eyes mesmerized her, even in the picture. There were decades of sadness
reflected there. He was thirty years old now, single, alone. A man without a family or even a race to call
his own. How terrible it must be, and to be hunted as well was a tragedy.
“I won’t stay here,” she said loud enough for them all to hear. “I’ll follow whoever goes out there and I
won’t let you hound him.”
The silence was heavy now. Merinus could feel eight sets of eyes on her, varying degrees of disapproval
reflected in their expressions.
“I’ll go with her. I can handle the research part, Merinus can make contact.” Kane’s voice had Merinus
jerking her head up in surprise.
Shock echoed along her body as she realized that the brother who suffocated her the most was actually
willing to help her in this. It was hard to believe. Kane was arrogant and ninety percent of the time, the
world’s worst jerk. He was an ex-Special Forces commander as bossy as any man ever born.
For the first time she looked directly at him. His expression was cool, but his eyes were angry. Deep and
hot with fury, the dark blue orbs met hers without their usual light of teasing mockery. The intensity in his
look almost frightened her. He wasn’t angry with her, she could tell, but Kane was pissed. And a pissed
Kane was not a good thing.
Merinus was aware of her father sitting back in his seat, watching the eldest son now with surprise.
“You’ve put a lot of time in this already, Kane,” John remarked. “Six months at least. I thought you
would be ready for a rest?”
Kane glanced at his father, shrugging his shoulders with a tight movement.
“I want to see it through. I’ll be close enough to help her out if she needs me, but also able to do the
research that could be too damned dangerous for her. If she can be ready to leave tonight, then we can
do this her way.”
“I’ll be ready.” Her response was instantaneous. “Just tell me what time.”
“Be ready at four. We have an eight-hour drive ahead of us and I want to do some recon before
morning. Damn good thing you don’t care if you chip a few nails, brat, because you’ll be doing just that.”
He came to his feet abruptly as the men around him erupted into a furious argument. Merinus could only
watch him silently, amazed at his decision. What the hell was up with this?
He ignored the heated protests of his other brothers. The arguments of Merinus’ safety, the lack of
assurance that ‘some damned hybrid animal’ wouldn’t infect her. Merinus rolled her eyes, then bit her lip
nervously as Kane’s face tightened into a mask of dangerous fury. His eyes went dead. She couldn’t
describe it any other way. As though no life or light resided inside him. It was a scary look.
The room silenced. No one but no one messed with Kane when he looked like that.
“Be ready, baby sister,” he said evenly as he passed by her. “And if you pack one damned dress or a
single tube of lipstick, then I’ll lock your ass up in your bedroom.”
“Ahh, Kane,” she whined sarcastically. “There goes my luggage quota. Asshole.” He knew better than
to think she would pack either one.
“Keep your nose clean, brat.” He flicked the ends of her long brown hair as he walked by her. “I’ll pick
you up this evening.”
CHAPTER TWO
Sandy Hook, KY
That was not a sight for virgin eyes. Merinus trained her binoculars on the vision below her, stretched out
in the warming rays of the sun, as naked as a man could be and more than a little aroused. That
gorgeous, heavily veined shaft of male flesh rose a good eight inches—no less, could be more—from the
base below his flat abdomen. It was thick and long and mouth-wateringly tempting. She blew out a hard
breath, lying flat on the rock she had found, the only viewpoint into the small sheltered back yard. She
couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Callan Lyons was tall. At least six feet, four inches, muscular, broad chested and narrow hipped, with
powerful thighs and the most gorgeous damned legs she had ever seen. This just wasn’t a sight that a
nice, prudish little journalist like herself should be seeing. It could give a girl ideas. Ideas like how it would
feel to lie next to him, rub over him, kiss that smooth, golden skin. She shivered at the thought.