Chapter Three

Neal heard the sound of glass shattering. A second later, a blast of cold air hit him.

Viviana let out a yelp of fear and bumped into his back. “There’s another one,” she yel ed.

The sgath he’d fought tonight were bigger and stronger than those he’d been fighting for decades. Maybe the things had found a stockpile of steroids or something.

He shoved forward, blade first, lunging to push the sgath back on its one remaining leg. It stumbled and fel in an awkward heap.

Normal y, he would have finished the thing off, but apparently there were more urgent matters that needed his attention, like an uninjured sgath going after a defenseless woman.

Neal spun around, tracking Viviana’s position as he moved. Even though he couldn’t see her, he could somehow feel her presence, like sunlight glowing against his skin. She gave off a subtle kind of humming he knew he’d be able to track even if he were blind.

He grabbed her arm and hauled her through the bedroom door into the room with the new sgath. He booted the door between them and the injured sgath closed, hoping for a few seconds to deal with the new threat.

Viviana wielded a crystal lamp like it would actual y do some good against the demon, and while he admired her courage, she was just going to get herself kil ed if she tried to fight it.

Before she could, Neal charged, pul ing out al the stops. He let loose al the pain he’d carried for too long, his anger at the time that damn stun gun had stolen from him, and his worry for the woman at his side. Fueled by that rage and fear, his body exploded into motion, going through a series of coordinated, powerful movements he’d practiced more times than he could count.

He met the sgath midcharge and used its momentum against it. His sword sliced deep, sending a thick spray of black blood across the cheery yel ow wal paper.

The sgath screamed, but its vocal cords had been severed, and the noise came out as more of a breezy hiss.

The cut was deep, but apparently not deep enough to stop the thing. It opened its jaws and raised its front claws to strike.

Neal was in a bad position, and as the nanoseconds passed in an adrenaline-slowed crawl, he realized he wasn’t going to be able to recover his stance in time to dodge the blow. His flank was unprotected, and in another heartbeat he was going to lose a big chunk of flesh between his ribs and his hip. There wasn’t time to do anything to stop it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a sparkling object fly past. It slammed into the head of the sgath. Crystal prisms erupted into the room, casting pretty rainbows over the sgath’s matted fur.

It reared back in shock, shaking its head as if stunned.

That motion gave Neal enough time to recover and avoid the incoming blow. He took a half step to his right, tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, and shoved it into the sgath’s chin and up into its brain.

It wriggled there for a moment, lashing out blindly before it fel stil and silent.

The bedroom door burst open, bouncing off the wal so hard it nearly closed again. Only the hulking form of the injured sgath charging into the room kept it open.

Neal didn’t have time to release his sword, so he hauled the heavy body of the dead sgath along the blade, using it to bat at its own kind. His muscles strained under the added weight, but his blade held strong and solid.

The injured sgath flailed and hit the wal hard.

Neal shoved the dead sgath from his sword with his boot, and wasted no time in finishing off the last threat to Viviana.

He wiped the blood from his blade on the dead sgath’s fur, and turned to the woman.

She was standing in the corner, taking up as little space as possible. She had some kind of ceramic figurine in her gloved hands, clutching it like it might save her life. Her hazel eyes were wide with shock, and her slim body was shaking so hard he could see her silk blouse shimmering with the tiny tremors.

Neal moved to her as he scanned her skin and clothing for signs of blood splatter. He found none.

Keeping his voice calm, he said, “It’s over now, but we need to go.”

She didn’t seem to hear him, so he eased the little figurine from her fingers and took her hand.

He could feel her chil ed skin, even through the glove, but he’d get her warm soon enough. He just needed to get her out of the house and into his truck so they could avoid any more unexpected guests.

He tugged her forward and she took one stumbling step. Clearly she was stil in shock, not that he could blame her. A lot had happened tonight.

But if he didn’t get her out of here, a hel of a lot more was going to happen.

Rather than trying to talk her down, he wrapped his arm around her slim waist and lifted her over the sgath corpses. By the time he set her on her feet at the broken window, she was batting at his hand. “I can walk.”

If her legs were as shaky as her voice, she was going to tumble down the fire escape. “I’m sure you can. But it’s icy out there. We’re safer if we stick together.”

Neal scanned the al ey below and saw no signs of more Synestryn. It was going to have to be good enough.

They went down the steps. He kept a firm grip on her arm in case she froze up or slipped. The last few feet were a bit slow, but they made it down into the al ey.

He helped her over a mound of trash, and then he picked up the pace, heading for his truck.

Snow crunched under their feet as they went, and accumulated in their hair.

Viviana was shaking like crazy, and Neal didn’t know if it was more from shock or cold. He slipped his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders. She clutched it closed at her throat.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

He waited for the first safe break in the traffic and hurried them across the street, ignoring the horns and outraged shouts from the cars he forced to slow so they wouldn’t hit them.

The lights on his truck flashed as he unlocked the doors. He didn’t bother taking her around to the passenger’s side, but instead opened the driver’s side, lifted her onto the high bench seat, and got in behind her, crowding her so she had to scoot over to make room for him.

The engine started with a deep rumble. He cranked up the heat and leaned over so he could buckle her in. Then he shoved his way into the oncoming traffic, drawing yet more blasts from car horns.

Whatever. He wasn’t in the mood to be a courteous driver. He had more important things to worry about.

Like what the hel he was going to do with her now.

The St. Louis skyline was wel behind them when Viviana’s mind final y stopped sputtering and started running again.

She’d been attacked by monsters. Three monsters. Mr. Etan had kil ed them al to save her.

She turned her head the slightest bit, trying to look at him without appearing like she was. She’d never seen anyone move like that. He was mesmerizing. Brutal grace. Beautiful death.

He hadn’t said a word since they’d gotten in his truck. There was no radio to block the silence, only the humming of the pavement under his tires and her too-fast breathing.

Viviana didn’t know what to say. “Thank you” seemed a bit inadequate. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if she should thank him at al . For al she knew, he’d sent those things after her so he could save her and impress her enough to let him have the gadget he wanted.

“Shouldn’t we go back? Cal the police? Or animal control?”

“No.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“South.”

“South where?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. I just wanted to keep moving so the truck would warm up. You were shaking.”

She stil was, though she wasn’t nearly as cold now as she had been, thanks to his leather jacket and the delicious heat that was pouring out of the truck’s vents. She pul ed off her cotton gloves and held her hands close to the dash to warm them.

“Do you want something to eat?” he asked.

She looked at him to see if it was some kind of joke. He wasn’t smiling. “Are you serious? We nearly died and you want to eat?”

He lifted one thick shoulder in a shrug. “We’re stil alive. Gotta keep our strength up.”

“I’d rather talk about what happened back there.”

Guilt flattened his mouth. “That was my fault.”

“You brought those things with you?”

He spared her a quick, appal ed glance. “Hel , no. I’d never do that. But I think it’s my fault they found you.”

“Care to explain that?”

He shook his head. “It’s a long story, but the short version is too shocking to blurt out.”

“I’m tough, Mr. Etan. I think I can take it.”

“Neal,” he said. “Cal me Neal. And tough or not, I’m not sure you need another shock so soon after being attacked by sgath.”

“How about you let me judge whether or not I’m able to handle more. I assure you my constitution is not so delicate as you might think.”

He grunted his disagreement as he pul ed into a fast-food restaurant and parked. “If it’s like the rest of you, it is.”

Indignation was swiftly burning away al traces of the fear she’d felt earlier. “I think I should get out here and cal a cab. Thank you for saving me. You’l understand if I prefer never to see you again.” That last part was a bit of a lie. She’d enjoy seeing him as often as possible. He was the epitome of the term eye candy, but that didn’t mean she would indulge.

She unfastened her seat belt and reached for the door handle.

Neal moved so fast she didn’t even have time to yelp. He grabbed her hips and pul ed her back across the leather seat until she was practical y in his lap. She felt the hardness of his body behind her, the heat of his big hands sinking through her skirt.

When he spoke, she could feel his breath brush past the top of her ear. “If you leave me, you probably won’t live to see sunrise.”

Her insides began to quiver, and she wasn’t sure if it was his extreme prediction or the feel of his hands on her that caused the odd reaction. That resonant vibration was back, streaming through her, pooling in her bel y, and expanding to fil up al the empty spaces.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, her voice shaking as much as her body.

“I’m not. Those sgath found you once; they can do it again.”

“You said that was your fault. If I’m not with you, it won’t happen again.”

“Wrong.”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought she felt his mouth make the briefest, fluttering contact with her ear. She shivered, though she wasn’t sure if it was his touch that made it happen, or merely the thought of him touching her that did it.

Either way, she wasn’t going to sit here and be manhandled. “Let me go.”

Slowly, he released her hips, dragging his fingers over her wool skirt so slowly it was almost a caress. “Please don’t try to run,” he told her, the warning ringing clearly in his tone. “I can’t let that happen.”

Viviana scooted back across the seat as far as she could go. She faced him, determined to watch those too-fast hands of his. “Why not?”

“I nee—” He cut off whatever he’d been going to say and started again. “We stil have the matter of the gadget to settle. I can’t go home without it. My friend’s life is at stake.”

She gave him a steady stare. “So is yours if you grab me again like that.”

A smal smile played about his bold mouth, giving her the sudden urge to reach out and see if his lips were as soft as they looked or as hard as the rest of him. “Fair enough.”

She straightened her skirt and smoothed her hands over her hair to make sure her bun hadn’t come undone in al the excitement. “Let’s start with this friend of yours. How is it you think my artifact wil help?”

“It’s some kind of healing device. My friend is suffering from a progressive kind of paralysis.

Without this gadget, he’l die. I won’t let that happen.”

“Stop it with the thinly veiled threats, wil you? If I lived through those horrible creatures, I can certainly live through whatever you have to offer.”

“Don’t forget I was the one who kil ed them.”

Which reminded her . . . “Your sword. Where did it go?”

He patted his side. “It’s here. You just can’t see it.”

Viviana snorted. Her mother would have frowned in censure at the noise, which brought about a wave of grief and loneliness. She missed Mother so much—even her annoying parts.

Viviana closed her eyes and suffered through the unwanted emotions. Her heart had been through a workout tonight, and she couldn’t find the strength to keep everything in check like normal.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” asked Neal gently a moment before his hand settled on hers.

An effervescent tingling wove its way through her arm and into her chest. It expanded into a plume of warmth that drove away al thoughts of grief and sadness. For a single, shining moment, Viviana felt safe and happy. Like she belonged.

She’d spent her entire life standing outside, looking in. She’d never been like other children. As an orphan, she’d begun life as an outcast—an infant no one wanted. Her mother had adopted her before any of Viviana’s memories had begun to form, but it hadn’t seemed to save her from the knowledge that she was different.

Mother said she was special, but Viviana knew that was simply a euphemism for someone who didn’t fit in.

“I’m fine,” she managed to say.

“You don’t look fine. You look like you just found out someone kil ed your kitten.”

Viviana swal owed and col ected her wits. “Too much excitement for one night. That’s al .”

She started to pul her hand away, but Neal’s grip tightened slightly, holding her hand in his. “Not yet,” he said. “I’m not ready to start hurting again.”

She blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Let’s get back to the gadget, shal we? You were just about to tel me where it was so we could go get it and save my friend Torr.”

“Nice try, but not good enough. You were going to show me your sword.”

Viviana was sure she’d seen the intricate vines winding around the hilt. Even as fast as he’d moved, she knew what she saw. And if she was right, his sword was made by the same ancient people as her treasured col ection.

Neal lifted a brow. “You want to see my sword?”

“Yes.”

“If I show you, wil you tel me where the gadget is?”

“Maybe.”

His thick chest expanded with a heavy sigh. “Fine.”

Slowly, so slowly she could feel his touch over every nerve, he pul ed his hand away from hers.

The moment their skin broke contact, his whole body went tense. Sweat broke out over his forehead, and his breathing was fast and shal ow.

Worry for him hit her, worming its way so deep it was almost as if she’d known him for years.

“Are you okay?”

“Just give me a minute.”

She did. Seconds ticked by, and slowly his body relaxed.

“Damn, that gets worse every time,” he said, panting.

“What gets worse?”

He shook his head and pinned her with his glittering gaze. “That’s al part of that long story.

Suffice it to say that when I touch you it feels real y good. When I stop, not so much.”

She felt the same way. She opened her mouth to tel him to just keep touching her before she realized how it might sound. She didn’t even know the man. She certainly wasn’t going to offer to let him put his hands on her, no matter how lovely the idea was.

He moved and a sword appeared in his hand, as if conjured from thin air. “How did you do that?”

“The sword is invisible when it’s strapped to my body. Keeps the locals from freaking out.”

“But . . . how?”

“Magic.”

Magic. The word trickled into her, shifting puzzle pieces in her mind. What had been a confusing set of facts before now became a clearer picture. If magic was real—and she was looking at proof that it was—then that explained a lot of things. Al those stories she’d read. Al those artifacts that seemed to have a purpose, but no one could ever determine what it was. It was al beginning to make sense.

Neal laid the flat of the blade against his forearm, pointing the pommel toward her. She leaned over the piece, enthral ed by the power of it. It was beautiful, a thriving, pristine work of art. The detail was incredible. Intricate leaves etched with such precision she could see the veins wove around on a vine, forming the guard. Part of the detail in the hilt had been worn away with use, making her wonder just how old this piece was. “Where did you get it?”

“My father had it made for me when I was born.”

Part of her excitement deflated. He couldn’t be more than thirty-five, making the piece a beautiful replica, but nothing more. “Did the metalsmith pattern it off of an antique? Is that why it looks so worn?”

“It looks worn because it is worn.”

“It would take decades of hard use to manage that.”

“Yeah. It would.”

“What? You’re saying that you’ve done that? You can’t have even been using it for more than a decade or two.”

“I’m older than I look.”

The way he said it gave her pause. She wasn’t sure she should ask, but she real y needed to know. “How old?”

“You sure are a curious thing. I think I should stop answering your questions until you start answering mine.”

“The only thing you seem to want to know is where the artifact is.”

“Now you’re catching on.”

“If I tel you, what’s in it for me?”

“How much do you want?”

“I’m not interested in money. I want your sword.”

He let out a hard laugh. “Not on your life. This sword in the wrong hands could be dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous in the right hands, too.”

He gave her a slow wink. “Glad you noticed.”

Another shiver coursed along her limbs, and this time it had nothing to do with his touch. Al he had to do was give her a wink and she melted.

He sheathed his sword and it faded out of sight. She was dying to get her hands on the sheath to see how he managed it, but she didn’t think he’d appreciate her making greedy, grabby hands, especial y near his manlier parts.

Not that she was thinking about his manlier parts. She simply knew they were there. She was not going to look, no matter how much she’d piqued her own curiosity with the thought.

Her eyes slid down his torso, admiring the way the mock turtleneck hugged his muscular contours. She’d almost embarrassed herself by staring at his crotch when his voice jerked her attention back to his face, where it belonged.

“See something you like?” he asked.

She cleared her throat, ignoring his question. “So, if I can’t have your sword, do you have any other items I might be interested in?”

“I don’t know. What kind of things do you col ect?”

“Items from a long-dead group of people cal ed the Sentinels.”

Neal went stil , his eyes glittering in the dark confines of the truck. “Where did you hear about the Sentinels?”

“Books. You should give them a try sometime.”

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but those books of yours had at least one thing wrong. They’re not long-dead, sweetheart.”

Viviana’s body went numb at those words. “What do you know of them?”

“More than you, I’m sure. I happen to be one.”

“Liar,” she spat out before she could stop herself. It was easy to say he was one of them, but for al she knew, he’d researched her obsession with the Sentinels in order to win her over so he could get what he wanted from her.

There was one way to test him. “Which race are you?”

His brows lifted in a show of admiration. “You real y have done your homework.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Theronai,” he said, waving the ring on his finger in front of her face. “Though I would have thought the luceria would have given it away.”

Luceria. She rol ed the word around in her head, letting the sound of it soak into her memory. “I don’t remember any mention of a luceria.”

“Guess you don’t know everything, then, huh?”

“I know there’s one sure way to prove what you say is correct.”

“What? You mean that slaying those sgath wasn’t proof enough? What about the way you feel when we touch? I bet no human man has ever made you feel like that before.”

“I don’t feel a thing,” she lied. She couldn’t remember reading anything about feeling odd at the touch of a Theronai, but that could have been the fault of her translation, too.

“No?” he chal enged. “So you wouldn’t mind if I touched you again, then?”

Yes, please. She’d like that very much. Not that she’d ever tel him so. This man needed no more weapons against her now that they shared a common interest. Sure, he said he was a Sentinel, but that had to be a fabrication. They were al dead.

Weren’t they?

“Show me your lifemark,” she demanded.

A slow, hot smile spread out over Neal’s face. “If you wanted to get my shirt off, sweetheart, al you had to do was ask.”

With that, he pul ed the long-sleeved shirt off over his head, baring his chest.

Viviana stared and forgot to breathe.

Not only was he a living sculpture of masculine perfection; he was also tel ing her the truth. He was a Theronai. The giant tree spanning his chest, stretching from his left shoulder to wel below his belt, was proof of that.

The detail was astounding. Even in the dim confines of the truck, she could stil make out each individual leaf and twig. The bark was so lifelike, she itched to feel the texture of it under her fingers. As she watched, the tree seemed to sway with some invisible wind.

It had to be an optical il usion caused by the steady expansion of his ribs as he breathed.

Viviana reached out a hand. The compulsion to touch such an amazing work of art was uncontrol able.

Her fingers came to rest lightly on the image, and only then, when she felt the warmth of his skin, did she remember that this was no mere image on a canvas. She was touching a living, breathing man.

Beneath her fingers, she felt the branches shift, swaying toward her touch. An electric current flowed out of him, tingling her fingertips.

Neal sucked in a breath and held it. “I was right. You are one of ours.”

“One of your what?”

“People. You’re a Theronai. Like me.”

Shock jolted Viviana’s gaze up to his. He wasn’t teasing. His dark blue eyes were steady on hers and there wasn’t even the faintest hint of a smile anywhere to be found.

She started to pul her hand away, but he flattened his palm over her hand, holding it in place.

His warm skin was stretched tight over hard muscles. She could feel the subtle vibration of his pulse pounding in his chest.

Her breathing was too fast when she final y found the ability to speak. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re not the first woman we’ve found who didn’t know she was one of us. There are others like you—women fathered by men from another world. I know this al must be real y confusing to you, but believe me when I tel you that you, Viviana Rowan, may be the only person on the face of this planet who can save my life.”