Read on for a sneak
peek at the next novel in the Lost Angels series,
MESSENGER’S
ANGEL
Available from Signet
Eclipse in June 2012.
It was early Sunday morning and not a high-travel
time; her car was empty but for her. She felt like Harry Potter
when the trolley came by with teas and soups and biscuits for sale.
There were no Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, but with a little
effort it was easy to imagine that when she turned around and
looked out the window, she would see the towering spires of
Hogwarts rising over the hills in the distance. It was enough to
take her mind off the attack she’d suffered and her burgeoning
powers and what the hell they could possibly mean. At least for a
little while.
But the sense of
bereavement and haunted remembrance she experienced while traveling
across Scotland was stronger on the train than it had been in the
car. Perhaps it was because she had nothing to do but stare out the
window at the passing countryside and its crumbling castle walls.
Whatever the reason, though, Juliette remained nearly motionless as
the world passed her by, and memories she knew she couldn’t have
assaulted her mind.
A flash of an ancient
church, and a chill ran down her spine. A shadow fell across a
painted red door, and Juliette felt sad. A path beckoned into the
darkness through a tall wood, and she had the sudden urge to jump
off the train and run down the trail. It was almost frustrating,
the way the land made her want to remember.
“I see you feel a
kinship with our bonnie Caledonia,” came a deep brogue from behind
her.
Juliette jumped just
a little, and turned in her seat to find herself staring up at the
man who had kissed her in the pub. The man who had saved her from
the stranger. The man who had, until only a few hours ago, been in
police custody.
Gabriel Black. True
to his name, he was dressed in head-to-toe pitch, his wavy, raven
locks blending in with the leather collar of his jacket. His silver
eyes sparkled with secrets as they locked onto hers.
Juliette’s jaw grew
slack, and her tongue found itself knotted, useless, and mute. She
caught a whiff of him, a scent like sandalwood and cedar and
hearth-fire smoke, and images of her dream flashed before her
mind’s eye. Her fingers went limp on the tabletop, her legs pressed
themselves together self-consciously, and her bottom lip began to
tremble.
“B-Black,” she
whispered.
Gabriel smiled, and
then, without being asked, he lowered himself into the empty space
on the seat beside her.
His solid nearness
washed over her like a blanket of intoxicating sexuality, and
Juliette hurriedly scooted back a bit on the seat. She could go no
farther when her left arm pressed against the cold metal beneath
the coach window.
Gabriel watched her
retreat, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “We need to talk,
lass,” he said. His accent had so much more of a brogue than that
of most of the people on the Western Isles. By and large,
Hebrideans sounded Irish and Gaelic. Black, however, sounded as if
he’d come from all over Scotland; it was the timbre and lilt of his
tone that bespoke of the land.
“A-About what?”
Juliette asked. The kiss? The man in my room?
The fact that you were arrested?
Gabriel’s smile
broadened, his silver gaze flicking to her lips and back again.
Casually, he turned toward her, caging her with the hard mass of
his body as he reached across the table and picked up her cup of
tea. It was still steaming. Without taking his eyes off her, he
placed it to his lips and took a sip. “You’ve go’ good taste,” he
said as he put the cup back down. “Bu’ then, you’re a Scottish lass
by blood, so I’m no’ surprised.”
“Look,” she said,
feeling a little dizzy. “I’m grateful to you for saving me from
whoever it was that came into my room last night, but . . .” She
lost track of what she was going to say when he reached over and
nonchalantly took a lock of her long, thick hair and began rubbing
it between his thumb and forefinger. “But . . .” She licked her
lips, utterly distracted by the scent and sound and feel of him so
close. The air around her felt too thick, too charged.
Somewhere in the
distance thunder rolled, barely audible over the rhythmic sound of
the train on the tracks. But Black’s eyes cut from the hair in his
hand to Juliette’s eyes once more, and he cocked his head to one
side. He said nothing, as if waiting for her to
continue.
“But I don’t know you
and you’re . . .” She trailed off again.
“I’m wha’, Juliette?”
he asked softly.
He knows my name, she thought. For some reason, she
wasn’t surprised. He seemed unreal, sitting there only inches from
her, more solid than a sable-draped statue of bronze. He seemed
impossible, like a superhero. Like a dream. You’re scaring me.
Thunder boomed closer
to the train, the storm obviously having moved in, as it was easier
to hear over the metal slide of the rails. Something strange
flashed in the light gray depths of Gabriel’s eyes. He gently
released her hair and leaned in a bit, closing the space between
them. “You’ll want to control that, luv.” He smiled a decidedly
dark smile. “Let it rage an’ it’ll drain your strength.” He leaned
in even farther so that Juliette’s head bumped the wall behind her.
“An’ then how will you fight me off, lass?”
Juliette could barely
breathe now. Her mind fought to process what he had just said, even
as her body fought with itself over the effect he was having on
her. Enough of his words got through that her blood pressure shot
through the roof, and adrenaline poured into her bloodstream.
“Control what?” she asked, her voice barely more than a
whisper.
“The storm,
Juliette,” he replied. “It’s one of your powers as an archess, is
it no’? An’ from the way it’s growin’ stronger by the moment, I’d
wager it’s a fairly new one to you.”
Terror thrummed its
way through Juliette’s body, instantly chilling most of the heat
Black’s nearness had awakened. Her stomach turned to lead in her
middle, and her heart hammered against the inside of her rib cage.
“What are you talking about?”
Gabriel’s smile never
wavered. The pupils of his eyes were expanding, like those of a
predator singling out its prey. “You know verra well, luv. An’ I
do, too. I know because I’ve been searchin’ for you for so long,
I’ve lost track o’ the time.”
The world blurred
around them and melted into slow motion as Gabriel slowly raised
his hand and cupped her cheek. At the contact, Juliette felt
trapped and possessed and wanted and cherished and more beautiful
than she had ever felt in her life. Even through the fear, her body
was responding to his as if it wanted him more than it wanted life
itself. His hand held hers as if she were a delicate treasure; she
felt a tremble in his fingers, despite the apparent calm of his
tone, and it echoed the chaotic beat of her heart—and the growing
storm outside the train windows.
She wanted to close
her eyes as he leaned a little closer; he was so close now, his
next words whispered across her lips, a breath of mint and Parma
Violets.... She loved Parma Violets. “You were made for me,
Juliette,” he said. His thumb brushed possessively, enticingly
across her full lower lip. His gaze flicked to her mouth and back
again; the silver in his eyes had become mercury, liquid lightning
that reflected the gale building beyond the window. “How else would
I know wha’ I know aboot you?”
Juliette kept her
gaze locked on his as she shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re
talking about,” she insisted stubbornly. He couldn’t know. This was
insane. She barely knew about her powers herself. “Please back
off,” she added, almost desperate now for him to either kiss her or
disappear. One or the other—or she would pass out.
“Och. No, I canno’ do
that, luv,” he told her with a single shake of his head. His thumb
brushed across her lower lip again, and she shivered. “There are
men after you, if you’ll recall. The one who attacked you last
night was no’ the first of his kind to come after an archess. An’
he won’ be the last. You’re no’ safe alone, an’ there’s no’
anythin’ I won’ do to keep you safe.”
Juliette’s gaze
narrowed. “How do I know you didn’t set up that entire scene last
night?” she asked him. “Scumbags sometimes work in teams; one to
play the bad guy—the other to ‘save’ the victim.” She gritted her
teeth, trying to believe her own words enough to deliver them with
some conviction. “I’m not stupid.”
“No, lass, that
you’re no’.” He shook his head, clearly agreeing with her. His eyes
still twinkled with some secret merriment, and it made him so
handsome, she had never felt so close to losing control. She’d
never thought herself the kind of woman who could lose her
composure around a man simply because he was beautiful. Gorgeous.
Godlike. But she may have been wrong. Because at that moment she
wanted to kiss him—and do other things with him—so badly, her body
was aching in the most embarrassing places.
As if her own need
were a signal of surrender for the predator in him, Black’s pupils
ate up the silver in his eyes, and the sight of it made Juliette
weak from the neck down. Before she could react, he was moving in
for the kill, his lips slanting over hers even as his hands framed
her face, claiming her for his.
God, yes . . . She was lost now; there was no
coming back from this. Nothing else in life would ever feel so
good. Juliette was instantly on fire; her heart was hammering, her
body melting, her core throbbing as wetness wantonly gathered
between her legs and her breath left her lungs. Her hands came up
of their own accord and clutched at the thick black leather of his
jacket, her fingers curling into the material as if holding on for
dear life.
He was an expert
kisser; he did everything right. He knew how to surround her, how
to open her up and delve deep. He possessed her with that kiss,
taking and tasting and destroying her defenses as if they were
tissue paper. And then, suddenly, he went still above her. His body
tensed, his hands slid to her hair and tightened their grip, and
very, very slowly, he pulled away.
The moment his lips
left hers, Juliette experienced such cold and emptiness, she
actually shivered. It was like tasting despair, this abrupt
separation. It hurt. But she retained
enough control over herself to release his jacket and open her
eyes.
When she did, she
almost gasped at the change she saw in Black’s expression. The lust
and need were still there in that handsome face, but there was
anger there now as well, stark and dangerous. His own gaze had
narrowed, and lightning reflected in the molten silver of his eyes.
His stubbled chin was set with hard determination. “Do no’ move
from here, lass. Stay in this seat until I return,” he told her
firmly.
Juliette was too
stunned to react in any way. He must have taken it for
acquiescence, because with that, he pulled back and in one fluid,
graceful movement, he stood in the aisle on the opposite end of the
table. Juliette sat up a little straighter in the seat as reality
slowly flooded her world like a cold shower. She watched his tall,
dark form take a step back and, in that brief moment of space and
clarity, she entertained a hundred different thoughts. He’s crazy. This is nuts. He’s dangerous. He knows. I have
to get out of here. Wait until he’s gone—
As if he knew what
was going through her head, Gabriel came forward to brace his hands
on the surface of the table and lean in toward her once more. “Know
this, lass: there is nowhere you can go where I will no’ find you.
Leave here an’ I promise you’ll no’ get far.” His eyes speared her
like silver daggers.
She swallowed hard.
He waited a moment more, trapping her in his metal gaze, and then
he straightened and turned to stride down the aisle of the
otherwise deserted coach. The automatic door opened before him. He
stopped, turned to look at her over his broad shoulder, and
captured her gaze with his. There was a world of meaning in the
look he gave her. It was a brand of a look, hot and
searing.
Then he turned back
around and stepped through the plastic sliding doors and out of her
line of sight. Juliette sat there in the seat, just as he had told
her to, for several long moments. She couldn’t help it. It wasn’t
that she was obeying his order; she simply couldn’t
move.
The first time he had
kissed her had been heaven. He’d torn down her walls and breached
her world with seemingly no effort at all. The second time he’d
kissed her, he’d marched right into her castle and claimed it as
king. She was ruined now. No man in the world would ever kiss her
like that again.
Slowly, Juliette
raised her fingers to her lips. She touched the swollen, sensitive
flesh and closed her eyes. No matter how perfect the man was, he
claimed to know about her ability to control the storm—which was
throwing as big a fit as ever outside the windows now. He had
called her something strange—an archess. And now that she’d said it
out loud, the possibility that he had collaborated with the blond
in her room to set up that kidnapping attempt just so that he could
rescue her seemed much more likely.
She didn’t trust
Gabriel Black. She didn’t trust anything about him—not his tall,
hard body or his piercing silver eyes or his incredibly handsome
face or his accent, which melted the bones in her body. She didn’t
trust the graceful way he moved or the sexy way he smelled or the
subjugating perfection of his damnable kiss.
She definitely didn’t trust the kiss.
Juliette’s fingers
trembled on her lower lip. “I have to get out of here,” she
whispered to no one.
As if the train had
heard her and decided to become her partner in this venture, it
slowed as the next station drew closer. Juliette lowered her hand
and scooted to the end of the seat to peer down the length of the
aisle. The doors on both ends were shut tight, and though she
detected movement beyond them, it was blurred and indistinct;
passengers disembarking in the neighboring coaches.
Without giving it
further thought, Juliette jumped off the seat, grabbed her carry-on
bag from its place above her, and raced to the door on the opposite
side from the direction Black had gone. It opened as she reached
it, and she shot through it and off the train onto the
landing.
Disoriented, it took
her a moment to figure out where she was. There weren’t many big
cities or even towns in Scotland, and this certainly wasn’t one of
them. A sign inside the station house marked it as the Muir of Ord
Railway Station. So she must be in Muir of Ord. Wherever that
was.
At least she knew it
was somewhere between Ulla-pool and Inverness. She was in the
Highlands. This was where her mother’s side of the family, the
MacDonalds, was from.
Now what? Her mind did summersaults inside her
skull. She needed transportation, she needed a map, and she needed
to get away from the train and its windows as soon as possible. Her
feet moved of their own accord, eating up the ground at a desperate
pace as she made her way off the landing, down the ramp that took
her from the station, and around the brick building. She would ask
the station manager or director or whatever he was called for help.
But first she would hide.
The women’s bathroom
was as good a place as any. She would wait there until the train
took off again. It was a shitty plan, but it was better than no
plan at all.
Gabriel’s blood was
on fire in his veins; he’d never felt like this before. Juliette
was ripping him apart inside. He’d felt her give in to him. He’d
won her surrender with his kiss and he knew that if he’d wanted to,
he could have taken her right there on the seat on the train. Not
that he would have. Well, maybe.
But then he’d felt
something else. It was a vibration in the air, a thickness to the
atmosphere, charged and negative and wrong. And he would recognize
it anywhere. The Adarian was on the train. Not only was he on the
train, but he had been in that coach with Juliette, invisible and
lying in wait like an unseen serpent. He might have even been
sitting across from her—watching her all along.
Gabriel wasn’t sure
why he hadn’t sensed it at first. It might have been that he was so
focused on Juliette, nothing else registered. It might have been
that the Adarian was so good at hiding, Gabe hadn’t felt the change
in the air until the man moved right by him.
That he had felt. It was a shift in the air, like
sandpaper molecules of oxygen and carbon dioxide scraping along his
flesh and soul as the Adarian moved past him and down the
aisle.
He had no idea what
the man was waiting for. He could only guess that the Adarian
hadn’t attacked Juliette outright because there would be no easy
way to get an unconscious body off the train without being seen.
And then Gabriel had shown up and most likely thrown a wrench into
the Adarian’s plans. He’d left the coach while Gabe and Juliette
were kissing. And now he was somewhere—somewhere on this train. And
Juliette was alone in her car and Gabriel wasn’t an idiot. He knew
she would try to escape. He knew that once he gave her enough space
to think, she would come to her senses and a good, hard, healthy
fear would set in. She had no reason to believe that his intentions
were pure. She was right about the way some men set women up with
the good-guy, bad-guy routine. Michael had come across many a rape
scenario in his line of duty as a cop in New York, and he’d shared
enough of those stories over the years.
Men could be
monsters. And Juliette had a good head on her shoulders. She would
run. He’d seen the thoughts in her eyes as he’d left her. He could
threaten and try to scare her all he wanted, but it wouldn’t work.
In the end, she would flee.
At least there was
nowhere she could go on a moving train. She was too smart to try to
jump off, and the doors wouldn’t open in that fashion while the
train was moving anyway. For the moment, she was stuck, giving him
the time he needed to track down the Adarian.
What was confusing
Gabe, however, was the apparent absence of any of the other
Adarians. Where was the General? Why hadn’t Abraxos made his
infernal appearance yet? What the bloody hell was going
on?
Gabriel strode
through the aisles of the train, honing his senses for that
familiar spark of negativity that would tell him the Adarian was
near. He cursed his luck that just as he was finding the woman he
had searched two thousand years for, his enemy had found her, as
well. At least he didn’t have to deal with Samael the way Uriel had
when he’d found his archess months ago. Small
blessings.
Nonetheless, the
Adarian’s intrusion was like watching the Roman army lay siege to
Gabriel’s homeland. She was his—and only his. It was time to deal with the intruder
once and for all.
Gabriel ignored the
stares he got as he passed through the compartments. He was too
focused to pay them any heed. But the farther down the train’s
length he got, the more agitated he became. The air was clean of
the feel of the Adarian. There was no static, no thickness, no
wrongness—not like there had been in Juliette’s cabin. Where had
the intruder gone?
And then something
niggled at the back of Gabriel’s brain—and the train began to slow.
No.
Gabriel stopped in
the aisle and turned to face the direction from which he’d come.
The LCD screen at the end of the car read “Muir of Ord,” and a few
people were grabbing for their luggage. Gabriel broke into a near
run, brushing rudely by the people who had claimed space in the
aisle. The doors opened for him as he neared them and he shot on
through.
But by the time he
reached Juliette’s car, the train had been stopped completely for
several seconds and his fears were confirmed.
She was
gone.